Full Confession Ch. 01

A confession has been demanded of me, and so I will deliver one -- but I first intend to give a full account of my life. I insist upon this indulgence because no one will understand my crimes (so-called) unless they hear the entire story of how I came to be the first Man to live among a troop of orcs, accepted by them as one of their tribe.

Where, then, do I begin?

Perhaps I should describe my initial meeting with the orcs, when the search for my beloved Satta led me directly into their hands. Or I might rather begin with those nasty little goblins to whom Satta had been sold at the insistence of my noble mother, the Countess Borja.

But no -- the obvious place to start must be with my own conception.

Too far back, my Reader protests! Must we begin at the very beginning?

I assure you it is all for the best. My own origins offer insights which cannot be ignored. But fear not! -- I will recount all of my crimes and depravities in due course and in elaborate detail.

My mother was a noblewoman of the greatest beauty, grace, and refinement, bearing the extensive bodily modifications typical of her illustrious class. She worshipped Lud with a most devout (one might almost say desperate) zealotry -- she read from the scriptures regularly, and underwent the daily rites of devotion with unfeigned ecstasy. Frequently she spoke aloud to Lud as if He were a close friend sitting in the same room with her, imploring Him to intervene in the most inconsequential matters of her life. This extravagant faith was a bulwark against two morbid terrors: Orcs and wizardry.

She feared orcs abjectly, though I doubt she ever saw one in her life. She would rarely go out of doors by herself for fear of being captured by marauding orcs, despite the fact that there had been no raids in our district for the better part of two decades.

Her fear of wizards, on the other hand, was perhaps more well-founded. The rise of the Wizard-King coincided with both my own conception and the downfall of my family. The Countess's husband (who was not, in fact, my father) was implicated in an act of treason and was executed, along with all six of my brothers (rather, my half-brothers). My mother was raped (by the Wizard-King himself, or so the Countess would have it believed), and I was the product of that odious conjugation.

Following her assault, the Countess fled precipitously -- although she had the presence of mind to gather up as much of the family wealth as she could carry before departing. I was born the next Spring.

My mother, who might have been expected to resent and despise me as a daily reminder of her outrageous misuse, was in fact altogether diligent in my upbringing. She was fiercely devoted to my welfare, if lacking in any maternal warmth whatsoever. She named me Dominus Borjasin, while I knew her ever and always as Countess or My Lady -- certainly never as "Mother."

We lived for years as far from civilization as the Countess's refined needs would allow. Though we moved once or twice every year, we were never more than a day's walk from a village or town; and as the years passed we tended to settle closer and closer to concentrations of humanity. Shortly after my eighteenth birthday we moved almost within sight of a fair-sized village by the name of Further Edgewater, two hundred miles south of the Wizard-King's capitol. Ten years earlier that village had not even existed, and the land surrounding it was still controlled by the orcs; but their dominance had been fading rapidly since the rise of the Wizard-King, and humans were more than willing to expand into the territory the orcs had been forced to abandon.

Twelve hundred souls lived in Further Edgewater when we moved into a cottage on a wooded hill half a mile north of town. The Countess by then had grown tired of running from the agents of the Wizard-King, whose existence and dogged pursuit of her she never doubted despite a glaring lack of evidence.

After several weeks in our new home, the Countess went to the extraordinary expedient of leaving word in the village that she intended to hire a young servant, and would begin interviewing aspirants immediately. She had never before hired a servant, and I knew then that we would be remaining in the area indefinitely.

We received our first applicant within a few hours, and over the next several days a dozen or more presented themselves at our door. They all seemed to have been grown from the same hobnailed stock, plump and homely girls with heavy rural accents and deplorable manners. The Countess took each of them for a long walk in the woods around our home, asking very few questions, commenting inconsequentially on the weather and the wildlife. I accompanied her on the first two of these tedious perambulating interviews, each of which lasted for over two hours; they ended as soon as the aspirant evinced the slightest impatience in tone or action.

Had I not known the Countess any better, I might have become convinced that she had no real intention of hiring a servant, and was merely amusing herself; but I knew better than to question her motives, no matter how inscrutable. When the last girl had been rejected, we received no more applicants for more than a week. The Countess showed no dismay, and I assumed then that we would simply do without a servant.

Then one morning there came a timid knock at our cottage door, and I answered it to find on our stoop a diminutive girl in a light traveling cloak. She drew back her hood with a self-conscious movement of her hand but did not lift her eyes to mine.

I should have offered greetings, or inquired after her business, or in some manner acknowledged her presence – but from my first sight of her I could only stare as if entranced. What it was about her that so enraptured me I cannot say – She was not beautiful, and there was nothing seductive or even charming in her manner. But her pale freckles and pixie-ish features held a fey allure, and her timorous demeanor served to heighten my beguilement. I know only that I felt in the depths of my breast a sudden painful throb of my heart, and an incontestable conviction that here, all unexpected, was an individual whose destiny was intimately entwined with my own.

If my visitor felt this selfsame lightning strike of precipitate attraction and cleaving of destinies, she revealed it only by an expression of patient bemusement.

"Beg pardon for the intrusion, sir," she said at length, her voice soft and unobtrusive. "I've come to enquire into the position of servant in this household."

"Yes," I said, still unrecovered. "I would welcome you into this house in any capacity."

I spoke in a rush, without pausing to reflect on my words, and was distressed to see that they elicited only a small frown from that exquisite mouth.

"Most gracious of you to say so, sir," said the girl rather stiffly.

Before I could think of anything further to add which might have extended our interview, the Countess emerged from her private chamber, where she had been engaged in strenuous prayer since dawn. She was carrying her favorite implement of worship, a Lingam of Lud, wiping the slickness from its long glistening shaft with a cloth.

"Do we have a guest, Dominus?"

"Uh, yes, My Lady," I stammered, unable to take my eyes from the girl's face. "She is offering to be our servant."

"Offering to ...? What are you babbling about, Dominus?"

The Countess set aside her lingam and stepped into the doorway.

Our visitor's lovely eyes widened immensely when she saw the Countess's modifications -- her elongated neck and head, her delicately pointed teeth -- but she maintained enough composure to execute a well-practiced curtsy. The Countess allowed only the tiniest smile to belie her approval, but it was enough to enflame my hopes that we had truly found our new servant.

"Well, well," said the Countess. "What is your name, little one?"

"Satta, if it please My Lady."

"Clearly, you are no mere serving-girl," said the Countess. "Is it possible that you are a servitrix of the nobility?"

"Yes, My Lady. Satta was born to serve."

The Countess took her shawl from its hook by the door and threw it over her shoulders. "Come," she said. "Let us take a walk. Do you care to join us, Dominus?"

Hearing the Countess address me with such easy informality, Satta immediately turned to me with an expression of shock and horror. "Abject apologies, My Lord!" she cried, her voice shrill with anxiety. "I did not realize that you . . . you were . . ."

"How amusing," said the Countess, her narrow upper lip curling. "The poor girl thought you were my manservant, Dominus."

"Please forgive my stupidity, Lord," said Satta, wringing her hands and blushing most attractively.

"I am no lord," I said sourly, stung to have made so poor a first impression on the girl who I felt certain must be my soul's mate. "We own no land except the garden behind our cottage --"

"Tut, Dominus!" the Countess interjected. "It is quite proper for Satta to address you so. The blood in your veins is as far superior to hers as any nobleman's in the realm."

"Very well," I said, somewhat mollified. "Yes, I'll come along."

We proceeded with our walk, following the well-trodden path into the forest. Satta's head remained bowed, though she did eventually stop wringing her hands. She spoke only in response to direct questions from the Countess, and with the fewest words possible. I studied her closely, found her more attractive by the minute; but never did she raise her eyes to mine.

Our walk continued through the long hours of the morning and past midday; we traveled much deeper into the woods than we had ever ventured before. The Countess asked Satta how she had come to be in Further Edgewater, and her eyes gleamed as the girl described recent violent upheavals in the capital. The Wizard-King had imprisoned or exterminated entire families of nobility in the previous six months; Satta was not the only servitrix who had been forced to seek far and wide for new employment.

Satta had been born twenty years earlier on a small homestead. Her mother had died shortly before the girl's tenth birthday, and being already fatherless the orphaned girl was sold into servitude. She had spent the last eighteen months as a servitrix in the sprawling mansion of Duke Furium, who until recently had been a favored advisor to the Wizard-King; now the Duke and all his family occupied a cramped grave far beyond the walls of the capitol.

As the afternoon lengthened I began to wonder how long the Countess intended to test Satta, at what point she would finally be satisfied. I dreaded the thought of this lovely and well-behaved creature failing to live up to the Countess's unattainable standards.

I was just growing aware of a gnawing emptiness in my stomach when I heard Satta's belly rumble audibly.

Tentatively, she spoke: "My Lady?"

I glanced at the Countess and groaned inwardly at the wry frown on her face.

"Yes, Satta?" she replied primly.

"Begging your pardon, My Lady," said Satta, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I . . . I believe I heard something among the trees up ahead." She pointed off to the left of the path we were on, which had grown more ill-defined as we followed it into the deeps of the wood.

The Countess halted. "What did you hear, girl?"

Satta did not reply at once, and in the pause I too heard a sound from that direction -- a gabbling, as of voices, faint with distance but coming nearer. They were not human.

"Goblins," I said, trying without much success to keep the tension out of my voice.

The Countess glared at me, as if by saying the word I had conjured the beasts into existence. "We must get off the path," she said. The three of us ducked into the brush, hiding ourselves like bandits in the thick foliage.

The goblins soon appeared not fifteen feet ahead, cackling and gibbering in their hideous language. There were five of them, armed with stout sticks and sharpened stakes. The biggest of them was holding one end of a rough hempen rope, the other end of which was knotted about the throat of a naked human girl who looked no older than me. Her wrists were bound behind her back, and she was moaning and sobbing ceaselessly through a filthy gag as she stumbled after her captors.

Satta was squatting behind me, staring over my shoulder. At sight of the miserable captive she gasped softly.

"Oh, that poor girl," she whimpered. The Countess looked at Satta sharply, shook her head once to silence her.

To my astonishment I felt Satta press her body close against my back, could hear her uneven breathing near my ear.

"What will they do to her, m'lord?" she whimpered, so quietly that only I could hear. I felt the soft pressure of her breasts between my shoulder blades, rubbing slowly back and forth, her nipples small and hard.

"They'll sell her," I murmured, attempting to sound grim rather than aroused. "To the orcs."

The goblins moved without haste across the path, bickering like angry rats. They were close enough that I could smell them, the scent redolent of wet dogs and rotting vegetation. Satta continued to grind her breasts against my back, panting very softly.

"Perhaps," whispered the Countess, with uncharacteristic trepidation, "we should rescue the girl."

I could not have been more stunned if she had suggested taking the captive's place herself. After all, by "we" she meant of course me, her only surviving son -- and I for one did not relish the thought of abandoning my place of relative safety to assault five armed goblins, albeit each of them was little more than three feet tall.

Before I could recover sufficient composure to express either shock or outrage, however, Satta clutched at my arm and whispered fervently, "Oh, but it is too dangerous, My Lord!"

She immediately released my arm, but still I hesitated another second or two as if in indecision. Finally I said, "Satta's right. If I'm killed, the two of you would be defenseless."

The Countess said nothing, but watched in frigid silence as the goblins and their puling captive disappeared deeper into the woods; Satta continued to press close against me until the noise of their passing had faded to nothing.

"We had better be getting back," said the Countess simply, clutching her shawl tightly around herself.

Few words were spoken on the long walk home; Satta resumed her painfully demur comportment, rarely lifting her eyes and never so much as glancing in my direction. I spent my time ruminating over her reaction to the sight of the goblins.

As soon as we returned to the cottage late that afternoon, the Countess agreed to take Satta in. Our new servitrix's first task was to bathe and change into her uniform, designed by the Countess herself: A simple silken shift, bedecked with pretty bows and bangles, tied with a ribbon across the waist. The ruffled hem barely concealed Satta's pubis and left the lower half of her small, firm buttocks uncovered, while the plunging neckline bared her delightful breasts.

Satta presented herself to us half an hour later, freshly scrubbed and uniformed. A pair of glittering baubles dangled on short delicate chains from her pierced nipples, and a tiny silver bell hung from a ring through her clitoris. The Countess applauded her loveliness.

"I shouldn't think you have ever been so exquisitely appareled, have you, Satta?" she asked.

"Never, Mistress!" cried the girl, beaming with delight. "Satta feels so pretty."

Not wanting to seem as though I had been struck dumb, I quickly interjected, "You are a vision of heavenly beauty!"

I was rewarded with another of Satta's winsome blushes; her eyes dropped to her slippered feet. "Master is much too kind."

"Do not fill the silly girl's head with your flattery, Dominus," said the Countess. "Now Satta, prepare our evening meal. There is wood for the fire on the back stoop. After dinner I will require a hot bath -- you may need to chop more wood to heat the water sufficiently. Our home is in a wretched state, as you can see; you will clean and straighten it first thing tomorrow morning. There is a sleeping pallet in the chest by the wall. You will sleep beside the door to my room. Do you understand your instructions?"

"Yes, Mistress."

The Countess dismissed the girl with a wave of her hand, and Satta hurried out the back of the cottage. The Countess half-turned to me, seemed on the verge of speaking, then went to her own room without a word.

I was well acquainted with the Countess's moods, and thought it better not to disturb her. Instead I followed Satta out of the cottage. She was on the stoop, surveying the small stacks of chopped wood.

"Here, let me help you with that," I said, bending to gather an armful of logs.

"Oh, no, m'lord!" cried Satta, scandalized. "Satta will do all that is expected of her. The Master need not do the work of a servitrix."

"Nonsense," I said. "I cut this wood myself. I've made fires and cooked meals for years."

Satta shook her head resolutely. "Satta is here to do those chores now, My Lord."

I stepped back and Satta went to work. When she had selected an armload of logs and was about to carry them out to the little kitchen, I abruptly called her name. She turned to me and knelt, head bowed over the bundle of wood.

"Yes, Master?"

"What do you think of me?" I asked.

She answered by rote: "By Lud's will My Lord is my Master. Serving Him I serve God."

"No, Satta. I mean, what do you think of me?"

Her perfect brow creased quizzically for a moment, then she said resolutely, "Satta is devoted to her new Master. Master speaks with the voice of Lud. Satta obeys."

How do I convey to the Reader the effect that these words had on me, I who had never before met a servitor; here was a girl bred and trained throughout her life to serve and obey without thought for herself. The Countess for her part had lived most of her life with such girls at her beck and call; I do not doubt that it was the memory of such servants which had compelled the Countess to seek a permanent domicile, that she might once again have one in the household.

I do not remember what more was said between Satta and myself at that moment. I recall only that I was overwhelmed by a need to use her, then and there. Loosing my trousers, I filled her soft moist mouth with my cock. Satta did not drop the wood she was carrying, but continued to kneel placidly as I gripped her hair and thrust my hips at her face, grunting ruttishly. In a trice I had hardened in her small, willing mouth.

I was burning with the desire to strip away the bit of clothing she wore, and to sink myself between her flawless thighs. All unbidden to my mind there arose then an image of Satta, naked and radiant with brazen eagerness. I gasped, throbbing, and was unable to arrest the torrential rush of ecstasy.

Satta ingested my issue without cavil or complaint, suckling contentedly at my shaft even after it had run dry. Gasping and sighing, I stepped back and refastened my trousers. Satta remained kneeling, head bowed, licking the thick lustrous gloss from her lips.

"Get back to work," I said in a tone more husky than imperious.

"Yes, Master," said Satta softly. "Thank you, Master."

She went on her way, and I went mine -- but I quickly found that I could not stand to be separated from her for long. Within the hour I returned to her in the little kitchen, my prick swelling with lust. Without a word I grasped her wrist as she stirred a pot of stew hanging over the fire; she did not even look up, but dropped her wooden spoon and moved where I willed her, back against the cool brick wall. There I gripped her left leg behind the knee and lifted it, grinning foolishly as the little bell at her clitoris jingled. I pressed the head of my cock against that sweet hole I so longed to fill.