The tournament begins

The next day, you are brought out to the squelching heat of midday. You are given the dubious honor of being the first contestant of the first day of this hastily constructed tournament. Looking around, one would scarcely think this was impromptu. Lush red banners across the edge of the arena pit, flags like you saw yesterday flutter everywhere in the desert wind. Children bestow the event with imported wildflowers tossed into the arena as you enter, given your trusty double axe, but nothing else. Great horns herald your arrival as you enter through the gates. The audience's response to you is mixed, but generally low. Orcs are seen as mindless savages, chattel brutes, and the like. Whoever or whatever you face against is likely to be seen as the 'hero' of the fight. You don't rightly care, if you do enough fighting, you'll eventually win the people to your side, and even if you don’t, they aren’t the real concern anyway. The real necessity is to survive, whatever it takes. That’s what’s gotten you through life this far, even if it's what also got you in this arena as a ****. It’s still the only reason you have a beating heart, and there’s no reason to change tactics; not here at least.

On the other side of the arena, was a human, armed with a spiked maul and shield, and heavy plate armor from head to toe, gleaming the in bright desert sun. He pays little attention to you, and instead trying to warm up to the crowd. Smiling, waving at them, blowing a kiss at some elvish girl he thought was pretty. The man is naïve, arrogant, or both. What you pick up from all of this, is that this fighter probably isn’t a ****; he’s volunteering to fight in the arena for glory and fame. Your main reason for getting out of here alive is whores, so who are you to judge? It’s at least something to exploit, if possible.

You both approach the center of the ring, and a final horn blows to begin the start of the fight. The armored soldier snaps his attention to the moment at hand in a second, but still displays a deadly overconfidence, trying to goad you into action. You can sense what he’s up to; he thinks his armor can protect him from you, and provide the opportunity for counter attacks, rather than going for the straight offensive against you.

He should trust in his abilities, not his equipment, you quietly think to yourself.

You take the move he predicts you to take, making a mad, angry charge straight for him. He draws the distance down as well, slower, cautiously. Just as he starts to raise his shield to defend himself, you drop your heavy axe in the dirt, freeing your hands, and try to come to a dead halt. Your inertia almost gets you in trouble as he makes a diagonal swing at you, the spikes nearly striking into your ribcage. In his counterattack, the human overextended himself, and you make a grab for his weapon. The contest of strength for control goes in your favor, and just as he loses his grip, you deliver a swift kick against his torso, pushing him away.

As your opponent stares at you, you take the wooden hilt in both hands and breaking it in two before tossing it in the dirt. The crowd roars in laughter and celebration seeing you toy with this fighter. Although masked behind a helmet, you can only guess as the look of rage he has on his face. Trying to only make that grow, you leave your trusty axe in the dirt behind you, putting your body in the stance of a brawler, ready to duke it out hand to hand. The crowd cheers at the display, only growing as the human drops his shield into the dirt, ready to engage in fisticuffs as well.

The two of you are slower to close the distance between you this time. Now, you put yourself on the defensive, making him come to you. The armor of his will protect him from even the most savage of your blows, but it will also slow him down dramatically. You’re not lightning fast yourself, but you’re at least the faster of the two. In range, he takes a series of shots at you, that you dodge and deflect easily, throwing soft shots in exchange that are meant more to rattle and frustrate than to do any real harm. You know you could outlast him this way, you can already see he’s losing stamina, not used to fighting in heavy armor like this. This isn’t the place to win on technicality. Worse, you don’t have the patience for that. Now is the time to make your move.

In a sudden flurry, you bum rush towards him, grappling him as you both tumble in the sand. Who ends out on top changes a few times in a few seconds, but eventually you’re able to get the human under you, on his back. With some frustration, you take the full face helmet off your opponent. For only an instant, you’re able to look each other eye to eye, each filled with rage and contempt, before it’s all over.

Raising the helmet into the sky, you beat it into your opponents skull, over and over until any last sign of resistance is gone. Happily, and immediately, you stand on your feet, holding the bloody and bruised helmet in the air as sign of your victory. The crowd cheers and hails in your decisive, bloody triumph. The vindication fills your chest with pride, but you don’t linger long in its splendor. You turn about to leave the arena, back to where you came. Guided by the prison guards, you hear a few claps as you’re escorted back to your cell. In it, you find the boss waiting, with a huge smile, and a special gift, holding true to his word.

"Kromdor, you magnificent Orc Brute! I never doubted you for a second! You’ve got a killers instinct in you, that’s for damned sure, and even an eye for dramatic flare.”

“Thanks Boss” You reply calmly

“No, thank you! You keep fighting like that and you’ll be making me filthy stinking rich. Everyone will want to come and see Kromdor the Viscious! Kromdor the Unmerciful! Kromdor the Conqueror!”

Your generous nature to him has run it’s course “Are you done, Boss?”

"Ya ya ya, keep your pants on, you. I know what you’re really after. You can’t say I’m not a man of my word, so here you are. The bounty of your victory, and there’s more where that came from if you continue to perform. I’ll let the two of you get to know each other.”

The special gift the Boss provided for you was another Orc, female. Light green skin, bathed clean and covered in soft oil, gleaning in the low candle light. Her jet black hair was cut into a mohawk; a design almost no orc actually wears, but the humans always think is orcish fashion. Her tits are massive, with small studs pierced through her large nipples. Her clit is also pierced, by the looks of it. She has no restraints to keep her here, except perhaps the ones in her mind. Her facial expression is vapid, seemingly nothing there but lust.

“Why hello there, big boy” She said her most sultry orcish voice “I hear that you’re a strong warrior, and I’m here to help you celebrate your victory”. A response wasn’t necessary, she had started moving to her knees before she had even finished talking. “Why don’t you let sweet Shugdi see your weapon?” A stupid question considering you were both in the nude, and she could already see your erect cock, large even by orc standards, but got the point across. You stepped to her and shoved it between it her fat milky tits, sliding it back and forth against her oiled skin.

“There we go, you stud. That’s the kind of cock I like to see.”

“Bet you don’t get anything like that around here” You coax her as you slowly fuck her tits

“With these little human pissants? No way! I love me some real orc cock though!”

“Good, because this is the only cock you’re ever going to get”

“Oh honey, don’t you tempt me with a good time.” She inches away, causing your cock to slide out. She furiously strokes your cock for a few seconds before getting on her feet. She slowly saunters against the bars of the cell, holding on with both hands as she sticks her hips out “Well, my strong warrior, you’ve got the weapon, let’s see if you actually know how to use it, and don’t waste my time” As if you needed further temptation, she shakes her ass at you in a fast rhythm, making the cheeks of her ass clap together.

“Don’t you worry,” You taunt back as you rest your cock between her ass cheeks “I’m a sword master. I always hit my target” as you lay on this corny pun, you slip your hips back and shove your cock hard into her waiting asshole.

“Fuck!” She stammers “You sure weren’t kidding about that.” Her mind solely on the joy of having her ass filled, pushing herself against you, arching her back as she goes.

“Finally!” She clamors between her deep moans “I get a real cock for once, and it’s all mine!”

Inspired by her choice of words, you take control of the situation, grasping her hips tightly and pressing her against the bars of the cell, her oiled tits poking through.

“You’re that please with this fucking cock? You want to let everyone in this dingy prison know!?”

Turned on by the humiliation, this orc woman moans even deeper “Fuck yes!” She calls out, her panting voice echoing through the halls “I’m love this orc stud’s massive cock, and he’s the only one worth of having this fine piece of ass. All you weak slobs could only dream of getting something like this!” You pummel her ass, the slapping sounds reverberating through the stone halls, mixed with your grunts as you erupt inside her. She cums just after you do; or at least acts like it. She’s a whore, she gets paid to pretend. At this point, you don’t really give a fuck.

You slowly pull out of her, letting her regain herself, as she slowly slumps against the wall, panting in her afterglow.

“So, what now stud?” She asks with a small laugh.

“Now” You reply in orcish “We work on escape”