Page 24 of Steel & Thunder
“He is an interesting friend to have, to say the least.” A hand grabs a hold of my shoulder. “Come. Let me show you around the store.”
I’m steered toward a set of shelves. At first, I can’t really tell what’s on them. Sticks? Really thick wands? Then I see a few that have been carved a bit more intricately, the detailed veins making it apparent what they are. Fake dicks. This is a shelf of dildos. The sizes vary in both length and thickness. Most of them seem to be made of polished wood, but there are a few metal and stone ones as well. I almost reach up to touch one, because that’s gotta be cold, right? But I stop myself. Where the fuck did this orc take me?
“Brull has always been very talented with his hands. Most people expected him to put his wood and metalworking skills to use in carpentry.” Ironstorm reaches forward and picks up a thick, dark, and very detailed dick. “Personally, I find this much more interesting.”
I open my mouth but immediately snap it shut, no idea what I could possibly say right now. My eyes go wide as the fake phallus is held aloft, almost like he’s trying to find the balance on a new weapon. He regards it for a moment longer before placing it back on the shelf.
“Brull has made a few things to my personal specifications, but there are still others I would like to pick out. See anything you like?” I shake my head no at the question, eyes still wide. “No, I suppose we do not need any of these. At least not right now.” What the fuck does that mean? “However, these...”
He takes a step around to the other side of the shelf to look over the rest of the stock, and I follow. These are... I’m not sure what these are. They’re made of the same materials but aren’t as detailed. Just weirdly shaped. One end is bulbous, sometimes rounded, sometimes more pointed, and is connected by a thinner piece of material to a flatter, flared base almost as wide as the rest of the object. I have no idea what they are, but the fact that they’re made of the same things as the dildos has me connecting the dots.
The orc runs his hands over a few of the...whatever they are before settling on one and picking it up. It’s made of dark wood, the larger end almost the size of my wrist. The top of it—is that the top?—is oblong-shaped, sort of resembling an egg. I hear Ironstorm hum appreciatively, looking from the toy to me. He moves it to his other hand before grabbing my shoulder and walking me to our next destination. He’s buying that, isn’t he?
As he walks me to the other end of the shop, the wall we pass to our left is covered floor to ceiling in clothing. Well, clothing is generous. They look more like costumes. Shirts and jackets, colorful tights, hats and hoods—including one that looks like a very funny looking dragon. There are a few corsets and even some wigs. I don’t really need to imagine what these are for, but I’m glad we’re not stopping to look closer.
The wall in front of us has more things hanging, all made of brown and black leather. They’re connected with rings of metal, and from the shape, I’d say they look like harnesses, like for a horse or dog, but much smaller. To their right are different kinds of restraints, including a pair like I wore this morning. Most of them are leather, with varying numbers of rings, some connected, some with straps to adjust. Next to them are more restraints but in metal. Things like cuffs and manacles, some that don’t look terribly nice or comfortable. I’m glad we’ve stuck with the leather.
Next to the leather and metal restraints are tied bundles of rope, dyed in different colors. Not sure on the fabric but probably something soft and cheap, not like the climbing rope I kept in my pack. Ironstorm stops and looks over the selection, even pulling a red-colored bundle from its post on the wall. He runs his thumb over the material and hums to himself but puts it back after a moment. I let out a sigh of relief, drawing his attention and making him chuckle as he pulls me over to see the rest of the wall’s selection.
It’s more clothing, specifically underwear. At least, most of it is. I see traditional loincloths and briefs, and then... I dunno. Some look like little more than pouches with strings attached. Some look like they’re made of straps, offering little to no coverage of anything. Almost all of them are dyed, in even more colors than the rope. There are even patterns like stripes or dots or the markings of an animal’s fur. Some of it has lace, some has leather. It’s all very intricate.
“Does he sew too?” I wonder aloud, because who has the time to make all this stuff?
“No, he does not.” I jump when the orc in question re-enters the room to answer. “What he has is a good friend that likes to make these and would prefer to remain anonymous given my clientele.”
I don’t have a response to that, but I notice what looks like measuring tape hanging from his hand.
“Time for some more measurements, kid.” He turns to his friend, my owner. “Mind stripping him for me?” He nods to the wall behind us. “You can pick out a few pairs while I make the last few adjustments. He can try on everything together.”
I start to protest, but Ironstorm is already moving toward me with a smirk on his face. “This is happening one way or another, puppy. We have had a fairly pleasant day so far.” He takes another step in my direction. “I am hoping that can continue into the evening.”
I don’t open my mouth because I don’t have an argument. It’s not like I have experience with this. I’m not even clear on what I’m being measured for. But as they both move closer, I decide to save what little dignity I have and strip myself. I undo the top few buttons of the shirt, pulling it over my head. My actions stop the orcs in their tracks, and I untie the belt at my waist, letting my pants fall to my ankles and shaking them off in the corner behind me, dropping the shirt on top.
“Shoes too?” I ask, arms crossed at my chest like I’m not standing naked in a store where literally anyone could walk through the door at any moment.
“Yeah, I need to get those sizes too. Boots won’t be ready for at least a week.” The last part isn’t said to me.
I kneel down to untie and remove my shoes and ratty excuses for socks, setting them next to my other clothes.
“Alright, c’mere.” Brull crooks a finger at me.
With a sigh, I step forward. He gets right to work, holding the tape in one hand as he pulls my limbs in whichever direction he needs. My arms are pulled up and out as he notes the length of them and my torso. The tape is wrapped around my chest, stomach, and waist before he moves behind me and drops to one knee. There’s a whistle, and I yelp when I receive a smack on my still-sore ass.
“Looks like someone got themselves in trouble. Not bad.” The words are again directed at Ironstorm and not me, though my skin flushes at the compliment.
The outside of my leg is measured (why didn’t we ask the lady at the clothing shop for any of this?) and then my legs are pushed apart. I feel his hand traveling up my inseam, but still jump when my balls are suddenly grabbed. They both laugh at that, and Brull takes his time holding my junk out of the way while he takes the measurement. After wrapping the cord around my thigh, he drops to one knee and has me lift one foot, allowing me to balance against him while he measures that too. When he’s finished, he stands and delivers another smack to my ass.
“Didn’t really need most of the stuff below the waist, but that was fun.” Brull gives me a leer when he walks back around to my front. “Alright, just a few minutes. Be right back.” He returns to his backroom once more.
“Go ahead and pick out some that you like.” Ironstorm is looking at the wall of underwear again.
Given that he just stood there while his friend felt me up for apparently no real reason, I glare. Fine. I turn to the wall and find the only things that look like regular underwear—a white loincloth and some white briefs. Wow, these actually have elastic in the waistbands. It’s a fairly recent invention, something a group of gnomes came up with like ten years ago. Very handy for holding things like underwear and socks up—I don’t miss having to actually tie a loincloth around my waist.
That means the city does a lot more trading with the outside world than I thought. Did he downplay that when he was explaining it to me? I keep getting surprised by how much more advanced these orcs are than I expected. Than most of the world expected. They didn’t just build a city; they’ve got an entire fucking system of government—complete with boring paperwork. Hell, they have things most of us back home don’t even have, like indoor plumbing. Why are they underestimated so much?
I shake the thoughts from my head and return to the task at hand. I can worry about how smart these orcs are when I’m not standing naked in a sex shop. I grab the plain-white undergarments, holding them to my waist since I can’t exactly tell the size. I hand him my picks and cross my arms in defiance.
“No fun at all, are you?” The orc looks down at my choices with amusement, stepping up to the wall himself.
