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The first thrust broke through the fragile otter's hymen with a stab of pain. The second merely burned, the fourth and fifth just stung. Lorle had cried himself to the point he could no longer shed tears. He couldn't move himself any further; he just lay limp as the minotaur ravaged him. It held Lorle's legs up to it's own shoulders, pulling him back and forth over his pointed red cock. The beast snorting and growling; it's red eyes raping Lorle's very soul. Lorle almost had no more fear left, he felt so numb. It hadn't missed a beat in it's rapid assault for some time, so rapid Lorle's back had begun to grow hot from friction. It was seeming like he was going to snap in two; then he felt a strange feeling internally. He felt it before, but suddenly it grew again. The minotaur had been providing most of the lubrication, and it felt like it was working... Lorle felt oddly heated, he suddenly didn't hurt as much. His back arched as he silently realized that he'd begun to enjoy this. Whether he liked it or not, his body was reacting to being reduced to a fleshlight for the bull; his clitoris swelling and his inner walls growing wet and contracting around the beast's engorged spear. Lorle felt his body shuddering as he began to pant, much to the crowd's delight. Exclamations of "He's into it now!" and other primal noises erupted amongst the jeering orcs as they moved in closer to watch for Lorle's breaking point. As though it were cued on by the uproar, the Minotaur began to thrust slower, but with more reach than before. Lorle clenched his small jaws as he began to pant, the jolting pleasure beginning to peak. The monstrous Bull rolled his hips slightly upward, making sure to press against Lorle's most sensitive places for the grand finish. Soon he was bumping up against Lorle's cervical opening; and the Bull began to make low grunting noises. It bent over him and put Lorle's legs around it's waist and pulled the small otter's pelvis to his groin. The sounds of the sticky connection filled Lorle's ears as they lowered to his head. Gruesomely wet, sloppy slapping sounds filled the room. The agitated monster soon roared out in pleasure as he went still, he had begun filling the small otter with his potent seed. Crying out, Lorle hit his own forced orgasm. Nearly screaming in pain and pleasure, squirting his feminine juices over the minotaur's pulsing shaft. Convulsing, his cunt ached, he ached, but he moaned against the pain. His mind shattering, the bull thrusted once or twice to ensure the mating was successful. Lorle stopped moving, he couldn't respond any more. He passed out, impaled on the Minotaur's just softening penis. The beast backed up, pulling out as what seemed like a gallon of semen poured from the reddened, burning vagina of the otter he had just bred. The shaman of the orc tribe put two fingers up to the outpour, and tasted the fertile fluids. He raised the fingers and the crowd of orcs cheered wildly. He muttered something and the minotaur had once more become a tamed, but still somewhat wild bull. He was led out by his handler, supposedly to a stable to rest. As for Lorle, he had only been through one breeding for the time being. The teary eyed, exhausted otter would eventually be taken by every member of the tribe, near destroyed by the poundings he would endure. He soon grew fond of the chief, and was made a sort of bride. But that's another tale, and this one has tired me out.

The older orc noticed his son's erection growing over the course of the detailed tale, he couldn't have possibly not. He was growing handsomely, soon he would find his own partner. As the crouched by the fire, his son began to inch closer to his father, lust in his eyes. "More 'training', eh?" The handsome, muscled youth nodded eagerly. "Fine by me, come here." He reached out with a large green hand for his son's groin. That was the night's adventure for now, but his story is maybe to be told, maybe not.