Diplomacy...

The whole of the camp has come to life, especially now that the Chief has risen and come out of the tent. He moves about everywhere, directing orders, supervising, and inspecting, with seeming no time to stop. Additional tents are being raised up, makeshift flags of the Stonefoot Clan are being raised. Cooking fires for the day have started, but there seems to be more of them than normal. There could be some sort of feast or superstitious festival to their ancestor spirits, but that wouldn't explain the need for the extra tents. The warriors of the tribe are sharpening their weapons and practicing, even hiding their weapons through the camp. That really isn't necessary. You begin to wonder what could possibly be going on. With no obvious answers, you retreat back into the sanctuary of the Chief's tent. Neither he nor the other orcs command you to engage in these kinds of activities. First, much of them require Orcish strength and sensibilities that, no matter how long you live among them, you will not have. Second, and perhaps more importantly, that isn't your position. Despite how chaotic it may appear from the outside, each member of the tribe has a specific purpose, often multiple ones. They know that purpose and do it for the benefit of the rest. You fit into this dynamic as well, as you have one specific purpose, for one specific person. Pleasure, for the Chief.

Today, that rule will be bent.

As the midday heat begins to fill your shaded tent, you begin to hear a sound in the distance, like a far away thunder. It slowly grows, and begins to be matched with great drums, and finally deep horns. As the horns bellow, you hear the entire camp begin to scurry into even more frantic activity. The war drums of the Stonefoot are banged to meet the arrivals. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you leave the Chief's tent and it's safety. Lingering just outside, you are able to see the events as they occur. A warband from another Orc clan has come, with their Chief, and is met by your Chief and his strongest warriors. As the two meet, there is a hushed and tense silence.

"Bas'gal, Chief of the BloodEye, you come bearing the tools of war" Your Chief bellows for all to hear.

"Trusk, Chief of the Stonefoot, I must, for war is what we are. Created to fight a war not of our choosing."

"Discarded by those who made us, and yet we survive." The two exchange parts in what seems a ritualistic speech

"When our very survival is an act of defiance, **** is inevitable."

"May every orc stand against his enemy, and stand along his brother"

"And may he always know which is which"

The exchange completed, the two hug each other strongly, met by fanfare on both sides. Both Chiefs lead the way into the camp. Filled with a new sense of fear that you have not felt in some time, you retreat back into your tent and wait for whatever may come. Chief Trust enters alone, but stands in the entrance, beckoning you.

"Pet, you will come with me. There is something you must meet, and something you must do." With nothing else said, you follow immediately behind Trusk into the larger, newly constructed tent. In there as well is Chief Bas'gal, alone. His skin, like that of the rest of his clan, is an ashen gray. He is slightly shorter than Trusk, but not that you would immediately tell with him sitting down. He takes immediate notice of you, and apparently loves what he sees, as you watch his cock grow into an erection quickly.

"You know how to great an old friend Trusk. You have taken a beautiful prize"

"She came willingly. We found her wandering in the middle of the night. Naked and alone."

"You're kidding" Bas'gal responded

"It's true" You speak up. Both Chiefs look at you in surprise for speaking out of turn

"You teach this one our tongue, and let her speak for you as if she were Chief?"

"I taught her so that she may better obey, a lesson she may yet need to remember" The two speak as if you've turned invisible

"I would not worry greatly about it. Disobedience can have some benefits, and besides, we are here to celebrate and trade, not bicker over who has the better pet."

Trusk finally sits down, next to Bas'gal. You see his erection beginning to grow as well. He is anticipating something, but you don't know what. "Very true. I do wish to see what you have brought with you."

Bas'gal responds without a word, with two thunderous claps. Shortly after, his soldiers push two naked figures into the tent with you. Dark Elves, amazingly, you had only ever heard rumors about them, scary stories to frighten children into behaving when you were young. They look as regal and slender as their normal elf cousins, their white hair shimmering like spider silk. As beautiful as they are, something seems wrong. You had always heard of them as strong, vicious, and spiteful of all other life. These two look vacant of all of that, vacant of nearly all thought. The empty stare of their purple eyes fall on you, and they quickly descend upon you, touching and kissing every part of your body.

Bas'gal crosses his arms across his chest in smugness, seemingly having brought the superior 'gifts'. "My raiders had caught them unawares. It took a long time for our shaman to break their wills and mold their minds, but patience is rewarded. How long did it take you to break your ****?" The two Chiefs watch this display with glee. You find a way to get out of the reach of the dark elves, who begin to merely fondle each other.

Trusk responds with a swelling of pride as well "I didn't have to. She wanted to live among us. She submitted willingly the first moment she felt Orc cock inside her. She'll do whatever I tell her because she wants to serve me, and she'll serve you too, because I tell her too"

"Really now?" Bas'gal thinks on what he has been offered, both as a gift as well as a test. You understand as well; you've been given over, for now, to serve whatever sexual demands this other Chief has.