Page 26 of Agor the Merciless
Zoe tapped the door frame with her fingers. She said nothing but stared at the tools and equipment. She stayed until Agor walked across the clearing, grabbed her elbow, and pulled her away.
“You don’t belong here,” he said.
She decided to give him attitude. “And what happens when I break the rules?”
He narrowed his eyes at her, dragged her to the main fire pit, and deposited her in the vicinity of Pira the Forager and Zana the Tanner. He then walked away, but Zoe knew he had his eyes on her. She smirked to herself.
Later that day, she went to his meeting with his raider and a few grunts by the entrance of the cave. Of course, no one had invited her. They were discussing hunting areas and patrol times. Durnak the Morose stood at Agor’s right side – an older orc with scars who used head movements and looks instead of words. Agor and him spent most days together, checking the camp, talking about plans Zoe couldn’t say she had any curiosity about. She walked into their group, moved past the present orcs, and ran her hand down Agor’s arm from shoulder to wrist. The orcs shifted their feet, coughed, and looked at the ground or the trees. The captain stopped talking and stared at her hand, then at her face. He told Durnak they’d continue later, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into the cave so fast that she had to run to keep up.
This became her new daily routine – break a rule, make Agor angry, get taken back to the cave for punishment that led to mind-blowing sex. Each time he grabbed her by the arm to march her away, her skin tingled, because his anger always ended with the magic salve giving her relief from the pain. There was something she wasn’t telling Agor, though. A new development. The pain faded after each night, but returned when she woke up, pushing her to find better ways to get areaction out of him, to increase the punishment, to get more ointment on her skin. She felt like a sinner, like she was doing something bad but couldn’t stop. Then she gave herself a silent lecture, because why would she feel guilty? All she wanted was to fuck her very big, very handsome, very fierce and fuckable orc husband. That was all it was. Right? With nothing better to do and so much time on her hands, of course she’d become sex obsessed.
Zoe soon learned what got him deliciously riled up – going near the garage, interrupting his meetings, touching him in front of the others, or standing near Roric the Smith, for some reason. Part of her brain knew she acted desperate, but that thought disappeared when the belt hit her buttocks and the cream followed, easing the pain that lately… wouldn’t go away from more than a few hours.
***
Agor the Merciless stood by a pine tree at the edge of the camp, watching the activity around him. His bride wandered between groups, stopping with Pira at the cooking fire for a moment before moving on. When she first came to camp, she walked confidently and met everyone’s gaze. Now she fidgeted constantly, startled when Borz the Krag-Tender dropped a feed bucket, and kept looking toward the cave, even though evening was hours away.
She was good for him, and he’d known it after their first night together. She accepted what happened, took both sides of it, and got up the next morning without complaint. These days, she asked for the pain, wanted more of it, seemed to need it, unlike the other women who had failed his test.
Borz the Krag-Tender spotted the captain and walked to him, striking a conversation about the krags. That got Zoe’s attention. She joined them, listened for a minute, then pushed betweenthem and reached to touch Agor’s chest, making Borz feel like he wasn’t welcome anymore.
To her surprise, Agor moved back, grabbed her hand, and pushed it down.
“Not now. Pira needs help with the herbs. Please go.”
“I need to talk to you inside,” she said, attempting to grab his arm so she could pull him toward the cave.
Agor shrugged her off.
“Later.”
He went back to his conversation with Borz, who shuffled his feet and stared at the ground.
Zoe huffed, and she would’ve stomped her foot, but she caught herself in time. It would’ve been unbecoming of her to throw a hissy fit. The orcs who’d noticed the exchange were already staring at her in a weird way. She didn’t like it. She decided to walk away for now and wait for nightfall, when she knew Agor wouldn’t refuse her advances.
As soon as dusk fell, she and the captain went to their private gallery. Zoe tugged at his vest before he even got to light any candles, her fingers clumsy on the leather straps, pulling too hard in her hurry.
“Tie me up and get the belt,” she said, walking to the bed while pulling off her shirt. “Hit harder than yesterday.”
Agor remained near the entrance. “No belt tonight.”
She froze and spun around. “Why not?”
“We can skip it sometimes.” With a sigh, he walked toward her, reaching for her face. “Let’s try something else.”
She swatted his hand away and crossed her arms over her chest. “We have a way of doing this.”
“Maybe we should try it differently.” Agor took another step toward her.
She backed away until she hit the wall, then slid down it. A sort of weakness overcame her, and she felt frail and a bit hysterical.
“It has to be the same. You tie me, use the belt, then the ointment.”
Agor shook his head and reached out again. Zoe moved away sharply and bumped into the storage chest, knocking it sideways.
“I’ll do whatever you want after, just start it the right way,” she insisted, her voice now trembling.
Agor thought for a minute, then seeing that she was impossible to reason with, conceded. He motioned for her to get onto their bed of pelts, and he tied her wrists to the iron bolt. He removed his belt but didn’t strike her yet. He’d always loved how Zoe filled the room with her cries and encouragements, her voice carrying down the long, dark corridors. He wasn’t worried about his orcs hearing her. In their culture, sex wasn’t taboo. However, he couldn’t help but feel that this routine had gone wrong somehow. He couldn’t say exactly when or how it happened, just that as much as he wanted to claim his bride every night, it had turned into something that was less… satisfactory. Like something tainted the act now.
