An Orc's devotion [M/f]

As your first general runs off into the forest, you make sure to keep the telepathic link open. You'll let her have her time with her people - she's more than earned it, with how long she's had to wait for you - but you also want to make sure she gets the full picture of what happens next.

Your remaining petitioners stand stunned at what just transpired. There's a reason you started with Tiana's wish - mass resurrection when given corpses to work with has only been recorded by a few powerful dragons in history; mass resurrection of people dead for millennia with no bodies to be found is unprecedented. You figure a display of power like that is going to buy you more than enough good will to smooth along the rest of the proceedings - especially since they're all about to realize the rest of what you have in store for them. As you turn, you release your pheromones. You'll want them flooding the clearing for this, lest the more sheltered among your new followers flee or faint.

"Gromna of Kaldgrim," you say, a confident smirk playing across your features, "step forward to accept my mark, and tell us what has brought you here."

A young Orc woman, lithe and agile with long legs and surprisingly delicate features, kneels before you. She wears practically nothing - less, you know, than is traditional even by her people's relaxed standards.

You put your hand on her abdomen and stare directly into her eyes as your rune is inscribed over her womb. You see in her face a rush of emotions - tentative hope, tempered by a lifetime of disappointment. She breaks the gaze, looking down and hunching her shoulders in. Making herself small, protecting her center.

The part of you that was once human knows exactly what it looks like when someone is bracing for humiliation. You won't have it, not here, not now.

"Stand," you order, your smirk gone. "And speak."

Reluctantly, the green woman does as you command. "I am Gromna," she says. Her voice is low and harsh, but there is a musicality to it you find very appealing. "I am an Orc of Kaldgrim. I am small, weak, ugly. No man will have me. No woman will have me. I wish to be beautiful. I wish to know love."

Simple words. But you can feel the years of mockery, pain, rejection, and petty cruelty that led her to say them. You know her story, but a part of you winces hearing her express her own self loathing so plainly.

It seems a direct approach is in order.

"Gromna. You wished to be beautiful. That wish has been granted."

She looks down at herself, dumbfounded. "But I have not changed!"

"Exactly," you reply. You look her up and down, exaggerating the lecherous smile on your face.

"I don't understand!" she shouts. "Why can't you change me? I am ugly and weak and worthless, why can't you give me beauty and strength? Why can't you make me nor-"

You won't let her finish that sentence. *Make me normal*. How many times in your past life had you begged the universe for that same thing? How many nights did you spend lying awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling like there had to be something wrong with you, because nobody normal got the reactions you did from everyone around you? Because nobody normal was treated the way you were? How long did you spend convinced you were doing something wrong, and that nobody cared enough to bother telling you what it was so you could fix it? Or that it couldn't be fixed?

How close were you to believing that the pain and despair would never get better? How close were you to giving up on it all?

It's a good thing you aren't normal. Not as a human, and certainly not as a dragon. Because, among many other reasons, if you were normal, then what you're about to do would never work.

Your hand reaches out, wraps around Gromna's throat, and hoists her into the air. You squeeze, just enough to start putting pressure on her airway.

"Be silent," you say, glaring up at her. "Nobody speaks about my companions that way." She thrashes helplessly in your grip, but through your bond, you can feel that your words are hitting home. Still hoisting her high, you reach out with your other hand and rip the hide scraps away from her, leaving her dangling naked. You notice that most of your companions are in various stages of shock at the sudden shift in your demeanor, but the pheromones are doing their work well - any apprehension at your rough treatment is at least matched, and in some cases overridden, by sheer arousal. In particular, you notice Ichika having a hard time taking her eyes off Gromna's nude body, all but drooling over the green-skinned beauty. You file that away - there are some interesting implications there, and new possibilities, but that is an issue for later.

"Listen well," you growl, returning your attention to the struggling Gromna. "The wish did not change you because there was nothing to change." You slow down your next words, making sure to enunciate every single one. "You are a beautiful woman, Gromna. That's why you are here. The magic will not - *cannot* - grant a wish that is already complete."

You set her down, let her catch her breath. Then you step forward and say, quieter and lower, "and I can prove it to you." As she looks up in confusion, you reach out and pull her hand to your cock.

Her eyes go wide as she feels you through your conjured clothing. You are rock-hard, and have given this form an endowment that would be generous even on an orc. On a human, it's bordering on ridiculous.

"Of course, beauty isn't really the only thing you wanted, is it?" you growl, leaning down so your voice rumbles in her ear. "I know you've spent your nights going up to every man you meet, throwing yourselves at them, debasing yourself, offering anything, everything, hoping to find anyone who would enjoy your body."

"Yes," she groans, looking up at you. You see light starting to grow in her eyes - a dawning hope, the realization that maybe, just maybe, she's found someone who might see value in her after all.

"I intend to enjoy it very much," you whisper. "Starting right here, right now."

You start to push her downwards, and she practically dives onto her knees. You free your cock, and she immediately takes it into her mouth. What she lacks in technique and experience she makes up for in enthusiasm, and you groan with pleasure as she throws herself as far down your length as she can go.

"What the magic did give you," you say, making sure your words reach her telepathically as well as aurally as she gags on her first ever dick, "is *permanence.* Your body will never age, never weaken, never sag or wrinkle or show any of the ravages of time." You grab her again by the neck and pull her off you. Her mouth comes free with a *pop* of suction as her head lolls back, tongue hanging slack and eyes glazed over in pleasure. A part of your mind protests the momentary lapse in sensation, but it's easily quieted.

"And your price is simple," you continue. You spin her around and roughly push her onto all fours, ass in the air, your arm head pressing her head sideways against the dirt as you kneel behind her. Her cunt is soaked, dripping onto the soil, and the sweet smell of her arousal fills the clearing. "This perfect, eternal body," you say, lining yourself up at her entrance, "is *mine*."

You slam into her, and she screams in pleasure. "Gods, yes!" she cries, as you start to thrust. "I'm yours! Fuck me! Want me! Make me feel good!"

You are not gentle as you pound away at her cunt. She doesn't want you to be. She wants you to take her, to claim her, to lose control and give into the primal desire to rut. She wants to know that she is *wanted*, and you are happy to oblige. You've never felt a pussy this wet, and with your ability to mold yourself to fit anyone, she's exactly as tight as you want her to be.

"You are mine," you repeat as you redouble your pace. "My plaything, to use however I want. You'll be my concubine - "

"Yes!" she screams.

"My personal little slut - "

"Yeees!"

"And the first mother to my brood."

"Fuck, yes!" screams Gromna. "Anything for you! Anything you want! Fuck me, breed me, use my body, **** me on your cock, chain me up and make me your toy, I'm yours! Yours forever! I love you! Masteeeeeeer!"

You feel her back muscles seize up as she cums hard, and you have to hold her in place by her midsection to keep her from bucking off you in her ecstasy or pushing you out as her walls tighten around you. As she nearly spasms through her orgasm, you let your own go, and you feel your balls tighten as you pump jet after jet of sperm into your concubine's waiting womb.

As her orgasm subsides and she finally stops shaking, Gromna's legs finally give out and she crumples to the jungle floor. Your cum leaks out of her, forming a large puddle between her legs, as she babbles incoherently under her breath. There are no words coming over her link to your mind - just overwhelming pleasure, gratitude, joy, and relief.

For Gromna, this quick fuck has been the most important moment of her life. For you, it's one more box checked off your list.

You turn back to your remaining companions. Ignar the blacksmith has politely turned his back, but is failing to hide that he's been staring over his shoulder at you the whole time; Xixi the spirit simply looks on with what seems like an academic interest. The rest are openly showing their arousal as they squirm in place and shift their gazes between you and the well-fucked Orc - Nenetl, in particular, appears to have fallen to her knees and started touching herself at some point during the proceedings. None of the others have noticed, their eyes glued to your display of animalistic mating.

So far, so good!