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Being an orc’s plaything isn’t so bad. You are fed and bathed. It’s not the best food but you don’t complain. You wear nothing but you don’t complain. Occasionally you are given a scrap of cloth when it’s cold and you are grateful.
And your orc? A beautiful specimen of his species. Azog. Tall pale strong orc. You sit with the wargs and brush their fur. They aren’t on edge around you anymore. They trust you. They protect and keep you company. You run your hands through their soft fur. Azog is away again to answer to his master.
When you are alone like this you think. But you don’t like your thoughts. They remind you of your life before. It’s a sad life. A half dwarf reject who tried so hard. Mocked for her differences and worked twice as hard to prove herself. A skilled fighter who fell in love with a son of Durin.
Thorin… that was his name.
But he never cared for you. How could he? If he cared he wouldn’t have left you like this. To let you sacrifice yourself and never come back to you. You saved him and in return… you were gifted Azog. Left to the mercy of the orcs after saving your kin. You gave so much and got spat on in return.
They never cared. Are they alive? Have they finished their quest? It’s been how many months?
Pah. What does it matter?
Lamenting about them will do you no good. They left you. Never a whiff of them caught since you so willingly saved them from doom. Perhaps you hate them. If they remember you then at the very least you hope they lose sleep over what could have been. No more do you care about stony serious eyes and long black wavy hair….
Azog returned. Breathing heavy and frustrated. He’s headed right to you. A rush of excitement that you come to adore hits you. He’s in top form when he’s frustrated. You stand up. His hand rests on your head as you pull off his cloth. He likes that you don’t have to be told anymore. Your hand grabs his cock and soon your lips wrap around the head.
Still you are so small. Your small lips and small mouth can’t satisfy him for long as hardly any of his length can fit in. It is just a warm up to what you and him really want. Your free hand between your legs. There’s hardly any need to. Seeing him gets you wet. But you have to coat him with spit in order for it to fit comfortably.
The orc growls an order you know well and you stop. He grabs you like you weigh nothing. You help guide his cock. The tip kisses your entrance for a moment before pressing into you. A lewd moan passes your lips. Fuck he fills you up. At first it hurt. The girth and length was hard for you to take. Now it feels apart of you. Still you writhe and jerk from the sensation of being so full.
Words you barely understand pass his lips. You know them as praises. He calls you soft names and tells you what a good job you are doing. He began to move. A shudder rolls throughout you as he massages your insides to the head before filling you in a single thrust.
Each time it turns your bones to jelly. You become weak. Your muscles can only focus on squeezing him when he’s in you for all he’s worth. You grip his hand for dear life as he began to speed up. Your cries echo throughout the settlement as he fucks your brains out. He’s rearranging your insides and by now all of Middle Earth knows of it. It feels so good your eyes fail to work and tears are streaming down the sides of your face.
He flips you over and your legs dangle. They twitch as they sit helplessly in the air. They’re starting to go numb. Despite that you want more. You pray he never stops fucking your brains out.
The slaps of his hips against your ass grew louder as he got rougher. Azog put more power into his thrusts. Each time it’s followed by a squelch from your wetness. Your fluids are trailing down your thighs. The scent is enough to motivate him to do it harder.
His head must be pressing right against your cervix. When he fucks you hard like this it hits deeper to the point if a slight burn. Sometimes you hiccup and choke on air. The idea of his cum depositing so deep inside of you only excited you more. It feels so good to be used like this. He makes such a mess of you and it feels so good.
“Ah! Hah fuck! I’m close!” You groan.
Those are words he understands. Each time it sends him to a frenzy. Harder! Faster! Your body is his perfect hole to ruin and he takes full advantage of every square inch he can fuck. Deeper! Fuck you swear you can taste it. He must be pushing past what you can naturally take!
Your eyes roll back as he ruins you. An orgasm overcomes you and turns you to mush. The orc doesn’t stop. Your body is struggling. It’s caught between overstimulated tension and exhausted need to go limp. Your muscles burn as you are pushed to the brink.
Azog remains steadfast in his stamina. You feel so damn good when you clench up. Your body so pretty shaking from his work. In a way he admires you. The only creature to survive more than one round with him. You take him well. It tastes all the more sweet to know he’s doing this to spite his enemies. Taking one of their own, a rare dwarfish woman no less, and turning her into his mindless servant.
“They don’t appreciate what they had.” He growls at you in a tongue you can’t understand.
It’ll be all the more fun when he catches up with those selfish dwarf men. To show them what he’s done to you. To watch them grow angry at how he’s made their female his. How she betrayed them and is addicted to the superior orc. Should he perish what you bear will be the reminder. He’ll always be apart of you. There’s nothing any of them, Thorin particularly, can do about it. It will haunt like the claws of the dead on his calves.
It will be all too sweet to see that false king turn to sheer rage at your betrayal. Whatever happens to you will be none of Azog’s business. He’ll throw you to Thorin’s feet and relish in the anguish. The only reason you live now is for one simple thing. Dwarves don’t show their love well but he’s sure the crownless king is sweet on you. The horror in Thorin’s eyes when you were taken away was too wonderful to ignore. Alas it seems he never let you see that affection. You gave up on him. You gave up on them all.
Azog slams himself into at full force one more time, letting the image of their horror take him over the edge. Your head throws back and a beautiful cry of lust leaves your mouth. Cum fills you up and spills over the seams.
He flips you over. A whine leaves you as his soft cock slips out of you. You are far too beautiful. With the sharp metal of his crude prosthetic he runs it over your sweaty flesh. Blood blooms from the cuts down your torso. He learned you scar so easy.
“Carry my marks, let them burn into his mind.”
May they demoralize to the point of an easy kill. No more rotten dwarfs. He had long cut ahead of them. For this plan to work he needs it to seep in. For their neglect and granted of this woman to saturate. Their joy of her being alive but at the cost of too much. To let them take to your broken form. How they will blame themselves so harshly for failing you.
The orc set you down on a pedestal of sorts. At the moment it is one. A chunk of rock elevated off the long grass. There is no doubt they’ll be passing this way. His wargs and minions are ensuring the dwarves funnel here to this field of ruins and grass.
When they do they won’t miss you laying there. You have succumbed to the exhaustion. Your head lulled back and eyes shut. Blood staining your skin around your chest and torso. His cum running down the humps of your plush thighs. They’ll know all he’s done to you. Not just tonight but since he’s made you his so many moons ago. He takes to his mount and leaves you there. To linger will be no good as much as hearing the cries of your name and sounds of horror would please him. Or to see the gobsmacked expression of Thorin at the orc’s work. A treat he will have to simply imagine.
May Thorin suffer. May he crumble at the sight of you. You were quite fun for a time but all toys reach the end of their usefulness. When Azog meets that foul dwarf again may the anger be blinding. They’ll be easy to strike down.