The Exile's Path Ch. 03

Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long since the last chapter - real life and real work always gets in the way of writing fun smut. This was tricky to write, as I wanted to move some of the characters along the path I have planned for their development as well as introduce some elements of potential conflict. I hope it worked out and is interesting to read. Let me know how I'm doing - kind feedback and ratings keep me writing and constructive criticism is helpful!

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Chapter 03 - Mother to a Tribe

Tula was a sticky mess. A battalion of the Duke's own regiment had returned to the city, accompanying their commander after the successful capture of Sandrest. The strategically important town was now in Tennegenese hands. The Dirnese were sure to try to retake it, so a large contingent of the army had been left to garrison it, but, in the meantime, the Duke had returned to his city in triumph, escorted by a battalion of his battle-hardened veterans. Veterans who were hungry for the pleasures the city could provide.

The orc wench had just spent over an hour entertaining a group of the hardened troopers alongside Jessemyn and the two now headed back to the large single room the innkeeper's family used as their personal quarters. The blonde wench opened the door. Inside, wooden screens offered scant privacy between the three beds (one double for Victoria and Danton and two single beds for Jess and Giles) that occupied one side of the room. A few dressers sat next to each of the beds and a small table and four chairs occupied a place beside the hearth. On the other side of the fireplace was a large wooden tub, filled with water.

The room was not unoccupied, however. Sitting at the table was Giles, the Lady Emily and her brother Tomas, the Duke's son and daughter. Tula noticed Giles slide a leather folder off the table, into his lap.

"What are you doing here?" barked Jess' brother.

Jess offered a simple curtsy to the two nobles at the table, her cheeks flushing red at being caught naked and splattered with cum. Tula, unfamiliar with the human customs but not looking to offend, bowed stiffly, unfazed by her own state of undress.

"We need to clean up," explained the blonde girl.

"These are our private quarters," objected the bard. "Why did you bring *it* here?" he added, indicating Tula with a disdainful jerk of his chin.

"It is of no matter," announced Lady Emily, getting to her feet. "Our business is concluded."

The two aristocrats walked over two the door, which Tomas held open for his sister. The black haired son of the duke eyed Tula's naked, jizz glazed body appreciatively as his sister strode out into the hallway.

"Giles, old boy, make sure you bring them along to the little shindig as well, won't you?" said the young noble. Without waiting for the bard to reply, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Bah, you almost ruined everything!" spat Giles once the door was closed.

"What?" said Jess, dropping her dress beside the bath. "What's this 'shindig' Lord Tomas was talking about?"

While his sister stepped into the tub, Giles stood up and slid the leather bound folio he had into his tunic. The boy was trying to be surreptitious, but Tula easily noticed the clumsy maneuver.

"There's a victory celebration happening at the castle, this market day," said Giles proudly. "I arranged to be present."

Standing in the tub, Jess began cleaning herself. "Oh, neat!" she chirped. "We get to entertain nobles!"

"Yes, I shall be performing and you will whore about, I suppose," said the callow boy.

"Sounds like fun!" said Jess, turning to smile at Tula. "Good pay too!"

"I-" began Tula.

"I don't think we need to bring the orc," huffed Giles. "This will be a civilised affair."

"Oh, don't be such an ass," chided Jessemyn. "Besides, Lord Tomas said both of us should come too."

"Fine, she can come," sighed Giles. He rolled his eyes at his sister. "By the way, you still have cum on your ass," he added before walking over to what Tula presumed was his bed and dresser, behind one of the screens.

"C'mon Tula," said Jessemyn, "there's room in here for both of us - I'll clean your back if you clean mine."

Downstairs, Reld waited for his greenskin friend. He watched as the smith, Fiona, turned away from the bar, a pitcher of ale and three tankards in her hands. The diminutive woman sauntered through the crowded taproom over to where the fisherman sat.

"Dan says she should be down soon," said the dwarf as she plonked the pitcher and mugs upon the table and climbed up onto the bench beside Reld.

Sure enough, the pair had only just taken their first sips of the cool amber brew when Tula came down the steps from the second floor of the inn. Reld grinned appreciatively at the older woman as she walked over to them. The orc woman was wearing the skimpy modified tunic and shorts he had loaned her and filled out the tiny outfit scandalously.

Fiona slid a full tankard over to Tula after the orc had deposited the bundle she had been carrying on the table and had taken a seat. With a thirsty smile and a nod of thanks, the greenskin hefted the offered mug and drank deeply.

"Them soldiers keepin' you busy, I bet," said the dwarf as a group of inebriated troopers stumbled past the trio's table and out the door. One of the group gave a cheery nod to Tula as he reeled past.

"Indeed," replied Tula after returning the veteran's acknowledgement. "They are certainly eager."

The three bantered and laughed their way through their drinks as the evening progressed. Tula had elected to take what remained of the evening off - Fiona had mentioned that the weapons she had been working on for the wench and the fisherman were complete and Reld and Tula planned on going back to the smith's home to collect their order. All three were happy to waste some time with another pitcher before before leaving the inn, however, and by the time they made for the door, all three were feeling quite jovial - Reld even more so than his companions, thanks to the dwarf's and orc's hardy constitutions.

Over the past month, Tula had been training the young man in the ways of the warrior - more specifically, the way of an orc warrior. Along with how to wield blade and spear, the former chief's training had included an element of orc tribal culture; for an orc, warfare and tribal culture were intertwined. For the human lad, the experience had been a revelation. The confidence instilled by Tula's combat lessons carried over into an increased assertiveness in all aspects of his life. Reld had found himself more willing to push for more coin for his catch at the end of a day fishing. He had brashly and aggressively (and successfully) rebuffed an older fisherman's attempt to encroach on his fishing claim. He had also found himself much more assertive when it came to his carnal desires.

Tula and Fiona were perfectly frank when it came to their needs. In the physical way that orcs had, when Tula required the use of Reld's cock, she would simply grab the lad and put his tool to use. The dwarf was only slightly more circumspect - happy to announce she was in need of a proper fucking, a service that Reld was almost always willing to provide. The converse was also true - Tula expected the lad to take her when he needed and Fiona was a ready and willing partner whenever he found himself in her company with an itch to scratch.

"It's no dwarven brew," pronounced Fiona, walking on Tula's right side. "You really gotta try some of the dwarven stuff."

"It is not strong enough, but it tastes good," replied the orc. "We made 'torb', back in the village, by fermenting glaki roots. It is much more sour, but it is also much stronger."

As he listened to his two friends drunkenly argue about the merits of human, dwarvish and orcish alcohol, Reld reached down to squeeze Tula's ample buttocks. The orc paid no heed to the human lad's amorous attention, letting him manhandle her ass while the trio ambled from the inn to the dwarf's house. Even after he slipped his hand under the waistband of her shorts and sank his fingers into the firm flesh of her buttcheeks, the orc simply looped a muscled arm up over the boy's shoulder and walked in sync with him, happy to grant him easy access to her bouncing, cushiony assets.

Despite the short distance between the inn and their destination, by the time Fiona, Tula and Reld reached the smith's home, the youth could feel his cock throbbing with need beneath his shorts as it slowly inflated. The short time spent drunkenly exploring Tula's ass had left him hungry for her body and he was looking forward to satiating his rising lust, but the salacious thought was momentarily pushed to the back of his mind after Fiona opened the door to her home and he saw what was lying on the table in the centre of the single-room abode.

Reld had been inside dwarf's house a few times on social calls over the past few weeks and had always found her well-furnished home fascinating and opulent compared to the much more homely decor of his own shack. She had a large bearskin rug upon the floor by the hearth, a selection of ornate, well made axes, swords and various other weapons decorating her walls and a few large, sturdy and ornate chests for her other possessions as well as a couple of well-crafted tables, comfortable chairs and the most luxurious bed the fisherman had ever been in. On previous visits, Reld had happily gawked at the beautiful surroundings and drooled over the fine examples of weaponsmithing that hung on the walls, but today his eyes immediately fixed upon the two swords lying on the table.

The fisherman's blade was a standard arming sword with a tapered blade and a full-length gutter. Typical to the region, the weapon was a standard sidearm for common troopers and nobility alike. Smiling at the lad's eager expression, Fiona stood aside to let him past her. Grinning foolishly, Reld practically skipped over to the table and picked up the sword. He hefted it in his hand. It felt comfortable. He was no expert smith nor warrior, but could tell that Fiona had made him an excellent blade, despite the lack of ornamentation that tended to adorn such fine works.

"It's fantastic!" announced the boy cheerfully, spinning on his heel to beam at the smith.

"'Course it is," grinned Fiona, watching Reld give the weapon a few experimental swings. "I made it. Pretty conventional design for a sword, but for good reason; you'll find an arming sword like that is handy for combatin' armour - that tapered point will go through chainmail pretty well and the blade is strengthened by the gutter, making it good on the thrust."

While Fiona introduced the youth to his sword, Tula stepped over to the table to have a look at the other blade lying upon it.

The blade the dwarf had forged for the orc was something else entirely. Fiona called it a large falchion. Reld called it a fucking huge cleaver. Tula had just called it a sword. Lying on the table was a large, broad-bladed chopping weapon, smithed to Tula's specifications. The single-edged, gutterless weapon was as long as an arming sword, but had a significantly broader blade that widened towards the clipped point. Reld watched as Tula hefted the massive weapon. While he couldn't imagine wielding a heavy blade like the cleaver, in Tula's hands he could all too easily imagine it lopping off limbs and heads with impunity. He looked at the weapon in his own hands and then back at the sword Tula carried and marveled at the difference between the two blades.

"That's a real chopper, there," said the smith, watching as Tula gave the heavy blade a few test swings. "Make a right mess of anything that's not covered in steel, that will. I'd have ordinarily made the blade thinner on the cross-section to save weight, but you said to keep it fairly thick. I guess orcs are used to swingin' heavy chunks of steel around."

"Still," the dwarf continued, "'cos it's thicker, it could probably shear through chain, if it's swung hard enough."

"So what do you do if you fight a knight in plate armour?" asked Reld.

"Run?" chuckled the dwarf. "Only half jokin'. What you'd want to do is use a spear and shield, really, or get in real close and stick a dagger up under their armpit. I thought Tula was teachin' you."

"She is, but... I dunno... all the heroic tales are always about swords..."

"He is always on about swords," grunted Tula. "I try to teach him that the spear is the true killer on the battlefield, but he holds on to his silly ideas like a tchupik with a nut."

Fiona grinned. "A sword's a fine back-up weapon, unless it's one of those longswords they use up north, or those zweihanders the minos use - those you can swing in two hands and pry open an armoured foe with. The spear's the king of the battlefield, though, lad. You got reach, you got thrusting power, you can trip your enemy with it, you can plant it to stop a charge and you can throw it in a pinch. Don't let the stories fool you - if I were a bettin' girl, I'd put my money on a bloke with a spear over one with a sword any day, all else being equal."

The dwarf beckoned the boy back over to the table as she spoke, upon which was arrayed a number of spearheads. Two were broad, leaf-bladed in style, with a crossbar situated below the blade, on the socket mount, to prevent over penetration. While it was possible to throw almost any type of spear, this style of spearhead was designed for use on a heavy haft, for melee combat. There were also four narrower points, with thicker cross-sections, designed to be mounted on lighter shafts for use as javelins.

"I'm glad you like the sword, lad, but these here are the real tools of a soldier," explained the dwarf. "One spear and two javelins apiece. I was going to stop around the woodsman's tomorrow at the market to get the hafts for them."

"Hm," grunted Tula, examining the spear points. "These are fine work. I shall not be able to collect them tomorrow with Reld, however. There is some sort of celebration occuring at the castle and I have been hired as entertainment."

"Oh?" said the dwarf, raising her eyebrows. "Hobnobbing with the nobles, eh?"

"No, I shall be servicing them," replied the orc.

"I know Tula... it was just an expression..." sighed Fiona. "Bah, nevermind."

Tula shrugged and continued, "Jessemyn has loaned me one of her mother's old dresses." The greenskin nodded towards the bundle she had carried from the inn. "It seems silly - why must I wear such frippery only to remove it to fuck?"

"I'm sure you'll look lovely," chuckled the dwarf. "C'mon, let's see it!"

"Yeah, try it on," encouraged Reld, placing his sword back on the table and turning towards Tula.

The muscled orc rolled her eyes. "Very well. It belonged to Victoria, so it is a little tight."

It was more than a little tight.

Reld watched as his green skinned friend peeled off her shorts and tank top. Her heavy, ripe tits bounced and then jiggled gently as she pulled the shirt off over her head. Her large, dark green nipples were hard and protruded proudly from her magnificent globes of flesh. While the lad's attention was fixed to the vision of Tula removing her shorts, Fiona went over to a small sideboard and retrieved three stone tumblers and a bottle of amber liquid.

"Here," she said, nudging the distracted youth in the hip and handing him a full tumbler.

Roused from his stupor, the lad looked down to take the cup from his small friend. He could not miss the knowing smile and cheeky wink Fiona flashed him as he took the offered drink.

"Hey, can you blame me?" he grinned.

"I guess not," chuckled the dwarf. "If I had a set of titties like that, I could sell swords made of wood and no-one would notice."

"I dunno, Fi, I seem to recall your boobs being rather nice," said Reld, trying to be suave, "but I'd need to have another look to be sure."

He leaned back against the table edge and took a sip of the liquor the smith had given him, levelling a cool, appraising look at the small, muscular woman. His attempt at being smooth was ruined by the coughing fit the potent potable elicited.

"Serves you right for being a cheeky little shit," chortled Fiona.

Reld collapsed into a nearby chair, depositing his cup on the table as he struggled to regain his composure. "Gods alive, Fi, what is that stuff?!"

"Dwarven whiskey, lad," said the grinning woman. "Liquid gold."

While her friends had been exchanging quips, Tula had squeezed herself into the borrowed dress. Ankle length, with a slit that ran scandalously up her left leg, almost to her hip, the dark blue article had a low cut neckline that strained under the pressure the orc's bountiful bosom exerted upon it. A black cloth under-breast corset hugged her torso and the short sleeves hung off her shoulders.

"I require assistance," said Tula, interrupting Reld and Fiona's chatter. "I can not reach the laces at my back."

Reld looked up. His eyes widened in awe.

"Damn, girl," said Fiona, her brow raised, "you wear that dress like a succubus."

The dwarf moved around behind the orc and cinched up the corset.

"It still seems unnecessary," grunted the greenskin.

"I don't think so," said Fiona. "Just look at the effect it's having on the boy."

Tula looked over at Reld. The dwarf's assessment was accurate - the youth's eyes were locked to her. Fiona moved back to the table to retrieve her drink and waved a hand in front of the fisherman's face. Reld grinned sheepishly.

"See?" said the smith. "Struck dumb." She smiled slyly and dropped her hand onto the boy's lap, seizing his cock through his shorts and giving the hardening organ a squeeze. "Yep, that dress is gonna be a money-maker, girl."

Tula's apprehensive expression shifted into a somewhat smug grin. "It does seem to have a certain effect."

"You look amazing," mumbled Reld. Tula presented a devilish combination of elegance and raw sexuality in the blue dress and the youth found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her. That Fiona hadn't stopped gently fondling his swollen phallus through his pants didn't help his distracted state.

Enjoying the effect her new clothes had induced on her friend, Tula sashayed over to the chair where he sat and leaned over him, presenting her devastating cleavage as she reached past him to retrieve the remaining tumbler of whiskey from the table. Unable to hold back, Reld reached up and ran his hands over the sides of her sublime breasts.

"I suppose it would only be prudent to make sure I can still work while wearing this ridiculous thing," announced the orc, standing before the dumbstruck lad and downing the contents of the stone tumbler in one swig.

She leaned forward once more, placing the empty cup back on the table, but, instead of straightening up afterwards, she hiked the dress up until it slid above her knee and spread her legs before lowering herself onto Reld's lap.

"Hmmm, it seems to be flexible enough," she proclaimed, grinding her cunt against the boy's bulge. "Remove your shorts," commanded the sultry greenskin.

Reld complied as quickly as he could, scooching his butt up and shimmying his shorts down to his knees. His eager organ leapt upwards, smacking against Tula's pussy. Nearby, Fiona sat back in her chair, sipping her whiskey and watching the wanton display with a smile.

The slit along the left side of the dress was high enough that Tula was able to shift the skirt to one side. She reached down and took hold of Reld's excited member. The hot, veiny skin throbbed hungrily under her fingers. Looking purposefully into the young man's eyes, she raised herself enough such that his dick stood up straight beneath her and then lowered herself down onto the swollen organ.

Reld groaned in pleasure as his cock was engulfed by the moist warmth of Tula's cunt. His hands moved up to seize her buttocks, where one glorious asscheek was exposed by the hiked-up dress. With a grunt of approval at the sensation of her fuck-hole being filled with rigid cock-meat, Tula began slowly bucking her hips back and forth, grinding her cunny against the lad's pelvis.