The Keep

Sin’Thol smiled happily, stretching and lifting her robe over her head, grabbing a tiny, green top from her bag and tossing it on over her head. “Glad to be back here?” she smiled at Gorth, as he smiled down on her, stretching his shoulders and chest, “Oh yes… Mistress,” he smiled, tugging at the waist of his pants. She smiled, sitting on her hands, the cold stone of Zul’Aman below her. “What do you think,” she grinned, as he licked his lips, “A beautiful sight,” he nodded, sitting next to her, a thick, green arm holding her to him as she cuddled into his chest.

“I think it was a decent day,” she smiled. “Gorth enjoyed it greatly. He did… his best to serve, even if it wasn’t good enough for the Great Mistress,” he grinned, squeezing her gently. She nodded, sighing happily, “you did quite well today. Quite well.” Gorth beamed at her, moving his head closer to her and quietly inhaling her scent. “Gorth… did?”

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Zul’Aman was quiet and dark, a relaxing and eerily vacant area with Troll architecture. Sin’Thol had noted the place earlier in the day when they were training, and planned on bringing her pet Orc back there at dusk to punish him for the past errors he had committed.

They slowly trotted through the castle, neither of them talking much. Gorth’s armour clanked as he followed his Mistress, clad in her typical suit. They stopped in a small room and she turned to look at him, sizing him up. He was a large Orc, obviously powerful, even by Orcish standards. She admitted a certain pride in being able to control such a brute, smiling devilishly at him.

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Gorth bathed in the river near Zul’Aman, scrubbing himself with soap he had bought earlier in the day as Sin’Thol stared up at the sky, leaning back on her hands. She was average height and size for an elf, with stained red lips and grey soot covering her eyelids. Her cheeks were often flushed pink, and her face was, for lack of a better word, soft. Her arms and body were well toned, her skin a rich peach.

There was little doubt that she could have an elven mate, if she desired. But instead, she watched from the corner of her eye as the brown-green orc washed himself in front of her, finding herself growing ever more excited at the sight of him. She certainly wasn’t pleased with this new found attraction to her beastly orc, and had been trying to combat the need to have him fill her, though only half heartedly. She hated the complexity of it all, and would much rather have fallen in love with an elf that doted on her as much as Gorth.

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Gorth was no longer the wild beast that the tiny elven girl, Sin’Thol, had tamed. No longer the grunting beast, he had become more to her than protection and a way to fulfill her bazaar physical desires. He had become a friend to her, someone she could take care of and who would love and dote on her in return. On a base level, she recognized this affection, though she denied it for a long time.

The beast that she had tamed soon became the perfect pet, and then the perfect lay, soon after the perfect friend, and then…

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A crazed orc ran snarling through the bushes in the inky darkness of Tirisfal Glades. Dressed only in a pair of tattered pants, Gorth sped with all the strength in his stocky legs, still fleeing the guards who had long since stopped following. His entire body was covered in cuts, scrapes and bruises, both from before, during and after his escape from imprisonment.

Reaching the clearing of the glades, he stopped, panting and trying to maintain some control over his own mind’s chaos and form a coherent thought. Breathing heavily he looked down at his own bare chest, ravaged and beaten, and scratched, his eyes darting around his surroundings. The hunger was driving him mad. He hadn’t eaten since well before his escape and it was weakening him.

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