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2008-08-17
Topic: Princess By A. G. Thomas The screams of the dying, not only those of her people but of the orcs, grated on every nerve ending of her lithe tall frame and sent spears of pain into her brain. She wanted to throw herself in the very front of the vanguard facing the orcs but such a jester would not only be senseless but futile. She had to keep her wits about her and fight the rear guard action like the warrior princess that she was. She needn't sacrifice herself foolishly for as long as the main host of her people survived there was hope. Turning to Tuor Finduilas urged him to take up his horn and signal her soldiers to retreat. They had fought a delaying action bravely and long enough and there was no need for the further sacrificing of what few of of her kinsmen that still stood. But even as the signal to retreat was given the orcs surged forward like a mighty wave. Heedless of the slaughter inflicted upon them they threw themselves upon the elves swords nearly burying the defenders beneath their vast numbers. Suddenly and for no explicable reason that she could fathom just as it looked as if her kinsmen would be swept aside like chaff the orc host ceased their attack. What few of her kinsmen that remained gathered about her. As one they stood before her like a wall, silent and terrible in their consensus to protect and if need be, which would certainly be the case, to die for her. For a moment silence like that of a death knell hung over the two waring factions and the carnage of broken and dead bodies, both of elf and orc which littered the pass. No clash of sword upon sword. No savage growls of the orcs, or the answering battle cry of elf was heard.
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Even the screams of the wounded and dying had ceased. It was as if the very air itself held its breath. She felt someone, she knew not who, pulling at her, trying to drag her to safety. Tearing her arm from her purposed saviors grasp Finduilas with a scream of for kinsmen and king shattering the silence leapt forward into the midst of the orcs. For a moment her kinsman stood as if of stone, for the suddenness and ferociousness of her attack surprised them. The orcs, also surprised by her attack, fell back before her. Some even turning and fleeing in panic as pressing ever deeper into their ranks she hewed arm and head from orc to stunned to respond. Deeper, ever deeper into the orc hoard she pressed. But now the choked cry coming from her throat, and which was heard by orc and elf alike, was that of her beloved Gwindor which she knew she would never see or hold again. Hearing her cry and knowing it was her death kneel as one her brave kinsmen leapt forward into the disordered milling ranks of the orcs. But the battle cry upon their lips as they fought their way to her side was not that of for king and kinsmen but Finduilas, for Finduilas and glory. As if awakening from a nightmarish sleep, and with the closing of ranks, the answering battle cry of better then twenty thousand orcs shook the very ground. Within moments all but a handful of the four hundred elves lay dead or sorely wounded. Amongst those felled in that last terrible onslaught was Finduilas. The pitiful few of her kinsmen who still lived wept as children as they gazed a final time on their beloved and brave princess laying as if reposed in sleep.
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Yet though they wept and they knew not what fate awaited them their hearts swelled with pride. For Finduilas' hand still gripped her shattered sword and about her still and silent form lay the hewed bodies of countless orcs. The last image they had of the flower of their race before they were led away in chains was of her still and silent body surrounded by ribald cheering orcs. Yet even as the terrible visage of her being roughly stripped of armor and covering emblazoned itself upon their brains an orc nearly as large as a Bulrog pushed amongst his kind. What they did not see nor hear was her stir and moan. Neither did they see the huge orc kill one of his own when the smaller had raised his sword to dispatch her as so many other wounded elves had been. With a savage growl Battalion Commander Moglig turned on the others but non dared gainsay him. Indeed like whipped curs they slink from him, contending instead to scavenge amongst other fallen, both elf and orc. Alone, and with his massive legs straddling the softly moaning elf female, Moglig stared down at her. Why, he wondered, had he denied his men from dispatching her as they already had and would undoubtedly do other of her kinsmen? Certainly not because she was a female. No, it wasn't that. It was because he recognized her for having been the reason that the hated elves had fought so bravely and almost to the last man. Yet being a female she would undoubtedly fetch a high price at a slave auction. Not just because she was shapely, but because of her evident high breeding. Perhaps the price for her would go even higher if her bravery in the days battle were told.
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Whoever bought her though would have to be very careful for she would not bend easily to another's will. Indeed and in all likelihood, she would probably kill whoever bought her. No, if he choose not to keep her he would probably be better off if he simply presented her to his Master. Doing so would undoubtedly be wiser. Presenting a high born elf female to the Master would undoubtably be looked on favorably. So favorably that instead of just simple monetary gain he would also rise in stature. Why though he wondered, was she lying here? There was blood on her certainly, but none of it appeared to be her own. Was it possible that upon seeing that their cause was lost she had feigned injury with the purpose of escaping after the orc army had withdrawn? He seriously doubted that such a thought had crossed her mind. Besides she had been in the forefront of her men and had continued to fight even as those about her had been struck down. Why then was she lying here if she had not been sorely wounded he again wondered? Reaching down he twisted her long midnight black hair about his fingers and yanked her to her feet. It was then that he saw the shallow cut and ugly bruise on her right temple. Her injury appeared to be from a deflected sword blow which, if not for her helm, would surly have been a killing blow. With her feet better then a foot and a half from the ground so that when her eyes opened she would be looking directly into his face he shook her as a wolf would a ground mouse. Her eyelids fluttered and a groan of pain issued from her dry throat as she hung limp in his grasp. Though he knew she couldn't understand him he pulled her face to his and spit at her that she was a prisoner of the proud Nurgluc.
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The bravest and most fearsome regiment of the Dark Lords mighty army. With a curl of his thick lips that showed a mouth full of brownish fangs along with a barking cough that might have passed for a laugh he taunted her about her future. Not about the suffering and torment that she would endure at the hands of his Master, but as a sex slave. With his large hand running over her lithe near naked body to stress his point he took pleasure in telling her that once he'd grown tired of her he would give her to his underlings. With what might have passed for chuckled mirth from his kind he sputtered that after he had enjoyed her he would give her to his officers and noncoms. If she survived their use of her she would then become the pleasure toy for every Nurgluc soldier under his command. If such was her fate she would be servicing no fewer then fifty Nurgluc daily. Releasing his hold on her hair he dropped her at his feet. For several long minutes he looked down at her as lurid pictures of her pleasuring him and others that he choose to give her to wove through his mind. Shaking his massive head to clear it of the images he flailed his arms and barked up, up. Not until he raised his foot as if to kick her though did she climb slowly to her feet. Grabbing her shoulders he turned her about so that she faced the opposite direction of the orcs host of which but a cloud of dust marked their passing. With a shove to her bare back and a wild wave of a muscular arm, which was almost as big around as her thigh, he motioned her forward. Finduilas had no idea what was in store for her since she had not understood a single word that the huge orc had said. But if the gleam in his beady eyes and his large pawing rough hand was any indication she knew she wouldn't like it.
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She needed to escape, to somehow find a way back to her beloved Gwindor and her kinsmen. Perhaps if she slowly stumbled along, which wouldn't be to hard to do since her boots had been stripped from her, she could prolong their travel time. She knew that the closer they got to Angband the likelier the chances were that they would came upon roaming bands of orcs. If such happened her chances of escaping would be doubly hard. Her only hope was to delay that eventuality. But how to accomplish it without making her efforts to obvious, or angering her captor in the process remained to be seen? She was not so foolish as to expect rescue. No relief force had been expected for her soldiers had been the rear guard. Their lives, if need be, freely and gladly given so that what remained of her own beloved Gwindor's army might reach and join those of King's Thingol and Fingolfin. No, she was alone. If she were to escape, if she were to survive, it would be by her wits alone, and without help from kinsmen. When she didn't appear at the expected rendezvous, rightly or wrongly, her beloved would assume that she were dead. Her only consolation was the oath of vengeance that he would swear. That, and his terrible wrath when he again met the orc host. Oh how she prayed that she would survive to see that day. To see him, if for but one last time, swinging his mighty sword with such ferocity that even the mighty worm Glaurung would quake with fear.
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Mayhap if she were cunning enough, lucky enough, she would once again be at her beloved's side before to many days passed. Until that day though she would do what ever she must to survive. She must not, nay, would not give into despair. She must think of the present and how best to escape. What ever course of action she decided upon though she had better act quick. She had perhaps a fortnight, maybe less, before the massive gates of the Iron Prison closed behind her. Once that happened there would be no escape, no reunion. Hours later, as the last faint rays of the sun tinted the sky unable to take another step, she slumped exhausted to the hard rocky ground. Wearily rolling over onto her back she looked up at her captor through eyes dimmed from fatigue. Would he, thinking her weak and not worth the effort, kill her now? No. She mustn't think like that. She must go on. But oh she was so exhausted. A minute. If he gave her but a minute she would climb to her feet and then even if he forced her to march through the night she would do so.
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But as she made an effort to rise he planted his foot to her chest forcing her back down.
For what seemed like a life time he stood over her with his foot still pressing on her chest. Was this then how she was to die she wondered as she looked up into the hideous face that showed not the slightest emotion? Would he crush the life from her as if she were a bug? Feebly her hands rose to his thick ankle in a feeble attempt to dislodge his foot as her breathing became ever more ragged and difficult. To her immense relief, though her effort to pry his foot from her had been futile, the pressure upon her chest lessened then disappeared completely. To her further surprise he sat down beside her and together with roughly jerking her head from the ground pressed a skin of water to her lips. The water was tepid and foul tasting. But to her, because she was so thirsty, it was like the finest ambrosia. She knew that she shouldn't drink her fill, knew that if she did so she would be sick. But no sooner had the thought crossed her mind, and even as her second deep swallow slid down her throat, together with jerking the skin from her lips he let her head fall back. Neither when he had initial yanked on her hair, or when her head had pounded against the rocky ground did a murmur of protest issue from her lips, even though her head hurt terribly. The pain she felt had to be from more then his rough treatment. Slowly raising her hand so as not to startle him and bring his wrath down on her she felt of her right temple. A soft groan of pain passed her lips as her fingers tenderly touched the area where the pain seemed to be centered. She remembered now. Oh sweet Lluvatar did she remember.
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She had thought she was about to die. Out of the corner of her eye, as she was pulling her sword from the neck of an orc, she had caught the glimmer of a descending sword. Someone must have deflected the sword blow else she surely would be dead. But she wasn't dead, she was alive, and because she was alive she would find a way to survive. No matter what the cost or what she had to do she would survive. She would live to see the day that the mighty army's of elf and man stormed the gates of Angband. Until that day came, no pain or humiliation that the orcs might inflict upon her would be to great to bare. Her eyes flew open and her thoughts snapped back to the here and now as incomprehensible grunts and growls assaulted her ears. For a moment she looked up at her captor confusedly as he fumbled at his waist. When to her surprise he produced what appeared to be a chunk of meat she weakly rose to sit beside him. Without dwelling on what it was that he shoved into her hand she brought it to her mouth and bit into the offered nourishment. Again, though it was stringy and rancid smelling, it was as the finest ambrosia. And when he shoved yet a second piece at her she accepted it heartily. After she had eaten her fill he gave her another drink from his skin. She expected him to tie her up so that she wouldn't escape.
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Instead, and to her relief, along with what to her were meaningless growls and grunts he lightly pushed her to the ground. For several minutes, without moving so much as a muscle, Moglig looked down at her prone still form. Confusion clouded his brain. He had always believed that her kind were soft and not to be feared. As if to proof his belief this female of their species could not even cover the ground that the weakest of the Nurgluc might cover. Yet this same woman had shattered that belief earlier. Such was contradictory to what he believed. Which was real? Was it possible that she was shuffling along like a drunkard in hopes of rescue? Surely such could not be the case. She and hers had been the rear guard meant to delay and if possible stop the orc army from catching the retreating elves. From the first though their stand was hopeless, and he was sure that they had known it. Yet never had he or other commanders of the orc army faced such determined and ferocious fighters. Even he, mightiest of the Nurgluc, had stood in awe when she had charged alone and screaming into the midst of his own proud Nurgluc. She had struck trepidation into hearts that had never before known fear and she had killed many in the process. She had accomplished her task even though it had meant the lives of nearly all her followers. Though he hated to admit it she had accomplished her task better then many an orc commander might have, for even now as the orc host followed her retreating people it did so dispiritedly.
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In all likelihood his people would never catch hers. Perhaps that was a good thing for he was sure that they had been retreating so as to join forces with a second elf army. He didn't like to think so but maybe the reason that he had searched for her body after the battle was because of her bravery. Maybe he had wished to honor her as one brave and mighty warrior should another. She hadn't been dead though. She had lived and now she was his. She was a worthy prize and so unlike those soft elf or human women that were captured from time to time in raids. No, she was a true warrior, and whoever possessed her would be looked upon as mighty indeed. And he Moglig, the proudest and bravest of the Nurgluc, was the one who possessed her. He would be envied and idolized by all those who had fought against her. Her bravery and ferociousness would be talked about and expanded upon until it was she and she alone that had held back the mighty orc host. Looking down at her torn and bloody feet he marveled that even now she voiced no complaint. Shedding his tunic Moglig ripped it into strips. Grabbing each of her legs in turn, and disregarding her initial struggles he wrapped the course cloth about her legs from foot to just above her knees. Satisfied, he once more turned his attention to her long, but what was to him her otherwise skinny form.
She had not the mass of the few females of his kind that he had seen. Still though she did have a more pleasing shape then most females of her species. Idly he wondered if she would be able to carry his child. Finduilas, in her surprise at his seeming caring, but oblivious to his thoughts smiled weakly at him. A moment later though a gasp more of surprise then of anything else hissed from between her lips as his large hand fell upon her belly. She could but stare at his rough dark hand as he spread his fingers apart covering nearly her whole abdomen. With difficulty she pulled her eyes from his hand and looked into his hideous misshapen face. A face that would give even the bravest of elf nightmares. It was almost twice as large as her own and elongated. His ears, larger and more pointed then hers, rose from the sides of his head like the wings of a bird in flight. From his broad high forehead perhaps two inches above and on the outside his eyes rose two small horns. His brows and cheekbones were so pronounced that his nose seemed flat by comparison. Moving her eyes lower still she gazed for long immeasurable minutes at his lips. Lips that were every bit as thick as one of her fingers and from the corner of which drool fell. How, she wondered would those lips feel to his mate.
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Would, did, his mate find pleasure, enjoyment in them upon her? A shiver as if from a cool breeze rippled over her flesh before she was able to tear her eyes from his broad mouth. Why she wondered had she allowed herself to think such a thing. Shaking her head to clear it of such thoughts, her eyes slowly drifted downward over his broad hairless chest to his protruding belly. The orc before her was undoubtedly the largest and ugliest she had ever seen. He was almost as big as a fearsome Bulrog. He was as different from the normal orc as her kinsmen were from man. She could only thank Lluvatar that she had never met him in battle. As her eyes moved upward once more to his hideous face there was no doubt in her mind that if he wasn't high born he at least stood very high in the orc ranks. But if such was the case why then was he taking her to her doom. Why hadn't he assigned the task to a common soldier. What if anything did he hope to gain by personally taking her to Angband? Rich's? Higher status? Surely he could not hope to gain such even if he presented her to the Dark Lord himself. After all, she was but a simple princess of the Noldor. No, there must be another reason, but what? Suddenly her thoughts shifted from what's and why's to panic as without warning his thick arm fell on her. With the ease of an adult handling a baby he rolled her onto her side and pulled her back against his massive body. Panic surged through her and in that panic she struggled with him.
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His strength was such though that her feeble struggles were as nought and ceased altogether with his barking growl and an even further tightening of his arms about her. As one frozen she lay shivering with her back pressed fully to the front of his massive body, his hot breath washing over her ear like a bellows from a forge. How long she lay thus until sleep finally wrapped her in its soft warm embrace she didn't know. Moglig though did not sleep. His mind was filled with thoughts that were totally alien to him. Unfamiliar and disturbing certainly, but, and this surprised him, not distasteful. A smile curled his large thick lips as in her sleep she squirmed as if seeking greater comfort before with a soft sigh settling ever tighter against him. Raising slightly he looked down at her face. A face which he was sure that her kind found very pleasing. With a slow movement so as not to wake her his hand moved to her breast.
As his hand covered and squeezed her breast with almost tender care she wiggled back against him and a soft sigh slipped from between her lips. Moving his hand from her he slipped it down between their two body's, his fingernails raking her bare buttocks as he did so. He held his breath as she with a discordant moan jerked from his touch. Yet at fast as she had shied from his touch she just as quickly pressed back against him but not before he was able to loosen his pants and free his cock. Without any effort on his part better then five inches of his foot long thick cock wormed between her legs simply from her own movements.
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To his surprise her thighs tightened about him as his cock slid against her pussy. Her breath caught and her body stiffened as his breath washed the side of her face and her ear like a bellows stoking a forge. A heartbeat later together with her thighs rubbing together and her hand reaching back between them soft purring rumbles sounded in her throat. As her fingers traced over his protruding belly then glided lightly ever downward visions of him burying himself in her flashed before his eyes. His fingers tingled as if stunned from a sword blow as they closed about and lightly tugged on her nipples. But that wasn't the only sensation that shot through him for the tips of her fingers had lightly touched the base of his cock causing his whole large body to quiver. Spittle fell from his thick lips to land on her cheek and in his excitement he licked it away before closing his lips over her ear. In response to his slobbering mouth and the probing tip of his tongue a shudder rippled through her and a soft stuttering moan issued from her lips. Her fingers tightened on the circumference of his thick cock squeezing him, her head lolled up and back thus allowing his lips and tongue to trace across her face. Continuous rumbling purrs like that of a lion cub vibrated in her throat as his lips, his tongue moved over her face before centering on her mouth. Turning her face even more to his her mouth opened to accept his probing pointed tongue. For a breath, maybe two, the fingers which had been tightly gripping him relaxed their hold. But hardly had they done so before along with them again tightening she sucked hungrily on the tongue which had slipped past her lips and into her mouth. Her responding fingers, like her mouth, instead of simply squeezing him began moving slowly up and down the length of him that wasn't between her legs. Through the mist surrounding her she looked down at the two figures.
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The smaller, slighter figure, hers, was lying with her back pressed to the larger. Gwindor's? She felt the longing, the need, the arousal of the smaller figure as the larger, with his arm draped over her, tweaked and stimulated her breast and nipples. Mesmerized she watched as the smaller, along with turning her face up and back welcoming the kiss of the larger, began stroking him. Though she hovered above the two figures she felt, she actually felt the unbelievably hard member between her legs rubbing against her pussy. She heard the faint whimpers of pleasure and arousal breathed into and swallowed by the mouth of the larger. She felt, oh how she felt, the growing heat surging through the body of the smaller as the larger figures fingers teased and tormented her breast and nipple. Then suddenly it was as if she had been struck deaf for no whisper of sound touched her even though it was obvious that the smaller still moaned soulfully. With disbelieving eyes he stared thunderstruck as the smaller squirming figure willingly and without hesitation or protest acceded to the larger. Disbelievingly she watched as the huge bulk after getting onto its knees lifted and adjusted the smaller in like fashion before it. A strange tingling sensation raced through her floating etherial form as the smaller, after opening its legs wider, pushed back to meet the larger. She felt, oh how she felt the unbelievably long hard cock press against then slowly begin to push into the smaller figure. Like a thunderclap the smaller figures pleading scream to be taken, to be continually and repeatedly used burst upon her ears and reverberated through her skull. Her etherial form shivered and pulsed with the thrill, the joy, the wanting of it as the two figures at first slowly then faster moved against each other. With a tremendous writhing of the slight body a scream, that also held a soulful plea to be allowed to pleasure the larger for all eternity shook the very heavens. No sooner had the words of supplication and plea of eternal subservience filled every pore of her ethereal being then the mist cleared.
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At first she refused to believe or accept what had been revealed to her but the truth was undeniable. Below her and still moving against and giving voice to pleasuring in all ways and for all eternity was not, as she had supposed, her to her beloved Gwindor, but her to the grotesque monstrously huge orc. Together with her eyes flying open and her lithe frame stiffening a gasp burst from her throat. With the speed of an arrow shot from a bow she suddenly slipped from the orcs encircling heavy arm and rolled several feet away. With the gracefulness of a mountain lion she whirled to face him. Her breath came in ragged gulps as along with holding her arm out in front of her as if to ward him off she violently shook her head. Other then propping his head up he made no move. He simply looked at her, his eyes taking in and appreciating every detail of her virtually naked body. In her haste to get away from him, through no fault of hers his long sharp fingernails had caught on her thigh length tunic. All that remained was a small band about her waist, that except for its raggedness looked like a wide belt, and the sleeves. What remained might as well of not existed and yet for reasons that he couldn't explain when combined with the leggings he had earlier fixed for her the effect on him was highly stimulating. What might have passed for a smile touched his lips for instead of trying to cover herself or run away she was returning his stare. Her eyes though were not on his face, they were on his foot long cock which was as almost as big around as her wrist. For long minutes neither moved, then every so slowly along with raising to a sitting position he held his arm out to her. As softly as he could in a guttural mockery of the elven tongue he hissed Come, princess.
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Come, Moglig. His purpose was not to frighten her but to stress his dominance. She was his captive, his slave to treat and to do with as he wished. If she did not already realize that she at least suspected that whether she lived or died or what became of her was by his whim. From her panic he knew that she was aware that he wanted to breed her. Also written on her face was why he wasn't forcing himself upon her. He himself wasn't sure why he didn't. After all he was bigger and stronger. Perhaps, he thought, it was because he wanted her to come to him of her own free will. To accept him as she would her elf lover or husband. Why that was so he wasn't certain, for such had never before been the case with any other female that he had known. And he had known many be she orc, elf or human. But with the certainty of his desire images of her willingly coming to him flashed before his eyes. Blinking away the images he again fixed his eyes on her. He realized a moment of pleasure as she slowly climbed to her feet and moved toward him.
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Stopping maybe a foot from him she slowly raised her open hand. For a moment she paused before with a slight mental shake of her head and a spreading of her fingers she placed it lightly upon his hairless bare chest. As she did so his arms snaked about her. Together with his large hands, each encompassing a butt cheek, pulling her tighter to his massive bulk, he lowered his head to her bare breast. A whoosh of air was expelled from her lungs and a soft purring sound vibrated in her throat as his mouth and tongue teased first one then the other of her nipples. With a lightness, a tenderness, that surprised even him, his incisors nipped and tugged on her nipples even as his thick pointed tongue flicked against them like a whip. Her back arched thrusting her breast upward to his broad slobbering mouth and a moan slipped from her lips as his fingers tightened on her buttocks pulling her tighter to him. Her head lolled back as together with her body melting against his a long stuttering groan spilled from her lips. When for a second his face lifted from her of her own volition her fingers cupped hers breast, presenting them, offering them to him while squirming against his huge hairless bulk. As his greedily slobbering mouth again covered her breast a shudder as if from a cold wind raced through her and her hands sought his shoulders for support. Heat and the inexplicable terrible need to be taken, to be savagely and animalisticly used by the grotesque orc filled every pore of her being. Never, never had such feelings, such need, such want filled her when she had been in the arms of her beloved husband Gwindor. Why? Why hadn't these feelings consumed her before she silent screamed as the monstrous orcs teeth and tongue continued to tease and torment her nipples sending ripple upon ripple of pleasure through her. Even as a brilliant burst of multi colored light exploded in her brain and spread to every nerve ending in her comely frame a voice sounded in Moglig's ears. Jerking his mouth from her trembling quivering body he looked about for the voices source.
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Yet even as his eyes told him that but for the two of them there was no one else, the voice again rang in his ears and vibrated through his skull with a clarity as if the Master himself were standing beside him. Tease her, toy with her, make her want. If you do this Moglig I promise that soon, very soon she will come to you. Maybe not tonight or tomorrow, and maybe not even the day after, but she will come to you. Without reservation and knowing no shame she will accept and take you onto herself. You will become her all and even more precious to her then life itself. To know, to feel the rapturous pleasure derived from your touch she will forsake heath and kinsmen. Her only and every desire will be to give you pleasure in what so ever manner you wish. And from her womb will come the one that will bring about the total and complete destruction of her race. .
