Give your chain to the Chief

You look to your father, cringing with shame and defeat, then back to the Chieftain awaiting your decision. You do not feel you could mate with your own father, but perhaps, by your choice, you can protect him.

As you step reluctantly forward, the Chief's mocking gaze takes in your young, hot-blooded body - bred on the finest elven stock to breed in turn. Under his fur loincloth, you see his maleness thicken and twitch as you offer the end of your chain.

He takes it, givining a sharp jerk so that you fall to your knees in front of him. Ignoring your father's involuntary cry of protest, the Chief gestures brusquely to his second, Brogar, who steps forward with iron pincers to secure the end of your chain to a heavy ring on the Chief's thick, studded leather belt.

Brogar steps aside, and the Chief steps forward, towering above you where you kneel. A rough hand clasps your collar from the back, pulling your face against the swell under the Chief's loin-furs as he grins down at you. "So be it. You want to learn how an Orc breeds, boy? You have chosen the right teacher. Oh, yes. You will serve me, and my men, and best learn to serve us well, if you want your miserable father to live!"

He turns to regard your father, defeated and humiliated, then to Brogar. "As for this one, take him to the boar pens. Use the special grease."

You have no idea what he means by this, but your father moans in horror as he's led away.

"As for you, pet," says the Chief, still rubbing himself hard under his furs with your face, "best come quietly to my tent, so we can get acquainted."