Page 9 of Agor

But I couldn’t possibly just sit here and wait until the orc chief arrived and rendered me immobile with his monster-cock.

Crouching down, I inspected my restraints. The manacle around my ankle was attached to a chain from a pile of ropes and other chains on the floor. Pulling on my chain, I realized it was strong. I couldn’t break it, no matter how much I tried. Sadly, it also wasn’t long enough for me to reach the table with food.

Dragging the chain behind me, I shuffled to the window behind a lace-trimmed linen curtain.

The night was dark. The glow of the bonfires barely reached here behind the chief’s house that happened to be not too far to the keep’s wall. If I was careful enough, I could reach the wall undetected. If only I could get rid of this chain.

I looked closely at the manacle around my ankle. Like everything in this place, it was strong and solid, made to last. The old crone took the key with her. She’d probably give it to the chief.

Would he remove the chain from my leg before taking me to bed?

Or would he fuck me right here, bent over the workbench?

With my pants yanked down, my tunic hiked up, my breasts spilling out for him to play with while he rammed into me from behind...

Oof. I fanned myself. As the sudden crazy fantasy assaulted my senses, the air in the house seemed way too hot. The fire in the hearth must’ve been burning for a long while now.

It’d also been a long while since I’d had sex with a man instead of my hand. So long, that I was now fantasizing about being pounded by an orc, the one who’d caught me like an animal and dragged me here against my will.

There was a huge difference between a fantasy and a reality. In my fantasies, I had full control. However, once the orc chief got here, he’d do whatever he wanted to me, and I’d have no say at all.

A shiver of dread ran over me, instantly cooling off the heat of arousal.

I looked around, racking my brain for what to do. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t reach the table or any cupboards to look for a weapon. All I had access to was the workbench, the anvil on it, and a heavy metal wheel next to it that the master of the house might be planning to fix or to work on.

A stomping out on the front porch followed by muffled voices and the dog’s growling spurred me into action. The chief could come in any minute. I had to hurry.

Working as fast as I could with my hands bound in front of me, I unhooked the long, heavy chain from the wall, then wrapped it over the top of the workbench, curled it around the narrowest part of the anvil, then threaded it through the spokes of the wheel. Leaning with my shoulder against the workbench, I barely managed to lift it just enough to shove a coil of a chain under its leg to make it unstable.

As the latch clanked and the front door opened, I stood in front of the end of the chain that dangled from the ceiling, concealing its hook behind my back.

Agor, the orc chief, entered with a frown etched on his face.

Chapter 3

Becca

The deep grooves between the chief’s thick eyebrows smoothed out as he looked at me.

“Ah, there is nothing better than coming home to a woman waiting for you.” He sauntered to the table.

“Who said I’m waiting for you?” I scoffed.

“A feisty little newt.” He raked his eyes over me while shifting aside the towel over the dish on the table.

A pile of white, fluffy rolls came into view, and I no longer paid the orc any attention, unable to tear my eyes away from the food. I hadn’t eaten bread for years. I’d almost forgotten what it looked or tasted like.

“Where do you get the flour to make those?” I asked with a swallow as my mouth watered.

To my knowledge, the wetlands couldn’t grow wheat. The seeds we’d planted last spring rotted in the wet ground without producing a single plant.

He picked up a roll and ate it whole in one bite.

“We trade.”

“Tradeorraid?” I specified, skeptically.

“Not a big difference.” He shrugged, then intercepted my ravenous stare. “Hungry?” Picking up another roll, he bit off half of it.

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