Why Else? To Get Ravaged!

Your advisors had warned you that Torqu could never be a fit consort for you for a myriad reason. The most important reason was matters of succession. It was well known that the offspring of an orc and a human depended on the father. An orcish mother and a human father produced half-orcs. However, the sons of an orcish father and a human mother would be true-born orcs. The heirs you produce would be brutish, nasty orcs. None fit to wear your father's and grandfather's crown.

That was not to mention the myrid ways that an orcish king might use a position in your bed-chamber to gain an advantage or concessions from the kingdom. It would be irresponsible for you as a monarch to put your own subjects in danger of deprivation by handing power to their dangerous enemies.

Obviously, you were aware of both difficulties. Although, truthfully, neither was entirely dissuading you from meeting with Torqu. Truth be told, it made you want to be his bride more.

No human gentleman could satisfy your depraved cravings. Your **** desires. You wanted to be ravished and used as a fucktoy. You wanted a man who would treat you like dirt, even if you were a queen. You wanted a man who'd **** you and make you sign whatever humiliating concessions he put in front of you. The fact that he would **** you to bear his inhuman offspring was so exciting that you'd fucked yourself to the thought of it on many occasions.

Your hope, above hopes, was nothing less then total submission. You wanted a man who would make you into his ****-Queen. And for that, you need an Orcish King.

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