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“Okay,” Melody agrees. “But do not think I shall forget. I have a very good memory.”
“I am aware of this,” Bard says dryly.
There are times when I wonder about his feelings toward the little girl, for they are not related by blood, and he is more often than not very strict with her. Yet there are other moments, like now, when I sense his deep caring.
As we emerge from the narrow streets and into the cobbled market square, the noise rises to a roar as the sellers vie for the attention of customers. One does not readily imagine orcs at a market, standing around haggling, and yet there are as many orcs here as there are humans. Krug is my first time seeing female orcs, while not quite as imposing as their male counterparts, they are not far short of it.
My eyes are drawn toward them as we move along the cobbled roadway that splits the market in half. Is this why Doug does not mate me? Does he think me inferior to the towering orc females; that my smaller, weaker body would break?
I cut a glance over at him, but all I see is him keeping alert to his surroundings and not lingering on any of the females of his own kind, as far as I can tell.
I wish he would rut me.
I wish he would let me touch his cock.
He does not even let me look at it or tend him to pleasure, even though I’m insensible with lust by the time he has done wresting climaxes from me. The male is obsessed with my pussy, inspecting it, tasting it, and petting it with his thick fingers. He has taken to sleeping with his fingers against me there. Something even pressing a single finger inside me and then insisting that I must sleep like that.
He gets a mutinous set to his jaw if I even suggest I might touch his cock.
He also gets mutinous set to his jaw if I try to move his hand from my pussy so I can sleep. It is assuredly a distraction from rest when he begins to pump his thick finger slowly in the middle of the night. And dare I make a single whimper or sound, I’m tipped onto my back so he can wrest another climax or two from me with his mouth and tongue. After that I am back tucked against him with his finger inside my pussy again, only I am wetter and even more sensitive.
I thought he was sweet when I first met him, the strange white orc who is mute in two ways.
He is not sweet. He is the devil himself, who drives me to the point of distraction with his constant petting of sensitive places.
While I take comfort in his obvious interest in me, I also worry that I’m nothing more than a passing curiosity—not a mate at all, when he will not give me his cock. How will that even work out if we never bond? Will he tire of me? Will another lass tempt him, make him hard, and pleasure him in ways I do not?
As I journey along the road toward the glistening white palace rising up beyond the multicolored stalls, I also journey through my experiences as a bondservant and how one worry is replaced by another.
As we near the palace gate, more immediate worries push to the fore. The palace is the only true brick structure in the city. Although, I have learned that those bricks are made from mud, and the whole structure was rendered in mud before it was painted white, so I now think of it as more of a grand mud hut that got a little out of hand. The thin, slitted windows and the way everything seems to curve are confronting to the eye. There is no straight line to be found anywhere, but it is imposing nonetheless.
As we approach the palace, where bondservants sweep up the red sand that gathers against the white walls, we turn to the right, circumventing the building and passing through the cobbled courtyard to where the portal master’s quarters are found, in the east tower—if one can call it a tower. It is short and squat, and rises only two stories, barely poking up beyond the palace roof.
The guards remain outside as Bard, Melody, Doug, and I take the stairs up. The portal master’s room is round and curious in design, with long benches to the left and right, and a desk beneath the small slit window that is directly opposite the door.
The portal master, Jendrick—a great barrel-chested orc with dark, green skin—rises from his chair, brushing crumbs from his gown.
Doug takes up a position at the door while I find a place to sit out of the way. Bard stands attentively a small distance away, watching. I carry a satchel everywhere with me, which holds my sewing supplies. I’m a bondservant. Although I’m a companion to Melody, I’m still expected to keep busy. I don’t mind the sewing or any of the chores I’m given. It is no trouble to do a little mending when Melody or Bard have no direct need of me.
It keeps my fingers busy and leaves my mind free. Also, I have found that when a bondservant is occupied in this way, we are invisible to our masters, orc or otherwise. I have learned all manner of interesting gossip while sitting, quietly sewing.
“I have something…” Jendrick fumbles on his desk, pushing aside a great tome and several scrolls before liberating a diamond-shaped stone hanging from a long cord. It looks like a necklace, save the stone is exceptionally big.
I turn to my mending as he passes the stone to Melody. “Do you sense anything, child?”
“Oh!” She suddenly giggles—When I glance up, she is turning it over in her hand. “It makes my fingers tingle.”
“Good, good,” Jendrick says. “And how did you get on with the book I gave you?”
“I finished it,” she says. “It didn’t make a lot of sense.”
“No,” the portal master agrees. “I don’t suppose it does. For some portal masters, the knowledge must be learned. For others, like you, it’s instinctive. But still, even if you do not fully understand what you read, the part of you that makes you special will. Now, I want you to look at this picture for me.” He goes back to his desk and selects a thick book before drawing it to the edge of the table. “Come and look at this for me, Melody.”
She goes to stand beside him—the tiny fairy dwarfed by the giant orc—and shows not a bit of fear.
The circumstances that brought Bard and Melody into the company of orcs are tragic. The dark fae attacked her kingdom and stole her. She was later liberated by orcs.
If one can call it liberation.
