Chapter 2 - Act of Domestication

And as she woke up, the first thing to reach her ears was the cackling of fire and eager sizzling of the flames; both marking their presence before she could even open her eyes. Grokasha groaned all so slightly, spreading the dark eyes and finding only mud before herself, all as her mouth was shoved into it. Orcish gaze became sharper as she realized maws were still spread, giving her the pleasure of tasting jungle dirt.


Groan of the huntress filled the camp as she tried getting up; lying naked and with her ass raised up, she found her hands to be tied behind her back. Feeling as the cold wind touched her rear, she froze for a shorter moment as all the memories began to flow; the mok’nathal, the previous night and what happened afterwards. 

Ripclaw was still hanging above the weak flames or rather whatever was left from the raptor; it was but a short observation but no matter how brutish the raiders could have been, they certainly knew how to cleanly separate flesh from bone. Even so, she wasn’t really in the mood to appreciate anyone’s culinary skills - the sun was early and the sky painted itself with bright orange. 

A dozen of perfectly carved out muscles tensed when she attempted to rise from that position, given looking like a treat for every passing, horny worg wasn’t the perfect way to be. Even so, something that with her musculature should be a trivial task, suddenly refused to happen. Some parts of the mighty body still felt strangely unusable, not sore but awfully numb. 

A strained groan spread across the jungle as she tried her best and failed; in the act of pure annoyance, she simply fell onto her side. It was by no means perfect as she still struggled in mud like a pig but yet, Grokasha was able to spit out the dirt that was far from delicious. The maiden coughed a few times and let out something that could be called a mix between a grumble and a growl. 

These damned haflbrains. She muttered in her mind and looked around the entire place or at least as much as she was able to do so - it did appear to be clear of the mok’nathal menace. To think they went this far over a beast. A deeper breath followed as she squinted her eyes in a discontent manner. Left for now but I doubt they aren’t going to come back. I am tied for a reason. 


Not fond of learning what that reason is either. She once more turned in the mug, getting herself even more muddy - she didn’t really care, wouldn’t be the first time she got dirty. The orc wiggled a little for a few seconds, trying to somehow get her hands out, just to then give up. No use, need to cut those. 

She connected her legs and bent her knees, just to then try and rise once more. The carved belly suddenly became twice as hard, muscles of the lonely huntress tensed in yet another attempt; it was a different position and while her belly partially refused to work, there was some progress. Grokasha clenched her teeth and groaned, using most of her willpower to get her body to work; her back slowly raised from the mud. 

Work you bloody flesh. Curses of the huntress resounded in her mind as she began to shake softly, using every bit of thew that was in her body. And so she slowly managed to push herself up; should anyone watch, they would see the grand pair of green, round udders slowly rise into the air. They would rest on the stone-hard chest and then, when the deed was done, simply slide down and hang.

As she managed to get up, Grokasha panted deeply. I’ve tackled a worg with my own bare hands, to think I’ll have troubles with getting up. Nonetheless, she didn’t waste much of her time and instantly looked around to ensure her situation; her camp was still there, mok’nathal leathers as well. The halfbloods been even nice enough to put the old trunk back before the campfire - after knocking her out with it, obviously.  

With some uneasiness in her eyes she looked down at her body, staring at all the cumstains that covered her even more than the mud. Her rack,  thighs, belly and from what she felt, most of her face. Bloody beasts… If they left their things, it means they are going to come back. Skull-crushing thighs clenched and soon she managed to get up, nearly slipping on the mud and almost reverting to point zero.

Hazel gaze sweeped the camp in a rushed manner. Need to get my hands free if I am to leave. She had years of experience and was good at what she did but with hands tied behind her back, even she would probably feed some raptor’s belly. Or plant’s belly, wild worg’s or if she had enough luck to die fast, probably a hydra. Wasn’t a very appealing vision either way. 

“They were smart enough to take my things yesterday.” She muttered to herself and moved towards her tent, feeling a bit better hearing her own voice. “Which means they aren’t as much of a fool band. Even so…” Grokasha stumbled into the leathery hut and stopped after the first step, looking around while her orcish slab of cockmeat swung softly to the sides. “... she who hunts is prepared for everything.” 

She stepped closer to one of the walls and bitten a bit of sticking out leather, just to step to the side and pull it with herself. A prolonged, loud sound of ripping hide was to be heard as the inner part of the covering was separated from the rest, soon falling down and revealing a single, old knife, stuck between the layers. 

Back in her clan, having a blade hidden under your pillow or in a wall was a common practice, you never knew who could come at night - most of those who did certainly didn’t plan on talking and chugging down tea to some stories. So, where she came from, this really wasn’t anything new; she did assume it was about similar in other clans.

She didn’t practice that though and this one was just left in like a month ago. 

Laziness does pay off… She muttered in her mind as she turned around, trying to get the ropes by the edge. It was there since she was getting the walls up and accidentally sealed it in; reattaching an inner layer of your tent really wasn’t fast, neither worth a single knife. And it sticked out exactly on the level of her hands. 

Awfully convenient. Fate’s been at work today. Grokasha stared at the older blade that held a proper amount of rust on itself and eventually managed to get her hands into proper position.. First I get out of here and then I learn why my walls are leaking. 

The amount of rope used was enough to get an entire rylak docile, it truly would get a longer while to get the entire thing cut - a while she could not get as a distant crack of a twig was suddenly to be heard outside. She swallowed silently and began moving her wrists faster; a great dose of caution was thrown out of the window and she put more force onto the edge.

The blade was still sharp and slowly made progress, all as her movement grew a little more frantic with every second passing. Orcish huntress perhaps wasn’t against fistfights that much but another meeting with the mok’nathal was something she did not look forward to. 

Ropes gradually gave up and her hopes would grow accordingly, had it not been by the ever louder steps of the halfblood raiders. Grokasha peeked angrily behind herself, looking just how much of the rope was gone - it was just a tiny bit left. Soon done and then-- 

“Pup’s gone.” Raw, rough voice of a mok’nathal trapper suddenly was to be heard, partially surprised but somewhat impressed as well. Movement of the orc suddenly halted; the not-sharp-enough blade running against the rope let out a specific sound and she didn’t need anyone to hear it. There was still a chance they would simply go and look for her. 

And it came true swiftly. 

“Then go and find her. I wasn’t done with our little thief yet.” Voice of the mok’nathal leader was to be recognized instantly; a bit more dominant but in way, uncaring. Just to soon turn strangely amused. “There’s exactly three directions she could go towards, unless you see an orc scaling that mountain slope. She couldn’t get far in her state, so move.”

I'll show you my state when I get a spear in my hand. Grokasha growled in her mind but was awashed with relief; should her massive trio of menaces go in search of her, she could easily get herself free and leave in time. And yes you halfwit, I can scale that mountain. A single but necessary thought soon was added inside her mind.

She listened how the steps lessened, to south and east. The last mok’nathal waited for some reason but in no less than half of a minute, took towards the west. She could hear every step and her wishes came true, it all came together to give her a perfect situation. Perfect for escaping, obviously. 

Eventually her movement became true once more, the rope met the rusty blade again and began to give up. And… The huntress felt as her binds began to loosen with every second, just to then hear how the ropes snapped. … done. The cord met the floor of her tent with a quiet thud and she pleasantly looked at her hands, clenching respectable fists and briefly examining the marks on her wrists. 

I don’t have the time to look for tools all too much. The place was hers alone but every hunter knew that at times things had to be left behind; she had a secondary spot that she could hide in. Grokasha turned around and looked at the knife, extending her hand to grab it. The knife, the spear, maybe a hatchet… Bit of rations. The rest I can get again. 

Her hand fell onto the blade’s hilt.

And a hand fell onto her shoulder. “Goodmorning, pup.” 

The mok’nathal were strong, strong enough to temporarily separate her from consciousness with a single hit. And while she couldn’t decide whether everything she saw was perfectly white or just pure black, someone sent her flying back into the middle of the camp as if she was a hollow trunk. Grokasha met the muddy ground with a lesser splash and then slid all across it for a meter, just to stop right before the campfire. 


“Novice’s mistake, pup.” She who wore a headdress of a clefthoof declared with a mildly amused voice, sitting before the flames with a bowl of meat in her hand. “We’ve snuck on you once, what makes you think we can not again?” Mok’nathal leader scoffed with a voice of disbelief, all while the third of sizeable halfblood maidens simply sat on the orcish back, forcing remnants of air out of her lungs. 

Grokasha clawed the mud and tried to grasp a breath right after, all while a massive, flaccid dick simply rested on her head; just to hang down and have its puffy, wide cockhead rest between orcish eyes. “Second of all, you leave a whole lot of marks in the mud when you walk. I would assume a stalker such as you would know but then - orcs.” She chuckled with some cockiness that was like oil to greenskin’s fiery anger. 

“You… bloody…” The once-more-captive growled out, feeling as a giant set of brown buns used her back as some sort of a seat; which was less than preferable. “… misbreeds.” She spat out angrily, feeling how her massive bust dug into the mud, squashed under enough weight and forced to spill to the sides. 

As she continued to growl and curse, the second of her menaces or simply the one that punched her, moved out of the tent. “Got to admit pup...” She who wore the mantle of a worg spoke with a content voice “... you take punches awfully well.” Her tone seeped with satisfaction, a whole lot of it. “For an orc, that is.””

“And serves my ass better than a whole stack of stag furs.” The third added and wiggled on Grokasha, making the jungle huntress let out a few very unhappy groans and growls. This one bore a headdress of a teroclaw, feathered beasts from the wilds. 

Three headdresses; the clefthoof leader, the worg and the teroclaw - a merry trio that decided to hunt her down just because they happened to have common prey. A group that tracked her all the way back to her own camp and then assaulted at night, just to nearly drown her down with their spunk and precum. 

Go on… Grokasha muttered in her own mind angrily, having the doubtful pleasure of having a massive, mok’nathal dong rest on her head and hang down right between her eyes. … I’ll tackle you down like a stagling… Her muscles tensed as she tried to rise, covered in dried precum and mud, pinned down beneath a massive set of brown buttcheeks. 

… when I get up. 

“Things said… Our prey or simply, what you’ve stolen, has been a great meal so far.” The halfblood leader declared and grabbed a piece of cooked meat from the bowl, tossing it right into her maws and then swallowing. 

“I haven’t stolen anything.” Grokasha retorted with a strained but still defiant voice.


“But Ripclaw is running out of flesh as you might’ve noticed, pup. Now, we’re all well fed here so we’re not going for another hunt for at least half a day…” Dark, deep eyes of the clefthoof maiden fell onto the struggling huntress, all as brown skinned menace lowered the bowl right before orcish face.  

“... so maybe you want something to chew on before we take proper care of you and keep teaching as why to not steal?” 

“I can tell you where you can put that meat.” Grokasha growled back at her captor, clenching her teeth and then lowering the hazel gaze onto the bowl. Full of juicily cooked, softly brown meat of the raptor that she herself caught. Covered in herbs, something the brutes probably found in the jungle. “You can stick it right up your--”

And her stomach grumbled, cutting her mid sentence and causing her to halt in some sort of shock. The mok’nathal leader smirked all so keenly, in the brattest manner she had seen. “We have stuffed you well, pup. But you see…” She squinted her eyes softly, keeping the cocky expression. “... it is the second morning since we left you in the mud. Sleeping for over a day can leave someone craving, doesn’t it?” 

Orcish huntress stared at the meat fiercely. You keep me tied in my own camp and now play with my hunger, you-- Another loud, mercilessly stretching grumble of her stomach was to be heard; there really was no bluffing at this point. Her belly was about as empty as it was getting and she didn’t want to know how much of her current vigor was halfblood spunk and jizz. 

“You can eat and have a fuller belly when you ride our cocks like the little thief you are or you can do so while being starved like an rylak before its final day.” Clefthood matriarch declared with the most uncaring voice. “Go on pup, make your choice. We’ll enjoy it either way.”

She glared at the bowl; it was full of meaty cubes, properly seasoned and cooked, not to speak it was from the finest raptor this jungle has seen in a while. “As if…” Her words spoke one, the stomach grumble that cut her sentence in half spoke something else. 

And it won. 

It wasn’t long before she sat on the wooden trunk and was handled a portion; Grokasha’s guts were basically screaming for her to devour it outright but she wasn’t very keen on eating like a starved worg, not in front of the mok’nathal. It was already enough they called her a pup, she didn’t need to act like one and give them more reasons. 

They didn’t bother to tie her again but simply sat on both of her sides, had it been any other situation she could probably take one with herself before going down. And yet, she was hungering, her muscles refused to cooperate properly for some reason and they already bested her once; it was like a trap she had to step into on her own and just roll with it. 


Keep smiling… She growled in her mind as one of her captors merely stroked her tool; the massive log of halfblood cock that already made it once onto her face and back then, left a very memorable, wet slap. That sound remained in her mind and the very memory made her feel a little wrong; she hated every moment of it and yet, the orcish tool twiched. 

It was an all out game, they all sat naked around the fire and stared at her with some odd amusement in their eyes. She didn’t get any clothes either, obviously, making the situation this much worse; now she was like cattle, fed before it’s used. Least she didn’t end up with the butcher. 

Hazel gaze glared at the unceremoniously masturbating mok’nathal and it was not a pleasant one. Disgusting wretch… She shook her head and then went back to her meal, slowly rising a single chunk of seasoned game and throwing it into her maws. It would follow to be a longer while of her just eating silently, under the eyes of awfully content raiders. 


The amount of wet noises coming from the stroked, precum covered cock wasn’t making it any easier to relax or calm down; had they made any mistake she was ready to run for it. Even if I don’t make it far enough, it's better than just accepting what’s to come.. 

The meat was good though; there was a whole lot of it too. If she truly slept through an entire day and more, it was enough to have her replenish her strength - at least enough to try and have another attempt. Grokasha’s hand twitched when the mok’nathal next to her began to let out very pleasured sounds. The orc knew some of her brethren didn’t consider animals smart enough and simply did so next to them, even with them watching. She just didn’t expect to be in a similar situation and to be the pet. 

The leader of the halfbloods gazed at her so contently and the huntress swallowed a little deeply, the feeling of her throat being stuffed with heavy pounds of brownish cock still was there. Close and easy to bring back at will or even against your will. Her tool twitched but kept hanging, much like the other chunks of dickmeat of the gathered, save for the one that was upright and hard, stroked by the one with worg’s headdress.

The mok’nathal stood up and Grokasha didn’t bother to exactly observe, she had the pleasure to see her captor’s ejaculation last time and wasn’t looking for more. And yet her face took only a frown when the massive raider approached her for some reason, just to then grab and turn her tool a little down; ejaculating right into orcish meal.

Huntress bent back a little with an angered expression, seeing as thick loads of the nectarous spunk filled her bowl; shot of white after shot of white, first covering the juicy meat in stripes and chunks of jizz and then slowly drowning them out. You filth… Orcish thoughts resounded with another growl, all as she saw the delicious meal become one giant spunk-soup.

A mass of bubbly, strongly-flavoured stew of cooked game that rested on the bottom, marinating in the seed and the nectar that was brighter than ivory. Just a small bit of the properly roasted raptor sticked out of this salty mess,  a tip of a meat cube that now stood buried beneath the contents of a fat, halfblood ballsack.

“There you go… pup.” The wolf-maiden declared with a pleased voice, her tool soon twitched and unloaded the last bits of freshly available seed into Grokasha’s meal. “Your favourite.” She added with a mocking voice and then went back to her own seat, caring very little for what she left behind. 

“Better eat up everything.” The leader of the mok’nathal purred out pleasantly, chewing on her own portion. “We wouldn’t like you to go starving, would we?." She purred out and threw a small piece of her own meal into the orcish bowl. 

It didn't splash much, meeting the oozingly thick surface and then drowning slowly; disappearing beneath the bubbly spunk to permeate itself with the taste of seed. These filthy… 

She didn't really have words for it but she didn't want them either; commenting on it was pointless. These curs enjoy toying with me like a rylak does with its prey. Right before it's finished. 

The aroma hit her like a charging clefthoof, the scent of freshly pumped out spunk was strong, rose from the bowl and choked the air; thick as if to be grasped. Her expression crumbled when her nostrils were invaded; it was like a worst drug. You couldn't not react to it, merely being forced to lose your composure and have your expression devolve into a mix of disgust, helplessness and intoxication . 

Eating this salty mess was the last thing she wanted but then, weak and malnourished she would never escape from her predators; even less so become one. Grokasha needed something or it was almost certain she would pass out after another night, making her situation even worse - there would be no getting out if they took her to their bloody village. 

Angry, orcish glare fell onto the amused halfbloods in a silent but very expressive manner. In the very next moment she reluctantly dipped her fingers into whiteness, feeling just how warm and sticky it was. It was no different to putting your hand into deep mud of the marsh, everything would cling to your skin while you can’t spot a thing beneath. 

And she uneasily kept going down till she found and fished out a meaty chunk, a piece of spunk permeated game; Grokasha raised it high, right before her eyes to stare at it with an expression far from content. Huntress swallowed deeply and scowled, watching as a few sticky, lengthy strings of precum formed between her fingers and the oozing soup. 

Disgusting… A mutter resounded through the huntress’ mind, all whilst it was barraged by the scent of halfblood spunk. Slowly and against herself, she spread the orcish maws and then pushed the buried now cube into her mouth. It soon fell onto her tongue and stuck to it, causing her hazel eyes to squint.

Feeling as wildly salty flavour washed across her mouth and killed all other tastes in a split of a second, the huntress froze for a moment - it was salteous beyond all common sense, precum was one but this was simply unnamable. It drowned her taste buds like a tide and slapped her ability to think, no different to an open hand.

Her grasp around the bowl became this much stronger, all of this salty but zesty sensation needed a way out; it bit her as much as she bit it. Even more, actually. Her brain managed to come to a simple thought, she was grateful that previous night it all was pumped straight into her stomach but Groakasha’s ability to think quickly declined, under the tastes and the strong, invading fumes from the bowl. 

Her mind wouldn’t come to another reflection for a time now but there would be a saviour, a simple order that made enough sense. “Chew, pup. Or you’re going starving.” She heard the voice of the very mok’nathal who filled her bowl up, filled it with this wildly sticky and bubbly spunk that she now fed on - or rather was to feed on. 

She didn’t really want to but she made her mind a moment ago; it was better than going hungry. So Grokasha began to chew, to sluggishly and weakly gnaw on the piece of jizz-marinated game, all while strings of halfblood’s seed stretched across her mouth. Her maws were but a white mess of stickiness on the insides, especially that the taste of meat was barely to be felt. 

It was seed with meat and not the other way around. Despite feeling as if thin, white strings of cum were directly falling onto her brain, the orc tried to search for the hidden flavour of roasted raptor - there was simply none of it. So, when after a longer time of helpless chewing, she swallowed everything down, it was but salty nectar and nothing else .

And it all went down to her belly - well, not all. Most of this stickiness clung to her inner walls and clogged her neck softly; orcish flesh was flexible and strong, recent spreading already undid itself and those bits of obscenely remaining cum would make a difference if she was to eat more - which was the case. 

“You done, pup?”

An amused remark was thrown towards her and it brought her back just a little, enough for Grokasha to glare weakly at one of the mok’nathal; she wasn’t sure at which but it didn’t matter that much. Not much later her gaze once more fell onto the bowl of whiteness, onto the dozens of tiny bubbles and the chunky consistency of this meal.

And she dug in again, nearly curiously drowning her hand in this whiteness, just to emerge with another cube of game; meat that you wouldn’t recognize unless you knew. So easily permeated and marinated, the flavour of raptor flesh was gone. So all she would feed on was spunk; the jizz of those who told a hold of her. 

And she would devour it, because she needed it. 

Her maws would continue being a cum-bathed mess of sticky strings and salteous taste, her nostrils would almost solely breathe the dick-scented air and her lungs would live with it alone. Throat of the orcish maiden would grow tighter and tighter, obstructed and clogged with obscene nectar. All to the point where the only way to get anything through this blocked throat was to brute-force it with nothing else but another portion of seed-bathed meat.

Grokasha’s brain drowned, literally in sensation and aromas that barraged it and figuratively in nothing else but everlastingly pouring spunk; before it felt like simple strings of ejaculated seed, now it was no different to spilling that bowl onto it. In all of this corrosion of consciousness, she clung to a simple thought - sustenance. She needed it to not be a prey forever, a prisoner in her own camp.

And it dripped down, onto her bust that wondrously lined itself with alabaster strands of nectar and down, onto the massive thighs and even the very, strangely non-flaccid cock of the huntress. She fed on it slovenly, chunk by chunk, portion after portion of mok’nathal load that came with each. 

So when her hand could no longer find anything at the bottom of that filled dish, she instinctively raised the bowl right before her lips. Already stained, puffy kisser of the wild maiden pressed against the stained edge. The bowl raised, canted so mindlessly and at the same time with intent so precise.

It was a movement full of resolve, certain idea that it was necessary to remain strong. Her mind could be dimmed more or less but common sense wouldn't leave her so easily - she would not go hungry just because it's not the finest meal. 

Sluggishly did the white thickness flow down, towards green, puffy lips of the cum-scented huntress; it piled up by the edge and flooded her mouth, filled orcish maws to the brink and clogged them with nectarous stickiness. 

Grokasha frowned a little as it stuffed her insides and reached every nock of given space; she had to bend her head back to not spill it all. By accident she tried to grasp a pointless breath, just to choke a little and have some of that white pool erupt from between her maws. 

She closed her one of her eyes to prevent it from the spilling spunk; orcish expression turned even less pleased. She couldn't really see the mok'nathal but she could imagine their amusement. I'll not be mocked by dirty halfbloods…

Her partially melted mind resounded with this growl and with further resolve, the huntress closed her maws. Her cheeks stood somewhat spread like those of a jungle squirrel full of Nagrand nuts and she could only angrily glare at the sky above her. 

By her sheer force of will and refusement to be but prey forever, she frowned and then began to swallow; Grokasha forced that massive load of mok'nathal spunk down her throat and down the already clogged neck. It was yet another act of brute-forcing seed and much like those before, this time too she managed to have it all fall into her belly.

Her head fell forth once more as those cum-glued maws spread, grasping a breath and showing off the mess of spunky strings. All could witness that which already claimed orcish tongue and rendered it able to taste one flavour only. Hazel eyes twitched softly as the huntress spotted only the halfblood leader before herself, the other two seemed to be gone. 

Heated, starved breaths followed as she tried her best to restore air in her lungs; through the devouring of the game and through the drinking, she had little time to properly inhale. Only now it did hit her, prompting to grasp the precious air as much as possible. 

All while her belly stood strangely warm, stuffed with the spunk of a mok'nathal. It made her feel a little heavy but still far from content; her annoyance grew even stronger when the brown-skinned leader of her menaces kept a smile most content on her face. I will not bow to some…

That thought wouldn't see its end as during her little cum guzzling, one of the massive, halfblood maidens managed to position herself behind Grokasha. "Good pup, impressively done for a little thief." She heard an amused voice, all while hands went on both sides of her neck and reached right beneath her spread, thick thighs. 

"What are you-" 

Much like her thought, this sentence wouldn't meet its end either as she was pulled up and trapped in an iron grasp of the mok'nathal; locked in a full nelson where her ass was more than exposed and her tool could only hang down helplessly. It all was with a quiet groan from her side, soon answered by one of her captors. 

"Every little worg needs training, pup. You're no different. Not to speak you're a bit too stuffed to fight back, aren't you?" The halfblood purred out contently, holding Grokasha above her own massive, fat tool - it was the very same one which drowned her meal in a thick load of spunk. And it didn't seem any smaller or less eager because of that.

The huntress tried to fight a little bit, all while being held in the most exposing of ways and by a proper, iron grasp that left her no options but to pointlessly struggle. Her legs were kept high as mok'nathal hands ran beneath her knees and her tits were squeezed against each other, making the green flesh look a little more puffy. 

"And every pup gets a ride, eventually." The halfblood continued whilst her tool throbbed; thick, brown as chocolate and with beautiful, large veins running to the side of it. With its head so puffy and perfect and with girth so wide that lesser woman would not wrap her hand around it. 

And all of this massive log of dickmeat rested right beneath Grokasha's exposed, bare asshole. It didn't help that her orcish tool was also standing upright, it didn't help her brain was still recovering from the spunk fume-bath it was given and it didn't help that she still had some spilled seed all over herself. 

You could wonder whether it was really as forced at this point, should you look or ask, different answers would be given. Especially from the grappled orc who groaned quietly when the puffy head of halfblood cock kissed her asshole. 

"So let us go pup." 

She was pushed down, unceremoniously forced onto the mok'nathal's cock in a manner absolutely simple. Grokasha's expression broke softly; being cum-drunk wasn't the best state to fight in and being overpowered in a position shameless was no better. 

The grin of her captor stood as a beautiful accomplice to her strained face, everything as her hips were slowly descending. This contrast of moods wondrously declared who shall be taking and who shall be giving. Orcish, slowly spreading asshole was a sign just as good. 

Grokasha's teeth clenched, much like her anus, in the most primal of responses. It was all to stop the slow approach of the fat, halfblood dick but it did nothing but give it a better challenge - a challenge that came with the wondrous feeling of tightness and slow spread. 

"Keep it up, pup." The wolf maiden nearly barked out, content to no end. Her tool rammed everything on its way, making orcish insides more accustomed to massive rods of cock-meat and spreading them inch by inch, in either direction. "You're making it more interesting when you struggle." With these words came more of her strength. 

Swollen, fat tool of mok'nathal descent kept going, without a break and without a shade of trouble; Grokasha's ass was simply being claimed. Hazel eyes rolled up ever so slightly as more than half of this monstrous dick entered her, she simply couldn't do anything but remain in a position fully overpowered, feeling as her anus was growing only wider. 

There was prey and the hunter, it was her asshole that was the prize and it did stand full of cock. Orcish maiden melted softly when only a tiny bit of brown, halfblood dick was left out. It already stood far too wide and too thick to fit it in according to common sense; to have it near was like sitting next to a campfire given its warmth, to have it inside yourself was to feel absolutely stuffed.

Filled as if every tiniest bit of space inside you was taken. And yet, it was not to be the case. 

Second of the mok'nathal soon stood before her with her own tool out - in terms of size and looks, it was identical. It too had a wondrously massive vein running to the side of it and it too had that baggy, lowly hanging ballsack. Grokasha glared at it uneasily as she was soon raised, given the moment of respite where her rear wasn't as filled. 

Yet she was pulled up only so much, leaving the puffy tip of one cock inside herself. "Usually it's up to the hunter to train his companions." The mok'nathal declared and the huntress could soon see as another puffy head of a brown cock positioned itself beneath her hole. "Sometimes it's a group effort." She was told in a heralding manner. 

It took a shorter moment before Grokasha understood what was about to happen and for the first time, her face lined itself with some faint fear. Striking softly through the dried cum on her face, it was but a glimpse of understanding, something difficult to pull off with your mind as spunk-drowned.

Then another set of hands grabbed her, firmly grasped the carved, wide thighs and used them as support - all while another meat was to enter her hole. It came with a little bit of struggle, leaving her to clench her teeth to the point of near breaking, everything as she was squeezed between two massive, muscled bodies of halfblood raiders. 

The one with the headdress of a teroclaw dug her fingers into orcish flesh and soon the huntress was forced down once again; her anus was already properly stretched by the single insertion but now, it was about to go even further. Greenskin's expression broke even more than before in some indecent mixture of pleasure and pain, all while the second tool was taking its claim to her insides. 

And it did so slowly. It slipped past the entrance with stretching not as massive but after that, it was just slow, sheer ramming of Grokasha’s insides; insides not fit for one brown meat of such size and absolutely to be ruined by two. The mok’nathal groaned quietly, it was a struggle for her as well, to spread this tight hole took a great deal of strength - although, it wasn’t she who took the real consequences of this act. 

Orcish eyes rose once more, alongside the beautiful expression of helplessness; the inability to do anything but feel two massive dicks slowly stretch your ass beyond common sense. Long, heavy inches kept going deeper and deeper, one fat rod next to another, both repurposing her asshole for simple pleasure and making sure it won’t be tight ever again.

It was wildly warm; one set of massive pillows pressed against her back and the other hung before her face, she rested squeezed between two hot bodies and the blazing sun wasn’t helping any more. In this heat she felt as even more crushing pressure was put onto her body, driving her lower and turning this carnal struggle into a slow but constant motion, the act of slowly hiding fat shafts inside a body unfit to take as much. 

And they did disappear, eventually, inch by inch. Making her hole far more oval than it should be, far more spread than it was to be. Their movement halted only when there wasn’t much more to go or when there was more space to be made. Which was more often than not. 

By this time, orcish expression was more of a mess than anything else, much like her rear entrance that was simply reformed into the shape of two fat, swollen cocks, one pressed against the other. Only a strained groan left her lips, accompanying the dumbed down expression of a cock-filled orc. 

“Well done pup.” The voice was to be heard, coming somewhere from behind the muscled, massive body of mok’nathal stalker, the one that was second to ram her insides. Leader of the halfbloods soon entered her vision from the side but Grokasha didn’t exactly give her much attention, trying to not get overwhelmed again. "You've just got saddled."

A wide smirk formed itself on the face of the massive maiden, all as she raised her hand and slammed it on orcish shoulder in a nearly pal-like manner, pushing the huntress even lower. “And now you go for a ride.”

Grokasha's teeth clenched even more and her hole turned even wider; soon her body was slowly raised, all the carved muscle and the plump flesh. Both of her tormentors did so with faint difficulty, they were big but so was she. 

Their massive, veiny tools were unveiled once more. Pressed against each other and stuck in her in a way that really wasn't supposed to be, halfblood cocks were to be seen again. Their shafts in fact, for the puffy, wide cockheads weren't taken out - after all it was a bit of struggle to get them in in the first place. 

"So ride." 

She was slammed down and a pleasured, or strained, moan escaped from her lips; the cumdrowned mind truly didn't see a difference at this point. Her consciousness was momentarily reduced to nothing more but that sheer stretch bestowed upon her ass. And it was to get only better. Or worse. 

Bit of drool escaped from her lips, all as she was raised yet again; this time much faster, to show that the best part was about to happen. Unceremoniously the orcish body slammed down again, making her plump flesh wiggle softly and her mind feel as if cock-slapped. And before she had time to recover, it would repeat. 

Up and down she went again, starting to jump on the mok'nathal dicks in a position most overpowered. Her hole was for the taking and her thew was of no use when two trunk-worthy tools simply claimed her insides and turned them into a playground. 

She would simply hop on them, her tool harder than it should and her ass full of sticky precum; these rods would leak richly and it all would simply make her insides this much more welcoming. Pleasured grunts of the mok'nathal reached her ears as her flesh was simply put to new heights, stretched considerably more with every time she was slammed down. 

But obviously, it wasn't to just be unseen from the outside; her belly adorned itself with a beautiful bulge, one that grew with every passing moment. She was carved well there, much like a fine orcish specimen should but not even all that alluring muscle could withstand sizes this big - it simply had to go somewhere. 

And somewhere was further than her body would otherwise allow. 

Her brain couldn't see past the carnal ruination of her rear and slowly it saw only unfitting pleasure; be it thanks to her guts being now more adjusted or perhaps thanks to the still lingering scent of a cum filled bowl. One wouldn't know right now but most likely it was both. 

Massive balls of the halfbloods would jump with every thrust, like half-filled sacks. The squishy sounds of precum would fill the air no less, all as she bounced up and down on the cocks of her captors, everything in camp that was no longer her, everything under the morning sun that was heralding how the rest of the day would go. 

She tried to claw something with her hands but there was nothing in reach, the iron grip around her gave very little options. So she would simply curse in her mind, try to throw some insults and fail, given all of it would simply drown beneath the sounds of her being handled. 

"Don't pass out, pup. We're about…" The worg-maiden groaned quietly before taking a better grip over Grokasha, much like her companion did. "... to start going for real" 

And all of their strength, all of that which wasn’t used, was then put into proper work; much like she was put into proper use. The clapping sound became loud enough to echo across the jungle, the wet, nasty sound of her insides being absolutely repurposed only added to that beautiful cacophony. 

Green skin of the huntress adorned itself with the tiny drops of sweat, ones that dripped from her chin onto the massive bust and those that simply slid there, hiding between massive, squished pillows. There was a whole lot of a dick in no-longer-Grokasha’s camp and perhaps it was a cause to forget about the massive, soft pillows that adorned muscled chests. 

Even so, no one should; not when the pup felt one set of proper pillows squished against her back, now when another pressed against her own, not when it all happened during her ride. It was a proper amount of innate cushions tucked into a relatively small amount of space, creating an atmosphere purely heated. 

Heat that certainly did help to melt Grokasha’s brain, much like it helped turn her expression into a mindless mess; the bulge on her stomach truly grew to impressive amounts and one would say there was now about enough space inside the orc. Well, a sane person wouldn’t so certainly.

Mok’nathal would not.

“A bitch in training…” The teroclaw-maiden declared, bouncing the orc on her dick as if she was nothing. “... a good sight. Perhaps even…” She took a small pause, finishing the last word with a quiet pant -  it was a great effort to keep a figure like Grokasha jumping on your cock for a time this long. “... deserves a small treat.”

“Think we fed her enough already.” The worg declared and tightened her grasp, putting her another portion of force into orcish movement; by this point it really wasn’t even a clapping of Grokasha’s cheeks - it was more like pounding. Leader of the mok’nathal scoffed and moved her hand off the huntress' shoulder. She did not participate directly in the thing but it was just being fair, she did already come right into Grokasha’s belly. Just last night.

“She got a bone already.” Clefthoof-maiden declared and slapped the mindless orc a few times on her cheek. “Look how happy she is.” She grinned softly. “So keep tenderizing, this meat is supposed to last for a while. Winter trips to the Frostfire Ridge get cold these days, she’ll make a difference.”

“I think… she’s about done.” The teroclaw declared with a little strained voice; Grokasha’s buttcheeks did paint themselves with proper, reddish tint by this point, her face truly didn’t have much left of a defiant orcish specimen left. It was just a body, a muscled and well shaped body but nonetheless, just a body bouncing on not one but two dicks at the same time. 

It was that time when their pace became a bit faster, thrusting back and forth into the  already largely used and prepared orc; the sound of pounding and repeatedly smashed flesh changed its tone into something quicker. The heavy breaths of the halfbloods added to this orchestra of indecent noises, be it the clapping or her mindless moans. 

Bodies pressed against her twice as much, the mok'nathal took expressions of edging and she felt how their thrusts pushed her insides to another level of sheer stretch; for just a moment she started jumping twice as fast on their tools. Each slam sent her udders into a soft wiggle, given just how much they were squeezed against each other and yet another rack. 

Hazel eyes were rolled upwards and white teeth remained clenched, all as drool escaped from between them. This peak of unceremonious, raw meat pounding continued just for a few moments before final thrust was made - before the bulge on her belly turned larger than common sense would allow and before her mind would feel shattered by sheer force of a fat dick.. 

Mok'nathal raiders let out deep, unified moans of pure relief; their tools hid completely in the orcish body and their balls slowly began to turn lighter. "Spirits…" The worg panted out while she began to stuff the orc, to pump into the tight but yet so wildly spread insides. 

Grokasha felt as if someone poured a bucket of warm, fresh spunk all over her brain; flooding amounts of warmth spread across her, she had the sensation of thickness painting her white from the inside. The scent of pressed bodies hit her twice as much, her own tool behaved in a way she never expected it to do, heralding yet another ejaculation. 

Her belly soon stood stuffed with not one massive load of halfblood seed but two, amounts released into her every time the fat, veiny tools spasmed; shot by shot, gallon by gallon. The orc struggled a little in this iron grip and merciless press, instinctively she tried to escape this raw filling but it was, after all, a peak to the act. Neither of her captors would budge. 

And her belly would grow with every bucket-worth of saltiness that was pumped into her. Muscled, not muscled, her stomach had to make space for all of this thickness - and there was a whole lot of it. More than even her stretched flesh could accommodate. 

So when every nook and every corner of her shapely body was claimed by mok'nathal spunk, it found a way. Whiteness soon busted out of her hole, all while the orcs kept panting, making sure the flow remained constant. And it did for a proper while, making the leaking jizz a show to watch. 

And there she was, Grokasha. A huntress of her own, a fine specimen of the orcish kind, a stalker of a renown - all of it irrelevant and reduced to nothing else but a simple, green-skinned cumdump for the halfblood kin. Overpowered, locked between two bodies, stuffed to the brink and naked, meant to soon do not much more than warming up cocks and subsequently relieving them of their loads. 

Somewhere alongside these lines, as to make sure there was not a scrap of defiance inside her, Grokasha's own too decided to have its peak. The orc came, making sure everyone knew how much she relished in the feeling of sheer ruination and the sheer taming she was given. 

She who takes it, the prey, was set in stone. 

And so she soon was pulled out of and fell onto the ground like a dump for spunk; filled, used, reshaped and prepared for future duties - ones that wouldn’t have much in common with hunting.. The orc maden muttered something incomprehensible with her spunk-covered face twitching a few times and her massive belly being swollen to a proper size. 

"She came all over me. " One of the mok'athal muttered, looking at her own chest covered in spunk. Her fat rod, much like this of her friend, began to grow limp and bend down. Still massive but now more fit for wet cock-slapping than anything else. 

"Makes you two even." The clefthoof-maiden scoffed and looked down into the messed up orc. She folded her arms and shook her head. "Typical orcish fervor, all words, no deeds. Regardless, tie her up and grab whatever is of us. Leave everything else. We're going back." 

The teroclaw sighed in relief and stretched a little, already paying no attention to the used orc. "Back home so early?" 

"Mom will want to see what we caught." 



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