3
Krag’s breath was a furnace against Erik’s most vulnerable flesh.
The orc had him bent over the stone block like a sacrificial offering, chest pressed to the cold rock, ass jutting out, cheeks spread wide by those massive, calloused hands.
Erik’s hole clenched instinctively, a futile attempt to protect itself, and Krag laughed—a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the stone and into Erik’s bones.
“Look at this pretty little pucker,” Krag murmured, his snout so close Erik could feel the heat of each word. “Pink and tight and trembling. You’ve never had anything in here, have you, thief? Not a cock, not a toy, not even your own fingers?”
Erik’s voice came out strangled. “No.”
“A virgin hole.” The words dripped with dark satisfaction. “I’m going to ruin that. I’m going to turn this tight little rosebud into a gaping, dripping wreck. But first…”
He spat. A thick, hot glob of saliva landed directly on Erik’s pucker, and Erik gasped at the obscene wetness of it.
Another glob followed, and another, until his hole was slick and dripping, the spit running down his taint and over his balls.
Krag used his thumbs to smear it around, working the saliva into the wrinkled skin, teasing the rim with feather-light pressure that made Erik’s hips jerk.
“First, I’m going to taste you.”
Krag’s tongue—broad, rough, impossibly hot—dragged from Erik’s balls to his tailbone in one long, slow lick.
Erik cried out, his fingers scrabbling against the stone for purchase.
The sensation was overwhelming, a wet rasp that sent lightning bolts of pleasure straight to his cock.
He was already hard, already leaking, his shaft trapped between his belly and the cold rock, and every movement of Krag’s tongue made him throb.
“Mmm.” Krag’s voice was muffled against his flesh.
“Clean human hole. Sweet. Not like orc cunt—all sweat and musk and days-old fuck. You taste like soap and skin and something else… something scared and horny.” He licked again, circling the rim with the pointed tip of his tongue, and Erik’s legs nearly gave out.
“I’m going to eat this ass until you forget your own name. ”
And he did.
Krag feasted. He didn’t just lick—he devoured.
His tongue speared against Erik’s hole, pressing, demanding entry, and when the tight ring of muscle resisted, he simply pushed harder.
Erik felt himself opening, felt the first inch of that rough, wet organ slide inside him, and the sound that tore from his throat was somewhere between a scream and a sob.
“Ahhh! Fuck—fuck, Krag, your tongue—!”
“Yeah, you like that?” Krag growled against him, pulling back just enough to speak before plunging his tongue back in, deeper this time. “You like having your virgin hole tongue-fucked by an orc? Filthy little whore. I can feel you clenching around me. Your body wants more.”
Erik couldn’t argue. Couldn’t think. His world had narrowed to the wet, obscene sounds of Krag eating his ass—the slurps, the growls, the slick noises of spit and saliva and something deeper.
Krag’s tongue twisted inside him, licking at his inner walls, and Erik’s hips bucked of their own accord, grinding his cock against the stone.
He was humping the altar like an animal, and he didn’t care.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” The words spilled from his lips in a mindless chant. “Deeper, please, oh gods, deeper—”
Krag obliged. His tongue drove in as far as it could reach, and then his lips sealed around Erik’s hole and he sucked, a hard, pulling pressure that made Erik see stars.
The orc’s tusks scraped against the tender skin of his inner thighs, leaving faint red lines, a reminder of the danger lurking behind the pleasure.
One wrong move and those tusks could tear him open.
The thought should have terrified him. Instead, it made his cock leak a fresh stream of pre-come onto the stone.
“You’re grinding on the altar like a bitch in heat,” Krag said, pulling back with a wet pop. His chin was slick with spit, his golden eyes blazing. “Look at you. An hour ago you were a proud thief, and now you’re humping stone while an orc eats your ass. What happened to all that defiance?”
Erik’s face burned, but the shame only fueled his arousal. “Please,” he gasped, pushing his ass back toward Krag’s face. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“Begging already? We’ve barely started.” Krag slapped Erik’s ass—a sharp, stinging blow that echoed in the chamber—and then spread his cheeks even wider. “I’m not done tasting you. But I think you’re ready for more than my tongue.”
He pulled back, and Erik heard him spit again, this time into his own palm. Then two thick fingers—rough, calloused, each one thicker than any human cock Erik had ever seen—pressed against his lips.
“Open up. Get them wet.”
Erik’s mouth opened automatically, and Krag shoved his fingers inside.
They were enormous, filling his mouth completely, pressing down on his tongue, nearly gagging him.
The taste was salt and skin and the faint bitter residue of whatever Krag had touched earlier.
Erik sucked on them desperately, coating them with saliva, and Krag watched him with a hunger that made Erik’s blood run hot.
“Good whore. Get them nice and wet. They’re going in your ass next.”
The words made Erik moan around the fingers. He sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks, letting his tongue slide between them. Krag’s free hand gripped his hip, steadying him, and then the fingers were withdrawn with a slick, obscene sound.
“Now. Let’s see how much that tight little hole can take.”
The first finger pressed against his spit-slicked entrance, and Erik’s whole body tensed. It was so much bigger than a tongue—thick and unyielding, a blunt intrusion that his body wanted to reject. But Krag was patient. He circled the rim, applying steady pressure, letting the muscle slowly yield.
“Relax, little thief. If you fight it, it’ll hurt more. And you don’t want it to hurt, do you?”
“I—I don’t know,” Erik admitted, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what I want.”
“Yes, you do.” Krag’s finger pushed, and the head of it slipped inside. Erik gasped, his back arching, his hole stretching around the intrusion. “You want to be filled. You want to be owned. You want to be so full of orc that you can’t remember what it felt like to be empty. Isn’t that right?”
The finger slid deeper, and Erik felt himself stretching, accommodating the impossible thickness. It burned—a deep, aching burn that radiated through his pelvis—but beneath the burn was something else. A fullness. A pressure against something inside him that made his cock twitch and drool.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, that’s right. I want it. I want it all.”
“That’s my whore.” Krag worked the finger in and out, slow and steady, letting Erik adjust to the invasion.
“You’re so fucking tight. I can barely move.
When I get my cock in here, it’s going to rip you apart.
You know that, don’t you? You’re going to scream and bleed and beg me to stop, and I’m not going to stop.
I’m going to fuck you until you pass out. ”
Erik’s response was a broken moan. The finger was moving faster now, fucking into him with wet, squelching sounds, and his body was starting to crave more. The burn was fading, replaced by a hungry ache, a need for something bigger.
“More,” he gasped. “Please, Krag—Master—more.”
“Greedy little hole.” Krag pulled the finger out, and Erik whimpered at the sudden emptiness. But before he could protest, two fingers were pressing against his entrance, spreading him wider than before. “Let’s see if you can take this.”
The stretch was brutal. Erik screamed—a raw, animal sound that echoed off the stone walls—as Krag’s two fingers forced their way inside him.
They were so thick, so impossibly big, and his body fought against the intrusion even as his mind craved it.
His hole burned, the rim stretched white around the invading digits, and Krag held still, letting him feel every inch of the stretch.
“Fuck, look at that. Your little hole is trying to swallow my fingers whole. You’re going to take my fist one day, thief. I’m going to work my whole hand inside you and watch your belly bulge with it.”
The image sent a bolt of pure, shameful lust through Erik’s body. His cock, still trapped against the stone, pulsed and leaked, and he found himself pushing back against Krag’s hand, trying to take the fingers deeper.
“Yeah, that’s it. Fuck yourself on my fingers. Show me how much you want it.”
Erik did. He rocked his hips back, impaling himself on those thick digits, and Krag began to scissor them open, stretching his hole in ways it had never been stretched before.
The sensation was overwhelming—pain and pleasure tangled together, indistinguishable, a raw, primal feeling that consumed everything else.
Erik’s mind went blank. There was nothing but the stretch, the burn, the fullness, and the deep, guttural sounds of Krag’s approval.
“Please,” Erik begged, the word spilling from his lips like a prayer. “Please, Master, I need more. I need your cock. Please fuck me.”
Krag’s laugh was cruel and delighted. “Oh, you need my cock, do you? You think you’re ready for this?” He pulled his fingers out with a wet squelch, and Erik felt his hole gape, empty and aching. “You’re not ready. You’re still tight as a fist. If I fucked you now, I’d tear you in half.”
“I don’t care!” Erik’s voice was desperate, broken. “I don’t care if it hurts. I need it. Please, Krag, please—”
“No.” The word was final, absolute. Krag grabbed Erik by the hips and flipped him onto his back on the stone block.
The cold rock bit into his shoulders, his spine, but Erik barely felt it.
He was staring up at Krag—the mountain of green muscle, the tusked face, the massive cock jutting out from his groin, fully hard now and terrifying in its proportions.
Pre-come drooled from the slit, a thick, green-tinged fluid that smelled of musk and salt.
“You haven’t earned my cock yet, little thief. But you’ve earned something else.”
Krag wrapped a hand around his own shaft and began to stroke. The sight was hypnotic—that enormous cock, too big for any human hand to fully encircle, sliding through Krag’s fist. The foreskin rolled back and forth over the glans, slick with pre-come, and the sound was wet and obscene.
“I’m going to mark you,” Krag growled, his voice thick with lust. “I’m going to cover your pretty human face with my seed.
I’m going to paint your chest, your cock, your whole fucking body.
And then you’re going to rub it into your skin.
You’re going to marinate in it. You’re going to taste it and swallow it and let it soak into your pores until you smell like me. ”
Erik’s mouth went dry. His cock, untouched, was so hard it hurt, bobbing against his stomach with every ragged breath. He watched Krag’s hand move faster, the massive shaft slick and glistening, the heavy balls drawing up tight against his body.
“Open your mouth, whore.”
Erik opened his mouth. His tongue lolled out, an offering, and Krag groaned.
“Fuck, look at you. So eager for my come. So desperate to be marked.” His strokes became frantic, his hips bucking into his own grip. “Here it comes. Take it. Take all of it.”
The first rope of come hit Erik across the face—a thick, hot lash that splattered over his nose, his cheek, his open mouth.
The taste flooded his tongue: salt and bitterness and something wild, something that tasted like the earth after rain and the sweat of a hundred battles.
More followed, volley after volley, coating his forehead, his lips, his chin.
Krag aimed lower, painting his chest with hot stripes of green-tinged seed, then his stomach, then his aching, untouched cock.
Erik felt the come pooling in the hollow of his throat, dripping down his ribs, sliding into the crease of his groin.
The amount was staggering—impossible—like Krag had been saving it for weeks.
When it was over, Erik lay there, gasping, covered from face to thighs in a thick layer of orc seed. He was drowning in it. The smell was overwhelming, a primal musk that made his head swim and his cock throb.
“Now,” Krag said, stepping back to admire his work. “Rub it in. Use your hands. I want every inch of your skin soaked in my scent. And taste it. Taste it and tell me you love it.”
Erik’s hands, trembling, rose to his face. He scooped a glob of come from his cheek and pushed it into his mouth, sucking his fingers clean. The taste was stronger this time—more bitter, more potent—and his cock jerked in response. He swallowed, and a moan escaped his lips.
“I love it,” he whispered, the words coming from somewhere deep and broken inside him. “I love the taste of your come, Master.”
“Good whore.” Krag’s voice was thick with satisfaction. “Now rub the rest in. Don’t miss a spot.”
Erik obeyed. He massaged the seed into his chest, his stomach, his thighs. He coated his own cock with it, stroking himself once, twice, before Krag’s sharp command stopped him.
“No. You don’t get to come. Not yet. You haven’t earned that either.”
Erik’s hand fell away, trembling. His whole body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release, but he obeyed. He finished rubbing the come into his skin until he was slick and glistening, his flesh tingling with the heat of the orc’s essence.
Krag watched him, arms crossed, golden eyes gleaming with possessive pride. “Now you smell like mine. But there’s one more thing I need to do to mark you properly.”
He stepped forward, his massive frame blocking out the torchlight, and Erik looked up at him with wide, glassy eyes. The orc’s cock was still half-hard, still dripping, and he grasped it in one hand, aiming it at Erik’s face.
“You’ve tasted my come. You’ve licked my sweat. You’ve worshipped my feet. But you haven’t tasted all of me yet.” His voice dropped to a dark, intimate rumble. “Open wide, little thief. It’s time for your real christening.”