A narrow miss is as good a miss

"Sknarzsh!"

The orc chieftain roars and frantically flings himself out of the thrust's line. If not for his warrior's instincts the strike would have been lethal. The dagger still connects, burying itself four inches into his left flank, two handwidths beneath his heart. The elven lady howls furiously. Quickly she pulls the deadly weapon back, jumps to her feet and thrusts out again.

This time he meets her blow with the sheer **** of a seasoned orcish war captain. Grunting like a rampant bear, he simply deflects her thrust with his arm. The sharp blade rips through his skin, leaving a bloody gash to his forearm, but this is just a needle's sting to a raging bull. Even worse, the drive of the deflection leaves the elven woman off-balance, just for a split second. Enough for the orc to capitalize on it.

The swing of his other hand is swift and brutal. The elven noble quickly tries to jump back. But his reach is larger than that of a human warrior, much less an elf. His mighty blow doesn't connect with her temple, where it might have killed her, but it hits her chin. The remaining **** of the blow is powerful enough to send the elven lady to the turf.

"Aiiiehhh!"

Her scream of pain slices through the air. Dizzy from the forceful blow, she props herself up, her blade directed at the orc in futile defense.

The orc laughs and just kicks the dagger from her hand, crushing two fingers in the process. Then he is all over the elven lady. She howls in despair as the brute overwhelms her. A terrible series of blows land on her body and her face. Soon her screams are stifled and she lies panting and gasping curled like a baby. She is bleeding from her mouth, several severe bruises adorn her delicate cheeks. She holds her belly as well as her right hand.

The warlord stands up as his fellow orcs gather around him. "Stupid bitch!" He spits at her. "Need some better to defeat Tsurvurash the Mighty. Hah!"

One of the other orcs says something in the rough, hoarse language of their kin. Just now Tsurvurash looks at his wounds. Both gashes are bleeding severely. He grimaces and rips a piece of cloth from the remnants of the elven lady's gown and wraps it around his wounded arm. He snarls a series of commands, upon which a make-shift seat of saddles and blankets is arranged on which Tsurvurash sinks down. One of his men, an elderly warrior with some wit about his face who is called Grumzok 'Smart Hands', starts to bandage his torso wound.

You watch all this quite astonied and unable to react. Only now, as the orcs are busy handling the aftermath of this swift outbreak of action, you get back to your senses. Shouldn't you have helped the elven woman in some way? Would it have mattered? You haven't got an answer. But one thing is clear: Tsurvurash is now in a very foul mood and thing look even worse than before.

Hence, you wince, when Tsurvuras roars another set of orders. Immediately some of the orcs turn towards the elven noble as two others step towards you. The vile grins on their face dont bode well.

"Please, don't hurt me!" you whimper.

"Shuddap, hu-man bitch!" snarls one of them and strikes you across the face to silence you. You howl just once. Then you bite your lip, determined not to bring more wrath upon you. Quickly they tie your hands together behind your back, followed by your ankles, until you can't move. You're pressed into a kneeling position and the use another piece of rope to connect your wrist bounds with your ankle bounds. Your shoulders are pushed back and your large tits out. When they are done, you're virtually immobilized in your kneeling stance. You sniff, unsure what your fate will be. The two orcs laugh and admire their handiwork. Then they turn to look what's happening elsewhere.

You follow their looks and gasp.

The other orcs have been very busy. Two thick wooden stakes have been buried into the ground, about five feet apart. Cords are fastened to them. And to the cords the elven woman's wrists are tied, spreading her arms painfully wide. But that's not all! Lying on her back, the vile brutes have lifted her legs and bent them high over her upper body. Ropes have been tied around her ankles and connected to the two stakes as well, until she is wrapped around in an halfway somersault position. That way, her ass sticks out high - unprotected and ready to be abused. You can see that she is still dizzy from the brutal rain of orc blows, but her eyes are full of terror and despair.

"Uuuhhhnnnn..." she moans, weekly trying to free herself from her terrible bondage.

"Still alive, bitch," Tsirvurash comments through clenched teeth. "You've done yourself no good. Time for payback. She's yours, boys!" He adds something in the orcish tongue and his men applaud with grim hoots and earger grunts.

Then the orcish punishment party starts!