SPOIL OF THE ORC KING pt 3

Gorak’s deep laugh rumbled through his chest and into her back as he stayed buried to the hilt inside her, her slick walls fluttering helplessly around his thick length. He rolled his hips lazily, dragging that fat, ridged c**k along her sensitive inner walls in slow, long strokes, just enough to scratch that maddening, glorious itch, never enough to satisfy it. “I thought when I’d be splitting this sweet little cunt open,” he growled against her ear, voice dripping with dark amusement, “I’d have to break through your pretty hymen. Orc females bleed the first time, bright red on green thighs. But you…” He pulled out slowly, inch by torturous inch, until only the swollen head remained inside her, then glanced down at his glistening shaft, streaked with their mingled release but no trace of virgin blood. “…you took me like a well-f****d prize already.” He slammed back in once, hard, making her cry out, then resumed that infuriatingly slow glide. “So tell me, little sun,” he purred, one massive hand cracking against her ass in a sharp spank that echoed through the chamber, leaving a burning handprint on pale skin. “Who did you spread these pretty thighs for before me? Who warmed this royal cunt first?” Milana bit her lip, shaking her head, refusing to answer. The slow drag of his c**k was driving her insane, every ridge catching on her walls, stoking the fire higher but never letting it burst. Gorak’s grin turned wicked. He pulled out entirely, leaving her clenching around nothing, and rubbed the fat, leaking mushroom head up and down her swollen c**t in quick, wet circles. Then he began flogging her p***y with his c**k, sharp, rhythmic slaps that made obscene squelching sounds, her arousal splattering against his shaft and her thighs. “Speak,” he commanded, voice low and sinful, spanking her c**t again until she whimpered. Silence. His laugh was pure sin. “Oh, I know exactly who it was. That pretty little consort-husband of yours.” He leaned over her back, tusks grazing her shoulder. “Was his tiny human d**k good enough for you, princess? Did it stretch you, fill you, make you scream like I do?” Milana’s pride cracked under the relentless teasing. The words slipped out before she could stop them, breathless and furious: “Yes… it was better.” Gorak threw his head back and roared with laughter, the sound shaking the furs beneath them. He switched to harsh, guttural Orcish, barking an order toward the door. "Bring the human male. The princess’s little husband. Now." The heavy doors creaked open almost immediately. Milana’s heart stopped. “No…!” she gasped, trying to twist away, but Gorak’s hands clamped on her hips like iron, keeping her impaled as he rose. He untied her wrists and carried her effortlessly to the massive throne-like chair draped in thick wolf and bear pelts, sat down with her facing outward, and sank her fully onto his c**k again in one brutal drop. She cried out, stretched wide and seated to the root, his thickness pulsing inside her while her back rested against his scarred chest. “No, no, don’t bring him here!” she begged, voice breaking, trying to cover herself even bound as she was. But the guards were already dragging in a naked, bruised Desmond, once her handsome king-consort, now battered, wrists shackled, eyes wide with disbelief. He stumbled to his knees before the throne, looking up…and froze. There she was, his wife, his queen, golden hair wild, oiled skin gleaming, impaled on the monstrous orc king’s c**k, thighs spread wide over massive green ones, Gorak’s huge hands possessively cupping her breasts. Desmond’s face drained of color. He had thought her dead, slain in the invasion. Now he saw her alive, claimed, marked, dripping. Milana couldn’t meet his eyes. Tears spilled down her flushed cheeks as she turned her face away, shame burning hotter than any pleasure. Gorak’s arms tightened around her like steel bands. One hand splayed over her lower belly, pressing down so Desmond could clearly see the bulge of his c**k seated deep inside her. The other tilted her chin back toward her former lover, forcing her to look. “Look at him, little sun,” Gorak murmured, loud enough for Desmond to hear every word, voice rough and cruelly delighted. “Look at your pretty husband while you sit stuffed full of your new king’s cock.” He rolled his hips slowly, making her gasp and arch despite herself, the wet sounds unmistakable in the silent chamber. “Tell him,” Gorak continued, tusks brushing her ear, eyes locked on Desmond’s horrified face with pure predatory glee. “Tell him how you screamed my name when I made you come twice already. Tell him how you begged, unwillingly, of course for me to f**k you harder. Tell him his queen’s tight little cunt belongs to an orc now.” He gave another lazy thrust, deep and possessive, then chuckled low. “Or should I show him instead?” Before she could say anything, with such unmatched brutal strength, he slowly began lifting her up from his c**k, hand underneath her ass, and Desmond watched with wide eyes as her p***y clung to the thick, fat, green c**k, her p***y lips rubbing the veiny c**k that looked so brutal and obcene. “Just look at that, it can compare,” he said and then just let go, allowing her to drop hard on his c**k, causing her to let out a loud scream that pierced through the air and for her to squirt. Gorak’s laughter boomed through the chamber, dark and triumphant, as Milana’s body shuddered violently atop him, her sudden squirt arcing through the air and splattering across Desmond’s stunned face and chest. The human consort flinched, dripping, eyes wide with horror and humiliation as the warm evidence of his wife’s shattering pleasure coated him. Gorak’s massive hand stayed splayed over Milana’s lower belly, pressing down so the obscene bulge of his buried c**k was even more prominent. With his other hand he gripped her throat roughly, tilting her tear-streaked face toward Desmond again. “Open your legs, little human husband,” Gorak commanded, voice thick with cruel delight. “Show your queen what she used to settle for.” Desmond hesitated, trembling on his knees, but the two orc guards behind him growled and shoved him forward. Shame burning in his eyes, he parted his legs. His flaccid c**k, small, soft, barely four inches even in fear hung limp between his thighs. Gorak snorted, tusks flashing in a wicked grin. “Four pathetic inches when it’s scared. Stroke it, boy. Get it hard for us. Let your wife see the sad little thing she once called a husband.” Desmond’s bound hands were freed just enough to obey. Cheeks flaming, he wrapped a shaking hand around himself and began to pump slowly. It took long, humiliating moments, but eventually it stiffened, reaching a straining six inches, thin and pale compared to the monstrous green shaft still buried deep in Milana. Gorak rolled his hips in a slow, deliberate grind, forcing a broken moan from Milana’s lips as her oversensitive walls clenched around him again. He leaned close to her ear, breath hot, voice a low rumble only she could feel vibrate through her body. “Very good, little sun. Now tell him. Tell your pretty husband exactly what you feel right now.” He began to move, slow, deep thrusts upward, each one lifting her slightly before letting her sink back down, the wet sounds loud and obscene in the quiet room. Milana tried to bite back the words, but the pleasure was too much, brutal, mind-melting. Her voice came out breathless, ragged, drugged with lust. “It’s… it’s so much bigger than you, Desmond,” she whimpered, fresh tears spilling as Gorak rewarded her with a harder thrust. “So thick… I’ve never been this full… never felt anything like it…” Gorak’s hand slid up to pinch one of her n*****s, rolling it roughly. “More,” he growled. “Tell him how wet you got for an orc c**k. Tell him who makes you squirt like a desperate whore.” She sobbed, hips rocking instinctively now, chasing the brutal pleasure. “I… I came so hard for him… squirted all over you… your little c**k never made me do that… never made me scream… I’m sorry, Desmond, but he, he owns this p***y now…” Gorak laughed again, dark and victorious, bouncing her harder on his lap so her breasts jiggled and her voice broke on every word. “Louder, princess. Tell him you’re my bred little human slut. Tell him you’ll carry orc babies while he watches from a cage.” The words tumbled out of her in a haze of ecstasy and shame, each one a dagger to Desmond’s heart as he knelt there, stroking his inadequate erection, forced to witness his queen unraveling on her conqueror’s c**k. “That’s it,” Gorak purred, teeth grazing her shoulder. “Good girl. Keep going. Your old husband needs to hear every filthy truth.” And Milana, lost to the overwhelming pleasure, did.