The Exile’s Path, Chapter 02

The Exile’s Path, Chapter 02 - The Rhythm of a New Life

The smithy that served Bal’s Post’s harbour was a small, open air affair. Set off to one side of a small, wooden house, the forge area was surrounded by a low stone wall, against which sat a few sturdy tables and the hearth and chimney. A shirtless dwarf, dressed in leather trousers and a scuffed and battered leather apron was shovelling coal from a small handcart into the hearth. The sides of the young woman’s head were shaved. Running from her fringe to the back of her neck was a short, dirty blonde mohawk that that she wore in a tight braid. Her arms and shoulders were heavily muscled and her shirtless state displayed them and her tanned skin to good effect. Tula was impressed. The corners of the smith’s blue eyes crinkled and her ruddy cheeks creased as she smiled cheerfully at the orc.

“G’day ma’am,” she said, giving Tula a nod. “Name’s Fiona. What can I do for you?”

“Greetings. I am Tula. I would like to purchase a dagger.”

“That can be arranged,” said Fiona, leaning her shovel against the cart and walking over to a table beside the forge. There were a few canvas wrapped bundles lying on the various tables and the dwarf unfurled one of them to reveal a selection of short blades. “I’ve mostly got longknives - the fishermen like those - but there’s a couple of other options.”

Tula approached the displayed implements and looked them over while Fiona moved on to the next counter and unwrapped the bundle seated upon it. Despite her apparent youth (it was generally difficult to guess the age of a dwarf, blessed with long lives as they were, similar to elvenkind) the blades she had displayed for Tula were of excellent craftsmanship. However, they were predominantly of the long, fine, razor sharp type favored by the local fishermen; there were only a few stouter dirks and daggers among the selection.

Once she had finished unfurling the rest of her wares, the smith returned to Tula’s side. “So, what d’you think?”

“These are of good workmanship,” said the orc, “but I am looking for something a bit more robust and it need not be so long.” She picked up a dirk with a simple, spear-point blade, three quarters the length of her forearm with a leather wrapped handle, capped by an iron ball pommel.

“That’s a decent piece right there, if I do say so myself,” said Fiona. “Mandun style. Bit of a fighting blade, to be honest. Not what I usually sell.”

“I like it.”

“You’ve got a good eye, then. Point’s tapered enough to get through a thick hide,” said the dwarf, before giving the orc a shrewd look, “or leather and gambeson, if that’s your fancy. Good shroud-steel blade and a full-length gutter - nice and light but proper strong. I’ll let it go for four pence.”

“Two pence and we have a deal.”

The smith chuckled. “We both know I’m going to sell it for three.”

“Agreed,” said Tula, handing over the coins. “Do you have a sheath and a belt for it?”

“I’m no leather-worker, but I can whip one up for you,” said Fiona. “What say we skip the haggling and agree that two coin will cover the work and materials?”

“That is a fair price,” said Tula, “but I can not pay it right now. I should be able to pay by tomorrow, if that is acceptable.”

“I dunno, lady,” shrugged the dwarf. “No offence, but I’ve never seen you around town before. I don’t want to spend my arvo cuttin’ a belt and scabbard for you only to find you can’t scrape up the coin.”

“I will be able to pay,” insisted Tula. “I am new here, it is true, but I have employment.”

“Yeah? Where’re you workin’?”

“I am a ‘wench’ at the inn,” announced the orc proudly. Fiona struggled to hide the grin the orc’s dignified pronouncement elicited.

“Huh, workin’ for Dan, eh?”

“Yes,” said Tula. “He hired me today.”

“Well,” said Fiona, scratching her chin and peering speculatively at the orc, “Alright then. I hope you’re not goin’ to scarper on me.”

“So we have a deal?”

“We do,” nodded the smith. “Leave the dagger with me, I’ll need it for fitting. I’m by the inn most nights for a drink - I’ll come by this evenin’ and drop it off with the belt and sheath.”

After exchanging thanks, Tula left the smithy. She spent the remainder of the morning walking the streets of the harbour, getting the lay of the land. Two main roads met at a T-junction outside the city’s southern gates. One ran north along the shore of the Darksea, from the capital, Tennegen, in the south, around the city walls and up into the Shrouded Mountains. The other led westwards towards Sandrest and the Kingdom of Dirne.

Unwilling to pay the fee for a pass into the city, Tula turned away from the guards at the gate and returned to the waterfront. She took a seat on the end of one of the piers and ate her lunch before returning to the inn, pausing to have a drink from the well in the rear courtyard of the tavern.

“Civilized people tend to use a ladle or a cup,” said a haughty, young, male voice. Tula looked up to see a youth leaning against the wall beside the kitchen entrance. With hair the same light brown colour as Danton’s and a similar cast to his features, Tula guessed that the lad was the innkeeper’s son.

The boy was handsome and tall, but lacked the muscles that were the gift of hard work. He was dressed in a well-tailored green tunic and white trousers that were tucked into tall brown boots. A strange instrument, similar in appearance to a flat drum but ringed with bells, leaned against the wall by his legs.

“I do not have one,” said Tula, letting the water run from her cupped hands. She walked over to the youth.

“You must be the orc dad was talking about,” said the boy, examining the orc imperiously. “I’m Giles. The bard.”

“You sing?”

“I perform,” stated Giles. “I’m rather well known in the city. Quite popular with the nobles.”

“Okay,” said Tula, shrugging. The youth’s claim to fame meant little to her.

“A little old for a wench, aren’t you?” said the bard, a snide undertone to his voice. Tula guessed he felt snubbed by her lack of deference. “Perhaps the curiosity of a blowjob between a pair of tusks will be enough of an attraction to make some coin.” As Tula reached the door, the boy casually reached out and groped her breast. “These are nice enough, I suppose.”

Looking calmly into the youth’s eyes, Tula reached up and grasped the wrist of his offending hand. The boy tried to resist, but the orc effortlessly removed his hand from her tit. “You will not do that without invitation. Do you understand?”

“How dare you!” growled the bard. “You work for me!”

Tula squeezed her fist. Giles’ face blanched as the orc casually bruised his wrist.

“I work for your father, boy,” Tula quietly asserted before letting the young man’s hand drop.

Cradling his arm, Giles scowled at the greenskin. “If you’ve injured my hand in any way, I’ll make sure-”

The kitchen door opened to reveal Victoria, the innkeeper’s wife. “Oh, hello Tula! Good to see you again. I see you’ve met Giles!”

“Yes,” nodded the orc. “We were just getting acquainted.”

“Well, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need Giles to fill a few buckets from the well.”

“Mother!” objected the callow youth. “I was just about to perform! Get the orc to do it.”

Victoria’s brow furrowed. “Giles! Don’t be so rude to our new friend!” she scolded. “You know that’s not her job and I told you to do it, so you’d better hop to it!”

While her son slouched past her into the kitchen, the pretty blonde woman gave Tula an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, dear. I can’t believe he would be so rude.”

“It is not a problem,” said Tula. “Is now a good time for me to commence work?”

“Oh yes,” nodded Victoria with a warm smile. “The guards are changing shifts and the taproom is filling up. Dan could most certainly use the help - I’m sure there’s one or two patrons in need of some attention.”

The friendly woman led Tula into the kitchen, oblivious to her son’s scowl towards the orc as she chattered on and he stomped past with an empty bucket in his arms. “I do miss the days when we had nan to help in the kitchen and I could spend some time working the tables - it could be such fun,” she said with a small, fond smile. “Speaking of the kitchen; we have fresh bread and fish stew if the patrons are hungry, ha’pence a bowl. Ale is ha’pence as well and it’s one coin for the wine.”

The common room was quite lively. A substantial number of guards were seated at the bar and at various tables, wearing simple gambesons under the orange tabards of the city, along with a few armed figures who Tula took to be mercenaries and a smattering of civilians, most in the plain garb of peasants. All the patrons appeared to be human, but for two finely attired elves sitting at a table near the door.

One of the better dressed humans was seated on a bench close to the hearth, his trousers pulled down to his thighs. Jessemyn was on her knees between his legs, her head bobbing up and down as she fellated him. Another well dressed man sat beside the pair, idly watching the blonde girl work.

“Ah! Tula, good that you’re here,” said Danton, looking over at the orc as she entered the room. The big man was pouring a tankard of ale from a cask behind the bar. Tula walked over to him.

“How may I be of assistance?” asked the orc. She noticed many of the tavern’s patrons were watching her with interest.

“Why don’t you walk around and see if the fish are biting?” said the barkeep cheerfully.

Tula nodded. “Alright, I sha-”

“Uh, I’ll take a blowjob,” said one of the guards sitting at the bar, before Tula could finish her reply, “if you’re offering…”

The enthusiastic guard grinned at the female soldier sitting next to him. “Never had an orc suck me off before!”

Tula shrugged and sauntered over to the excited man. “Very well,” she said. “Disrobe.”

Beaming eagerly, the soldier got to his feet and unbuckled his belt, handing it and the sword hanging from it to his female counterpart. The woman took the weapon and belt and placed it on the bar before leaning an elbow on the counter and resting her chin on her hand. She watched her fellow guard yank down his trousers and pull up his gambeson and tabard. His cock dangled, pulsing gently, between his legs.

“Straight to the point, this one,” said the guard, grinning at the innkeeper. “Where’d you find her, Danto-ohhh!”

The young soldier’s words trailed off into a sigh of pleasure as Tula calmly slid his shaft into her mouth. With practiced gusto, she got to work. Her head bobbed back and forth, the man’s penis hardening quickly in her mouth until he was rigid and swollen with arousal. Craning her neck forward, the orc took hold of the man’s hips and pulled him towards her, drawing his cock into her gullet. With his balls against her chin, the soldier gasped and gripped Tula’s head as she swallowed his bloated member, her throat flexing and contracting around his cock like a silken vice.

The guard’s hips bucked uncontrollably, but Tula kept sucking, unfazed by his spasms. She felt his fuck-meat pulse and throb in her throat. The watchman’s eyes rolled back and he grunted like an animal, his hands locked to the sides of the orc’s head. Lips forming a tight seal around the base of the cock stuffing her mouth, Tula let him shoot his seed directly into her stomach.

Once he was spent, the orc pulled the deflating shaft from her mouth and got to her feet, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. The young soldier stumbled backwards and sat down on his barstool, panting heavily. Beside him, his female comrade laughed heartily.

“Damn, Andurs, you lasted maybe a minute,” she chortled.

“Shiiit,” groaned the spent male. “That was crazy.”

A couple of the inn’s other patrons had been watching the display and they joined the female soldier in her mirth. Tula ignored them. “My payment, if you would.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” mumbled the blushing watchman, reaching for the coinpurse on his belt.

Tula put the coins he gave her into the leather wrapper that had contained her lunch. As she tucked it into the waistband of her shorts, she felt a large hand give her ass a wanton squeeze and a large, scruffy mercenary leaned past her to slam three coins onto the counter.

“Let’s see if I can’t last a little longer than the whelp,” said the merc. With dark brown skin, meaty, muscled arms and a barrel chest, the warrior was as big as an orc.

The heavily muscled soldier had left his equipment with his two comrades who were seated at a nearby table and gave Tula a hungry smile when she turned around to face him. She met his gaze, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

“Let us see, then,” she agreed, pulling her makeshift purse out of her shorts and depositing it on the bar.

With a leering grin, the big man unlaced the fly of his striped trousers, letting them fall to his knees to reveal a hefty slab of cock-meat. Tula reached down and weighed the hardening phallus in her palm while the brawny soldier manhandled her titties through her shirt. The girthy shaft rivalled an orcish schlong for size and Tula’s cunt moistened in anticipation. She gave the delicious organ a few tugs before releasing it to pull down her shorts.

Placing her discarded pants on the bar next to her purse, Tula turned around and presented her arse to the bulky mercenary. The big man grunted in approval at the sight of the orc’s fine, large, round buttocks. Prying them apart, he flopped his stiffening member between her glorious buttcheeks and slid it up and down, using her asscrack to caress his shaft to full hardness.

A small crowd had gathered around the pair by now, eagerly watching Tula as she bent over the bar and readied herself to be mounted. The orc did not mind having an audience. She arched her back, sticking out her ass for the patron who had purchased time in her pussy. As she assumed the position, she saw the door to the kitchen open. Giles emerged, holding his tambourine, his eyes drawn to the cluster of customers surrounding the half-naked orc. Tula ignored the scowl he sent her way as he haughtily strode past her, making for a clear spot beside the hearth. She was uninterested in playing petty games with the lad. Besides, she had a delicious cock to fuck.

One hand still on her upraised ass, the big mercenary looked around at his audience, smiling like an arena champion, and guided his shaft into the hot, moist, orc cunt before him. Tula grunted in approval as she was penetrated. The man’s bloated tool felt exquisite, filling her in a way she hadn’t felt for some time time. Her quim embraced the meaty organ like it was welcoming an old friend home. There was a general murmur of approval from the gathered onlookers.

From beside the fire, Giles launched into a ribald ditty, clapping his instrument in time with the song’s salacious words, but few of the patrons paid any heed to the young man’s singing. Almost all eyes were drawn to the lewd scene beside the bar, where the bulky warrior-for-hire had begun fucking the orc wench’s offered cunt. Her legs spread, her arms braced against the wooden counter, Tula pushed back against her customer’s heavy thrusts, her lips twisted in a grimace of satisfaction as her cunny was exquisitely stretched by a suitably hefty breeding-pole. Each time the broad intruder pulled back, the orc clenched her twat, as if resisting the girthy organ’s retreat. Each time the bloated tool pushed back into her, her fuck-hole grew wetter with arousal and released an obscene squelch.

Soon, the sounds of the pair’s fevered rutting overpowered Giles’ singing and the bard was forced to raise his voice to be heard over the meaty slaps of the mercenary’s skin smacking against Tula’s buttocks and the rambunctious cheering of the copulating couple’s audience. It was a losing battle for the singer. When the beefy soldier peeled off his linen shirt and tossed it aside and turned Tula around to lift her up and seat her on the bar, the gathered crowd hooted in delight.

Tula stripped off her own top and wrapped her arms around the merc’s bull-like neck. Her heaving titties mashed against the soldier’s broad chest as she grabbed him. With her legs spread in invitation, the big man fed his juice-slick pole back into Tula’s cunny and grabbed her ass, lifting her off the bar. In an impressive display of strength he held her aloft, one of her asscheeks in each of his calloused hands, and began fucking her with feral intensity. Tula wrapped her legs around his hips and clenched her arms around his neck, her eyes locked to his, her lips displaying a carnal snarl of insistent lust.

The sounds of their mating were even louder, thanks to their new position. The mercenary’s pelvis clapped noisily against the orc’s cunny, the loud, rhythmical *fwap fwap fwap* throwing Giles’ latest melody into disarray. The young bard tried to start another song, but it was useless - the vulgar sounds of Tula and the soldier’s breeding and the hoots and hollers of the assembled onlookers were a symphony that no lone voice and measly tambourine could compete with. Rolling his eyes in frustration, the bard slouched against the wall, ignored, and watched jealously as Tula’s performance dominated the room.

For her part, Tula was oblivious to the brooding singer. All that mattered was the building pleasure in her stuffed pussy. The muscled mercenary’s hearty rutting was pounding her towards climax and it was going to be huge. When the mounting pressure finally became too strong to resist, she growled ferociously and almost crushed her partner’s neck in her embrace. Her skin shone with sweat. Her muscles corded with effort. Her cunt gushed with delight.

Fluid splattered the floor as Tula came. Her well-fucked cunny spasmed around the heavy tool stuffed inside it. Holding the orgasming orc tight against his dark brown skin, the merc grunted in bestial pleasure and joined her in climax. His bloated cock throbbed, his balls heaved and, even through the haze of bliss radiating from her spasming cunt, Tula felt the searing hot jets of his cum surging into her cock-hole.

The two sweaty figures stood almost motionless, but for the subtle flexing of their hips, as the brawny soldier inseminated the green skinned, amazonian wench. Their eyes remained locked together in a challenging stare while a heavy dose of jism was transferred along the merc’s pulsing cum-hose into the greenskin’s welcoming hole.

Cum transfer complete, the sated soldier finally pulled his cock out of Tula’s cunt with a sloppy slurp. A thick dollop of his seed hung scandalously from her well-used pussy before it swung to cling wetly to the inside of her thigh.

“Hells!” sighed the big warrior, looking over at his comrades. “Haven’t had a fuck like that since that place in Top Town!”

“Them orc ladies,” nodded one of his only slightly less imposing compatriots. “They know how to scratch an itch.”

Tula leaned back against the bar, jizz oozing slowly from her twat and down her thigh. She felt Danton’s hand on her bare shoulder as he gave her a friendly squeeze. “Nicely done,” said the beaming barkeep. “Vicky can get you a cloth to clean up back in the kitchen.”

The rest of the afternoon was not so productive. Although many of the inn’s patrons were more than happy to steal a quick squeeze of her ass or a grope of her tits as she brought drinks and food to the tables, Tula ended up with only two more customers. She ended up jerking off a fishmonger on a bench beside the hearth while he played with her titties and sucking a wagon driver to orgasm while he leaned against the bar, drinking an ale. Still, by the time the sun began to set, the orc was a few pence richer after Danton had taken his cut.

The crowd thinned out as the afternoon wound down, but began to pick up once more after sunset as the fishing boats returned. While she went around the tables, Tula looked for the dwarven smith, Fiona, while also peering out the windows when she could to check if Reld’s boat was moored to the jetty.

“So, you weren’t pullin’ my leg about being a wench here,” said Fiona, walking up to the orc while she was returning to the bar after serving a pitcher of ale to a table.

“I do not lie,” said Tula.

“Oh, relax, girl,” grinned the dwarven smith. “I’m only havin’ a bit o’ fun.”

Tula smiled back at the dwarf, in part to show she understood the friendly joshing and partly because she hadn’t been called ‘girl’ by anyone for many years. Although she looked young, Fiona was a dwarf and, thanks to their incredibly long lives, was probably justified in her use of the term - almost everyone in the city, barring only the oldest citizens, was probably a mere boy or girl to the smith.

“I see you have my dagger and belt,” said the orc.

“That I do. You working at the moment?”

“Yes,” said Tula, “but I shall be finished soon. I am looking for my friend - he should be returning from fishing at any moment.”

“Well, why don’t you throw in the towel now and I’ll spend some of the coin you’re about to give me on a pitcher of ale for the two of us?” said Fiona with a friendly smile. “Not often I get to chat with someone who isn’t a bloody fisherman ‘round these parts.”

After an afternoon on her feet, a chance to sit down and have a drink was a welcome offer. Tula smiled again. “Thank you.”

The blacksmith exchanged one of the two coins Tula gave her with Danton for a pitcher of ale, while Tula let the barman know she was taking a break from her duties. Obviously well acquainted with the blonde dwarf, Danton gave both women a friendly smile before turning to attend to his other patrons.

“Nice enough bloke, that one,” said Fiona, cocking her head towards the bar once she and Tula had taken a seat at a table beside one of the inn’s front windows. “Fucks well for a fat man.”

Tula raised an eyebrow. “You pay him to service you?”

“Oh yeah,” grinned the smith. “Not that I have a shortage of cocks that want a taste o’ dwarf pussy round here, but Danton’s one of the few who doesn’t stink of fish all the time. Can’t stand the damn smell and I can’t believe these folks can eat the stuff all the time!”

The orc laughed. She had to admit the dwarf was right - even Reld had a slightly fishy odour. “What of his son?”

“What, Giles?” scoffed Fiona. “Bah, that uppity little shit thinks he’s nobility by the way he carries himself. A pretty enough boy, but I’ll not do him the favor of paying him to fill my cunt.”

“If you do not like fish, why set up shop here?” said Tula. “This is a fishing town, after all.”

“Now that’s an astute inquiry,” said the dwarf carefully. Before she could complete her response, however, the door behind Tula opened and the smith peered past the orc to observe the newcomers. Dropping her voice to near a whisper, she continued. “Ah, it seems the lord high duchess of fish guts herself has arrived.”

The orc cast a quick glance over her shoulder. A group of three humans had entered the common room. Two men and a woman, all dressed in plain clothes, scanned the room before striding over to an empty table. Despite their attempt at common garb, even Tula could tell by the fine stitching and the cleanliness of their clothing that these were no true commoners. The manner with which they strode over to the table of their choosing, like they owned the building, and the fine arming swords they wore screamed ‘nobility’.

“I thought a duke was lord of the city,” said Tula.

“He is,” said the smith quietly. “That black haired girl and the boy who looks like her twin are his daughter and son.”

Giles, who had been singing a bland melody up to that point, ceased his music and scurried over to the table. Tula could not hear what was spoken, but could tell by the bard’s obsequious manner and fawning expression that he was all but one bow away from kissing the newcomer’s feet.

“You do not seem to respect these nobles,” said Tula before taking a healthy swig of her ale. It was a merely adequate brew, but chilled and refreshing nonetheless.

Fiona laughed. “Am I that obvious? Pah, these fisherfolk smell and I’m no fan of their catch, but they’re hard workin’ people. The duke bleeds em dry though, both through taxes and on the battlefield. Fuck ‘em.”

The pair watched as Giles returned to the nobles’ table with an amphora of wine. After the bard had poured three glasses, the duke’s daughter stood and carried hers toward the stairs. The innkeeper’s son followed her.

“Why do they come to this inn? Surely there are other places to drink in the city, to say nothing of the castle.”

“I’m not really sure,” Fiona replied slowly, as if pondering the matter. “Seen them here more than a few times - the girl always goes off with Giles. Despite what he might think, it’s not because of his charm and I’ve seen his dick - it’s not that either.”

“How strange,” remarked the orc, glancing out the window as she downed the remainder of her mug. She noticed Reld’s boat bobbing against the pier. “It seems my friend has returned from fishing.”

“You’ll be off then?” said Fiona.

“Yes. Thank you for the drink.”

“Hey, my pleasure,” grinned the dwarf. “Nice to talk with someone about somethin’ that isn’t fish. Let’s do this again sometime.”

“That would be nice,” said Tula, nodding as she buckled on her new belt and dagger.

The smith gave her a friendly wave as Tula stepped out the door into the darkening streets and made her way back to Reld’s shack. Following the flow of returning fisherfolk, Tula was greeted by the smell of sizzling fish outside the door of her young friend’s house. With her stomach rumbling, she went inside.

Reld was kneeling by the fire pit, frying a fish in a skillet. He looked up as the orc entered. “Hi Tula,” he smiled. “Just in time for some dinner.”

Tula returned his smile. “Greetings. Did you have success on the lake today?”

“Yep. Made five pence today,” said the fisherman. “What about you? Were there any offers of work at the inn?”

“Indeed,” announced Tula. “I have been hired as a ‘whore’.”

The greenskin couldn’t help but notice how Reld’s smile fell away. “You’re a… wench at the inn?”

“Yes. I made enough to purchase a dagger, with some coins left over,” she replied, puzzled by the youth’s less than happy expression. She removed her the copper coins from her makeshift purse and put them on the table. “You should put these with your savings.”

“They’re yours,” grunted Reld, turning back to the food he was preparing. “You keep ‘em.”

“We should combine our savings, lad,” objected Tula. “We work towards a common goal.”

“Fine,” huffed Reld, standing up and unceremoniously depositing their dinner on the table. Tula portioned out the meal onto the plates while the lad tucked away her coins in his hidden stash.

Dinner passed in uncomfortable silence. When Tula made to take their empty plates, Reld snatched them away and abruptly strode out the door. Shaking her head at the boy’s grumpy state, the orc followed him out and down to the lakeshore.

“You are angry,” she stated, coming to stand behind the young man while he angrily scrubbed their dishes.

“No, I’m fine.”

“You do not like the work I have found?”

“It’s your body, your choice,” grumbled Reld.

“Yes, it is my choice and it will make us much coin,” said Tula. “You think it is not an honourable way to earn payment?”

“No… It’s not like that, I’m not some prude… It’s just…”

“You thought you would be my only mate?” asked the orc.

“Well…” mumbled the boy. “I don’t know. Maybe. Sure.” He tossed the wooden plate he was scrubbing on the pile of clean dishes and turned to face Tula. “Fine. Maybe I am a little jealous.”

Tula grinned in the darkness. As petulant as the lad was being, it was still a little nice to feel wanted. “Our agreement still stands. You may take me when you need.”

“So if I wanted to have you here and now, you would let me?”

“No,” replied the orc. Reld looked confused. “No, now we must train. If you do well, then you can take me as a warrior.”

“What?” Reld protested. “I’m tired - can’t we train in the morning?”

“Strip,” commanded Tula, casually peeling off her own clothing. “Battle does not wait for you to be rested.”

“Why are we getting naked?” quizzed Reld, taking off his shirt nonetheless. “And don’t we something to practice with? Sticks or staves or something?”

“No, your first lesson will be with your bare hands.”

“I know how to brawl,” quipped Reld.

“Then show me.”

Reld spread his legs and took a fighting stance, fists balled and held low. “Good,” said Tula. “Now attack me.”

“Are you sure?” grinned Reld, flexing his work-hardened biceps. “I’m not new to this.”

The greenskin woman facing him didn’t bother with a vocal response. She took two quick steps forward, flicking her left fist out towards Reld’s face. The youth raised his forearms, catching the punch on the backs of his arms. The defensive maneuver exposed his stomach, but, instead of landing a blow on his exposed solar plexus, Tula spread her right hand, sliding it up the young man’s stomach to his chest while stepping past him. With one calf hooked behind the fisherman’s leg, the orc pushed against his chest, sending him tottering backwards.

Not to be outdone by such a simple trick, Reld laughed and hooked his left arm around Tula’s neck and twisted sideways as he tumbled back, attempting to bring the greenskin down under him as he fell. The wizened warrior was having none of it, however. Her legs were well planted and her muscles bunched as she grabbed the boy’s left wrist with her own left hand. With a powerful tug on his offending limb, Tula bent at the waist and slid her right arm and shoulder under Reld’s ribs. Continuing the smooth movement, she straightened, hefting the off-balance fisherman up and over her back. There was a loud splash as Reld was hurled into the shallow water of the lake.

“Your footwork is terrible,” grunted the orc, offering a hand to the drenched boy.

Refusing the offered aid, Reld bellowed and launched himself forward, arms spread. He tackled Tula about the waist, lifting her up and carrying her back a few paces before plunging her back against the sandy shore. An older fisherwoman, bringing her own dishes down to the shore to clean them, paused, startled, as she caught site of the two naked, brawling figures in the flickering light of her lamp.

Snarling fiercely, Reld tried to pull up from his position atop Tula but discovered the greenskin had wrapped her arm around his neck. He drove his right fist into her ribs, trying to pummel his way loose.

“Bah!” growled Tula. “Aggression is good, but you lack control! If this was real, I would have snapped your neck by now!”

The trapped youth redoubled his efforts, but was stopped short as Tula wrapped her left arm under his stomach and, still holding his neck, got to her feet. Without leverage to land a proper blow, Reld wailed uselessly on the tough orc’s ribs and thighs. Ignoring his futile blows, Tula straightened herself, heaving Reld upwards, such that his legs kicked helplessly in the air, and then pushed forwards, dropping the boy onto the ground once more.

With his opponent pinning him, chest down, against the beach, Reld flailed and struggled. Tula scrambled around, her tits mashed against the boy’s back, until she was supine along Reld’s body, her ankles hooked over his calves, her arm still locked about his neck. When she moved her other arm up to bind the boy in a full nelson, he managed to flip himself over, only to find himself helpless in her grip, despite being on top of his opponent.

“What did you learn?” said Tula once Reld ceased his struggling. “Why did I beat you?”

“You’re stronger than me,” muttered the youth.

Tula squeezed her arm against Reld’s neck. “I am, but what matters is how that strength is used. Think!”

“You used my own movements against me…” conceded Reld. “I never got a chance to hold the upper hand.”

“Yes. In a fight you must take and hold the initiative,” agreed Tula, releasing her hold on Reld and letting him stand. “What else?”

“You react faster than me.”

“Now you have it,” said the orc, standing up and facing the young man. She grinned and stepped closer to him. “It is not that I was faster than you, but by positioning yourself correctly, especially your feet, you are better able to react to a threat.”

“But how do you overcome someone who is prepared like you were?” said Reld.

“You keep one eye on their feet,” said Tula. “This is the first important thing you must learn - watch your opponent’s legs. Through them, you may judge distance, you can predict their attacks and you can see where their weakness lies. It is too easy to get distracted by what your enemy does with their arms and hands when their true intent is shown by their hips and legs.”

“Show me,” said the boy.

“Very well. When I first came at you, my left foot was forward, even though I was punching with my left hand. This should tell you that my punch will not have as much force behind it as I could have applied - it was a feint. You can and should still block it, but you used both hands when one would have done, leaving yourself open. Even if you had failed to block my punch with only one hand, it would not have been powerful enough to cause significant injury,” explained the greenskin, reenacting their fight in slow motion.

Reld tried sweeping aside Tula’s punch with his right hand and realised he could still act with his unused left hand. He saw that she had placed her left foot inline with his right and noticed how her waist shifted as she made to step past him with her right.

“I can see it,” he conceded.

“Good. We will try with proper speed now.”

Before he could even nod, Tula moved. Her left hand flicked out. Reld tried to sweep it away, but he was too slow and her fist collided with his jaw. It stung, but, although he had missed, his right sweep had enabled him to position his arm over Tula’s and he continued the movement almost subconsciously, hooking his arm up and over hers until he locked it against his side. At the same time, he moved his left foot backwards, taking a wide stance that would make her tripping attack ineffective, and seized her right wrist with his left hand.

The pair found themselves locked together. Reld could feel Tula’s large breasts pressing against his chest, her hard nipples and piercing poking into him. Still holding her arms, he looked into the orc’s eyes, grinning.

“Now what?”

“Well, now you could headbutt me, or knee me in the groin with your left leg,” said his instructor, “but it is not the specifics of what attack you should use that matters. What you should be learning is the natural rhythm of combat, how much the balance of yourself and your opponent matters and what clues your foe’s stance can give you as you search for an advantage.”

“Can we try again?” said Reld, eager to test his new awareness.

“No. It is late and we have other things to attend to,” she glanced down meaningfully. Reld’s cock was inflating slowly between her legs.

Reld released his grip on Tula’s limbs and stepped back. The orc gave him a sly grin and walked past the young man. She waded into the lake until the water came up to where her thighs met her buttocks and splashed herself, cleaning off the sand and dirt their wrestling match had covered her with. Feeling strangely confident, Reld followed her into the water, admiring the way the wet skin of the orc’s ass glistened in the lamplight.

Without any fuss, he groped Tula’s ass, spreading her cheeks, and gave his cock a few encouraging tugs. The eager organ did not need much urging and soon throbbed, swollen and stiff with need, in his hand. Tula shifted her stance, parting her legs for the youth, and Reld fed his engorged fuck-meat into her cunt.

There was a clatter of dishes from the shore. Reld glanced over his shoulder to see his neighbour hurriedly avert her gaze. Feeling remarkably unconcerned, Reld turned back to the task at hand and thrust his hips, sinking his bloated rod into Tula’s slick, hot hole. The orc leaned back into him as he began pumping his hips, arching her back and moving an arm up and back so that her hand gripped the back of the fisherman’s head.

Reld slid his hands up to Tula’s waist, holding her steady as he mated with her in the shallows. He knew that it was technically illegal to put on such an indecent display in public, but a quick glance over his shoulder assuaged any worries he had of his neighbour calling for the guards - the woman was kneeling on the shore beside her lamp, a dirty pot held forgotten in her hands, her eyes glued to the lascivious scene. Feeling more bold than he had ever felt before, Reld grinned to himself and leaned forward to bite the graceful sweep of Tula’s neck. Between them, the lake splashed rhythmically as his hips smacked against the orc’s succulent buttcheeks and his balls dragged back and forth through the water.

Tula’s lessons from the previous day were not lost on him, however easy it was to lose himself in the sublime sensation of breeding her cunt, and Reld moved his hands - one up to the orc’s heavy titty, to tease her pierced nipple, the other down to her erect clit. The greenskin’s button was as swollen with lust as her nipples and the boy massaged the large nub with his fingers while he made use of her cunny, finding a comfortable pace for both his hands and his breeding pole.

“Good boy,” growled Tula approvingly as Reld stimulated her sensitive nipples and clit.

They mated with languid, steady strokes for a long time, the water lapping at their joined genitals, the sound of their rutting carrying across the lake to their rapt audience of one riveted fisherwoman. Pleasure built slowly in their bodies until the slapping noise of the water and their skin was joined by their increasingly loud panting and grunting. With his balls aching to pour their seed into Tula’s warm cunt, Reld had to bite his lip to hold back the surging tide of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him.

Thankfully, his steady massage of her engorged clitty brought Tula to blessed release before Reld’s clenched jaw drew blood from his lip. The orc stiffened against him and there was a sound like someone pouring a kettle into a bath. Reld felt a spray of fluid spurt past his fingers and his mate’s fuck-hole clamped down on his shaft with a vengeance. At that signal, his cock seemed to understand its work was done. With a groan of relief, the young man ejaculated. The two spasmed in pleasure together while Reld’s over-stimulated column of meat blasted heavy ropes of sloppy jism into Tula’s hungry, convulsing pussy. In time with his pulsing, heaving member, squirts of female ejaculate sprayed into the water, slowly tapering off as the pair rode out their pleasure.

“It seems my lessons are not wasted,” breathed Tula, pulling herself off Reld’s spent organ.

“I’m not completely useless,” grinned the boy, turning to follow the orc vixen back to the shore and their clothes and dishes.

While they gathered up their things, Reld flashed a cheeky grin at his stunned neighbour. Thanks to the orange glow cast by her lantern, he couldn’t tell if she blushed, but he could see the shameful smile on her face as she hurriedly grabbed her pots and plates and lantern and scurried back up the beach.

Once they returned to the shack, Tula informed Reld she would be heading back to the inn to see if she could earn a few more coins. Feeling better about their arrangement than he had earlier that evening, the youth gave his greenskin housemate a more cheerful goodbye before turning in for the night.

Tula was able to pull in a further few pence that evening and returned to the fisherman’s home feeling tired and well spent. She stripped off and climbed into the bed next to the slumbering man, who sighed sleepily and threw and arm over her as she nestled against him.

Over the next few days, the pair fell into a routine. Reld would wake at dawn and Tula, half asleep, would let him slake his morning desire with a quick fuck, after which he would head down to the docks. The orc would awake closer to midday and spend the afternoon servicing the inn’s patrons. At sunset, Reld would come by the inn after selling his catch, occasionally idly watching while his friend finished up with a final customer, and the two would walk back to the shack for dinner, followed by a training session.

Tula had directed the lad to find a few suitable lengths of wood on one of his lunchtime visits to the far side of the Darksea - a couple of branches the length of a sword and a few the length and thickness of a spearhaft or quarterstaff. After dinner, the greenskin would use their practice weapons to teach the fisherman the skills required to use spear, staff and sword. She wanted to teach him archery as well, but a bow and arrows were beyond their means and so she made do by teaching him how to throw spear and javelin. Once their daily training session was complete, the pair would copulate passionately before Reld went to bed and Tula returned to the inn.

The orc saw the dwarf, Fiona, almost every evening and the pair would often share a drink together while Tula took a break from her duties, with Reld joining them on more than one occasion. Despite the fact that he was a “smelly fisherman”, the friendly dwarven smith got along well with the young man and the three easily fell into the rhythm of friendship, with the dwarf insisting they call her “Fi” instead of “Fiona”.

The last day of every week was market day in Bal’s Post. On that day, the local farmers brought their produce into the city, setting up stalls in the public squares early in the morning. The fisherfolk kept their boats tied to the docks and descended on the square near the city gate to purchase what vegetables and fruit they needed for the coming week. The remainder of the day was spent at rest.

Reld and Tula rose early and joined the crowd heading to market. As they passed the inn, Fiona fell in step beside them, pushing a small handcart and the three bantered amicably while they completed their weekly shopping. By mid-morning, Reld was carrying a bag of rice, Tula had a crate filled with vegetables in her arms and Fiona’s cart was piled with provisions. On their way out of the market square, they stopped at a small stand selling hot honey buns and, at the dwarf’s prompting, took their breakfast back to her forge to eat.

With breakfast complete, they relaxed on the three chairs that Fiona had brought out. The dwarf had an Ambush set - a popular board game - and she and Reld spent the morning teaching Tula how to play. Or, rather, Fiona taught Tula how to play by soundly wiping Reld’s pieces off the board. When the sun reached its daily apex, the orc stood up and bade her friends farewell before heading over to the inn, where Danton had said she could make a tidy profit on market day.

“So, how’s the trainin’ goin’?” said Fiona, knocking Reld’s king over to win their latest match.

Reld rolled his eyes at the dwarf’s casual destruction of his army. “Well enough. I like the spear work, but damned if Tula doesn’t make the short-stick stuff proper hard. She’s too fast, too strong!”

“She’s kept in good shape,” said the smith, her eyes twinkling. “Still, I reckon there’s perks to that.”

Grinning at the blacksmith’s suggestive remark, Reld leaned back and stretched his legs. “You’re not wrong. Still, between pushing my damn boat across the lake and all the training she’s got me doing, I’ll be tough as her in no time.”

“Yeah? She mentioned she works you *ahem* ‘hard’,” said Fiona, packing her Ambush set away. She winked at the youth. “C’mon, let’s go get an ale and see how Tula’s handling the crowd.”

Reld laughed and got up to follow the dwarf over to the inn. The common room was packed with all manner of folk, from farmers taking their ease after the market, to guards between shifts, to fisherfolk spending their week’s hard earned pay, as well as the usual smattering of merchants and mercenaries. Giles, the bard, was banging away on his tambourine, trying to make himself heard over the rowdy crowd. Behind the bar, Danton was doling out mugs of booze while his wife, Victoria, went to and fro out of the kitchen with plates of fried fish in her hands. Tula caught sight of the pair as they entered the tavern and led them over to a recently vacated table near in the corner of the room.

“A pitcher of ale,” requested Fiona, smiling at her friend and taking a seat on one of the two benches that served as seats for the table. Reld sat down next to her on the other bench, leaving the two chairs on the other side of the table empty and giving the pair a clear view of the busy taproom.

While they awaited the orc’s return, Reld scanned the room. There was a small knot of people gathered near the foot of the stairs, and the lad noticed the object of their attention was the blonde wench Jessemyn. An older farmer had her bent over the steps, her dress hiked up to her waist, and was vigorously enjoying her offered pussy to the cheers of his colleagues.

“Looks like fun, eh?” said Fiona, elbowing the lad in his ribs and following his gaze.

“Uh, yeah,” agreed Reld. Both the farmer and the wench seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.

The pair were still watching the debauched display when Tula returned with their ale and mugs. Reld reached for his coin pouch, but Fiona waved him off and produced her own. Their greenskin friend took the dwarf’s money and made to return to the bar when the merchant sitting at a table between Reld and Fiona’s table leaned back in her path and made eye contact with her. The smith and fisherman couldn’t hear what the merchant said, but his intentions became clear quickly when the pair saw him push his chair back and unlace his trousers.

Without any fuss, Tula peeled her shirt over her head, freeing her large, round boobs. Reld felt a hungry stirring beneath his shorts as he watched his orcish friend kneel between the merchant’s spread legs and pull his hardening cock from his pants. The orc wench quickly got to work, sucking the trader’s shaft until it was rigid with arousal and glistening with spit. She then wrapped her heavy tits around the inflated organ and began bucking up and down, methodically titty-fucking the happy patron.

Beside Reld, Fiona took a deep pull on her tankard and rested her hand on the young man’s thigh. The fisherman tore his eyes off the lewd performance Tula was putting on and looked at the dwarf, startled by her contact with his leg.

“I’ll only be a little disappointed if you say no,” said the smith, “but I’ve got an itch that needs scratching, if you’re willing to show me how well Tula’s been training you.”

The lad’s eyes widened. He knew many folk disparaged coupling with the short humanoids, but he was not one of them. He’d always thought Fiona, the only dwarf he knew, to be rather attractive in her own compact, well muscled, forge-toughened way. While not as large as Tula’s jaw-dropping bosom, in proportion to the rest of her tight little body, the dwarven blacksmith was more than amply endowed and her firm, perky butt had frequently caught his attention.

“Tula did say that practice was important,” said Reld, grinning.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” chuckled Fiona.

Seated on the human sized bench, the smith’s feet didn’t touch the ground, but the diminutive woman didn’t let that stop her from scooting her butt along the seat until she was right next to Reld. More than happy to let her take the lead, the young man leaned back against the wall and sighed happily as his dwarven friend unlaced his shorts and slid her hand into them.

“Yep, this’ll do nicely,” announced Fiona as her fingers found Reld’s stiffening erection.

“Glad to be of service,” laughed the fisherman. While the dwarf pulled his cock out of his pants, the youth reached around over her shoulders and slid his hand down under the collar of her linen blouse.

Fiona’s firm, round tit filled his hand nicely, her hard nipple pressing into his palm. As he toyed with the meaty globe, she tugged firmly on his shaft, nursing it to full hardness. Reld had been into the tavern before and knew that wanton displays of carnality were just the way things worked, but he’d never partaken in them before. His lack of funds had kept his visits to a minimum and had precluded any dalliance with the wenches that worked it. Now, however, he was experiencing the lewd environ first hand.

An older, female farmer further down the bench he was sitting on leaned forward to watch while Fiona massaged his swollen tool. The farmer’s movement in his peripheral vision caused the lad to turn his head and he found himself smiling sheepishly at the older woman. His cheeks flushed hotly when the woman returned his smile with a wink.

Apparently satisfied with the state she had worked Reld’s cock to, Fiona released the engorged fuckstick and stood on the bench next to him, hiking up the short leather skirt she was wearing before swinging her leg over Reld’s lap and kneeling over him. With her back to him, Reld was presented with the dwarf’s perky, round, golden brown buttocks. She was wearing a tiny canvas thong and the boy pulled the string that ran down her asscrack to one side to reveal the wrinkled bud of her anus and the moist folds of her pussy-lips.

“If you’re done starin’, feel free to stuff that chunk o’ meat inside,” chuckled Fiona, looking over her shoulder and grinning while she braced herself against the table.

With one hand gripping her firm dwarven asscheek and holding her thong out of the way, Reld used his other hand to push his tumescent cum-hose into Fiona’s ready and waiting fuck-hole. The petals of her cunt parted to accept his offering, her wet folds sliding over the shiny, tight skin of his swollen glans. Once the mushroom head of his phallus was ensconced inside her hot tunnel, Fiona took over and began to rock back and forth on her heels while she squatted over Reld’s lap. Slowly but surely, more and more of the boy’s cock was swallowed up by Fiona’s quim only to reappear, shining with juices, a moment later when she rocked forwards.

A brief moment of wonder traipsed through Reld’s mind as he watched the smith’s muscled haunches bounce on his dick - the dwarf was only just over four foot tall; surely his penis was too large? - but the small woman’s cunny had a ravenous appetite. With small, panting moans, she fucked herself energetically on the lad’s meat, her cock-hole gripping his veiny length extraordinarily tightly, but her movements were slick and smooth thanks to the salubrious lubrication her freely flowing cunt-juice provided.

Reld leaned back and marvelled at the sight of the tiny smith’s ass, her tanned (but for the pale tan-lines that formed an arousing outline of her thong), golden skin shining with sweat and her pert, well defined glutes flexing and clenching. Somehow, despite her eager humping, the dwarf found the opportunity to pick up her mug of ale and she drank deeply as she bounced. With a happy smile, Reld followed suit and leaned forward, reaching past the woman’s heaving body to retrieve his own tankard. After a healthy gulp of the refreshing brew, the fisherman remained seated upright behind Fiona’s back and slid his hands up the flexing muscles of her sides, under her shirt and up to her quivering boobs. The couple remained in that position, Reld’s hands groping Fiona’s titties while she bucked up and down on his shaft, until they were interrupted by Tula’s return.

“Do you need anything?” inquired the orc. She was still topless and was using a rag to casually wipe a healthy splattering of slimy jism from her glorious tits and cock-devouring cleavage.

“Thanks -uh- but -uh- I’m -uh- good,” panted Fiona, flashing her friend a determined smile and maintaining her purposeful rhythm. Reld could only give Tula a hapless grin.

“Very well,” said the orc, turning to leave. “Do not do all the work, Fi,” she advised the dwarf before departing. “Make sure the boy earns his pleasure.”

With the dwarf’s raucous laughter rising above the general hubbub of the tavern, Tula resumed her rounds of the room, leaving her two friends to their energetic rutting.