Once Dead Twice Bound Ch. 01

Damn, my prison cell is bigger than my dorm room. That's just sad.

As I continued to look around my headache faded slightly. The place was fairly stark, having no appliances of any kind. The only furnishings in the room was an old metal table with matching chairs and a large kennel in the corner. The kennel had the same design as that of a normal dog kennel but it was about seven feet by seven feet and had two inch thick metal bars and a sturdy padlock on the door. As I stared I also noticed there was also a dark figure curled in the shadows of the corner of the cage.

"Hello? Are you okay?" I asked, popping onto my feet, grimacing as the cool concrete floor chilled my feet, and approached the cage wondering who it was that had brought me here. As far as I knew I hadn't done anything to antagonize the kind of people that would be willing to do this.

"Can you understand me?" I finally got a better look at the figure in the corner. She had a mass of curly black hair that was pulled behind her back with a hair tie. Her ebony legs were exposed as she had a pair of tattered jean shorts on. Her face was tucked into her legs with her forearms wrapped tightly around them, pinned to her chest. She was breathing but hadn't responded at all. She didn't appear to be injured, but her skin was covered in dirt and her white tank top was approaching a dirty brown color, splotchy with a various shades of grime. At least one of which I suspected was dried blood. She wasn't rank but the odor coming from the cage was anything but pleasant. It was a strange musky mix of an odor, with equal parts sulfur and the copper of spilt blood. I walked over to the door attempting vainly to open it. As expected it didn't budge. The clank of the cage door and lock broke the uneasy silence of the container.

Maybe they would do the classic bad guy blunder and leave some obvious means of escape.

Freezing, I stared incredulously at a set of keys sitting on the table.

You've got to be kidding me.

Picking up the keys, I walked over to the cage. After attempting a couple of keys I finally heard the distinctive click as the lock popped open. Opening the the door of the cage door, it swung silently on well oiled hinges. I knelt, ducking low through the opening as I approached the girl.

"Ummm you're free now. I don't know how to get out of here, but maybe we can figure something out if we work together." The woman's body remained motionless but her head slowly tilted up away from her body. I had a second of surprise as I stared into her vicious looking eyes, blood filled sclera giving her the look of a woman possessed, before a sledgehammer weight drove the air from my lungs. She had lunged at me with incredible speed her shoulder striking me squarely in the sternum driving backward and bearing me to the concrete floor.

The back of my head bounced off the floor, my fading headache rushing back with a vengeance. Man it's a great thing concrete is so soft. Coach take me out I think I might have a concussen... a coscushion... a brain owie. The black lady who'd tackled me had decided she wasn't done using me as her personal punching bag. She straddled my chest as she rained blows onto my arms that I held up trying in vain to protect my bruised peach of a brain. I knew I was in trouble as she hit with a surprising amount of force for her malnourished form, leaving welts on both my forearms and face. I twisted my hips and managed to shed her weight off my stomach. Scrambling backwards on all fours, I crab walked away from her, trying to give myself some distance to figure out a way to explain how I wasn't her enemy.

"Please stop. I'm not your enem-" was all I was able to get out before she snapped a kick to my side. Pain blossomed in a sharp popping sensation that was unique to any pain I had experienced in my entire life. It was like a balloon had been hidden in my side filled with hot sauce and the impact punctured balloon releasing its highly unpleasant liquid to mix around my insides. It was almost extraordinary, the amount of pain I was in, a veritable buffet of unpleasantness from various places around my body.

I didn't know anyone could actually hurt this much. An odd burn of heat pooled in my gut before rushing up my right arm. It was strange in the way it didn't actually hurt, like I'd stuck my arm into a hot tub with the jets turned on high. I held my left hand to where she kicked me and my right out, a purple light filling my palm. The lady rushed forward at me and I noticed her surprising height as I realized she was actually taller than me, her height had seemed diminished when she was folded into the corner of the cage. She was a feral amazon, her muscles popping in stark relief, bulging against her skin. She surged at me, her raging blood filled eyes locking onto my head as she pulled her arm back to unleash a meteor haymaker. The glowing energy pulsed once, right before her fist made a bloody paste of my face. A wash of purplish flame flared out of my palm in a convex barrier that shoved the woman away from me. Well that's new, I thought staring at my palm in awe.

The woman flew back into the table knocking it over. I readied my bruised arms in a boxing stance, hoping I could reproduce whatever it just was that had sent her flying. The woman shook her head as she propped herself up with her arms. Her tank top, which had ripped during her tumble, revealed a large percentage of her firm and aesthetically pleasing assets. I cocked my head to the side trying to give her some modesty while also watching for threatening actions. Her eyes seemed to clear as she shook her torso once more. She frantically scanned her surroundings until her eyes locked on me. She quickly twisted her body facing away from me on her hands and knees presenting her taut buttocks. She looked back at me as she ripped her jean shorts down, exposing her privates.

"You. Take. Now," she seemed to have to rip the words from her mouth, they were snarled so heavily. I gave up my pretense at defense and openly stared at her in shock. The woman who so viciously attacked me before now wanted me to... well... 'take' her.

"What the ever-living fuck," I exclaimed.. "What are you talking about?" I asked, practically shouting at this point and backing away from the obviously insane woman.

"Hurry. Please," the woman snarled with tears leaking from her eyes that were reddening back towards bloodstained. I eased towards her cautiously, alert for sudden aggression. It's gotta be a trap. I reached out to touch her presented rear, the flesh tight with strain as her thighs flexed.

As I contacted her smooth flesh something snapped inside of me. A wave of pressure surged through my sinuses and a thin stream of chilled vapor unspooled and reached out from my sternum. I looked down and I could see there was a purple wisp of energy that waved out of me like a translucent tentacle. A similar green wisp coming from her lower back. Her 'tentacle' snapped lightning quick to grab mine and pulled it tight, they merged into a single taut line running between them. A tidal wave of fear and desire flowed through my soul. Somehow, I suddenly understood how desperately she needed me to 'take' her.

Her deep pool of rage felt like it was rising like snowmelt filling up a well, pretty soon it would overwhelm her and she would be lost once more in its depths. Looking down at the girl who was now shaking in her effort to keep her sanity I noticed a shift in the color of her skin. What was once mocha colored skin was replaced with the light jade of healthy grass. Her face was broader and her forehead thicker with two upturned tusks delicately poking out of her mouth that no longer resembled an overbite. She looked more natural, somehow, like this than she had before. Like a painter copying the human form but not having ever seen one alive some ineffable details seemed off now that the truth was revealed. I gripped the warm taut flesh of her ass, she shivered, the black mass of hair covering her pussy glistened as I became aware of the depths of her arousal. Dropping my pants to the floor, I stepped up behind her, lining up my rapidly hardening flesh with her pussy.

Wait... What the fuck am I doing? The incredulity of the situation finally struck.

I hesitated at her entrance and she took the decision out of my hands as she slammed back against swallowing my tool in her enveloping heat. I moaned at the enveloping warmth of her tight pussy. She stared at the ground in concentration as she rocked back against me while simultaneously flexing her prominent muscles, increasing the grip she had on my dick.

I felt the rage ebb while her desires flowed through the strange connection I had with her mind. Grabbing the mass of her hair and I gave it a sharp jerk back as I used it as leverage to slam my hips forward. Our flesh met in great claps as I thrust into her with tremendous force.

Seriously, what the fuck is going on. This isn't me. I'm not someone who would do this to a person.

My worry of hurting her that faded though, only pleasure and satisfaction transmitted through the link. Another desire surfaced in my mind as I used a finger to slowly traced a ring around her sphincter. She stopped her motion and I hesitated, my middle finger poised at her entrance unsure if I was interpreting her correctly. Her craving surged, almost forcing my hand into motion with the force of her will. Her puckered hole gave slight resistance as I tried to calm my racing heart, reminding myself to take it slow. After reaching around and slathering her overflowing bounty, I pushed my finger just passed the first knuckle, stroking her insides with gentle curling motions.

Like petting a pussy. My brain might've blown a few fuses after the repeated blows to the head and neck region.

The combination of forceful penetration and gentle stroking sent her pleasure soaring. I felt her reach the peak and shoot past it in a great shuddering release. She sprawled onto the floor her arms above her head as her legs quivered against mine in post orgasmic tremors.

Easing off the motion, I released my hold on her hair, aftershocks rocking through her body. I felt a little dirty, and more than a little aroused. Her contentment muted my guilt and I started stepping back to give her some space, my lizard brain yelling at me to finish what I'd started. Ignoring the voice in my head as well as my, almost painfully erect penis, I pulled out of her reluctantly. Her worry surged back. She jumped to her feet, turned and shoved me to the ground. Again. I scrambled back with my hands and feet anticipating a return to violence, a stab of pain running through my side, stomach clenching at the mirroring of her earlier violence. She took two quick steps and jumped, settling her thighs around my stomach, hands on my chest as she leaned over to look me in the eye. Apparently satisfied with what she saw, she scooted back on my chest, her breasts hanging directly over my face. Their teardrop shape barely bounced in spite of their modest size. I relaxed as I felt no violence flowing through the bond, only resolution. She settled her weight more firmly onto my stomach while I reached to grasp her firm breasts, simultaneously tracing the valleys her powerful muscles created on her stomach, fascinated with her definition. I was quickly distracted from my exploration as she centered my erection and slowly began lowering herself.

"You don't have to do this you know. I felt your fear. I know that you were afraid of something and the remedy was to... you know," I finished, my voice low, trying to soothe the feelings rushing through our systems. I flushed red as I realized I was essentially trying to explain why she shouldn't sleep with me.

"It's just that I wanted you to have a choice, in the matter-" She interrupted by giving me a small smile as she clenched and released her vaginal walls, generating little kisses of pleasure across my shaft.

"Shhh...I still need to finish the ritual," she replied her voice thick and deep but clear of the guttural savagery I'd heard before. My pleasure was interrupting brain function as her comment slithered unnoticed through my ears. I quickly approach my limit as she alternated slow motion of her hips and the quick clutching of her pussy. Hands forgotten by my side, she took up their vacated residence on her breasts, lightly tweaking the dark jade areolas sending little twinges of pleasure through her own flesh. I moaned softly in enjoyment at her affection, sweat stinging hotly as it ran down my face. She felt my member swell slightly in anticipation of release and she clamped down as hard as she could in response. Erupting into her, my release triggered her own, tribal instincts reacting primally to the satisfaction of her chief. We both shuddered together as she laid down on top of me, spent after the fight and it's more enjoyable aftermath. Enveloping her with as big a hug I could manage, I gave her a light peck, her tusks providing cool contrast to her fever hot lips. I could feel her relief and contentment through the tether before her presence faded into the background of my mind. She opened her eyes and looked down at me, no longer had any trace of red, I noticed how they had the beautiful deep brown. Like a dark coffee with just hint of cream swirling, and they were full of an uncomfortable amount of adoration. Unnerved by the emotion shining through her eyes I broke the oddly intimate stare and turned away.

"I'm sorry for being so presumptuous master," she said as she slowly moved off my body, averting her own eyes. Once again I was stunned at her abrupt shift in demeanor.

As our overpowering arousal faded I was now cognizant enough to recognize how unnatural it had been. Almost like she'd infected me with with her emotions without meaning to.

"Uhhh. It's okay. I didn't mind," I said trying to play catch up. "My name is Jack by the way," I provided, taking the initiative. "What's yours?" I asked determined to at least know the name of one of the two women I had slept with.

In the past two days. What has my life become?

"You have yet to give me my name, but I was previously known as Orpralagra Thickblood."

Give who their name? Also, what kind of a name was that?

I mouth the name Orpralagra trying to take in how it sounded. Orp-RAY-LA-gra, trying to work around the odd enunciation and syncopation. "How does Opal sound as a nickname?" I said as nonchalantly as possible.

If not, I hope she won't take offense at me butchering her name and lay me out.

"That will be fine master," Opal replied as she started tearing strips from her now useless tank top. "May I ask what our war band's name is?"

At this point I'm starting wonder if I'll ever get off the back foot with this woman.

"Uhhh... Reynolds, I guess?" Still confused at her currently reserved manner I answered not really understanding her questions but unwilling to look like an idiot in front of someone who could feed me my own foot if she wanted to shut me up.

She turned away from me as she let the smile that was creeping onto her face bloom into fullness. She felt the power derived from their coupling flush through her veins as her scrapes started to recede into her flesh, leaving only little blood trails as reminders of their existence. The last thing to heal were the cracked ribs that had broken by his instinctive liberal application of spirit fire. She breathed easy as her ribs eased back into place and fused in a searing heat which left behind a cool release, almost pleasurable enough to restart her engine. She felt enormous pride that she had been able to connect to the fledgling mage, in spite of my obvious naivete. She could feel through the ritual fealty bond that she was my second, my general on the battlefield. The restrictions I'd placed on her actions were very minimal, only pertaining to fidelity, honesty, and violence against innocents. She was going to enjoy helping this young man grow into his power.

"May I tend to your wounds master?" She picked up the strips and turned back to me unconcerned with modesty.

"Sure," awareness of how much I hurt roared to the forefront of my mind as dozens of scrapes and bruises vied for my attention, drowning out the fact that this was only the third instance of full frontal viewing in my life. I winced as she delicately wrapped a particularly bad gash on my right arm, stemming the slow trickle of blood. Not quite sure how to broach the subject I decided to just come out and say what was eating at me. "Why do you keep calling me master?" I blurted.

"Because you are. You are my master and I am your slave. I swore fealty to you and you accepted," she said bluntly, eyes focused on her task at hand uncomprehending of my confusion.

"When exactly did we have this conversation? Slavery is wrong. There is no reason another person should have absolute authority on another's actions. You have no need to feel owned by me and I release you from any obligations you feel," I replied passionately.

She chuckled slightly at my conviction, continuing to wrap my wounds.

"It doesn't quite work like that master. And our conversation, as you delicately put it, was thoroughly enjoyable, for both parties I think. Also, I feel the need to explain to you what actually happened, as you are obviously ignorant of the veil in spite of your abilities." She scooted back till there was a couple of feet between us.

"What do you see when you look at me?" she asked holding her hands out giving me a full view of her body. My eyes locked onto her breasts before nerves set in and I guiltily brought my gaze back to her face.

"I see a beautiful woman," I said, concerned for a trap. She gave me a slight scowl, clenching her fist in a menacing manner, although her eyes danced with laughter.

"I see an orc. Or a troll. Something like that," I said cautiously, trying to feel out what she was looking for.

Also is this the illusion, or was what I saw earlier the real thing? Where's my old guy with a beard that always gives the protagonist directions? It's high time I had my wiseman to help give me some direction.

"Good. I am an orc. And how does the media portray my kind?"

"Generally? As bloodthirsty savages who lack decency and avoid the light. You also seem stronger than humans. You tend to roam around in packs and follow a leader who is normally a giant boorish sort, you know the kind, the ones with more muscles than brains. You appear to be the cannon fodder of the supernatural world. A faceless enemy for the hero to slaughter in droves, an act that doesn't hurt the observers opinion of the hero's empathy because of their animalistic nature." I decided blunt honesty was the best course and finished my analysis of the fantasy novels I'd read with a slight grimace, hoping she wasn't about to attack me for the insult.

"Exactly. Hogwash. All of it. There is some minor truth to that depiction, but the majority is misremembered tales told from before the veil. Orcs do tend to wander in packs. And if pushed to it we can be savage beyond measure. Everything else is complete rubbish, except for the strength part. I am much stronger than you, puny halfling." She gave me a light shove and I gave a wince at the pain in my side, listing over. Her eyes softened in sympathy.

"We are intelligent beings who swear bonds of loyalty to one another through martial prowess. The bonds are sealed through the act of sex. We are less conservative in our views of copulation than that of humans. Partly because we cannot get pregnant unless we are in heat. Our bodies viciously attack any foreign bodies. We don't get sick, and we heal much faster than humans." She showed me a long gash on her outer thigh that was slowly turning pink and then faded into a green shade slightly lighter than the surrounding flesh. "The part of our anatomy most relevant to this discussion is the blood-rage. The blood-rage is a suicidal state of overwhelming uncontrollable anger. The state is brought on by feelings of hopelessness and pain. An orc who is under blood-rage becomes a juggernaut of physical prowess. Strength and endurance pushed beyond their normal limits at the cost of higher reasoning. They become an unthinking machine who hunts down the enemies of the warband until they cease to function. It's an evolutionary mechanism that ensures the survival of offspring at the cost of one's life. The characteristic sign an orc is under bloodrage is the expansion of the blood vessels in the eyes giving them a bloodshot look." As Opal's explanation continued her eyes grew more and more haunted by the memory her voice hollow.