The Tale of Kordoth: Part 4 – The Captured Diplomat

Kordoth’s troops were amassed in a makeshift camp. They were a couple days’ march from the city of Enyanahil but had stopped marching for the night. During their march, the orcs had captured a small handful of elf maidens, all of them fleeing refugees. The orcs had acquired only a couple dozen elf maidens, and there were long lines of orcs waiting for their chance to fuck the captives while the orcs rested for the night.

Kordoth was in the center of camp, studying a map of the kingdom. They were deciding where to attack next after they sacked Enyanahil. Some of his clan’s forces would stay in the vicinity of Enyanahil, to block off any elves that tried to escape Argothrond into the adjoining kingdom of Senadorei. But the rest of his forces would head somewhere else, to attack more defenseless cities or towns, or collect more refugees trying to feel to safety. As Kordoth’s officers discussed their options, Kordoth was in a sour mood. Regardless of what decision they made, none of the options would bring him the glory of a great victory. Each day that Kordoth’s campaign continued only increased his bitterness towards Grimnor. And increased his desire to see his rival’s downfall.

As Kordoth met with his officers, he heard someone approaching. He turned to see a half dozen orcs leading a stripped elf maiden through the camp in Kordoth’s direction. Kordoth gave the group a curious look. The elf maiden was stripped naked but she was not bound. With her hands unbound, she was covering her breasts and her crotch. Though she was untied, it appeared she had been roughed up a little; she was covered in mud and tear stains were running down her cheeks. Still, she appeared to be in much better condition than most captured elf maidens. She was attractive too, with red hair, piercing blue eyes, a nice set of tits, and nice curves. Which made it even more puzzling that she did not look thoroughly ravaged.

“Why is this slave not bound?” Kordoth asked as the orcs approached.

One of the orcs stepped forward. “She said she is a diplomat with a diplomatic message, so we brought here to you without enslaving her,” the orc replied. “She came with a sealed scroll from Queen Thaconia of the Kingdom of Alyoshara; it is for Grimnor.” The orc held out a scroll and Kordoth took it.

The elf maiden spoke. “My name is Itireae and I am a cousin of the Queen. She sent me to negotiate the release of her sister, Princess Laerdya. Her voice was trembling; she was clearly afraid that the same fate would befall her that befell Laerdya. Korodth surmised that the fact that she was here suggested she was not aware that it was Queen Thaconia who had deliberately delivered Laerdya to the orcs to be enslaved. “I protest how I am being treated. My guard were killed and I was stripped. I came under diplomatic flags!” Itireae continued.

“We killed your guards before we knew you were a diplomat,” one of the orcs escorting her said. “And we had to strip you to make sure you weren’t hiding any weapons,” he added, smirking.

Kordoth looked at the scroll. “War Chieftain Grimnor Longtooth” was written on the front. Kordoth broke the wax seal and opened it. It read:

War Chieftain Grimnor:

Your victories against Argothrond have been impressive. However, if you were to attack Alyoshara, the outcome would be very different. Argothrond’s power and military might pales in comparison to ours. Furthermore, as the most powerful elven kingdom, Alyoshara could easily unite all of the elvish kingdoms in a united front against you. It is in our mutual interest to reach an agreement, that will allow you to collect more slaves than you will ever need from other kingdoms without our interference and to avoid bloodshed between your horde and my kingdom. I implore you to meet with me to discuss the terms for such an arrangement. You will be given safe passage in my kingdom for such a meeting.

As a token of our potential alliance or armistice, I deliver to you another slave, my cousin and a duchess of our kingdom, Itireae. I trust she will make as fine a slave as my sister did.

-Queen Thaconia of Alyoshara

Kordoth chuckled as he finished the letter. He turned to the orcs and pointed to Itireae. “Have this slave collared. Then introduce her to slavery.” Itireae let out a dismayed wail as one of the orcs grabbed her by her hair. Another grabbed her wrists and held them behind her back and began to bind them. Now that she was a slave, she would not be permitted to cover her nudity with her hands and arms. Her body and all its parts were now orc property and for full display. The orcs began to drag her off, ignoring her panicked protests.

“Wait,” Kordoth said. “On second thought, not only collar her but get a slaver to brand her. The standard slave brand on one thigh and my personal brand on the other. I am not sending this one to Ulylthemar. She will be travelling with me as my personal slave. After she is collared and branded, deliver her to my tent. I will personally give this slave her first slave rape.”

The orc nodded and resumed dragging the sobbing elf maiden away. Kordoth looked again at the scroll and then tossed it into the campfire. Grimnor would not be receiving this message.

………………..

The orcs Othok, Bughmar, and Uggug were circled around Ynaselle, cheering as she lewdly danced. Ynaselle was perched on a rock and had spent the last few hours being trained to “dance like a slut.” Apparently, these orcs liked being entertained by their slaves almost as much they enjoyed fucking them. And for Ynaselle, as humiliating as it was to dance like a slut in front of these orcs, it was much preferable to being fucked by them.

Ynaselle danced like she had been taught, swaying her hips suggestively and turning her body, presenting it to the trio of orcs. Then she picked up the pace and begin shaking her ass and tits. Her ass cheeks clapped together and her small breasts bounced and jiggled as she shook and swayed her body for the orcs. There was no music to dance to, just the crude cheers and hollers from the orcs.

Ynaselle had been made to dance for hours now, and she was exhausted and sweat ran down her body and gave her flesh a shiny appearance.

As she continued swaying her hips in circles, Ynaselle bent over at the waist to give the orcs a nice view of her ass. She reached back, spreading her ass cheeks to give them an even better view of her asshole and pussy. She released her ass cheeks, sliding her hands up her sides and cupping her breasts, pushing them together and presenting them for her orc audience’s view.

Ynaselle then fell to her knees. She began crawling around on her hands and knees, wiggling her ass. She crawled over to Othok and then laid down on her back, pulling her legs back to her chest and then spreading them wide, giving the orcs a view of her swollen, dripping slit. Ynaselle slid her hand down slowly down her body, from her breasts down past her belly and between her parted thighs. She began to masturbate, rubbing her clit and moaning loudly before plunging a couple fingers in and out of her pussy. Ynaselle began writhing around and continued moaning loudly as she played with herself, doing her best to put on a show for the orcs.

Ynaselle felt so humiliated. In only a couple days’ time, she had been stripped of her innocence. Stripped of her dignity. Stripped of all hope. She could not believe she would spend the rest of her life being violated and degraded in such humiliating ways. But she understood that she had no say in the matter. She just had to do what the orcs said to minimize the abuse he received. Ynaselle continued fingering herself until an intense orgasm rocked her small body and she cried out as her pussy spasmed around her thrusting fingers. She clenched her eyes shut as she cum, and when she opened them again, she saw the three orcs leering at her, lust in her eyes. She knew what they wanted and what they expected of her. She flipped over and got on all fours, her ass raised in the air, so she could be fucked. Her cheeks reddened with shame and she trembled. She did not want to be fucked but she knew she had no say in the matter; she was a slave. She closed her eyes again, waiting for the inevitable.

Bughmar got in position behind her, grabbing her hips. But before he could drive his cock into her, she heard loud barking, off in the distance. She opened her eyes and looked past Othok in the direction of the sound. Two orcs came upon them, riding on giant hounds. The orcs rode right up to Ynaselle, the hounds growling ferociously, and the orcs jumped off their backs and pulled the hounds back. One of the orcs turned to Othok, Bughmar, and Uggug, and began to speak. “My name is Mogrel and this is Grulnamub. We are from the Dread Tusk Clan have been tracking a runaway slave, the daughter of an elven baroness from Omylelin that we enslaved.” Mogrel pointed to Ynaselle. “Our hounds picked up her scent and that is her.”

Ynaselle’s head dropped. She had feared the worst for the fate of her family and the other elves in Omylelin, but this was confirmation that they had all shared in the same fate as her, falling victim to the orcs.

Uggug stepped forward. “We are from the Red Axe Clan. We found this elf cunt. You say she was a runaway, but when we found her, she was not branded or collared. In fact, she was dressed and being escorted by a male elf. She was no runaway slave. We captured her and enslaved her ourselves.”

Mogrel shook his head. “She was from a city our clan slacked. But she managed to slip away before we sacked the city.”

“Then if she slipped away before you captured her city, she was not yet enslaved. She is no runaway slave. We captured her fair and square and by capture rights, she is our slave,” Othok growled.

“We were commanded by our chieftain to take this one back to our clan,” Grulnamub said.

“The chieftain of the Red Axe Clan has no authority over us,” Uggug said. He slid his hand down to his sheathed sword.

As soon as he did, Mogrel suddenly reached for his own sword. He drew his sword faster than Uggug and plunged it into Uggug’s chest. Uggug let out a dying scream as the sword stabbed him through the chest. Roaring, Othok and Bughmar went for their weapons, as did Grulnamub. Grulnamub charged at Othok and the two began hacking at each other with their swords. The two orcs’ swords smashed into each other but Grulnamub was the better fighter and after a few swings he caught Othok’s hand, slicing off several of his fingers. Othok screamed in pain and his sword fell to the ground. His scream was cut off when Grulnamub swing his word again, chopping off Othok’s head.

Mogrel had pulled his sword from Uggug’s chest and he was engaging Bughmar. They were evenly matched and their swords clanged together repeatedly, but then Grulnamub joined the fray, and the two orcs from the Dread Tusk Clan overpowered the single orc from the Red Axe Clan. They began hacking Bughmar to death.

Ynaselle remained on all fours, her eyes widened in horror as the three orcs were killed in front of her. Mogrel and Grulnamub stepped over to her. She was covered in a few spatters of blood from the orcs they had just killed but they could tell she was quite pretty.

“A nice little catch we got,” Mogrel remarked. Ynaselle was still in position to be fucked, and Mogrel crouched down behind her and began to push his cock inside her. “She is nice and tight and her cunt is real slick,” he remarked. A moment later, Grulnamub was crouched down in front of Ynaselle and pushing his cock past her lips and into her throat.

As the orcs began thrusting away from each end, Ynaselle realized she did not care that these orcs had killed the ones that had previously captured and enslaved her. It made no difference to her.  The orc pounding her from behind, stabbing into her pussy, felt the same as the orcs from the other clan that had fucked her. The cock driving in and out of her throat, gagging her, tasted the same. She cared not which orc clan claimed her. She knew her life as a slave would likely be the same regardless.

Mogrel and Grulnamub fucked Ynaselle until they both loudly climaxed. Then they bound her wrists and threw her over the back of one of the hell hounds. The orcs mounted their hell hounds and then they rode off, back to Dread Tusk Clan-controlled territory.

………………..

Inside Kordoth’s tent, he was sampling his new slave. Kordoth grunted as he thrust into Itireae’s ass. Her sobs and squeals mixed with his grunts as he thrusted away. He had fucked her cunt earlier, and his cum was still oozing down her thigh. In between fucking Itireae’s cunt and ass, he had slashed her back, ass, and tits with a slave whip until they were striped red and bleeding. Now that she was covered in welts and cum was leaking from her battered, swollen pussy, she looked like a proper slave, a far cry from the naked but mostly unmarked captive that had been brought to the camp. Kordoth thought it was always good to introduce a slave to her life of bondage by fucking all her holes and giving her a hard whipping, so that she understood her purpose and how vulnerable and helpless she now was, and how little control she now had over her own fate. For former royalty like Itireae, who had lived a sheltered life of luxury, it was even more important to drive this home early.

Kordoth groaned as he climaxed, dumping a second load into his new slave. He pulled his cock from Itireae’s now gaping asshole. “Turn around and suck my cock clean, slave,” he ordered. Itireae moved slowly; she was exhausted and her whole body was in pain. Slowly turning around, Itireae stared with disgust at the softening cock that had just been in in her ass. But she entire body still stung fiercely from being whipped and she did not want to be whipped again. She opened her lips wide and leaned in, taking the cock into her mouth. She began licking and sucking it clean.

When she was done, Kordoth ordered her to kneel. She sat on her heels, spread her knees wide, and placed her hands on her parted thighs, being careful not to touch the fresh brands that now marked her thighs and still burned fiercely with a searing pain. She lowered her head, staring sorrowfully at the whip marks striping her breasts and the ugly red brands on her thighs.

Kordoth stared down at his trembling, red-faced slave, admiring her beauty. “Tell me slave, why is it that your kingdom’s queen is so keen on making a deal with the orcs? If her kingdom is so powerful, why does she not work to unite the elves to try and defeat us? Would that not be the honorable thing to do?”

“Queen Thaconia is not governed by any sense of honor. Everything she does is to further her own self-interest or ambition. She must have decided that secretly working with the orcs was the safer bet to preserve her own power and freedom,” Itireae said, bitterness in her voice. The bitterness was understandable, Kordoth acknowledged. Itireae was now a branded slave with orc com oozing from her swollen, sore orifices because of Thaconia. Itireae would not spend the rest of her life like this because of Thaconia.

“And why should the orcs trust such an elf? If she betrayed her own sister and cousin, why should we not expect her to betray us when the opportunity is right?” Kordoth said.

“You cannot trust her. The only thing you trust her to do is to act in her own interest or for her own benefit,” Itireae said.

Kordoth pondered his next action. After a few moments, he went to a wooden chest at the back of his tent. Opening the chest, he withdrew parchment and an ink and quill. He brought them over to Itireae and placed them down in front of her. “Slave, I want you to write a message to your former queen. Tell her that you were captured and enslaved but that the orc who captured you informed you that the War Chieftain Grimnor will never make a deal with her. That Grimnor's only plan for her is to crush her and enslave her. But tell her that your new Master is a powerful orc and that she and I have certain mutual interests and can work together. Tell her that I will meet with her, in secret.”

Itireae began writing.

………………..

They had arrived. Grimnor stared ahead at the high walls and towers of Argothrond’s capitol of Kaalhone. The city was still several miles away but the massive and sprawling city loomed over the horizon. Grimnor had sent Urzkhal to deliver the orcs’ term of surrender. The terms were the same they had offered very other city: a complete surrender, in return for the promise that a very small percentage of males would be spared and the female elf maidens that were not soldiers would be spared the two worst types of slavery: as a hard labor slave or a broodmare.

Grimnor did not expect the elves to surrender. The terms were certainly brutal and cruel. But he knew that eventually, the elves would come to see that fighting the orcs was completely hopeless and that their only choice was to surrender to receive the slight sliver of mercy they would not otherwise receive. When the elves in the other kingdoms saw the orcs crush Kaalhone, then perhaps that would be enough to make them begin surrendering. Of course, that would require the orcs to decisively conquer Kaalhone. But Grimnor had a plan for just that.

Urzkhal returned to the camp and straight to Grimnor. “The elves have refused our terms for surrender,” he informed Grimnor.

Grimnor nodded and smiled. “Then let us start planning our attack.”

(End of Part 4, to be continued...)

The art in this story is by the artist, MercyMagnet. Please support this talented artist by viewing and subscribing to his Subscribestar page.