Fuck & question & sacrifice

Gizol was so horny that he had trouble thinking straight, so that had to be taken care of, first. With one hand, he grabbed the braid of the she-orc and pulled her up so that she was on her elbows and knees. He waved his other hand, covered momentarily in flames, in front of her face.

"You bite me and this will be the last thing you'll ever see, understand?" He asked maliciously. The she-orc nodded with a very serious look on her face. Gizol allowed the fire to go out, so he could grab her jaw and pointed his quivering prick right at her face. Without hesitation, apparently not caring that the other orcs were staring at them, she opened her mouth and leaned forward slightly, engulfing him in one swift move.

"Oh by the gods", Gizol murmured and placed both hands against the back of her head. The she-orc dutifully bobbed her head back and forth whilst using her tongue to slurp around his dick. Her nose sunk into his pubes at every downstroke. Drool and spit started to drip from her lips, hitting the ground but the she-orc was hardly perturbed - instead, she increased both her suction and speed.

Gizol shuddered and pressed her face tightly against his pelvis as stars shot over his eyes and he came like a fountain. The orc swallowed loudly and repeatedly, and eventually, Gizol withdrew from her mouth.

"Damn, that was good. What's your name?" He asked as the she-orc wiped her lips with the back of her smooth, green hand.

"Swift-Step, Master", she replied. Gizol was somewhat surprised, as he couldn't remember it being common for orcs to speak Common so well.

"Very well Swift-Step, you belong to me now. Your first task is to find me some clothes", Gizol ordered. The she-orc scampered on her feet, bowed and departed.

Gizol looked over the remaining orcs. They were all males, dressed in rough leathers, with an assortment of crude looking spears, axes and swords around them. He fixed his gaze on the oldest looking, who had cracked both of his tusks and carried a jagged scar over his face.

"Are you going to serve me loyally now or will I have to sacrifice you all?"

The old orc actually paused to think for a moment, before answering:

"It is our way. You are our master now", the grizzled orc replied.

"Very well. Call me Master Gizol then. But I am going to need one sacrifice and as my new lieutenant, it is your task to choose which of your comrades gets this honor", Gizol explained. He didn't like it, as six Orc warriors guarding his back was better than five, but one did not go around pissing off the Dark Prince Graz'zt and enjoy a long and peaceful life.

The old orc stared back at Gizol for a few moments before turning to the other orcs and barked commands in their guttural language. Four orcs grabbed the fifth, a noticeably smaller one, and dragged him to Gizol.

"Graz'zt! Accept this sacrifice in your name and grant your favor to me!" Gizzol shouted and plunged a phantasmal blade into the heart of the vainly struggling orc. Blood was spilled and the life was snuffed out of him. Gizol could hear laughter in the distance.

WELL DONE MY SERVANT, WELL DONE. I ENJOYED THE SLAUGHTER AND DEBAUCHERY YOU PERFORMED, YET I LUST FOR MORE. HEED MY WORDS MORTAL AND YOU SHALL TRIUMPH.

"Yes, my ... lord", Gizol stated out loud. The orcs had retreated a few steps from him as if they could sense the Infernal bond inside him.

"Fine, that's that. What's your name, old tusk?"

"Sky-Spear, master", the old orc answered.

"Good. Tell me, what were you doing here? When I entered the tomb, there were no orcs for leagues", Gizol asked.

"Our tribe is part of the Green Horde", Sky-Spear explained. "We often hunt here, north of the Silver Spire Wood, as humans are sparse, as we have done for two generations at least".

Gizol was perplexed. He had never heard of this Green Horde before. How long had he stayed in the Abyss? At least a century, it seemed, if Sky-Spear wasn't lying.

At that point, Swift-Step came back carrying a bundle of rags. Gizol sighed but he had no alternative options, so he grabbed a wool shirt and wore it like a robe.

"So is the Elven Run still south-west from here?" He asked, remembering the large river that his group had used to get close to the rumored temple. Sky-Spear nodded.

"Yes, the river is there, though we do not go there often, as humans have a logging camp and many guards", the orc stated.

"Well, we're going there now. I have no intention of growing old, well older, in these backwoods. Swift-Step, lift me up!"

And so, the motley band started their journey - Gizol sitting comfortable on the shoulders of the she-orc, enjoying the sight of her rounded bosom, the five surviving he-orcs scouting ahead of them and the skeletons, laden with treasure, silently following, the rear being brought up by a dozen orc zombies that Gizol had raised before departing.