Eowyn and the Orc
|By : JabbaTHutt|
Category: +Third Age > Het - Male/Female
Views: 19354 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
|Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. I am not making any money from this story|
The sound of orcs could be heard, it was the Eowyn’s first sign they were getting closer. A rumble of hundreds, thousands of them snarling and hissing at each other in a ceaseless argument, together with the crash of metal as they pounded the dents out of their cheap armour and scraped their even cheaper swords at whetstones. Then the smell, dank and dreary, mouldy and dirty, as if none of them had washed since coming out of their caves; overlaid with the ordure of the camp and the sweet, disgusting smell of rotten meat. Eowyn wrinkled her nose, glancing round at the others as she did. Grimbold and the other captains remained impassive, their faces as unmoving as statues. Theoden King barely seemed to notice, but he noticed little these days, he wasn’t even riding, but was slumped in a litter covered in warm blankets. Only Wormtongue seemed to notice the smell, his face creasing in disgust, before straightening it as he saw Eowyn looking at him. He gave her a sickly smile and she gave him a glare back. It didn’t seem to effect him and if she’d been hoping he’d fall of his horse with the weight of her hatred she was disappointed. He looked like he was going to, but he always did – for a man of Rohirrim he was no rider.
Soon they crested the rise and saw the orcish encampment, or rather encampments, as there were more than one tribe. There were thousands of them, Goblins, Uruk-Hai, Hobgoblins, the descendents of tortured elves, as well creatures which were neither man nor orc, but a terrible interbreeding of the two. There were men amongst them as well, evil Dunlending tribesmen allied to Saruman and his Master, and captured prisoners, enslaved by the cruel invaders. Each camp was ringed with wooden stakes, sharp enough to stop a charging horse and the stubs of trees around the valley showed there had once been woods here. In each camp there were lean toos and tents, so poorly constructed they looked like they were about to collapse and almost certainly would do if the wind moved above a stiff breeze. She could see why they smelt, there were no latrine pits away from the camp, instead the orcs shitted where they wanted and if they were lucky it wasn’t near the food or in one of the shelters. A few of the enslaved prisoners seemed to be trying to clean up, but weren’t having much success. More were cooking the food, boiling and braising over open fire, before serving to hungry orcs sitting at ramshackle tables. Yet more were in a pen, all young women, all sobbing as every few minutes an orc would come up and roughly grab one by the arm to drag them away for a bit of fun – for the orc anyway. The final two slaves were nailed to a post, blood dripping down them as they were whipped by a laughing orc.
And above it all – the White Hand of Saruman.
The White Wizard was striding towards them, leaning on his staff, though he no way needed it. Behind him came a muscular looking orc, a few strides behind the Wizard, but only few - enough to show he was a servant, but not enough to suggest subservience. The Riders dismounted, most of them gracefully, Wormtongue less so. He went to help Eowyn dismount, as the Captains went to their King to help him to his feet. Eowyn spurned Wormtongue’s hand, smiling at his hurt look and then shivering as he gave an evil smile, “No matter Lady Eowyn, I was just being friendly, I thought you might need friends.” He gave a cackle and walked over to the King, allowing the feeble old man to lean on him as he led him forward towards the Wizard, “Careful my King, you don’t want to overtax yourself, slowly, slowly, lower yourself in a bow.”
Eowyn blushed as she watched her uncle and King abase himself before the Wizard. She could almost hear the creak of the bones as he bowed deeply, even though in theory he was the superior and the Wizard just a trespasser on his lands. The Captains looked away, she knew they too felt her shame, but like her they were loyal to the Theoden King, and if he said it was peace with the orcs and the Wizard peace it was – her brother had thought differently, now he was dead and in a traitor’s grave.
Saruman let Theoden bend for long moments, before he said with no hint of irony, “You do not need to bow before me Theoden, we are all friends are we not.” His voice was a mellifluous and honeyed as it ever was, making even the most harsh words sound soft and darkest lies like the deepest truths. If Eowyn had not known he’d led the orcs into their lands she would have believed he was the closest friend her uncle had. In fact he sounded so reasonable, that for a moment, she almost doubted that he had led them and it was only the sign of his flag flying over their camps which made her jolt her head back and regard the Wizard with hatred.
“Peace...” her Uncle’s voice was soft, but it wasn’t the softness of the Wizards, but age and infirmity as if every word was a struggle.
“Peace is what we shall have,” Grima Wormtongue spoke for Saruman even though he was her uncle’s servant, “Now you have rid your halls of false counsellors and traitors who wanted to war against our friend and ally.”
“Peace is what we all desire – a small tribute to be paid to me each year, some lands you no longer need, ” Saruman said and whilst the tribute was not small and the lands were a third of the kingdom it sounded so reasonable. He didn’t mention the prisoners and slaves that the orcs would be keeping nor the right of passage for his armies or the conscription of Rohirrim for war against Gondor, but if he had Eowyn was sure the honeyed words would coat those as fluently.
She was behind her uncle now, just feet away from Saruman and she saw him looked at her – it was only close up she could see the cruelty and malice in his face, showing that all his words were lies and deception. He was no friend of Rohan, but it’s end, the Kingdom would fall, in reality it had already fallen with a whimper. She wanted to scream that out, cry to the Captains to take up their swords and in one final charge write a song to be remembered. But she couldn’t, loyalty to Theoden, as a king and kinsman was too deep in her. The White Wizard smiled thinly as if he was reading her mind. He stepped forward and reached out to stroke her face and she tried not to recoil. His smile never left his face, but nor did any warmth come to it as he turned again to the King. “And of course the final thing, to symbolise our deep friendships a union between Eowyn and one of my orc chieftans.”
Eowyn closed her eyes briefly in despair, no matter how often she heard the words she still hoped it was a nightmare. She was a Shieldmaiden of Rohan, she’d learnt to hate orcs with her mother’s milk and now she was going to have to marry one. She wished there was a way out, but there wasn’t one, her King commanded and she obeyed, even as the Kingdom and all it had stood for slid into ruin. She was so lost in her fate that she almost didn’t hear the Wizard, “Gwarsh, come forward, meet your new bride.”
Quickly Eowyn opened her eyes as the orc stepped forward and for the first time she looked at the orc who was going to be her husband. Like all orcs he was muscular, his biceps like hills and with legs like hardened trunks and a rippling chest. He was uglier than most as well, his face seeming permanently screwed up with a large nose that was almost a snout and fangs protruding up from his lower teeth, squeezing at his lips and making them seem thin and cruel. He was bald, his head scarred, with the skin tightover his skull. At least his finger nails were short, though by biting rather than clipping, as many orcs had them so long they were claws. His leather jerkin was half undone so she could see the scars on his chest and tattoos of his tribe on his arms, the leather was stained with old food and dried blood – reddish and black. The sword at his belt was jagged and sawed, with spots of rust and dirt and yet more blood on it. He was looking at her and apprising her as she looked at him.
She had made an effort, even if she hadn’t wanted too, she was loyal to the King and she didn’t want to be the reason the peace failed. Before she had left she had her maids plat her long blonde hair and place it carefully on top of her head, so only one pony tail descended down her back. The dress was expensive, of imported silks and dyes, with a leather bodice holding it together, but not so tightly that her cleavage wasn’t on display. Dangling down the gap was a ruby necklace, the chain gold and the stone itself reputedly from Moira before it fell. The orc’s lips curled in either a snarl or a smile, Eowyn wasn’t sure which one would be worse and for a moment she froze.
The orc strode towards her, covering the ground in a few bone-crunching sides. He grasped her face, squeezing it with one hand and for a moment Gamling the Old’s hand touched his sword before Grima glared at him. Eowyn couldn’t see if any of the others moved as they were out of her eyesight and Gwarsh was holding her face roughly, forcing open her mouth. His face came closer and she could smell his rancid breath, rotten meat and decaying teeth, as he gazed into her mouth. “Urrggh,” she managed to gasp as he shoved a finger in, running his hand over her molars and gums, leaving a trail of dirt and grease over them so she felt nauseous.
“Huh,” he grunted, “She’s a young one, still got all her own teeth.”
“She’s the King’s niece, a most delightful young lady,” grovelled Wormtongue.
“She’s not a whelp is she?” the Orc asked, ignoring the servant. As soon as he spoke he grasped Eowyn’s bodice and pulled it open.
She gave a small shriek as her dress pulled away, fully exposing her round bosoms. Gamling looked away as Gwarsh’s hand reached forward to grasp them. Eowyn went red with shame, no man’s hands had ever touched her bosom before and now she was having them squeezed by the rough and tough hands of an orc. His fingers dug in and despite the fact that his nails were short they still scratched at her skin, making her wince. After a few moments squeezing he let go, “Looks like you’ve given me a mature one, those baps ain’t a brat’s.”
Wormtongue leered as a blushing Eowyn laced herself up again. Saruman looked at the orc warrior, “Is she satisfactory?”
The orc spat, “She’ll do,” he grunted, “I’ll enjoy breaking her in.”
Eowyn shivered at his words, even more so as Saruman gave a cruel smile and said, “From tomorrow you can do what you will with her, she’ll be yours.”
The next day dawned warm and sunny, the sky almost cloudless and deep blue. On any other day it would have gladdened Eowyn’s heart to hear the birds twittering cheerfully and the horses neighing as they were fed their morning oats. But not today when she was due to be wed to an orc. She tried not to be too tearful as the handmaids readied her, they all had tears enough – not for her, but because they were also going to be left with the orcs; “a sign of the friendship between your two peoples and a chance for an intermingling, which will bring many benefits,” Saruman had claimed with his cruel smile. “Sex toys and breeding foals for the foul orcs,” her brother had said, before riding off to a traitor’s death. She feared her brother was closer to the truth, but there was nothing she nor anyone else could do, not now Theoden King had decreed they were in alliance with orcs as lieges of the White Wizard.
She finished readying herself and stood in front of the mirror, someone had placed in the pavilion. If it had been someone she loved she’d have been overjoyed with how she looked, even if it had been someone she didn’t mind, but was marrying for dynastic reasons, she’d have been happy. But for Gwarsh she felt miserable. Not because she didn’t look beautiful but because she did. Her long hair was piled across her head, held together by rubied pins, so you could see her pretty face without hindrance. Her dress was a flowing white one, which reached to her ankles, but held to her form and figure, arching round her bosoms and accentuating her hips. Underneath her pussy had been shaven as Rohan women did, so that only a tiny trim of hair reached up from the top.
Outside the pavilion Grima Wormtongue was waiting. He leered as Eowyn emerged, “Theoden King is feeling too tired to walk you to the wedding. He has already been ridden there and settled. He had asked that I give you away in his stead.” It was another humiliation, not just that her uncle wouldn’t be the one giving her away on her wedding day, but that he’d given the task to one such as Grima – not even Gamling or Grimbold. Still it was a minor humiliation compared to what was to come so she didn’t complain or draw away as Grima slid his arm through hers.
Normally they’d have ridden to the wedding ground, but Grima was no horseman so it had already been agreed they’d walk. The traditional gift of the bride’s horse to her husband had already been sent ahead, though Eowyn was not sure she’d ever seen an orc ride anything but those mangy wargs they allied with. The guard of honour fell in half a dozen steps behind them and the weeping handmaidens behind them. There were few people left in their camp, only those who had to come had done so and many of them were already awaiting in the orc camp for the wedding party. A few grooms and potboys watched her pass, commiserations on their faces, as well as some of the remaining kitchen scullies and camp followers, gratitude that they weren’t with her written on theirs.
“To think you could have had me,” Grima said with an evil smile, “Do you regret it?”
The proposal had been suggested by Grima when the King still had some strength left to ask Eowyn her views. She had haughtily turned him down. She regretted it now, Grima might have been a weak runt of a man, snide and snivelling in equal measures, but he was at least a man of Rohan not an orc chief. However there was no good in telling him that if she had it all again she would have married him in a heartbeat, that was not going to happen so instead she said, “I am looking forward to marrying Gwarsh.”
Grima cackled unbelievingly. “You looking forward to him fucking you with that green orc cock of his?” he said cruely.
“He will be my husband so I will lay with him,” Eowyn said primly, whilst feeling her stomach churned at the thought.
There was another evil laugh from Grima, “I hear an erect orc is near a foot long, that will stretch you.” Eowyn said nothing, wondering why Grima hated the thought of size. Grima grinned again, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The rumour is that they like to do it backdoor as well.”
“Backdoor?” Eowyn asked, not understanding what he meant.
“Up the arse,” cackled Wormtongue, “Just think that from today you’ll be being fucked in the arse by some twelve inch orc cock, not just for tonight, this is it forever.”
The thought made Eowyn almost physically ill, only that she was a Shieldmaiden of Roham kept her from bursting into tears or fleeing, though she cursed the loyalty to the King which had been bred into her from birth and which meant she’d go along with the marriage without complaint. As they got nearer the wedding site orcs poured from their encampments, surrounding the small party with their shrieks and hisses, pulling face and making lewd gestures which were meant to simulate copulation. Eowyn remained looking straight ahead, trying to ignore them, even when one of them pulled his dick out and waggled it a few feet from her she didn’t look (apart from to note that Grima was right in that it wasn’t small). Behind her some of the orcs were gripping at the handmaiden’s, dragging them away from the main party to start another, more brutal and degrading, party early. Eowyn was about to order the guards to stop it, but Grima was first, “Let them be” and for a moment Eowyn thought he was protecting the women, but he continued, “Don’t interfere with our orcish allies, if they want to pick out some of the choice first, let them.”
By the time they reached the wedding site there wasn’t a handmaiden left in the group, though there wails were audible behind them. Saruman was awaiting them, a cruel smile on his face, and beside him stood Gwarsh, who’s only effort for the day seemed to have been to bite his nails even shorter. He grinned evilly as Eowyn approached, “The wedding present was good.” He gestured to the firepits where parts of a horse were skewered and being blackened over the flames, “It’ll be part of the wedding feast.”
More than at anytime Eowyn blanched, her face paling and her palms sweltering, it had been a fine horse, a great gift, not food for hungry orcs. She looked at the Rohirric lords, they all guiltily avoided her stare, shuffling uncomfortably and looking elsewhere – anywhere but her and the horse. Only Theoden, already seated at one of the tables looked at her and for a moment, she thought she saw the old King in his eyes as his mouth opened and his back straightened. And then it was gone, he was, again, just a decrepit husk, bent over a table with some wine in a cracked goblet; a King in name only (but still her King).
“let’s begin the ceremony,” said Saruman tetchily; it was alright for him to want the wedding to begin, he wasn’t marrying the orc.
Trying to appear neither reluctant nor hurrying Eowyn went to stand next to Gwarsh. She wondered whether she should hold his hand, but he made no move to take hers so she kept still. Saruman wasted little time, there was no preliminaries just the legalities, checking that she was who she said she was and that Grima was acting as her guardian and giving her away. Then came the part she was dreading, “Gwarsh, son of a nameless orc, master of the pit, by whose own effort has risen himself to be the greatest of the orc chieftans and loyal servant of Saruman the Wise, do you take Eowyn, daughter of Eomund, niece of Theoden and heir to the lands of Gondor to be your orc-wife, to own as you see fit.”
“I do,” snarled the orc, looking lustfully at Eowyn as he said it.
“Do you Eowyn take Gwarsh to be your husband, to honour and obey in all things?” Saruman looked at her like a hawk as he spoke as if he was daring her to refuse.
“I...” the words were broken by a sob Eowyn could no longer control. The orcs laughed and hissed, enjoying her discomfort. Even her soon to be husband was grinning, his fangs protruding over his lips. She took a deep breath and tried again, “I do.”
“Put the ring on her finger,” instructed Saruman. Eowyn held out her hand with her fingers outstretched as Gwarsh pulled out a ring from a pouch on his belt. It was golden with a sparkling diamond and Eowyn would have thought it beautiful if it wasn’t for the faint scratches and spots of dried blood which told her that it had been sawn of its previous owner’s finger (hopefully when she was dead). The orc slipped it up her ring finger as the hoots continued from his minions, almost but unfortunately not quite, drowning out Saruman as he said, “I now pronounce you orc and orc-wife.”
“Now you’re mine,” snarled Gwarsh. He gripped her round the waist and span her towards him so quickly she thought she was going to faint. His face was over hers and for a horrible moment she feared he was going to kiss the bride. He didn’t instead his hands went up to her cleavage, grasping inside the bodice and ripping it hard, so the material split and her bosoms were exposed. “Let’s see these baps out,” he leered, “See what I’ve got for my ring.”
Automatically Eowyn had reached to cover herself, which made the watching orcs laugh even the harder, including Gwarsh, who put his head back and roared at his new wife’s embarrassed discomfort. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make it worse, as he reached for her wrists and grasped them strongly. Firmly, but perhaps with surprising painlessness, he pulled them away from her bosom so her boobs were exposed. “That’s better,” he snarled, keeping her hands pinned to her sides in his tight grip. “They’re a lovely pair of pups.”
Eowyn was red with shame. She had always felt her bosom was one of her best features, round and firm, not so big that they like udders nor so small they were just bumps. But having them on show for everyone was horrible, especially when it was her new husband doing the showing and his fellow orcs doing the looking. She was glad now that the Rohirric lords were looking away, trying to hide their own shame – all except Grima Wormtongue who was looking on with undisguised glee at her fallen state.
“I’m going to have me a taste,” Gwarsh and Eowyn almost fainted in horror. Visions of him literally eating her swum before her eyes. Luckily it wasn’t that he was meaning, though the reality was little better as his cruel mouth descended on her bosom. His teeth grazed at the flesh, the fangs digging so deep that they were bruising her. He bit down even harder, making her squeak with pain, but at the same time his lithe tongue started to pound at the nipple in his mouth, washing round it swiftly and hard with the proboscis. Despite herself Eowyn felt a shiver of pleasure and her squeak went up an octave. Quickly he switched to her other tit, biting deep down on it, stabbing his fangs into the flesh and grazing his yellowing teeth over the soft mammary. His tongue flickered again, teasing the erect nub and pinging it in his mouth.
He straightened, wiping his mouth clear of the saliva that had quickly formed, a cruel smile across it. Eowyn took the chance to quickly move her hands up to cover her bosoms again. Gwarsh laughed loudly and long, then stopped and grasped her wrists again, he didn’t pull, but instead said, “You know I want ‘em uncovered, so either stop covering them up or I’m goin’ to have you over my knee and you won’t like the spanking you’ll get.” Eowyn let her arms drop to her side, blushing furiously all the time and trying to ignore the catcalls of the surrounding orcs. Gwarsh grinned again, “Time for the wedding feast,” he announced to the cheers of the orcs.
He gripped Eowyn’s hand tightly and half led her, her half dragged her to the banqueting tables – if the ramshackle wooden tables with long benches could be described as such. He had pride of place in the middle of the longest one, with Eowyn beside him. Saruman took a spot on the other side of the orc chieftain and Grima sat opposite her, a snide smile on his weasel face. Theoden was a few spaces down near the bottom, hardly a place of honour and showing how little the king of Rohan meant in these new times. The other Rohirric lords were not even on the main table, but down on the edge with the minor sub-chieftains who small bands that made up Gwarsh’s larger tribe. As she sat Eowyn was aware that Grima was eying her tits lustfully and she blushed, whilst deciding she would try and ignore his eyes and pretend her bosom wasn’t on show.
“Food, drink,” Gwarsh bellowed and banged the table so hard it rattled.
The drink arrived first, brought by chastened slaves and goblin imps, not tough enough to sit with orcs or uruks. A jug was put down in front of Gwarsh and he grabbed it draining it and slamming it on the table, before yelling for more. It was quickly supplied, so full it was dribbling down the sides. Gwarsh took another swallow from the jug, before pouring a generous helping into Eowyn’s goblet and even more generous into his own. “Saruman,” he offered the wizard.
The white wizard shook his head, “Not for me,” he turned to one of the slaves, “There is some wine I brought, a casket. Open it and bring a goblet for me.”
Eowyn looked suspiciously at the drink in front of her. It was a deep, dark brown, frothy and bubbling, little speckles of what might have been saliva from her husband bobbed on the surface bouncing with what was almost certainly dirt and grime. She grimaced and seeing her husband looking at her expectantly raised the goblet as he raised his, chinking it together in a toast. He didn’t ask what she had toasted to and she didn’t tell him. She brought the goblet to her lips and sipped. It was like drinking fire, so powerful she coughed and choked. Gwarsh laughed again, slapping the table in his mirth, “Orcish ale, stronger even that the dwarves can handle. Not for weak woman.”
She nodded, “Perhaps i could have some milk instead husband.” It wasn’t a drink for weddings, but it wouldn’t burn her insides out either.”
“Milk? Milk?” Pah,” snarled the orc. “Orcish ale not good enough for you.” Eowyn was about to say it was fine and then not drink it when Gwarsh gave a cruel smile, “Well we’ll have to see about getting you something else to drink.” She wasn’t sure what he meant but she had a horrible feeling anyway, but before she could say anything he’d grabbed her goblet and drained the ale within, slamming it back down on the table. He jumped up and stood on the bench, as his fellow orcs roared and shouted. Grasping his breeches he pulled them down, so for the first time Eowyn saw her husband’s orc cock for the first time. Even flaccid it was large, the hairless balls as big, full of orc spunk she knew. He grabbed her empty goblet and to her horror held it under his cock as he began to gush dark yellow orc piss into it. The liquid arced into the goblet, splattering and tinkling as it hit the metal. Some of it missed as he laughed and rocked, landing on the table in front of her and only just missing her hands, some of it overspilled as he continued to pee even as the goblet was full, the yellow urine flooding down to land on the table, creating a pool of piss. He slammed the drink down in front of her and then jumped down to sit at the table, his cock still out.
Eowyn looked at it in stunned horror, even Grima looked a little green, though Saruman appeared merely interested. Gwarsh grinned at her, “Here’s a drink for you, orc piss.”
“You want me to drink it?” Eowyn said in disgust, feeling the bile rising in her throat.
“Yeah horse lady, I want you to follow your wedding vows and do what I say,” he snarled.
Eowyn had been brought up to believe that a vow, especially a wedding vow or one to your King, was the most sacred thing and to break it the most heinous of crimes – above rape or murder or even horse theft. To not drink the piss when her husband told her would be to break the words she said about obeying him, just as bad it would be a betrayal of Theoden King and the treaty he had signed up to. But she had never come closer to breaking her word that in that moment, as she looked between the evil face of her orc husband and the vile brew he had pissed in her goblet. He gave a slow, cruel smile, “Drink it,” he ordered.
She sobbed and tears ran down her cheek, but she reached for the goblet. Whatever the ale had made from, mixed with the urine it gave an even more noxious smell than the piss on its own and made the yellow even darker and deeper. She raised the goblet to her lips and sipped. The piss was stinging, even more than the ale, making her blink and shudder. Gwarsh laughed. “Down it, drink it all up.”
Around him the other orcs started chanting it out, “Drink, drink, drink” and slamming their hands down on the table. Eowyn paused for a second, horrified by what she was about to do, then raised the goblet to her lips and drank it down as fast as she could. The liquid stung her throat and made her stomach heave. She drank so quick, desperate to get it over, that much of it poured down her chin and over her naked breasts before dribbling down and staining her white dress. All the time she drank, a good half minute, she could feel the shudder of the table as the orcs pounded it and here there chants of “Drink, drink, drink.”
Finished she put the goblet down and turned her head to wretch and try to force herself to throw up. She didn’t manage it, the orcs continuing to laugh as she tried, leaving the vile liquid in her stomach. She sat back up again, the only good point was that Wormtongue looked distinctly out of sorts and was hardly touching his own ale in front of him. Gwarsh looked at the goblet, checking there was none in. Then he grinned at his fellows, “Seems like my new wife has finished her drink of orc-piss, must have liked it a lot to drink it all down. Anyone want to give her a refill.”
The orcs hooted in laughter and one of them stood up. Passed the Eowyn’s goblet he filled it to the brim with his piss so that it overflowed. It was handed back down the table to Eowyn, who gave a horrified smile and then sipped it, hoping that they wouldn’t make her drain this one as well. However the food was coming, the slaves and imps spooning slop into the bowls in front of the orcs. Again Saruman called for one of the slaves and sent her to his own supplies for something more tasty, as Eowyn looked at the bowl in front of her, brown mush with bits of meat. “Horse?” she said sickly.
“Aye, your wedding gift,” said Gwarsh sticking his fingers in the bowl and coming up with a large mouthful. “Not hungry?” he asked, as he chewed spitting out goblets of half-eaten meat onto the table in front of her.
She shook her head, waiting for him to tell her to eat it. Instead he just shrugged and picking up her bowl, poured it into his own. Around them the orcs wolfed down the horse dish, hissing and snarling in conversation with each other as they did. Eowyn felt alone, she would have even been happy to talk to Grima, but he was in conversation with the wizard and was taking no notice of her.
“You ever thought you’d be marrying an orc?” it was Gwarsh, speaking to her and asking a question, not giving an order, even if he did spit out bits of food as he spoke.
“No,” replied Eowyn truthfully and then because Gwarsh seemed to expect her to say something back, “Did you ever believe you’d be marrying a lady of Rohan?”
“Wed, nah,” he said and picked at a particularly knotty piece of gristle in his teeth, “Fucked a few, killed even more, plenty I did both to. You ever fucked a woman when her insides are coming out after you’ve gutted her?” It was a rhetorical question, but Eowyn shuddered and shook her head. The orc shrugged and continued, “Real squealers are the dying ones you know.” He picked his teeth again and examined the end result on his nail before sucking it. “Never thought I’d be wedding a horse lady, but things change.”
“What like?” Eowyn asked, grateful for some small connection with her orc husband.
“When I was first out from the breeding pits, five years old and full of cum,” he noticed her surprise, “ – yeah we mature early, five is an adult, not like you men where it take you near twenty years – anyway as a young warrior all I wanted to was kill, eat and rape, and I did lots of all of it. But I quickly noticed it was the orcs at the front, the grunts who did all the dying and the bosses and the chieftains who did most of the eating and fucking. Plenty of killing as well, but they were only in when the odds were good, never got a chief leading a charge over a palisade as archers filled you with holes. So I got ambition, built up a few boys of my own and took charge, then more boys and yet more, smarter ones I made chiefs themselves, they got me more boys. Got some caves and some sows for breeding, keep my numbers up. Plenty of orcs stop at that....
“I could have too, but met Saruman, he was wanting some handy boys for his army and my tribe was among the handiest. Some of the other tribes, their chiefs didn’t like the idea of swearing loyalty to an old man, Wizard or not. I wasn’t stupid, I did; those tribes have new chiefs now – me. Saruman got his armies, I got bigger.
“Saruman he saw that, saw I wanted more. He ain’t stupid, but neither am I, I want big, but I’m loyal to him at the same time, why bite the hands that feed, ‘specially when doing so gets you dead. He said to me, he was doing a treaty with you horse lords, said we’d have to stopping raiding you as you’d be his as well. That’s the deal, well I live with that and told him by boys would be no trouble and those that were I’d string up. But then he suggested more, said alliances were often sealed with a marriage and cos he wasn’t the wedding kind, what about me. Who would it be sez I, thinking he was going to marry me to some ugly as a troll bitch of a whore. Nah he sez, the Kings niece, pretty little thing – which is true – Grima said he betted you fucked good, he wanted you, but Saruman thought he’d give you to a real orc. He sez if I marry you your heir to Rohan, knock you up with a sprog and I’m Daddy to a king.”
“Oh,” Eowyn said, looking down the table at the Lords eating gingerly at their table.
Gwarsh saw where she was looking and laughed, “You think they don’t know, they’re weak not stupid. Why you think they’re kissing up to me, they realise I’m gonna being a king Daddy and they want to look good.” He grinned evilly.
Eowyn nodded sadly, there would be no rescue for her, the Rohan were an old and proud people, but now they were no-more – only the shadows were left. Gwarsh had finished with his story and was howling for more ale and food, cries which were replicated all around the tables as the orcs feasted. Eowyn was once again left alone, with only the cup of piss in front of her, which she left undrunk, though when Gwarsh glanced at her from his carousing she made a play of reaching for the goblet and lifting it up, in the hope that by appearing willing he wouldn’t make her drink it all again.
The feast continued for hours into the late afternoon, Eowyn surprised by how much the orcs could eat and drink. After the short conversation at the start Gwarsh pretty much ignored her, talking to Saruman and his orcs about war and future plans for it. Grima continued to stare at her tits, whenever he wasn’t talking to the wizard, Eowyn got used to it; even if she didn’t like it she guessed her new husband wasn’t minding others ogling her. Eventually Gwarsh slammed down his goblet with a bang, making Eowyn start. He grinned at her and stood “Time for your first orc dick.”
Eowyn had been dreading the consummation, but there was nothing she could do, the orc having made clear that no-one would be coming into save her. She stood, slowly and as gracefully as she could manage when her tits remained on open display, a fixed smile was on her face. The orcs chanted and rammed their fists on the table and Grima gave a sick thin smile as she stepped over the bench and walked towards Theoden King, to bade him good night, her new husband following behind. She expected to then go to whichever lean to or tent was her husbands. Things did not go as she expected.
She bent to kiss her uncle on his cheek, he barely seemed to notice she was there. She started to straighten when she felt Gwarsh strong hand on her back, pushing her forward against the table, her knees scraping at the bench. “What are you doing?” she gasped fearfully.
“As I said time for your first orc cock,” he growled, forcing her down further with one hand, whilst his other gripped her dress and pulled it up.
“Here? At the table? With everyone watching?” she cried, struggling against his strength.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Please” she wailed, “Let us go somewhere private where everyone can’t watch.”
“Human weddings fucking are private, this is orc – we do it here,” he replied brutally as he finished hoisting up her dress.
“For my first time please, let it be just with you,” she pleaded, trying to appeal to his better nature.
For a second it seemed to work as he loosened his grip, “You’re a virgin.”
“Yes,” she replied, grateful that she had never given into temptation.
Orcs don’t have better natures. “I love breaking in virgins.”
Eowyn cried as he pushed her on the table, her struggles to no avail. He was holding her down with one hand as he unlaced his breeches with another. In her ears Eowyn could hear the constant drumbeat of orcs pounding the table and the chant of her husband’s name. “Move aside old man,” he pushed the King roughly along the bench to give himself more room and Eowyn could feel his rough, strong hands on her back and arse, spreading her legs apart.
Then she could feel the touch of his orc cock against her sphincter. “No,” she cried out, “Not in there.”
Unsurprisingly Gwarsh ignored her. With one brutal thrust he penetrated her. Eowyn squealed in pain as the thick orc-meat rammed into her tight back hole, stretching and straining it wider than it had ever been. “No, no, please don’t,” she cried, as the orc drove in again, further and faster, his hard cock opening her ass. Her fingers gripped at the wood table, her nails scrabbling at it. She was vaguely aware her tits were rubbing in some gloop, that she didn’t want to know what it was, but all her mind was on her arse as her husband rammed it harder and faster, so she feared it would split. His muscular thighs were slamming at her naked buttocks, making them bounce and jiggle, she could feel his big orc balls bouncing at her, like a wet leather bag. “No, please stop, I’m begging you, please.”
Around them the orcs cheered and shouted, yelling their encouragement to their chief. A few were grabbing some of the more choice looking slaves and dragging the women away, others were had their cocks out and were pumping them with their hands as they watched, not caring that everyone could see. Orcs have no shame, humans do. Eowyn face was red with the embarrassment and horror of being fucked in her arsehole for the first time and all in public. The Rohirric Lords were deliberately looking away, keeping to their own table and trying to pretend they didn’t notice what was going on. Beside her Theoden King was frowning, “I’m sure your new husband is very nice, but shouldn’t you go to your bed chamber for this.” Everyone ignored him. The serving girls continued to put out food and drink, hoping that they’d get lucky and a randy orc wouldn’t take them.
Only Grima seemed to be enjoying the show, moving closer so that he could watch as Gwarsh arse fucked her. “Please make him stop,” Eowyn begged him, but her uncle’s counsellor only grinned and licked his wormy lips.
The orc was going faster, slamming his huge cock into Eowyn’s hole. Tears trickled down Eowyn’s face from the shame more than the pain, which was becoming bearable. Actually her body was starting to find it enjoyable, her cunt was fluttering and wet, as when she touched herself at night and rolls of a warm joy were running through her. She squealed again, this time because of the feeling which had erupted in her. But even if her body was betraying her, her mind wasn’t and she called for the orc to stop. He didn’t.
The table continued to shake with the orcs pounding their fist on it and Eowyn being fucked over it. She looked down, unwilling to make eye contact with Grima or the watching orcs, as that would have increased her shame. The table itself was grimy and greasy, not having been washed since the last time it had been used and made worse by the terrible table manners of the orcs at her wedding feast. She wasn’t even sure what some of the mess on it was, and was sure she didn’t want to know. It was still better than looking at the grinning face of Grima or the ugly demented scowls of the orcs.
“Fuck,” grunted her husband. He pounded some more. “Fuck,” he repeated. Except this time as he spoke he shot his seed into Eowyn’s bowels. There was plenty of it, the warm cum filling her back hole and then some, the excess squirting and dribbling out of the hole as he pulled out, leaving her torn between gasping in pleasure and sobbing in shame, so she managed a little bit of both.
The orc grabbed her arse cheek and squeezed it hard, running a finger through his own goo, before wiping it on Eowyn’s dress. “That’s your first orc cock, I can tell you want more.”
Eowyn wasn’t sure whether to shake her head or nod, so she just pushed herself up and tried to rearrange her dress. She didn’t get far before Gwarsh’s hand was on her back, pushing her down again. “I said that’s your first orc dick, didn’t say you weren’t getting more, it’s an orc wedding.”
“Yes, my husband,” she moaned submitting to him.
“I’m going to have some more ale and watch you get them,” he grinned.
“What...?” for a moment Eowyn was confused, unsure what he meant. Then she saw a grinning orc stand up and loosen his breeches, exposing his large dick. “Please no, I’m your wife.”
“Yeah, and I’m letting the boys fuck you,” said Gwarsh.
The shame was so much that Eowyn burst into tears, still crying as the second orc got behind her and thrust into her still opened arse. He wasn’t as big as her husband nor as powerful, but he was still plenty large and strong and soon her body was betraying her again, with those terrible feelings of pleasure competing with her shame. She closed her eyes and pressed her face to the table, ignoring the stickiness against her lips and the foul smelly puddle her nose was in. It helped a little than she could no longer see the orcs around her, but she could still hear them, hissing and chanting, snarling in their brutal dark tongue and grunting as they tore at the food in front of them. The sounds of revelry were all around, the wap of them as they jerked their orc cocks watching her and hear the cries of the slaves, many now totally given to pleasure as the orc had their fun. The table creaked under her squeaking and squalling like it was alive. Her uncle was there, saying the odd sentence in confusion, but otherwise just grumbling and muttering under his breath as if he was a fool in the street. And then there were her own moans and yelps, treacherous cries of pleasure as she felt the orc cock pummel her.
When he came, spurting his cum into her backhole, another one took his place, fucking her hard and fast. A third one came after him and then a fourth and fifth, each one ramming her back door open until it was agony. The final one shot his seed and Eowyn waited for his replacement. It didn’t come. Gingerly she opened her eyes to see her new husband sitting on the bench opposite, his hand was below it and from the movements of his arm she could tell he was jerking himself off. He gave a snarly, grin as her eyes opened, his fangs protruding even more than normal. “You enjoyed all that orc cock, the cum must be fairly leaking for your arse.” Eowyn blushed, not sure if the first was true, but the second certainly was. She could feel it leaking from her bruised and battered bottom, down her thighs and into the back of her knees. Gwarsh swallowed some more of the powerful ale and belched, turning to an imp and demanding, “Get me more.” The small goblin hurried to obey as the orc turned back to his wife. “You ever sucked a cock before? Heard a lot of you high-born virgins suck dick like it’s your fucking mother’s teat.”
“No,” Eowyn shook her head.
The orc grinned again, “Well ain’t today a day of firsts. Get under the table and pleasure me with your mouth.”
Eowyn did as she was told, slipping onto her hands and knees to crawl under the table. It was even worse below than above, the ground muddy and messy with dropped and squashed food and crap, liquid dripping through the cracks to land on her as she scrambled. Gwarsh’s thick orc cock was out of his pants and she got her first chance to look at it properly. If it was not twelve inches it was at least ten, and thick as well, with veins protruding out of it. There was no skin at the top so she could see the bulbous head, glistening with cum and smeared with... she didn’t want to think, just that she didn’t think Gwarsh had cleaned it since it had been in her bottom. She closed her eyes, trying to escape the picture and opened her mouth. Her lips closed on the massive cock, touching it and then sliding down. It was so large and thick, that she could barely get her mouth round it and she had pull up and try again.
“Suck it all,” Gwarsh instructed and Eowyn returned her mouth to the cock. This time she felt the orc’s strong hand on the back of her head forcing her down. She choked and snorted as she went down the dick, gagging painfully as it went deeper into her mouth so her bile soaked his dong. She could taste the bitter flavour of her own arse on his cock, almost as awful tasting as the old orc cum which coated it. She couldn’t complain though not with the orc forcing her down. His hard dick pressed at her throat and she felt herself vomiting inside, the bile forcing its way up her throat and out through her lips, spurting over his green orc balls. He let her lift for a second and she snorted in some air through her nose, before he thrust her back down, his hard dick again pressing at her throat and making her gag as it hit her taste buds.
The sounds of the partying orcs were partially muffled by the table, but she could hear them grunting and squeaking, the table shaking as they hit it with empty goblets and demanded refills. Her husband pressed her harder, shouting something in his own tongue as he did so. She took him all in her mouth, trying to suck him, though with all the bile she had spewed her throat was sore and dry.
Suddenly the orc was gripping her hair and pulling her up painfully from his dick. For a second she wondered why and then with a quick flick he exploded, the cum shooting up over her face, stinging her eyes and burning her chapped lips. She shuddered in disgust as the orc cum covered her face, a silvery slime, slowly slithering down her nose and mouth, over her chin to drip down over her bare bosom and ruined dress. Gwarsh grabbed her again and dragged her up, sitting her on his knee. He gripped a goblet and grinned, “Drink.”
She was thirsty, so she took it, even as she did so realising the dirty yellow colour could mean it was only one thing. “I refilled your goblet with piss as you enjoyed the last one so much,” Gwarsh laughed. He placed his hand under the base, pushing it up towards her mouth so that she couldn’t avoid the goblet pressing into her lips. Involuntarily she opened them again as the orcs around her laughed and thumped the table, chanting for her to drink as her husband said. For the second time that day she gulped down the foul liquid, her insides heaving as Gwarsh held the goblet until she’d drained it, ignoring the dribble of piss that ran down her front.
“Tell me you enjoyed that,” there was a hint of menace in the orc’s voice as if she would dare to disobey him and see the consequences.
But Eowyn had been brought up to honour and obey her husband and keep vows so if he said she was to say she’d enjoyed it was her duty to agree, no matter how much of a lie it was. “I enjoyed it,” she forced a smile onto her lips.
Gwarsh laughed again, “See, I said she’d enjoy orc piss,” he wheezed out to his guffawing cronies.
“You want us to give her a refill,” a large orc with a mouth full of broken teeth sniggered reaching into his breeches to pull out his green orc cock.
For a moment Eowyn had visions of being made to drink the beastly brew until she burst. But to her relief her husband said, “Nah, she’s had enough – don’t want to spoil her with the amber stuff.” The orcs all laughed in agreement, as if their piss was a delicious treat not a sickening, vomit inducing swill. Gwarsh made to stand, pushing her off his knee and she stood beside him, aware that she only reached up just above his shoulder.
The orc looked around and Eowyn followed his gaze. The celebrations were in full swing, if you could call them that. There was hardly a serving girl on her feet, the few she could still see were usually on the ground with a rutting orc on top of them. Other orcs were staggering around beastly drunk, throwing up where they wanted and still more were ramming greasy food down their throats, calling for more from the goblin imps even before they swallowed. The lords of Rohan were sitting at their tables, all of them trying to work out when they could leave – difficult as Theoden was sitting at a table on his own, almost completely unaware of what was going on. Saruman had left at some point without saying good bye or even pretending to leave good wishes to the bride, she was of that little importance to him. Only Grima seemed at place, sipping from the wine Saruman had left unfinished and staring triumphantly at Eowyn in her ruined dress and covered with piss and cum.
Without warning Gwarsh drew his sword and slammed it into the table, sending splinters of wood flying everywhere and a goblin imp to his knees in a panic. The other orcs looked at him as he drew himself up, “Warriors, orcs, uruks, goblins, men (the last word lacked the enthusiasm and energy of the first four), today we were as one for my wedding feast. Tomorrow we are as one as we follow the White Wizard and make war on the scum of Gondor.” The orcs cheered wildly, at best there were a few mild hurrahs from the Rohirric, aware they had agreed to break their oldest alliance to serve with their oldest enemies. Gwarsh ignored the half-hearted enthusiasm, “Tonight, you eat, you drink, you fuck any slave or servant in this camp. Me I’ve eaten, I’ve drunk and I’m going to fuck some more. Tonight I’m going to take my woman and fuck her properly, so that she sprogs a union between man and orc.” The cheers from the orcs weren’t as loud as before, the men’s were even less. Gwarsh growled and slammed his sword down again, this time slicing through an imp who was carrying some ale to the table – it had the effect of both killing the imp and raising the cheers. For a moment Gwarsh stood basking in them, his sword held high above his head so it caught the last of the sun’s rays.
He sheathed the sword and turning to Eowyn grabbed her one handed round the waist and even as she gave a shriek of surprise threw her over his muscular shoulder like she was a lump of ham he was carrying to market. He slammed his hand on her arse, gripping “Come,” he said, like she had a choice in the matter and strode onwards.
His shelter was about five minutes away and he kept his hand on her backside all the way, squeezing and kneading it like dough, his calloused hands scratching at her bare skin. Carried like a package Eowyn felt dizzy and dazed, and even though she knew what was to come she was glad when he dropped her to her feet again. The tent was little more than a couple of poles and some stitched together leathers, half-open to any passer-by who gawked in. A couple of feet outside it was her chest with her clothes in. “You want me to change into my night things,” she asked her husband.
The orc laughed and reached for her dress, ripping it apart so that it fell to the ground leaving her naked (her shoes having fallen off somewhere on the journey). “You’re in your night things,” he said.
It was dusk, but standing in her nakedness Eowyn still blushed, trying to cover herself from her husband’s gaze, aware that orcs can see better in gloom and darkness than humans. Gwrash barked another laugh, “Still got your modesty, that’ll soon go in an orc camp.” He gave a shrug as if it didn’t matter, “Get in under the covers and I’ll join you.”
The inside of the tent wasn’t spacious with just room for a couple of fur blankets, one on the ground and one above it. They smelt, though not as bad as Eowyn had thought they would, in fact they seemed almost new and cleaned. She quickly got under them. The space was so small that she knew she’d have to lie close to Gwarsh for them both to fit, there wasn’t the luxury of sleeping with space between them. Outside he’d removed his sword and boots and was stripping out of his and top. He was very muscular she thought, every part of him seemed to bulge with them and many of them were covered by scars, signs that he had earned his chieftanship with blood. His breeches came next and she again saw how large and thick his orc cock was, even flaccid and dangling it looked like a trunk of the tapestry of an Oliphant they had hanging at Edoras.
He clambered into the tent, pulling back the top cover so that she was exposed again. He licked his lips greedily, running the tongue over the tusks. “Let’s see if we whelp us a sprog tonight,” he said as he crawled over us.
“Yes,” she said, not sure whether she was agreeing or not. It was a wife’s duty to give birth she knew, but she couldn’t say the thought of half-orc children thrilled her. Still that was no longer her decision. His rough hands were reaching down to open her legs and one of his fingers was pushing at her cunt, sliding in to it and opening it up. He grinned and worked the finger in and out, quickly joining it with a second. “You’re wet,” he said and indeed she was.
“Ooohh,” Eowyn let out a small moan of pleasure as the orcs fingers penetrated her. A wave of excitement rode through her and she gave a small shiver.
The orc saw her reaction and grinned, “Wait until you get my dick,” he promised.
Eowyn nodded and groaned again, the pleasure beginning to seep through her body. Her pussy got damper and slicker as the orc went in, until without warning he pulled his fingers out. Her cunt-hole was only empty for seconds and then his huge orc cock was pushing in. “It’s tight, not as tight as your arse, but damned tight,” he grunted. Not that it seemed to stop him shoving it deeper and deeper in, stretching her open. However it was more flexible than her other hole and whilst there was a soreness it was mild and was soon been overwhelmed by other feelings as he began to thrust and push.
“Oooooh,” Eowyn groaned. She had to admit the fingers had felt good, better than her own, but the cock felt fantastic, like it belonged in her. She let herself be pushed against the rug as the naked orc panted and thrust on top of her, his hard muscular pecs pressing down on her bosoms and squashing them like pancakes beneath his beefy body. He wasn’t stinting in his efforts either, going fast and hard, each downward thrust impaling her all the way, so that his balls were bouncing at her. “OOohhh, oooohhh,” she moaned again, unable to contain her glee.
“You like my orc cock,” grunted Gwarsh, “Tell me you’re liking my orc cock.”
Other things she had said that day had been a lie, but not her words this time, “Yes, yes, I love your big orc cock, oooohhh it is good, so good.”
Her hands reached up grab his back, caressing it as it went up and down. She could feel a scar under her fingers and she ran round it, stroking her husband’s war wound as he went in and out of her. He gave a snarl, or possibly a smile, they looked the same and stopped. Keeping his cock impaled deep in her he moved his mouth to her teat, sucking and biting it greedily and hard enough for her to gasp, even if he kept from breaking the skin. Even the roughness felt good though, when she felt his dick inside her. He moved to the other tit, giving it the same treatment and leaving it soaked in orc spit, before grunting, “Take my cock horse lady, enjoy my dick.”
He resumed hammering into her, and her legs went up and wrapped themselves around his muscular trunks, entwining and encouraging him. It made him go even faster and harder and she screamed, more in pleasure than anything else. His large orc cock was taking her to a place she had never been and never wanted to leave. Her hands gripped his back trying to pull him down even harder as her mouth gripped on his shoulder, her bite nothing like his and little more than a prick to the hardy orc. She could taste his grime and sweat, but it didn’t matter, she was his in that moment and she cared not for his flavour, only that he rammed her to the Fourth Age. Another wave hit her and her fell back down again, her mouth opening as she yowled out her excitement, “Ooohhhhh, oooooohhhh!”
He grunted and went in harder and harder, slamming into her like a battering ram. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been at it, but dusk was now darkness and her cunt both ached and sung. He gave one more grunt, “Yes” and she could feel his orc seed shooting into her and filling her pussy, to slide down into her womb. She didn’t know whether she’d become pregnant that night, but there was enough of his gooey slime in her to make that possible.
He pulled out without a word and rolled off her. Within seconds he was on his side and seconds later he was snoring.
Eowyn lay there on her back, once more ignored. For a short while she had been somewhere else with Gwarsh, almost forgetting his cruelty and darkness, unable to see his ugly face in the dark and not caring about his smell. But now she was back to reality, the wife on an orc and wondering what the morrow would bring.
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