Shakla Ku (Orc Femdom)

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I stood from my altar, sprinkling some of the foreign land before my household gods. I hoped that they could hear me in this savage wilderness, for I was further from Rome than I had ever been on this mountain in the dense forest. I prayed for strength, and to maintain my virtue in this heathen land. And I prayed to ask what sin I had committed to make it all come to this.

Fifteen years had passed, fifteen years of soldiering. I had risen through the ranks, from a quaestor to a legate, from a mere green boy to a seasoned man. I had commanded men in battle. With my ‘friend’ Labienus I had conquered a province. And now, I stood at the edge of the Roman world, the first line of defense. An important place, but a place of exile. A place of inglorious service.

But I was a Roman, and I would do my duty. This fortress had gone from a nightly camp to more permanent lodging, and for the first time in weeks we were in civilization, in an outpost of stone built with our own hands. Wooden walls had been replaced with thick stone, tents with structures. This would be an effective choke point to keep out the barbarian tribes.

I turned, and left my bedroom and entered my main chamber. A large wooden table had a map of the valley on it, with a marker where this fortress was. To the east was TransAlping Gaul, the province of Rome, taken by Labienus and I over ten years of conquest, ten years in which I had labored as his partner. To the west was Mamonic Gaul, where savage mamono of all kinds lived and raped their men into near comatose states. The savagery of the Unknown, where fierce, frightening, and alluring monster women waited, eager to snatch men.

A row of bookshelves was in one corner, and in the small maze of them was a desk where my scribe Phillip sat, and a door to his meager quarters. By the sounds of scribblings I knew he was there. My desk sat in the opposite corner, an amphora filled with wine on its cluttered surface. I grit my teeth as I stared at the stacks of scrolls that needed to be checked over.

I heard the door creak open, and a gaunt man of my height entered. It was Cassius, my first spear, the best soldier in my army. If Labienus had been (unwittingly) my patron, I was Cassius’. I had noticed his talent, and had elevated him from low birth to exaltation within the Legion. Had I become governor, I would have named him the Legate of the Tenth Legion, my Legion. As it was, my misfortune was also his.

Cassius had been gone for several weeks, on a trip back to Harbo. I could not quite place it, but he had returned different. Where he had seemed tired before, the trip had brought him a new energy, and he had dived into his duties with zeal.

“Hail, Legate,” he said, saluting with a fist to his chest.

“Hail, Cassius,” I replied. “I take it there have been no more disturbances today?”

“There has been no more discontent,” Cassius said. “Not since we had the thief strangled.”

I nodded with satisfaction. The man had been of low character, a local of the Gauls. These types of vultures were always present in armies. Thievery was always common, but this had been flagrant, and had led to campwide discontent. The man had been defiant until right before the end, when fear of the Black Arch made him panic. He had died ingloriously. Death was a useful punishment, although not as definitive as it had been on Earth. “A shame that it had to be done,” I said.

“I did not think you would want us to keep him here,” Cassius said.

“Indeed not,” I replied. “One less mouth to feed, and one less headache to handle. And yet I am loathe to send men like that back to the Altar in Harbo or Rome without word to warn them.”

“He shall drink of the cup, and be judged by the gods,” Cassius said. “That is enough, is it not?”

“Perhaps,” I conceded. “But is not how it used to be. Do you…remember much of Earth, Cassius?”

Cassius frowned. “I only remember that I was something called…a Speed Runner,” he said. “I do not know what that is, precisely, but it did not translate over well to this place – I am no more swift than any other man.”

“I do not recall that profession. Indeed I recall nothing of it, save that I thought that Death was everlasting,” I said. “I feared it greatly.”

“I fear Death no less now. Passing through the Black Arch…”

“Unpleasant, yes, but less…final,” I said. “To awaken at an Altar to the Gods is not so bad. Even the draught, severe as its consequences, is not so unpleasant as the unknown.”

“The draught tastes bitter,” Cassius said. “And what a man’s fate is when he drinks it is unknown. He could lose his memory, be regressed to a child, or walk out as if nothing had happened. In some cases, the gods even afflict them with unending fire.”

“But consider the difference – on Earth we thought Death could mean ceasing to exist. Here, we pass through a frightening Arch and drink a drink which may rob our memories, or make us youths. We are immortal, we know that now,” I said. “Even old age is just a trip through the Black Arch. Earth didn’t have that. We were all so afraid.”

“I still am,” Cassius said. “Death was an escape, once. Now, should some ugliness conquer the world, we would be slaves to it for eternity.”

“The gods watch over us, we must have faith in that,” I said. “I more fear that this Thief will arrive in Harbo. Septimus may see in him a kindred spirit, and make him a magistrate,” I said ruefully.

Cassius pursed his lips. “It should have been you, Legate,” the Centurion said. He shifted on his feet. “I was surprised that Labienus chose Septimus over you. It was not just.”

“It is our duty to accept our lot,” I said, hiding my discontent. Cassius was more pointed than was typical. “Besides, I have good reason to be loyal; Labienus has given me a command and made me wealthy.”

It was true that I had prospered, but it was not what I had been promised, nor had I prospered as much as Labienus. As boys we had played and as teens we had enlisted. Once we had sworn to elevate each other, but as we had risen, our positions had diverged, and Labienus did not honor his end of the bargain. The conquest of the province had very much been a joint project, the culmination of years of campaigns. I was to follow him as governor of TransAlping Gaul when he took the Consulship. And yet, he had named Septimus over me.

“He has made us all wealthy,” Cassius agreed, which only served to stoke my discontent. “Did you ever ask him why he chose Septimus?”

It was yet another pointed question. I recalled a heated exchange in Labienus’ palace in Harbo, before he left for his honors in Rome. Labienus and I had always been candid with each other, even as boys. That night it had come to a head. He informed me that I was forgetting my place. Through my fury, I realized what he was saying. And worst of all, I realized that he was right.

My eye twitched. “Labienus had affairs to consider in Rome. I understood,” I lied. “Still, choosing Septimus makes sense to politics in Rome, but not in Harbo.”

“Indeed. And Septimus behaves with such vulgar corruption that the province is near revolt. Even the colonists from Rome hate him. And the Legionaries…the men are taking local gods, I hear,” Cassius said, clearing his throat. “…and local brides.”

I grunted. “We have kept them unmarried too long,” I said. Legionaries were not supposed to marry. To some extent this was useful, but to any land with monster-women hybrids, this proved to be dangerous.

Labienus had specified married Legionaries in the early going of the campaigns, but that had caused no end of discontent in Rome. Roman mamono did not believe in their married men going abroad, and Rome had single men to spare, as the fertility gods of Rome blessed couples with two boys for every mamono.

This had been the inverse of the surrounding regions, where mamono heavily outnumbered men. The early history of Rome had been lamenting, with mamono mothers crying as their sons were taken. It had made Rome the paranoid conqueror-state that it was.

But the imbalance had made Roman men eager to sow their oats, and so often they could be led astray by a pleasant smile and a high voice. A Legion had to be constantly on the lookout for subversion. Sadly, the long years had taken their toll. The men were eager for brides. The Legion needed to be rotated out and married to good girls like Unicorns or weresheep.

“Nothing drives a man to treachery more quickly than batting eyelashes,” I said. “I have written to Septimus to request a fresh Legion here, and to send these men to a colony. But until then, you are one of the soldiers I can trust not to be subverted, Cassius. The others do not have your fortitude. We need to watch for men at risk, and rotate them away.”

“Yes…well, I think that-” Cassius began, but a voice from outside my quarters called for him. The Centurion disappeared for a moment outside. I heard the growl of a Dire Wolf.

Cassius reentered, his hand resting on his sword handle. “Legate, an Orc has come from Mamonic Gaul,” he said. “Under flag of truce.”

I had guessed that a permanent fort at the pass would not go unnoticed. I nodded, and signaled with my hand. “Send her in,” I said.

I went to the opposite side of my war table, standing so I was facing the door. I made a great effort of standing over my map of the region, stretching out my arms across its length and looking down on it with a furrowed brow, like I were in the midst of planning a campaign. Doubtless she would report my bearing to her superiors, and it was important to look healthy, strong, and authoritative. Posture during a meeting could be the difference between a quiet garrison or months of siege.

Two of my guards entered, and stood on either side of the door, pilums and shields in hand. A General always needed guards nearby when dealing with Barbarians, and especially an unmarried General with a mamono from fierce lands.

The Orc Maiden entered the tent, ducking to make it through the door. I gasped when I saw her, hoping no one noticed. She was tall, muscular, and shapely, with piercing black eyes that seemed to enter my mind with their intense gaze. A tuft of sable hair rose from her head and went across her face to one side, and two long fangs protruded from her lower jaw. Her green-skinned form gleamed in the lamplight of my quarters, and her muscles shifted and bulged with each move. And on her back, rising above her shoulder, was the handle of an ornate GreatSword. She was lethal, savage, and alluring all at once.

Metal armor and animal furs were draped over her form, making her look frightening and impressive. As a messenger she was probably a low-ranking noble or a scout, but by her thick Dire Bear pelt, I knew she was a warrior of great skill as well.

She stood before me, quietly, assessing me as a teacher might assess a student, or a hawk might watch a mouse. Her gaze, her eyes…suddenly, feelings I had suppressed as not-Roman began to surface.

“Speak, Warrior,” I said with more force than I should have. “I will hear the message of the Barbarian Orcs.”

“You are the Virgin General?” The Orc messenger asked.

My eye twitched. This was a name I was aware was used among the barbarians, but I was not fond of it. “I am General Titus Claudianus,” I snapped. “Who are you?”

“I am a messenger of Shakla Ku, War Chief of the Tribes of Mamonic Gaul,” the Orc answered fiercely. “It is in her name that I speak.”

I raised an eyebrow. The Orc Warrior’s Latin was flawless, and she spoke with even an aristocratic diction. Everything about the Orc scout intrigued me. “I have heard of Shakla Ku. She has caused quite a stir among the barbarians.”

“She is the hope of a Unified Gaul,” the Orc Warrior replied. “Shakla Ku has heard of you as well, General Titus Claudianus. She has heard of your skill in war, your cunning in battle, and your purity of heart. She has a proposal for you, and for your Roman Senate. I am prepared to deliver it, if you will give it just consideration.”

“Very well, speak for her,” I said, beckoning her to continue with my hand.

“She will take you as her husband,” the Orc warrior said. “In exchange, she will sign a treaty with Rome, allowing your Senate to keep the lands east of the GoldLeaf river.”

“We are west of the GoldLeaf river,” I said patiently. “I am to marry, and you will take the western half of the province?”

“This is the best deal Rome shall get,” The warrior said.

I laughed. “I see. Do I get to have any input on this?” I asked.

“Assenting to the proposal would please the War Chief,” The warrior said. “Shakla Ku has heard of your exploits, and had an earnest desire to meet you.”

“Oh certainly,” I said dryly. “I’m sure her interest has nothing to do with this hill fort at all.”

The Orc Messenger recoiled, and her nostrils flared. “Orcs are honorable, Roman. We do not connive or deceive men for such things as hills or forts.”

“I meant to cast no aspersions,” I said. “But one could see where her interests intersect on this place. A man has a right to connect such a thing, does he not?”

The Orc Warrior nodded. “It is a just belief, I will concede. She desires to add your gifts to our Tribe, to make it mighty as Rome is mighty. She is prepared to offer a treaty with Rome, pledging our swords and axes as allies, and to offer you personally fifty oxen and ten Dire Wolves.”

“If I am thrall to a savage Orc woman, what would I do with fifty oxen?” I asked.

The Orc girl smiled. “You would have ten Dire Wolves, also,” she added.

“Romans do not ride on wolfback,” I said.

“No; your city’s founder merely suckled at one’s teats,” she said playfully. “I think you would take to it quite well: there really is nothing like riding on the frostplains on a wolf, the cold air in your lungs as you pass through the fog of your wolf’s breath. You would look good as a shirtless wolfrider, I think.”

I cleared my throat, putting aside an impure thought about this comely messenger. “I think not,” I said.

“Well, you can warm her bed with cattle and wolves to your name, or you can do it without. Either way, your future is the same,” she said.

I felt my heart begin to quicken at the thought of one of these tall, muscular savages lording over me. In fact, I found this fiery messenger to be a prime specimen. I shook my head free of such thoughts. It was not Roman.

“Tell the War chief that I appreciate her offer, but that Roman men do not prostitute themselves for cattle and wolves.”

She grinned. “Perhaps not for cattle and wolves, but Septimus has shown us all what whores your governors can be. You would prefer gold, as he does, then?” She asked.

“He and I share no tastes,” I said with a growl. “And it is against Roman Law to bribe a Roman official.”

“You should explain that to Septimus. Shakla Ku would not be bribing a Roman official, she would be purchasing a husband,” she said.

“Romans do not sell their citizens,” I said. I smirked. “I would…consider negotiating a dowry.”

“We would not,” the young Orc said. Her nostrils flared again. “A dowry implies that she will live under your roof. That is unacceptable. This is a groom price. We are not timid and fluffy girls who need to cower before a man and beg for his affections. We take men, and we own them. You will be owned, General. Conquered. There will be no divorce. Either by gold or force of arms, you will belong to War chief Shakla Ku.”

I smiled, privately allowing myself to enjoy the thought of this young Orc warrior straddling me. The War Chief could not hope to be more comely.

“We shall have to agree to disagree on that. Take the offer back to your War Chief,” I said. “I will assent for a dowry of, let’s say…four thousand, thousand drachma.”

“For that much, we could purchase your whole Senate,” the Orc girl said dryly.

“Depending on who you speak to in Rome, you may be able to get four thousand, thousand drachma if you take them,” I said with a smirk. “But that is my price. Perhaps you think it high, but I place a high value on my virtue.”

“She views your virtue as something to smash,” The Orc Warrior said. “She will not agree to the price, and will prepare to take you by force.”

“You have seen our fortifications. You know that is folly,” I replied. “Attacking this position is hopeless.”

The Orc Warrior looked about and sighed. “I will concede that,” she said. “But I don’t think it will dissuade her.”

“Then there is nothing more to it,” I said. I leaned in to my table. “Now, I am curious about you.”

Her eyes lit up, and there was a hint of red to her green cheeks. “Me?” She asked, betraying a note of pleasure at the question. She crossed her legs as she faced me, and folded her arms. “What do you wish to know?”

“You are well-spoken in Latin. I am curious where you learned it,” I said.

“My father was a Greek slave,” she said with pride. I had never heard anyone not only unashamed, but proud of such a thing.

“He was a learned scholar,” she continued. “My mother attacked a docked ship near the Belgae coast and took him as a husband. He taught me Latin and Greek, and about Roman law and custom.”

“Perfect as Roman Law is, that remains an odd thing for a foreign father to teach in the wilderness,” I said.

“A necessary thing. He was very, very certain that Roman legions would march on us,” the Orc Warrior replied. “He wanted us to be ready to resist you, so that what happened to his homeland didn’t happen to us. He said that we must know you to defeat you.”

“Ah. A liberated slave has taught you the evils of Rome, then?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Quite the opposite. He taught me to be fascinated by you, and I am. All of your parading and metal eagles…it’s adorable,” she said. “But you are pushy and assertive, and that is not proper in men.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what is proper for a man in Mamonic Gaul: to be a bed slave?”

The Orc Warrior’s black eyes sparkled. “If he so chooses. Men are supposed to be relaxed, and tough. They are builders and defenders, bulwarks against the rains and storms of the world. They solve problems and keep us safe. My father showed his worth quickly to my mother in that respect. There is much of this in the Romans, but there is a desire to conquer, to loot, and to defile also. You are such…men.”

I laughed. “We are what we are. At any rate, you have my offer – I would accept a dowry,” I hesitated, then let my heart speak. “If your War Chief is half as charming as her messenger, she will make a fine wife indeed.”

The Orc Warrior’s face became as red as an Orc’s can get, and a very large grin broke out on her face, revealing very sharp teeth. She giggled like a demure Kitsune courtesan, and batted her eyelashes. “I can assure you that such comments will only make her want to possess you more, Legate. I shall tell her what you have said,” she replied.

She bowed to me, then turned and walked for the door swiftly. I could not help but admire her tight and muscular rear as she exited, and the way it gently swayed. Even though she walked with a warrior’s swiftness, her form still flowed with a woman’s grace, hypnotizing me as she moved.

The Orc breezed through the door, past my guards and past Cassius, and they followed after her with a start. I heard her mount onto a snarling unseen wolf, and then take off into the darkness. I stared at the door, and at the charming Orc Warrior. I had expected her to sound like a harsh, guttural cavewoman, but instead she was polished. Strong. And her eyes…that stare…

My scribe Phillip emerged from the shadows of my quarters, from among the shelves of books. He was looking down at an unsent letter unconvincingly with a furrowed brow. I knew he had in fact been listening the entire time.

“Out with it, you nag,” I said.

“Why did you suggest a dowry?” Phillip asked pointedly.

“Politics,” I said. I walked to my desk in the far corner and poured myself a cup of wine. “I knew an Orc War Chief would never accept such an arrangement. Honor is too important to them. But now, we look reasonable, and when her armies dash against our stronghold, her people shall see her vain desire, and see that she could have had what she wanted but for her pride.”

“This all is predicated on us defeating her army,” Phillip said.

I laughed and gulped my wine, finding it refreshing despite its near-vinegar taste. “Haven’t I always won?” I asked.

“You have…” my scribe said with measured words.

I turned to him and narrowed my eyes. “You have something else to say?” I asked.

“Just that we are very isolated, and we are not at the same strength as we were before,” Phillip said.

“Why, because Labienus is not here?” I asked with a growl. “The man is a genius, but often did he rely upon me, and many of our campaigns used my strategies, not his.”

“It is not that; your command is well-deserved,” Phillip said. “But Septimus’ is not. Despite his Tribunate.”

“He was a horrid Tribune. He tried to murder his rivals, and he burned down a temple. That man should not manage a festival,” I growled. “Labienus favored him because his gangs granted advantages during the squabbles in Rome.”

“His support was critical to getting Labienus his Consulship,” Phillip added.

I grit my teeth. “In six months he’s put the province in an uproar. We must suffer through another year and a half of this buffoon, while Labienus is Consul and prepares for a new campaign to Dacia.”

“Septimus will never last. Already his extortion is a scandal, even in Rome. It is no wonder this Shakla Ku finds so many eager allies,” Phillip said. “The question is if Rome replaces him before the province is lost.”

“Despite the injury to my honor done by Labienus, I will make sure that neither Shakla Ku nor her horde will get past us,” I said. “And while we are in our stronghold, she has little chance.”

“We may be trying to stop the ocean. We have only one legion, and if these reports about the Orc coalition are accurate…” Phillip began.

“I doubt they are,” I said with a handwave. “There is no way there are one hundred thousand orcs, oni, and ushi in the wilderness. Uniting the orc tribes would be hard enough, but the different races? Even if there were such a broad alliance, they don’t have the logistics to move that kind of army so far,” I continued. “Mamonic Gaul is leagues across, and bringing a hundred thousand troops to the TransAlps would be a huge undertaking for Rome, let alone the barbarians.”

“Yet if the force is only a tenth of that, ten thousand orcs will still outnumber us two to one,” Phillip said.

“We can handle such odds on this ground,” I replied. “Any entry into the province must go past this hill. An assault would fail with a half million warriors, even if it were all beasts like the Ushi Oni. You need siege equipment, earthworks, engineering…the savage mamono don’t have any of that.”

“This Shakla Ku seems different,” Phillip said. He held up a paper. “We know from the Dwarves that she has been seeking aid from them, specifically in trying to hire armorers and engineers.”

“And the Dwarves immediately told us,” I said. “Tribes have sought such help before, and it has never helped. In any case, we must defend this spot. Even if she has siege engines and a hundred thousand troops, we must hold this spot as long as we can. We should prepare riders, and have them be ready to ride for Harbo if there is any sign of Orcish encroachment.”

“That would be prudent,” Phillip said. “What worries me is she has allies on both sides of the pass, according to our informants,” Phillip said.

“Cassius reports that the tribes seem contented – for now,” I said. “So long as we hold this spot, they will not rise up.”

I smirked. “I’ll say that if Shakla is half as impressive as her young messenger, then she is a formidable Orc indeed.”

Phillip laughed. “The girl is a bit too brash and forward for my tastes, but some men are fond of such things,” he said.

“Yes…” I grunted. “Some men…” I did not turn to look at him.

“Those men should be careful, however; Rome has deep memories of the days when Gallic Oni carried off men as husbands. Your people are not fond of men who submit to females,” Phillip said with care.

I cleared my throat. “Nor should they be,” I said. I swallowed, hoping to send my unwelcome thoughts down from my mind and into my stomach.

We worked on dispatches the rest of the day and into the evening. There was much to do, as I had spent the last several days overseeing the improvement of the fortifications, in some cases placing rock or cutting wood myself. For the most part I was pleased with what my men had created, but now there were many messages to send and entries to mark. Throughout it all I recalled the Orc Warrior. What a pleasant, cultured, yet alluring girl. And yet, I did not want to break her as a Roman should.

We worked until the candles burned down, and my eyes began to burn. I dismissed Phillip, then I retired to my room. I knelt at my altar for my nightly prayers. I stared at my gods, wondering if my deficiencies were why I was now so exiled. Perhaps this is why I was denied the governorship, I thought.

Why did I look at that supple, strong orc messenger, and her tight naked abdominals, and want to worship them with the same fervor that I showed to the gods in my shrine? Why did I think of kneeling before her, and kissing her thighs, and the glorious place where they met? Of feeling at her bicep and marveling at her strength?

I stared at my wooden gods. Jupiter, Juno, and Mars stared back at me, a family. It was something that had been on my mind of late. I wanted a wife, and children.

And yet, I had little interest in having a good, dutiful Roman wife, like a holstaur or unicorn. I had no ill will toward them; they were wonderful and sweet, excellent wives and mothers. But I had always wanted something else. I would hear stories of men carried off by giantesses or Manticores, and I found these stories fueled the fantasies of my nights. It was what I truly wanted. But how could I, a Roman General, debase myself so? Was it any wonder the gods denied me a command.

I sighed. Perhaps if they denied me a command, they would see fit to fulfill my other desire. “Noble gods,” I whispered. “If you see fit, let me…let me see that Orc Messenger girl gain. I just wish to talk to her.”

I could see in the blank faces of the wooden idols that they didn’t believe me.

“Alright, you know my heart, and my true desire. I do not know what draws me to these savage, strong women, but I feel to fight it is to deny my nature. I know I am a man of Rome, but can I not be a man who loves a mamono in his way?”

The wooden expressions were unchanging, as always. Perhaps they judged me with disgust. Or perhaps they were listening, receptive.

“I want…” I continued. “I want the Orc Messenger,” I said. I sighed. “I don’t even know her name. But I shall sacrifice a hundred rams to you if you should grace me with her favor.”

I bowed my head in prayer, aware that my request was impossible. I was a Roman General; to allow myself to he debased would debase Rome, and I could not allow that. I heard my door open, and boots thud on my floorboards.

“Legate, a message from the Governor,” Cassius said in the doorway to my bedroom.

I stood, and entered my warroom, where a messenger who was familiar to me stood with arms behind his back, at attention. He was one of Septimus’ men, but he had been with Labienus before that. Phillip entered from his room, eyes half-shut with sleep.

“Let’s have it,” I commanded. The messenger saluted, and handed me the note. It was a small rolled scroll with a hardened purple wax seal holding it from unfurling.

I examined the seal and the crow sigil on it. I felt the familiar irritation I always felt when I saw the bloated governor’s mark. With a grunt of annoyance I cracked it, and unfurled the document. I felt a stone sink in my stomach as I read the coded words.

“We are to move out at once,” I said in disbelief.

“Move?” Phillip asked. “Leave our fortification?”

“The Governor wants to mount a punitive offensive onto the Cederci, in Northern Gaul,” I said. My hands and voice shook with rage. “They…offended him by not collecting enough taxes. We are to head to Harbo to muster with the other legions.”

“That is…” Phillip began.

“What, Ludicrous?!” I yelled. “Ruinous!? Yes, yes it is. If we leave this spot, this Shakla will have the opening she needs. She could threaten Rome itself!”

“You are certain these are his orders?” Phillip asked.

“It is in the cipher,” I said, handing Phillip the letter.

My scribe scanned the letter, and grunted. “I would not believe it if I didn’t see it,” he said. “This says we must depart at once.”

“Madness…” I intoned. “To abandon this ground in the face of an enemy force. I won’t I shall leave behind 5 cohorts.”

Cassius gasped in alarm. Phillip swallowed. “The letter says-” Phillip began.

“I know what the letter says,” I snapped. “I won’t sacrifice this ground. Septimus can rage at me, but I won’t give it up. A legion at half strength can hold this position for a year against an army ten times their size. He has seven other Legions at his command.”

“Sir, perhaps splitting our forces would be unwise,” Cassius said.

“I have no doubt whatsoever that it is unwise,” I replied. “But it is the best move that we can make. We’ll set out at first light, understood?”

Cassius snapped to attention and saluted.

The night fell, and I slept only with difficulty, stewing over Septimus and his foolishness. The chubby thief would lose the entire province. And worse still was the favor Labienus showed him over me.

Labienus. Once my dearest friend, the events had damaged our friendship beyond repair, and now I served him purely out of necessity. Somehow despite Septimus being the fool who ordered me off the hill, it was Labienus I was truly angry with. The very indignity that I should have to obey a Roman street thug filled me with fury.

Labienus had outmaneuvered me, for I had not realized we were doing maneuvers. I had been a loyal friend, he had schemed against me. He had always gotten the political connections, always promised to make introductions that never happened. I had gone from his equal to his client.

When I slept, my dreams were of my future meeting with Septimus. He was raging at me for only bringing half the legion, his gullet jiggling, when the door to the palace burst open. Orcs streamed in. They stuck a sword into Septimus’ chest, and he collapsed, then faded away back to Rome. The orcs surrounded me, and pressed in on me. They tore off my armor and stole away my sword.

And the dream changed. The Orc messenger was there, and we were in the woods. With a grin she leapt upon me, laughing. I struggled, but her strength was so great that I stood no chance. She began to rip off my clothes, then kiss me, then she reached down and grabbed my penis and began to tug and squeeze it. I moaned, and she stared into my eyes. Those dark eyes…

Morning mercilessly came before I did. I awoke and found my garments wet with my own discharge. Somehow the news of Septimus’ stupidity had not overpowered the strength of my desire in my dreams. Cursing, I washed myself and prepared for the day.

I called for the muster as the sun rose . Very irritated Legionaries began to gather and gear up, cursing as they left their permanent lodgings and prepared to descend the hill to a life of sleeping on the ground. I left Centurion Aelius in charge of the remaining armies. He was a good man, seasoned, and I knew he would be efficient while under siege (if such a thing were to happen).

Despite my misgivings, it was good to march after so many days on that dammed hill. The descent down into the valley was tough, sliding rocks and roots slowing us down.

We reached the valley and began the march westward for Harbo. It was fourteen days march to get from the fort to Harbo, a considerable journey.

I rode out with Cassius at my right hand. He was solemn. He had taken the news of our leaving hard, and looked deathly pale, even pained by something. Anguished. He clutched at an ankh around his neck. I had not thought him superstitious. Phillip stayed among the baggage train. I had considered leaving him in the fort, but then I thought I might need his counsel when it came to dealing with Septimus.

The end of our first day of marching came. The sun was setting and I began preparations to build our nightly fort. Our scouts had reported several good spots for fortifying, and I planned to use the site of one of our previous forts.

Cassius suggested first that we survey the area from one of the hilltops. I recalled the hill from our trip westward, and knew it commanded a good view of the area.

“It will be sensible to go up the hill and do a check,” Cassius said, still clutching his ankh. “It will let us observe on the local tribes, and see if there has been any movement.”

I nodded. “Let’s check it out, old friend,” I said.

He made no response but a nod, and gripped the ankh tightly. I frowned at his silver trinket and pointed. “Where did you get that, by the way?”

Cassius cleared his throat. “In a bazaar in Harbo. They insisted it is good luck,” he said.

“Has it worked?” I asked.

He looked around. “It doesn’t feel like it,” he said.

“Perhaps when we get atop the hill, it will show us a good spot, eh? Let’s go,” I said.

“Sir…” he said suddenly. His face looked dire.

“What is it, Cassius?” I asked.

He swallowed. “N-nothing,” he said.

“You have seemed in distemper since we left, Cassius,” I said. “It is most out of character. What is going on?”

He stared at me a moment, pained. “I…I am worried about the fort,” he said at last. “It is…foolish…but I have a terrible premonition. Last night I dreamed of a disaster, and could not sleep. I saw the fort in flames, and this morning, a crow landed upon the high wall and cawed.”

I was not normally given over to superstition, and neither was Cassius, but I had learned never to discount foreboding dreams. “We’ll dispatch a rider to survey the fort and make sure it is unmolested, then. But let us survey this site, first. I want to get into fortifications as soon as possible. I do not trust the locals here.”

Cassius exhaled. “You are a great General, Titus,” he said. “Worthy of much loyalty.”

I frowned. “Thank you, Cassius,” I said. “But your sentimentality is puzzling.”

“It is just the starkness of the vision, sir. The starkness…” he repeated. He smiled weakly. “I am fine, now.”

“If you’re sure…” I said.

“Yes, let us inspect the area,” Cassius said. He pointed up the hill. “It will grant us a good vantage, there.”

My guards stood at the base of the hill, securing it while Cassius and I walked to the top. It was not particularly high, and so climbing it was trivial, but it was high enough to command a view of the plains beyond the trees.

As I made my way to the edge of the muddy hilltop I looked out on the plain, and gasped. An army of green, brown, blue, and pink marched, five thousand strong, upon the plain, towards our position.

I turned back to Cassius, my eyes wide.

“Cassius!” I exclaimed. “Your fears are realized. An enemy army is almost-”

With loud cries, at least fifty Orc wolfriders emerged from the trees, charging up the hill and cresting it to reach the hilltop. Cassius and I were soon encircled, and below the hill I could hear the clanking of swords and cries of battle. I stood with my back to Cassius, and drew my sword.

“What in the hell-?” I began. “How did the scouts not see this?!” I shouted.

The answer came, stark and horrible.

Treachery.

“We have been betrayed, Cassius,” I said. “Quick, we must fall on our swords!”

Cassius said nothing, for the horde of wolfriders encircled us. They were too swift, and I realized I could never hope to cut off my armor and fall upon my blade before they overpowered me.

One of the Orc warriors came forward, mounted astride a black dog that was as tall as I was. She wore a thick headdress of animal bone and stretched leather, painted in heathen runes. A greatsword handle came out from behind her back, ornate with intricate Dwarven craftsmanship. She looked familiar. My heart leapt.

“Hello, General Titus,” The Orc Warrior called out from the mammoth Dire Wolf.

“You…” I said. “The messenger of Shakla Ku.”

She tilted her head back and laughed, making her headdress shake. “Yes, her ‘messenger’,” she said with a grin.

“If I had known-” I began.

“Yes: you could have captured me. Although in any case, it would end the same,” Shakla Ku said. “I had to see you for myself, to see what kind of man you were,” Shakla said. “I knew I had to have you the minute that I saw you.”

I raised my shield, reeling, my prayer to the gods on my mind. What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to be defiant, or should I simply toss down my weapons? I chose to lift my shield and sword. “I’m glad you were not disappointed,” I said with a growl.

She jumped down off her wolf with a jiggle of her muscles and and a jingling of the metal hooks and knives on her belt. “Not at all. Although I am miffed now. I was counting on you bringing your whole Legion off the hill. My plan was for my main force to ambush you from behind. Instead this all became very dicey.”

She took off her headdress with reverence, and I saw her long plume of sable hair. She pulled her scabbard from her back, then tugged her greatsword free of it, tossing it on the ground. “I shall conquer you, and take you as my husband.”

“The hell you will!” I shouted.

“Do not be cross with me,” Shakla said, switching the hand which held her long sword and twirling. “I simply had to get you off of that hill.”

“You…got me off?” I squinted.

She grinned, holding up her hand and showing me her fingers. My heart sank as I saw the metal band on her pinky finger. A signet ring.

“Where did you get that?” I asked, horrified.

“Had it made. The Dwarves can make a better one than what Septimus has on his finger. It was expensive, but well worth the cost,” Shakla said. “Really, it’s amazing how much stock men like you put in these silly things.”

“But how? How did you know its intricacies?” I asked.

“The Ushi captured one of Septimus’ runners, and got a copy of the unperturbed seal in wax. You Roman boys sing like canaries in bed, and the messenger whispered a nice tune into his Ushi’s ear, telling us of the code. Our Dwarves were able to fabricate the seal based on its impression, and our new agent donned his uniform and dropped off a quite different message than what he set out with. As the messenger was known to you, it only added to the authenticity.”

I swallowed. “But the cipher, and the codes…he wouldn’t know them.”

“Yes, that took time as well…” Shakla said. She looked over at Cassius, whom I realized had drifted away from me and closer to the encircling Orcs.

An Orc woman walked up behind my First Spear Centurion. She wrapped her arms around his waist and neck possessively, and he rubbed her arm with affection. Both of them stared at me, Cassius with sad eyes, his Orc mate with defiance.

“C-Cassius?!” I rasped, beyond shock. I took a step back as I stared at him in horror. It made sense. He was gone recently, his reports…

Cassius looked pained and disgusted, and nearly doubled over under my gaze. His Orc waifu clutched him tightly, stroking him, a look of concern on her face.

“Hear Shakla Ku out, General,” Cassius said, composing himself. “The Republic offers us nothing but hard ground, cold bedrolls, and endless marching. The Orcs have given me a doting lover, a warm bed, and nights of endless passion. You have suffered indignities at the hands of the Republic, and your Patron. But Shakla Ku…”

Lifting my sword, I advanced on him, shaking in fury. Shakla was swiftly between us, her sword raised.

“We are not finished with our business yet, Virgin General,” she said.

“Stop calling me that!” I snarled.

“I intend to, very, very soon,” she replied.

I raised my shield and sword. Shakla brought her wide blade above her head.

“Then strike at me,” I said, pointing with my sword. “You’ll be forced to kill me.”

“You won’t get away that easily, Titus. I won’t let you. Some mamono find fighting their future husband in battle to be thrilling, but I do not,” Shakla said. “I much prefer what comes after. This is unnecessary, and I would prefer you to accept your fate.”

“That will not happen,” I shot back.

“Very well,” she said, bringing her sword in front of her and clasping it with two hands. “We shall do this the hard way.”

We circled for a moment, I with my sword and shield, she with her greatsword. Even as she stalked about me, I was struck by the art of her movement. Her every motion was fluid and perfect, and her bulging muscles gave proof of her raw power. At any time she could explode in fury, and this intrigued me.

But I was a Roman General. I needed to focus. I would not be taken. I told myself that, insisted on it. I would not. I could not.

Our slow circling became a combat in itself, to see who would strike first. Her eyes locked with mine, and in them I saw something terrifying.

They sparkled. She knew. Eyes cannot lie, and as I saw her fierce and conquering heart, as she saw my timid and sensitive one. I saw her clenched teeth turn into a smile. I realized how close she was to winning…

How close I was to surrendering.

“No!” I shouted. With a ferocious cry I rushed forward, shield up and sword poised. I thrust straight for her center.

My assault was furious, and Shakla was forced to back away. Though I might have seemed reckless, my onslaught had been measured. I had hoped she would attempt to counter, but she was too canny to be drawn into my trap. I rushed forward with my shield, hoping to push her to the ground.

Shakla, however, planted her feet, and when I collided with her it was like trying to push over a tree with deep roots. I staggered, the air knocked from my chest.

With a growl, she pushed me back with force. I fell down to my knees, and barely twirled away from her grasping hand.

She swung at my leg in my retreat, and the flat of her sword smacked my knee, nearly toppling me. I clenched my teeth more in aggravation than pain.

“Now look what happened!” Shakla exclaimed with distress and anger as my knee began to bruise. “Stop this at once! I do not wish to harm you!”

“You already have,” I shot back. “You deceived me. Why should I believe you in anything?”

I recovered, and struck out at her with a swift thrust to back her off. Shakla deflected the blow with a downward twirl that nearly spiraled me.

“It is fair to lie to a man, to make him yours,” Shakla said, very matter of factly. “For love and marriage, everything is fair game.”

“Do not speak to me of love!” I shouted defiantly. I dodged away from a follow up swing, the metal cutting the air above me. “You have no right!”

“Why not? I love you,” she said.

My traitorous heart leapt. And though I reeled, she did not press her attack “W-why would you say that?” I asked.

“Because I do,” she replied as she took up a fighting stance. “An exotic man of civilization, a commander and skilled combatant. A man equal to myself in many respects. Our children will be strong and smart. There is much to love.”

“You don’t know me,” I said, aware that I myself had prayed for her the night before.

“My father taught me that love at first sight was the greatest love. I have wanted to meet you since I heard of your exploits, and I have loved you since I met you in your quarters. I have seen your soul – do you deny it?”

I grunted, my mind reeling from this buxom Orc warrior who both frightened and aroused me. I thought back to the prayer I had made last night, a prayer from the depths of my heart. Was this the will of the gods, or was I deluding myself? Was this a pious reward, or was I accepting dishonor?

“Do you feel nothing for me?” She asked as she effortlessly caught my sword arm. She tossed me to the opposite side of the ring of Orcish warriors which encircled us, and I slid in the mud.

I perceived fear in her words, and I realized that if I said that I felt nothing for her, it would be the easiest and most cutting way to harm her. It would shatter her. Break her. I could then dispatch her, and turn a ruinous defeat into a resounding victory for the Republic. But I could not do it. Even though a Roman General would. Labienus would. But I was not Labienus…

“You have humiliated me,” I said instead. It sounded weak, but it was true.

“I’ll note that my subterfuge was not entirely effective: the fortress is still garrisoned, and quite well.”

I took a measure of comfort in that. “At least I can claim I am not a total buffoon,” I said.

“I do not think you are a buffoon, or even close to one. If you’ll allow me to be immodest, I think that my plan to get you was pretty damned good, .”

I sighed. “It was…” I conceded. “You fooled me.”

“But such is life. Often wives fool their husbands, and vice versa. No one will ever say your defeat is a humiliation,” Shakla replied. “They shall instead believe that you must be a formidable man to be my consort.”

“And why will they care who your consort is?” I asked.

“Because I am going to conquer all of Gaul.”

Her attack grew furious, and I found myself fighting to avoid being overwhelmed. We sparred back and forth for a moment, swords clanking, cutting air, or striking shield. I could only marvel at her strength and skill as we fought. My body grew exhausted from the force of her hits and the intensity of her assault.

As she tossed me about and swatted me around, my resistance – both physical and mental – was breaking. I was beginning to wrestle with a part of myself that wanted to lose, that wanted to see and feel what this gorgeous Orc woman would do to me.

I grew outwardly more aggressive, but the struggle within was going the opposite way. I was becoming both careless, but also more timid in truly striking at her. I did not want to mar her beautiful flesh, or blemish her wondrous skin.

While I was using every trick I had learned in fighting monsters such as her, I found the young Orc as knowledgeable as I was, and much stronger and more energetic. I was growing tired, where the contest seemed to be making her grow more eager, as if my flagging strength – knowing I was closer to breaking – was arousing greater strength in her.

She brought her blade down in an overhead strike, a hurtling bulwark of metal truly frightening in its descent, yet I held my ground. The blade caught the top of my shield and cleaved into it with a loud thud, and I felt the wood cracking along my arm. The merged sword and shield were lodged together, and so I let go of my shield as she let go of her sword.

She grasped my sword arm about the wrist, her large yet feminine hand clenching down so tightly I nearly opened my hand and releases my sword. In spite if this, I gripped my sword tighter, and fought to wrest my arm free. Her strength was incredible, and I was exhausted. She stepped forward and swept me with her leg, sending me into the mud. She was on top of me even as I fell, grinning.

“NOW this is getting good!” She said, and I found by my beating heart that I agreed. “No more fighting, no more worrying about pointy ends going in you, or you heading to the Black Arch. Now just…fun.”

“No, no!” I shouted, more at my hardening manhood than at her.

“Hah, like that word means anything coming from a man,” she said. She clasped at my sword with her free hand, and soon she had wrested it from my hands.

With a smile she flipped my sword to hold it by the handle. She held the sword aloft, and let out a cry of joy and victory. The other Orcs raised up their voices, joining her cry. She made a motion with her hand, and the Orcs turned and descended the hill.

When all were gone, she looked down at me with a grin. She ran the blade along the straps of my armor, and I felt the constraints relax.

“I am cutting off your clothes with your own sword,” she whispered in my ear. I let out a groan. I was going to be raped.

I tried to struggle even as my penis grew hard, but I was exhausted from our fight, and Shakla was far too strong, her muscles too powerful. Fighting her was had been like digging trenches for hours. She hit hard, and my shield arm was very sore.

“N…no…” I whimpered.

“Easy, sweet…” Shakla said, her lips gently curled. She shushed me like a toddler, putting green fingers on my lips. “You are making your cute pink skin turn crimson.”

At the bottom of the hill, I could hear the cries of men being overpowered and taken in the darkness, the sounds of tunics being torn. The men did not stand a chance. The mamono had ambushed them.

“Take me if you must, but my soldiers are innocent!” I pleaded.

Shakla laughed. “Innocent? Legionaries? They are good boys, but don’t lose your mind, sweetling.”

“They should not be debased…”

“Debasing them is making them live glum and sexless on a hilltop, instead of being drained and cuddled in a cozy hut, where boys belong. Besides, why should they receive some protection of their virtue when you shall not?” Shakla said. “You shall receive the highest honors.”

“If you hold affection for me, prove it. Hear my plea,” I said.

She stared at me, her dark eyes soft. “You know what it means to have an army, and the limits of what a commander can ask of her warriors. I could no sooner tell my sisters in battle to stop from raping their men than they could tell me to stop from raping you. Besides, I am disinclined to do so. We need some Roman ferocity in the next generation of mamono, and you Romans need a healthy dose of humility.”

Her cutting finished, she ripped off my armor with force, tossing the metal aside. It landed with a loud crash and thud. I lay before her in my tunic, a rope belt all that separated me from being naked before her eyes. She would see my swollen erection, and she would know that she had won.

“Let’s get you out of this,” she said. She gently grasped the rope of my tunic. “I’d cut them off, but we need you clothed, sadly.”

I fought to protect the rope, but she giggled, and forced her mouth down onto mine. A moment later an orc tongue was licking mine, and her fangs were gently gnashing on my lips.

My strength gave out, and I shut my eyes, aware that the rope around my waist hand gone slack, and that my penis was exposed to the air. She broke our kiss to go and inspect her new toy.

“Ohhhh look at that…” she said happily. “And it’s already swollen! How very flattering…”

Her hand wrapped about it and gave it a squeeze. I arched my back and gasped as pleasure flowed from her calloused yet smooth hands into my penis.

“Gods, it is so hard…” she said with genuine amazement.

I could only stare up at her with wide eyes. She leaned down and licked my face, then plant another wet and sloppy kiss upon my mouth.

She worked my mouth and cock for a little while, all while I reeled and tried to find the courage to continue my resistance. I was a Roman. Roman men did not submit. But gods how good her tongue felt against my own, or her hand against my genitals.

“I am going to rape you here, in the mud,” Shakla said when she broke the kiss. She licked my face yet again with a hungry gaze.

She stood up, and with a fluid move she unclasped her armor and tore off her furs. She tossed them aside, kicking off her sandals. She stood before me a moment, naked, her abs glistening in the moonlight. Her breasts were firm and full, gorgeous orbs of heaven. Her thighs were flawless – muscular and powerful as a woman’s thighs should be. I wanted to kneel before them and lick them, lick all the sweat from them.

“I can’t…” I managed to find the strength to say.

“Indeed. You can’t,” She said, leaning down and covering me. Green skin met my pale skin, and our sweat mingled. “You can’t resist me,” she said.

“I…I’ll fight…” I rasped.

She grinned, and flicked my swollen penis with her hand. The pleasure of this incidental, casual touch made me almost moan. “No, you won’t. You won’t even test me,” Shakla said. She gripped my penis and squeezed . “I have you marked, Titus Claudianus. I see the kind of soul you struggle to hide. Your manhood lays it bare.”

I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and her grip. “Please…stop…” I pleaded.

“Why? You don’t like to talk about your true feelings, but I know them. You have a soul as warm as jarred sunshine,” Shakla said, idly feeling at my testicles. “I am looking forward to decanting it and letting it breathe. I think it shall be most amazing once it can freely express itself…” she giggled, and gave my cock a squeeze. “…much like our mutual friend, here.”

“I…I am a man of Rome!” I shouted. “A soldier and a citizen!”

“And I love you for it. What is that delightful word you Romans have? Oh right, Imperium…” she mused. “A funny word, a word which means righteous, total control. So very Roman. I possess it over you. I rule you with Imperium, with righteous control.”

“N-no…” I whispered. Her hands grabbed my wrists, holding them down with such force my arms sank into the mud. I could see her hard biceps, green and slick with sweat. My gods, I thought…

She stared in my eyes with her black pupils. “You will not resist me,” she said with such command that I almost nodded.

This Orc War Chief was -mercilessly- forcing me to submit from within. I wanted so badly to try, just try, to struggle against her, but her eyes…and her voice, and her manner, all seemed to overpower my very reason. She knew that she owned me, and that I was hers. She knew the truth. A man cannot struggle against the truth.

This young, hungry orc woman was going to fuck me.

“I am your Wife now, Titus. And you cannot resist me,” Shakla said.

Her muscles pressed down on me, and I could feel her strength. Fighting her would be futile, beyond pointless, but it would be resisting. Showing defiance. Voicing my own right to resist.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t bring myself to resist. Her clenched fangs, her hungry eyes, her muscles, and the savagery of her form all made me a slave.

She settled over me, positioning her hole above the throbbing tip of my manhood. She lowered herself and I penetrated into her, poking through and into the walls of smooth, wet muscle. She panted as I entered her, and as the pain filled her she began to kiss me. I felt my crotch dampen beneath a strong gush of Orcish juice.

She let out a girlish cry of joy, and put her hands on my chest. She smiled down at me, and began to lift her pelvis and slam down, pushing my cock into the smooth and strong walls of her vagina.

She rose and fell, rose and fell, and as she did so her breasts jiggled and her muscles rippled. Each time she slammed down her sex on my shaft, it drove me a little deeper into the mud.

As she watched me eyeing her breasts, she smiled, and leaned down, letting them dangle in my face, putting my cheeks into her cleavage.

“Lick my breasts,” she commanded, panting, still slamming down on me.

Where before I was powerless to act, now I obeyed with alacrity. I buried my head into green Orcish tits, licking at them and sucking on her large nipples. They were so smooth and round, and they pressed in and wrapped about my face like soft and firm pillows. I lost myself in the act of worship even as my bruised and battered cock continued to be milked by the strong uterine walls of my new Orcish Mistress.

The strength and power of Shakla went to pumping herself up and down onto my bruised and swollen manhood. I moaned into her breasts, and she growled triumphantly. Her growls began to grow louder and louder, and she slammed herself down on me with more and more fury. I could feel her pulsing. My own manhood was beginning to throb with greater intensity, and I could feel an orgasm building. My first orgasm, which would be taken from me whether I wanted it or not.

That thought pushed me over the edge. My powerlessness, my total surrender, made me lose my control.

“Oh, gods!” I shouted. I turned away, but she grabbed my chin and forced me to look at her.

Shakla stared into my eyes. “I want to see…I want to see through your eyes and into your soul as I take your seed.” she rasped as she continued to pump on me. She leaned in, putting her face near mine, and began to slam down on me, drawing involuntary cries from my lips.

“I’m…I’m…” I whimpered helplessly as her eyes invaded my soul and saw everything.

“Shout my name!” She said, almost a plea, as my entire soul became fixated upon obeying her every wish.

“SHAKLAAA!” I shouted. My voice turned into a plaintive cry. I stared into her eyes, my own bulging as my heart pounded. I came. I erupted inside her, her smooth womb clenching down on me with force, and the sheer power of her uterine walls sucking the cum from my testicles.

The eruption of my semen inside of her, coupled with watching my total surrender and the domination of my soul, was enough to send her over the edge, and she pushed herself up, arching her back and yelling out in frantic cries of joy as a powerful orgasm overtook her.

Where my orgasm had been an act of surrender and control of my manhood to my Orc bride, her orgasm was raw female power being directed upon me, sending me awash in the might of an Orcish climax. She controlled me with her mind and I was controlled by her urges.

I had always worried that this moment of total domination would fill me with shame, but instead I felt fulfilled. Shakla was my Mistress, the dominant power over my body, mind, and soul. I was hers, and in all three parts of me felt free.

She worked through her orgasm slowly, my body having been rocked by her raw convulsions. My seed sloshed inside her, and she clutched at her abs with wide eyes, staring at me with amazement and wonder.

“It…it is like liquid joy and happiness…” she said, amazed. “Oh, I always knew boys were special, but my gods…”

She collapsed onto me and buried her face into my neck, kissing and slurping at me. I wrapped my arms around her solid yet soft form. My fingertips traced along her green skin, reveling in the smoothness. She wrapped her arms around my neck and waist, and I was surrounded by Orc biceps.

We lay there upon the ground, panting, coming to terms with what our bodies had just done, what we had just experienced. Shakla was very tender with me, kissing me reverently, stroking my body. I ran my fingers through her sable hair. It was soft and slick, and as I put my face to it I could smell the smoke of Orcish bonfires. She kissed my chest, licking at it with her tongue.

I heard paw pads approaching on the mud, and an orc warrior appeared in view on a panting gray Dire Wolf. It was the Orc wife of Cassius. The Orc put a fist to her breast and bowed. Shakla looked up at her, unconcerned that she was naked.

“War Chief, the new husbands have been secured,” she said.

“Thank you Renata. How many warriors were sent back?”

“Some of our sisters fell, but not many. The ‘fight’ was not much to speak of,” Renata replied.

“Were many men sent to the Black Arch?” She asked.

“Only a few of the nastier ones.” the Orc said with a smile. “The men saw us, and though they are fierce and disciplined, we outnumbered them, and they lacked leadership. And once men began to be taken, began to be stripped and fucked even in battle, the others began to see the appeal. They did not resist for long before they began to…actively reciprocate. Now it is just wrestling matches to see who is dominant in the relationship. The girls are winning…for the most part.”

“And how is Cassius?” She asked.

“He is distraught,” Renata said. She looked down at me with imploring eyes from her wolf mount. “Please forgive him, General. He has agonized over this beyond your knowing.”

I stared forward, saying nothing. Shakla may have made her dominion over me, but Cassius had…

“Please, General,” she implored, and the Orc Warrior’s voice almost broke. “You have no idea the agony he is in. He has done all this in the interests of loyalty.”

“Loyalty, aye,” I said. I clenched my jaw. “But not to me.”

“General!” She exclaimed, almost in tears.

“Enough, Renata,” Shakla said. “Titus is still wrapping his head around things. Cassius will be fine. When the…wrestling has finished, we must get the group together and head to our redoubt. Tell those forces not engages to get ready to disembark. We will be there presently.”

“Yes, War Chief,” Renata said. She stared at me a moment with a mixture of sorrow and anger, then turned. She brought her wolf down the hill and through the trees.

“Cassius did not betray you,” Shakla said quietly when she had gone. “Indeed, he has shown great loyalty to you. It took a great deal of time to convince him to aide us in your taking, and I had to convince him that I would be good to you. He was also the one who came up with the idea to push your claim.”

“What claim?” I asked.

“Your claim on TransAlping Gaul,” she said.

I frowned. “I have no claim to TransAlping Gaul. Why would I?” I asked.

“The Governorship should have been yours – Cassius told us that. Labienus owed it to you. And yet he chose Septimus. We shall install you as Governor of the province,” Shakla said.

“It doesn’t work that way,” I said. “The Senate determines who is Governor, and they would not accept one installed by barbarian tribes.”

“Oh, they will send armies,” Shakla agreed. “But you have invaded enough territory to know that wars are funny things. A pretext – no matter how weak – is better than no pretext at all, and can convince men to fight for you even when it is paper thin, if it benefits them.”

“It won’t work,” I said.

“Cassius says that the Legions are loyal to you, not to Septimus,” Shakla said.

“They are loyal to Labienus,” I said. “They will think little of a buffoon who walked into an ambush and got his men massacred.”

“Not massacred. Married,” Shakla said. “The distinction is very important. Allow the Legionaries to marry, and they will flock to your banner. Your soldiers are so horny and hard up that they practically flock to our side as it is. This battle reveals how close the veterans are to the breaking point. Once a General tells them that it is okay? You will win their support.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “But Romans do not trust foreigners. They will see me as a traitor.”

“I disagree. Septimus’ looting is a scandal, even by Roman standards. The colonists and the subjects both despise him,” Shakla said. “You, on the other hand, have a reputation for honesty and strength.”

I put a hand to my chin. “If I were to…claim…that I had sided with you of my own volition, I could claim that I did it to stop the excesses of Septimus…” I said, searching.

“Then, you and I would rule a united Gaul,” Shakla said. “With Roman knowledge and my people’s fierceness, we would become a mighty nation.”

“Would we rule together?” I asked. “I assumed I was to be beneath you.”

“In our nightly embrace, yes. I am your Mistress, and you are my adored Slave. That is only proper. We Orcs believe all things have a male or female sphere, where a male or female must submit to the other,” Shakla said. “Males should lead in many fields and places, Orcs in others. A War Chief cannot be a true War Chief without her man ruling the males spheres in her name. I need a man as capable as I am for his sphere.”

“What is my sphere?” I asked.

“I have only been able to organize as I have because of the Romans that we have grabbed,” Shakla said. “They have improved our capability with logistics and supply. And you Romans know how to build. Building is as important to war as destruction is. You will help us fortify, build siege weapons, and organize supply. Now that we have you and this Legion cuddling up to us at night, we will be unstoppable. We will have men in those spheres who know the secrets of Rome.”

“All this talk of spheres…” I said. “You must explain them to me, which is mine and which is yours.”

“We can start with this one. We are on the battlefield, and I have raped you,” she said. “We are in my sphere.”

“And what are my duties?” I asked, playfully.

“You are to attend to the desires of your Mistress, as I attend to yours,” she said.

“You attend to mine?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said. “You have a desire to be controlled, cared for.”

I shifted uncomfortably.

“You dislike that?”

“It is not Roman. Men must be strong, and not seek for soft things or sentiment,” I said. “I am a General, and a man of war. I do not show weakness.”

“There is wisdom in that,” Shakla said. “Men should not be cloying and weak when in their sphere. Outside of their sphere, they are vulnerable. There they must be protected and cared for. In my embrace, you are in my sphere, and I shall treat you as you deserve.”

“You will think less of me,” I whispered.

She leaned in, taking me close to her. “Is that your fear?” She asked.

I nodded.

“Would you think less of me if I were scared, or weak, or vulnerable?” Shakla asked.

“Of course not,” I replied. “But it is different for a man.”

“I find that notion abhorrent. It is not showing weakness to let your wife be the keeper of your secrets. It is wrong, in fact, not to bare to her your soul. If I ever think less of my husband for revealing me his inner self, let the gods slay me, and let the drink of rebirth send me to the eternal brazier. A loving wife must nurture her husband, as a husband must provide a bulwark for his wife. We exist to uplift each other: I by commanding, you by obeying. For example…”

She flexed her bicep before my lips.

“Kiss my arm,” she said.

I lost myself for a moment in staring at the solid ball of female strength, her green skin flecked in sweat. It was like a stone in a castle wall, or a shot flung by a ballista.

“Do not keep me waiting,” She said in a voice that was authoritative but calm. “I cannot bear not having your lips worship my muscle. Now…kiss…”

I shut my eyes and pressed my lips to her bicep. I tasted the salt of her sweat on my lips, the tightness of the flesh, and the soft, smoothness of her green skin. I found pleasure in the kiss.

I opened my eyes, and saw that Shakla had found pleasure in it also. Her eyes were wide, and she swiveled, placing her other arm before my lips.

“Now this one,” she whispered.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to her other arm, tasting and savoring it in much the same way as the first. She flexed and relaxed, and I could feel the power of the tendons moving. Gods she was so strong…

She looked down at me with a grin.

“Now, Roman man…” she said. She slid up my body until her glistening, rock-hard abs were inches from my face. “I have seen you admiring my stomach muscles, so worship them,” she commanded.

I leaned in with an eagerness that surprised us both. I traced my tongue through the fine contours of her perfectly toned stomach, pressing my lips against her abdominals and giving them deep, reverential kisses. I could feel her tense and breathe with each kiss, and it made me moan a little.

She moaned a little as well, eagerly tightening her belly and relaxing it, letting me feel the strength of her muscles as I kissed. She stroked my hair appreciatively.

“Your tongue and lips are gifts from the gods,” Shakla said. “I must…I must fuck them.”

She slid up even higher, until my face was confronted by her sopping wet hole.

“This is your new goddess,” she said. Her dark green pussy hovered in the space above me, gently brushing against my lips. “Above all others, this is what you serve. Worship it. Worship me.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

She nodded, and my words made her drip even more. She lowered herself down upon me, grinding her sex into my nose. The strong smell of Orc filled my nostrils, so strong I could taste it. A moment later, my tongue went to her labia, and I began to lick and slurp. Her juice was tangy and acidic, and the musk made me grow more aroused.

She let out a happy moan, and began to rub her clitoris against my face as my tongue explored her vagina.

I licked at my new goddess, tasting the ambrosia that she leaked out all over my face, reveling in the mess it made upon me. I was filthy with my goddess’ juice, her slave, her toy. I loved it.

“Look up at me,” Shakla commanded.

I stared up at her face, past the hills and valleys of her muscles and breasts, to her dark eyes and her clenched teeth. The pleasure was making her get rougher, and as I stared in her eyes she began to aggressively fuck my face, sliding against me as I could only gurgle. I was beneath her, under her. I existed for her pleasure. My penis throbbed, stiff and sore with desire.

“Oh fuck…” she growled. “Worship me, deeper, Titus. Bury yourself inside me.”

I obeyed. I pushed my face even deeper into her sex, feeling her fluid go down my chin and neck. I licked and nibbled, and she clutched me by my head and began to thrust her hole against me. She grew ferocious and was snarling and baying as she fucked my face raw. When finally she came, it was in another explosion of raw female power, her sex pulsating on my face.

I looked up and saw her shout skyward in a cry of victory, a cry of total joy. Her slit became sensitive in her aftershocks, and I reveled in kissing it as she yelped and howled.

“Enough of that!” She said with a giggle. She turned to face my cock.

Now…” she began, still shuddering though her orgasm. She went on all fours, her rear pointed at my face, as her hands went to my groin. “I am going to play with this nice Roman cock.”

Her fingers began to tease me. She raked her nails gently along my shaft and head, battled it about, and squeezed it tightly. Pleasure filled my spent penis, and to began to stiffen, much to her delight. She leaned down and covered it in Orcish licks and kisses, which only made me grow harder and more swollen.

She lowered herself down again, this time facing away from me, and my face was buried into her pussy from behind. I licked at her with alacrity, and she wiggled her sex, her strong thighs and buttocks pushing my face back and forth.

As I devoted myself to bringing her to another orgasm, she kissed and tasted my cock, even nibbling on it gently and letting it rub against her long fangs. I never felt in danger of being harmed, but I was aware of just how much power she had, and it made me pulse even more.

A race began, to see who could bring the other to screaming first. It is well and good for one to be dominant and the other submissive, but the question of who needs who more – who is truly the more powerful person in the relationship – is totally an effect of who can take more pleasure from the other.

As an Orc, Shakla was stoic, and loathe to show me how much pleasure I gave her. Her ministration to my penis was nothing short of amazing, and I moaned and groaned freely into her musk, but I was so focused upon pleasing her, and licking her clitoris, that she was starting to gyrate uncontrollably, and a pained moan escaped her lips. Her love for my work was apparent.

Finally, sensing that she might ‘lose’, she pulled her rear and pussy away from my mouth, just out of range, and began to slurp my cock with aggression that made my hairs stand on end. I whimpered, unable to show pleasure, and Shakla laughed triumphantly.

“Please, let me…” I groaned.

“No!” She said. She gripped my cock at the base and squeezed. “You are a boy, and your job is to sing when I pleasure you. You may attend to me after.”

She returned to aggressively throating my manhood, gagging on it but not stopping. I felt myself growing close, and I moaned and cried out.

Shakla fed on my weakness, and grew more aggressive and fierce, and soon I was climaxing. She backed her rear and vagina back over my face, and as I ejaculated I cried out into her. She laughed triumphantly and wiggled her tight and muscular rear, making me pulse and shoot even more of my fluid into her mouth.

She rested my spent and bruised cock on her throat, and I felt her swallow against it, taking all my seed into her.

I finished her quickly, and she howled and yelped, shuddering out another potent orgasm on my face. She turned and snuggled into my chest, rubbing her abs.

“Ohhh,” she began. “My sweet, sweet honey bee…” she cooed. “Your seed is a divine gift…”

I puffed out my chest. It was nice for someone to finally acknowledge that. I took a few deep breaths.

“What now?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

“We must go soon. Get dressed,” she said. She looked at my armor heap twenty yards away and grimaced. “I regret cutting you out of your armor now. At least you have your tunic still.”

“We should be able to find someone to fix it,” I said. “I need to find my scribe Phillip and make sure he’s alright.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Shakla said. “Scribes are like catnip to savage girls.”

We both got dressed. I put on my tunic and gathered up my armor. Shakla dressed into her full garb, collecting her sword from my ruined shield.

“You shall need another shield,” she said.

“That is fine,” I said. “We have plenty.”

We descended the hill and made our way to the forests. I feared what I would see there – I feared to see signs of disappeared troops, or glum faces of conquered men.

Instead I saw happy Legionaries canoodling, kissing, or being fucked by various aggressive mamono. Most were Orcs, but there were Ushi, Oni, and Dwarves among them as well.

The soldiers saw me, saw me with my new Orc wife, and cheered excitedly. The Orcish armies cheered too, and Shakla grabbed my hand in hers and held our arms aloft. Everyone cheered louder. The fact that my my men were pleased made me happy, for I has most feared that they would feel that I betrayed them but there were smiles all throughout the camp, on every face. Every face, except for one.

I saw Cassius sitting near a campfire, on a log, hunched over as if in stomach pain. He looked crestfallen, and Renata was hugging his shoulders protectively, trying to kiss him into happiness. I swallowed, taking a deep breath. A Roman General would hate the man forever, and seek to crucify him. But I would not. I felt pity for my loyal servant. I realized his plight now, as I had felt it myself. I looked to Shakla.

My Orc Warrior smiled and nodded. “Make peace with Cassius, my love,” she said sweetly.

I approached, and as I did Cassius’ face went from glum to focused, and his eyes widened.

“Legate,” he said plaintively as I drew near. He rose from the log and went to his knees, much to Renata’s distress. “I can only prostrate myself before you, and beg your forgiveness. I have betrayed you, and deserve to die for it!”

“No!” Renata cried out. “It isn’t his fault…”

“This is not necessary. I am not here for recriminations. I too have been taken by an Orc Woman,” I said. I extended my hand to Cassius. “I understand what you went through, and I shall not be a hypocrite.”

His eyes grew wet, and he took a deep breath and smiled. Behind him Renata let out a happy cry and covered her mouth Cassius clasped my hand at the wrist, and I helped him to his feet.

“I forgive you, Cassius,” I said. “More than that, I thank you. You have been the instrument by which the gods have answered my prayers. Beyond that, I shall need your help to execute a greater betrayal of my own.”

Cassius clutched my hand and kissed my signet ring fervently. “You honor me, Legate. And I swear to you I shall not betray you again.”

“I accept your word. But you shall show loyalty to your wife, as is proper,” I said.

“There will be no dichotomy,” Renata said. “You are the husband of the War Chief, and therefore my Lord. The Orcs shall swear total fealty to you as her mate. I shall never make Cassius foreswear another vow. This was dishonorable…”

“It was necessary,” Shakla said with a growl. “I wanted Titus. The sacrifices you two have made will be acknowledged when we have taken Gaul.”

“Just like that?” I asked.

“Taking Gaul from Septimus will be like taking away cookies from a very fat toddler,” Shakla said.

“Perhaps, but the Senate will dispatch Labienus to reclaim it,” I said. “He shall not be so easily dispatched.

“I shall crush him,” she said forcefully. “I have his greatest general, I shall have one hundred thousand mamono, and I shall have his Legions. By the time he gets here, the province will be strong.”

We talked to Cassius and Renata for a few moments, and we made preparations to depart. After Shakla gave them their orders, they left to see them carried out.

Shakla and I made preparations to depart. I found an armorer to fix my armor, and in so doing I came across the messy baggage train of the Legion. There, I saw my hapless Scribe.

Phillip was near a broken cart covered with overturned barrels of vinegar. He was naked to the waist, slick with sweat and claw marks. A young Dwarf woman with an ample bosom was hugging him with total devotion, her eyes shut tight as she hugged with all her strength.

“Phillip,” I said. “I see you have made new friends. Were you a part of this ambush?

“A part of it?” he asked incredulously, patting his new bride’s braided golden hair. “I didn’t even know what was going on until Hilde here tackled me.”

“He’s so dreamy…” the Dwarf said in broken Greek. She stared up at him with big green devoted eyes. “He speaks like a Prince.”

“So what now?” Phillip asked.

I sighed. I looked to Shakla, who smiled at me. “I guess we are rebels now,” I said.

“Well, morale has certainly improved in the short term,” Phillip said. He looked to Shakla. “I hope you have a plan.”

“It will not be easy,” I said.

“It will be easier, once we get your fortress under our control,” Shakla said. She shook her head. “You had to be clever and garrison it, despite your Governor’s orders.”

“I understood the importance of the point.” I said. I sighed. “You want me to go in and surrender it, don’t you?”

“It will make it easier for everyone,” she said. “And we will get good homes for all the Legionaries, I promise.”

I sighed. “Very well,” I said. I smirked. “As you command, my Mistress.”

Shakla smiled as I spoke. She wrapped her powerful arms around me and brought me in for a deep, tender kiss. Her tongue entered my mouth, controlling it, as she gripped me tightly under my arms. and I put my arms around her muscular waist.

As her tongue filled my mouth and I took her Orcish breath into my lungs, I said a silent prayer to the gods. I thanked them for hearing my prayer.

I was a rebel, and I understood that our rebellion was going to be fraught with hardship, but at this moment I did not care. At this moment, the conflict in my heart was resolved, and it was resolved through conquest by a might Orc War Chief. I was a man, but I was Shakla’s man. I had not been diminished, but completed. I was still a Roman, and still a General, but now -and most importantly- I was Shakla’s Husband.

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4 thoughts on “Shakla Ku (Orc Femdom)

  1. A lovely story, the only thing that could make it better is some sort of epiloge like ” 2 years later” and you have glimpse into his daily life, like a written out happy end. ( emphasis is on glimpse, the story is very long as it is) this not meant to be critique by the way, just how you could theoreticly make it better imo.
    or you could write an a short epiloge as a standalone thing when you don’t have time to write a fleshed out story ( as you once said on discord “a filler” thing, as the characters are already established.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. The land is an Afterlife realm. The Black Arch is an unpleasant archway that must be passed through each time one dies here.

      I had more explanation written but worried it got too dry so I cut it. I might have wanted to leave it in.

      Like

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