Orc Dominion: Triumph Ch. 09

"It is the best plan we have" Grotok insisted, "we can't continue to sit here and bleed. We need to retake momentum, and the offensive. Augras, you have the rest of the day to do what spells you need. Bogor, rest your men and start gathering provisions. Take as much food as you can carry, because tomorrow we march!"

"One other thing, uncle. I need one of your soldiers, an orc. Someone brave and reliable for a mission." When Grotok nodded his ascent, Augras and Marishka left the tent and walked over to the blacksmiths. Augras idly twirled the ring around his finger as he mentally centered himself in preparation of the spell. The blacksmith was ready for them, waiting with a long sword blank wrought in cold, grey iron.

"I have the sword you requested, Prince Augras, but are you sure you want an iron sword? It won't be as strong as steel."

"Yes it will be, when I'm done with it. Here, "Augras pulled out the Eye of the Abyss and handed it to the blacksmith, "set this into the hilt, and then start working the iron."

The smith shrugged and held the iron over the fire while Augras began to reach inside himself to summon the magic. He pictured Amelie in his mind, or at least what he imagined her to look like. Though he had never seen her himself, he had heard that she was tall for a woman, fair skinned, with light brown hair. He saw her as being lithe, and toned from years of riding and martial training.

In his mind's eye she was sleeping, and the world began to spin as his point of view zoomed into her forehead and into her dreaming mind. Power gathered within him, pooling in his center. At first the images he saw in her mind were random, though each one a depraved tableau. He saw Amelie being gangbanged by her soldiers, or being raped by orcs, Minotaurs, and centaurs.

Drawing his dagger, Augras held his hand out over the iron blade and cut his palm. He squeezed his hand into a fist and dribbled blood out onto the sword as it was tempered. He pushed his power out with his blood, and as he did he envisioned sorting the rampant images from chaos into order. Instead of random people or scenes, it was Augras fucking her, controlling her, directing her.

In rapid succession, images of Amelie serving him flashed through his mind, faster and faster. Augras' blood sizzled on the sides of the blade as his magic dripped into the iron of the sword. As he channeled his power, Marishka knelt by his side and pulled out his cock.

Disregarding all the onlookers, she took him into her mouth and began to suckle his cock. With the sexual overtones of Augras' magic, a more direct reagent was needed to augment his blood. She began to bob up and down as she sloshed her spittle around his member. Her lips hugged the contours of his ridged cock as she worked her way halfway down the length before pulling back up again.

A stifled grunt was the only evidence that Augras felt Marishka's ministration. He had spent long hours over months and months practicing and building up the discipline to maintain focus when channeling his magic. Though his cock grew and stiffened in her mouth, he kept projecting his power and imagination into the blade. As Marishka's mouth formed a moist pocket around his dick he pulled the pleasure from his groin and pushed it out with his magic, letting it flow into the inky, bottomless depths of the Eye of the Abyss.

The Mincenntti woman was skilled, and her mouth and tongue provided an endless source of pleasure to draw from. Faster than he could draw it out, she grew it inside him. She moved faster and faster, feeding more of his cock between her lips. Her tongue swiped about, rubbing his member all over while she stroked it with her lips. Her enthusiastic pleasuring of his dick quickly brought him to the edge of climax.

The smith did his best to keep his eyes off the strange scene playing out before him. He continued to hammer and fold the blade, working the dark grey iron into a dangerous weapon of war. Still, in the back of his mind he trembled as he saw the prince's blood splatter onto the blade. It didn't sizzle and evaporate, but sunk and stained the iron. The prospect of blood magic frightened him, but even still he couldn't help but wonder at the idea of forging a magic blade.

Augras felt his orgasm growing and began to prepare the final surge of power into the sword. In his mind's eye he saw himself picking up the blade and holding the tip to Amelie's forehead. The blade sank inside the princess knight, but as it pushed inside her head it grew out of her sword arm. Augras continued to push, feeding the sword and his magic into Amelie until the hilt disappeared inside her and she was left wielding the blade in her hand.

As he saw her lifting it up his power exploded out of him as a mixture of blood and semen shot into the forge. Marishka furiously stroked his shaft, milking out his seed until the pressure inside him eased and the spell came to an end. The smith lifted the sword and plunged it into a nearby bucket of water to cool the metal.

When he pulled the blade out again the dark iron almost shimmered malevolently. The sides of the blade were stained indelibly with his blood. The edges were splattered with it, and looked as if it had been freshly pulled from a corpse instead of a bucket of water. The cum had stained the blade as well, though they had pooled into white stars that ran up and down the length of the sword.

"It's perfect!" Augras beamed in satisfaction at the sight of it as he took it from the smith. It was the first magic blade he made, that had been made in possibly a millennia. It was just a shame it wasn't meant for him.

"Prince Augras, the King ordered me to report for a mission." A grizzled veteran orc approached him now that the ritual was complete.

"Good! It will be a dangerous one. It will test not just your skill in battle, but your poise and discipline as well. Are you up to it?"

"Always, Your Highness. Just tell me what needs doing." The orc replied.

"Here," Augras slid the sword into a simple leather sheathe and handed it to him, "you are to take this sword and take it to the other side of the Pass."

The orc looked confused. "The other side? Where?"

"There is a cave that belonged to my people," Marishka explained, "when they first came to this land. When you get to the other side, turn towards the rising sun and walk until it reaches its zenith. Then look for the lifeless fallen tree on the side of the mountain. Behind it is the cave."

"Are you sure? How do you know it's there?"

"I have seen it." She replied, simply.

"It will be there, but finding the cave is the easy part. Here's what you have to do next..."

****

"Get these tents packed up! I want everyone ready to move in an hour! The orcs think they've slipped past us and I want to let them know they can't escape!" Amelie bellowed at her men as they bustled about the camp, tearing it down and packing it

up to move out.

Her sentries had reported that the orc army was preparing to leave, and she wanted to be right on their tail when they did. The war would be entering Thestan soil for the first time, and she wanted to make sure they paid a toll in blood for entering her domain. Amelie was thankful for the work, as it was a distraction from the fire burning between her legs. She still hadn't managed to find any respite from the lust blazing within her.

"Your Highness!" One of her scouts ran up breathless. "The orc column split shortly after exiting the Pass. The minotaurs and the green orcs are hugging the mountains to the east while the main body is moving towards Orlous!"

Amelie blinked as she absorbed the report. Why are they splitting their forces? Especially the minotaurs? I wouldn't think Augras would want to lose any of his personal troop, especially not his heavy infantry. "Good work! Get something to eat and drink, then report back to your commander."

After the soldier left, Amelie pulled her map out of her pack and examined it. As she traced the projected path of the orcs' secondary force she couldn't find any immediate targets. But as she followed the mountain range she quickly determined their purpose. They're going to attack the Catabrian Hills from behind. That's why they have the green orcs; they are the ones with the most experience. I'm not sure why the minotaurs are going. Either Augras wants his personal stamp on the attack or he thinks they'll be suited to the mountainous warfare. They've certainly gotten enough experience fighting us in the hills surrounding the Pass.

The splitting of the orcs' forces presented her with something of a dilemma. She didn't have the resources to go after both armies. True, Lisene could move to intercept the main force, allowing her to pursue the splinter. Unfortunately, she didn't trust him to defeat Grotok and Augras. Besides, the defense of Thesta itself would best be served in the hands of a Thestan, even more so its Queen.

Unfortunately, that left the green orcs and the minotaurs free to ravage the Catabrian Tribes. They had already suffered enormously during Agmar's invasion, and now most of their surviving warriors were off in Heste fighting, leaving the Tribes defenseless. Amelie briefly thought about Rosalind, but then pushed the tribeswoman from her mind. They all would have given birth by now, and she didn't want to think about the fate of all those half-orc babies.

They'll have to manage, she thought. The Catabrians are going to desert Henry when they find out. Hopefully he's inflicted enough losses on Belkor to make up the difference.

"Your Highness!" Another scout came running up to her. "We've got a prisoner! Caught a damn orc skulking about near our lines!"

"Good work! Let us see what he has to say; have him brought to the quarters we built for the farmers." They had built a small longhouse for the farmers they took prisoner before resettling them in Thesta. It would serve as a perfect place to interrogate the prisoner.

After overseeing the packing of the last of her own stuff, she designated one of her sergeants to take over for the rest of the gear as she made her way to the longhouse. Two guards were already waiting for her outside.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness. The prisoner is inside with Wilkens and Jennings. He didn't have any papers with him, but he was carrying this." The guard lifted up a sword and held it out to her.

The sword itself wasn't unusual, except for the deep black stone set in the hilt, at least until she pulled it from its hilt. The sword was made of iron rather than steel, and the metal had been marked during its forging, giving it the appearance of being splattered with blood. The white star patterns were interesting as well; it wasn't done by a technique she recognized.

"A strange weapon for a foot soldier to be armed with."

"He wasn't armed with it, Your Highness. He was armed with a spear, and just seemed to be carrying the sword." The guard responded.

"Strange, but we'll soon get to the bottom of it." She stepped inside the longhouse and approached the orc, who had been tied to a chair in the center of the room. Her step nearly faltered as she noticed the orc's bulging chest and prominent square jaw capped with tusks protruding upward. A shiver of excitement at his raw masculinity shot down her spine which she quickly suppressed.

"He hasn't said anything yet, Your Highness, but we've not started asking properly either." Wilkens said, shooting the orc a nasty glare."

"Hopefully it won't come to that, so let's start with something simple. I'm sure you know, or can guess, who I am, orc. But why don't you tell me your name at least?"

The orc looked up at her with an impudent, inappropriately confident, gaze. "Jarrik."

"Well Jarrik, that is a good start. Now, what were you doing in the hills?" When the orc didn't say anything, she continued, "What were you doing so far from the rest of the army? Somehow I doubt you were the only grey skinned orc attached to that splinter force. What was your mission?"

When the orc still didn't respond, she sighed and turned towards Wilkens, "Start heating up a poker in the fire. We'll have to be quick about it, as we don't have a lot of time."

"Wait!" Jarrik interjected, "There's no need for that, I'll talk, but only to you."

"You don't get to set the terms here, Jarrik." Amelie shot back.

"You'll want to hear this alone, Your Highness. Trust me!" He grinned up at her, sending another shiver down her spine.

Amelie considered the orcs words. What could he have to say that I'd want to hear alone? She wasn't worried about him posing a threat to her, especially not being tied up. And although she wouldn't admit it, part of her wanted to be alone with the orc. "Very well. Wilkens, Jennings, wait outside." She raised a hand to forestall their protest, "That's an order. I think you both know I can handle a single orc. But do get that poker ready, in case Jarrik is just pulling our chain."

When the two guards had left, she turned back towards Jarrik. "Well?"

"I was sent to find that sword you're holding there." Jarrik nodded towards the sword.

"What do you mean, find it? What's so special about it?"

"It's a Mincenntti sword, forged long ago. Long, long ago. The Mincenntti witch knew it would be here, and Prince Augras told me to find it and bring it to him."

A Mincenntti sword? What trickery is this? "That seems farfetched. How would she know where it was, and what's so special about it?"

"She saw where it was in a vision. Described the cave perfectly, up on the side of the mountain by an old tree. Even knew what kind of pictures were drawn on the walls." Jarrik shrugged as best he could while bound to the chair. "As for what's so special about it, well, answering that is going to cost you."

She didn't like the look on his face as he said that last part. "You're not in a position to dictate terms here, Jarrik, as I already told you."

"Aye, you could torture me, Your Highness. But that will take a while, and even then you won't know if what I'm telling you is the truth or just what I've spouted off to make the pain stop. Don't you want to at least hear what I'm asking for before dismissing it out of hand?"

Amelie didn't trust him one bit, mostly because he was making perfect sense. The smug look on his face told her he still had some trick to pull, even if she couldn't see it yet. She found she wanted to though, she was intrigued to find out what it was that gave his orc prisoner such confidence. "Very well, then, let's hear it."

"I want to see your tits." He crudely remarked. Before she could protest, he continued, "Oh don't get upset, Your Highness. It's not that big a deal, is it? Such a small thing, but the information I have could save lives, maybe even win the war." His grin grew wider as he leered at her chest. "All you have to do is take your tunic off. "That's not asking too much, is it?"

Red, hot rage burned through her at the orc's impertinent request. Even still, her nipples hardened in response, as the orc's sexually aggressive manner tapped into the lust she'd been trying to suppress all day. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything the orc interrupted her.

"Oh come on, are you going to let a little modesty stand in the way of saving your men's lives? Of potentially saving your Kingdom?" Jarrik laughed gutturally. "You're out here, a lone woman surrounded by men, men you've fought and bled with and you're worried about a little modesty? I'm sure they've seen 'em before, so why not me if it will get you information that might prove decisive?"

Some traitorous part of the back of her mind whispered to her that his argument made sense. It really wasn't that big a deal, was it? Besides, it cooed treacherously, he might be the answer to your problem. What better way to sat your desires than with a prisoner? He isn't one of your men; you'll never have to look him in the eye. No one will ever know, and you'll be able to focus on the war. Now that things were moving, that is more important than ever!

Her surrender began like a crack in a dam. First a little stream pushed through, then a flow, and finally a torrent as she gave in to the wicked impulse eating away at her. Amelie's heart echoed the staccato beat of a galloping horse as she reached down and wrapped her fingers around the hem of her shirt and lifted. She peeled the light, airy shirt up her body and over her head and then threw it to the floor.

Her breasts hung freely, and arousal burned through her as she felt the orcs leering gaze devouring the orbs. Despite her excitement though was also a tinge of trepidation and embarrassment. Amelie was no longer a young woman, and her breasts had begun to sag. "Well?" She asked, stroking the underside and lifting them up so they would look perkier.

"Very nice," Jarrik replied, "for an older woman. Quite smooth, good shape, decent size. Not udders like my Queen." The orc laughed.

Amelie scowled at him and released her breasts. "I meant for you to tell me more about your mission, not my bosom!"

"Hah! Well, I don't know too much about it, other than that it's a magic sword. The young Prince is smart, brave, and strong sure, but he's still young. He doesn't have his uncle's experience or skill, at least not yet, so he wants the sword as a cheat. It's supposed to make him stronger and faster, at least, that's what the witch woman said."

She wanted to strike him for telling such an absurd story, but unfortunately she couldn't rule it out. Amelie had seen proof enough of his magic powers. By the Abyss, that same magic destroyed the fortresses she built, and killed the Crown Prince of Sandora!

The blade slid forth from the hilt as she drew it halfway. She had to admit, it had a magical look to it, and seemed a deadly enough weapon. As her thumb idly stroked one of the stars a shiver ran through her, making her remember that she was still topless. She would have to investigate the sword later.

"A magic sword? Is that it?" Amelie found herself walking closer to the orc, drawn towards his masculine presence. Having her breasts swing so freely made her think of the lurid dreams she'd been experiencing. It was almost like a flashback as she found herself reveling in the experience of being publically exposed. Her pussy began to moisten as she drew closer and looked down at the tusk faced orc.

"Isn't that enough? With that sword you'll truly be invincible on the battlefield. Even the damn Minotaurs will be like children before you." Jarrik's mouth hung open as Amelie's tits hung tantalizingly close to his face.

He's right, she thought, with a sword like that I would be unstoppable...as long as I can clear my head. Amelie took a deep breath and then thrust her chest out, pushing her chest against the orc's face. The beast's tusks scraped at her skin as the orc licked and nuzzled her cleavage. Am I really going to do this with an orc? Once, the very notion of it would have disgusted her. But after being bombarded with lurid dreams for weeks her standards had changed. Jarrik didn't seem so bad, not compared to a giant squid, or being gangbanged by her army, or worse, ravished by her father. "Ooooh!" She sighed softly as her nipple brushed over his tusk, and then got caught between his lips.

It's been so long, and it feels so good! She assured herself that it would be for the best, that once she got some relief she could put this behind her and focus on defeating the orcs. But first, she had to get past her pent up lust!

Her hands dropped to the Orc's lap and gripped his inner thighs. Jarrik's shaft bulged against her palm, its thick girth throbbing as it yearned to escape from its prison. Amelie gave it a squeeze, and rubbed it firmly as she continued to rub her breasts in the orc's face. "Mmm..."