HENRIA

I stare at the women and the orcs before me. This is the Claiming. This is what the women were thinking about, preparing for, on the carriage ride here. To become brides to these beasts, these creatures. To be Claimed by them in this carnal fashion.

I should look away. I should avert my eyes from what's happening before me, right in the open with no privacy whatsoever. But I can't. I can't seem to turn away from all these women and the orc men having sex in the field. Because that is what it is. I know that much from what little I've gleaned from palace gossip.

They are having sex right out in the open.

I've never had sex, and I've definitely never seen sex, and there are things happening that I almost can't comprehend. The scene before me feels surreal, disjointed.

There's a woman on her hands and knees, her new orc husband kneeling behind as he thrusts into her. He takes her hair in his hands, seemingly to hold her in place. How can it not hurt? But it clearly doesn't by the look and sounds the woman is making as her body rocks in the rhythm he sets.

Another orc pulls his new wife onto his lap and she wraps her legs around his waist as his hips pound his huge cock into her. But then she throws her head back and cries out and it's unmistakable, her pleasure.

This is sex? These collections of positions and movements and frantic energy?

No one had ever told me anything about this. The palace would never dream of exposing a princess to anything so base. I remember hearing lady's maids tittering in quiet conversations, and I knew they were whispering about things I wasn't supposed to know, but this is what everyone was hiding?

An orc stands up from his bride, who's panting, spent, on the ground. His cock is huge, even as it seems to deflate before my eyes. I cannot imagine fitting something like that in my own body. And this orc is smaller than Rokhar, so Rokhar's cock must be even larger...

A sort of tremble builds in my stomach, then travels lower, settling in the cleft between my legs. My breaths come rapidly at the thought of Rokhar in these positions. At the thought of me in these positions, sharing them with Rokhar...

"Do you see anything you like?" Rokhar's voice is a deep, low rumble in my ear, and I turn, startled, to see that he's leaning closer to me. He's no longer watching the acts before us, but instead studying me, a smirk on his lips. He places a hand on my shoulder, a heavy weight, as if he's holding me in place. Maybe he is.

I can feel my cheeks flushing in embarrassment, and that tremble, that pleasing tremble between my legs almost purrs.

Then my flush turns to anger. How dare he watch me like this! As if I am nothing more than entertainment for him. A plaything to amuse himself with.

"I see the road," my words are strong, without a hint of the nervousness hidden behind my anger, "and how it leads away from this place."

Rokhar's eyes sharpen. "Don't lie." His voice has a dangerous edge I haven't heard from him before. "I can smell your excitement."

The flush returns to my cheeks as I'm flooded with mix of anger and...fear? Embarrassment? Excitement? The feeling is unfamiliar and unsettling. I straighten my shoulders and turn to face him full on. "I'd actually prefer to leave."

His demeanor changes instantly. Gone is his studying look, the slight smirk on his lips. Instead I'm faced with a warning flash in his eyes. He grips my shoulder and the prick of his claws against my skin is a reminder that he is no ordinary man.

Rokhar leans over me, his face so close that the warmth of his skin crashes against mine. "Don't forget who you are speaking to, woman. I am the king."

"And I am a princess." I am pleased that my voice is strong and steady. "Royalty in my own right."

Rokhar snorts dismissively, but he loosens his grip on my shoulder. "That has no bearing here. What you were before is gone. All that matters is what you are now: my bride."

He turns his gaze from me, and it almost feels like a spell is broken. I hadn't realized how much his presence, his attention, weighed on me until it was gone. It should be a relief. It is a relief. And yet... I feel almost empty now, even if my hands are no longer shaking.

Rokhar surveys the crowd, watching the fornicating orcs and women before us. Then he stands and pulls me against him before lifting me into his arm. He holds me, pressed against his chest. "It is time to make our wedding official."

Before I have time to even think about what he's said, he carries me behind the throne. There's a tent in front of us, and he brings us inside.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the flickering candlelight beneath the darkened canvas. The first thing I see is the bed. It's massive, fit for an orc king. Piled on top are supple-looking furs for comfort. For...

Oh. It's immediately clear why he has brought me into this tent. I suck in a breath, my mind flashing to the women and orc men outside, their gyrations, their groans of pleasure.

My heart pounds, echoing the faint throbbing that persists between my legs.

Rokhar sets me on the bed, then slides the shoulders of my dress down my arms, further and further until my breasts are exposed. The dark coolness makes my nipples harden and he pauses a moment, his glittering eyes going dark before he pushes me back against the bed.

This is it, I think, bracing myself.

But he just slides the rest of the dress off me before pulling me to my feet.

Rokhar stares at me, studying my naked body. The air between us feels static and charged under his hooded gaze and I want to cover myself, but I know if I do, he will take it as weakness. And, anyway, if he wants to look at me, to do anything to me, he will.

There is nothing I can do to stop him. That is clear to me after watching the orcs and the women outside.

He walks around me in a circle, his eyes lingering. He is like a bear in the woods, hunting prey. His presence fills the space. The heat of his body as he looms over me sends gooseflesh across my bare skin. I want to flinch but instead straighten myself proudly.

Let him look, then. Let him see all of me. Because soon I will be gone and all he'll have left is this memory.

Still he studies me. And studies me. I think again of the women outside and the sounds they made. The way their bodies moved. And—how quickly it was done, for some of them at least.

I recall one of my maids laughing with a cook about how her husband would fall asleep afterward, leaving her to do as she pleased. If men fell asleep when they were done with sex, perhaps that was the answer. My way out.

Rokhar would take his pleasure from me, and then, while he slept, I could flee.

The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I will be free.

When Rokhar passes in front of me again, I reach out and put a hand on his hip. He stops, surprised, and I drift my fingers over to his belt, before tugging it loose.

Rokhar's brow rises and he studies my face, then smirks. My fingers tremble at the animalistic glint in his eyes and Rokhar brushes my hands aside, quickly shedding himself of what little clothing he wore.

He stands before me, naked, and it's my turn to take him in.

He's breathtaking.

Like a forest god. A statue made of the finest marble. A work of art sculpted by the rippling muscles of his body. I cannot imagine any human man looking as Rokhar does. Powerful. Regal.

Unbidden, my gaze settles between his legs and my eyes widen when I find his massive length erect and ready. His shaft has ridges too, spiraling from the base of him all the way to the tip. And his cock is huge, yes, but instead of feeling frightened, that tremble returns and I realize with a jolt that it's anticipation.

No. No! I'm just excited that the escape plan is working.

I drag my eyes back to Rokhar's face and immediately wish I hadn't. The unabashed lust etched across his features makes me dizzy. I'm suddenly desperate to distract him, to stop him from looking at me that way, so I reach for his head, pulling him down for a kiss.

I've kissed a boy before, once. Petter, a pageboy. We had hidden in a dark corner and pressed our lips together, and after that he would blush scarlet any time he saw me.

Rokhar huffs in surprise and freezes for a brief moment, then returns the kiss. And it is nothing like the stolen, chaste thing between Petter and me.

Rokhar's kiss is ferocious. Possessive. Feral. He slides his tongue into my mouth, tasting me, and my mind goes blank, lost in the new sensation. His hands slip down the sides of me, his claws leaving gentle marks before settling on my thighs to stroke my skin.

He tugs me ever closer and I feel the bulge of his shaft pressed to my waist. I gasp against his lips, unsure if I'm excited or scared, and wondering whether there was ever any difference between those two emotions.

I think of that orc bending the woman in half, how roughly he thrust into her. Will that be me?

But I have to keep going. I tug him toward the bed. I must get this over with. The sooner it's over and done with, the sooner I can run away and find my freedom.

Rokhar grunts. It seems he's pleased with my enthusiasm, and he follows me onto the bed, his body looming over mine. If we were outside, I know his hovering body would block out the sun and leave me in shadow.

His hands trace my stomach, my navel, my breasts, my backside. Each brush of his fingers against my skin sends a shiver across my body. I think of the standing orc, lifting his bride and holding her suspended while he thrust into her.

I see Rokhar's cock and shudder. How will it ever fit in me?

There's only one way to find out. I need to get this over with. I want to get this over with.

I grasp his cock, wrapping my fingers around the shaft. It's shockingly warm. And the skin is soft, so much softer than I ever would have guessed from a man who seems as if he's carved from stone. Except for the ridges. Those are firm, hard. They feel good under my fingers.

The throbbing between my legs becomes more demanding and I move to guide him, instinctively knowing where he needs to go. But he stops me, growling.

"You are not ready for me." His voice has a depth to it I haven't heard before. I look up at his face and see a glossiness in his green eyes, but also a look of...concern? "Not yet. You must be patient, my bride. Relax."

Rokhar pulls himself from my hand and reaches between my legs. I tense, unsure what he's about to do. Then he presses the meat of his thumb against the nub between my legs.

I gasp, my back arching off the bed. The sensation is like nothing I've ever felt before. The roughness of the pad of his finger circling, pressing, rubbing, releasing, starts to build something in me. Like the tremble before. But it grows. And grows.

Oh! My breath comes fast now. I can't control it. My feet arch as the muscles in my legs tighten and my head thrashes against the pillows. The room flickers in the candlelight and I gasp, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar heat coiling deep in my stomach.

It's too much. I can't bear it. And still, the sensation builds until it reaches a peak.

The world crashes over me.

I cry out as Rokhar's hand continues to rapidly stroke me, my body shaking and stretching. I feel as if I am trying to expand, to fill the whole world. Until my body returns to me, shrinking down once more.

I catch my breath.

Was this why the women in the field were writhing and groaning and shouting?

Rokhar slides my legs apart and I feel a slight pressure at my entrance. I look down to see his thick shaft. I glance at his face. It's controlled. Focused. He isn't looking at me at all. He's only doing a duty.

"Are you ready?"

I'm surprised at the question. Surprised he would ask. And I find myself nodding.

He slides his cock into me.

There's pain, at first. But not as much as I feared. And my body seems as if it was made to take him in, stretching around him as he buries himself inside me.

I close my eyes. Once this is over, he'll fall asleep and I can escape. I just have to get through this.

Rokhar starts to move. But not like the orcs outside. He is slow, methodical. The pain has faded now, and instead, as he continues his repeated strokes, I find that sweet tremble building once more.

It feels so good. He feels so good. His body enmeshed with mine. His skin pressed against my skin, the weight of him against me. I didn't know I could feel so full.

The ridges on his shaft rub against my sensitive flesh, over and over again. Is this their purpose? To give pleasure to their women? Their wives?

I cannot believe this is happening to me.

And yet, I want more.

When he next slides toward me, I raise my hips to meet his, shoving his shaft deeper inside, letting the ridges rumble across my flesh.

He groans, and I snap my eyes open to look at him. He's staring at me, lips open, breathing heavily. His green eyes so focused. He's trying to hold back, I realize. He's trying to control himself.

But I am the one in control of my future.

I do it again. Raise my hips, press myself against him. And it's enough for him to slip up. He groans once more, and this time the strokes come faster, building. And I continue to meet him each time. I want him to finish. I want to escape. I want...

I want him to keep going.

I've lost myself, too. He thrusts into me. Grunting. Panting.

"Rokhar..." I pant, as the trembling inside me builds and builds. I try to wrap my legs around him, but he's too big. Instead I press my thighs to his hips, trying to hold on as he thrusts and thrusts and thrusts. The bed below us shakes and pounds with his movement.

His shaft slides in and out of me, over and over again. It's too much. It's not enough!

"Please! I can't—"

He growls once, loud, and then gives another thrust. And I explode as that feeling crashes over me again, seizing my body.

Rokhar gasps, too. Something bursts from his cock inside me, warm and everywhere.

As the sensation fades, Rokhar collapses on top of me, the weight of him oddly comforting. But he rolls off quickly, trying to catch his breath.

I didn't know. I didn't know...

It's all I can think as I lie beside him.

I didn't know it could be like this.

And I don't think I'll ever be the same.

***

Light hits my eyes, and I peel them open. It's morning and rainbow reflections fill the space, dancing against my eyes. I blink a few times, then remember the night before. Rokhar. The sensations he raised in my body.

No. No no no!

I sit up. I was supposed to leave! To flee! To escape to freedom! But instead I must have fallen asleep. I'd missed my chance. What is wrong with me?

It's only when I go to stand that I realize something isn't right. Gone are the canvas walls of the tent. Instead I'm on a lavish bed, surrounded by stone walls engraved with motifs and inlaid with sparkling jewels that catch the light, reflecting rainbows around the space.

I get to my feet. The whole room feels as if it is hewn from the mountain itself. Where am I?

Behind me there's a click and I turn to see the door open. Rokhar stands before me. He's fully dressed, unlike me, and I snatch a fur from the bed to cover myself.

He smirks at my sudden shyness. "Welcome home."