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This isn’t right. Not at all.
Now I’m irritated. I grab her like I would some chopped wood and heft her into the bath, and her skin is smooth and soft under my hands. The human squeaks when I drop her in the water, then I hastily spin around so I can try to get my infernal dick under control.
I don’t understand it. How could I be getting horny for this slip of a human? They’re disgusting creatures, and there’s nothing in the world I want less than to slide my cock into one. But just the thought makes it jump again, and with a growl I press my hand down on my crotch, trying to will it into submission.
A tiny moan of pleasure undoes all my work. When I turn around, the human has slid down into the water, her hair floating behind her. She submerges her head, and I can make out her breasts once again, and the tight, tiny nipples topping each one like a cherry on a cake. But she’s oblivious to me as she floats in the warm water and lets out a sigh of contentment.
I’m overcome by a rush of gratification. This was a good idea on my part. Now she’ll be nice and relaxed when I have to inevitably torment her wound later.
I shake my head. I’m already doing her a big favor by seeing to her injuries. I don’t need to be worrying about her comfort, too.
I leave her alone in the tub, deciding she’s not about to run off—not that she has anywhere to go. It will be some time before Han’zir returns, so it’s not like I can sate my growing need with his body, either. Instead, once I’m inside the house, I take my cock in hand and stroke myself rigorously, pulling the skin back with each stiff pump. I’m so hard it almost hurts. I try to think of Han’zir’s tight asshole as I fuck myself with my hand, but my mind keeps drifting back to those tiny nipples, that perky butt. I’ve had orcesses and even a trolless before, and sucked their soft breasts and spread their wet cunts, but it’s never excited me like this.
Something about this human, though, is driving me closer and closer to the edge, and when I shoot my seed, it gets everywhere. There’s so much of it that I have to wash the floor before I can call it clean.
I don’t want to have to explain that to Han’zir when he gets back.
Esme
When that troll went out of the house earlier, I was afraid of him leaving me alone with his orc friend—or whatever they are. After the way the big green guy treated me in the barn, I was worried something worse might happen. He doesn’t seem to like me, that’s for sure.
But now he’s being so... nice. He put me in a warm bath and then left me alone. I can’t wrap my head around it as I lie back in the hot water, relishing how all my muscles relax. Even my arm, which has been pulsing with nail-biting pain ever since he cleaned out the wound, hurts less.
There’s a tall stool beside the tub with soap, and rubbing off all the grime and dirt fills me with immense satisfaction. These guys really are living it up out here. They have food everywhere, a clean home, even a bathtub. The biggest one I’ve ever seen in my life, actually. I could get used to this.
I’m worried about my arm, though, and the orc clearly is, too. I had hoped it would heal on its own, but that’s looking less and less likely.
It would be a terrible thing to die when I’ve just found this place, with these two odd trollkin who have, against all odds, seen fit to take me in. I was told to fear them, to hate them, to kill them. But then I think of Telise and what she said: They’re not what you think they are.
I’m starting to wonder if she was right.
I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until a loud voice rattles me out of my doze. The troll bursts out the back door and rushes over when he sees me, his odd orange eyes alight.
“Keva,” he says amiably, sidling up to the tub. He throws out some more Trollkin words I don’t understand and offers me his hand.
I think he wants me to get out, but I’m still completely naked and I don’t know how I feel about either of them seeing my body. The last thing I want is to give them lecherous thoughts. Do trollkin even see humans that way?
No. That orc doesn’t, I know this for certain, not with the way he glared and grouched at me.
Reluctantly, I take the troll’s hand and he helps me out of the tub while I cover my breasts with one arm. That doesn’t stop his eyes from grazing over me, and one side of his mouth quirks up, bringing his big tusk up his cheek. I turn around the moment I’m out of the bath and reach for my clothes on the ground.
“Nak zan,” the troll says sharply, and I halt with my dirty clothes in my arms. He pulls me by the arm, and I use the rags to cover myself as I follow him into the house.
Inside, he brings over a small pile of clothing and sets it on the table. He lifts the first item and flicks his hands to open it up in front of me, revealing a dress made of rusty yellow stitched with beige. It looks much too big for me, but that doesn’t come as a surprise given trollkin women are probably a foot or two taller than I am on any given day. He holds it out to me, and only then do I notice the orc standing behind him, arms crossed, with a grumpy scowl on his face. I don’t think he likes that the troll brought back new clothes for me.
Tentatively, I take the dress and turn around again as I drop my rags to the floor. It slides on easily, and the fabric is a little crunchy but clean and fresh. It breathes wonderfully, which is a boon in this weather. When I turn back around, the troll claps his hands, saying something to the orc that sounds rather pleased. In response, the orc gives a curt nod. I think he approves.
Crossing my hands in front of me the way I was taught, I bow to them, hoping to show how much this means to me. He went out to buy me clothes—not just one set, but two. And there appear to be other purchases inside a bag over his shoulder.
The orc pats the chair, so I listen and sit down. He’s the one in charge, I can tell that much. He snatches the bag and fishes out a few items, one of which is a little glass bottle. He pulls up the sleeve of my new dress, and I know then whatever he’s going to do will probably hurt.
Unfortunately, I underestimated exactly how much. I cringe and whimper as he dribbles a few drops in the wound and smears it around. Then he brings out something else, something that turns my blood cold.
A needle and thread.
No. I’ve seen this done before, when the master’s little boy took a big fall and cut the skin of his head open. He screamed bloody murder the whole time he was getting sewn up.
I scramble to flee, but with a growl, the orc grabs me and drags me back down into the chair while he barks instructions at the troll. Grimacing, his companion in torture puts one hand on each of my shoulders and grips me tight, keeping me in place while the orc brings the shining point of the needle down.
