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I would make a terrible farmer. I am too big, and my fingers are apt to be clumsy at delicate work—I’m a beast whose only skill set involves thumping errant humans.
My thoughts drift back to the sweet little human female, Jasmine. Her cheeks have a rosy golden hue and her eyes are a rich mahogany. She wears the harsh metal collar of a bondservant, yet I can too easily picture her in the simple leather collar that orc masters give to their cherished human pets.
My cock flexes in my hide pants. I do my best to ignore it, which is not easy, for I’m thinking about sneaking her a crust or a bit of jerky… and the ways women barter for extra food.
I will not force myself upon the lass in exchange. Except the little voice in the back of my head says that she was not averse to me, that she softened and relaxed enough to eat, once she realized I was not a threat.
I picture her standing before me, her pretty eyes gazing up at me with burgeoning trust as she nibbled on the crust.
Here in the privacy of my tarp, and away from prying eyes, I can admit that I want her.
Only I don’t rut the lasses. I’veneverrutted a lass. How could I when I’m deformedthere, mutilated from when a surgeon tried to cut my knot from me? Although I have never shifted, not once, my shifter blood manifests in unexpected ways. What they tried to cut from me grew back, bigger, and even more grotesque.
I went to a whore once, determined to rid myself of my virginal state. She laughed when she saw me and said she would have to charge extra for an abomination like that.
I won’t make that mistake again.
Yet, in weak moments in the night, I do yearn for affection. I think of women and wonder what it would be to touch them, to pleasure them, to hear the soft moans they sometimes make when the men can be bothered to pet the slick places between their thighs, to get closer to the source of the sweet, human scent of their lust.
I don’t normally pay attention to them, beyond keeping them in line, putting aside thoughts of lust for the most part, save those occasions when I take my cock in hand and find some relief.
My cock flexes as I think about petting the hand of the pretty bondservant called Jasmine. I reach my hand down and squeeze it through my pants. It doesn’t fucking help. Her unique scent is all up in my nose, sweet and beguiling. She is young and also innocent. If I have any control over it, she will stay that fucking way.
But nothing is permanent for me or the bondservants who do the orcs’ bidding. We come and go, we move here or there, we are allocated to this war party or that. The only certainty is that there will come a day soon when she will go one direction and I another. She is young and pretty and might even find herself the cherished pet of an orc of means, while I am nothing but a disfigured white orc bastard, an outcast, who can offer her little.
I still want her. Not to rut her, no. I simply want to hold her, pet her hair, and maybe one day, if I was kind and cared for her well, she might even let me pet the slick place between her legs.
My cock pulses hot and heavy with blood flow, and I push down the thick hide of my pants in order to wrap my hand around it. Before I can counsel myself on the dangers of attachment, I’m stroking myself while thinking about Jasmine. I groan weakly as I fist the engorged flesh and slowly slide my hand up and down. Gods, that feels good. I think about her on her knees as I saw her with Trent. How tiny she looked; howprecious.
Only I didn’t like the way she was terrified of him, so I replace that look with the expression she wore when she was eating her crust like a good girl for me. She would make a fine human pet. I would keep her safe. I would master her in the way that human lasses are meant to be.
In my fantasy I put her back on her knees, and it is now my hand, bigger and rougher, that tugs lightly upon her hair. She reaches out. I don’t even need to ask her. And she undoes the buckle of my belt.
My hand moves quicker. I growl lowly.
Her pretty brown eyes go wide as she sees my monstrous cock… And I come.
Fuck! My hips arch, and cum spews from my cock. I try to smother the flow, but I have no fucking chance and it shoots all over my hands and belly in thick ropey jets.
I collapse spent, taking in great gulps of air, overcome by the force of my reaction.
Snatching up a clump of foliage, I wipe myself up. I have made a fucking mess. Grunting, I drag my pants up and stagger to my feet, knocking one of the pole holding my tarp in my haste.
I pace back and forth in the woods, cursing in my head. What the fuck is wrong with me? This is why I should not think about her thus. What if my cock starts to get hard when I see her again?
I have just fucking come from nothing more than the image of her pretty face gazing upon my cock. She did not even fucking touch it in my imagining, and I was shooting my load.
How the fuck will I get the damn thing under control again?
I do not have the answer. Best all round if I do not go near her again.
* * *
Jasmine
“You have drawn the attention of the beast,” Penny says, nodding over my shoulder. “He cannot take his eyes off of you.”
I glance up sharply and peek behind me. Sure enough, there he is, the big white orc standing there with menacing intent, arms folded. He towers over the humans. He is big, even for an orc.
