A Sex Slave To Alien Masters (Erotica)

“He will have to fight in the final proving. He will have to fight my pack again, and when he does I will see to it that he doesn’t leave the pit alive.” Rolk clenched his hands into fists and growled that promise with unrestrained fury.

“See to it that he does not. Oh, and if you step out of line again until the moment you are proven I will personally see to it that you spend the rest of your short life struggling for air in the waste pits. Do you understand me, boy?”

Rolk tried to stop himself from snarling at his father, and failed spectacularly. For a moment, Talina thought he might be about to poop himself with such a strain displayed on his features.

“I understand, father.”Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

With that, he turned and lumbered back out through the forest toward the camp.

Up in her tree, Talina grinned before awaiting a breeze to rustle the leaves around her so that she could disappear into the darkness of the jungle unheard.

– – – – –

By the time Gregory stumbled out of his tent the next morning the sun had already risen fairly high into the clear, blue sky. The light dazzled his eyes at first, for though he hadn’t imbibed nearly as much ale as most of his friends, he certainly had slept like the dead after the previous day’s exertions.

The camp itself was unusually quiet for that time of day, with the notable exception of the snoring. He saw most of the Runts were still asleep around the burnt out fire, and two slaves were doing their best to work around them. Quite a few of the humans had joined in the previous day’s fun too, and many of the slaves were certainly in no position to begin their daily duties.

He smiled at the sight of them, and realised that he too was nursing his own unique sort of hangover. A pleasantly sore cock was standing in for the usual pounding headache. The mild ache had certainly been worth the good time he’d had in acquiring it. He wasn’t quite so sure his pack mates would agree that their fun had quite been worth how bad their heads were going to feel when they finally awoke.

Not wishing to be the one to wake them, he quietly made his way over to the remains of the roasted boar from the previous night and stocked up a plate with meat and the fruits offered beside it.

“Interesting night,” a familiar voice observed from his side.

Gregory smiled, not needing to turn and verify the owner of Emmet’s gravelly voice.

“That it was. I take it organising all this was your doing?” Gregory plucked up a slice of boar meat and dropped it into his mouth. He didn’t know what herbs or roasting juices they had prepared the thing with but it was damned delicious.

“Aye, well myself and your lady, Janette. She asked about it a while back, and it was no trouble really. Besides, everyone needed to relax a bit, and the excuse for a party was a bloody well earned one if I may say.”

“You were there yesterday?” Gregory turned to look at Emmet and saw the old man struggling to cut off some meat. His hands seemed to tremble a little too much when he stretched his arm out.

“I was. Quite a few of us were there, actually. They don’t let humans in, unless they’re accompanied by an orc. But we asked and Grolfir let some of us sit beneath the viewing balcony in the prison cells. Oh, thank you.” Emmet stepped back with a little hint of surprise crossing his expression when Gregory set his own plate down and moved to take the carving knife from him. He sliced off the meat from where Emmet had been scratching at it, and filled up a plate for him.

“Prison cells?” Gregory pressed.

“Oh we weren’t real prisoners or nothin’. The cells are for orc criminals who are waiting for a judgment in battle. But there’s a viewing slit along the wall the cells are backed onto and since they had space for us we was allowed to go watch from there. Very good of Grolfir, if I may say.” Emmet took the plate for himself once Gregory had finished cutting the meat for him and then turned to pick his own fruit.

“You know, one day I’m going to have to sit down with you and hear the story about why humans and orcs don’t seem to get along too well.”

Emmet let out a humourless laugh at that. “Ha! Be sure to set aside a few dozen hours for it if you want to hear the whole tale.”

“I will. Thanks for all this, Emmet. And thanks for the support.”

“Any time, young lad. Any time.” Emmet lifted his hand to give Gregory a dismissive little wave with a content smile before going back to pick berries from a branch.

Taking his plate, Gregory departed the camp after carefully stepping over a few snoring bodies. He noted that Ulf wasn’t amongst them, and felt a twinge of sadness about that. Best to let the alpha cool down. He’d go visit him later that day and explain his intentions, or rather lack thereof, toward Ulla.

Continuing to idly pluck morsels of breakfast from his plate, he made his way out of the camp toward the stream. His mind wandered as he walked, and he found that his feet knew the familiar road well enough to find his destination themselves without too much assistance from his head.

As he meandered to the stream, he discovered in a sharp moment of self-awareness that he was actually happy. With all the issues he’d faced since arriving on Arolius, it had been rare that he found a quiet moment to take stock of himself. Those problems weren’t going to be easily overcome, but at least the idea of engaging with them no longer felt like he was hitting his head against a brick wall. More than that, he’d actually enjoyed the fight in the proving pits. The orcs were a little too gung-ho in their adoration of fighting, but he had to admit that when he was in the moment he’d felt the fire in his blood and the thrill of the fight just as much as his comrades. Of course, winning probably helped a lot in dealing with the aftermath of such an event. Emerging from the pits without a collection of broken ribs sure as hell improved the experience by leaps and bounds. Still, if he was honest it was more than that. There really was a part of him that called him to battle, and wanted to get back in there as soon as possible.

Nearing his destination, he moved to discard his boots and his trunks to walk naked over the soft grass and into the flowing stream. That freezing water caused his balls to make their usual effort to join his lungs and get as far away from the cold water as possible. It didn’t matter. Lately, he’d had worse experiences. Without much ceremony or wincing, he lowered himself under the crystal-clear stream and felt the numbness of the cold wash over his aching muscles.

Thinking again on the provings, he decided they weren’t so bad. The thrill of the fight was a siren song, and there was simply nothing to match it.

“You wake early, my mate.”

Well, almost nothing.