Page 7 of Agor

He grinned, looking pleased to see her, then shoved a hand under her shawl. By her breathless moan and the way her hips jerked toward him, I’d bet the sword I’d lost that he pinched her nipple.

I bit my lip, holding back a moan, too, at the thought of having those thick fingers of his anywhere near my naked breasts. My inner muscles clenched, sending an unwelcome shot of heat through my body.

“Should I come by tonight, Agor?” the woman murmured in a deep, sultry voice. “After you’re done with that one?” She tipped her head my way without actually looking at me.

“Sure.” He kneaded her breast under her shawl. “Bring Violette with you too.”

How many women did this guy need for one night?

I opened my mouth to tell him he should just have the woman in the shawl and her friend Violette because I sure-like-hell wouldn’t treat him as nicely as they did if he came near me with his grabby hands, but someone tugged at my breast plate.

“Can I have it?” The girl was about my height and not much wider than me, which must mean she wasn’t a fully grown orc yet. “I want her leather vest, Granny Magra. It’ll fit me just right.”

“Take it then, Nacy.” The old crone flipped the buckles on my sides, opening the belts that held the front and the back of my armor together.

“No.” I fought off their hands. “She can’t have it. It was my mother’s.”

Agor had moved away already. He glanced over his shoulder at the commotion but didn’t intervene, continuing on his way instead.

“Oh, come on now. Take it off.” Granny Magra pulled the breast plate off me with the help of the bratty girl. “Let Nacy have it. You’ll have no use for it in the chief’s bed.”

“I want it back!” I stabbed with a finger in Nacy’s direction.

The girl stuck her tongue out at me, already putting on my armor.

Ignoring my protests, Granny Magra dragged me by my arm toward the main alley through the grounds. “Come on, frog arms. The chief is too busy to fuck you right now. But he wants you nice and ready for when he comes home.”

“I don’t care what he wants,” I bit out, folding my arms over my chest. My breast plate had been molded to the shape of my body, not only protecting me against weapons and animals but also supporting my breasts like a corset. Without it, my fairly large, heavy breasts remained unsupported under my tunic, leaving me feeling weirdly exposed and uncomfortable. “I don’t want him to fuck me.”

“Why not?” she shrugged her shoulders that were square and wide like a wardrobe. “I’ve heard the chief is pretty good between the sheets.”

For some reason, I didn’t doubt that.

With their bulky bodies, hulking shoulders, and faces that looked as if hacked from a rock by an axe, bog orcs were ugly creatures. No one from my village, including myself, would callChief Agor handsome. Yet something attracted me to him on the most basic, physical level.

I believed that in a different world, under other circumstances, I could probably find some fun with him between the sheets, but not the way he seemed to intend it. To enjoy him, I had to do it onmyterms. As it was, I didn’t feel safe with him, which killed any idea of joy for me.

But since he left only an old woman in charge of me, maybe it was my chance to escape?

The hag’s grip on my arm remained strong, however, and she didn’t look like she was going to let go of me anytime soon.

As we rounded a building, heavy panting rose over the distant noise of the crowd. With his pants down to his knees, an orc male was rutting into a female he’d pinned to the wall of the nearest house. She groaned and growled, raking her tusks over the side of his neck. With her eyes rolling into her head from pleasure, she didn’t seem to notice us.

“Ah, good old times.” Granny Magra slapped the male’s naked ass as we passed by.

He granted something but didn’t slow down his punishing thrusts.

“My husband, may he never run out of ale in the afterlife, was good at it too,” Granny Magra reminisced with a dreamy smile on her face while expertly maneuvering me down the alley past yet another couple having energetic sex that left them both gasping for air. “The old dear could last all night, every night, if I was up to it. And of course, I often was.” She giggled like a little girl.

“What happened to your husband?” I asked, to keep the conversation going in hopes to fish out some useful information from the old crone. But curiosity also stirred in me.

Outside of the wetlands, little was known about the bog orcs. Like the rest of my people, I used to think of them as savagesbarely a step above animals who lived, bred, and hunted like predators but lacked intelligence, emotions, or civilization.

I hadn’t expected to find such an orderly settlement with streets and well-constructed houses, an organized society with intelligent government, and well-planned defenses like the wall around their keep. The only thing that remained as expected here was the breeding. The sweaty orcs rutted like animals with grunts and growls around almost every corner we turned.

“My dear husband died like an orc of honor. In a fight,” the old crone replied.

We passed more orcs fucking. This time, it was a group of at least four—maybe five—I didn’t stare long enough to count all the limbs in the pile.

---