Madness. Chaos. Cold and wet, the sight of the moon against the night
sky, viewed through the close-set branches of oak and ash and thorne
grown wild and gnarled overhead. The feeling of running, full-tilt,
through the woods, branches whipping against his muscled legs and
naked loins. An erection so intense that it hurts, it aches. The urge
to mate, driving him on, furiously seeking to find the source of the
huuuuurn mating call of the stag-kind of these woods.
With a gasp and a sob, Ashlan awoke, tumbling himself out of bed.
For a few heartbeats, Ashlan wept, wrapped in his blankets on the
ground, his senses gradually growing more accustomed to the dark, dry
warmth of his room, limned in the dark red light shed by the dying
embers in his hearth. Slowly, he peeled the blankets away from his
body. They stuck slightly to his flesh, sticky with semen.
He sighed and gingerly touched the spot on his head where he'd struck
the hard floor in his fall. For another few heartbeats, he kept his
eyes closed as his senses returned to normal, the experience of
running rampant in the woods slowly fading from his mind -- fading more
slowly than any dream should. For a fifteen year old boy who had a
hard time remembering his dreams, it was terrifying that nighttime
visions should force their way into his senses that way. Indeed,
sometimes, if he started daydreaming during his lessons, those same
impulses flooded his brain. They were becoming stronger and harder to
He stood, tossing his blankets into the corner and threw on his robe.
He stretched and dried his eyes. His uncle had taken interest in his
dreams, even going so far as to consult a seer (who'd proven to be
nothing of the sort). His uncle had made him promise to tell him when
those dreams happened, so he straightened his robes and ran his
fingers through the shaggy mop of chestnut colored hair that was his
legacy from his mother, gods rest her soul.
He silently padded down the long corridor that separated the guest
wing of his uncle's manor from the master wing, where his uncle slept.
He strode past the lavish furnishings that were considered the due of
a merchant-prince such as his uncle Artemi Bayan, a merchant who got
his start in lumber and slaves. Ashlan had lived with his uncle Artemi
since he was a small boy, brought here after the death of his mother
and raised by a variety of tutors, nannies and even his bachelor uncle
when the influential man could spare the time. Uncle Artemi was an
upstanding, important man in the Barian League, looked up to and the
friend of many important nobles.
Ashlan stopped at the massive oak doors that opened into this uncle's
suite. He knocked once, then twice. He thought his uncle must be
sleeping deeply, so he pressed his ear to the door, listening for the
big man's distinctive snore -- and heard ... something else. It sounded
like the sounds of quiet violence: snarls and choking, the sound of
grappling and perhaps even sobbing. Quietly, he opened the door to his
uncle's room to make sure that everything was all right.
His uncle lay face down on his massive bed, his bearded face obscured
by the rich down comforters that lay thickly on the feather bed. Above
him, a massively muscled orc, his thick neck bound in the leather and
brass collars of his uncle's slave pens, drove a thick cock into his
uncle's ass, battering his sharp hip-bones against the rounded orbs of
Artemi's bruised asscheeks. The thick cock looked more like a cudgel
than the sexual equipment of a man. Drool trickled around the fierce
tusks and down the thick lips of the orc's face, dropping in viscous
threads onto his uncle's back as the orc used one meaty hand to hold
his uncle's face down on the bed and the other to grip his hips.
The orc's grip was strong and when he leaned forward to shove his fat
cock deep into his uncle's bowels, Artemi whimpered. Ashlan watched,
fascinated as the orc's face, a mask of cruelty and revenge for the
humiliation being a slave meant to one of the orcish folk, contorted
and he bared his tusks. His hips began hammering faster at his uncle's
rear, slamming his hard meat deep into the depths of his uncle's ass.
Uncle Artemi groaned again, and looked as though he were in pain,
being held down by the orc's firm grip. He moved and thrashed as the
orc's assault sped up and the orc shoved his weight forward, rising up
on his toes so that he buried the human beneath his bulk. This
position also gave him great leverage to continue pummeling the ass of
Ashlan watched for a few moments. Then, the orc looked up suddenly and
noticed him. His tusked mouth broke into a grin.
Ashlan gasped. His uncle's head shot up and the orc fell back against
the headboard, his meaty cock pulling free from Artemi's hole with a
wet sound. Ashlan shrieked, turned on his heel and fled into the
darkness of the corridor outside.
"Guards! Guards!" he cried, running towards the barracks.
Two armed men in his uncle's livery came around the corridor, drawing
their weapons as they asked him what was wrong. Fearful tears
streaming down his face, he pointed them at the now-partially open
door to his uncle's chambers. The men quickly rushed into the room.
Ashlan stood, fearful, listening for sounds of violence.
After a short time, he crept closer, hearing voices -- including his
uncle's voice raised in anger. He peered in and saw the orc slave,
kneeling at the foot of Artemi's bed while his uncle pulled on a robe,
upbraiding the soldiers, who looked at the ground with something like
shame mixed with disgust. The orc looked at the boy and chuckled,
winking at the lad.
Uncle Artemi noticed and whirled on the boy, his face -- normally so
handsome and strong -- red with rage.
"Get out of my sight. Go to your room! Now!"
Ashlan turned and fled, confused and afraid.