And so you're taken in the stark cabin

The witch begins to thrust in earnest. Her first couple of pumps are slow, feeling you out. But you've already molded to conform around her member, so there isn't much need for her to ease you in. And so she very quickly tightens her grip on your muscled hips and becomes far more rhythmic in movement.

"Oh wow..." The woman sighs in breathy sexual relief. The sort of deep, completed release that reminds you of your mother. How the brown-skinned woman would speak to you on those nights father would return home late from hunting. The elven matriarch wouldn't even break her conversation with you, untying her mate's loincloth and sheathing him without the need to look, her instincts honed from years of deep intimacy and repeated breeding.

"Fuck... I thought you'd be all loose inside, given the size of the cocks your males have. But no!" The woman actually in the room with you punctuates her musings with an especially hard thrust, that you can feel send ripples through your arse. Pleasant ripples, and you unwittingly whimper in appreciation. "Oh fuck, you're so tight! You fit like a glove. Do all of you orc bitches stretch to fit your mates? Good girl."

The witch caresses your buttock with those last words, but her others have already brought your mind back to your mother, and that's who's caress you feel. Tingles dance through your core and you ponder the question. It could make sense, but then there's your mother and the rest of her kind. In the male tribes, you aren't really taught how female orcs work. It's relatively rare for the female clans to come into contact, at least with your tribe. But who needs them? The breeding pens contain enough cunt to keep the population going. What you do know is that Elves magically fit their mates. Bond with them. Mother can take all thirty inches of father's masculinity without it hurting. Could an orc female? Is this normal, or has your mother's blood forged you into a perfect fuck-slut?

Could I take all that?

Why does that thought sound so good? Why does that thought feel so good? Why does _this feel _so good?

You don't know where that thought came from. You refuse to accept it as true. But in fighting that invasive thought you loose your footing in the battle to hold in your moans. That was a battle you didn't know you were having. For too many moments the slut-cries of a warrior turned bitch fill the room and the echo back to taunt you.

"There you goooo..." The voice that is not your mother's coos. "Good girl"

You feel your cunt shiver once more before you steel yourself. You use all of your warrior training to re-centre your body and regain control. Isolate your body's feelings, know them. Only then can you control them. You close your eyes, and focus.

The most demanding feeling is the penis deflowering you and the growing pressure, primal in nature, that it is suffusing your core with. Next, are the witches hands, her weaker gripping purchase on your wide hip. Her dominant sinks into the taught flesh of your arse and kneads it almost absently. The last screaming feeling is the pendulous weight of your tits, they shake below you, dancing in sync to the rhythms of your coupling. They ache blissfully, incomplete in a manner you deliberately ignore.

You hate that these all feel so exquisite. How can your pleasure of your body betray the pride of your mind so greatly? You bundle them up and return to where you've felt safe in this place. Thoughts of your mother. And something clicks.

Was this how she felt? That first time. She'd always been open and honest about how your father **** her, that first night. Now, she seems to look back on it fondly. That elven magic? Or was it the love for her children that re-framed her life? Was she scared that first time? Did her body betray her?

You imagine her, clothed in torn rags that barely cover her large bust or soft crotch, as she is pushed to the rough dirt floor by the hulking figure of your father. You try and put herself in her place as she/you watch with wide eyes as his equine cock penetrates you so deeply you can feel it when you breathe. She/you struggles, only to be held in place by a single meaty hand enveloping both of your wrists.

Those thoughts are delicious. You let yourself moan this time. The molten pleasure radiating from your cunt begins to send sparks to the tips of your limbs.

Your mother is taken with the same rhythm as you are. She/you stare into the eyes of your father above her/you. He roars as you would hear him do years from then, as he floods your mother with seed. Mother is his. Or will be. Despite the fear and betrayal of the moment. Your mother is the strongest, kindest and wisest person you know. She would tell you that this is this is okay. It will be alright.

That you're allowed to enjoy your body, even if your mind is horrified.

You open your mouth with your eyes. And choose to enjoy the sensation of the moans escaping. They don't upset you any more.