Her life as a prize.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned into months. And as the seasons moved, so did the camp. And in some way, Zoria counted herself as fortunate.

Her captor, Grok, as he called himself, had managed to rise up in the ranks of his people, which meant that when they moved camp, she had the luxury of being shoved into the caged cart, along with a few other women, rather than being **** to walk behind it. And those men and women that fell, were left behind to their fate. But she was not spared the lecherous gaze of the other males of his kind. One of them in particular, a young male called Hrew, looked upon her with obvious want and desire, making her skin crawl. Grok had so far managed to bully him into place, but there was something about him that made her feel even more uncomfortable.

When she first spoke with the other women, she learned how to survive. As a prize, she was guaranteed limited freedom within the camp and protection from the others by her keeper, so long as she kept him happy. That usually meant keeping his tent neat, tending to his wounds if he had any, preparing his meals, having his weapons and armor seen to, organizing his loot, and warming his bed. And she had seen first hand the consequences of trying to escape, when the head of the would-be escapee adorned her keeper's spear. One of the women flatly remarked that this was no different than any other sort of marriage, and received a few dark chuckles at that.

Once night had fallen on the new war camp, Grok ducked under his tent's flap, and saw that it was at an acceptable state of unpacked. "Prize! Beer! Now!" he barked, taking his sword off his belt. There was a moment's pause in his brain as he debated between leaving it by the entrance or taking the five steps over and placing it on the rack. Thinking hard, he decided to put it away instead, knowing that it would make his prize not so boring when he did. She arrived moments later, with a large mug in her hands, looking sullen and tired, but her face did lighten up a little when she saw what he'd done. Taking the mug from her, he drained it quickly, and wiped his chin clean with the back of his hand. Looking down at her, he burped loudly, before putting his hand on her shoulder. "Camp move far. Prize travel good?" he asked. "Any trouble?"

Putting her hand on his wrist, Zoria shook her head. "Zoria travel good," she replied, with her basic understanding of his language. "No trouble. Grok travel good?"

Grok nodded, before looking her up and down. Her clothes were torn and tattered, and they'd be moving into the frigid territories next season. She had put on a healthy amount of weight now, but still would not do well there. "Prize armor no thick. Camp move to cold place soon. Grok find new armor. Keep prize warm."

Looking up, Zoria smiled and nodded. "Thank you Grok. Grok will make Zoria happy."

"Then, prize make Grok happy?" he responded, with a lift in his voice.

Zoria was quiet for a long while, her face unreadable, before she nodded again slowly. "Yes. Prize will," she said, sounding dejected, before standing on her toes and kissing him.

In a moment, Grok was sitting comfortably on his pride and joy, the fur covered rigid enough bed frame made of stolen and reshaped lumber that his prize had made with him. Looking down, he watched with a wide grin as she knelt between his legs, putting a damp cloth away in a bucket before holding his cock in her hands again. It could just barely fit it into her mouth, but he had trained her enough so that she knew what to do.

With it cleaned as best she could, Zoria swallowed a dry throat and exhaled loudly before setting to her task. Wetting her lips, she kissed the tip of it first, before peppering the rest of it. Her hands wrung and twisted all over as she slid then up and down his shaft. Grok's knuckles cracked as his grip tightened around the frame, letting out little moans of approval. "Good prize, very good. Use mouth more."

Obediently, her hands and mouth swapped places. Her fingers curled and spun over his tip, while her lips glided along his shaft. She saw to it that both sides received her mouth and tongue's attention, before laying her tongue flat against the underside of it and dragging it all the way up, making him groan lowly. "Does prize make Grok happy?" she asked, getting as much of her mouth around his tip and sucking on it.

"Yes. Prize make Grok happy," he growled deeply, putting his meaty hand on top of her head. She braced herself, expecting him to try and **** it into her mouth again, but instead he just stroked her hair. "Grok very very happy. Grok very happy with prize also." His head cocked to the side as a strange thought entered into it, but he quickly dismissed it. Why would he care about her feelings? He kept her fed, clothed, and safe from the others. That's all that she needed.

Wasn't it?

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt both of her hands sliding up and down quickly his cock, and her tongue on the underside of his tip. Her mouth was wide open and she was looking right at him, murmuring something. Then, he felt his release come too soon. His hot sticky seed shot out from his cock, most of it landing in her mouth, and a few strands stuck onto her face. Diligently, she kept stroking him until he had none left to give her.

When he was done, she made a display of showing him her seed filled mouth, before swallowing it. Fighting back a gag, she panted at him. "Prize do good?"

Letting out a long exhale, he patted her head gently. "Yes. Prize do good," he said, sounding troubled. Without another word, he stood up and went back outside to stare into his fire, leaving a somewhat confused Zoria alone.

He did not go back in that night.