Chapter Five

Ch apter Five

I wake up slowly, barely hanging on to the threads of a dream. Something about birds? I snuggle into my pillow. This bed is so warm. Haven’t been this comfortable in months. Maybe I can convince Adam that we should stay in town anothe r night...

Then I feel the arm around my waist tighten, and my eyes fly open when I remember that I’m not sleeping at an inn with my teammates. A glance down at the green, muscular limb confirms that, yep, I’m still in Captain Ironstorm’s bed in the middle of...wherever here is. I should probably ask about that when he wakes up.

It would seem at some point in the night we both migrated to the center of the bed. Or, seeing as I’m still tied up, he probably grabbed me after I fell asleep and pulled me here himself. Whatever. The sun is up and so am I, and thanks to these cuffs, I can’t exactly go anywhere. Some quiet time to thin k is nice.

I run through yesterday’s events in my head. Everything started so normally. After a shitty breakfast of beans and jerky by the campfire, we packed up and started looking for that cave. Then everything went to hell. Getting knocked out, waking up in the jail cell, the fight in the arena... What happened right after the fight in the arena.

What was that? Not what we did—I know what sex is. I mean my reaction to it. Not only did I barely try to fight him off, I was hard before he even finished stripping me. Hell, once I was naked, there was no attempt to fight at all. Pretty much the exact opposite.

Look, maybe there’s been a time or two in the past where I’ve looked at a guy a little differently than I’m supposed to, but never like that. I’ve never imagined getting tied up, or stripped, or... fucked out in the open. Certainly not by a stranger—an orc . But even thinking about it now is making me want to grind my morning wood into the mattress.

Some movement at my back reminds me why I won’t be doing that. Ironstorm shifts in his sleep, his arm tightening around my waist again as he pushes his knee forward between my legs. His own hard cock grinds against me, and I bite my tongue to hold in a hiss at the contact with my sore ass. Fuck.

The spanking... That is something I wouldn’t mind forgetting. I haven’t been spanked since I was like nine years old. Maybe longer. And never that hard! He’s like some ass-slapping expert. Fuck, if I had been spanked like that as a kid, I’m not sure I’d even be alive right now. Sitting down today is going to be a pain in the ass. Heh .

“Mmmf.” Distracted by my own stupid joke, I fail to hold in a whimper when there’s another shift behind me.

I go stone still, holding my breath before realizing that will be even more suspicious. There’s more movement, then the arm around me goes slack. Things are still, at first, until I feel his hand drifting up and softly rubbing my stomach. Then he dips down, carding his fingers through my pubic hair before wrapping them lightly around my shaft.

I can’t help but hump forward a little at the contact, biting my lip and hoping to pass it off as involuntary. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, his fingers still wrapped around my dick, stroking softly, slowly against the smooth skin. His touches are light, almost too light, bordering on ticklish. They probably would be if they were on any other part of my body. But he seems content to keep playtime relegated to my dick, and I’m finding myself surprisingly okay with that.

“You know, some people might consider it rude to make me do all the work.” I jump when the voice whispers in my ear, immediately batting his hand away and rolling forward off the bed. I stand by the bedside, unable to do much more than glare thanks to the chain still connecting me to the headboard. None of that seems to faze him, lying there in all his glory with a shit-eating grin on his face. Stupid sexy orc.

No, not sexy! A n asshole!

“I am hungry. Are you hungry?” He scoots across the mattress toward me and stands, acting like none of that just happened, like our dicks aren’t pointing at each other right now. He reaches down to unlock the chain from my cuffs, ruffling my hair and walking out of the room.

What the hell was that?

I hear the telltale sounds of someone peeing, and when he doesn’t come back to the room, I figure I should follow him...after I wait for my hard-on to go down. Which I had before he started touching my dick! Once my perfectly-normal-to-have-first-thing-in-the-morning erection goes away, I follow his lead and relieve myself before padding out to the living room. I think about wrapping myself in a sheet, but what would be the point? He clearly intends to keep me naked.

The stove is already lit, and I can see the captain standing over it, pouring something into a pot of water. It looks like ground oatmeal. Is porridge still a thing? I guess I’ll find out. My stomach growls. I bet my teammates are hungry too. What am I doing thinking about breakfast? I need to get out of here. I look down at my still cuffed wrists. My last two escape attempts didn’t exactly work out. I’ll have to bide my time and wait for the opportunity to present itself. And in the meantime, I can try to learn more about where we ar e exactly.

“Can I... Can I ask you some questions?” My request has him poking hi s head up.

“I suppose that would be alright,” he answers while stirring the contents o f the pot.

“Where are we?” I’m mostly just curious; anyone I could write to for help is an ocean away. “Like, what’s the name of the city?”

“ V’rok’sh Tah’lj ,” is what I think he says. “Though you may find that difficult to pronounce. It translates to ‘home among th e trees.’”

“Vorekish Talj?” I repeat back the b est I can.

“Close enough,” he responds without loo king over.

“What about your name?” Ironstorm can’t be his first name. At least I hope not.

“What about yours ?” Touché .

“Cerano.” It’s not like holding onto it was doing me any good. “Davi d Cerano.”

“Cerano. I like that.” My name rolls off his tongue easily. “I am Khazak Uzi’gar.”

Yeah, I’m gonna butcher that . “Can I call you Zak instead?”

“No. You will refer to me as Sir or Captain.” His tone leaves little room to argue.

“I thought your last name was Ironstorm?” Gonna just blow past that sir nonsens e for now.

“A rough translation of Uzi’gar .” He looks over his shoulder at me. “Human tongues seem to have problems with our language, at least from your part of t he world.”

“Human tongues are just fine.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Maybe your language is just overly com plicated.”

“Yes, perhaps.” Sarcasm. “Anyth ing else?”

“What happens now?” I wrap my arms around myself, feeling a sudden chill. “Like, is this it? Am I just yours forever?” Stuck in this town in the middle of nowhere for the rest o f my life.

“More or less.” He takes the pot off the stove while he speaks. “You are mine until I decide to rel ease you.”

“And I’m guessing you’re not planning on doing that anytime soon,” I sigh, mostly to myself.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” he jokes as he empties the pot into a shallow bowl. Just the o ne, again.

“My friends—”

“Are in jail.” He moves to the table and takes the same seat he did last night, pushed away from the table, leaving his lap open. “C ome. Eat.”

“I’m not sitting on your lap again.” I eye h im warily.

“No, I suppose your ass is a little too tender for that right now.” I hadn’t actually thought about that until he just men tioned it.

“I more meant because I’m a grown man .” Why can’t I have my own seat?

“You are free to kneel on the floor instead.” He spreads his legs and gestures to the spot bet ween them.

“Seriously?” I grit my teeth. “Fuck off then. I’m no t hungry.”

He cocks an eyebrow and taps his fingers on the tabletop, reminding me a lot of my last drill sergeant. “I am fairly certain the entire city heard your stomach growl earlier, so I know that is a lie. I was happy to let us sleep in some today, but we do still have things to take care of before it gets too late. So you can either take a seat where I have told you, or you can spend another day with your arms bound. One that will start with you being force-fed a cold b reakfast.”

I squeeze my hands into fists and think about fighting him. Then my stomach growls again. With a sigh, I step into his space, lowering myself to my knees in front of him. I figure this will be less humiliating and save my sore ass from some pain. When Ironstorm adjusts his seat and I look up, I see I’m only h alf right.

The first thing I notice is my proximity to his dick. Is he always this naked at home, or is it because I’m here? His legs are spread wide, soft green cock against one of his thighs. It would be really easy for him to grab my head and... Maybe I should have gone with the lap. Oh fuck, how long have I been staring at his dick? My eyes shoot to the floor.

“Maybe I can feed you some of that later,” the orc laughs and takes a bite while my face burns. Lifting my head to retort, I am greeted with my own spoonful of what might be oatmeal. With a sigh, I allow myself to be fed. I’m surprised when the flavor that hits my tongue is savory and not sweet. Not bad. More finely ground than oatmeal and a little creamy. He can cook. I wonder if he’ll ever let me...

Stop thinking like you’ll be here long enough to get comfortab le, David.

The rest of breakfast is eaten in relative silence and finishes rather quickly since there’s not much to it. He helps me to my feet and guides me by the shoulder to the bathroom to clean up. I’m still not over the fact that orcs actually brush their teeth, but I guess when you have tusks, dental care is pretty important. Before we exit, Ironstorm grabs a small jar and pushes me to th e bedroom.

“Get on the bed and lay on your stomach.” My hackles rise instantly.

“What? Why?” I turn to face him. He’s not about to beat my ass again for not sitting on his lap or somethi ng, is he?

“Calm down.” He holds both his hands up in front of them, one of them holding the jar. “I just want to put some of this salve on you. It will help with the soreness.”

I eye the small container warily but allow myself to be turned around and bent over the bed. I prop myself up on my elbows, looking behind me as Ironstorm opens the lid and uses two fingers to scoop out a glob of white. I hiss at the coolness as it touches my inflamed skin then try not to whimper as he spreads it around with both hands. It seems like he’s trying to be gentle at least.

“Lay there for a moment while it dries.” He rubs his hands together as he steps aroun d the bed.

“What are we doing today?” I ask as he starts rifling through one of h is chests.

“First thing is getting you some clothes. I do not have much that will fit you.” He pulls out a long-sleeved shirt and holds it aloft before mumbling to himself. “I think this belonged to my brother. Or maybe m y sister?”

Good, he can replace what he tore off me yesterday. “T hen what?”

“There is some paperwork we need to fill out in regard to our current situation and the ritual yesterday. Then we need to make one last stop at a shop run by a friend of mine.” He holds up a pair of shorts big enough that my waist could fill one of the legs.

“You guys have a word for paperwork?” I’m pretty impressed with h is Common.

“ Hr’klor .” He tosses the clothes in front of me on the bed. “Which directly translated means ‘s ad wood.’”

I bark a laugh. “Sad wood?” I can’t tell if he’s joking, but I really hope he’s not.

“Poetic, yes?” He deadpans and bends over, finally unlocking my cuffs and starting to dress himself. “I know these will not fit well, but it is only for the n ext hour.”

I push myself up with a sigh, grabbing the shorts first and pulling them on. I’m swimming in them, and if it weren’t for the rope belt around the waist, there’s no way they would hold up on their own. The fabric is a little rough on my ass, though I’m not sure how I’d feel about wearing underwear right now to be honest. The shirt fits a little better, but the arms are too long, and I have to pull them up at my wrists to stop them from covering my hands.

“Probably need new shoes as well.” He examines the worn-down sole of one of my boots before handing it to me with some oversized socks. Not gonna complain about new shoe s, either.

“Do I get to use my hands today?” I ask, probably a little too smartly, while I tie my laces.

“Are you going to behave today?” he asks as he buttons his shirt.

“Yes.” There’s that eyebrow aga in. “Sir.”

He smiles at the title. “As long as you do not give me a reason otherwise, your arms may remain free today.” He grabs the discarded cuffs from the bed and puts them in a leather pouch slung over a corner of the bed. “These will be coming with us, so that can change at any time.”

“...Yessir.” I try not to glare daggers at the bag. The threat is cle ar enough.

I watch as he finishes straightening his clothes, and I attempt to do the same with mine. I look absolutely ridiculous in these. I really hope he’s not lying when he says I’m getting new clothes. Satisfied, he grabs the bag and slings it over his shoulder as we head into the living room. I move to the door, but he aims for the kitchen counter—and the d amn leash.

“Oh, come on,” I whine as soon as he walks toward me with it in his hand. “Why do I have to w ear that?”

“We are going to be walking around the city a lot today. I do not want you getting lost.” To his credit, he doesn’t sound like he’s fuckin g with me.

“I’m not going to get lost.” Why does he insist on treating me like a child? “Everyone will be staring at the human on a leash.”

“ I will feel better if you are wearing it.” He crowds me against the door and clips the leash to my collar before I can fight him. “Besides, I think everyone will be staring at you for entirely different reasons.” He steps back and looks over my “outfit” for emphasis.

I glare, seeing as the only reason I have to wear this oversized bullshit is because of him. Then he pulls me away from the door so he can open it, and we walk outside. He takes a right once we hit the road. He’s not moving fast, but I wish he was so I can hurry up and get out of this fucking get up. The rope belt is doing a really shitty job of keeping my shorts in place, and I have to pull them up more than once.

Between the distraction of my wardrobe and not wanting to make eye contact with any passersby, I don’t do a great job of paying attention to where we are or where we’re going. I just focus on Ironstorm ( Khazak? Sir? Asshole? ) in front of me and making sure my lower half remain s clothed.

At some point, I notice the amount of people around us growing and a quick look up reveals a street full of carts and stalls selling all sorts of things: clothes and fabric, what I’m pretty sure are fruits and vegetables (from what I can recognize), and even weapons–it’s an open-air market, same as we have back home. The stalls look different, fewer wagons and more tents, but it’s basically the same thing. There’s a lot of people around us talking, all of it Orcish, so I don’t really notice when one orc in particular calls out Khaz ak’s name.

He walks up and they greet each other loudly, like old friends. I can’t understand a word of it. It’s all smiles until the new orc notices me and what I’m wearing, and I wish the ground would just swallow me up right now. He says something—about me, I assume—to Ironstorm, who turns to look at me in response. I just stare at my feet. Did he have to run into a fr iend here?

I hear Ironstorm say something to his friend, then I’m being tugged along again. I look up and after passing a few more stalls, he enters a building with me right behind him. Standing in the entrance, I immediately notice two very detailed wooden mannequins to our left. I sigh in relief. A clot hing shop.

“I apologize for that.” He turns to face me and clasps my shoulder. “I did not expect to see anyone I knew here. I also apologize again for the clothing. I assure you—I did not choose it to intentionally humil iate you.”

“...Thank you.” I’m uncomfortable with the sincerity and eye contact, so I turn to look at the rest of the shop.

It’s not too large; there are a few tables with folded clothing on top, some shelves with more of the same, and a few more mannequins. They’re vaguely orc shaped, all of different builds and genders with the same level detail. It’s not their faces; those are all blank. It’s the rest of them—their bodies, the proportions, the musculature—it’s all very lifelike. Either the result of a very talented carver or magic.

A clerk behind the counter notices our entrance, walking over and speaking animatedly at both of us. She does a double-take when she sees my outfit and then says somet hing else.

“Do you speak Common?” Ironstorm asks before responding, gesturing to me a s he does.

“Oh, yes. How may I help you?” she asks as if it isn’ t obvious.

“As you indicated, we are in need of some new clothing for this one.” He clasps a hand on the back of my neck. “Some shirts and trousers.”

“Is there anything in particular you are looking for?” She looks me over as she asks. “Any colors in mind?” She’s speaking Common, but both questions are directed at the orc. I guess the collar and leash clu ed her in.

“Hmm.” He turns to look me over. “I am rather fond of blue, but green would match your eyes.” I shift uncomfortably at the comments about my a ppearance.

“I think I have some options you may like.” She turns and walks toward some of the clothing and begins pulling various articles from different shelves. “Could you bring him o ver here?”

Ironstorm turns to me and unhooks the leash before walking me over to the clerk. She holds up a few different shirts in front of my body, each a shade of blue, green, or brown. The first few are oversized, but she seems to figure it out. She puts the shirts down and from a pocket on her hip pulls out what I’m guessing is measuring tape. She quickly wraps it around my waist before dropping down to measure the length of the outside of my leg. Thankfully she doesn’t check the inseam, just turns to grab a few pairs of pants, mostly browns and tans. She stacks some of the shirts on top before handing me the pile.

“There is a changing area right over there.” She points at a wooden divider against one wall, her voice still directed at Ironstorm and not me. “Please let me know if anything does not fit well.”

“Thank you.” He gives her a nod of appreciation before guiding me to where she pointed, clothes in hand. I am not surprised when he follows me behind the divider and takes the clothes from my hands. There’s a large mirror against the wall.

“Go ahead and undress.” He nods to me with his arms full.

“Come on. I can try—” A raised eyebrow cuts me off, and with a sigh, I pull my shirt over my head. I throw it over a chair to my right before kicking off my shoes and bending over to follow suit with my shorts. No reason to fight something I know I won’t get out of anyway. Standing as nonchalant as I can, I hold one hand out for the first item, which ends up being a pair of pants.

“We, uh, didn’t get any underwear,” I point out, holding them in front of me but not stepping into them.

“We will be taking care of that later.” He nods at me to continue. I feel kinda weird about my dick flopping around in pants that aren’t technically mine yet, but I don’t really have a say in t he matter.

After the pants comes a dark green shirt with buttons down the center. I pull it on and start buttoning it up as Ironstorm sets the clothes down on the same chair. He looks me over while I finish adjusting, before I turn to check in the mirror for myself—not bad, honestly. Then I see his figure stepping behind me a nd I turn.

“It looks good on you.” He reaches forward to fix a button I missed near my collar. “I was right about your eyes.” He runs his thumb down the side o f my face.

I’m blushing more now than when I was naked.

This process repeats with another five shirts and three pairs of pants, all in varying shades and cuts. There are even some shorts that actually fit me. I wouldn’t mind if the shirts did more to hide the collar, though. Captain Ironstorm seems to like everything, or at least doesn’t have anything negative to say. After I hand him the last set, he hands me back the first.

“Go ahead and change into those.” He picks up the clown clothes I walked in here wearing and stuffs them into his bag. “I will not force you to wear these the rest of the day.”

“Thanks.” I give a genuine smile as I redress for the f inal time.

Gathering the clothes together, Ironstorm moves to the counter the shopkeeper has returned to, placing them a ll on top.

“Everything he tried on was perfect. We will take them all.” He reaches into his leather pouch, producing an even smal ler pouch.

“I would have to agree with you, sir. He looks wonderful.” She looks me over and smiles brightly. Probably more at the news of a sale than how I look. She sorts through the clothes on the counter and makes note of what I’m wearing before she starts to fold everything neatly. “I can do twenty-five gral for ev erything.”

“More than fair.” I watch as he produces two golden coins and five silver ones and drops them in her hand. They are all inscribed with symbols I wouldn’t understand even if I could make them out from here, but I can still tell what the coins are made of. It’s the same kind of money the rest of the world uses and more proof that they aren’t as primitive as we were led t o believe.

“Thank you very much. Should you have any more clothing needs, I hope you will return.” The shopkeeper happily deposits the coins in her own pouch.

Ironstorm gives a small bow after stuffing the folded clothes and his money back into his satchel. She must have been good at folding them since the bag doesn’t seem to be bulging out like I would expect. Or at all, really. Throwing it over his shoulder, he makes his way toward the exit. I turn and give the woman an awkward wave before chasing after him.

I guess I have a suga r orc now.