The Exile’s Path, Chapter 03

The Exile’s Path, Chapter 03 - Mother to a Tribe

Tula was a sticky mess. A battalion of the Duke’s own regiment had returned to the city, accompanying their commander after the successful capture of Sandrest. The strategically important town was now in Tennegenese hands. The Dirnese were sure to try to retake it, so a large contingent of the army had been left to garrison it, but, in the meantime, the Duke had returned to his city in triumph, escorted by a battalion of his battle-hardened veterans. Veterans who were hungry for the pleasures the city could provide.

The orc wench had just spent over an hour entertaining a group of the hardened troopers alongside Jessemyn and the two now headed back to the large single room the innkeeper’s family used as their personal quarters. The blonde wench opened the door. Inside, wooden screens offered scant privacy between the three beds (one double for Victoria and Danton and two single beds for Jess and Giles) that occupied one side of the room. A few dressers sat next to each of the beds and a small table and four chairs occupied a place beside the hearth. On the other side of the fireplace was a large wooden tub, filled with water.

The room was not unoccupied, however. Sitting at the table was Giles, the Lady Emily and her brother Tomas, the Duke’s son and daughter. Tula noticed Giles slide a leather folder off the table, into his lap.

“What are you doing here?” barked Jess’ brother.

Jess offered a simple curtsy to the two nobles at the table, her cheeks flushing red at being caught naked and splattered with cum. Tula, unfamiliar with the human customs but not looking to offend, bowed stiffly, unfazed by her own state of undress.

“We need to clean up,” explained the blonde girl.

“These are our private quarters,” objected the bard. “Why did you bring *it* here?” he added, indicating Tula with a disdainful jerk of his chin.

“It is of no matter,” announced Lady Emily, getting to her feet. “Our business is concluded.”

The two aristocrats walked over two the door, which Tomas held open for his sister. The black haired son of the duke eyed Tula’s naked, jizz glazed body appreciatively as his sister strode out into the hallway.

“Giles, old boy, make sure you bring them along to the little shindig as well, won’t you?” said the young noble. Without waiting for the bard to reply, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Bah, you almost ruined everything!” spat Giles once the door was closed.

“What?” said Jess, dropping her dress beside the bath. “What’s this ‘shindig’ Lord Tomas was talking about?”

While his sister stepped into the tub, Giles stood up and slid the leather bound folio he had into his tunic. The boy was trying to be surreptitious, but Tula easily noticed the clumsy maneuver.

“There’s a victory celebration happening at the castle, this market day,” said Giles proudly. “I arranged to be present.”

Standing in the tub, Jess began cleaning herself. “Oh, neat!” she chirped. “We get to entertain nobles!”

“Yes, I shall be performing and you will whore about, I suppose,” said the callow boy.

“Sounds like fun!” said Jess, turning to smile at Tula. “Good pay too!”

“I-” began Tula.

“I don’t think we need to bring the orc,” huffed Giles. “This will be a civilised affair.”

“Oh, don’t be such an ass,” chided Jessemyn. “Besides, Lord Tomas said both of us should come too.”

“Fine, she can come,” sighed Giles. He rolled his eyes at his sister. “By the way, you still have cum on your ass,” he added before walking over to what Tula presumed was his bed and dresser, behind one of the screens.

“C’mon Tula,” said Jessemyn, “there’s room in here for both of us - I’ll clean your back if you clean mine.”

Downstairs, Reld waited for his greenskin friend. He watched as the smith, Fiona, turned away from the bar, a pitcher of ale and three tankards in her hands. The diminutive woman sauntered through the crowded taproom over to where the fisherman sat.

“Dan says she should be down soon,” said the dwarf as she plonked the pitcher and mugs upon the table and climbed up onto the bench beside Reld.

Sure enough, the pair had only just taken their first sips of the cool amber brew when Tula came down the steps from the second floor of the inn. Reld grinned appreciatively at the older woman as she walked over to them. The orc woman was wearing the skimpy modified tunic and shorts he had loaned her and filled out the tiny outfit scandalously.

Fiona slid a full tankard over to Tula after the orc had deposited the bundle she had been carrying on the table and had taken a seat. With a thirsty smile and a nod of thanks, the greenskin hefted the offered mug and drank deeply.

“Them soldiers keepin’ you busy, I bet,” said the dwarf as a group of inebriated troopers stumbled past the trio’s table and out the door. One of the group gave a cheery nod to Tula as he reeled past.

“Indeed,” replied Tula after returning the veteran’s acknowledgement. “They are certainly eager.”

The three bantered and laughed their way through their drinks as the evening progressed. Tula had elected to take what remained of the evening off - Fiona had mentioned that the weapons she had been working on for the wench and the fisherman were complete and Reld and Tula planned on going back to the smith’s home to collect their order. All three were happy to waste some time with another pitcher before before leaving the inn, however, and by the time they made for the door, all three were feeling quite jovial - Reld even more so than his companions, thanks to the dwarf’s and orc’s hardy constitutions.

Over the past month, Tula had been training the young man in the ways of the warrior - more specifically, the way of an orc warrior. Along with how to wield blade and spear, the former chief’s training had included an element of orc tribal culture; for an orc, warfare and tribal culture were intertwined. For the human lad, the experience had been a revelation. The confidence instilled by Tula’s combat lessons carried over into an increased assertiveness in all aspects of his life. Reld had found himself more willing to push for more coin for his catch at the end of a day fishing. He had brashly and aggressively (and successfully) rebuffed an older fisherman’s attempt to encroach on his fishing claim. He had also found himself much more assertive when it came to his carnal desires.

Tula and Fiona were perfectly frank when it came to their needs. In the physical way that orcs had, when Tula required the use of Reld’s cock, she would simply grab the lad and put his tool to use. The dwarf was only slightly more circumspect - happy to announce she was in need of a proper fucking, a service that Reld was almost always willing to provide. The converse was also true - Tula expected the lad to take her when he needed and Fiona was a ready and willing partner whenever he found himself in her company with an itch to scratch.

“It’s no dwarven brew,” pronounced Fiona, walking on Tula’s right side. “You really gotta try some of the dwarven stuff.”

“It is not strong enough, but it tastes good,” replied the orc. “We made ‘torb’, back in the village, by fermenting glaki roots. It is much more sour, but it is also much stronger.”

As he listened to his two friends drunkenly argue about the merits of human, dwarvish and orcish alcohol, Reld reached down to squeeze Tula’s ample buttocks. The orc paid no heed to the human lad’s amorous attention, letting him manhandle her ass while the trio ambled from the inn to the dwarf’s house. Even after he slipped his hand under the waistband of her shorts and sank his fingers into the firm flesh of her buttcheeks, the orc simply looped a muscled arm up over the boy’s shoulder and walked in sync with him, happy to grant him easy access to her bouncing, cushiony assets.

Despite the short distance between the inn and their destination, by the time Fiona, Tula and Reld reached the smith’s home, the youth could feel his cock throbbing with need beneath his shorts as it slowly inflated. The short time spent drunkenly exploring Tula’s ass had left him hungry for her body and he was looking forward to satiating his rising lust, but the salacious thought was momentarily pushed to the back of his mind after Fiona opened the door to her home and he saw what was lying on the table in the centre of the single-room abode.

Reld had been inside dwarf’s house a few times on social calls over the past few weeks and had always found her well-furnished home fascinating and opulent compared to the much more homely decor of his own shack. She had a large bearskin rug upon the floor by the hearth, a selection of ornate, well made axes, swords and various other weapons decorating her walls and a few large, sturdy and ornate chests for her other possessions as well as a couple of well-crafted tables, comfortable chairs and the most luxurious bed the fisherman had ever been in. On previous visits, Reld had happily gawked at the beautiful surroundings and drooled over the fine examples of weaponsmithing that hung on the walls, but today his eyes immediately fixed upon the two swords lying on the table.

The fisherman’s blade was a standard arming sword with a tapered blade and a full-length gutter. Typical to the region, the weapon was a standard sidearm for common troopers and nobility alike. Smiling at the lad’s eager expression, Fiona stood aside to let him past her. Grinning foolishly, Reld practically skipped over to the table and picked up the sword. He hefted it in his hand. It felt comfortable. He was no expert smith nor warrior, but could tell that Fiona had made him an excellent blade, despite the lack of ornamentation that tended to adorn such fine works.

“It’s fantastic!” announced the boy cheerfully, spinning on his heel to beam at the smith.

“‘Course it is,” grinned Fiona, watching Reld give the weapon a few experimental swings. “I made it. Pretty conventional design for a sword, but for good reason; you’ll find an arming sword like that is handy for combatin’ armour - that tapered point will go through chainmail pretty well and the blade is strengthened by the gutter, making it good on the thrust.”

While Fiona introduced the youth to his sword, Tula stepped over to the table to have a look at the other blade lying upon it.

The blade the dwarf had forged for the orc was something else entirely. Fiona called it a large falchion. Reld called it a fucking huge cleaver. Tula had just called it a sword. Lying on the table was a large, broad-bladed chopping weapon, smithed to Tula’s specifications. The single-edged, gutterless weapon was as long as an arming sword, but had a significantly broader blade that widened towards the clipped point. Reld watched as Tula hefted the massive weapon. While he couldn’t imagine wielding a heavy blade like the cleaver, in Tula’s hands he could all too easily imagine it lopping off limbs and heads with impunity. He looked at the weapon in his own hands and then back at the sword Tula carried and marveled at the difference between the two blades.

“That’s a real chopper, there,” said the smith, watching as Tula gave the heavy blade a few test swings. “Make a right mess of anything that’s not covered in steel, that will. I’d have ordinarily made the blade thinner on the cross-section to save weight, but you said to keep it fairly thick. I guess orcs are used to swingin’ heavy chunks of steel around.”

“Still,” the dwarf continued, “‘cos it’s thicker, it could probably shear through chain, if it’s swung hard enough.”

“So what do you do if you fight a knight in plate armour?” asked Reld.

“Run?” chuckled the dwarf. “Only half jokin’. What you’d want to do is use a spear and shield, really, or get in real close and stick a dagger up under their armpit. I thought Tula was teachin’ you.”

“She is, but… I dunno… all the heroic tales are always about swords…”

“He is always on about swords,” grunted Tula. “I try to teach him that the spear is the true killer on the battlefield, but he holds on to his silly ideas like a tchupik with a nut.”

Fiona grinned. “A sword’s a fine back-up weapon, unless it’s one of those longswords they use up north, or those zweihanders the minos use - those you can swing in two hands and pry open an armoured foe with. The spear’s the king of the battlefield, though, lad. You got reach, you got thrusting power, you can trip your enemy with it, you can plant it to stop a charge and you can throw it in a pinch. Don’t let the stories fool you - if I were a bettin’ girl, I’d put my money on a bloke with a spear over one with a sword any day, all else being equal.”

The dwarf beckoned the boy back over to the table as she spoke, upon which was arrayed a number of spearheads. Two were broad, leaf-bladed in style, with a crossbar situated below the blade, on the socket mount, to prevent over penetration. While it was possible to throw almost any type of spear, this style of spearhead was designed for use on a heavy haft, for melee combat.  There were also four narrower points, with thicker cross-sections, designed to be mounted on lighter shafts for use as javelins.

“I’m glad you like the sword, lad, but these here are the real tools of a soldier,” explained the dwarf. “One spear and two javelins apiece. I was going to stop around the woodsman’s tomorrow at the market to get the hafts for them.”

“Hm,” grunted Tula, examining the spear points. “These are fine work. I shall not be able to collect them tomorrow with Reld, however. There is some sort of celebration occuring at the castle and I have been hired as entertainment.”

“Oh?” said the dwarf, raising her eyebrows. “Hobnobbing with the nobles, eh?”

“No, I shall be servicing them,” replied the orc.

“I know Tula… it was just an expression…” sighed Fiona. “Bah, nevermind.”

Tula shrugged and continued, “Jessemyn has loaned me one of her mother’s old dresses.” The greenskin nodded towards the bundle she had carried from the inn. “It seems silly - why must I wear such frippery only to remove it to fuck?”

“I’m sure you’ll look lovely,” chuckled the dwarf. “C’mon, let’s see it!”

“Yeah, try it on,” encouraged Reld, placing his sword back on the table and turning towards Tula.

The muscled orc rolled her eyes. “Very well. It belonged to Victoria, so it is a little tight.”

It was more than a little tight.

Reld watched as his green skinned friend peeled off her shorts and tank top. Her heavy, ripe tits bounced and then jiggled gently as she pulled the shirt off over her head. Her large, dark green nipples were hard and protruded proudly from her magnificent globes of flesh. While the lad’s attention was fixed to the vision of Tula removing her shorts, Fiona went over to a small sideboard and retrieved three stone tumblers and a bottle of amber liquid.

“Here,” she said, nudging the distracted youth in the hip and handing him a full tumbler.

Roused from his stupor, the lad looked down to take the cup from his small friend. He could not miss the knowing smile and cheeky wink Fiona flashed him as he took the offered drink.

“Hey, can you blame me?” he grinned.

“I guess not,” chuckled the dwarf. “If I had a set of titties like that, I could sell swords made of wood and no-one would notice.”

“I dunno, Fi, I seem to recall your boobs being rather nice,” said Reld, trying to be suave, “but I’d need to have another look to be sure.”

He leaned back against the table edge and took a sip of the liquor the smith had given him, levelling a cool, appraising look at the small, muscular woman. His attempt at being smooth was ruined by the coughing fit the potent potable elicited.

“Serves you right for being a cheeky little shit,” chortled Fiona.

Reld collapsed into a nearby chair, depositing his cup on the table as he struggled to regain his composure. “Gods alive, Fi, what is that stuff?!”

“Dwarven whiskey, lad,” said the grinning woman. “Liquid gold.”

While her friends had been exchanging quips, Tula had squeezed herself into the borrowed dress. Ankle length, with a slit that ran scandalously up her left leg, almost to her hip, the dark blue article had a low cut neckline that strained under the pressure the orc’s bountiful bosom exerted upon it. A black cloth under-breast corset hugged her torso and the short sleeves hung off her shoulders.

“I require assistance,” said Tula, interrupting Reld and Fiona’s chatter. “I can not reach the laces at my back.”

Reld looked up. His eyes widened in awe.

“Damn, girl,” said Fiona, her brow raised, “you wear that dress like a succubus.”

The dwarf moved around behind the orc and cinched up the corset.

“It still seems unnecessary,” grunted the greenskin.

“I don’t think so,” said Fiona. “Just look at the effect it’s having on the boy.”

Tula looked over at Reld. The dwarf’s assessment was accurate - the youth’s eyes were locked to her. Fiona moved back to the table to retrieve her drink and waved a hand in front of the fisherman’s face. Reld grinned sheepishly.

“See?” said the smith. “Struck dumb.” She smiled slyly and dropped her hand onto the boy’s lap, seizing his cock through his shorts and giving the hardening organ a squeeze. “Yep, that dress is gonna be a money-maker, girl.”

Tula’s apprehensive expression shifted into a somewhat smug grin. “It does seem to have a certain effect.”

“You look amazing,” mumbled Reld. Tula presented a devilish combination of elegance and raw sexuality in the blue dress and the youth found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her. That Fiona hadn’t stopped gently fondling his swollen phallus through his pants didn’t help his distracted state.

Enjoying the effect her new clothes had induced on her friend, Tula sashayed over to the chair where he sat and leaned over him, presenting her devastating cleavage as she reached past him to retrieve the remaining tumbler of whiskey from the table. Unable to hold back, Reld reached up and ran his hands over the sides of her sublime breasts.

“I suppose it would only be prudent to make sure I can still work while wearing this ridiculous thing,” announced the orc, standing before the dumbstruck lad and downing the contents of the stone tumbler in one swig.

She leaned forward once more, placing the empty cup back on the table, but, instead of straightening up afterwards, she hiked the dress up until it slid above her knee and spread her legs before lowering herself onto Reld’s lap.

“Hmmm, it seems to be flexible enough,” she proclaimed, grinding her cunt against the boy’s bulge. “Remove your shorts,” commanded the sultry greenskin.

Reld complied as quickly as he could, scooching his butt up and shimmying his shorts down to his knees. His eager organ leapt upwards, smacking against Tula’s pussy. Nearby, Fiona sat back in her chair, sipping her whiskey and watching the wanton display with a smile.

The slit along the left side of the dress was high enough that Tula was able to shift the skirt to one side. She reached down and took hold of Reld’s excited member. The hot, veiny skin throbbed hungrily under her fingers. Looking purposefully into the young man’s eyes, she raised herself enough such that his dick stood up straight beneath her and then lowered herself down onto the swollen organ.

Reld groaned in pleasure as his cock was engulfed by the moist warmth of Tula’s cunt. His hands moved up to seize her buttocks, where one glorious asscheek was exposed by the hiked-up dress. With a grunt of approval at the sensation of her fuck-hole being filled with rigid cock-meat, Tula began slowly bucking her hips back and forth, grinding her cunny against the lad’s pelvis.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” exhaled Fiona. She discarded her empty tumbler and spread her legs, letting her leather mini-skirt slide upwards. While her friends got down to the task of a leisurely fuck, she slid her thong to one side, exposing her quim to her exploring fingers.

The sound of his dwarven friend’s exclamation caused Reld to cast a quick glance in her direction. Hands still fastened to Tula’s sumptuous buttcheeks, hips bucking upwards in slow rhythm with her grinding motions as they languidly mated, a month ago the youth would have blushed with embarrassment to have an audience while so indisposed. Now, however, he simply smiled happily as he made eye-contact with the dwarven woman and watched as she masturbated to the display he and Tula were putting on.

Fiona grinned back at him and spread her legs wider, displaying her wet cunt as she gave her clit a few more teasing rubs. Then, still smirking salaciously, she climbed off her chair and stripped off her linen blouse and leather skirt, revealing the black leather thong and bra she wore underneath. Even Tula turned her head to watch as the small woman slowly removed her undergarments and climbed back onto the chair, this time with her back and ass towards her fornicating friends. Her tan-lines stood out in stark contrast to her bronze skin and the pair watched as the dwarf leaned over the back of the chair and reached between her legs to resume her masturbation, clearly enjoying putting herself on display for the two of them.

With a contented sigh, Tula raised herself up off Reld’s shaft. “Go on, boy. I think she requires your services.”

More than happy to oblige, Reld stood up, shucking his own clothing as he stepped over to stand behind the presenting dwarf. With nary a word, he rubbed his engorged glans along Fiona’s dripping cunt-lips, signaling his intent to mate to her.

“Mmm, do it, lad,” directed the muscular smith. “Stick that slab o’ meat in meeeeahhh…”

The diminutive woman’s command trailed off as her pussy-lips parted to accept the youth’s bloated breeding-pole. Reld moved his hands to Fiona’s butt, squeezing the firm, tanned globes and pulling them apart so he could watch as his cock, already slick and glistening with Tula’s cunt-sauce, slid slowly into the tight embrace of his friend’s quim. While the fisherman seated his shaft in Fiona’s juicy hole, Tula removed her borrowed dress and pressed herself against the lad’s back. Moving in sync with his slow, heavy thrusts, the orc wrapped her arms around the young man’s chest, sliding her hands across his pecs and down his abs and mashing her massive tits against the skin of his back.

Their training sessions over the past month had hardened the fisherman’s muscles - thanks to the manual labour of his career, Reld had been in good shape to begin with, but Tula’s practice regime had lent his muscles definition, leaving his abs chiseled and his pecs and biceps well formed. The orc grunted approvingly as she caressed his sculpted musculature.

While Reld steadily pumped his cock into her needy fuck-hole, Fiona hungrily massaged her clitty. The boy’s unhurried, calm pace was sweet torture and the smith panted and gasped as she furiously chased down her pleasure. Perched on the chair as she was, with the lad’s large hands kneading her ass like dough and his tumescent cum-hose stretching her twat exquisitely, the dwarven woman couldn’t hold on for long and soon her head tossed back and her body quivered and clenched as bliss coursed through her.

“Oh yes, -uh- fuck yes -uh!- there it -uh- fucking is!” growled Fiona as she shuddered through her orgasm.

Tula did not let Fiona have the cock a moment longer than was necessary. The moment the smaller woman’s shivers of pleasure had receded, the orc pulled Reld off her. The boy’s cock slid out of the dwarf’s tight hole with a vulgar slurp. Without any ceremony, the greenskin turned the youth around and bent over the table in front of him, presenting her ass and cunny.

Thoroughly enjoying himself, Reld positioned himself behind Tula’s offered haunches. While their combat training had improved his physique and constitution measurably, their daily mating sessions had imbued him with excellent endurance - the orc made sure he could remain hard long enough to service her properly. He had noticed, too, that the sheer quantity of seed he produced had increased significantly as well, no doubt another consequence of Tula’s sexual training. With a pleased grin, Reld gripped the orc’s hefty buttocks, letting his cock bob proudly in front of him, mere inches from her quim.

As he manhandled the older woman’s ass, the youth noticed a glistening glob of cum oozing from her sphincter. Reld knew his friend often satisfied her patrons with her ass and had always wanted to sample it himself, but hadn’t yet taken the chance. Biting his lip in lust, the lad ran his thumbs down the orc’s asscrack, just above her sphincter, and squeezed firmly. Tula’s asshole flexed and another healthy dollop of jism oozed forth. Unable to resist, Reld pumped his hips forward, sliding his cock up the greenskin’s buttcrack and smearing both it and his engorged column of fuckmeat with the wench’s earlier customers’ deposit until both glistened lewdly.

“I’m going to fuck your ass,” said the boy frankly. Tula had taught him that he should take her when and how he wanted and he wanted her ass. Now.

The sensation of the lad’s meaty schlong sliding up and down her crack, greased with the cum of the soldiers she had serviced earlier, set a fire burning within the greenskin woman. Hearing the boy she had been training speak to her in such a manner, demanding the use of her as an orc would, alighted a feeling within Tula that she had not felt since she had been back with her tribe in the Eastern Reaches.

“Yes boy,” she growled, “fuck your chief’s ass!”

Reld didn’t notice the curious turn of phrase Tula had used as she acquiesced to his desire to sodomise her - all he knew was that she was granting him permission. With an almost feral snarl, Reld used one hand to press his mushroom-like cockhead against the wrinkled ring of muscle. While he pushed against her sphincter, Tula grunted and flexed. Slick with semen and well versed in receiving cock, the orc’s asshole readily accepted the young man’s offering and Reld looked on with pleasure as his fat dick was swallowed up by the woman’s welcoming anus.

Tula’s cum-slick asshole gripped Reld’s tool like a buttery vice, sending a constant tremor of sublime bliss up through the boy’s body from his ensconced phallus to tingle across his scalp. Groaning like a stag in rut, his head thrown back and eyes screwed shut in sweet satisfaction, Reld shunted his hips forwards and seated his throbbing erection properly in the divine sheath that was Tula’s butt.

There was a grinding sound from beside the copulating pair as Fiona dragged her chair closer and climbed up on it, leaning on the table and peering over Tula’s asscheek to get a better look at the lewd act. With the lad’s balls resting against the orc’s sloppy cunt and his pelvis smushed against her hefty buttocks there wasn’t much for the inquisitive smith to see until Reld opened his eyes, looked down and slowly pulled back.

“Sheeit!” chuckled Fiona as she watched her friend ease his glistening, veiny organ out of the greenskin’s grasping sphincter. “That’s fucking awesome!”

Once only the ridge of his glans remained lodged in Tula’s rump, Reld paused. He looked over at Fiona, who returned his grin with an eager smile of her own. The giggling dwarf gave him a goofy thumbs-up.

Tula looked over her shoulder at her two chortling friends. “Fiona,” she panted, voice husky with lust, “you are distracting the boy from his task.”

The orc’s breathy but stern pronouncement caused the dwarf woman and human lad to grin cheekily at one another. Nevertheless, Reld returned to the job before him and thrust forwards once more. Soon, man and orc settled in to a regular rhythm, the dark olive skin of Tula’s arse clapping against Reld’s pink skin. Fiona looked on, perched over her orc friend’s asscheek and offering the occassional word of encouragement to her rutting companions.

Sweat beaded on the fornicating friends’ skin and the warm air of the room filled with the musky scent of sex - the nutty odour of the cum the pair were using as lubricant, the salty tang of their sweat and the pungent aroma of the two women’s libidinous secretions mingled to create a heady perfume that only served to further enhance the trio’s lust. The metronome that was Reld’s pistoning hips and Tula’s heavy breathing was hypnotic. The jism coating the lad’s cock frothed with obscene bubbles as they coupled. In a haze of desire, Tula reached between her legs to vigorously abuse her dripping cunny.

When she came, it was with a primal growl of satisfaction. A seething volcano of delight roiled up her spine. Her cunt spasmed and gushed a fountain of liquid pleasure. Her asshole seized hold of Reld’s shaft in a rictus of joy.

Despite the incredible sensation, however, a new peak of bliss was still to be obtained. The deathgrip Tula’s grasping sphincter exerted upon his overstimulated member was the signal that pushed Reld over the top. With a bellow of ferocious satisfaction, the boy grabbed Tula’s hips and slammed his cock home, burying it as far as he could into her greasy hole and commencing the arduous, heavenly task of pumping her bowels full of seed. Each hot jet of viscous cum that lanced into her anal passage sent a fresh stampede of pleasure through Tula’s body. Reld’s balls heaved, mirroring the undulations of his partner’s sweaty back and ass as she unconsciously milked every drop of sperm she could from the lad’s pulsing shaft.

Thoroughly spent and feeling rather light headed from his exertions, Reld slumped forward over Tula’s back, his cock still flexing inside her arse as it deflated.

“Damn, guys,” grinned Fiona, pulling herself up to sit on the table edge and watching her friends disentangle themselves from one another and push themselves to their feet. “You make that look like art.”

“The boy fucks like an orc now,” grunted Tula. She could feel the youth’s fresh, warm deposit trickling from her distended asshole to squish obscenely between her cheeks. “I have trained him well.”

Reld couldn’t manage a response. He sat down heavily in the nearby chair, mouth agape as he sucked in air.

Fiona noticed a white, creamy liquid trickling down Tula’s pendulous breasts from her rock-hard nipples. She indicated the orc’s lactating breasts with a nod of her head. “Uh, is that normal, girl?”

The muscular orc looked down at her bosom and hefted a large tit, squeezing it gently but firmly. A jet of milk squirted from her nipple. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “It is something that happens when pregnant, or to a female when she attains the role of tribal chief,” murmured Tula, moving her other hand to her right breast and massaging a spurt of milk from it. “But I know I am not pregnant.”

“Maybe you trainin’ Reld has set off the same kind of signal that becoming a chief does?” said Fiona, using a finger to wipe a few droplets of the orc’s milk from where it had landed on her own tit.

“I do not know,” said Tula, her brow knitted in confusion. “A tribe of one? I have not heard of such a thing.”

Reld looked up at the mature orc woman. He could not deny the sight of her lactating breasts elicited a strange feeling within him, a combination of both belonging and lust. His recently spent cock throbbed with effort between his legs, struggling to inflate once more. Tula looked down at the lad, noting his almost reverent expression and his gently twitching member. She turned and leaned over him, pushing her milky boob to his face.

“Here, boy, drink,” she directed. “It is healthy and customary for a warrior to drink of his chieftain's milk.”

No thought of refusal crossed Reld’s mind. He simply reached up to cup the orc’s heavy breast and took her nipple into his mouth. The woman’s milk tasted sweet and savory at the same time, like salted caramel. He sucked hungrily on her tit. Between his legs, his cock stiffened with every slurp.

“Well shit, guys,” laughed Fiona, watching Tula position herself above the youth’s erect shaft once more, her succulent titty still pressed to his lips. “If you’re going for another round, I guess you’d better stay the night.”

The next morning, Reld awoke to the smell of frying bacon. The three had shared the dwarf’s large bed, the lad sandwiched happily between the two naked women. Despite having spent the previous evening in a state of energetic fornication, his penis was bloated and rigid with morning lust, nestled between Tula’s buttcheeks as they spooned. Although he had half a mind to simply slide it inside her and make use of her cunt (as she had directed he should do if he had the need, even if she was still asleep), instead, he rolled over to see where Fiona had gone.

The back door to the smith’s house was open, revealing the shaded, outdoor kitchen area tucked behind the small home. The fisherman had been out there before. Protected by a low wall as high as his chest, the rear of the house contained a space for the large, sturdy wagon the dwarf had and a small pen for the two stout dwarven ponies she owned as well as the roofed cooking space that abutted the back wall of the building. Reld watched as Fiona, stark naked, walked past the open door, a few eggs in her hands.

“‘Morning,” he greeted her as he stepped out the back door. The small woman was in the process of cracking the eggs over the skillet that sat on a metal frame upon the fire.

Flecks of bacon fat spat and sizzled, leaping off the pan, some of which splattered against the naked smith, but the tough woman was clearly accustomed to the heat and embers of her forge and was unfazed by a little sizzling oil.

“Hey you,” said Fiona, without looking up from her task. “Seeing as we slept in and missed the honey bun baker, I figured a little home-cooked breakfast wouldn’t go amiss.”

Bacon and eggs was a treat for the fisherman and was usually outside of his budget. “Thanks very much,” chirped the youth, leaning against the table behind the smith and watching the woman cook. “Smells good.”

“Shouldn’t be too long,” said Fiona, pushing the bacon to one side of the pan to make room for the eggs. “Damned if you didn’t run a marathon on my pussy last night, boy. I’m gonna be feelin’ that for the rest of the day.”

“Heh. Sorry Fi,” said Reld, smiling. He looked down at his turgid morning erection and gave it an idle tug as he watched the dwarf cook. “I may have worn out Tula, too,” he added, proudly. “She’s still asleep.”

“No doubt,” agreed Fiona. “That ‘chief’ stuff didn’t seem to turn you off, I noticed.”

Reld slowly pulled his cock, eyes fixed to the sight of Fiona’s bare ass, accented delectably by the tan lines created by her habit of sunbathing in her thong. “Well, I dunno if she’s my chief or what, but I’d follow her through whatever she asked,” he explained. “I feel… different since she moved in with me.”

Fiona flipped a fried egg. “Ha! Not in love, are you?” she said, looking over her shoulder and casting a sly look at the idly masturbating youth. “Not that it’s a bad thing.”

Feeling remarkably unfazed by the dwarf’s casual observation of his languid abuse of his hard cock, Reld continued jerking the rigid column of meat as he replied, “I don’t think it’s love… not in the standard sense, at least.”

“I get you,” said Fiona, turning back to the pan. “A born leader, that one.”

The two continued in comfortable silence for a while, Fiona finishing making breakfast and Reld idly stroking his dick to the vision that was the finely toned body of the blacksmith. Once the eggs were cooked, the smith lifted the frying pan off the fire and brought it over to the table.

“Planning on making a mess of my kitchen too?” said the dwarf, archly eyeing the boy’s cock and the heavy, clear bead of pre-cum hanging from its tip. “Didn’t you make enough of a mess inside last night?”

“You’re right,” grinned Reld. “If only there was something I could do with this damn thing…”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said, trying to hide her grin. She stepped in front of the masturbating boy and shooed his hands away from his rampant erection. “Try to leave me some room for breakfast.”

“I’ll do what I can,” smiled Reld as Fiona leaned into his swollen phallus and took it into her mouth.

The dwarven woman got to work quickly and efficiently, bobbing her head back and forth and slurping hungrily on the youth’s engorged organ. With a beatific smile on his face, Reld grasped the sides of Fiona’s head, feeling her tight braids against his fingers as he gently bounced her head on his cock. The woman’s mouth formed an exquisite seal around his needy member and she serviced him expertly.

As his impending climax drew closer, Tula sleepily walked out of the back door. The orc paid no heed to the vigorous blowjob the dwarf was providing for Reld and nonchalantly walked over to the table, taking a seat next to the preoccupied pair.

“Thank you for making breakfast,” said the orc, depositing an egg and a few strips of bacon upon one of the three wooden plates that were stacked on the table.

“Mmmphno problem,” said Fiona, pulling the girthy slab of meat from her lips. “Go on and start without us,” she continued, stroking the spit-shone dick as she spoke. “The boy’s about done, I reckon.”

The dwarven smith’s assessment proved correct. Upon resuming her expert oral manipulation of his groaning cock, Reld found himself rapidly pushed over the edge. With a happy moan, he gripped Fiona’s head tightly and proceeded to pour a healthy load of warm seed down her throat. The blonde woman swallowed gamely as the fat hunk of meat in her mouth spurted slimy jets of ejaculate into her mouth, continuing to nurse the vulgar organ until it began to soften between her lips.

“Damn it boy,” grumbled Fiona, burping quietly as she removed the deflated shaft from her mouth. “I thought I told you to leave me some room for breakfast.”

The three spent a congenial half hour eating breakfast, chatting and laughing together as they demolished the pan of eggs and bacon. Once the detritus of their morning meal had been tidied up, the three redressed - Fiona and Reld into their common clothes and Tula into the elegant blue dress she had been loaned. The dwarf assisted the orc with her corset and soon the three were ready for the day.

“Well,” said Fiona, “I guess Reld and I are off to see if the woodsman is still in the market. There’s supposed to be a parade to the gate afterwards - maybe we can catch it.”

“Indeed,” agreed Tula. “I must go to the inn. Victoria and Jessemyn will be waiting for me.”

“Swing by tonight, once you’re done,” said the dwarf. “I’ll try and keep the lad occupied until then.”

“You look fantastic,” added Reld, with an appreciative look at his greenskin friend as they parted ways. “Have fun!”

Jessemyn, Voctoria and Giles were indeed waiting for Tula upon her arrival at the inn. Both women looked ravishing - Victoria in a pale green, gauzy gown of the southern style that hinted, tantalizingly, at her luscious curves and Jess in a more direct tight and skimpy short, grey dress that left little to the imagination. Even Giles, although the orc was reluctant to admit it, looked quite dashing in the red doublet and grey hose he wore. The clothes the group sported represented a significant investment, uncommon for ordinary folk to make. As their job was to provide entertainment for the nobility and wealthier citizens of the city, however, it was an investment expected to make substantial returns.

“Finally,” said Giles with an exasperated sigh at Tula’s appearance.

“Am I late?” asked the orc.

“No, no, dear,” replied Victoria. “Just in time. Shall we?”

The three had been provided with passes for the day, granting them access to the city without having to pay the standard tax. The streets were even more crowded than was usual for market day. The road up to the main gate was lined with commoners seeking a glimpse of the duke and his entourage on their route into the city. At the gate itself, a squad of troopers had cleared away the crowd and a few flustered soldiers were checking the passes of the myriad of citizens seeking entrance through the walls.

“You look gorgeous!” whispered Jessemyn as she and Tula waited next to each other in the line of folk waiting to be granted access to the city.

“Thank you,” nodded Tula. “You look very nice as well. You are sure to have many customers.”

The blonde wench giggled at the orc’s pronouncement. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to a noble party. They always tip so well!”

“This is good to know,” replied Tula. “I hope to make substantial coin. How do these events progress, usually?”

The group stepped forward, closer to the guards checking papers.

“Well, we usually put on a show of some sort - last time I was paired up with this handsome elf from one of the city’s brothels. The time before that, though, they almost made me give Giles a blowjob!” explained the girl, her voice indicating that this was a shocking thing. “Giles was going to go along with it too!”

“This was a bad thing?”

“Well, uh, yeah!” said Jess. “He’s my brother! But I guess they didn’t know it at the time.”

“Oh,” said Tula, nodding. “It is different among my tribe. I serviced my brother many times. My father too. We do not have the same issues you humans do with… what do you call it?”

Jessemyn lowered her voice to a whisper, “Incest?”

“Yes. If an orc has needs that require attention, they may seek out any who are willing,” explained Tula. “For the virile and respected of the tribe, there is no end of willing mates.”

“Papers, please,” interrupted the guard as the two women reached the head of the line. Giles and Victoria were waiting on the other side of the open gates.

The pair of wenches handed over their passes and the guard inspected them briefly before waving them through. They rejoined Giles and his mother and followed them through the crowded city streets.

“So you laid with your father and your brother?” whispered Jess, once their progress had resumed.

“Yes,” said Tula. “My sons as well. It was my hope that the son I bore with my father would become chief one day.”

“Oh my!” gasped Jess. “What… what was it like?”

“They were orc warriors. They serviced me well.”

The pretty blonde girl blushed. “That’s so naughty! But… if Giles wasn’t such an ass all the time, I’d consider giving him a tumble - with potions and such, I wouldn’t have to worry about him knocking me up. Gods know I’ve seen how he looks at me.”

“Ha!” snorted Tula. “Maybe if you put the boy in his place and used him for what little he is good for, he would be less of an idiot.”

“Hee!” giggled Jessemyn. “Maybe you’re right - can you imagine the look on his face if I pinned him down and rode him like a pony! I’d wipe that smug look he always sports right off his face.”

“What are you two chirping about?” sneered Giles, turning on his heel after the group rounded the bend in the street that led to the castle. Jess raised an eyebrow archly at her brother’s query.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she murmured, snidely.

“Enough, children,” said Victoria, sternly. “On your best behaviour, now.”

The beautiful innkeeper led her small party up the road to the castle and over the drawbridge. At the gates, two soldiers checked their names against a list of permitted guests and entertainers and directed them to a servant’s entrance on the right side of the courtyard. Through the small door was a large hall; the preparation room for the castle’s food and drink. Servants, chefs and attendants bustled about, readying refreshments and food for the castle’s guests. At the far end of the hall the castle’s head butler was addressing an assembly of what were unmistakably whores and lotharios, dressed finely but provocatively as they were, dispatching groups of the collected entertainers off to various rooms of the castle. The small group moved to join the gathering.

“Ah - Victoria, Jessemyn, Giles and… Tula?” the butler looked over the party, his appraising glance lingering on Tula - clearly the odd one out. “Sammael here shall take you to the green drawing room. You are to entertain any guests who request your services within said room. I suggest a performance at least every hour, whether or not there are guests present.”

“Uh, sir,” said Victoria politely, “we didn’t bring any enhancing potions with us - we were told they would be provided.”

“Indeed,” nodded the butler. “There is a cabinet devoted to such accessories as you will require in each room. Sammael shall show you to it.”

Victoria curtsied in response. The others followed suit - Jess with a graceful curtsy that mirrored her mother’s, Giles with a well executed bow and Tula with a much more clumsy attempt. Then, they were off down a warren of halls and passages, following the steward Sammael. Eventually, the young man showed the foursome into a sublimely decorated drawing room, as big as the inn’s taproom. Furnished in overstuffed leather chairs and couches, all died a rich, dark green, and lined with bookshelves and with deep green drapes covering the windows, the drawing room was the most luxurious space Tula had ever seen.

“The guests will be arriving shortly, after viewing the entrance of the parade and consuming a brief luncheon,” explained the servant. “What toys and potions one may require for… entertainment purposes... are located here,” he indicated a tall wardrobe. “There is a decanter of water, for your use, as well. Should you require sustenance, please retire to the kitchen where a suitable meal will be provided. I shall be just outside the door throughout the evening, although my primary concern will, of course, be attending to the guests’ needs.”

“Thank you, Sammael,” said Victoria.

The attendant gave a smart, short bow and retreated out of the room, leaving the four harbour-folk alone in the finely decorated chamber.

“Well, I expect I shall have do most of the performing,” exclaimed Giles haughtily, unslinging the tambourine he had carried on his belt. “Perhaps a few Firandil ballads to set the mood…”

“Giles, dear,” interrupted Victoria, “I don’t think that’s the kind of performance they are thinking of.”

“What? Who else is going to provide the music? Don’t be stupid, mother.”

At that point, as if the universe was sending the callow youth a message, the door opened and a man and a woman entered - the man carrying a long reed-horn, the woman, a hairstring fiddle. Sammael led the pair over to two stools that had been set up in the corner of the room. The three looked at the young man and his tambourine as the two musicians adjusted their seats.

“Ah, sir, I’m not sure that… instrument… will be necessary - the household has contracted the finest musicians in the land,” coughed Sammael, somehow both politely and dismissively at the same time.

“Of course!” blurted Giles, blushing furiously. “It was… uh… just… in case…”

“Indubitably,” agreed the attendant with an ever-so-subtle sneer, before retreating from the room once again.

The two bards politely looked away and set about tuning their instruments. Victoria walked over to her son, putting her arm over his shoulder. Jessemyn tried to hide her cheeky grin at her brother’s comeuppance by wandering over to the windows and peeking outside. Tula diplomatically chose to join the blonde wench.

“Perhaps you could do a little show with Tula?” murmured Victoria to her son, softly. Tula could only just make out their hushed conversation.

“With that… that orc?!” grumbled the young lothario quietly. “She’s so ugly!”

Tula glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder. Victoria was standing with her back to her and Jess, half concealing Giles from the orc and Jessemyn and completely blocking the lad from the two musicians, who were thoroughly occupied with tuning their instruments and planning their repertoire. The beautiful blonde innkeeper-cum-prostitute was pressed against her son, her arm wrapped around his shoulder. The boy’s eyes were cast downwards - Tula noticed the woman hand placed her hand against the crotch of his hose and was gently rubbing it up and down,

“Come on, darling,” she urged. “I’m sure you can put on a performance for the guests. You’re such a professional, after all.”

From the corner of her eye, Tula watched as Giles raised his hand to his mother’s breast and quietly groped the round mound of titflesh as she stroked his cock through his pants.

“Fine,” he sighed, hand still squeezing his mother’s tit, a pronounced bulge tenting his trousers. “You can tell her we’ll fuck.”

“Good boy,” breathed Victoria, placing a quick kiss on her pouting son’s cheek. Tula quickly turned to look the window as Victoria turned to walk towards her.

The window looked down on the southern reaches of the town. Tula could see a winding procession of infantry and cavalry proceeding up the street from the southern gate. She could just make out the dull roar of the cheering crowd.

“Tula, dear,” came Victoria’s voice. The orc turned to face the pretty blonde older woman. “Do you think you could put on a little show for the guests with Giles?”

“Of course,” nodded Tula.

“Oh thank you,” smiled Victoria. “I know he can be difficult, but we do need to make a good showing. He’ll do his part, I promise.”

“It is no problem,” said the orc, looking past the blonde mother at her son. Giles glared sullenly back at her, still gripping the front of his hose and massaging his dick.

“Great,” sighed Victoria. She raised her voice, “In the meantime, perhaps we should try some of the potions they have provided. I think some goblin ale would probably be a good idea - we’re going to have to be able to perform all evening, after all.”

Jessemyn, who had been listening in on the conversation, perked up at her mother’s words and shot a mischievous grin over to Tula. The two followed Victoria over to the cabinet on the other side of the room, where Giles had already opened the doors and was examining the contents.

Various bottles and flasks lined the uppermost shelves of the cupboard, while a selection of dildos and plugs of a range of sizes filled the lower shelves. There were tubs of herb-infused grease, phials of oil and containers of strange powders. All had labels, like “Powdered Tark-Whey” and “Elixir of Granberry”. Tula had no clue as to the function of most of them, but the sizeable keg labeled “Goblin Ale” on the middle shelf was familiar enough to her. A few tankards sat next to the small barrel.

“Wow!” gasped Jess as she looked over the smorgasbord of debaucherous accessories.

“Jess…” said Victoria, reproachfully, while she poured and handed out flagons of the earthy smelling goblin brew, “just the Goblin Ale for you. I want you staying in control. Giles, go ahead and add a pinch of Tark-Whey to your ale - that should keep you going all night.”

Tula took the tankard Victoria offered her with a nod of thanks. While she wasn’t about to sample any of the more exotic elixirs, she knew the ale would enable her to take any number and size of cock during the coming evening without feeling too sore come the morning. Equipped with their mugs, the group closed the cabinet and returned to the centre of the room, taking advantage of the comfortable seats and couches to relax while they imbibed their beverages.

The fizzy, mushroom beer had an almost immediate effect, suffusing the user with a warm, packed-in-cotton sensation while simultaneously setting their genitals tingling with arousal. On Giles, sitting across from Tula in a luxurious leather armchair, the effect was all the more pronounced. The tent in the boy’s pants pulsed and throbbed, growing to even greater proportions and the youth shifted uncomfortably in his seat until, unable to take the swelling in his nethers any more, he unbuttoned his fly and pulled out his now gargantuan dick.

Although the ridiculous organ was still semi-flaccid, it was of vulgar proportions and getting bigger by the second. The veins running its length pulsed and flexed, pumping hot arousal into the floppy behemoth until it was floppy no-more, rising like a pillar of lust into the air. Tula noticed that all the women’s eyes were drawn to the oversized slab of cock-meat. Jess watched her brother’s bloated shaft with her mouth agape, a hungry expression clearly plastered across her face. Her mother was only slightly more subtle. Tula, herself, felt an uncomfortable heat in her cunny, all thought of her general distaste for the lad swamped by an overwhelming desire to be bred by his monstrous cum-hose.

Through the fog in her head, the orc heard the burble and chatter of distant voices growing louder. The door to the drawing room opened and Sammael stuck his head in to nod to the musicians, indicating the imminent arrival of guests. The band began to play and Tula knew it was time to get to work.