2
Krag didn’t give him time to gather himself.
One moment Erik was sprawled on the stone, chest heaving, the next that massive green hand was fisting the collar of his tunic and yanking.
The fabric tore like wet parchment, seams screaming as they gave way.
Erik gasped, instinctively grabbing at the remnants, but Krag slapped his hands aside with casual brutality.
“None of that, little thief. I want to see what I’ve caught.”
The tunic came away in shreds. Krag tossed it aside, then hooked a finger into the waistband of Erik’s trousers and pulled.
The leather ties snapped. The trousers slid down Erik’s thighs, bunched at his knees, and Krag made an impatient sound before simply ripping them off entirely, leaving Erik in nothing but his thin linen undershorts—and those lasted about three seconds.
Krag’s claws, blunt but powerful, shredded the fabric like it was cobweb.
Erik sat naked on the cold stone, skin prickling, cock already half-hard and exposed. He tried to cover himself with his hands, shame flooding his cheeks, but Krag caught his wrists and forced them to his sides.
“No hiding,” the orc rumbled. “You’re mine now. Every inch of you belongs to my eyes, my hands, my tongue if I want it. Understand?”
Erik swallowed, his throat clicking. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
A beat of silence. Erik’s mind raced. He’d heard the scouts call Krag ‘Chief.’ He’d heard the title ‘the Unbroken.’ But Krag wanted something else, something that acknowledged the new order. Erik’s lips parted, and the word slipped out before he could stop it: “Yes… Master.”
Krag’s tusks gleamed. “Good whore. You learn fast.”
He released Erik’s wrists and straightened, crossing his arms over that massive chest. “Now. Stand up. Let me look at you properly.”
Erik’s legs shook as he pushed himself upright.
The cold of the stone seeped into his bare feet, and the air of the chamber—warm from the braziers but still carrying that damp dungeon chill—raised goosebumps across his arms and thighs.
He stood there, naked, exposed, while Krag circled him like a buyer at a slave auction.
“Hmm.” Krag’s voice was a low rumble. “Soft pink flesh. Not a warrior’s body—no scars, no muscle worth mentioning.
But you’re lean. Wiry.” He stopped behind Erik, and Erik felt the heat of him, the sheer bulk, before a rough hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed.
“Good shoulders for a human. Strong enough to take a pounding without breaking too fast.”
The hand slid down Erik’s back, tracing the knobs of his spine, then gripped his ass cheek with bruising force. Erik yelped, jerking forward, but Krag held him in place.
“And this,” Krag murmured, kneading the flesh, “this is a sweet little ass. Round. Firm. Not much meat on it, but that just means I’ll feel every inch of my cock when I’m inside you.
” He laughed, a dark, wet sound. “I’m going to ruin this ass, little thief.
By the time I’m done, you won’t sit for a week. ”
Erik’s cock, traitor that it was, twitched and leaked a bead of pre-come onto his thigh. Krag noticed. Of course he noticed.
“Look at that. I talk about wrecking your hole and your prick drools.” He released Erik’s ass and stepped around to face him, golden eyes dropping to Erik’s groin. “You’re not even fully hard yet and you’re already leaking. Filthy little creature.”
Erik’s face burned. “I can’t help it.”
“I know you can’t.” Krag’s tone was almost gentle, which made it worse. “That’s what makes it fun. Your body knows what it needs even if your mind is still fighting. Now—” He pointed at the floor in front of his feet. “—kneel.”
Erik knelt. The stone bit into his knees, but he barely felt it.
His eyes were level with Krag’s massive feet—those calloused, yellow-nailed, grime-caked feet he’d noticed earlier.
Up close, he could see the dirt ground into the cracks of the orc’s soles, the dark sweat stains between the toes, the way the thick hide was rough as tree bark.
The smell hit him a second later: a dense, earthy musk, sharp with old sweat, slightly sour, utterly masculine.
It made his nostrils flare and his stomach clench.
“You’re going to start here,” Krag said, tapping one foot on the stone. “I’ve been on my feet all day, hunting down a thieving little rat. They’re dirty. They ache. You’re going to clean them with your tongue, and you’re going to do it like you mean it.”
Erik stared at the feet. His mind screamed no, this is disgusting, you can’t, but his cock was hardening, rising to slap against his belly, and Krag was watching him with those molten eyes, waiting.
“Do I need to repeat myself?” The threat was velvet over steel.
“No, Master.” The title came easier this time. Erik’s voice was hoarse. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the cold stone, and pressed his tongue to the top of Krag’s right foot.
The taste exploded across his tongue—salt, dirt, the metallic tang of old sweat, a bitterness that made his eyes water. The texture was rough, the hide thick and unyielding under his lips. He licked again, a broad stripe from the base of the toes to the ankle, and Krag grunted in approval.
“That’s it. Get it wet. Get it clean.”
Erik worked his tongue between the toes. The skin there was softer, but the taste was stronger—a concentrated musk that coated his mouth and throat. He gagged, a wet, choking sound, and Krag’s hand fisted in his hair, not yanking him away but holding him in place.
“No. You don’t stop. You don’t gag. You lick until I tell you you’re done.”
Erik’s eyes watered. He forced himself to breathe through his nose, to keep licking, lapping at the grime between Krag’s toes, sucking the big toe into his mouth like he’d been told to do earlier—suck each toe while looking up at him.
He hollowed his cheeks, drawing the toe deeper, his tongue swirling around it, and he tilted his head back to meet Krag’s gaze.
The orc was looking down at him with an expression of pure, predatory satisfaction.
“Look at you. A human on his knees, sucking orc toes like a whore at a brothel. And your cock—” Krag’s foot shifted, the toes of his other foot pressing against Erik’s stiff shaft where it jutted from his lap.
“—is harder than iron. You love this. You love being on your knees for me.”
Erik couldn’t answer with his mouth full. He just moaned around the toe, and the vibration made Krag chuckle.
“Finish the other foot. And don’t rush. I want every toe wet, every crevice licked clean.”
Erik obeyed. He moved to the left foot, repeating the process—licking the arch, the heel, sucking each toe individually, lapping at the dirt under the nails until Krag’s feet gleamed with his saliva.
By the time he was done, his jaw ached, his throat was raw, and his cock was leaking a steady stream of pre-come onto the stone between his thighs.
Krag stepped back, examining his feet. “Passable. You’ll get better with practice.” He reached down and unfastened the ties of his loincloth.
The leather fell away.
Erik’s breath stopped.
Krag’s cock hung heavy and half-hard, a serpent of green flesh thicker than Erik’s forearm.
It swayed as the orc shifted his weight, the heavy foreskin draped over a glans the size of a fist, the shaft veined and ridged and terrifyingly long—it hung past Krag’s thighs, the tip nearly level with his knees.
Beneath it, his balls swung in a sack of wrinkled hide, each testicle the size of a large apple, heavy with seed.
The smell that rose from that region was potent—musk, stale piss, the raw animal scent of an unwashed male who had been sweating and rutting and existing without the pretense of human cleanliness.
Erik’s mouth watered even as his stomach turned. He hated himself for it.
“This,” Krag said, wrapping a hand around his shaft and lifting it, presenting it to Erik like a weapon, “is what you’re going to worship next.
You’re not going to suck it—not yet. You haven’t earned that.
You’re going to lick it clean. Every inch.
The shaft, the foreskin, the slit. You’re going to taste my sweat, my piss, my seed, and you’re going to thank me for the privilege. ”
He stepped closer, his cock bobbing inches from Erik’s face. The heat radiating from it was immense, a furnace of blood and lust. Erik could see a bead of moisture gathered at the piss-slit, a pearl of pre-come or urine, he couldn’t tell which.
“Well?” Krag’s voice was a growl. “Get to work, whore.”
Erik leaned in. His tongue touched the underside of the shaft, just below the glans, and the taste flooded him—salt, a hint of ammonia, a deep musky bitterness that was uniquely orc.
The skin was hot and smooth under the foreskin, textured with faint ridges.
He dragged his tongue upward, following a thick vein, and Krag let out a low groan.
“Yeah. Like that.”
Emboldened, Erik licked again, broader this time, lapping at the shaft like it was a treat.
He worked his way down to the base, where the scent was thickest, where the musk of Krag’s groin clung to the skin.
He nuzzled into the thatch of coarse dark hair at the root, inhaling deeply before dragging his tongue back up.
“Don’t forget the foreskin,” Krag ordered. “Get under it. Clean me properly.”
Erik’s fingers trembled as he reached up, gently pulling back the heavy hood of foreskin to reveal the glans in its full, terrifying glory—a deep purple-green, slick with natural oils, the slit yawning slightly.
The smell intensified, sharp and raw, and Erik’s head swam.
He dipped his tongue into the crevice between glans and foreskin, swirling it around the ridge, collecting the smegma and sweat and pre-come that had accumulated there.
The taste was overwhelming, filthy, and his cock throbbed in response.
“Fuck,” Krag breathed, his hips giving a shallow thrust. “You’re a natural cocksucker, aren’t you? Born to lick orc cock. Bet you’ve been dreaming about this your whole miserable life.”
Erik couldn’t deny it. Not anymore. He lapped at the piss-slit, his tongue probing the tiny opening, and Krag’s hand clamped down on the back of his head, holding him there.
“That’s where I piss from. That’s where I’ll piss in your mouth later. You’re going to drink it all, aren’t you? You’re going to swallow every drop and beg for more.”
Erik moaned against the slit, his tongue still working, and Krag laughed.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
For long minutes, Erik worshipped that cock.
He licked every inch of the shaft, from base to tip and back again.
He tongued the heavy balls, sucking one into his mouth and then the other, feeling the weight of them, the heat, the sheer life coiled inside.
He cleaned the underside of the shaft where the skin was softest, traced the thick veins with the point of his tongue, kissed the flared ridge of the glans.
By the time Krag pulled him away, Erik’s face was slick with saliva and pre-come, his lips swollen, his eyes glassy with a hunger he’d never felt before.
“Enough.” Krag’s voice was rough with restrained need. “I said no sucking, and you were starting to get ideas. You’ll choke on this cock soon enough, but not tonight. Tonight, I have other plans.”
He hauled Erik to his feet. The human’s legs were rubber, his body pliant as Krag dragged him across the chamber to a wide stone block—some kind of altar or table, its surface worn smooth by time.
Krag bent him over it without ceremony, pressing Erik’s chest flat against the cold stone, his ass jutting up and out.
“Now,” Krag growled, his massive hands spreading Erik’s cheeks apart, “let’s see what I’m working with.”
Erik felt the hot puff of Krag’s breath against his most intimate place, felt the orc’s thumbs pulling his hole open, and a whimper escaped his lips.
“Tight,” Krag murmured, and Erik could hear the grin in his voice.
“Tight and pink and perfect. I’m going to eat this little hole until you scream, little thief.
And then…” He paused, and Erik felt something wet and hot—a thick glob of spit—land directly on his exposed pucker.
“Then I’m going to start stretching it. By the time I’m done, you’ll be able to take my fist. And after that… ”
Another glob of spit. Krag’s thumb traced the rim, smearing the saliva around, pressing but not yet entering.
“After that, I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me in your throat.”