A Brief Excerpt from Free Use Orc Dungeon
The three Elven guards walked deeper into the Gilded Pits, tossing their heavy silver chest plates onto a nearby chaise longue.
They were beautiful in that fragile, infuriating way all High Elves were—slender, flawless, with long hair and cold eyes.
They moved with the casual arrogance of men walking into a brothel where they held the deed.
One of them, a blonde guard with a sharp jawline, spotted me. His violet eyes widened slightly, taking in my height, my heavy breasts straining against the sheer white silk, and the thick, muscular flare of my hips.
"Look at this," the blonde guard laughed, elbowing his companion. "The Magistrate actually sent us an Orc."
"Filthy beast," the second guard sneered, though his eyes were glued to the dark silhouette of my nipples visible through the wet-look silk. "Still. A hole is a hole. And she’s got a mouth big enough to take us all."
The blonde guard walked up to me. He barely reached my chin, his slender frame dwarfed by my broad, muscular shoulders.
My primal instincts roared. I could snap his delicate neck with one hand.
I could crush his windpipe before he even drew his dagger.
My fists clenched so tight my claws dug crescent moons into my green palms.
But I had sworn an oath. I had sworn to endure.
I unclenched my fists and forced my hands to hang loosely at my sides.
"On your knees, beast," the guard ordered, tapping his knuckles against the heavy gold collar around my throat.
I swallowed my roaring pride, bent my thick legs, and sank to my knees on the rug.
He didn't waste time. He unlaced his trousers and pulled out his cock. It was pale, thin, and average in length—the kind of cock an Orc female would laugh out of a breeding tent. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and shoved himself into my mouth.
I took him, suppressing my cold, stony revulsion through sheer willpower.
I focused my eyes on a tapestry across the room, detaching my mind entirely from my body.
I let him pump his thin hips, his hands pulling clumsily at my hair.
He smelled of sweat and arrogance. It was only a chore, I told myself.
A disgusting, degrading task required to keep myself out of the salt mines so that I could take my bloody revenge.
When he finished, shooting a thin, bitter load against the back of my tongue, I swallowed it without blinking. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, my expression completely blank, devoid of any weakness.
The second guard was much the same. He wanted to use my mouth as well.
He was slightly rougher, calling me a "savage whore" as he thrust into my throat, but the insults lacked weight.
He was weak. His cock was unremarkable. I knelt on the rug, my back perfectly straight, my jaw working rhythmically, feeling nothing but a profound, icy contempt for the fragile men who required an oath-bound prisoner to feel powerful.
I took his seed against the back of my throat, swallowing it with the same indifference I would give to a drink of stale water on a long march.
Three hundred and sixty-four days left, after today, I thought. I can do this. I will feel nothing.
Then, the heavy wooden doors of the cavern swung open again.
The air in the room shifted. A heavy, booming laugh echoed off the stone walls.
"Finally off duty," a deep, grating voice announced.
I looked up. The newcomer wasn't an Elf.
He was a human mercenary, a captain of the auxiliary guard hired by the Citadel to do the heavy, brutal work the Elves deemed beneath them.
He was massive—standing over six-and-a-half feet tall, with a thick, barrel chest, scarred arms, and a thick, dark beard.
He smelled of ale, leather, and cheap combat oil.
He tossed his heavy iron gauntlets onto a table and looked around the room. His dark, bloodshot eyes landed immediately on me, kneeling in the center of the rug in my sheer white silk.
A cruel, hungry grin split his bearded face.
"Well, well," he said, walking toward me with heavy, thudding steps. "An Orc bitch. I’ve fought your kind on the Ash-Plains. Never thought I’d get to fuck one."
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