Chapter Three

Cha pter Three

A shadow moves overhead as Captain Ironstorm walks us inside, the roof of the arena providing cover. At least that’s what I assume because the only things in my eye line are the ground, my bound wrists, and a green orc butt. I’m too exhausted to struggle or look around for more. There’s a pause and what sounds like a door opening, the dirt floor giving away to stone as we go inside.

Once the door closes behind us, two voices begin speaking. They’re both in Orcish, so I have no idea what they’re saying or what Ironstorm’s response is. But it sounds like it could be the two women from earlier, before the match. My body flushes, seeing as they’re probably just at eye level with my ass. My ass which currently feels like a sloppy mess. I feel what I think is his cum ( god, I hope it’s just his cum ) start to leak out and by reflex tighten my hole, hissing at the sudden pain. Oh yeah, I’m also really fuc king sore .

There’s more talking and then he’s chuckling about something and patting my ass, making me blush more. Can he just put me down so I can curl up and die somewhere, please? Thankfully there are only a few more exchanges, the two of them say something in unison that Ironstorm repeats back, and then I hear feet shuffling, a door closing, and we are alon e. I hope.

Ironstorm walks farther into the room with me before I feel his arm coming across my back, holding and lifting me as he lowers himself to the ground and sets me on my own feet. My knees buckle when I try to stand, and I stumble forward, bound wrists grabbing onto his still-naked form to steady myself. Fuck, my legs are like jelly. I immediately try to correct myself only to fall again , making the orc chuckle as I cli ng to him.

“Easy.” His voice is soft as he puts a hand on the small of my back to steady me.

“ ’m fine,” I mumble. I’m not even sure I believed that. I mean I’m as fine as I can be after... My face heats up again as I remember what happened out in the arena.

He doesn’t respond, only helps to keep me from falling. There’s a stone ledge I can lean against, and once he sees that I can balance on my own, he leaves me and I finally have a chance to see the rest of the room. It’s dark, not pitch black, but the only lighting seems to be candles, a lot of them grouped together on a few different surfaces in the room. Other than that, though, it actually looks pretty similar to the room I was in earlier. Maybe this is where he got ready? There are a few differences. No couch, just a few chairs, and instead of a large mirror taking up one of the walls, there’s only a single sta nding one.

There’s also not a bath, but a shower, and the ledge I’m against divides it from the rest of the room. Well, it’s really a small indoor waterfall, but I assume it serves the same purpose. We have one at home, but it was always such a pain in the ass to heat up the water first, and it always ran out before I was done. I jump—and almost fall again—when I feel a hand on my waist. Ironstorm has finished whatever it was he was doing. It hits me again that I have no idea what’s supposed to ha ppen next.

Following closely behind, the orc guides me to the falling stream of water, and given the state of my lower body, I have little choice but to move with him. He’s slow and careful, especially once we step onto the wet stone sunken into the floor a bit deeper than the rest. The water is warm as it splashes onto our legs. Moving in front of me, he pulls my body flush with his and turns us both directly under the water.

I struggle to hold onto him but manage not to shout in surprise, mostly because the water isn’t cold. After a few seconds, he turns us again and sets me back down. I try, very carefully, to stand on my own again, tentatively balancing on my own two feet. Ironstorm is still. I can feel his eyes on me but can’t bring myself to lo ok at him.

After seeing that I’m steady, he leaves me again. I shiver a little in the cold air, but nearly jump again a second later when I feel his warm hand on my back holding a soapy sponge. Thinking he’s going to hand it to me, I lift my hand only to have him run the sponge along my chest himself, his other arm wrapping around my back as he steps closer to support me. That finally has me looking up at his face, and I am surprised by the warmth I find looking b ack at me.

In the flickering lights of the room, I watch the wet, furred outline of his muscles ripple as he slowly runs the sponge along my chest, arms, and stomach, occasionally switching to his own. He has a leg on either side of my body, his cock pressing against my lower stomach. His body feels hot, even under the warm water, and I can feel his breath against the side o f my face.

He moves closer in front of me, pulling our soapy bodies together and running the sponge along my back. Our chests slide together, his coarse body hair scratching against my own. His hands move farther down until he reaches my ass, rubbing slow circles along each glute. Then, dropping the sponge on the stone ledge, he brings his still-soapy hand to my rear. His slippery digits roam up and down my ass for a moment before moving to the center, delving between my cheeks. I whimper as a finger strokes over my sore hole, hearing another chuckle and feeling a soft kiss on the top o f my head.

The fingers return to my hole, gently washing away the stickiness gathered there. I bite my tongue rather than make more noises, but my cock is already betraying me. There’s no way he can’t feel me pressing against him. He bends to reach down farther, cleaning the rest of his sticky spend from the backs of my thighs, our bodies continuing to slide against each other. He runs his hands up my back slowly as he straightens himself, still keeping me pressed ag ainst him.

Grabbing the sponge again, he moves to stand behind me, wrapping an arm around my stomach. He moves down as he scrubs along my thighs and waist, slowly inching closer to but never actually touching my cock, which is more than half-hard and pointing down at an angle. His own hardening length presses against my soapy ass, and I fight the urge to grind back against him. When the sponge-filled hand finally reaches my shaft, it’s another fight not to hum p forward.

He soaps up my cock almost methodically, grabbing me with his free hand and spreading the soap up and down my shaft and sack. I say nothing as my cock grows to full hardness under his touch, biting my lip when he kneads my balls slowly, taking the sponge to my inner thighs. I can feel his heartbeat when we’re pressed together like this, his breath hot again st my ear.

What… What is this? I have been in a grand total of zero relationships in my life, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t how they norma lly start.

Why is he treating me like a lover? Is that what we are now, after...that? After he knocked me to the ground, stripped me, and... I wince again as my hole clenches in pain, remembering the violation in vivid detail. Vivid enough that my cock twitches when I recall some of the more pleasurable moments. I shut my eyes, trying to will away my erection, suddenly not sure I want him aware that I enjoyed my earlier treatment.

The sponge is gone, replaced with something I can’t quite make out in the dark. The arm around my waist moves to grab my bound hands, bringing them up to my chest. As the object is brought closer, I catch a glint of it in the candlelight—a knife. I go still, holding my breath as the blade slices through the wet cloth tying my wrists together. As it falls to the ground with a wet thud, the knife is gone, green hands already soothing my irrit ated skin.

I’m spun around and a hand under my chin lifts my gaze to his. Even in the dim light of the room, I can make out the soft brown of his irises. I can feel myself panting. I can feel a lot of things right now: his warmth, his muscles, his hard cock grinding into me. But not anger, or even desire really. Just that same strange tenderness peeking through. I close my eyes without thinking as he leans down and his lips touch mine, returning his gentle kiss slowly. He turns us together once more under the stream, rinsing the soap from us as the water cascades down o ur bodies.

One of his hands drifts down to the swell of my ass, cupping it gently before squeezing it tightly. At the same time, he deepens our kiss, his tongue swiping forward into my slightly parted mouth. I whimper and open my mouth farther, wordlessly asking for more. He doesn’t disappoint, the thick muscle of his tongue plunging into my mouth. My hands move to wrap around his neck, and I finally allow my weight to relax into him.

I lose track of time as we kiss under the water, his beard scratching against my own as my nose makes the occasional bump into his tusks. It’s a lot easier to kiss with those than I would have guessed, but he’s probably had some practice. The fur on his stomach rubs gently against mine, his hands roaming up and down my ass and back. I am openly rutting my hard cock against his. The warm water feels like it’s washing away all the soreness from m y muscles.

When he finally pulls away, I actually whine , like a puppy. That earns me another chuckle and a short, chaste kiss before he moves to disentangle us. I’m steadier than I was a few minutes ago but still not sure what I should be doing. I follow him to the edge of the shower area where he grabs a very large towel from a nearby table. It looks like the rest of our clothes are there too. Well, his clothes, my underwear, and the ripped-up rags of my shirt and pants. Someone must have brought them in when we were... Well I guess I’m just letting everyone see everything today. You know, I’m not even sure I have any shame l eft in me.

I don’t know why I’m surprised when the orc starts to dry me rather than hand me the towel to do it myself. Once he’s done with me—and he’s very thorough—he uses the same towel to dry himself. I stand there, unsure of what to do with myself while he sits and begins to redress. There are small torches on this end of the room, and with the distance between us, I’m able to make out the various tattoos covering his body. Dark bands wrap around his upper arms while smaller symbols dot his shoulders. Across the left side of his chest is the shape of a large, solid black sword, crossing down from his shoulder, the blade jagged in the middle. He catches me staring at him, and I quickly turn away, looking for my own clothing. Seeing as I only have the one thing to wear, I reach for my unde rwear and—

“What are y ou doing?”

I freeze at the question. “Getting dresse d?” Right?

“I told you—those are mine now.” He nods at the thin layer of cotton that is my und erclothes.

Is he serious? “What am I supposed to we ar, then?”

“Hmm. I suppose we will need to buy you some new clothes.” To replace the ones he ripped up?

“What do I wear until then?” Am I supposed to wait here while he goes shopping? “What... What is this? What’s happening r ight now?”

He considers me for a moment. “I apologize. I was not sure if your ignorance was authentic or not. You will be coming with me.”

“For the night?” I cross my arms, becoming more aware of my nudity the more he get s dressed.

“Yes, but you misunderstand. You are coming with me indefinitely. You now belong to me.” The fuck?

“What are you talking about?” Belong to him? “Do you mean what happened out...there? That was—”

“It is simple,” he cuts me off as he reaches down to tie his boots. “You lost the battle and are now mine. I own you.”

“The hell you do!” What the fuck is this orc talking about!? “That is not what I signe d up for!”

“No, apparently you signed up for a death match.” He stands, instantly towering over me. “Is that what you would prefer?” The threat is empty, but it does the trick.

“I—”

He steps even closer. “I know I was rough,” he cuts me off again, hand reaching out to stroke my cheek. “But surely you found it more enjoyable th an dying.”

“Th at’s not—”

“Here. This should be large enough for the time being.” He turns and grabs his leather tunic, practically forcing it over my head. I struggle in vain but quickly relent, sticking my arms through the holes in the shoulders so I’m not helpless. It’s fairly large on my frame and just long enough to keep me decent, though I wouldn’t trust any str ong winds.

“Can’t I at least wear my—”

“No.” He stuffs my former underwear in his pocket like it’s the final word on the subject. “Come now. You can have your shoes, and then we’ll get this on you.” He turns to reach for an item on the far side of the table I somehow misse d earlier.

“What the hell is that ?” I ask, knowing full well w hat it is.

“A collar. Are you n ot famil—”

“ I know what it is! ” I snap. I know I asked— shut up . “I am not wearing that!” A sudden realization comes over me. He wasn’t showering with me like a lover. He was bathing me, like I’m some kind of— “And I’m not your fuc king pet!”

“Call it what you like, but you are mine .” He walks toward me, collar in hand, the amusement quickly draining from his face.

I take a step back as he comes near me, and I start thinking about potential exits. I can make out a door behind him, and there’s the way we came in on my right. There was also a third door in my room, the one the ladies exited through, but I don’t want to chance looking behind me for it. Arena it is. Dammit, this is gonna suck without my boots but... I make a break for the door.

I hear a sound of confusion behind me, but I don’t look back, throwing open the large wooden door and bolting through. I can see freedom at the end of the tunnel in front of me, sunlight streaming in through the archway. The doors of the gate are open, and I can use the crisscrossing beams on inside of them to climb out of the arena. Piece of cake! Now I jus t need to—

The bolas wrap around my ankles in an instant and send me flying face-first to the ground. I skid along the dirt, my arms taking the brunt of the damage as I come to a stop. I try to lift myself up, but I can already hear the footsteps behind me. Flipping onto my back, I watch the orc captain draw closer before he squats over my p rone body.

“That was very stupid.” He holds me by my elbow as he inspects the damage from my fall. “Nothing too bad. I can take care of these when we get ho me. Come.”

I only glare in response. Expecting to be helped up, I squawk indignantly when I’m thrown over his shoulder again. Once we’re back in the room, he sits me on the clothing table, cords still wrapped around my feet. The first thing he does is bind my wrists again, this time behind my back with leather bracers attached by a ring. I’d like to fight him, but I’m not sure how I would. After that comes the collar. I glare daggers straight in his eyes as he buckles the leather around my neck. Finally, he untangles my feet, replacing the throwing weapon on the wall he grabbed them from. I didn’t consider those when I made a bre ak for it.

“Alright, one last thing.” He stands after lacing my boots, grabbing a final item on the table.

“Oh, fuck off .” It’s a leash. The collar is one thing but a leash?! I try to wriggle out of his grasp.

“Quite the mouth on you.” He grabs the back of my neck and quickly attaches the leash to the collar. “I cannot exactly trust you not to run of f, can I?”

He stands in front of me, leash in hand, looking way too satisfied with himself. He is of course shirtless, and if it weren’t for the collar and leash, it might not be blatantly obvious that I’m the one wearing his shirt. The lower half of my thighs are exposed, as are most of my arms. I look ridiculous. And I can’t stop glaring at that fuck ing leash.

“Okay. Let us get you home.” Ironstorm ruffles my hair like a fucking kid before helping me off the table. Leash still tight in his hand, he pulls me to the door and leads the way t hrough it.

We’re back inside the arena, same as when I was brought in. There are a few orcs milling about, and when they see us exiting the room, we get some cheers. Self-conscious, I try to use my bound hands to pull the tunic down farther, but after giving his audience a wave, Ironstorm is already walking away. Not wanting to risk being dragged, I try to keep pace, though once we are outside, the distraction of the city makes that difficult.

We’re getting plenty of stares, but I do my best to ignore them, instead focusing on the city around me. The buildings that line either side of the street are all made of wood and stone, the architecture a lot less crude than I would have expected. I mean, you hear the words “orc camp,” and you picture everyone living in tents. But this isn’t that unlike the last town we stayed in. The style is different: the lots aren’t packed together, and I don’t see a building taller than two stories, but I don’t know how you could possibly mistake this place for anything other than civ ilization.

I notice a familiar building on my left—the jail—before Ironstorm turns right at the next road, looking back to make sure I’m following. He’s been occasionally glancing back at me the whole time but for the most part seems content to lead in silence. Fine by me. I don’t wanna talk to him anyway. Even though I have a million questions about where we are and what we ’re doing.

Like how big is this city anyway? I haven’t seen a lot of it yet, but I can probably figure it out. The arena is the largest building I can see, which probably means it’s toward the center of town. There’s a tree line along the city’s outskirts, meaning we’re in the middle of a fairly thick forest. I think it’s maybe a mile away from us? Maybe less. It’s kind of hard to tell because those trees look...really big. Like, tall, taller than trees normally grow. I swivel my head around, and in the spots I can peak through between buildings, the trees look just as large. They’re like that almost all the way around. I can see a mountain range far in the distance ahead of us, so I’m pretty sure we’re fac ing north.

Alright, if the arena is in the center, and we’ve walked about four bloc ks so far—

I slam into the body in front of me, which has come to a stop without my noticing. I bounce off, shouting in both surprise and distress as I struggle to keep my balance. I shut my eyes as I tumble to the ground, unable to brace for the impact with my immobilized wrists. This is g onna suck.

Imagine my surprise when a thick, muscled arm catches me behind my shoulders.

“You really should be more careful.” I cautiously open one eye, though I already know who’s going to be looking down at me. “Do you not think you have spent enough time lying on the ground for one day?”

I huff in anger but say nothing as he helps me stand. Just another glare. If he thinks I’m gonna thank him for that, he can go fuck himself. Still, we’ve stopped in front of a house to our right, so I guess tha t means...

“We are here,” the orc announces. It’s a modest-sized house, single-story just like rest I see in the area. A single wooden door adorns the front with two square windows peering out on either side of it. He walks to the front door, leaving me little choice but to follow him past the wooden fence into the yard. He reaches into his pocket to pull out a ring of keys, unlocking the door and ushering me inside.

“Welcome to my home.” He shuts the door behind me, placing his key ring in a drawer. “I suppose it is now your home too.”

I’m not sure what I expected, but it’s as nice as any other home I’ve been in. To the right of the entrance is what I’d guess is the living room. It’s sunken into the floor, a few steps on either side of a couch leading down into it. There’s a fireplace along the wall and in one corner an armchair nestled between a pair of bookcases. In the other corner lies… a large pile of pillows and blankets?

Directly across from the entrance is a kitchen, a small wood-burning stove in the corner with a series of stone counters and shelves to its left. On one of the counters, closest to the living room and door, is a small wooden clock. In the opposite corner is a small wooden table that could sit four people if you really squeezed. I see a few doors that could lead to other rooms or maybe just a closet or pantry.

The difference that sticks out the most to me between this place and a human’s home is the furniture. It’s not that I don’t recognize it; it’s just constructed differently. The tabletops look like tabletops, but when you get to the legs, instead of wood that’s been cut and sanded, it’s like it was bent into place, bark and all. Same with the chairs and the couch. It makes for a very interes ting look.

“Come, I will show you around.” Leash still in hand, he starts his tour. “Can you read?” He points to the bookcases in the li ving room.

“Of course.” I’m no t a child.

“I have met many humans who cannot read.” He actually looks a little impressed. “Most of those are not in your language, but I do have a few you might enjoy when you are bored. I visit the bookshop quite fr equently.”

“...Thanks.” Who cares if their slave g ets bored?

“That is the kitchen. I do a lot of cooking, so you can expect to spend some time there.” He points out the kitchen as he walks past to a short hallway situated between the two open rooms. At the end of the hall are three clo sed doors.

“This is a spare room.” Ironstorm lifts one hand and places it on the door to our left. “Right now, it is just a bed and some storage, so nothing you need to worry about. This door—” He actually opens the center door and steps aside to let me see in. “—is the lavatory. You are free to use this as you need, no permissio n needed.”

Why the hell would I ask permission to use the bathroom? Although... Is that an indoor toilet? How rich is this guy? My family still uses an outhouse. Most families back home still use outhouses. I also notice a tall stone basin and a large wooden tub for washing. This is some relatively f ancy shit.

“And finally, this—” He closes the bathroom door and moves to open the final door on the right side of the hall. “—is my bedroom.”

I’m actually ushered inside this time, though Ironstorm only stands in the doorway. The obvious focal point of the room is the large bed raised on a wooden pallet against one wall. It’s bigger than any bed I’ve ever slept in, and the head and footboard are made of the same bent natural wood as that of the rest of the furniture. The headboard even has leaves on it. Other than that, there are a couple of small tables, one next to the bed and the other in a corner alongside several large chests, one of which is open and stuffed with clothing.

I turn around facing him, uncertain of what he expects now, the fact that we’re in a bedroom not lost on me. He’s looking at me like he wants me to say something. “...You have a lovely home?” Is that what you usually tell the person holding yo u captive?

“Thank you.” He smiles, and my stomach picks that exact moment to rumble. I’ve barely eaten today. “I guess I should start din ner then.”

I follow him back into the living room, but as he enters the kitchen, I clear my throat. “Um. Do you think you could take off the...?” I face away from him and wiggle my ti ed wrists.

“Of course.” He moves to stand behind me and unbuckles the straps on the cuffs. I rub the feeling back into my skin as he places them on the smooth stone countertop. “Here, let me take care of the scrapes on y our arms.”

I watch as he reaches onto a shelf above the counters and pulls out a small basket with some bottles and white cloth. Taking one of my arms, he opens one of the bottles and pours the liquid onto some cloth. I hiss at the sting as he dabs over the irritated and torn skin—alcohol to clean the wounds. He repeats the process on my other arm before rel easing me.

“What about this?” I tug on the collar, but he’s already walking awa y from me.

“I am not terribly fond of that collar, but I am afraid it stays on until we get a replacement.” He places some firewood in the stove and uses some nearby flint to light it. “Probably tomorrow.”

“Seriously?” I don’t want a replacement. I wa nt it off.

“Is it bothering you?” He closes the stove and w atches me.

“Yes. I don’t like it.” Of course it’s bot hering me.

“Is it irritating your skin or making it difficult to breathe?” He rolls his eyes and turns back to pull things of f shelves.

“I guess not?” Kinda wish this thing would choke me.

“Then you will be fine until we get your replacement.” He places a few jars—spices or some kind of pickled vegetables—on the counter, turning away from me to open a large stone chest. I look down. Other than the collar, I’m still wearing his tunic and my boots.

And my hands are free.

I look back up at the orc as he stares down into the contents of the chest, deciding on what to do with whatever is inside. I look behind me to the front door. The front door that he did not lock after w e came in.

I think you see what I’m gettin g at here.

Very quietly, I inch my way to the door, my eyes locked onto Ironstorm’s form. He’s bent down into the chest now, the sounds of whatever he’s got in there scraping together as he moves it around. Once my hand is on the doorknob, I turn it ever so slowly , until...

* click*