II
The Jungle
Rain patters on her face from the high above jungle canopy. The spread leaves of the ibunya trees impart a green tint to the sunlight that filters down to the jungle floor. Fat sparrowflies shelter beneath overhanging leaves, their wings flexing impatiently as rainwater spills past them. Bird calls seem muted by the hot, humid air. Her body is sore, particularly her arms, as if she slept with them pinned beneath her body.
She sits up slowly, the weight of her bare breasts shifting and rain continuing to fall on her outstretched legs. She is wearing a red loincloth and armbands and this is the way of her tribe. She knows this instinctively. She is an elf of the Red Feather tribe. The pigment dried on her face and the feathers tied to her armbands mark her as such.
“Level one,” she murmurs, knowing this without seeing it. “Bronwen. Level one.”
So weak.
She wonders if that is right. Wasn’t she stronger once?
She feels something stirring deep within her mind, but cannot summon it. She can check the sheet. Somehow, she knows this. With a moment’s consideration, a glowing sheet appears before her eyes.
Bronwen-of-the-Red-Feather
Race: Wild Elf
Alignment: Good
Class: Warrior
Status: Normal
Level: 1
Experience Points: 0/1000
Strength:
16
Hit Points: 26/26
Agility:
11
Armor Points: 3/3
Stamina:
12
Intelligence:
10
Willpower:
10
Charisma:
10
Special Abilities
Wild Elf Fury (Ignore Pain or Fear Effects for 60 seconds)
Equipment
Wild Elf Basic Armor (3)
Sexual Content - YES
Extreme Content - YES
Fertility - YES
Sexual Content? Extreme Content?
She looks at the grayed-out options at the bottom of her sheet. She has some vague memory of being able to change these settings, but now they seem immutable. And fertility… that is new. She has never seen that option before unless her addled brain is truly failing her.
The rest of the sheet definitely stirs memories. She is a warrior of the Red Feather tribe of wild elves. Her people live in the vast jungle of Kojun. A well-worn sword with a broken tip rests on the ground beside her. She wonders if that is her sword and picks it up. She feels the power of it in her hand, but she knows that she cannot wield it properly or equip it to identify its magic. Her level is too low.
A woman screams in the distance; a wordless cry of pain or fear. The bestial roar that follows is much closer to Bronwen. Something is smashing through the dense jungle growth towards her small clearing. She tightens her grip on the broken sword. She might not be able to wield it properly, but she can still swing it like any fool with an improvised weapon. She squares off against whatever is coming through the trees. He heart pounds wildly as she glimpses a massive, shadowy shape coming towards her.
The creature thunders into the clearing, its piggish nostrils flaring and its beady eyes red and hateful. It is a head taller than Bronwen and twice her width, its shoulders and arms bulging with muscles and its belly speaking of its plentiful diet. Its lower body is covered with a shaggy loincloth pelt. It brandishes a stone-topped cudgel and smiles cruelly, baring yellowed tusks and pointed teeth.
“Found another one,” grunts the brute.
Bronwen knows the creature is an orc, which makes him a mortal enemy of her people. She considers him and red text floats above his head.
Bone Carver – Level 3 Orc Slaver
“Elf bitch,” he snarls and beats his fist against his chest. The grim trophies decorating his muscled torso and dangling from his belt clatter with each pound of his fist; scalps and bones and more than one skull that looks to be human or elf. “I take you for slave. Sell you. Or maybe keep you for breeding. Or EATING!”
He roars and swings his cudgel at her. Bronwen feels sluggish as she jumps aside, barely quicker than the hulking orc. His blow comes close enough for her to feel the wind of it passing over her head as she rolls and rises to a crouch.
“Lucky! Not be so lucky again!” The orc’s lips curl back in a vicious smile and he lashes out with one of his huge, green hands. Bronwen almost escapes him, twisting her arm out of his reach, but her silky blonde hair slides over the massive orc’s fingers and he grabs a handful.
“Got you now!” Pain jolts through her scalp and her head jerks back. Bone Carver rumbles with laughter, yanking Bronwen off her feet and slamming her onto her back on the ground. The fall knocks the sword loose of her grasp and drives the wind from her lungs. She cries out, gasping for air, and tries to roll back to her feet. His iron-shod boot slams into her ribs.
5 HP DAMAGE
The glowing red text flashes in her dazed vision.
“Oh no!” He laughs. “There is no escape. I put the collar on you, elf bitch. You be the good girl and get me many golds at Nokings.”
Bronwen has some distant memory of the monster moot at Nokings. Was she there before? She knows it as a place where the evil races and sentient creatures gather to trade slaves, illicit magic, and forge alliances. For a Wild Elf, it would be the most awful place imaginable.
“I won’t! I won’t go with you!” She kicks and screams. She bites his forearm, her teeth unable to pierce his tough orc hide. Bone Carver shakes her by her head, stunning her and slamming her to the ground again.
3 HP DAMAGE
She looks up at him in a daze as he leans over her and growls, “Careful, little wild bitch. I might cook you up and eat you if you not worth the trouble.”
His big hand is suddenly upon her breast, squeezing it roughly and rolling her fat nipple in his fingers.
“You are a ripe one,” he growls. “Maybe I just mate you now. Breed you and make you even fatter. A few pups to broaden those hips.”
His hands caress her hips. She moans, still trying to catch her breath as the orc suddenly grips her loincloth and pulls. It cinches uncomfortably into the crack of her round ass and bites against the furrow of her cunt. A grunt from the orc and another yank and it tears free of her hairless mound.
“Bastard!” She cries.
“’Course I am,” laughs, Bone Carver as he palms her right breast with one hand and rubs at her delicate slit with his other. “All orcs born bastards. No lifemates like human and elf. But slaves. Like you. Good for breeding.”
She seethes and squirms beneath him, but his strength is overpowering and his hands seem to know how to arouse her in ways she never imagined. Pleasure burns in the silky cusp of her cunt. Her breasts heave as he leans over her and lewdly runs his fat, pink tongue over her heaving mounds.
“No! Stop it!” Bronwen cries, beating her hands against his muscular shoulders and his bald, battle-scarred head. Bone Carver laughs, ignoring her feeble blows as he lewdly sucks one of her tits, drawing half her tender mound into his mouth and lapping at her sensitive nipple. She wails even louder, arching with pleasure against his fingers and sucking mouth. “Nooooo!”
Even as she hates him more than ever, her body burns with desire and her hips brgin to move. Bronwen fucks helplessly against Bone Carver’s rough fingers. Her clit pulses powerfully each time his touch brushes against it.
“You ready,” he grunts. “Ready for orc cock.”
“No,” she moans, but she is no longer resisting him.
Bone Carver shifts atop her, pinning her wrists above her head with one big hand and using his other hand to free his cock from the fur-fringed pelt wrapped around his waist. Bronwen catches a glimpse of his huge, green cock with its dark tip more than filling his hand and her eyes go wide. She arches and squirms beneath him, but there is no hope of escape. And part of her aches to be filled by his massive orc maleness.
�
�Tight elf pussy,” he grunts, pushing his tip against her tender folds. “Gonna haveta push!”
He thrusts violently into Bronwen’s slick cunt and she wails in pain at the sudden intrusion. His massive member presses to the depths of her pussy and seems to spread her open like a spear driven through her body. Yet, when he draws his cock back, she feels the emptiness of her aching cunt and craves for him to fill her again.
Something he does gladly, growling in a way that rumbles in her body and vibrates up his cock as he slams it back into her tight elfin cunt. Bronwen has never experienced such pleasure as the orc’s muscular body moves atop her. His chest flexes and the bone charms dangling from his corded neck drag against her heaving breasts. Her pale pink nipples are erect and sensitive and each time one of them is touched it momentarily distracts her from the ecstasy building in the depths of her cunt.
“I feel it,” rumbles Bone Carver. “Cum for me, elf. I fill you with my seed.”
His words stoke her pleasure and she trembles beneath him as he thrusts in and out of her clutching cunt. Though tossed by the tempest of her climax, a small part of her mind remains sane and focuses on Bone Carver’s threat to fill her with his seed. She recalled her sheet of statistics and the words that meant she was fertile. If the orc were to seed her as he promised, would she become his slave forever?
Her orgasm overwhelms the question and she bucks beneath him, thrusting her hips and impaling her clutching pussy onto his cock. Wave after wave of intense pleasure wracks her shapely elf body, her soft lips formed into a wordless wail and her plump tits swaying with each powerful thrust of Bone Carver’s cock.
“Yes, little elf!” The orc bellows triumphantly. “Feel your cunt! You cum for mighty orc! You offer your womb!”
“Ahhhhh!” A ribbon of cold fear unfurls through the heat of Bronwen’s climax. “Wait!”
“No waiting!” Bone Carver roars.
She knows she must do something quickly, even if it means something unpleasant. She has to stop the orc from impregnating her.
“Bone Carver,” she gasps, fighting to maintain her senses in the throes of her pleasure. “If you s-seed me I-I can’t be sold as a slave. No one wants a pregnant slave! Let me f-finish you with my m-mouth.”
Bone Carver roars with annoyance, his hot, fetid breath washing over Bronwen’s face. He draws his swollen cock from her stretched cunt with a lewd slurp and it bounces against her mound and lower abdomen. He releases her hand, but grabs her hair, roughly yanking her head back.
“Suck it,” he snarls. “Any teeth and you get broke in half, elf.”
His cock twitches before her as he rises to his feet, pulling her by her hair to kneel before him. She folds her legs beneath her and takes hold of his cock, more to protect herself than anything. The reality of his glistening meat in her face is overwhelming. The smell of her cum and his unwashed stones wafts over her.
The massive orc holds her head with one hand and grips his cock at its root with the other hand. He pulls Bronwen closer, tilting her face up and slapping his wet shaft against his lips and chin. She opens her mouth and submits to this humiliation. He snarls with satisfaction, rubbing against her tongue before pushing his fat glans between her soft lips. Her eyes water as she begins to suck and lick his salty tip, his precum trickling down her throat with each swallow.
“Yes, you be trained good,” he says, releasing his grip on his cock and letting Bronwen take over. “Sell you for good gold as pleasure slave.”
“Mmmmmmm,” she replies, trying not to cry as she begins to bob her head and slurp submissively upon the orc’s huge cock. Her efforts are repaid with the orc’s indolence. He leans his shoulders back and watches her working his massive cock. She looks up at him, trying to seem adoring as she takes him as deep as she can into her mouth and massages what she cannot fit past her lips using both hands.
“Good, good,” groans the orc, his chest rising and falling faster. “Elf always make good pleasure slave. Ahhhhhh! Yes, suck it!”
Bone Carver grips her head with both his powerful hands, but he does not force her down. She sucks him urgently, convinced that pleasuring him is the only way to save herself from the slavery of being bred. His cock seems to swell against the back of her throat. Bone Carver roars so loudly it startles birds from the surrounding trees.
“Seed comes!” He roars as if in pain and his massive maleness throbs between Bronwen’s lips. Hot, thick seed bursts against her throat and she swallows instinctively. The orc’s salty seed pumps into her mouth in overwhelming streams. She fights back the urge to be sick and gulps down as much of this foul liquid as she can. What she cannot swallow overflows her mouth and spills in milky streams down her chin. She slows her bobbing head and feels a warm glob fall from her chin to splatter her breasts.
“Enough,” grunts Bone Carver, stepping back and pulling his huge cock from Bronwen’s mouth with a wet pop.
Bronwen looks up at the orc, her eyes watering, her chin and breasts smeared with cum, and she hears a soft dinging sound.
ORAL SEX +500 XP
The gods have blessed her with experience for pleasuring the orc! She feels a strange welling of strength inside her and she knows without checking her sheet that this has filled her experience bar halfway from the first to the second level. Thankfully, the orc cannot see the experience the act has bestowed. If she could somehow reach the next level it would heal the damage Bone Carver had already inflicted. Maybe she could also correctly wield her sword at Level 2.
“Mmmmm, good,” says Bone Carver. He reaches for his waist and begins fumbling with a belt. His thick fingers struggle to untie a cord holding a charmed slave collar to the belt.
Bronwen realizes there is no time for pleasuring him again. Once that collar is around her neck she will become totally submissive for as long as she wears the collar. Such has been the fate of many wild elves taken by the orcs over the years. Her own mother was once taken by an orc slaver, but saved from captivity by a raid on the orc encampment by the tribe of the Red Feather.
If she ran, she would not make it. She searches the grass around her and sees the sword nearby. She crawls on her hands and knees towards it, her bare bottom facing the orc.
“I fuck you when you collared,” grunts Bone Carver. “I know orc cock put you in heat.”
She takes hold of the sword, hoping it is blocked from Bone Carver’s view by her body. He thumps towards her, the collar clinking in his hand as he leans over her and reaches out to put the collar on her slender neck. She felt the cold steel charged with magic and she turns suddenly and drives the broken tip of the sword straight upwards.
“HNNGGGGK!” Bone Carver flops back, grabbing at the sword that is now protruding from his throat. His beady eyes are so wide she can see the white around the red. He stumbles back and pulls the blade from his throat, a welter of blood spurting out and barely missing her legs. He looks at her with rage, the sword still in his hand as blood sheets crimson down his muscular chest.
Bronwen tries to scramble away, but Bone Carver pulls her closer with a hand around her ankle. She kicks his hand and tries to twist out of his grasp. He drives the sword into her side. She feels it like a punch from a fist, but she can tell the blade went deep into her body.
12 HP DAMAGE
It’s nearly enough to kill her. If he attacks again…
But Bone Carver does not. His fingers slip from the grip of the sword and he plunges over like a falling tree. Blood continues to gurgle from his throat.
ORC DEFEATED +400 XP
She killed him and the gods have rewarded her with more experience, but it is not enough. She is still 100 XP short of gaining a level. Her sword is still buried in her side. She pulls it out with a soft grunt of pain. Blood pours out into the grass around her.
1 HP DAMAGE
She cries out in confusion. What causes this damage? From pulling the sword out? She focuses on her sheet and it springs into existence before her eyes.
Bronwen-of-th
e-Red-Feather
Race: Wild Elf
Alignment: Good
Class: Warrior
Status: Bleeding
Level: 1
Experience Points: 900/1000
Strength:
16
Hit Points: 5/26
Agility:
11
Armor Points: 0/3
Stamina:
12
Intelligence:
10
Willpower:
10
Charisma:
10
Special Abilities
Wild Elf Fury (Ignore Pain or Fear Effects for 60 seconds)
Equipment
Damaged Wild Elf Basic Armor (0)
Damaged ??? Sword (Inadequate Level)
Sexual Content – YES
Extreme Content - YES
Fertility – YES
Bleeding? Bronwen gasps with defeat. She has no hope of stopping the bleeding. Unless… maybe Bone Carver was carrying something. She crawls through the grass to his body, pain wracking her side with every movement.
1 HP DAMAGE
Her blood continues to spill out as she desperately searches the orc’s belt and charms for anything useful. She finds some dried salted meat in a basket and a few gold coins in a pouch. She takes these and sets them aside, but they are of no help stopping her bleeding.
Blood Debt of the Wild Elf Page 3