You chose this, son

Six more gut-punching loads follow, each in turn milked by your filthy, quivering, sucking shit-hole from your own father's brutal, untiring, demanding Orc-cock. In the end, you are unable to do more than hang limp in his arms as he grips your hips to slam your cum-gushing, shuddering, stretch-sore ring, scouring you with his thick, wiry pubes. As he had promised, every rough, raw thrust to grind across that shameful, dirty spot, deep inside you, has only degraded you further, your aching nuts churning still, even as your own cum pools in a sticky puddle beneath you.

As hours passed, the handful of jeering guards keeping you captive has grown to a jostling, restless crowd, all hooting and laughing to see you ruined, your compelling urge to mate turned and twisted, your First Rut meant to make you a strutting, Orcish, breeding buck, perverted to make you beg to be broken and bred like a filthy, Elvish butt-slut boy-whore on the same proud Orc-cock that sired you eighteen short years ago.

Your father's big, rough hand grips your meaty ass, lifting you so that his sixteen inches of cum-greased Orc-cock can slide free of your clinging, drooling fuck-hole. With it, you wetly fart out a thick gush of cum, until he roughly shoves in his thumb to plug you, your butthole puckering hungrily as he finds that cursed, enslaving cum-button, stroking and teasing you there as he lays you out between his knees. His free hand grasps the back of your head, to pull your open, panting, eager lips to savor the bitter flavor of your own ass on his barely softening cock. Your own hangs heavy and twitching, still seeping a weak stream of your wasted cum between thighs webbed with the thick ropes of Orc-cum that have escaped your dirty hole.

Hand under your chin, your father lifts your face to meet his eyes, your gaze pleading as he uses your mouth and tongue to wipe the cum from his half-sated cock. "I hope that you are ashamed of yourself, son," he says, his words striking you like a blow. "You should be. And I want you to know that I am, too." His thumb plies and strokes you tenderly, stoking your craving for more even as he prolongs your release. His hand on your head caresses as he guides your hungry, sucking mouth along his huge, sticky, slowly stiffening cock. "Now, to assure you do know, and will never forget..." The words hang heavy, equally weighted with promise and threat.

Taking his thumb from your cum-bubbling hole, he wipes it up your cleft in a sticky smear, then gropes for the tatters of your discarded, greasy loincloth, laying it out beside you. He lifts his voice, speaking now to the rowdy, restless Orcs crowding around. "Alright, you filthy swine!" he shouts, loudly enough to be heard even over their rude, mocking jeers. "You miserable, shit-eating dogs. Who's next?" He slaps his palm on the brown skid-marks of your cast-off underwear. "Pay up!"

He reclaims his grip on your ass to lift and spread you in shameful display and watches the look on your face as cheap, copper coins clatter onto the dirty leather scraps and a jostling line forms behind you. Your eyes plead with him, but you let the hand on your head guide you as you slowly, needily suck on his cock to muffle a whimpering moan at the first, rough thrust. He stiffens further to see you arch your ass back to meet it, and smiles.

"Happy birthday, son. Looks like your party is just starting."