A night of rough use before he's returned to his Master

While the Shaman was not quite as relentless or insatiable as Shaharza herself, by the time she eased her softening cock from Marcus' aching butt after what had felt like hours of enjoying both his holes, the young slaveboy was limp and panting hard, his pale skin soaked with so much of her cum that several thick droplets trickled down in rivulets onto the floor beneath his shivering body. He was still bound, of course, the tattooed orc had only ever used him when he was wrapped in so many ropes as she could manage to fit around his naked body, binding his legs and arms until he was utterly helpless and hanging him like that from the roof of her tent at the perfect height for her cock.

It wasn't like he would have tried to struggle against her or anything, not now he'd recognized his real calling as a needy slut for thick orc cock, but...the tight restraints keeping him pinned in place as she ravaged him did add a certain extra excitement for the lustful boy. Knowing that he couldn't even move away, that she'd use his holes like this until the moment she was satisfied, was a thrill he was learning to thoroughly enjoy, and in his few idle moments he found himself fantasizing about asking Shaharza herself if she could tie him up next time as well. Though, for now, of course, he was the Shaman's property, and the tattooed orc was taking full advantage of the opportunity.

Over the course of that one day the warchief had traded him over for, she'd spent what felt like almost every waking moment with her cock buried in one of holes. Marcus' jaw and cheeks ached from the strain of having his mouth and throat filled with her thick shaft so often, the salty taste of her cum still lingering on his tongue and filling his every gasping breath. She'd taught him just how she liked to be sucked, how she liked him to lick around the head of her cock first, or for him to kiss and worship her heavy, dangling balls, before opening his mouth as wide as he could for her to stand over him use his throat as a sheath. As relentless as she was once she got going, the Shaman had seemed to remember every now and then to let him gulp down a gasp of air, but even still the young slaveboy's throat felt rubbed raw, hot tears still trickling down his cheeks from all the rough use of his mouth to mix with the thick cum she'd sprayed across his face.

Between his bound, trembling legs, his soft dick twitched weakly at the gaping, empty feeling the shaman's cock had left. All his own watery cum had been milked out of him a while ago in orgasm after orgasm as she thrust into his clenching butt. By now, his tiny, pathetic balls were drained, and when she'd still made him cum on her cock, his climaxes were dry, leaving him squirming and squealing in his bonds with the throbbing pleasure of cumming just from his butt, his dangling dick almost entirely forgotten.

Meanwhile, she of course, had been as insatiable as any of the orcs seemed to be, his guts filled from both ends by so much of her thick seed his pale belly was bloated outwards. Almost as much was sprayed across his bound, naked body, clinging to the strands of his silver hair, trickling down between the cheeks of his well-used ass from his clenching hole, and spattering over his back and shoulders from where she'd pulled out just as she'd came just to spray it all over him. Marking her territory, she'd called it, as if staining his body with enough of her seed would make him her **** instead of Shaharza's.

Marcus had done nothing to dissuade her of that, figuring that the possessive Shaman wouldn't exactly react well to being reminded that he really belonged to the warchief no matter how hard or how often another orc used him. Besides, a lewd part of him felt rather naughty and hot being covered in so much thick, orc seed, the hot sticky feeling as it trickled over his naked flesh making his skin tingle with excitement.

"Ancestors you feel just as good wrapped around my cock as the first time I claimed that tight hole of yours." The Shaman grunted, using one massive hand to shake her pierced cock, the last few droplets of cum trickling from the swollen head as her thick erection finally softened to dangle limply between her huge thighs. "I swear if I thought I had the strength to fight our bitch of a warchief, I'd challenge her just for the right to take you for myself." She frowned, her brow furrowing, as if she were considering doing just that anyway. Then, she tossed her head with a sour grunt. "Sadly the ancestors have gifted me in other ways to Shaharza, wisdom being one of them. I know I cannot stand against her. Still..." She reached out, taking a firm hold of the rope hanging above his bound wrists that kept him dangling helplessly in the fetid air of her tent. "I reckon I've fucked you hard enough it's me you'll be thinking of the next time that brute decides she wants to rut with you, right?" She glared at him expectantly.

Marcus let out a whimpering moan in reply, twitching feebly as much as the tight ropes allowed. With his sore throat and the throbbing ache of pleasure from his well-used butt still making it hard to muster words, he probably couldn't have answered her properly anyway, but it was better to be safe and not even try. Since, after all, he was sure that as soon as he was back in the hands of the Warchief, Shaharza would thoroughly remind him once again why it was her he really belonged to all along. Despite his exhaustion, the thought made him shiver with delight.

The Shaman seemed satisfied with that answer at least, because she neatly reached up and undid the rope tying him to the top of her tent. His body dropped, right into her other waiting arm. While she'd said she wasn't quite as strong as Shamira, the tattooed orc still hefted his weight easily under one arm, holding him there still trussed up and bound. Growling under her breath, the Shaman turned and strode out of the tent, utterly ignoring the curled up figure of her other **** still waiting meekly by the door. The girl had been almost entirely ignored while she'd had Marcus to enjoy instead, and while the young slaveboy felt kind of bad for stealing all her Master's attention, he wasn't about to complain about having her cock all to himself instead.

Outside the tent, the camp was as raucous and bustling as ever, the swaggering figures of the green-skinned orcs striding about with their thick, delicious cocks swinging between their legs always a distraction to the needy young slaveboy. Even so, Marcus couldn't help but notice they had started to make their settlement here rather more permanent. A ditch had been dug around the palisade wall, and he saw several sweating orc warriors starting to erect some sort of tall watchtower out of chunks of wood they were hewing apart with swings of their mighty axes. He remembered the conversation he'd overheard while he was under the table about the orcs wanting to settle here, and how his Master had used him to drum up support for the idea, even how he'd been traded to the Shaman to make sure of her backing as well. It seemed like the Warchief was wasting no time in establishing her tribe here, no matter that this was land that was supposed to be part of his father's kingdom.

Marcus felt an uncomfortable flicker of doubt at that, a fading reminder of the boy he'd once been. He **** that unwanted feeling aside, reminding himself sternly that he was an orc **** now, and he should be worrying instead about pleasing his Master's cock. He tried to relax in the Shaman's grip, as she carried him over the large, painted tent that was the warchief's. The tattooed orc stalked up to the entrance, than just casually shrugged him out of her grip, letting his bound body drop into the grass in front of the tent. Marcus let out a shrill gasp as he hit the soft ground, landing there on his side. He squirmed a bit in the ropes, but found no way to even shift himself onto his front.

"I've returned your pleasure-boy, Shaharza, as we agreed." The Shaman called out, her rumbling voice thick with disapproval at the idea. There was a rustling at the door to the tent, and moments later the Warchief ducked out, straightening to her full, towering height in front of the shorter Shaman. Marcus felt his heart soar at the site of the massive, muscular figure of his Master looming over him. No matter how pleasurable the Shaman enjoying him had been, he was still rather nervous around the tattooed orc, and it would be a relief to be back with Shaharza where he really belonged. He smiled up at her as her golden eyes moved slowly over his bound, naked body, keeping quiet but hoping his meek, submissive gaze would tell her as much.

"A little worse for wear, I see." Shaharza grunted. Marcus felt his heart sink, hoping his sorry state didn't displease her too much. "You could have at least had him cleaned up and given him some time to rest, it would have been more...respectful of the gift."

"You traded him to me for a day." The Shaman shrugged. "So I fucked him for a day. It is not my concern if your stamina cannot match such a feat."

"Careful, Urul." Shaharza snarled, flashing her long, gleaming teeth. "I'm still Warchief here, and ancestors' favor or not, you will respect me and my property, or I'll find another Shaman who does."

"Of course, Warchief." The tattooed orc lowered her gaze. "I must go see to the omens now. My night with the pleasure boy was most satisfactory, so I expect they will be favorable towards this course of action you desire, provided I can expect to enjoy him again soon?" She raised an eyebrow expectantly. Shaharza's lip curled, then she nodded once. Satisfied, the Shaman turned on her heel and strode away, heading back through the camp. The Warchief paused for a few moments, staring after the other orc with a thoughtful look on her scarred face. Then, she sighed, placing her huge hands on her hips.

"Fuck, never known her to be so agreeable." She chuckled. Her sharp eyes flickered down, settling back on Marcus, and he felt his heart soar at the smile she gave him. "Well done, little calf." She cooed, reaching down to gently grab him by the waist. The young slaveboy smiled eagerly as she lifted him up, hefting his weight easily against the softness of her ample chest. "You must have pleased her greatly, just as I knew you would."

"Yes Master..." Marcus murmured tiredly. He dearly wanted to rub himself against the warchief, to assure her he was ready to please her too and satisfy her wonderful cock just as well, but after almost a day of the Shaman's rough use he couldn't quite manage to sound as enthusiastic as he really should.

"Let's get you washed up." The Warchief nodded. Turning, she carried him back into the now-familiar interior of her tent, the looming trophies and war-great almost familiar and comforting to the exhausted young slaveboy. He glanced wearily over the cushions, looking for his mother. Sure enough, he saw her laying sprawled out in the corner, naked as he was apart from her collar and tattoo. Her soft legs were spread wide, thick rivulets of sticky cum trickling from both her lower holes, her ample breasts rising and falling with her panting breaths.

"With you away, your mother had to take the brunt of my lusts, as you can see." Shaharza explained, with a wry smirk. "Don't worry, she satisfied me well enough, though I still found myself missing having my cute little calf along as well." She patted his butt with her other hand, making him squirm in delight.

As the warchief carried him through into the tent, the former queen moaned tiredly, but raised her head from the cushions. A warm, loving smile bloomed across her flushed face when her gaze found him in their Master's arms, her blue eyes shining with relieved delight.

"Marcus...you're safe, my darling boy..." She breathed, squirming up to sit and holding out her arms as if she wanted to hug him close. Smiling back at her, the young slaveboy couldn't help but think that she'd never been this warm or loving with him in their life before the orcs.

"Get the water and brush, cow." Shaharza ordered, even the once-insulting nickname now tinged with a rough affection as she grinned down at the former queen. "We're going to clean off your son."

"Yes Master" The human woman struggled to her feet, standing on wobbly legs. With one last devoted smile at Marcus, she turned and stepped towards the back of the tent, slipping out between the fabric there. When she was gone, Shaharza gently lowered Marcus to the floor. The young slaveboy lay there quietly as the orc's rough hands wandered over his naked body, unfastening the ropes that had bound him for what felt like hours now and pulling them away in her hands. He breathed a sigh of relief as his arms and legs were finally freed, feeling his muscles ache as he stretched out his tired limbs.

"She tied those knots much too tight." The warchief clicked her teeth, tossing the ropes casually over her shoulder into the corner of the tent. "See, she's marked your pretty skin, that careless bitch." Her callused finger traced along his shoulder, where the rope had left a red indented mark down under his arm where the Shaman had tied it.

"It's alright." Marcus murmured. "She didn't hurt me or anything..."

"She'd be picking her fangs off the floor if she had," Shaharza grunted. "Not about to let some bitter old cunt rough up my pleasure boy, not when you're the cutest thing I've ever owned."

The young slaveboy flushed, feeling his heart skip a beat at her roughly growled words. Did...she really think that about him? His meek gaze flickered up to her scarred face, finding her simmering golden eyes. As their gazes met she flashed another toothy grin, one that seemed genuinely affectionate. Her huge hand slid up to his head, and Marcus shivered with delight as her rough fingers ran through the strands to rub and pat at his scalp.

A sudden sloshing noise from behind them interrupted her. Glancing quickly over his shoulder, Marcus saw his mother stumbling back into the tent carrying a large wooden tub full of water. She awkwardly set it down at the center of the room, panting with exertion, before kneeling meekly beside, her chest thrust forward to display her ample breasts. Her blue eyes found her son again, giving him another warm smile.

"Get in, little calf." Shaharza pointed to the water. "Let's wash that bitch's stink off you." Marcus nodded tiredly, just about managing to stand on his trembling legs. He shuffled over to the tub and climbed inside, the cool water soothing on his flushed, tingling skin. "You help me, cow, get some water over him." The warchief ordered, stepping over herself to crouch down beside the tub.

"Yes Master." The former queen nodded, scooping up handfuls of water in her cupped palms before gently trickling them over Marcus. Her soft hands lingered on his skin, gently soothing away the tired aches the Shaman's rough use had left in his muscles. Marcus gave her a tired smile, his heart aching with love for his mother as she carefully tended to him the way she never would have before all this had happened. She'd have left it to the maids or servants instead, only coming to talk to him to scold him over his studies or something like that. Well, knowing how much she cared about him was just another good thing that had happened to him since they'd become Shaharza's slaves. It was so much easier now that neither of them had to worry about running a kingdom or anything like that!

As his mother continued gently rubbing at his front with her soft, pampered hands, Shaharza had grabbed a rough brush from the tub, the handle almost comically small in her huge hand. She reached over behind the young slaveboy and scrubbed it across his back, rubbing away the thick cum still clinging to his skin where the Shaman had covered him in it. Marcus tried to keep quiet as the rough bristles scratched across his skin, the orc pressing down really quite hard, but when she rubbed the brush firmly over his sensitive side he let out a little yelp of pain.

"Shit, sorry..." Shaharza gasped, the brush jerking away in her hand. "Forgot how sensitive you humans are."

"It's...alright." Marcus stammered. He was hardly able to believe she looked...genuinely sorry as she hurriedly reached over with a hand to rub at the reddening skin the brush had left with her fingers instead. A huge difference from the rough, mean brute he'd imagined the day she'd dragged him out of his parents' castle on a leash.

"Got to remember to be gentler with you." The orc grunted under her breath. She lowered the brush again, rubbing it across his shoulders, only this time she was much softer with it. Marcus sighed with relief, relaxing into the tub as his mother leaned in to fuss over him, fixing his silver hair with her hands. His tired eyes flickered over the former queen's naked body, the way her huge boobs quivered enticingly as she leaned over him, and the gorgeous, flushed smile on her beautiful face. Then, the young slaveboy's gaze moved slowly over to his master, drifting across the rippling muscles of the warchief's massive body, bulging out from under her scarred, green skin. He supposed if he hadn't just spent the past day being ravaged by the shaman he might have found being bathed by the two of them rather arousing, and even now he felt a certain fluttering warmth in his belly as he admired Shaharza's huge, bulging shoulders, imagining her grabbing him and bending him roughly over the end of the tub.

Still, his tiredness felt rather more urgent than any other need of his body, so, no matter how much a certain needy part of him was longing to be fucked by the warchief in this tub, he relaxed back into the cool water with a soft, trembling sigh. The gentle rubbing of the brush down his back and shoulders, and his mother's soft fingers moving through his hair were all very soothing, and soon enough the young, exhausted slaveboy drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.