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It was a warm summer day in Stormwind. The white stone from which the towers and walls were built shone in the sunlight and the running water of the canals hummed calmly. The heat was almost unbearable, and his fur did him no favors. But he didn't mind, he was sitting under an apple tree, chewing on the fresh fruit and observing all the young girls passing by in light dresses that embraced their curvy figures. It was a calm moment that he wanted to savor.

They looked so good. The sitting worgen shifted because of how tight his pants became just from looking at them. They wouldn't look at him and, when they did, it was with either disdain or, at best, curiosity. Every human girl was well-aware of the dangers of getting too close to a cursed worgen after all, so they didn't, but they still looked so good...

Reilly wished he could have just shifted back to his human form. That's what all of the worgen living in Stormwind did, stay in their human forms, but Reilly... had always had trouble with that. Maybe it was because he had been a worgen from a very young age or maybe there was just something wrong with him, but whenever he stayed in human form for too long it just... didn't work. He felt uncomfortable, weak, and ended up shifting back without even meaning to soon enough.

Maybe if he could stay as a human they'd spare him a few extra glances. Reilly still doubted it'd even change anything, though. If he did change back though, then he wouldn't be able to properly appreciate it anyway. The humans didn't know what they were missing. When Reilly sniffed in their direction, with the wind against his face bringing him their scent, he could smell so much. Their feminine scents, the hints of delicacy that was unique to those girls. It sparked up his imagination, made his pants even tighter. He couldn't be with them, but he could smell them, imagine it. Before he took the next bite of his apple, he gave it a lick. It tasted sweet, as sweet as he imagined that...

A jolt of pain shot through his body and his eyes shot wide open. Being stirred awake, the first thing he felt was a dull pain spreading in his stomach. As the shock and panic subsided, they were replaced by a sickening feeling of moist ground and damp air.

"Get up, wretch, you slept long enough."

The rough voice rang in his sensitive ears, a cruel reminder of his sad situation. Reilly looked up, the world was dark blue, the sun still hidden.

As he tried to get up from his fetal sleeping position, his body tensed up, painfully in need of stretching. Something he couldn't enjoy. His hands were still tied behind his back and his jaws were kept shut by the leather muzzle. The only positive thing was that he no longer registered the smell of the orc's cum that had long since dried into a crust in his fur.

It has been a few days, Reilly wasn't even sure how many since he was captured in Redridge. They were traveling day and night ever since. Last night they reached the southern end of Duskwood and camped in a dry riverbed under a wooden bridge. Today he would be led through Stranglethorn jungle, ever closer to his doom.

After the physical shock from the harsh awakening disappeared, he slowly and clumsily got into a sitting position and since his hands were tied, he rubbed his eyes against his knees to get rid of the morning crust. After his vision was better Reilly looked around the small encampment that the orc set up yesterday. They slept under the bridge, separated by the campfire from one another. Unlike his captor, who had the luxury of sleeping in a fur bedroll, Reilly had to sleep on the dirt, with moist and rotting leaves as his bed, snuggled close to the fire for at least a bit of comfort.

The orc was fully dressed, sitting on a log and chewing on a piece of smoked meat.

"I want to reach Grom'gol today. So, I won't be making any stops. You better be prepared for the long march because I don't care if your legs will be torn and bloody by the time we get there."

After that solemn statement, or perhaps threat would be a better word, something Reilly was well used to by now, he tried to concentrate on the situation at hand. He lied to save his life when he told the orc about his made-up noble pedigree, but in the end, he only bought himself a few more miserable days. And now they were past the Alliance territory, and any hope of rescue was but a pipe dream. Maybe if he was lucky, some poisonous bug would kill him in the jungle, long before they reached the Horde settlement that the orc was talking about.

Like during the few previous days, he was fed and given plenty to drink. Thankfully, despite Reilly's botched attempt at escaping, the orc never followed up with his threat of dumping the worgen's head into boiling soup. Maybe because he had already punished him enough. Or maybe because Reilly tried to be on his best behavior ever since. He was too scared to act otherwise.

While the orc was breaking the camp, the first rays of sun shone through the foliage, casting glimmers like a golden rain all around them. Soon enough Reilly felt the tug on his leash, humiliatingly urging him to resume their journey. Clumsily he got up and used the opportunity to stretch his legs as best as he could. Thankfully there was no need to get dressed since the orc gave up on forcing Reilly to bathe ever since that unfortunate night in Duskwood. Ever since then, the worgen was left to sleep in the same clothes he wore for several days now. While it was better than if he was left naked, it certainly wasn't comfortable either. Not that there was anything comfortable about his current situation.

The orc led them up the steep slope of the riverbed, back onto the dirt road, and just a short walk from there, it led them to a crossroad, the path straight ahead of them led up to the hills, and the path to their left led to a gap between two cliffs. Beyond them, Reilly could see lush greenery, and despite never having been there in his life, he knew that what he was looking at was the jungle of Stranglethorn.

The "gate" was surrounded by sandstone ruins covered in moss, and from the foliage nearby poked a large macabre head, staring down at them. The stone face was so weathered and overgrown that it could easily be mistaken for a simple rock. A tug on his leash forced him to move, so with a gulp he reluctantly followed the orc into the jungle.

While Duskwood was a horrible place, filled with terrors creeping in the shadows and unknown horrors that one could barely imagine, the Stranglethorn jungle was terrifying in a much more visceral way. One didn't need a great deal of imagination to know what giant lizards and ferocious cats would do to you. Not to mention the troll tribes that were known to live in these ancient forests.

After passing between the mountains they emerged on a winding stone road. Or what was left of it anyway. Seeing that they would not be cutting their way through the jungle like some adventurers in a storybook made him feel a bit more relaxed. Though when he first saw the sandstone ruins that surrounded the road, which he felt was safe to assume were troll ruins, he thought that maybe cutting through the jungle might have been a better option.

Half-broken obelisks poking from the ground, walls that stood as the last remains of buildings long since gone, sometimes Reilly even noticed pottery scattered among the bushes and trees. All of it was covered in elaborate decorations. Some were simple decorative motifs, while others depicted scenes and creatures.

He knew that there were trolls inhabiting the Stranglethorn jungle, but the only trolls he had ever heard any details about were the Darkspear trolls of the Horde. He had no idea what he could expect from these tribes if they were to encounter them, but the ruins didn't paint a pleasant picture.

Scenes of ritual sacrifice, depictions of beastly gods, faces, naked bodies, animals and more.

For quite a while they just followed the road in silence. Not that Reilly could talk with the muzzle, but even the orc was less than chatty ever since their first day, only talking when it was absolutely necessary, and always just to command the worgen.

The sounds of the jungle were suddenly joined by gentle humming. Reilly perked his ears to hear better, it sounded like running water! And indeed, soon enough they stood at the foot of a long rope bridge that swung over a wide river. At the stone base of the bridge stood a terrifying statue of a feline, made from one chunk of a strange green stone. The orc paid the statue no mind but instead tugged at the leather leash to bring the worgen closer to him.

"You will go first. I don't trust this thing." Breaking the silence, the orc motioned him onto the first plank of the bridge, and it was no wonder that he didn't feel safe crossing it. Both the planks and the rope that held them together were reeking with mold, and the sound they made under Reilly's paws made him nauseous. Yet not as nauseous as when he looked around and below. The river flowed between two steep cliffs, and while the height didn't appear THAT lethal, who knew what kind of things swam in that river. He certainly didn't want another 'bath' and safe to say the orc didn't want a good leeching either.

So, he gathered up his courage, looked up at the sky, and step by step he walked across the swinging bridge. At the other end, he was welcomed by a large arch adorned by another grotesque relief. This time it was a face with a toothy grin, smiling down at him. Not even that sight could ruin the sweet feeling of having firm ground beneath his feet.

A shove to his back reminded him of his "companion". He quickly moved aside to allow the orc to take the charge once more. However, the happiness he felt standing once again on solid earth was short-lived. Just a short walk from the last bridge, a new one stood before them, much the same as the previous one, except this one didn't have a river beneath its ropes and planks. Nothing but rocks and leafy bushes underneath.

Reilly heard the orc grunt with annoyance before he was once again shoved onto the ramshackle structure. With a sign, he once again crossed the bridge, step by step. This time with more confidence than the last time, and soon enough he was on the other side.

To his right side, the jungle opened and below the cliff he stood on there was a clearing. His eyes opened wide as he looked upon a camp that sat among the fallen trees by the river. For a moment his hopes rose up. Maybe he could find help there! Maybe it was an Alliance expedition and some of the scouts would rescue him! But the more he observed the camp, the more that looked unlikely. The camp was guarded by a barricade made of crudely sharpened stakes, and even from the distance, he could see a pile of butchered meat and a blood-soaked ground. The encampment lacked the disciplined and orderly look of an Alliance base and seeing that Rogak was unconcerned by the camp's presence, they were clearly no enemies of his. As the collar around his neck tugged and urged him to walk, Reilly had no other choice but to swallow his hopes once again.

For a long while, the two walked in silence. They must have been walking for hours as the pain slowly began setting into the worgen's legs. Reilly no longer paid attention to the surrounding ruins, preferring to brood over his lot in life.

The physical strain on his body reminded him of his days training in the Stormwind Army. Exercises, combat training, formations, all of it had felt overwhelming for the worgen. At first, his worgen form allowed him to excel over his fellow young humans, but as always, as soon as Reilly thought his curse might actually be a blessing, it became a curse again.

His companions hated him. As if they didn't keep enough distance from him out of fear of contracting his curse, they hated how much better he was, what he could do. His commanders were no different. Since Reilly could do more, he was just pushed more, way more, until he could barely stand. The feeling of his legs trembling that he felt while walking was not unfamiliar to him at all even if it had been a while since the last time he had felt like that.

There, he had felt out of place, and as Reilly glanced at the orc walking near him... nothing had changed. He was still in the company of someone that didn't want to be with him. The only real difference was that Rogak was larger. And green.

The troll ruins had long since stopped intimidating him, and even the occasional wildlife he noticed from their vantage point no longer scared him. Melancholically his eyes drilled into the ground, staring at a cobblestone after cobblestone, then suddenly his eyes laid on the heels of a pair of large leather boots.

Rogak paused in his walk, and Reilly raised his head to see why.

Almost comically they stood in front of yet another rope bridge. Reilly looked at the orc, who gave him a nod with his head, the worgen knew what he had to do.

With annoyance, he stepped on the bridge and started to walk across. He paid no attention to the creaking sound that so scared him on the first two bridges, and just hoped that this was the last one. Too fast for him to react, a splintered plank gave way, and not even the claws on his paw stopped his leg from falling through the gap. Panicking, he instantly tried to balance himself and had his hands not been tied he would have tried to grab the rope railing, but instead, a burning tight grip took a hold of his shoulders and soon Reilly was being pulled back in one swift move. As his heartbeat slowed down, the green arms that held him in tight embrace made him realize that his back was pressed to the orc's chest.

Nervously he turned his head to look at the orc. The red eyes drilled into his soul and across the green face was spread an unreadable frown. At first, he thought that the orc was angry with him, but then he got the feeling that there was something quite different in the orc's expression.

He would have even thanked the orc had his maw not been held shut by a muzzle. Instead of words he let out a guttural mutter. Rogak seemed to have understood anyway.

With a dismissive grunt, the orc eased his grip on the worgen, and pushed him to continue their journey.

For a few more hours they walked in silence as the path led them downhill. It was then that Reilly spotted something by the roadside that looked quite out of place. On the right side, a log of wood stood as tall as he was, it's top crowned by a massive metal ring that was decorated by dull thorns. To the log were fastened three wooden spikes, all of them white and sharpened to a point that at first glance Reilly took them for large fangs.

Rogak walked straight towards the log, and as Reilly got closer, he could see that the 'fangs' had letters carved into them. It was a signpost he realized, since all of the tusks pointed to the road's direction and one of them pointed towards a dirt path that led into the jungle.

This path was the one that interested the orc the most, as he tapped onto the sign and called to Reilly.

"We are right on track, in a few hours we will reach Grom'gol." With a spiteful grin, he turned to the worgen. "I hope you are as precious as you say, pup."

With a dry gulp, Reilly followed the orc into the jungle.

The severity of the situation pressed on him with every step he took. His escape failed. He had no way of overpowering the orc. During the nights he was tied up and leashed so killing the orc in his sleep was also not an option.

If the orc had brought him to an Alliance camp, he could have hoped to be ransomed, even though he was just a nobody. But if the green monster was to sell him to the Horde, he was doomed.

"Don't give up Reilly! You have to come up with something!" He repeated to himself in his mind over and over like a prayer.

The only way to buy more time was to lie even more. He needed to make himself appear more valuable than he really was. That meant that he had to bite into the nobility charade even harder.

In his mind, he tried to remember as many noble Gilnean families as he could. Nobody would believe that he was a Greymane, that would be stupid. The Crowley family were known in the Alliance military, associating himself with them would only cause him more harm. Godfreys? No. Waldens? Maybe? Silverlaines were all dead as far as he knew.

Tulvan, Candred, Marley, Ashbury, Morrison...

Reilly tried to remember any spoiled lordling he ever heard of, evaluating how believable it would be for him to claim that family name. Eventually, he picked a name and started making up answers to potential questions. He couldn't tell what the outcome would be, maybe the Alliance would refuse to pay for an imposter, or they would punish him for this stunt, but if he could buy himself just a few more days, maybe he could figure out what to do next!

It's not like the proverbial "executioner's axe" was going anywhere...

As he was deep in thought, the journey through the jungle seemed but a moment, but even as absent-minded as he was at the moment, he did notice a large tree ahead of them. One of its roots, thick enough as a tree on its own, was bent over the road like a gate. And as they reached the large tree and passed under its large root, Reilly's heart sunk.

Down below the hill stood a settlement. Tall crude structures with red roof tiles, encircled by wooden walls. And beyond it spread the ocean, as far as the eye could see. On the top of a tower, a red banner danced in the wind, bearing the black symbol of the Horde.

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Reilly was feeling nauseous already, but seeing the red encampment mere stone's throw away made him feel as if someone had stabbed him in the guts with a dagger and twisted it. Given no other choice, he swallowed hard and followed the orc down the hill towards the open gate.

From afar he could see two orcs standing guard by the entrance. One of them seemed just as tall and large as Rogak, the other one was much slimmer and a bit shorter. Both of them were clad in boiled leather armor that left parts of their skin bare, painted with bright green color. The sentries seemed to become alert when they saw him following Rogak, but quick enough they guessed the exact relation of the two.

As the worgen and the orc reached the gate, the bigger one of the guards waved at Rogak who returned the gesture, the orcs then proceeded to converse in their crude language and Reilly was left to guess by their faces the mood of the discussion. Unsurprisingly the worgen seemed to be the subject of their talks, as both of them made nonchalant gestures in his direction. While the two of them were busy, Reilly repeated to himself his prepared lie again, over and over until he felt a cold stare drilling into his back.

He turned his head and saw that the second guardsman was closely studying him. He didn't pay the other guard any attention at first, as he was more interested in who Rogak was dealing with, but it took only a moment to realize that the second guard was in fact, a she. From afar he thought her to be just a scrawnier male, but her healthy feminine curves and ample breasts were a dead giveaway of her sex. Her muscled arms, legs and chiseled abdomen made clear her physical strength and her face was quite pleasant to him, in quite an unfamiliar way.

While she studied him, her arm reached into the sack that hung from her shoulder and pulled from it an orange fruit, and as her eyes peered into his own, she flashed an amused smirk and bit into it, letting the orange juice run down her chin and drip onto her chest.

A barking command turned her gaze away from him. The other guard nodded his head to the side, pointing towards the largest building in the settlement. She grunted and headed for the building, her two ponytails swinging with each step.

Reilly wondered if all the orc women were like that.

The male guard sighed with annoyance. He was by comparison, not a pleasant sight, with his bulgy nose, thick brow and dull eyes that reminded him of pigs. The orc waved his hand, motioning Rogak to follow him into the camp, and Reilly followed as well. Once again acutely aware of the situation.

They were led to a firepit that was a short walk away from the gate. The firepit was surrounded by makeshift benches made out of split tree trunks and above them was a canopy made of red-coated fur and leather. The guard left them there before returning back to his post. Rogak seated himself on one of the logs, while Reilly had to sit down on the dirt like a dog under the master's table. It could be worse, he told himself.

Reilly looked around curiously since until just a few days ago he had never even seen an orc, and now he was hundreds of miles away from Alliance territory, sitting squat in the middle of a Horde encampment. Thankfully nothing seemed too "out of the normal" as far as he could tell. Yeah, the craftsmanship of everything around him would make the carpenters, blacksmiths and stonemasons in Stormwind vomit, but at least there were no corpses impaled at the gates, no heads on the spikes, and as far as he could see, none of the orcs were chewing on the raw flesh of humans.

Reilly silently prayed to the Light and every other divine force that he could think of and hoped that indeed all those stories of orcish savagery were exaggerated and that indeed these green creatures acted in honorable conduct!

The place, however, was certainly an assault on his canine senses. The messy encampment looked, in the virgin landscape, like a dung pile on a marble floor. The serene sounds of the jungle and the sea were disrupted by the sounds of hammer beating on anvil, wood being split by axe and the constant barking of that boorish language of theirs. The air was penetrated by smells so contradicting it almost made his head spin. Sea wind mingled with the sour stench of orc sweat, the smell of dry wood was swallowed by the smell of the muddy ground. The scent of roasted meat was spoiled by the vomit stains that reeked of alcohol.

Reilly began to understand a bit of why his captor was so adamant about cleanliness.

None of the camp's inhabitants seemed to pay Rogak or his worgen prisoner much attention. Few of them raised an eyebrow but that was pretty much it. Besides them, there were three more orcs that sat on the logs by the fire. An elderly orc with deep purple hair, a leather headdress, bare chest and feathers with beads around his shoulders was carving something into his wooden staff. Next to him sat a blue-eyed balding orc in simple rags, too busy chewing into a meaty drumstick as big as a human head to pay attention to them. The last one, seated right across them was an orc with a wrinkled face, whose colors were black and green.

Apart from his skin, his hair was as black as raven feathers, so was his thick bushy beard. His forehead was covered by a black bandana. His chest and hands were dressed in a black brigandine and his legs were clad in black iron plates. He pretended to pay them no mind as he sharpened his spear, but Reilly felt his cold stare on him whenever he looked away.

They waited there for only a few minutes before a small green creature appeared from behind a corner. Towards them marched a goblin. He was dressed in a patched and stained brown coat, his head was bald and before his left eye was seated a glass monocle.

"Good ploughin' evening." The goblin said in perfect common, clearly wanting to include the worgen in the conversation.

"I'm here with th-" started Rogak before being cut off.

"Oh, no 'good evening'? Or should I pucker up my lips and kiss your asshole to get a 'hello'?"

Had Reilly not been muzzled he would probably have laughed out loud. Seeing the orc next to seemingly grow shorter after being put in place by this sharp goblin just might have been the best thing that happened to him in the past few weeks.

"Hi." said Rogak with as much dryness as he could muster.

"Name's Dukat Talix, Commander Aggro'gosh is 'indisposed' at the moment, so they fetched me instead. What the fuck do you want?"

"I captured this Alliance pup here a few days ago in Redridge. He swore that he is someone important and if returned to his people alive they will pay a hefty ransom. So, I brought him here." While he said that he removed the worgen's muzzle so that Reilly could speak for himself.

At the mention of 'hefty ransom' the goblin's ears perked up, and he seemed much more intrigued than when he arrived.

"Say kid, what do yours call you?" he asked.

Reilly opened his mouth, his lie well prepared and rehearsed. But before a sound could escape his throat, Rogak interrupted him.

"He said his name is Reilly Cotton. From a 'very noble Gilnean family'."

Reilly Cotton felt the cold touch of death upon his very bones. The only plan he had prepared was doomed to fail from the very beginning. Fuck. His name was the first fucking thing this green swine wanted to know. Fuck. He had to improvise, he had to say something. Fuck!

But he only stood there, frozen.

The goblin was silent, his gaze darting between Rogak and Reilly. As if he was unsure which one of them is the greater fool. He sighed, reached for his monocle and began to rub it clean with the corner of his oil-stained coat.

"I have been making business before this pup here was even a glint in his neighbor's eye. I have been to every ploughin' port on this side of the bloody world. From Booty Bay to Southshore. From Nendis to Gadzetzan. So, I would call myself a worldly fellow if I do say so myself. And let me tell you, daft cunt, that there is abso-fucking-lutely not a single blue blood, human or otherwise, who is named after a type of fabric."

With that, the goblin turned on his heel and marched back from where he came.

The orc, shaken by the verbal whiplash, took a second to recover before he yelled at the goblin, his voice both absolutely livid and desperate. "What am I supposed to do with him?"

"Don't know. Don't care either. Make a coat out of him, donate him to Yebb Neblegear, make a gigolo out of him, wipe your ass with him, you'll think of something. Just don't waste my bloody time again."

Reilly stood there like a nail waiting for the hammer to fall. His fur was slowly becoming drenched in cold sweat and he couldn't, he wouldn't dare to look up at Rogak who was silently fuming next to him, grinding his teeth. He was sure that once the orc collected his thoughts, he would eagerly fulfill the threats he spouted on their way. Seconds passed like hours until the horrid silence ended when dark metal boots appeared in the corner of the worgen's eye, and their owner spoke out, in orcish.

His voice was coarse and irritating, like a grindstone to Reilly's ears. But his tone seemed cheerful and so the worgen turned his gaze from the ground and looked up at the newcomer. It was the one in black brigandine who sharpened his spears by the firepit, the one who watched him closely the whole time. Now he was joyfully talking with Rogak, a sly grin spread on his wrinkled, green face. Rogak himself was not in a merry mood and scowled at the other orc.

Suddenly however he outstretched his hand while the orc in black reached for a leather pouch that hung from his belt. Soon a small pile of silver and copper coins filler his captor's palms. Reilly had faced his deal of humiliating misfortune, the last few days might have been the highlights, but not even when he had to swallow an orc's seed he did not feel as utterly worthless as now when he was being sold like a piglet on a farmer's market, his life only worth a pocket change of silver.

His new owner playfully patted at Rogak's arm. It was a good deal for him no doubt. Rogak on the other hand only grunted and without even bothering to spare Reilly a look, handed over his leash and walked away.

The worgen turned his gaze towards the orc in black who already glared at him with his orange eyes.

"I, be Zudd." He said, while he pointed a fat and calloused finger at his chest, with common as broken and accented as it could be. Then he turned his finger at the worgen. "You, obey."

With that Zudd tugged on his leash and led him away. They passed a great bonfire in the middle of the camp and headed towards the tallest watchtower. Reilly was led up wooden ramps until they reached the very top. While the bottom of the tower was exposed and only made of logs holding it up, at the top was a small round room without windows and the only entrance was covered by a red curtain.

Zudd pushed Reilly inside and threw him onto the floor. His landing was luckily softened by a pair of sackcloth bedrolls. The room was filled with dust and almost empty. A few jugs in one corner and a few weapons and shields scattered about. The orc quickly collected those and carried them out of the room. When he returned, Reilly was still wiggling on the ground, trying to get up with his arms bound behind his back. Zudd grabbed him by the fur on the back of his neck and dragged him to the corner, where he tied his leash to a hook on the wall. Once the worgen was securely bound, he left the room without a word.

Reilly was so exhausted by this point that he barely cared for what was happening. One moment his life was spared and the other he was in danger again. He felt as if he was jumping from the frying pan into the fire, and back into the frying pan again. It was a strange feeling to be absent of Rogak's presence, uncomfortable in a way. Maybe it was simply that Rogak was a demon he knew, this one, not at all. He hoped that his new owner only took pity on him and was about to secure his freedom. But he knew well that it was a pipe dream.

There was no pity in Zudd's eyes.

By the time he was being sold and bought, the sun was already sinking into the western horizon. Now he was sitting in a dark room, the only light was that of torches and fires seeping through the red curtain. He had been on the march since before dawn. His body hurt, his mind was tired and in the dark, his eyes grew heavy. Compared to the damp ditches he was sleeping in for the past few days, the splintery floor and crumbling walls felt like the softest of beds.

It didn't take long for him to drift into sleep.

His dreams were messy and troubled. Again, he was back in Stormwind. Inside the barracks along with the other guards. Except that, in his dreams, all of them were orcs now as they surrounded him. Their skins were green, their features, a weird mix of what he knew and the orcs he had been around. One of them shoved him back against the wall and he grunted, but it didn't hurt. In the dream, he wasn't naked, but then when he looked down at himself, he was. Reilly felt his face grow hot. They surrounded him again, but this time there were orcs, trolls, goblins, all of the exotic races of the Horde surrounding him. Then one orc, skin greener than the others and with a face that was more familiar, pushed the others aside and came near him. Reilly cowered from him, but the orc reached out towards him...

Loud stomping stirred him awake.

Everything around him was drowned in pitch black darkness as the torch had died, but from beyond the curtain, a dim orange light was seeping inside through the fabric and was growing brighter as the steps were drawing closer.

Large hands pulled aside the curtain and Zudd walked in, holding a lantern. Behind him followed an entourage of orcs.

They were all green-skinned and, in nothing but the dim lighting of the lantern, Reilly had trouble even telling them apart. He might have tried to do so by smell, but the stench of alcohol filled the room alongside them, making the worgen wince and turn his sensitive nose away. The only one Reilly could recognize for sure was Zudd, his new 'owner', because he was still wearing the very same brigandine the worgen had seen him wearing most of the day.

Behind him there were three others, two had dark hair just like Zudd did. One of them had a ring around his tusk that made it stand out more, another wore no shirt, leaving his broad chest and intimidating orcish muscles all bare. The third... all Reilly could really notice was that he was bald. They were loud and rowdy as they approached him and, looking between them, Reilly made an effort to sit up and press his back against the wall, the adrenaline of not knowing what would happen next waking the worgen up quite quickly.

All of them were clearly drunk. They laughed, talked, yelled and their step was loose. His new owner led them towards Reilly in whom they showed quite the interest. They pulled at his fur, pinched his ears and flicked his nose. Most likely they had never seen a wolf-man like him from that close. They have never seen such a cowardly specimen for sure. The one with the outstanding tusk knelt beside him, cheap ale hung heavy on his breath, making Reilly's nose wrinkle in even more disgust. He grabbed his snout and carelessly forced the worgen's jaws open so that he could take a look at his fangs.

Reilly wanted nothing more than to bite his hand off, but his last act of defiance had cost him dearly. As the olive-green fingers held the worgen's snout, the orc noticed a strange texture under his palm. He scratched at the canine jaws with his finger, gathering a milky crust into his hands.

The embarrassing identity of the crust was something Reilly was acutely aware of, and after sniffing at the pearly dust for a bit, the orc figured it out as well. His expression changed from curiosity to surprise, and then to amusement. He drew the attention of his companions and shared with them his discovery, letting them sniff at the dried seed as well so that they could reach their own conclusions. The jeering turned to outright laughter as they no doubt made jokes at Reilly´s expense.

Until the shirtless orc, who appeared to be the drunkest, to the shock of others began to undo his belt.

Reilly stared, just as shocked. His ears folded back against his head and the familiar, all too recent memory of Rogak, his captor, doing something similar inevitably came to the front of his mind. His heart sank, the worgen pressing his back harder against the wall when the shirtless orc finally finished undoing both his belt and pants in order to fish out his rather intimidating cock out of it in a crude way. A patch of pubic hair as dark as his hair surrounded it, loose and shaggy, and the orc was quick to pull his pants down enough to bring a large pair of smooth-looking balls out as well, leaving the whole of his genitals exposed right in front of the worgen.

Reilly quickly turned his muzzle away. He didn't want to look at it, but he couldn't help but glance at the orc who laughed while his hand came to grab his member. The large fingers started stroking his cock which, in fact, wasn't even entirely soft, and under their care, its size started swelling even more. With his ears pinned against his head, Reilly risked a glance up at the orc's eyes, but all he saw was a large drunken smirk and hunger in the green beast's eyes.

Luckily for him, one of the other orcs, the bald one, came to his side and gave the shirtless one a punch on his arm. It was crude but obviously friendly given how it didn't seem to affect the shirtless orc's mood at all. They exchanged some rough words in orcish, the bald orc looking disgusted while the shirtless one sounded dismissive. Finally, with a shrug and a word that very much sounded like a curse, the bald orc turned around and stomped out.

The worgen watched the whole interaction with confusion. His eyes followed the orc that left as he threw the curtains leading to the dark room aside and then disappeared. Hope swelled within the worgen that the others would follow suit, but no such thing happened. When Reilly looked at the remaining orcs they were all grinning at him and chuckling.

Only three of them remained, but though they talked among themselves in their own drunken manner, Reilly did not even bother attempting to catch their names in-between their crude language. The ones that remained were Zudd, his owner, 'Shirtless' and 'Tusk' for all he knew.

Shirtless shuffled forward. When he did, Reilly's focus went back to him immediately just in time to notice that the orc's cock was now jutting forward, hard and erect. From up close, the masculine musk coming from the orc permeated into the worgen's nose making him wince all over. A large, green hand came to grab the fur between Reilly's ears, eliciting a small whine from him. The worgen tried to pull away, squirming, but with his hands still bound behind his back, there was absolutely nothing he could to keep the orc from pulling his snout forward.

Reilly closed his eyes when he felt the orc's member resting right over the bridge of his muzzle. His nose was pressed through the orc's pubic hair and right against his balls under his cock, making the scent of orc so strong and pure that Reilly was forced to groan in complaint. The worgen opened one eye to see the orc's cock right in front of him. Shirtless kept his hold on Reilly's fur tight to keep him steady, then said something in orcish and laughed out loud while he ground his erect cock against the top of Reilly's muzzle.

The worgen felt his face and ears burning hot in shame and embarrassment. The other orcs laughed as well and, from the corner of his eyes, Reilly saw Zudd opening his belt as well. The third orc, Tusk, came close from the other side and knelt next to Reilly. While his drunk friend still ground his cock against Reilly's muzzle, Tusk snapped his fingers in front of him to get his attention.

Reilly's fearful eyes turned towards him. The orc said a few words, also slurred and smelling of alcohol, then brought his hand up. He pried into Reilly's maw and, forced to allow it, the worgen felt with discomfort as the orc rubbed one of his fangs. The orc spoke in his language, but his tone became harsh for a moment, and as he let go of Reilly's fang, the next signal was that of slitting one's throat.

With much worry, Reilly got the message. No biting... That meant that they really wanted to...

The worgen had no time to ponder over it. Tusk stood up and downright dropped his pants. Shirtless let go of his fur, violently shoving Reilly back and making him hit the wall with his back. On the other side, Reilly saw that Zudd himself was laughing and downright stroking his own length that also stood erect while he watched what happened.

Shirtless stood there, right in front of him, manhood on full display. The orc gazed down at the worgen and then looked at the others and spoke some words while pointing at him. They all laughed but nodded, and soon Reilly was whining again as all three of them advanced upon him.

They grabbed and handled him with extreme roughness. Shirtless was the one that grabbed his scruff and forced the worgen's face against the ground. Reilly knew he couldn't fight them and that he'd regret it if he did, but that didn't stop him from reactively squirming and struggling as they pinned him down and started pulling at his clothes.

They laughed the whole time. It was quite a process for them to get his leather armor off. They had to untie Reilly's arms for it, but any thoughts the worgen might have had of taking advantage of his 'freedom' was thwarted when Tusk twisted one of his arms painfully against his side. In the end, Reilly whimpered and simply endured the pain while they pried his shirt off his body so hard that it tore on the side a little. When the worgen's chest was bare, they cheered in their drunken haze. A myriad of hands came to feel his fur, touching and pinching all over his chest and sides. The orcs tied his arms behind his back again, even tighter than before, before they shoved him down once more to move on.

The next part was even worse. Reilly panicked when they started to pull his pants down and got a kick against one of the orcs, he didn't even see which, but the simple act of rebellion seemed to enrage Shirtless to the point of him slapping Reilly so hard across his face that he got dizzy. They took advantage of that and, when Reilly managed to pick himself up and ignore the ache on the side of his face, they had already thrown his pants off to the side.

Tusk grabbed Reilly's leg by the ankle and raised it up. Without the use of his arms, the worgen could only squirm on the ground and complain with whines as he kept lifting it up until it was high up in the air. Held like that, Reilly's vision was upside down when he saw all three orcs pointing and sneering at what was between his legs. Shirtless, of course, was the one shameless enough to simply reach forward and grab Reilly's fur-covered balls in his hands. He gave them a squeeze that had Reilly wincing and struggling more under the awkward position.

Words of clear mockery were exchanged between them before they moved on to poke at the worgen's sheath. It sounded like they had never seen one of those or something, or at least Reilly thought that at first, but when Shirtless nonchalantly pulled his sheath back to reveal the red tip of his member, the worgen wasn't so sure anymore. Reilly felt like a true animal, put on display for the orcs' amusement as they poked and laughed at his genitals.

It was sudden for him when Tusk simply let go of his ankle to let him fall over.

The worgen groaned in pain. They didn't even let him recover before they grabbed him by the fur again and forced him to awkwardly and quickly sit back up. Being completely and utterly naked amidst those orcs felt so much worse for Reilly, and things got even direr when Shirtless, the one holding his fur, approached his muzzle with his cock again.

The damned thing was still fully erect. Hells, no, it was even more erect than before. A bead of pre-cum adorned the round tip of the orc's member as it was held there, threateningly, right in front of Reilly's snout an inch away from his nose. The other orcs grew silent, but Reilly saw that they were both stroking their own erections to the sight of what was happening. Zudd did it with vehemence and excitement while Tusk idly played with himself, smirking, watching...

Shirtless said something in orcish he couldn't understand, but the way the orc looked at him, it sounded and felt like an order.

Reilly simply stared back at the orc, confused.

The grip on his fur tightened, making it painful. The worgen winced, but the orc simply repeated the same order again. This time, however, he brought his hips closer. The tip of his cock touched Reilly's nose, smearing that pre-cum against it and making the worgen wince and whine. The orc repeated the order for the third time, pressing his cock right against Reilly's lips, and the worgen finally understood it.

In submission, Reilly opened his muzzle.

As soon as he did, the taste of orc cock overwhelmed his tongue as Shirtless wasted no time shoving it in.

Reilly gagged because of the taste. The orc's cock was sizable, but his muzzle was long and able to take pretty much all of his length until Reilly found his nose once again buried within the orc's pubic fur. The roughness by which the orc took his muzzle made Reilly recall his previous experience taking an orc's cock again. Perhaps it was because he had already done it before, that part of him already broken, but though the second experience was way rougher, it didn't feel as bad for the worgen.

It didn't feel good, it definitely didn't, but when the orc's hold on his fur softened because Shirtless cooed a compliment towards him, Reilly felt glad. The taste on his tongue was still awful, his face still burned in hot shame over the fact that he was sucking some orc's dick, but Reilly still did his best to make sure his sharp teeth stayed away from the orc's sensitive skin and even moved his tongue a little bit to please the orc.

Reilly already knew that the sooner he got done with that, the sooner the orc would let go of him.

The tongue wasn't enough. Shirtless seemed to appreciate it, for he laughed and obviously told the others about it, which made them laugh as well. The heat covering Reilly's face grew hotter still, but the worgen had little choice but to endure, especially when Shirtless pressed himself forward enough to press Reilly's head against the wall and then started to actively fuck the worgen's muzzle.

There was no ceremony to it, no elegance. The orc was using his muzzle to get off, plain and simple. He held Reilly still by his fur and, stuck between the wall and the orc's crotch, all the worgen could do was endure and gag as the orc ground his meat against his tongue. Soon, the large male was huffing, his humping growing faster and faster, and every now and then he mouthed a few more words in his crude language that sounded like dirty talking.

The other two merely watched. Zudd seemed to be getting really into what was happening, the orc huffing and speeding up the stroking of his own cock. He stepped closer to Reilly, making the worgen grew even more uncomfortable to have another orc cock pointing at him. His whole focus, however, was on enduring the harsh fucking Shirtless was giving his muzzle.

Despite the end results being obvious, it still came as a surprise to Reilly when the orc's hold on his fur tightened again. Shirtless growled out a slurred orcish word as he buried his cock deep into the worgen's muzzle and then, without Reilly expecting, he felt the salty flood of orc jizz filling the entirety of his mouth. The worgen coughed, struggling to pull back as the orc's cock started throbbing and shooting almost directly into his throat. Shirtless did not let go of his fur, however. If anything, he grabbed at it tighter, shouting another orcish word while looking down at Reilly obviously riding his pleasure.

The worgen coughed. Some of the orc's seed dribbled down the sides of his muzzle to mat the fur of his neck, but the bulk of it? It was with incredible shame and reluctance that Reilly found himself forced to swallow a mouthful of orc cum. Perhaps that was what the orc had ordered him because Shirtless finally let go of his fur with a cheer and a loud guffaw when he saw the worgen struggling to swallow his seed.

He kept his cock resting over the worgen's tongue until only the last remnants of spunk were coming out of it. Reilly thought it was finally over for a moment, but then a huff from the side prompted him to look just in time to see Zudd's cock, pointing at him and now even closer, start to throb...

The first shot of cum hit Reilly straight on the eye. The worgen closed it, feeling it sting a little, and then the warmth of a full new load of orc cum hit him square in the face followed by the sound of the other two orcs laughing at it. A brand new coat of white, sticky cum dripped down the fur of Reilly's face as the orc shot jet after jet of cum straight at it, joining the dried off cum that already matted his fur and making Reilly whimper as the smell of orc spunk filled his nose.

They obviously took great pleasure in watching everything. Shirtless finally withdrew his cock from Reilly's muzzle, allowing him to cough and spit to the side, but the taste of cum was ingrained on his tongue no matter what he did. The sting on his left eye had Reilly keeping it closed even when he opened the other one. The disgusting texture of cum all over his face had the worgen shaking his head a little, but with how sticky it was, only a few droplets flew away. Most of it stuck to his fur and, with his hands tied behind his back, he couldn't even have the decency of wiping it off!

A rough grab on the fur of his head, careful to avoid the cum, soon pulled the worgen's head to the side again. Reilly squirmed and whimpered as Zudd pulled one of the worgen's long ears and used it to clean off the rest of the cum that lingered on his cock. Both satisfied orcs stood back, still laughing and talking in their barbaric language, while Reilly leaned forward to at least wipe his face on his own knee a little bit so that he could open his stinging eye. The smell didn't go away, however...

The worgen thought, again, that it might finally be over, but when Tusk stood up and Reilly saw that the third orc's cock also stood there, hard and veiny, Reilly let out a new groan. The worgen turned away from it. The orcs didn't seem to mind. Tusk said something to the other two, who seemed surprised at first, but after a few more words exchanged, they soon looked like they were having fun once more...

It was Shirtless who grabbed the worgen's legs. Reilly pulled away as soon as he felt both of his ankles grabbed, but there was little he could do against the orc's superior strength even if he wasn't bound. Effortlessly, the orc laughed at his struggling while he handled the worgen, pulling both of his legs up high until Reilly's upper back was the only thing still resting on the floor. Then, the orc spread his legs wide, allowing Tusk's rough hand to come straight to the worgen's sheath to start messing with it.

"Stop! That's too far!" Reilly yelled for once. The worgen even attempted to growl some, but all of his instincts were against him. His ears remained lowered no matter what he did and he couldn't deny that he was much more nervous than angry. It would be wrong to say that they ignored him completely, for when he yelled, they laughed out loud again exchanging words with each other. Tusk, however, didn't stop messing with Reilly's sheath at all while his companion held him up.

From his upside-down view, Reilly could see how the orc pulled the protective furry sheath back to expose his member, then started rubbing it with some precision. As much as he hated it, as much as it shamed him, the biological reaction coming from Reilly's body was unavoidable. Soon, his member started growing a little harder for the stimulation alone and, when it did, the orc took advantage of that. He pulled Reilly's sheath further down and started making a stroking motion, coaxing the worgen's member into growing more right in front of all of them.

Reilly thought he couldn't possibly feel more humiliated. All three orcs pointed and poked at his cock as it grew under Tusk's ministration, clearly talking about it with jeers and mockery. Shirtless gave the worgen's balls a painful flick at one point, which thankfully halted Reilly's arousal a little bit, but that only made Tusk pick up the pace by stroking him faster to coax the worgen's member into growing more. Before long, the squirming worgen felt his face, his ears everything burning hot in embarrassment as they successfully got the whole of his red, canine-shaped member out of his sheath and continued to play with it.

The only thing still hidden was his knot. Reilly thought they had knowledge of it somehow, though, because when Tusk was done making him hard, he started rubbing the worgen's sheath where the knot was hidden and would grow while telling the others something that made them laugh even more. Zudd went as far as giving his spent cock a few more strokes again at Reilly's side while watching everything. Shirtless seemed happy to let his stay limp between his legs, but he laughed and played with the helpless worgen by shaking him a bit every now and then by the ankles he held up high.

Tusk finally stopped rubbing his sheath when his knot was starting to bulge it a little bit. The stimulation stopped, much to Reilly's relief, for while they had gotten him hard and aroused, the last thing he wanted was for a bunch of drunk, barbaric orcs to get his knot out of his sheath. Tusk's large fingers trailed down to Reilly's balls, then the orc retreated his hand. Reilly breathed with some relief when he saw the orc wiping his fingers on his shirt, but then he brought two of them up to his mouth and suckled on them...

The worgen watched with confusion. He met Tusk's eyes, saw the orc smirk, then grin as his two wet fingers left his mouth. The orc brought them up to the upside-down worgen's sack, poking at it, then he started trailing down. Reilly's eyes went wide when the orc's finger reached his most vulnerable spot.

"No...!" Reilly yelled. "NO! Not that!"

The worgen started struggling harder than before. A heavy kick to his side coming from Zudd had pain flaring up all over Reilly, making the worgen grunt and stop while his 'owner' threw some harsh-sounding words at him. The worgen understood the message but it only made his heart race even faster when Tusk's finger returned to his entrance, where it trailed around a little bit before...

"HNNGH!"

As a women-chasing worgen, Reilly had never had anything up there. He knew of lads that enjoyed that sort of thing, but Reilly himself had never even thought of having anything up there! When the orc's wet finger forced its way in, the worgen tensed up and couldn't help but squirm and whine. Zudd growled a warning from his side, which had Reilly forcing himself to stop. Shirtless and Tusk simply laughed out loud.

Reilly let out new groans and whimpers as the orc shoved his oversized finger further down into him. It felt weird, completely alien to him, but as the orc went further and further down, suddenly, alongside the deep discomfort, there was a jolt of... something. Reilly gasped. The worgen's cock, which had flagged a little because of the unsettling experience, throbbed and grew hard again with renewed arousal. The orc laughed at that too, pointing at the worgen's dick, then he used his finger to press against that spot again, making Reilly tense up and gasp all over again.

All three orcs laughed at him. Tusk retreated his finger, but instead of pulling out, he pushed it in again, then repeated the motion, and Reilly realized with much embarrassment that the orcs were laughing at the way he finger-fucked him. It went on for a little while, then things got even worse when Tusk purposely took his time to press a second finger against Reilly's entrance. The worgen shook his head, eyes pleading, but the orc simply grinned and shoved his second finger in along the first, spreading the worgen further and making the simple fingering all the more intense for the completely inexperienced male.

It was both extremely humiliating and confusing to Reilly as to why he remained hard and erect through the whole thing. There was something there that spurred his arousal even though he wanted nothing more than to get away from those... those beasts. The young worgen couldn't help it, however, and the drunken orcs got even more laughter at his expense. As Tusk's calloused fingers pressured at his entrance, Reilly realized with dread that the last bastion of his dignity, his knot, started to slowly emerge from his sheath. The unwanted feeling brought about by Tusk's fondling soon exposed all his manhood had to offer in its embarrassing stiffness. The green pigs cheered at their success.

Tusk wasted no time, as he grabbed the worgen's cock with renewed vigor and amusement. Reilly gasped as his cock was trapped in an iron grip that pumped up and down with such force that for a moment he was afraid that the orc planned to rip it off. All the while, the fingers that penetrated him did not relent in pressing at that strange spot. Reilly felt the pressure building up within him, but before he could do anything, the hand at his cock came down to grasp his knot with such force it made the worgen squeal. Tusk squeezed his knot as if it was a juicy fruit, almost crushing it in his palm. White jets of his seed started to unceremoniously spurt over his furry chest. There was no pleasure in it, only a burning sensation and a great deal of discomfort. Reilly laid there like a mess, his head lolled back, his legs still lifted up, but now without any struggle, they hung there like those of a ragdoll. Tusk let go of the canine cock, letting it slip between his fingers and land in Reilly's belly like a discarded toy after giving it a few rough playful slaps that made the worgen wince. Mustering his strength the worgen raised his head to look upon his tormentors.

Zudd was back to playing with his own cock while he watched and even Shirtless seemed to be licking his lips at the sight a few too many times. What really made Reilly panic with new energy, however, was when Tusk let his fingers slide out and stepped forward. Reilly looked up to see the orc's erect cock coming close to his entrance. Tusk rubbed it against, but the way Reilly was held he could do little more than grind his erection against the worgen's exposed balls, some pre-cum falling on Reilly's own cock...

"No! No, you can't-!" Reilly pleaded, but they ignored him. Shirtless let go of his ankles to let him fall and, while Reilly quickly tried to turn and get up on his knees to get away from them, they pounced on him before he could do anything. One of the orc's rough hands came to the back of his neck to press it against the floor. The worgen fought against them. More hands came to him, grabbing at him and trying to force him into whatever position they wanted him to be, but that was too much! Reilly whined, struggling, fighting it, when suddenly the sound of steps made them stop.

A new voice spoke from the entrance. Reilly, with his face pressed against the floor, couldn't even look to see what was happening, but the orcs talked among themselves some more. Tusk was the one that shouted something angrily at the newcomer, but all he got was a shout back and then, suddenly, all hands holding the worgen down let go of him.

Reilly immediately rushed to crawl away, turning around and sitting up to press himself against the wall. The orcs were grabbing their clothes, pulling their pants back up and tugging their hard or semi-hard cocks back into them sounding disgruntled. The worgen had no idea what was happening, but he couldn't feel any happier when Zudd just said something he couldn't understand to him and left. Shirtless stretched himself and followed right after. Tusk, however...

The large orc approached Reilly. He grabbed the worgen's chin and forced him to look at his eyes. That large tusk with the ring on it shone against the dim light of the lantern Zudd had left on the floor. With his breath full of alcohol, the orc said something to Reilly that sounded... suggestive. Then, the orc let go of his chin and that large hand instead moved down to roughly grab at Reilly's still half-hard member and give it a painful squeeze. The worgen whimpered, but thankfully, after that, the orc stepped back. The bulge on his pants was obvious as he adjusted it, grumbling something before turning back and leaving as well.

Reilly's ears stayed up and listened to the orc's heavy steps going down and away. It was only a few minutes after that, with his ears up and attentive, that Reilly finally let himself start relaxing a little. They didn't seem like they were coming back. Whatever had happened, it had saved him. The worgen looked down at himself. His member remained somewhat erect, a usual canine trait due to his knot and the release that had been shamefully drawn out of him.

The orcs hadn't even bothered dressing him back up or giving him anything to cover himself. Reilly pressed his legs together, the only thing he could do to hide his modesty. Looking at his discarded clothes on the side, he considered trying to somehow reach them despite the leash and put them on with his hands tied behind his back, but he felt... tired.

The fresh coat of spunk drying against his face had been left there as well. The taste of orc cum lingered in his muzzle and this time, there was no water he could drink to get it out. Not until they came back to bring him some, at least. After the experience and drunk as he knew they were, the worgen preferred to remain thirsty and with that taste in his mouth than to have to deal with those orcs again.

In the end, all Reilly did was lay down on the corner of the room. His ears remained up, afraid they'd still come back. Tusk's last words had felt like an ominous threat. No sound came. Though the worgen tried to remain on guard, he knew that if they did decide to come back, there was nothing he could do to stop them. Reilly didn't know when sleep overcame him again, but at some point, reality vanished and was again replaced by troubled dreams.

---

Loud yelling outside woke him from his fitful sleep.

He couldn't have slept long, or at least not as long as he should have, judging by the headache that quickly crept into his skull, pounding and pounding in rhythm with his heartbeat. Not even bothering to open his eyes, he just hoped that soon he could drift back into sweet, painless sleep and hopefully cure that pesky migraine with a bit more rest. If only the yelling from outside would just stop...

The stale air in the room brought a yawn out of him, and as he stretched out his maw and tongue, a jolt of dull pain spread through his jaw. The worgen's eyes shot wide awake in sudden panic and the beams of sunlight that were so gracefully shining right into his face from the cracks in the doorway made him feel as if a blacksmith used his hurting head as an anvil. He struggled a bit to get out of the sunlight, a task that was that much harder in his bindings, which he was reminded of as well. Once he crawled into a more pleasant position, the events of the rowdy night came back to him, bit by bit, and he realized that he could still taste them on his tongue, he could smell their sweat in the room. The scent of their seed clung to his breath, just as the white mess that covered his body clung to his fur, where it mixed with his own fluids and scent of arousal, which the orc so forcefully brought out of him.

Instinctively he gave his sore mouth a lick, vaguely hoping to mend the uncomfortable feeling, but all he achieved was getting more of their "essence" onto his taste buds. That made him stop quick enough.

He was already familiar with this feeling of the morning aftermath. The "hangover" almost. A really depraved and shameful feeling, but one that he already experienced once before, the morning after Rogak used him. Although, Rogak at least was not as violently physical as these orcs, or maybe it was just that his captor was alone. Reilly was almost surprised at his own relative calmness, but considering he expected to be tortured and executed, the degradation was acceptable in comparison, in the most absurd way that made his stomach turn.

He was sore, and the chill morning wind reminded him that he was naked as well. He looked down into his lap, where his abused cock lay half-sheathed and limp. Just looking at it made him feel a bit sorry for himself. He would have hoped that his tool would be in such a sorry state after a roll in a hay with a farmer's daughter and not after what happened the previous night. Seeing as imagining a freckled ginger shepherdess spreading her legs for him couldn't make his member even flinch, he figured that a morning wood was out of the question as well.

Reilly chuckled a bit. A bit of self-deprecating humor was the only thing that could possibly brighten his mood right now. A feat which was short-lived, as he became aware of another soreness. He had felt it for a while, but just now he fully paid attention to it. It was a soreness which he would rather forget. Just thinking about it made his ears fold back and his face grew hot with embarrassment. His pucker, which the 'Tusk' orc so ruthlessly violated with his hand, felt sore. Every time he moved his legs, he could feel it, which only made him remember the sight of the orc's fingers...

The worgen rolled around a little bit, trying to get more comfortable in a position facing the wall. As comfortable as the circumstances would allow anyway. He was thankful when he realized that the yelling from outside had stopped and that the peaceful quiet would make the rest more pleasant. Instead, his sensitive ears heard the wooden planks in the floors below him creak under heavy footsteps that were getting closer and closer.

His heart sank, and cold spread over his body in anxious anticipation.

The sound of footsteps halted and was replaced by the rattling of curtain rings as the cloth that protected the doorway was pulled out of the way. A large shadow spread over the wall, casting darkness into the small room.

Reilly at first hoped to recognize the intruder by smell, but in the cacophony of musk he couldn't possibly whiff the right scent. So instead he gathered his courage and slowly turned around.

He expected Zudd, his new owner, or one of his compatriots, but instead, he saw a face that made him calm and terrified at the same time.

Rogak Spearfang, an orc he never expected to see again, stood shirtless in the doorway with a cloth sack in his hand, his tattooed muscles exposed and his braid hanging lazily over his shoulder. His face was twisted into a disgusted frown, his nose wrinkled as he breathed in the virile stench that hung in the room.

"Where are your clothes?" He asked angrily. And Reilly knew that, despite having a new owner, he should better do as Rogak willed.

"Over there!" He squealed out in a raspy voice and pointed to the small pile of clothing and pieces of armor that lay by the side.

Without a word, Rogak walked over to the pile and started to sort the clothing out. He threw Reilly his linen shirt and pants and piled the rest of the armor into a bag, which he put by the entrance before he turned to Reilly.

Reilly couldn't even begin to guess what the orc had prepared for him as a punishment for his lies. Instead, the orc untied his bindings and ordered him to get dressed. Once the worgen was clothed in his shirt and pants, the orc bound him again and on a leash, grabbed the bag and led him out of the tower.

"You little piece of shit. I had to pay that pigfucker 80 gold pieces to get you back. Have you ever even seen that much gold in your life, pup?"

The worgen was stunned after hearing that. Why would he buy him back? Did he plan to kill him as he promised before? Why would he pay then? Would that be against some orcish law to kill him since he belonged to Zudd now? He couldn't possibly pay a sum that high just to kill him, right?

"Why?" asked Reilly finally in a shaky voice.

He expected the orc to scrutinize him with his red eyes, but Rogak didn't bother to even look at him.

"I hauled you for miles and ended up underselling you out of anger. I hoped to wash my hands of you, to cut my losses and move on. But then I thought about it, slept on it, and I decided that I will make use of you yet and make my money back. That mongrel-pup didn't want to give you up, we had quite a loud argument about it. In the end, you cost me a fortune once more..."

When they finally stood on the ground below the tower, the orc finally turned around and with one hand grabbed Reilly by the fur on his neck, making him squeal.

"Remember this, my patience has its limit, that escape attempt made me angry, that little lie you made up pissed me off, and if you try to pull a third stunt like this, you will regret having ever crawled out of your mother's cunt."

Rogak allowed a moment of silence to let his words sink in.

"Do we understand each other?"

"Yes..." The worgen answered, but the hold on his fur only tightened.

"Bark louder, pup."

"Yes!" Reilly almost screamed, but the hold on his fur tightened even more.

"Yes who?"

"Yes sir!"

A satisfied smile spread across the orc's face as he eased his grip.

"See, was that so hard?" He said with a cruel laugh.

Those two words left a bitter taste in his mouth but there was naught he could do about it. In silence, he followed the orc through the camp, until they stopped under a shelter by the main building's wall, where a black-haired orc sat on a hay bale with a relaxed expression inhaling from a hookah that was placed on the table beside him. From the boxes filled with diverse goods and the wagon nearby, the worgen assumed that this orc was a merchant, and he was soon proved right. Reilly watched in horror as Rogak emptied the bag on the merchant's table. All of Reilly's equipment, some of which he had to purchase himself and the rest of this clothing laid there for the trader's perusal. As the merchant examined the items before him, Rogak turned around and noticed the worgen's expression.

"Consider this the start of your repayment, pup. Besides, you want a hot meal, right? So, don't look so hurt."

Reilly did not like it one bit, but he had to admit, that at this point, a hot meal was more useful to him than a leather cuirass, so he bit his tongue and looked away.

After his gear was evaluated and sold, they headed towards the campfire around which they sat the prior evening while waiting for that damn goblin to arrive. By now, the fire was of course long cold and only grey ashes remained in its place. He seated himself again on the cold ground while the orc went to buy both of them a meal.

The smell of spilled alcohol around the firepit ruined the otherwise crisp morning air, which would be gone soon anyway once the warm sunlight that crept from the east made it stuffy and unbreathable. Some of the orcs and trolls were already running about their duties, but no one paid Reilly any mind. His novelty had probably worn off yesterday already. He was happy that was the case, as it allowed him to enjoy a minute of rest away from that reeking room or his captor's presence. Speaking of the reeking room, now that he smelled the clean air, he could contrast it with his own smell, which was, after yesterday's events, frankly putrid. No doubt Rogak would wish to clean him up at some point soon, but this time he would gladly take the offer.

Soon the orc returned with two wooden plates, both with a large serving of roasted chicken, vegetables and bread. Reilly wanted to cry from the smell alone as he bit into the deliciously tender meat. He washed it down with water, while Rogak drank the strange orcish alcohol he smelled yesterday. While he himself was greatly fond of ale, he did not dare voice any request. Deep down he was thankful for this meal, but he would be damned before he thanked that orc for anything!

As he ate, he saw from the corner of his eye one of the orcs who visited him during the night. Shirtless was clearly dealing with a serious case of hangover, as he walked around aimlessly before he bent over and vomited into a bush. Seeing that bastard having a bad time brought pure pleasure to Reilly, as well as entertainment while he ate.

"You better hope that this meal will be enough for you." The orc broke the silence. "In the next few days I hope to reach the port of Booty Bay. And you better pray that you will prove lucrative. For your own sake."