Iyda Wifemaker, Second wife of Turrig

The morning you next awoke signaled the end of your life as an adventurer. Dry cum clings to your body, inside and out as you rise from the fur bed. Beside you lays Petra conscious but too afraid to move. The orc from last night is nowhere to be found. You to move Petra and gently stroke her face.

“Good morning Petra.” You smile gently as she looks up at you, deep concern in her eye.

“What is happening?” she says sitting up, tucking her knees in. She lowers a hand to her slit and picks at some dry semen. “So it… it happened. It was all so fast… so sudden.” Tears begin to gently stream down her face. “I feel so strange…” You grab her hands taking them into yours.

“It will be okay.” You say quietly.

“Wh-what?” she stammers.

“The orc seeks to make us his wives Petra. It won’t have been losing your virginity to a random orc, it would’ve been to your future husband.” You rub her hands tenderly as she thinks it over.

“Yea… that makes sense.” She says looking up at you. A glimmer of hope returns to her eyes as she looks into yours. “So, what are we supposed to do?”

“Just be good wives. Please him when he asks and he, in turn, will protect us. Orcs can understand reason, he will be gentle, you need only ask.” Your head whips over to the entry way where the orc, now dressed, enters carrying an assortment of eggs and meats. Morning light streams in the tent from behind him. He places the tray on the bed before sitting next to you.

“Please eat. Regain your strength.” You stop to kiss him deeply in thanks of the food. Moving to the tray you greedily eat some with your hands. Petra reluctantly follows your example. “Clan call me Turrig, you wives. You now part of clan. Call me Turrig.”

Of course! I hadn’t even got his name.

“I’m Iyda.” You say pointing to yourself. “She is called Petra.” you gesture to Petra who still picks at the food.

“Petra… Iyda.” The orc says quietly to himself. He nods before looking at you. “Iyda make me proud of wives. No doubt you breed me big healthy son. Small wife, feel good around cock. Birth of son may cause you trouble.” Upon hearing this Petra gently brushes a hand across her flat stomach before spacing out.

“I’ll make sure she’ll be okay Turrig.” You say resting a hand on one of his shoulders. Glancing down you notice a lump forming in his pants. An opportunity to impress him has presented itself should you be bold enough to take it.