I am no stranger to being owned by a male, but my new master is something I never imagined…

In my years in the Tarbert household, I have learned my worthlessness, and I pray that being sent with my distant cousin on her way to her new marriage might grant me a chance at some value. I see that hope disappear when our small party is attacked on the way to the wedding…by orcs.

I never imagined the old legends to be true, but I cannot deny them now; these primitive beasts have stolen me and can do what they wish with my body. But one…one protects me. He takes me as spoils of a wager.

I know what I must do: I must make him value me so he will not share me with the others. I must be bold, brazen, and hope he claims me as his own. Why does such a thought not fill me with dread?

Warning: Another super-spicy, instalove romp featuring the Harlot's Guide's list of positions.