Orcs Edition

 

Overlord



“So that is my plan, my fellow chiefs. United, our clans can easily sweep across this world and we orcs can take our rightful place as rulers of all, above the other weaker inferior species…”

The other orc chieftains sat around the table eyed him uncertainly, exchanging occasional distrustful glances with each other over the mugs of ale. This had not been what any of them had been expecting when they had agreed to attend this gathering.

It was a gathering had very nearly not happened at all. There was too much distrust between the various clans, too many old feuds, too much bad blood, to make such a thing easy to arrange.

But Alazark, the young and incredibly ambitious chief of the Blood-Render clan had spent many months tirelessly pushing for this meeting, claiming that he had something momentous that affected all orc-kind and it needed to be discussed by its leaders. It was solely his charisma and constant urging that had made this whole thing happen.

And now… the assembled chiefs were not happy to have had their time wasted, just so Alazark could present some ridiculous plan for orc unification and world domination.

One of them spoke up, Chief Gularz of the Crimson-Claw clan. “And suppose we were to go along with this nonsense.” He growled, his face angry, teeth and tusks bared. “Who here would be the overall leader of the united orcs?”

Alazark simply smiled back at him, projecting an air of extreme smugness. “Why, me of course! With you all as my loyal obedient lieutenants…”

The room erupted in outrage, the gathered chieftains snarled and yelling in response, some calling him a ‘young upstart’ while others declared they would never obey the likes of him, some green-skinned hands even rested threateningly on weapons…

Waiting for the initial burst of anger to die down, Alazark raised his hands and called for quiet. The chiefs calmed slightly, but remained obviously angry at him.

The young orc chief reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a small glass vial. “Despite what many of you here may believe, I am no fool. I fully expected this reaction. That is why I spiked the ale you’ve all been drinking this entire time.”

All the orcs around the table glared down at their half-empty mugs in horror. “You dare to poison us?” One of them said.

“Poison?” Alazark laughed. “No. Killing you all would get me nowhere. It’s a special potion that took many years of alchemical research to create. It allows the easy enslavement of the mind of any who drink it, completely opening their thoughts to suggestion and instruction…”

The orc chiefs looked confused at this revelation.

“Yes, I know none of you feel different right now.” Alazark explained, rolling the glass vial between his fingers. “The potion remains dormant until activated by a special odour. Here, allow me to show you all!”

He flung the vial at the centre of the table. It shattered and the liquid contents evaporated an instant, filling the air with a pungent, musky aroma.

The effect on the orc chieftains sat around the table was quick. Within seconds of the smell hitting their nostrils, they each relaxed, muscular armour-clad bodies slumping in their chairs. Their eyes glazed over as their minds went blank, unable to form even the most rudimentary of thoughts.

“Now you’ll all be much more accepting of my ideas!” Alazark chuckled. He strolled confidently around the table and the dazed, unthinking orc chiefs. After all the many years of scheming, his plans were finally coming to fruition and he felt exhilarated that this moment had finally arrived.

“From this day forward,” He declared as he went, for all of them to hear. “You will all be unswervingly loyal and obedient to me. You will see me as your superior, your master, your ruler. The rightful supreme Overlord of all orc-kind. Do you all understand?”

The orc chiefs all murmured that they did, sending a thrill through Alazark.

He continued. “You will obey my commands without question or hesitation. You will dedicate your lives to serving me and my goals…”

“Yes, Overlord….” The orc chiefs muttered, Alazark’s words sinking into their heads and taking permanent root.

“You first tasks after leaving here will be to bring your clans under control.” Alazark explained. “You will take a supply of my potion and use it to enslave them all to me, explain to them how I am now their Overlord and Master.”

“Yes, Overlord.” Came the reply from the chieftains.

Alazark laughed. “Excellent!” He clapped his hands together. “But we have plenty of time before you all need to leave, so let us do something I’ve been dreaming of for a very long time. All of you on your feet and strip! I’m going to fuck the hell out of each and every one of you!”

The chieftains obeyed and soon Alazark was treated to the sight of the rulers of the great orc clans stripping for him and happily presenting their asses for their Overlord to use, a parade of muscular green-skinned bodies his to do with as he pleased. At one point or another, all of them had looked down on him, claiming he was unsuited to rule a clan. It was so satisfying to now have them under his control, slaves for him to take advantage of whenever he liked.

Alazark, got to work, pounding his cock into the first large orc chieftain, dreaming of the upcoming day when he would have every orc at his disposal like this, the day when he could begin his campaign of conquest to rule the whole world.

 


Refusing a Rescue



Groknar reclined back on the bed, dressed only in the skimpiest of his black leather loincloths, adopting an alluring pose, awaiting his next customer.

He was looking forward to it. He couldn’t wait to see what they wanted to do with him. It was always such a thrill to be used sexually by a stranger. It was why he enjoyed being a whore so much. Well, that and it made Sir happy.

The door to his room opened and his customer stepped inside, closing it again behind him. He was a little surprised that he was an orc. Despite being an orc himself, very few other orcs ever seemed to want to make use of him.

This one was different from the few other orcs that had visited him, though. He was as big and musclebound as Groknar himself, wearing heavy plate armour adorned with all sorts of etchings and markings. An accomplished warrior of some standing then.

“By the Gods.” The new arrival said, staring at him in shock. “It really is you…”

“Yes, it is me.” Groknar said, seductively flexing his green bulging muscles. “Now how about you get out of that armour and let’s get down to fucking?”

“Groknar, it’s me!” The orc warrior said, urgently. “Your old friend Kraken! I’ve been searching for you for you ever since you disappeared... When I heard tales of an orc matching your description working as a lowly whore at some backstreet brothel, I couldn’t believe it… but here you are! What happened? Why are you here?”

Groknar stared at him, blankly. “Sorry, handsome, I have no idea who you are. And I’m here because I belong here, because I love being a horny slut of an orc!”

“Oh, my Chief Groknar., what has been done to you?” Kraken despaired, stepping towards him. “You are Groknar the Great, legendary warrior and chieftain!”

“No.” The orc lounging on the bed giggled. “I’m Groknar the happy orc whore!”

The warrior snarled. “Whoever has cursed you like this, I will slay them with my bare hands! Fear not, my friend, I will rescue you from this and see you restored to…”

He didn’t get to say another word as he was struck on the side of the head by a heavy wooden club. He crashed to the floor, moaning, barely conscious.

Groknar glared at him, hoping he’d done the right thing. The wooden club he kept by the bed was only supposed to be used in extreme circumstances with problem customers.

Dropping the club on the bed, he padded across to the door and yanked it open. “Sir!” He called out. “Problem customer!”

A few seconds later, a short and skinny goblin arrived, pushing past him into the room to survey the still groaning Kraken on the floor.

“Well?” He demanded, glaring impatiently up at Groknar, who was almost twice his height and easily three times as muscular. “What’s going on here?”

Groknar shuffled nervously, feeling awash with submissiveness as he always did in the goblin’s presence. He was eager not to anger him, as that always made him feel terrible. After all, he lived to make Sir happy. He just knew absolutely it was the true purpose of his life.

“Well, Sir…” Groknar stammered, stumbling over his words. “It’s just that… he…”

“Hurry up and spit it out, slut!” The goblin sneered. “I don’t have all day!”

“I’m sorry, Sir!” Groknar said, staring at his feet in shame. “But… he claimed he knew me, said I was some kind of chief. You always told me to be careful of anyone who said that. And then he was saying he was going to rescue me from here, restore me… Suddenly, hitting him and telling you seemed the best thing to do…”

“I see.” The goblin sighed, looking at Kraken. The orc warrior looked like he was starting to recover.

“Sir…” Groknar asked nervously. “No one’s going to take me away from you are they, Sir?”

“Of course not!” The goblin laughed. “The amount of money you make for me and my brothel… I’m not going to let anyone take you away from here!” He fumbled at his belt, pulling something out of a pouch.

Groknar felt relief wash over him at Sir’s reassurance. There wasn’t anywhere in the world he wanted to be more than Sir’s brothel.

“I’ll take care of this problem.” The goblin said. In his hand, he has holding a red glowing gemstone, with intricate mystical symbols carved in its surface.

He stepped over to the fallen orc warrior and lifted the head so that Kraken could see the gem. His eyes fell on the stone and froze, going wide.

“That’s right…” Sir was saying, just look deep into the stone. It’s already got you enthralled, you can’t look away. Just relax and let its power flow through you…”

“Let its power flow through me…” Kraken murmured, his gaze not moving from the glowing gem for an instant.

“Your mind is completely under my control now…” The goblin told him.

“My mind is completely under your control now…” Kraken agreed.

Sir laughed and looked to Groknar. “Don’t worry, my big orc slut, you did the right thing. You might even have earned the privilege of having me fuck you later.”

The big orc thrilled at that prospect. Sex with Sir was always the best, most pleasurable sexual activity he ever experienced. And at the brothel, he’d had a lot of experience. “Thank you, Sir!”

“And it looks like you’re going to have a new co-worker!” The goblin said. “Once I get through magically twisting his mind like I did with you, he’ll be just as much a sex-hungry slut as you are!” He giggled. “Oh, the possibilities! I know some high-class perverts who will pay handsomely for a threesome with a pair of muscle-bound orcs!”

Looking at Kraken, Groknar mused that it looked as if the two of them would be involved in some sex together after all. He was already looking forward to it.

“On your feet!” Sir commanded the warrior. “And follow me!”

“On my feet… Follow you…” Kraken murmured, hauling himself off the floor as the goblin made sure he maintained eye contact with the glowing gem the whole time.

“As for you, slut, get ready for your next customer.” The goblin commanded as he led the dazed and entranced orc warrior out of the room.

“Yes, Sir!” Said Groknar. He returned to the bed, forgetting about Kraken for the moment and focusing himself completely on earning money for Sir and enjoying every second of it. After putting the club away, he resumed his alluring position, and was ready for whatever sexual demands the next customer might have…

 


 

Enslaved by Arrow



“Need some help with that?”

Marock looked up at the voice, and his hand immediately went to his sword. He might not be able to fight as effectively with an injured shoulder, but he was an orc and he would go down fighting, Gods damn it!

Stepping into the clearing was another orc, wearing little more than a loincloth. He had a quiver of arrows strapped across his back and was carrying a heavy longbow. Marock had recognised him as the one responsible for the arrow embedded in his shoulder. One of the gang or orcs that had ambushed his hunting party.

“Come to finish me off?” Marock snarled. It was agony to hold up his weapon, but he did it anyway.

The other orc simply laughed. “No, I’m here to help you. Just as my comrades are helping your friends. Let me take out that arrow and bandage the wound.”

“You’re the one who gave me this wound!” Marock did his best to brandish his sword threateningly. “Why would you want to help me?”

“The commands of my Lord.” The other orc explained. “All we encounter are to be exposed to his will, but not killed. If I had wanted you dead, I could have filled you full of arrows by now…”

Marock had to admit that was true. He lowered his sword a little. But he was still very confused. “I don’t understand...”

“I know how you feel.” The archer orc smiled. “I was once where you are. Shot by a strange orc for no apparent reason… But then my Lord’s will took hold of me and all became clear. I now serve him, and soon, you shall too.”

“I serve no one!” Marock said, raising his sword again, causing more waves of pain. “And I will not let you do anything to make me!”

“It’s already done!” The archer happily declared. “Soon, you will be one of his loyal slaves just like me!”

Already done? Marock didn’t know what he could possibly mean. And then realization dawned as he looked at the arrow still protruding from his shoulder.

“That’s right.” The orc archer said, seeing that he’d figure it out. “My arrow…”

“Poisoned?” Marock guessed. The shoulder was starting to tingle a little….

“Not poison.” The archer corrected. “A special mystical concoction created by my Lord for one purpose. To burn out the free will of the subject and replace it with his will, enslaving the subject completely. It should start working very soon…”

The archer was correct, as a few seconds later, the tingling in his shoulder was replaced with an intense burning sensation that rapidly spread through his whole body. His sword slipped from his grasp as he squirmed and writhed on the ground, feeling as if every fibre of his being was on fire.

“You’ll love serving our Lord’s cause.” The archer was saying. “You’ll be incapable of not loving it. He is such a gorgeous and powerful demon, it is an honour and privilege to belong to him…”

Marock was not listening, his whole body burning. But it wasn’t painful. It was pleasurable, the most intense pleasure he’d ever felt, his cock was now rock hard and straining against his armour.

He could feel all his will and resistance being stripped away, replaced by the desire to serve and obey his demonic Lord for all eternity… and yet he didn’t care. It felt so good, so amazing, he found himself yearning for a life of slavery…

The pleasure suddenly reached a peak and he was hit by an intense orgasm that obliterated the last of his will in an instant. His cock exploded, hot cum filling the inside of his armour’s codpiece with warm stickiness.

“I live to serve my Lord!” He cried out as the ecstasy washed through his shuddering body, and then he passed out from the intensity of it all.

Marock awoke a little while later, and was instantly struck with the knowledge of his new life. He was a slave to his demon Lord, and would be for all eternity. A wide smile spread across his face at the thought.

“You’re awake. Good.”

Sitting up, Marock found that while he was out, he had been stripped of his armour, which lay strewn about, and he had been dressed in just a simple loincloth, his heavy bulging green muscles left exposed to the cool air. But it didn’t bother him in the slightest. He knew instinctively that was how his Lord liked his slaves to be dressed.

The arrow had been removed and his shoulder bandaged. It felt a little stiff, be he was certain it would heal nicely.

The orc archer was stood over him, smiling. “You understand now?”

“Yes.” Marock nodded. “I belong to our Lord. I will serve him now and forever.”

The archer helped him to his feet. “Then let us be off. We must return to the others. There is an orc village nearby that our Lord wishes enslaved. You will do what you can to help.”

“Of course.” Marock agreed. It didn’t concern him at all that the village in question had been his home. If anything, he felt pleased that everyone he knew would soon know the pleasure of serving their demon Lord just as he now did…
 


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