From Behind - You don't want to face what's happening to you

You can't quite come to terms with what's happening. But what you do know for certain is that you're naked, weak and **** in the middle of the forest. And the only person for potentially miles around is the all-powerful witch who's taken everything from you; there's no-one to hear you scream.

You know what she's capable of, and you can't fight her magic. So, unwilling to risk her anger, you silently let the smaller woman lead you into her bedroom with your head held low in shame. Once inside you can start to see how spartan the furnishings in this hut truly are. The singular bedside table and wardrobe are name of the same plain, untreated wood that the cabin's walls are. There's no carpet, the curtains are plain linen and the smell of oak lingers gently. With nothing to distract you, you can't help but draw your attention to the large bed in the centre of the room. It's larger up close, definitely capable of holding three people, and what little embellishment in this room is entirely focused there. The sheets, whilst sewn of cheap material, are certainly well made, and have slight embroidery around the edge. The focus on the bed makes you mind wander to what's going to happen on it. You're going to be taken by this monster.

Like the bitch she's made you.

The thought sickens you. But that sick feeling slithers down into you. Deep down to where there's nothing but a shouting emptiness. And in that most primal of voids, sickness becomes slickness, pooling between your thighs in a way so deeply alien to your mind, but natural to your body.

Your reverie is shattered by the knell of the door being firmly shut behind you. As you shake the lustful thoughts from your mind they're immediately slammed back into you as the witch grabs a handful of your callipygian arse. You catch her smirking as you flinch from the contact, instinctively letting slip a low, suppressed growl to hide the signs of the electric pleasure that had jolted from the point of impact to your now sopping cunt.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this!" She grins, now kneading your well-muscled behind. "It's been such a long while since anyone's come to visit. I would have settled for a fucking farmwife to slake my lust on. Some dull dolt with saggy tits and a belly made loose from the three equally boring children she's squeezed out. But look at you! I've got me a real fucking orc warbitch!"

At this point, her right hand begins to cup one of your tits. On your orcish frame they shrank from elvish fuck-slut sized to merely amazonian goddess. Her thumb starts to trail and tease the dark forest green of your areola and your can't help but moan now, the dual groping of arse and tit too much for your lust drunk mind to resist. She seems to take your rising blush of embarrassment as her cue.

"Get on the bed." She growls in your ear, standing on her tiptoes to do so. "I'm going to cum in you now."

She sends you off with a slap on your butt. You don't want to make her angry, so you **** yourself to take a couple of hesitant steps toward the piece of monolithic furniture.

"Don't complain. It's only fair, I did suck you off after all. I'm just asking for what I'm owed."

She's getting impatient. That could make her angry. You steel yourself and muster some faux enthusiasm to skip the last step and jump onto the bed. You've resigned yourself to what's going to happen. And some parts deep down are okay with it. For your own sake, you can't think about the parts of your body that want it. But you don't think you can actively take part. Or watch the face of the woman as she enters you. As the quite rustles of her dress hitting the floor and the soft patter of her approaching footsteps thunder in your ears you arrange yourself on all fours, facing the wall.

You finish presenting yourself like a bitch in heat just as the witch arranges herself at the foot of the bed. You can feel the heat radiating off of her cock. Even through the thick grool dripping from your cunt. She must be close. She must be hard.

"Good girl" she whispers, gentle for the first time, as she caresses your arse. You gasp, you're not sure if in fear or excitement. You don't think you want to know.