A Sex Slave To Alien Masters (Erotica)

“If that’s true, and I’m still not sure it is, but if you’re right then what do you think I should do? Do you have any secret elfish way of fighting that could give me an advantage? Right now I think I’d need to become Batman to stand a chance against the other packs in the provings.” He lifted one hand from where it rested on her hip and pushed away a few stray locks of dark hair that had spilled across his face.

“I know nothing of this Batman, but I suspect that you need only be yourself to prevail in your upcoming battles.” She gently reached out to push away his hand and carefully did the job of tucking away his hair for him. Her light fingers traced across his brow comfortingly, and eased some of the frustration he felt with her line of conversation.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

“Being myself hasn’t gotten me anywhere but thrown on my ass so far.” Gregory focused on the feel of the woman connected to him so intimately rather than the upsurge of many painful memories of defeat in the proving pits.

“That is because you are not yourself, dear one. You are trying to be an orc.” Before he could give her a retort to that, she lowered herself to silence him with a loving and tender kiss. Again, he relaxed when he felt those silken lips caressing his own. His arms lifted to hold her against him, but eventually she slipped away to rise above him again.

“Ok then, oh wise one. Explain. I’m not about to start wearing false-tusks, so what do you mean that I’m trying to be an orc? Isn’t that kind of the point of the provings?”

“No, the point of the provings is to prove that you can succeed in combat and fight alongside a war pack.”

“Riiight…” Gregory lofted a brow and waited for her to elaborate.

“How do orcs fight?” she asked.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. She wasn’t exactly the most forthcoming of conversationalists and he’d had a very long day. After a moment of setting his mind to seek out the answer, he finally gave his assessment.

“They like the devastating charge. Their armour and weapons are all focused on it. Their weapons are unbalanced towards the business end to give them more impact and their armour is focused on protecting the upper body. Size and strength are their key advantages and they’re very good at using them on the offence.”

“Good,” Valise commended his assessment as a patient teacher to her student. “Now, how effective are the Runts at implementing this way of war?”

“Terrible. Frelki and Nullik are too slim and too small. They’re fitter than most humans, but they don’t seem like they’ll ever get bigger than they are. Don’t have the right body type for it, I guess. When they try to charge like they’ve been told they don’t last more than a few seconds. Ulla is capable and dangerous, but she doesn’t fight with the rest of us so our charge has even less impact. Wrut is good, but he fights with a weapon that’s too big to wield properly with only one arm, so after the initial charge he’s easily outmanoeuvred when it gets down to the fighting. Frun’s ok, but he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer and usually just tries to back up Ulf. Ulf himself would probably be great with any other pack, but he’s not a good leader. He needs to be more adaptable. If we’re actually going to win, we need to come up with a better plan than charge and fight.”

It was good for him to voice the thoughts he’d been having over the past weeks in the comfort of Valise’s company. The Runts weren’t bad orcs, or even bad individual fighters. They just didn’t work when it came to fighting as any sort of cohesive group.

“And what about yourself?” Valise asked.

“Me? All I can really do when it comes to the charge is try to back up one of the others. When it comes to the fighting I just try to help us hold our ground. My new shield helps, but I fucking hate using those unbalanced clubs. Every time I swing at something it feels like it takes forever just to recover. I can’t really parry with them either. I’d honestly prefer to throw the fucking thing in the dirt and go hand-to-hand.”

“So, you have assessed what is wrong. Now, why have you not fixed these problems?”

“Because I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, you’re not allowed to fight with anything but the clubs or the armour.”

“That is no rule I am aware of.” Valise lightly lifted herself up and slid all the way down his length again.

“What?” His eyes flashed open in surprise.

“It is frowned upon to use other tools in battle, but the rule is that no weapon can have an edge or a point. Likewise armour cannot be forged of metal. Beyond that? Anything is allowed as long as the proving master agrees to it.”

“Wait? Seriously?” Gregory’s gaze seemed to ignite as the possibilities of that raced through his head. Then that momentary spark was quelled when he let out a breath and shook his head. “If I made new weapons then it would mean new tactics, and if I did that it’d undermine Ulf. He might not be the best leader, but he gave me a shot and he does everything he can to look after us in the pits. I don’t want to screw him over.”

“I think you fear too much for the son of the warchief. I see him fight. I see him struggle. He does not wish for power or renown. He wishes to win.”

Gregory looked up to her and felt new thoughts and a new hope racing through him. He thought about what the woman atop him had said and saw a new path illuminated before him. Quickly, he sat up and caught Valise against him to kiss her with a deep and loving passion. She felt the change in him, and the power that came with it. The male was renewed, and she could feel the fire in him roar back to life once again. There was no resistance from her in that moment, and she let herself be swept along with that blaze of enthusiasm.

The touch of his body was no longer tense with the desperate need to find relief at the end of a hard day. Instead, he coaxed and teased her with an adoring touch that distracted her enough that she yelped aloud when he swiftly rolled them over. She found herself settled amongst her furs, her legs splayed open and the strong male between them becoming more his old self again. It was by no means a cause for complaint, as he kissed her with a simmering heat as his hips rocked to a slow and steadily building beat.