Truth Be Told

Truth Be Told
[elf, orcs, exhibitionism, teasing, stripping, masturbation]

My people have warred with the orcs longer than any of us can remember. They are brutish creatures, broad and strong, and have plagued our woods with the seasonal infestation of their raids. I was young, by the reckoning of my kin, when I first took up the bow and blade to defend our home. We are many of us young, for the elves are ever few and the enemy too numerous to count.
Until that day, I had only ever seen them from a distance; ragged lines of prisoners doomed to public scorn and slavery. How strange it seemed to me that, despite the horrors we have suffered at their hands and spears and axes, that we are yet soft hearted enough to spare those that surrender. I am told they eat their prisoners, but only after committing unspeakable acts upon them.
In my first battle I let fly but three shafts, one missing, but the other two finding my mark. The honest truth is I hardly remember the act; a blur of noisy war horns and death cries and then it ends. I stand alone, after, looking down at the orc I have killed. Rarely do the dead do justice to the living, and this corpse at my feet was no exception. Though I can almost see the berserk fury of his bloodlust as he charged headlong into my arrow, now he lies still and pathetic. Truth be told, their reek is hardly as horrid as our tales suggest. Still, I felt no inclination to retrieve my painstakingly crafted tools from his hide.

Only hours later, as the sun drifted to sleep behind the distant tree-topped hills, did I learn we were in possession of captives. A friend of a friend pointed out a tent set apart from the camp and I felt myself curiously intrigued by its contents. Orcs, I was told, knelt bound to stakes inside. As quickly as I politely could, I separated myself from the circle of my celebrating comrades and slipped out to get a closer look at the dour tent.
Surprisingly, the stationed guard merely nodded at my approach. I think, perhaps, he knew something of my curiosity, or maybe he assumed I had something cruel planned for the marauders. Rumors of such abound in war, but that was the first inkling I had of the truth of it.
But it was curiosity that brought me that night, nothing more. Orcs seen afar were hardly the monsters I had battled and again were of no seeming relation to the corpse still bearing my shafts in its chest. I had to see them alive, up close, and sullen in their defeat.
Would they howl at the sight of me? Curse my name and kind? Attempt to tear free of their binds to have at my throat?

It was just as I was lifting the flap and passing inside did this last thought occur to me, but by then it was too late. I was inside, and they were with me.
I remember the eight of them perfectly. Each was kneeling, arms bound in chains behind them and locked in place at the neck and ankle. They had been stripped, an ever so necessary precaution against concealed weapons. Swaths of paint, reds and whites and blacks, were present in a splattering collage across their faces and chests. Some were hairy and others clean shaved. A few were sporting recently dried wounds. Most had wicked scars, with one bearing so many it seemed positively gratuitous. It was this one that spoke, asking me if I had come for a gawk and spitting at my foot.
The glob of phlegm struck the toe of my moccasin and I unconsciously darted it back.
"Or are you just here for a hard fuck?" he said mockingly, staring me dead in the eye before laughing loudly, but without humor.

What happened next astounds me even to this day. I know not if the wine I shared with my fellows left me weaker willed than I should have been, or if the damp musk of their sweat and blood was clouding my mind, or if the dead we buried left me bitter and petty and in need of childish revenge, but I did not leave.
I freed my foot from the dirtied moccasin, planting my bare toes between the scarred-one's legs and scant inches from his exposed phallus. I like to think the smile I gave him was cruel, or cold. I have no way to know, but he stopped talking. He stared. They all stared. Sixteen little lost black eyes followed my hands and they rose to my tunic and my fingers went to work unlacing me.
With a casual shrug and let the cloth slide down my chest where it stopped just shy of revealing what most of them were now gulping to see. I leaned in, slowly, and planted a delicate kiss on the orc's mangled brow. He was far too enamored with the sight before his eyes alone to make a move, yet he drifted closer as I drifted back, licking my lips and tasting the wet saltiness there found.
My upward movement shifted my tunic again and now my bosom was bare before a host of wonton eyes. I swear the way they washed over my pale skin was palpable, like standing naked to the waist in a light summer rain. In spite of the heat of the night and the tension in the room, a cold thrill sent my flesh tingling.
Placing the heel of my bare foot upon the toe of my remaining moccasin, I drew out my other and brought it inching smoothly forward to touch, just barely, my toe against the warm, surprisingly soft skin of his lower abs.
My hands slid across my body with their own wills, clutching at my breasts and tweaking the rigid nubs at their peaks. The sound of nervous gulps and rapid breathing spurned me on even further. Almost without realizing it I found myself carefully kneading the meat of this monstrous creature's rapidly growing erection until it rose to its full height.

The look in the scarred-one's eyes was so closely mirrored to the fury of the orc I slew that I all but recoiled in fear. So intense was his desire, his need to take me that his hips were rocking forward as much as his tight restraints would allow. Oh, but the rush of power welling in my heart eclipsed it tenfold.
I balled my foot and drilled it hard into his cock, the surprise in his eyes sending my heart racing like never before in all my life. He realized with a glare that he was completely at my mercy.
More intoxicating than any wine or ale was this feeling that warmed me until I was flush with the heat of adrenaline. I owned him, then. Right then and there I could do anything, ANYTHING I wanted, and he could do not but suffer at my whim. My little show had aroused this creature and my denial of his lust had stolen his primitive pride.
I glanced at his fellows and saw they too were awash with want and need, though they had not yet come to realize who was truly in charge.

Quickly I pulled my leg away from the orc and enjoyed with great cruel humour the pleading look that splashed across the orc's scarred face an instant before being replaced by a snarl of anger. I laughed, then, and spun gracefully on the spot. Hand on my hips I pulled off my loose belt with one smooth motion and rocked my hips to free them of the skirt and tunic. They fell to the ground noiselessly and I held my breath in awe at my audacity to kick them away.
My all but bare body was the center of an entire little world inside the tent. I flushed with the last vestigial shreds of my modesty and bent forward.
Paler even the my chest, my ass was inches away from the orc's open-mouthed face as I slipped my fingers under my loincloth and gently, with exaggerated slowness, pulled them down and off.
Hot, sticky breath washed across my bare flesh and sent waves of static thrill up my spine and down to my fingertips where they danced for long seconds.
Stepping out of my last coverings I noticed for the first time how moist and juicy they had become. Yet I was wetter still, I found, when I lifted my fingertips to the slit between my legs. For a moment I was content to simply twirl them around, feeling my own juices drip hotly against my hand.
Then a grunt from behind me jolted me back to reality and I spread my petals wide for my captive audience. I moaned, only half pretending, as I rubbed myself faster and faster. I glanced between my legs and could just make out the prisoner's massive hardon bulging even longer and stronger than before. It may have been my imagination, but I could swear I saw his thick veins throb and pulse and another wave of hot, wet breath crashed into my own hot wetness and I had to bite my tongue to keep from gasping as I was suddenly two fingers and three knuckles deep into my own turgid flesh.
My pants and moans were entirely genuine now and I rubbed myself, pulled in and out of my pussy until the squelching was so loud in my ears it drowned out all else and I was sure the guard would burst in at any second.
But he did not, and instead I found myself drifting ever further back and enjoying myself faster and faster until I started with a silent scream as a wide, burning tongue lathered across my hand and anus in one sloppy go. I clenched in surprise but kept my hand moving as the first lick was followed by another, and yet another and another until I felt my body twist and surge. I burst out with an orgasm more intense than any before in my life and felt myself actually spray juices back into the orc's face as I came.

Near collapsing, I fell forward and almost failed to arrest my fall as the scarred-one coughed and blinked tears from his eyes. I trembled there, on all fours, for several long moments before I could catch my breath and rose again to my feet.
Turning to the orc I saw his wet face in a mask of pleading near-rage. "Now," he both commanded and begged. "Give it to me!"

I smiled and slowly lowered myself to my knees so I was face to face with him. I smiled at him and, after a brief pause, he smiled back.
Then I wiped his face not-quite-clean with my soiled loincloth as he bobbed his head like a child with a speck of dirt on his chin. Only after he tried to bite my hand did I stop, and even then only to drop the sticky mess onto his still throbbing cock, where the pulsing twitches threatened to knock it to the floor.

With measured slowness I slipped back into my tunic and moccasins to the almost musical howls of a scarred orc destined for a lifetime of servitude. His raucous voice was soon joined by seven others and a strode from the tent with my head held high to their cacophony.

The guard woke with a start as I passed and started to demand an explanation, but I placed a finger to his lips in passing and left him idly wondering what horrible tortures I had subjected his charges too.


These days, decades later, my name has become synonymous with torment of orcs amongst my kin. For I have made these visits my custom, and each time is better than the last.