Brute wins the day and you take a prize as well

You grab the rope strangling you in one massive hand and tug it viciously towards you with all your strength. The two humans are braced and ready for this, but you're just too strong. That one pull yanks them both off their feet, sending them tumbling into a heap in the dirt. Seems like they don't have much idea how to handle your kind. It'd take way more than one little rope and a pair of scrawny pinkskins to hold an Orc down.

With the pressure on your throat easing, you struggle back onto your feet, gasping for air. Your fangs are bared in a vicious snarl, blood running hot in your veins. A flicker of movement from the corner of your eyes it the only warning you get, but even that's enough for you to stumble back, narrowly avoiding a dagger thrust at your chest by the elven archer. You swing an arm wildly, slapping her hard across the face with the back of your hand. Just like that, she collapses in the dirt, eyes rolling back into her skull. She's no match for your strength. No puny pinkskin is.

Your scrabbling fingers find the rope digging into your throat, and with a vicious yank of your hands, you snap it in two. You roar in savage triumph as you're freed, the fury of battle filling you up with fire. You've never felt this rage before, but those in your clan who'd seen combat spoke of it. The flames in your heart, filling your body with the strength to fight and the fury to show no mercy to your enemies.

Down there in the dirt, the two humans are struggling to rise, whimpering in terror at the sight of you, and you hear shouts and footsteps from further down the path. Your body urges you to fight, to tear every puny pinkskin limb from limb with your bare hands, but even in this haze of fury you remember just how many there were in that slaver caravan. No matter how angry you are, you know you don't have a chance of killing all of them.

The fire in your veins demands one last thing of you if you are to flee. You must take a trophy of your victory and there's one obvious choice. Snarling viciously, you reach down a hand to the elf lying limply at your feet. She's light enough for you to lift with just one arm, and you sling her under it, then turn to lope away into the trees.

More shouts and angry footsteps echo through the trees behind you, but you know no slaver has a hope of tracking you through these woods. You barge through the undergrowth like an angry boar, but your path has purpose, taking you over a stream and through a copse of thick bushes that will hide your passage. Then you loop back around, taking one of the many familiar routes back to your lonely cabin. By now, all sound of pursuit has died away, and the only noise is your hot, panting breaths and the crackling of branches as you **** your way through them.

You burst into the sheltered grove where your cabin is, limp elven archer under your arm. The fire in your blood isn't cooling in the slightest, and you're grinding your teeth in thwarted rage. You want to feel blood dripping down your arms, taste it on your fangs. With a flick of your wrist, you toss your **** burden on the grass in front of your hut. Panting hard, you gaze down at your prize.

She's quite pretty, with sharp, pointed features and long, flowing blonde hair tied into a braid. Your hot gaze drifts over her body, covered in rough leather armor that doesn't quite manage to disguise the slight curves of her tits. Her legs are bare under a short skirt, the skin of her thighs pale and smooth as virgin snow. Just like that, you find the fire inside you flaring even hotter, but the mounting urge is not to kill the beautiful elf. Instead, you feel that aching heat settle between your legs, demanding you take your prize and use her for your pleasure. You've heard of this as well, the way the battle rage can turn to lust when the fight is done, to ensure the victorious Orcs replenish their numbers. Knowing that doesn't help you fight it though, not that it even occurs to you to try.

You kneel over the elf's **** form, a low, hungry growl emerging from your lips. Your massive hands find her chest, groping at the two small mounds there. It's not nearly enough, and in moments you've grabbed her leather armor in a vicious grip and torn it clean off her, ripping it away in strips. Her pale chest is bared, smooth and creamy, but to your frustration there's some kind of white cloth strip wrapped very tightly over her tits. You pull at that too, tearing it away and tossing it to one side. Just like that, her two squashed pale mounds spring back into shape, quivering and jiggling on her chest. They're much larger than you thought, almost as big as your own, which on her slender frame makes them look massive. She must have been binding them, no doubt to make pulling back her bow a little easier. Each soft mound is perfectly round, with a stiff pink nipple protruding from the smooth flesh.

With another hungry growl, you grab at them, taking each fat tit in one large, green hand. Your fingers dig in, sinking deep into soft white meat as it bulges between your grip. You shudder at the delicious feeling of naked flesh in your grasp. It's been a very long time since you've mated, and all your previous partners were Orcs from your clan before you were separated. This elf is just so very soft by comparison, her snow-white flesh like silk under your hands. You've never felt anything so smooth and perfect as these lovely, fat tits. It makes you want to strip her bare and see what other treasures her ugly leather armor hides. One hand still playing with her tits, pawing and squeezing at each in turn, you reach down the other towards the leather skirt over her hips. You grab it in a firm grip and pull, snapping the flimsy thing off her body and letting it drop open.

Underneath, she's wearing a tiny pair of silky white panties with a frilly hem, a rather odd contrast to her otherwise practical gear. Smirking to yourself, you reach for those as well. You think you'll want to see her in them again, so instead of destroying the soft underwear, you slip a large finger into the hem and slowly pull them down her delicious legs. You're breathing hard, skin tingling in anticipation as your hungry gaze bores into the soft, white skin of her thighs, waiting for the moment her pussy is bared.

Just like that, her pale blue eyes flicker open, staring blearily up at you. For a moment it looks like she can't quite understand what she's seeing, her face slack and dull. Then her gaze narrows and you feel her tense under your grip.