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"Are you really Dayn? The Dayn Silvertongue?"

"Indeed, it's me!"

"By Tyr! I never expected to find the Bard who participated in the Southern conquest and the Shadowfell expedition! And how you slew that white dra-"

"Calm down, don't scream. I am an Inn owner here, simple as that."

In his baritone voice, the said "Owner" placated his interlocutor and raised a hand, palm down, to invite him to sit. This... The former Bard never got used to it. To the crowd flanking him in admiration or those who asked if all the exploits were true.

The Tiefling sighed, then forced a smile on himself. Compared to the other Tieflings scouring the realm, Dayn stood up with deer-like gray horns sprouting from his forehead. His skin, ashen yet with a tinge of cobalt, seemed as cold as the night, while those blue eyes sported a sclera as dark as the void. Demonic features were contrasted with his braided pepper and salt beard, his broken nose, those attached greying hair, the missing left upper canine... And that smile, amicable as he spoke to the white-scaled Dragonborn by his side.

"But, sir! You have done so much! Why... Why are you here?" asked the strapping creature with his clinging teeth and that inquisitive grey gaze.

Why? Honestly, Dayn could not tell. This inn, his place, was almost in the middle of nowhere. A small village southeast of Luskan, placing it far up north and from civilization. The winters were rigorous and the summers short, so he was needed here. To bring warmth and comfort.

And they were not concerned by his attics, perfect.

With a sly grin, he took a sip of the mug to find it empty, almost shaking it down.

"I am enjoying my retirement. Threats have been dealt with, as you said, and my footsies appreciate not to walk and walk through all those hellish landscapes."

"I-... But you're not feeling any desire to travel? And what about your old companions? Most of them are still fighting outside, slayin-"

"And I have no interest in following them in death. If I have to meet my afterlife, it's in my bed. Or choked to death by a half-orc-... Hrmph!" suddenly coughed the Tiefling, attempting to divert the attention.

"What?"

"What?", Grumbled the Tiefling as he averted his gaze on Inn's customers, spread among the main. Then he rattled his tankard against the table. A message loud and clear in the tranquil tavern. If it didn't account for the lecherous attitude of the patrons.

"You said you want to be choked to death by a half-orc?"

"Haha, that's... That's not what you think," continued the Tiefling as he watched the sole waiter and cook fumble into sight.

A burly half-orc whose green skin had taken a dulled hue over the years. With those broad shoulders and exposed arms, it was clear the man could break anyone's neck in a split second. And that grizzled hair all over his balding head, arms, and chest exuded experience. Equaled only by the eyepatch covering the left eye. However, it didn't stop there as he sported a broken tusk and many scars covering his body.

That man possessed a terrifying aura... Lest the fact he wore nothing but a brown apron, used and stained with wine and other fluids.

"What can I do for you, my Lord?" promptly asked the orc with his bass voice, his unique golden eye glistening with cold respect.

"I will take the true Orcish beer. Put it on my tab."

"Of course, my Lord," responded the waiter with a cold tone, exaggeratedly leaning over the table to retrieve the empty mugs. And then, turned away. Without giving a thought to the men and women here who saw his exposed hairy ass, covered with lashes mark, and whose hole seemed coated with cum.

Below those glutes and between those thighs stood a pair of orange-sized and low-hanging testicles, bushy yet so delectable to Dayn's eyes.

Until the Orc disappeared from the view they had from the small alcove, leading the Tiefling back to the aghast Dragonborn. Despite his stance of an experienced fighter, he was seemingly young and innocent. And it surely was the first time he had witnessed such a scene. Or rather, the source of it.

"Wait..." he finally uttered while shaking his head.

"Yes?"

"Is- Is this Lurger? Lurger from the Golden Arrow, you- A member of your brotherhood? I thought he had gone to the wild expanses to hunt a demon!"

With a sigh, the Tiefling began to pick at the silver ring he wore around his finger. Each time an adventurer came here, the rumors increased both in baloney and intensity. Though, for the moment, nothing had bested the truth.

"Tell me, remind what's your name again?" asked Dayn with a courteous expression.

"Arribal, sir."

"Don't sir me, it's Dayn," scolded the Tiefling until he resumed. "You are likely sent by someone from Waterdeep, or Neverwinter, or any big city up sout-"

"I'm from Karatin, they need the Golden arrow back."

"From where?"

"Ka-ra-tin.", articulated the Dragonborn. But the name meant nothing to Dayn, his cocked eyebrow giving it away.

"Karatin in Shou lung?"

Still nothing.

"Kara-tur?"

Zilch.

"Far east, far from Faerun."

"... Ahhhhh," exclaimed the Tiefling though it still meant nothing. But if that runt was coming from that far, there was a good reason. A decidedly good reason. "Well. It's... Impossible."

"But, sir! I mean Dayn! What is your reason for-"

"I'm used to this life here. And so is Lurger."

Speaking of the devil, the loud steps of the buck-naked orc echoed through the stone-made room. There, in the corner of the Tiefling's blue eyes, appeared the titan with a mug in hand. A tankard that was almost dwarfed by that hand. But delicate as the warrior was, he gently placed the beer on the table and was already turning aside.

Until Dayn called him out: "Hey Waiter, wake up."

Akin to being drenched in water, the orc's placid demeanor stopped, replaced by a frozen body, then a more rigid stance.

And as if it was the first time he noticed it, Lurger puts his fingers on his ass that was... Leaking that time?

"Hey, sweetheart. Are you feeling alright?" asked the Bard with a caring voice.

"Hmm, hmm. I am, you know how many used me tonight?" responded Lurger while rubbing his fingers against the swollen and gaped rim.

"Nu-hu. I was busy discussing with that gentleman, but I'd count at least three from your constant back and forth."

"Heh, that's what I thought too. Drinking some Orcish beer?"

"Of course, now see off. You're on duty!"

With a grin, Dayn sent the warrior away, returned to his cold and almost robotic attitude.

Again to return to the aghast Dragonborn. However, the male quickly recovered this time and shook his head in defeat.

"Okay s-, Dayn. I have the impression I'm going crazy. What is happening here? Why is Lurger naked like this, and you are acting so nonchalant? Why is everyone else acting like it's normal?"

Not waiting for another question, Dayn raised a finger while he brought the mug to his mouth and tasted the beer's aroma alongside a more pungent and salty flavour. One he enjoyed in loud gulps. Then in a burp.

"Okay then, it's a long story. Are you sure you want me to count that one? Perhaps you should run outside and see if another member of the Golden Arrow is available?"

"I can't... Blizzard."

"Oh! Right! I tend to forget the climate. Well then, you're lucky because I'm also feeling in the mood!" began the Tiefling as he stood up before the Dragonborn, his expression darkened.

Arribal seemed to shrink when the fiend fumbled with his belt and took a step to bestride the Dragonborn's lap.

"I hope you have a good tongue because it's a tad long. And there are more stories behind!"

"My- Tongue? Dayn, what are you doing?"

"Well. Being a good host and offering you a meal!" exclaimed the Tiefling.

And in a flump, the purple-colored pants alongside his black skirt were pulled down, down to the ankles; until the demonic tail began to flick and flail the air in envy. And below it... Well, there was a generous sight: two large grey-blue asscheeks covered with greying hair with a swampy crack in the middle. The scent coming of it was almost mind-numbing: the musk and sweat branded the sensitive Dragonborn's nose. And the poor Arribal was already drooling, watching that fat ass, while ignoring the Tiefling's massive hairy nuts between those thighs.

"Here. You appreciate the view?" asked the Bard while pushing and making some room on the table to lean on until he was on his elbows. His buttocks exposed and lifted, he gave no heed to the fumbling and grumbling from the young. Instead, he kept swinging his lips left and right and summoned an invisible to tug on those cheeks. All to reveal the swollen asshole in between. A dark rim coated with sweat until it glistened in the reflected candlelight.

A meal, a delightful promise the Dragonborn took by plunging his muzzle in, without a forewarning.

"Outch! 'forgot about the scales! Don't move too much!" ordered Dayn through his heaving breath and moans when the flickering tongue began to lick his rim clean. "Hrmphhh. Well, what an eager boy. Well, where were we? Ah yes! Lurger!-

It all started after our last expedition in the Shadowfell. Lurger and I had lost a few friends in the fold, and we desired to retire. At that time, we had already been married though we told it to nobody but Gwain, who blessed our union.

And we- Slow down on the tongue! I have a tale to count.

So. We decided to buy and renovate an Inn somewhere up north, where nobody would find us. And you have seen what a success it is. Lurger and I explored many villages until we landed here and found this one with no tavern but a ruin. We bought it, began to restore it, and became a proper couple of innkeepers.

During that time, I was trying not to abuse magic. I mean, when you are an adventurer, you are constantly relying on your wits and power. But if we wanted to be discreet, I had to stop wielding it, or Lurger would force me to.

So, no Polymorph in bed, no mage hand to quickly fetch something, n-

"Polymorph in bed?" asked Arribal, yanking his tongue out, leaving a trail of saliva connecting his mouth and that gaped hole.

"Yes, Polymorph in bed. You have never tried having a cunt before, don't you?"

"I- the thought never occurred, Dayn."

"Well, it's great. Mouth now.", ordered the Bard while shoving that dragon's muzzle back between those hairy cheeks to lick them clean... And to stretch the Fiend's supple hole.

As I said, no mage hand to fetch something or restoration to deal with hangover. He was constantly behind my back, attempting to make me gain "good habits" as he called them.

And we bickered about it days and nights. Up until it happened, we discussed of hypnosis.

See, I had the clever idea to use the mystic arts of hypnosis so that plebs would be oblivious to my spells. And since it wasn't magic, no mage would notice.

And... I kid you not! He told me hypnosis is not real and it doesn't work. In a world where we slew demons, dragons, and other shit, he told me hypnosis doesn't work. To me!

So, guess what I did?

"Hrmphhh!"

"What?"

"Hrmphh! Hmmph!"

"Articulate!" ordered the Bard... Before he noticed he was still shoving that muzzle up his ass.

"Hh... You-" swallowed the Dragonborn, red in the face. "You... Hmm... You took a bet?"

"Hey, not bad. Now, return to that ass, chop-chop."

Indeed I made a bet with him. If I managed to hypnotize him, he would recuse what he said. And give me free rein to utilize magic. But if I failed, I'd be his bitch.

So, here we were. Naked in our bedroom, with me twirling a coin in my fingers like I was instructed. Did I tell you he didn't even want to look at it?

I had to mage hand his jaw to get him to look at it, and after ten seconds, he was all gone. I mean, all in trance and all... I don't know the term, sorry.

But picture him! The great Lurger drooling and grunting like a beast! And when I ordered him to fuck me like one, he did! I ended up parched, almost a raisin. Best two days ever.

You can imagine a big half-orc, with his skin covered with scars and dark hair. He looks down at you with an angry scowl as he's about to make you his bitch. His swollen hard cock stands between his legs, stiff and throbbing, while his scent breaks your inhibitions. He puts a firm hand on your shoulder, almost crushes it too, and orders you in three words: "Get working, bitch."

His voice so authoritative you can only answer, "Yes si-"

"Hey!" growled the Tiefling while caressing the cheeks Arribal had smacked with those gauntleted hands.

"You were going on a tale about a Half-orc. I want to know what's happening, not the porn."

"... Fine!" growled the Bard as he pouted, his head laying on his crossed arms.

So after he fucked me senseless for hours, I decided to create triggers. He would not believe me if I told him we had fucked all that time. I mean, look at that fuzzy ass, who can igno- Outch! Got it!

I created stupid trigger words like "Good doggy", forcing him to crawl on all fours until I told him "On your feet". Or... Hmmm. I admit I've lost counts and the list of the triggers I've made.

I mean, Lurger authorized me to do stupid shit if I proved Hypnosis to be working, and he was right here!

Althouuuugh, I may have gone overboard. During one of our opening nights, I mistakenly said "Strip" to him, in a joke. It's silly, but some villagers knew about me and asked for a show. So I turned to Lurger and asked him: "If that was okay for me to strip".

Imagine how surprised they were when Lurger stripped all the way down, without his apron, and acted as if it was normal. I had to drag him in the back just to wake his idiotic ass.

In a grunt and growl, the Dragonborn pulled from those cheeks after having coated them in large amounts of saliva. The hairy crack was soaked, and that asshole was so covered it looked glazed... And prepared.

"How did he react?"

"To this? Pretty good, in fact. At that time, I was still figuring out how the whole deal worked. And to be fair, I was also trying to remove some triggers."

"But it's what you wanted?"

"Have you made wise decisions while drunk?" retorted the Fiend, while snapping, then pointing his ass. Though the Dragonborn did not plunge his face back.

With a loud clunk, the warrior removed his gauntlet. Beneath was his white-scaled hand, whose fingers ended in clipped nails. Then, plunged his digits between those cheeks, spreading them and fingering that swollen orifice. In a tug, he exposed the Fiend's inner walls, caressed the softened and lubricated flesh before inserting the whole index there. For a second, nothing was said while knuckles were pushed inside. Followed then by the middle finger, the ring, and the pinky. All of those easily slid in a loud slurp copiously complemented by the Bard's bucking hips and bitten lips.

"I never did," answered back Arribal.

"Hrmphh... So did I. You want the rest of the story?" prompted the shameless Bard, grinning to the crowd attracted by their "meeting".

"No need."

"A shame, I could have told you he enjoyed the first time he got used by a pa- Hrmphh- hnhfhh... Hmmm... O- Okay."

Bucking his hips and almost grinding his stomach against the wooden table, Dayn switched from his lips to his sleeve to bite. All to endure as the Warrior pushed in with his fingers... Pulled out and closed his fist. In a prickling pain, the thumb finally slid in, and Dayn exhaled by releasing the sleeve.

Sweat poured on his forehead, his disheveled hair fell over his head as he heaved on the table. And felt the motion in his ass, the steady back and forth from Arribal. That, along with the sensation of the knuckles pressing his prostate with enough strength to make his toes curl in his shoes... And to sense he was stepping in a puddle.

"Hhhh... By Oghma. This is not your first time doing...- Hhh... This?"

"It is. I have never-"

"Fisted. You are fisting me, keep going.", grunted the Fiend, nestling his head in his elbows and feeling his legs almost slump. Though he remained on the table by the hand on his hips... And the fist now scoured his ass, spreading his inner walls. Back and forth, in and out, the whole arm plunged deeper each time the relaxed asshole gave in. The clenching muscles uncoiled one by one as the fist progressed inches by inches.

"Hrmphh- Hhhh... I should have... Taken some oil.", groaned the Bard while his tail flicked the air and almost smacked Arribal across the face before it was caught and pushed aside.

"You don't seem to need it... Your ass is taking me entirely."

"... That-... Too. Hrmph... I love when it's rough too," answered back Dayn with a frustrated grunt. Quickly turned into a squeal when the firm hand smacked his left cheek. And the other, and again. That ashen skin quickly took a bright red hue, under the sneers from the audience.

No one doubted what was happening, particularly when the usual malice on the Tiefling's face had mellowed into pleasure: his eyes almost crossed while drool escaped from his mouth onto that luscious beard.

Smack! Smack!Smack! The sound echoed with each slap from that gauntleted hand.

And the old Bard whined. He was entirely fisted by that Dragonborn; so much so his lower-belly almost bulged from the strain. And yet, the fist pushed further and further. The pressure below his skin increased, as well as the sensation of being bloated. But at no time did he utter a "stop" or ask for the Dragonborn to remove his hand. Instead, he relished the sensation of the wrist utterly crushing his prostate and inner walls, the caress of the knuckles inside him. Knuckles that pressed on, that wrist moved in and out. The whole arm exerted its strength on the rim, and the forearm began to enter.

A sight to behold, tantalizing until it disappeared.

Concealed by one of the patrons, a burly human whose hairy pubes and giant cock were offered to the Bard. And it did not take long for the Tiefling to swallow that greasy dick in mouth, to slobber over the length with love and care as he was lifted and almost thrown over the table.

A moment that turned for the best, and the worst, when the Dragonborn pushed another inch of that arm inside that voracious ass. And Dayn swallowed the offered shaft in its entirety without a reflex. A moment of pure lust where he drowned himself in the scent of piss and sweat permeating those pubes while he clenched his throat around the glans, the throbbing length.

He thrust, in and out. Although the patron did not take long to fill that throat and for another to take his role, another human who did not hold himself as he used those horns to throatfuck Dayn.

The Fiend moaned, groaned, whined. His idle hands faintly caressed the low-hanging testicles, his weakened legs attempted to clench and release the pressure ruining his ass.

But it was all in vain, a failure as he was wrecked... Used, abused, ruined.

The smacks increased, grew in intensity until those hits managed to jolt the accustomed Bard, to bring out a treble note from his singing voice... And for him to fall before the next man who awaited a hungry mouth.

In a wail, he felt the tight fist crush his prostate, and his body gave in, in a small shock that ended with the Bard gasping on the table, butt naked... And the Dragonborn behind him, his breath as loud as the poor man he had abused.

"Hhhh... Fuck. You- Are you okay?" urged Arribal while grasping his host's shoulders to return him... And watch Dayn wince when that grazed ass touched the wood. But here he was with his body of muscle and fat exposed... And his manhood. A pole, a mast of almost nine inches, while violating basic biology, which spewed cum again and again on that pudgy belly and the table: a gift of those immense testicles.

"By... Oghma. A- Are you sure this was your first time?" croaked the Bard with a half-grin and a broken voice.

"Yes! I was so into the moment, and... I- I am sorry for your ass... For you!"

The poor Dragonborn was more than sorry when he witnessed those cheeks covered with bruises and minor scrapes, along with those trembling legs. From the small cuts on those cheeks, gifts from the metallic gauntlet he wore, escaped faint trails of crimson blood.

Yet, the Fiend kept that devious expression while his tail kept waging.

"Heh... My- Voice. Maurice! You'll pay for that!" he half-growled while bringing a hand to his sore throat to massage it. "Fucking my- mouth like that. Mi mi mi-"

"What are you doing?" stopped Arribal.

"Clearing my throat and warming it... Mi mi mi- Erk... I- I still it'll do. Bite and beat, heal my ass, it's not a feat!"

In three verses, the slight cuts disappear, followed by the bruises over those cheeks, until all remained what that hairy ashen skin, devoid of any default. A mere spell but enough for the Bard to suddenly straighten his back and sit on the cum-coated table while massaging his neck.

"Ah, way better," he stated with a crystalline voice before patting the Dragonborn's muzzle. "Do not worry, I am used to worse. You don't want to see my state after Lurger rutted me. Broken bones are not in our repertoire, but I can thank that spell for healing my pelvis."

Despite the Bard's nonchalant attitude, Arribal scowled and grimed in disgust. This place was certainly odd. More than he had thought, especially after he had watched customers lecherously stroking their bulges... Or going to get a turn with the Bard at his expense.

"I feel dirty for... Having done this," he said, slumping on his chair.

"Oh, you can. You still have some fluids on your hand," jeered Dayn. His blue eyes locked on that pure look of disgust and on those hands rushing for the napkin, all for a modicum of hygiene. "But it is alright. I mean, that's why this inn is for."

And to respond to this affirmation came a cocked eyebrow.

"Of course, it is. Well, it is now, but not when we opened it, Lurger and me. We desired to have a small nest for us, a perfect retirement without worries," he continued while balancing his legs at the table's edge, disregarding the people still eyeing his exposed ass. "But when Lurger stripped and came the whole debacle, I was approached by one villager. And it came to my understanding this village, or all the villages around, desperately needed a place to release some steam. If you get my swing."

"A brothel?"

"Ahhh. Perhaps, but no. I don't employ girls here, it's neither my think nor is Lurger's. But we allow them here, and everyone has their fun. I'm also a one-man brothel for those who appreciate perfect."

And with that wide grin, the Fiend lifted both feet to lean sideways on the table. His head resting on his hand while he lifted the right leg in a pose that could have been sexy... If not for his slacks still around his ankles, the puddle of cum, or even the fluids marring his hairy body.

"Usually, I ask my customers to pay for such performance, but you were so good that I'll do it gratis for you," Dayn added, then winked.

"Urgh. Please, could we... Just return to the first subject we had? You... Know, the reason I am here? To make you join the Golden arrow?"

"Like I said. Hard pass. For both of us. I don't like to die."

"But... But you can resurrect. I even saw your magic at work, and you told me about your... Pelvis."

Immediately, a scowl appeared on that face. And a pointed finger poked the Dragonborn's nose.

"A broken pelvis is nothing compared to having your soul ripped out of your body."

"You had your soul ripped out of your body?!"

"No. But one of our companions did, though no tales are recounting his demise," exhaled the Bard, his hand tapping the wood table, his trait distorted with... Anguish? "It was rather gruesome, hearing his cries. We endured dismemberment, some had to be brought from death, and we faced impossible odds."

For a moment, the Bard stood still. His breath nothing but a faint whisper until he sighed: "I'd rather not do that again. And I'd advise you not to follow our example. There is much to do in this life!"

"Like what?"

"Well, fucking me is a first!" laughed the Bard before he straightened himself and sat at the table's corner.

Arribal's mouth curled, disappointed, even disgusted. However, the Bard elected to wave his hand before the young warrior. But something seemed off.

"There is no need for you to waste your life away trying to catch up with tales of legends. There will always be someone above you. Even the Golden Arrow, we were just a band among others."

"I- I want to make a difference, to stand out. To make my family proud of leaving them on an adventure."

The factitious grin was no more. Instead, remained a mellow expression when the Tiefling patted the Dragonborn. He then edged over the table and fought with his trousers to lift them to his knees. And with a fluidity borne from experience, he jumped off the table while managing to slide entirely into his slacks... Well, until the Dragonborn noticed an opening on the front to leave his genitals breathe. Hence the skirt, or rather kilt, above.

"You're reminding me so much of us at your age. Well, it can't be helped. Come."

"Where?"

"Well. At another table, unless you want to eat on a cum-painted table," pointed the Bard with a dismissive thumb before leading Arribal away. A different table, a clean one. But the eyes, and nose, of Arribal were on the reeking and damp Bard's trousers.... A detail Dayn let the customers feast upon until he disappeared behind the kitchen to reappear with a bottle of wine and a plate of stew. And a half-orc in toe, carrying some cutlery, bread, and cheese. Their face stoic, they arranged the table.

All for Arribal, who inhaled the aroma from the stew, and almost drooled before the odd couple.

"What is this for?"

"Heh. Just a gift, now eat and wait."

And so Arribal did as he was left to his own device, to observe the inn. No longer hidden in his alcove with Dayn, a whole different perspective opened to the young Warrior. The place may be rustic, with its stone floor and some walls made of the same arrangement, but decorations were present. The sconces, attached to the wooden pillars, were cleaned while the floor sported fewer stains than a Palace's banquet room. Of course, the place was scarce in tapestries, though they were placed at strategic points to avoid plain naked walls. And above him, well, he could sometimes hear steps from people taking a room for the night. Mostly villagers or travelers preferring to pay than to confront the Blizzard.

Arribal himself could count himself as one of those, even though his purse was almost empty by now. Perhaps he would have to rely on little offers once back to Luskan.

And akin to his ears suddenly being unplugged, he was drowned in the noise from the common room. Small talks of friends touching base, players playing cards, or some planning their next hunt in the woods nearby. There were also messengers, brave fools who dared the blizzard and were standing by the fire to warm up their frozen fingers; to them, a refill of their wine flask was offered, and many barely cringed at the sight of Lurger passing around, instead thanking the peculiar waiter before they would resume their trek to Luskan, or another inn up south. Despite being a Bard, Dayn was not the one to play, so the ambiance entirely relied on the patrons' positive attitude.

Strangely, it made sense to the Dragonborn. And in a grunt, he picked up bread to clean up the plate. The meal was as rustic as the place, with traces of carrots, lamb, and potatoes. But it filled the stomach and appeased a tension the Warrior had experienced since he entered the inn. Everything was just so familiar... And simple.

"Hey. Dayn's not thrown ya away? Great job," whispered a voice close to Arribal's ears, close enough to startle him right as he was cutting himself some cheese.

Followed then by a rough hand on his shoulder and a man entering his field of view. Balding, portly, bearing a few scars and missing two fingers on the left hand, the tanned man grinned with his horseshoe mustache.

"Hmmm. Yes. He seems quite... nice! He offered me the meal," responded the Dragonborn with a confused look, especially as he watched the balding man open the wine bottle and fill the glass on the table.

"Heh, no need to be pruddy. He can be an ass and a weirdo. But he's fine and has reasons. By then, he would've thrown you out on the road. Fisted him good if he likes you. Hehe," joked the man as he lifted the bottle to stop pouring. " 'Name is Maurice."

With the introduction, the man handed the filled glass to Arriba. He even lifted it a little to indicate the Dragonborn to take a sip. And appreciates the taste of the liquid.

"Mine is Arribal, and..." replied the Dragonborn soberly although he was not as sober as when entering the inn. And with a visible swig, he swallowed the wine. There were dregs, but the aroma was rich and luscious, almost sticking to the tongue.

"You... You were here at the table."

"Of course, if it wasn't me, you'd have someone else taking a turn with Dayn. He's got a good mouth, prolly the hours spent spit-polishing his orc hubby," answered Maurice back, while pointing in the Half-orc's direction: still butt-naked and yet running from one table to another. As for the Tiefling, he seemed to have disappeared and a messenger as well.

But as he looked up, he noticed people leaving their seatings in small groups. And how the inn seemed empty by now.

"Nobody is bothered by all... This?"

"Heh, at first. 'had one of our priests scream bloody massacre," pointed Maurice... While pointing at a man whose rigid posture could not be concealed with "work" clothes. "'almost expected them to be Shar cultists or anything the like, they struck up as a bit shady. But then, we got to know them. Sex aside, they be quite the lovely bunch. And out of service too."

"Out of service?"

"Yeah, when not working."

"Because of... The hypnosis?"

"Haha, yes. Let'me show ya."

With a grin, the facetious human raised two fingers to attract the Half-orc's attention, who swiftly came to them, his demeanor still mechanical.

"What can I do for you?" he asked in a dulled voice.

"Hmm... You'll see, lad. Lurger, tell me about yourself."

"I am Lurger, your current host tonight. The menu is available, and if you wish to use me, you can pay for it. Five silver coin for my mou-"

"That's good, Lurger. Just let the lad have a moment with your ass. On my tab."

"Noted."

No different than a warforged, the Half-Orc bowed his head and circumvented the table to be by the Dragonborn. Then turned his back away from him, while tilting his torso forward. Then locked his hands on those cheeks, spreading them. A waft of aroma instantly rushed to the Dragonborn's nostrils as he saw the gaped orifice and the cum hosed all over the crack and rim. The stench of sex was almost intoxicating, though the warrior noticed the backed-up hairy testicles.

There, in that instant, it was almost as disgusting as tempting to plunge his mouth inside that hole, to drown himself in the scent and taste of men's fluids. A moment where he let loose his tongue to taste the permeating perfume.

The clawed digits reached for the scars-ridden and hairy cheeks before he planted a kiss on the hole. For an instant, the rim contracted then relaxed... And cum poured within the Dragonborn's mouth: an avalanche of different tastes mixing with the half-orc's musk, sometimes salty, sometimes sour. And in the end, delectable. So much so he felt his loins stirring while he plunged his tongue deeper and closed his eyes.

By his lips, he felt the orc's flesh, relaxed but giving off warmth and a pungent taste, the hair strands rubbing his nostrils, the liquid he swallowed with loud gulps. How many did cum in that magnificent ass? How many filled it?

In the back of Arribal's mind, the question was asked. Though his thoughts only focused on the gauntleted and bare hands, both working in unison to maintain the orifice spread and the cum flowing: between his lips, down his throat, right in his gullet.

He flicked the tongue, managed to spot the prostate of the burly hybrid to caress it.

"Hey, Waiter, wake up!"

"I'm awa- Hrmphh! What- Again, Dayn?!"

Beneath his hands, around his tongue, Arribal felt the muscles clenching and fighting against his presence until he was suddenly pulled away from this delectable paradise.

And instead thrust into a cold world, where he saw Lurger leaning over and grumbling... Dayn by his side and frowning... And finally, Maurice over there, fumbling while pulling on his trousers to keep them on, hurrying towards the door.

Leaving the three, bare the few somnolent and discreet patrons who were there to stay for the night, minding their own business.

And in his lust-addled mind, did the Dragonborn barely manage to listen to the exchange between Lurger and Dayn until he inhaled. And felt a drop of cum in his nose, making him gargle and suddenly wipe his mouth and face with the placemat.

"I should have counted on Maurice to ask for his tab," grumbled the Tiefling as he crossed his arms, tilting his head sideways. "That damn peep."

"It's fine... And I was in a good moment. I mean, eaten good."

Immediately, Dayn had a fit of laughter, and his chanting voice filled the room.

"From his face, I imagine so! We have an ass addict," mocked the Tiefling by pointing out Arribal, who still fought the remnants of cum all over his face.

An adorable scene that made the Half-Orc smirk.

"I get it why. You were talking with him, before? It's a bit hazy."

"I was, and you should have a moment with him. I'll get us some beer," commented the Bard, then strolled away, his gait marked by his whistling. Leaving both the Half-Orc and the Dragonborn... The latter remained ashamed, visibly from his bitten lips.

"Hello... Sir," he tentatively said while Lurger plopped nonchalantly on a chair, legs spread. But his unique golden eye was on the newcomer, gauging him.

"Heh, don't sir here. I'm no lord, and my hubby is not one either. Just... Well, 'name's Lurger!"

Unbothered by his skimpy outfit, the orc reached out in a handshake, one the Dragonborn quickly joined.

"Y- Yes! I know you. And all of your tales and legends, with the other members of the Golden arrow. My name is Arribal!"

Spouted the eager man, only to meet a frown from the old hybrid. Or what he assumed to be, referring to those constantly frowning brows.

"Ah. Another adventurer here to recruit us?"

He nodded and gulped.

"Does Dayn know about this?"

"Yes! I told him. And he instantly refused."

To that response, Lurger lowered his eyes to the emptied plate and wine bottle... Then, beamed with a wide satisfied grin. And reached for the Dragonborn's head to tousle it.

"Haha, you're all good! Don't worry, we're tired of idiots barging in like we will run out with them. 'had a few trying to beat my ol' ass in the middle here. 'quickly kicked them out, with a few broken bones."

Boasted the gruff man while puffing up his chest. But he deflated just as soon, and his expression mellowed. Now that he was awake, it stood out how lively he was. The way he deeply breathed as if he prepared himself for an effort each second, and how those lips curled in a scowl or a smile in a mere second.

"So, I guess you're stuck with the blizzard outside. Unless you walk to Luskan? You've got a horse?"

"I do. But I'd rather not travel now. And I do not know the road perfectly... And my savings couldn't permit me to find a warm place in a big city."

Another tousle, then the hand finally stopped to end beside that naked body.

"Then you're with us. Don't worry about the price. If Dayn offered you a meal, you also have a room. But 'am sure this dog has other ideas for you. And talking about him."

Indeed, talking about Dayn, he appeared with three mugs in hand.

One he gifted to Arribal, who took it and half-emptied it to wash away the taste of cum. But Dayn handed the remaining two to Lurger, who promptly picked up one... And then stopped.

"Hmm, you don't mind, Arribal?" he asked, one hand over his apron.

"Uh.... I don't?"

And from this answer, the young Dragonborn came to regret as the Half-orc pushed his apron aside. Enough to display that massive orcish cock, almost a club by its size and girth. The green-dark foreskin barely covered the black tip of that 10-inches cock, and the skin was pulled back while the mug was placed just below.

A half-filled mug.

And... The Half-orc sighed and emptied his bladder in it. Hot, steaming, yellow piss whose scent was distinguishable among the others permeating the Inn. An odor he could have ignored if it wasn't that concentrated. And if he did not hear its echo through his ears until the orc stopped. With the tankard filled to the brim, Lurger nonetheless took the opportunity to shake his dick and even massage it to get the last drops out before he handed the filled mug to his husband.

"Here's your true Orcish beer!"

A tankard swiftly retrieved and drank by Dayn, whose loud gulp sounded almost as hurtful to Arribal as the thought of drinking the foul mixture. Yet he watched and felt his cock stir in his pants. A shameful feeling he attempted to hide by keeping his hands down.

"Hey, you want a taste of it?" suddenly prompted Lurger. While harboring that splitting grin, all while shaking his cock. "I'm sure you- Ouch!"

Leaning over, the Tiefling had already sucker-punched the Half-orc and set aside his mug.

"Don't be a jerk and ask him like that. You have known him for less than five minutes, and are already offering him to piss in his glass. Have some dignity!"

"Said the Fiend who made him fist his ass in public, pervert."

"Wait... How do you know that? Weren't you supposed to be in a trance?", Dayn asked, frowning his eyes, then turning to the remaining customers for half a second.

"I was. But he was eating you out, and he's missing his gauntlet."

"... Fair. But he didn't need me to be so persuasive, neither do you."

In a muffled laugh, the Tiefling leaned on once more. But that time to stroke the orc's lap... And share a kiss with him, loud and filled with moans. Where their lips met, their saliva mixed, and their eyes closed in drunken pleasure.

"Hmm-," interjected the Dragonborn prior to coughing and attracting their attention.

Instantly, the couple stopped their display of affection, and the Half-orc quickly pulled his apron back over his genitals. But the obvious bulge beneath was not helping.

"Herm. Sorry, we were in the moment," excused the Dayn with a pitiful expression.

But then perked up as the Dragonborn raised both hands with open palms.

"No, no, it wasn't that. I- I am just curious about all this. And. I admit I'd like to try the..." began Arribal, only to mumble at the end. "The orcish beer."

So pitiful, so abashed. And here, the orc roared in laughter and slapped his knees.

"Hah! See, he's one of u- Hey, what are you doing?"

"You can take mine."

Dayn gave no chance to his husband to have his moment. Instead, he offered his quarter-full tankard. It was still giving off the pungent scent of piss and beer. An offer Arribal accepted cautiously, eyeing the foul liquid.

"So... What's tickling you, Arribal? We're not what you expected?"

That was a euphemism from Lurger, to say the least. But the young Dragonborn was not in the mindset to answer. He shook the tankard, watched the liquid hit the wooden recipient... And took a full swig.

And the couple cheered.

Both cheered for him as he felt the sour flavour at the tip of his tongue, followed by a saltier aftertaste along with some remnants he could not point out. The lukewarm presence washed over his palate and tastebuds, smearing that strange taste mixing beer and pee. But at the same time, instead of gargling and gagging at the taste as he expected, Arribal found himself savoring. And smacking his tongue against his palate while he swallowed the liquid and felt it end in his stomach.

There, it was over... Even though the remnants were there at the tip of his tongue: salty, sour, yet a bit stringent. And he grinned before the expectant eyes of his hosts.

"I- I think I like it."

"Heh, congratulations!" approved Lurger while patting the mellowed Arribal on the shoulder, then teased him by shaking that arm. "I have another batch just for you."

It almost felt like Lurger only needed a justification to fill the mug of Arribal.

"So... Arribal, you didn't answer my husband's question. What are you curious about?"

On that, the Dragonborn felt a bit more ashamed to ask... Especially with the orc eagerly taking a piss inside the other half-filled mug.

"Well. Are you... Okay with this?"

"With our retirement, of course. This is the life we de-"

"No, that's not what I implied. I mean, are you okay with me having... Fisted you?" asked Arribal... Before turning towards Lurger, who seemed thoughtful. But not as verbose as his lover.

"Hmmm. Nah. We're open. As long as we're together, we don't mind what the other do."

"Pretty much. He fucks around, I do too, we're good."

"You never had any disputes about this? Or any strong words to the other?"

Continued Arribal, only for the retired men to face one another, both grimacing as if pensive. Then returned to the newcomer to utter the same and unique: "Nah."

"I know Lurger can't always satisfy me, and the opposite is true. And well, Polymorph helps in our fantasies. What was our last adventure? That cuntish guard, right?"

"Hehe, yeah, that one. He is still hot, though. 'could play him tonight," he chuckled before the astounded Dragonborn.

In response, Dayn stroked his lover's chin and gave an enthusiastic explanation.

"Oh, it was just a request. We met with a guard, around his 60s, big belly, long hair, grey armor, with a scar across the nose. A petty cunt... So I turned into that guy and got myself cunted!"

Now, both were laughing hysterically at a joke Arribal barely grasped the sense... Though he imagined how it ended.

"So... Whenever you want someone else, you are going to that person. Or you're using... magic?"

"Hehe, yeah. Dayn is good at impersonating."

"And you're my favorite Beast."

Now piss-drunk, more than expected from the expression, Arribal sighed and pushed the now half-emptied tankard and reclined... Focusing on the Half-orc who teased the Tiefling's ass.

"And for the Hypnosis? Is this alright? Dayn could use it on anyone and-"

"Thththt. I'll stop you there, Arri'. I am not messing with people's heads if they don't want to," refuted the Bard with a raised finger. "And Lurger is fine, aren't you?"

"Yup! It's fine by me, and fun!"

"Bu... But you're hypnotized, and don't have control of your body. How is this fun?"

"Hmmm... Good question."

Suddenly thoughtful, the orc raised his gaze to the ceiling as if he could find an answer there. Then turned to Dayn, then to the Dragonborn. And shrugged.

"It's hard to tell," he began, instantly to continue when seeing those frightened eyes. "I do have control, but it's like... Well, when you're drunk and happy. You don't remember all, but you're feeling good. You should try it to understand. But I know if I'm doing something I don't like. It's... uh... Strange."

"I am not controlling his thoughts with it. I am persuading him of a role, and he's fulfilling it."

"And it's without danger?"

"... Heeeeeeeh."

The Bard lifted his hand, tilting it left and right in a doubtful expression.

"How can you do this if it's dangerous?"

"It's not dangerous. Well, we're only using it for our fantasies. And Lurger agrees to each modification beforehand. But I messed up before. If I ask Lurger who is his m a s t e r, he will have no choice but to feel compelled to answer."

"Is that true?"

"Yeah, you can ask me," responded Lurger truthfully. However, his expression was less satisfied than before.

"Well then. Who is your master?"

"Dayn is my master: the most benevolent, magnanimous, perfect, big dicked, sen- Hrmph!"

For some seconds, the Orc had begun to talk in his tone- deaf voice, only for him to groan and stop... And massages his temple.

"Heh, you avoided the part where I taught you your place. Guess you're finally resisting that trigger."

"... Woah. It's crazy you can do this. And without magic?"

"Without magic."

"On anyone?"

"Not if I say no," grumbled the Orc while massaging his temple. The resistance seemed to be quite painful on him.

"Like he said. But I could do it to anyone if I wanted."

"And you could do it to me?"

Lurger shrugged, Dayn grimaced.

"Why... is that? You are afraid I've used it on you?"

"Oh- no, no, no! I wasn't thinking of that."

"Then...?"

"I... Well. I am curious about how you live. You're telling me you are tired of being adventurers and are living your best life now. And you seem happy... Could it be possible I..."

"You?"

"I join you?"

"... Join us? Are you serious?"

"Eh, look at him, Dayn. He's literally cumming in his pants at the thought of joining us!"

An affirmation the Bard dutifully verified by looking below the table, and observing the Dragonborn's shaking legs... Then the abashed expression when he looked above.

And in truth, Arribal was a mess. Perhaps it was due to the shame of asking something so outrageous. It could also be the envy as he watched something he seemed to have missed for all that time.

Before him, Dayn was thoughtful... But then smiled, nodding.

"Okay then, I'll accept you to "join us" as you said."

"Thank you si- err, Dayn. I'll-"

"But there will be conditions to this, non-negotiable."

"Ahw. Don't be hard on the kid."

"I am not," retorted the Bard vehemently. Before he scowled at the Dragonborn. "First, you must pull your weight and work here as a waiter."

"Of course, I'll do anything."

"Then, I don't want you to hear you shrink on your obligations. No "I have a headache" or "I am not feeling it"."

"I-... I promise I will do that!"

"And third," snapped the Bard, making a coin appear in his hand. "You will write a letter saying you have not found us, and you will search south."

At this instant, the Dragonborn gulped a little as he was reminded of his work. He was here for a reason, after all. And now, he would be lying to them. At the same time, Arribal was not the only one in this fool's errands and... It was only perchance he managed to meet the couple. A folly.

"I'll do it."

"Perfect! I assume you will handle his training, Lurger?"

"Of course. His arms look like twigs."

"Wait! What training?"

"You want to be an adventurer, even if you're curious, right? Lurger will train your poor ass each morning while I handle the Inn. And by the time you return, you will wait on. You won't be paid but will be lodged and fed. Fair?"

"Yes. I think? Where will I be lodged?"

"In our room, of course. Now, observe that coin in my hand. And breathe. Breathe and listen to my voice."

Before his eyes, Arribal observed the coin dance between the ashen fingers. Dance, fall, recover, and yet continue its tango with the knuckles and digits, endlessly rolling. And shining. And gleaming. And beautiful.

"Now. You will listen carefully each of my words."

Words that came and disappeared. Thoughts that changed and bubbled, only to pop into Oblivion.

And yet, he was not in pain, or at a loss. Quite the opposite as peace toppled him, peace of mind, peace of soul, peace of body.

He took his gauntlet back. He cleaned the table.

He should not leave anything dirty in his wake, it was indecent.

He followed the couple into the kitchen and cleaned the mugs. They were so thoughtful to let him help, to give him a chance to be a part of this.

Arribal... Arribal... Arribal followed and watched his steps. One step was devious, and he could fall, so he watched it. Good.

As long as they were not in their room or on the ground floor, he had to remain silent. But that was alright, he was not to disturb the customers who paid his master.

He was a good employee. He wasn't an unruly idiot who would fight orders whenever he got the occasion.

They talked about him, explored his mouth with curious fingers. They were making sure of his health and reflexes. So kind, so thoughtful.

It was a shame he had to be reminded to strip, act, remove that heavy but useless armor. But again, they were charitable and allowed him to kn-

Arribal closed his eyes, only to suddenly experience a sting in his brain. A searing pain that almost drowned him, only for it to disappear... Instead, reminded of his own body.

His knees scraped against the wood, the hands touching the uneven and rough surface, the air rubbing his exposed backside and torso.

He took a breath. And gagged, gurgled, felt saliva dripping from his mouth. His breath was a trickle, throttled by something big yet indecent. Air barely trickled into his lungs, leaving only drowsiness behind.

His tongue caught the aftertaste of sweat and urine, of a salty flesh. And... he opened his eyes.

Before him stood a bush of grey hair, many rubbed against his nostrils while delivering soupcons on their fragrance. Pubic hair that spread in all directions, only to shrink and turn into a fine layer of smaller ones, covering the large dull-green thighs and round belly.

As if called out, Arribal closed his lips and attempted to caress the cock stifling his breath, experiencing the pure orcish taste rubbing against his palate and esophagus while he looked above. And watched the Fiend sitting on the orc's lap, his body only a few inches away while on those gigantic legs. And bending forward, the orc dwarfed Dayn as the green skin's tongue plunged within that mouth until the throat bulged obscenely. Surely no different than Arribal's, who felt so heavy... And stuffed. He could not lower his gaze, but a movement of hand revealed how taut was his belly, along with the liquid in him... Warm. Relaxing. He felt drowsy yet satisfied. Nonetheless urged to back off. To move his head back until the pressure in his throat abated, so followed the one against his uvula, tongue, then... lips.

And there, in a "plop", air rushed into the Dragonborn's mouth.

Air he savored as much as the luscious musk sticking to his scales.

"Arribal?" called Dayn's voice, crystal clear and almost intrigued. "You managed to wake up?"

A groan escaped from the Dragonborn as he looked around. Where he was.

And in a different room. Entirely made of wood, surely placed beneath the roof due to the ceiling's angle, the bedroom was warm and spacious. A sconce was lit, enlightening the room with its warm hue.

Furbished with wooden pieces of furniture, all seemed so rustic... And comfortable. And usable.

Laid on a desk was his armor, still reeking. While he was kneeling before the couple at the bed's edge.

"Arribal?" Called out Dayn once more, now his face looking down. Much like Lurger, who looked... Bigger. The height difference was already significant, but the half-orc seemed as big as a real orc in this instant.

"I- I am awake," managed to answer the startled Dragonborn. Only to notice how loudly he inhaled and how close he was to the hybrid's groin. Those immense cum-churning testicles, hairy and gurgling, and that cock that was spit-coated... And yet almost greasy.

It was... Alright to kiss it. To press the lips against the throbbing flesh.

"You choose an excellent slave to join us, bitch."

Even the Half-orc's... No, the Orc's voice was deeper, yet with a strange tone.

But there was the fiend... And Arribal looked at him.

Below those luscious clothes, the Tiefling's body was hairy, yet covered with slight scars over the arms, legs, and torso. They marbled his ashen skin with white strokes, proof of his experience. His hair was no longer tied, and it now fell on his back and shoulders. At the same time, his beard was caked with saliva and other grim, though he did not mind the dirtiness. And his slightly chubby form moved with ease and grace as he balanced himself on the hybrid's lap, his legs spread obscenely.

And obviously, they were now... Caged. Caged in silver. A delicate cage, surely crafted with talent.

A sight Arribal tried to avert his gaze from, only to notice the glowing purple runes on that belly.

Another kiss. From Lurger, from Arribal. Both to satisfy their respective desideratum, while hands moved to explore them. The Fiend's gaped asshole, the Orc's hefty testicles.

"Of course, my Lord, You deserve the best slaves in Faerun," answered the slave while restraining his grunts when Lurger scoured his self-lubricated hole.

The Orc's wicked grin was addressed to both, though he focused on the Dragonborn's long enough to pull on his horns and force him to back down.

With the same strength, Lurger locked his hands around the Tiefling's waist to lift and place him above that erected cock, greasy and magnificent. And without caring if Lurger could see him, the Bard winked with a sly expression.

"Here is your reward, slave. To guide my cock inside that hole," commanded their master with that cold authority.

And with a loud gulp, Arribal approached once more.

But only with his fingers this time, as he caressed the uncut cock, pulled slightly on the foreskin while he pushed and aligned the tip with Dayn's lowered backside, both in a shameful position. However, they were enjoying it and even loved it as the cock slid between those large and hairy buttocks, pressed into the swampy crack. And plunged without any resistance into that cunted hole.

An anus so used and prepared it swallowed the length and clenched weakly around while the dick progressed, invading the inner walls until the poor slave moaned, his caged shaft teared up, and his belly bulged with the Orc's cock.

It took down three seconds but felt more, way more, as the tantalized Dragonbornwatched the Tiefling's taut balls clench and cum leak from that cock, all followed by a beatified grin on that bearded face.

"Hhh... Master. Your cock feels so good," praised Dayn with a heightened voice and lecherous admiration.

But there were no answers from the Orc but an acknowledging grunt and those working hands. Powerful, locked below the knees now, the green skin suddenly lifted his bitch up. And impaled him down on the tip on the verge of leaving the orifice. A hammering completed by the Fiend's hefty balls almost hitting Arribal... And yet landing on the Orc's testicles.

And Lurger repeated his action, lifting and hammering that body down again.

Once more. Once more.

Sweat drops flew through the air, followed by saliva, precum, and lubricant. A mixture of fluids fell on the aghast Arribal as he admired that swollen rim swallows the hole ceaselessly, ever clenching and yet unable to stop the rutting beast. Soon, even their ragged breaths were silenced by the clapping of their testicles colliding in a smack that made the Dragonborn retain his breath... And excited him.

Enough... Enough for his hands to no longer reach for the Orc's genitalia and massage it, but rather on his own body.

On his 8-inch crimson cock that stood proudly between his legs, its angled tip dripping with fluids over its length, and then on those heavy testicles in that tight white soft-scaled scrotum.

Moving of its own volition, the hand wrapped around the length and grasped it firmly, seizing the sensitive flesh before he pumped it. Up and down.

Steadily, slowly at first. But then he hastened his pace, attempting to meet with Lurger's movements.

Up and down, up and down.

So was the Fiend's pliable body, with his groans and moans; so was the Dragonborn's firm hand, stealing grunts and whispered praises.

And Arribal observed, happily masturbating while drunk on the Orc's musk permeating the room, drenched in precum while the pace became frenzied, barbaric. Dayn's expression was no longer a grin but a defeated mask, his eyelids half-closed and his tongue flailing with each impalement.

And... There was the grunt.

Profund, brutal, bestial.

The Orc's stopped, halting himself inside the Fiend's asshole. All while he weakly humped the air, and his scrotum clenched. Soon, the Bard's weakened hand reached for his softening belly as cum was poured inside, turning the faint curve into a roundish tummy.

Which quickly deflated when the Orc's lifted the bitch, and pulled out.

He could have stayed inside, enjoying the warmth. But there was a slutty Dragonborn masturbating between his thighs, and in a movement, he showered that slut with cum, leaving the white-scaled Dragonoid kneeling in a puddle of pure Orcish seed.

Plopping the wrecked Bard aside, the Orc beckoned his next victim with a teasing index.

"Come. I must attend to your need. Your cunt must be hungry if you're playing with your clit."

In the back of the Dragonborn's mind, he did not want to heed that order. Yet, he left his needy cock aside to stand up and approach.

An action he almost regretted when the broken tusk rushed to his lips, almost grazed them while a large tongue invaded his mouth and throat. Or when fingers scoured his asshole, stretching him wide... Wider than he thought himself to be capable.

Those fingers were almost as big as his nethers, yet they slid easily in him... And he... he pushed his ass against them, impaling on those knuckles.

There... The Orc retracted his tongue before it pushed inside the throat and the fingers before they could provide satisfaction to the bitch.

"So needy. You ought to be taught your place."

The Orc's breath was tingling the Dragonborn's neck right when those green digits descended on the legs, guiding them until Arribal bestrode that lap. And faced that monster, or rather looked up to it.

While his lord looked down with that cruel gaze. And humped the air, hitting that cock against those spread cheeks.

"Beg."

"Pl- Please, Master. Ruin my hole!" Begged the slut.

And that higher-pitched voice echoed through the room, never to be heard by anyone beyond those walls.

The Orc grinned in return. There, with those arms, he lifted the heavy creature until that ass was aligned with the green orc with that cum-drenched tip. And he lowered, but slower.

Slower enough for the Dragonborn to sense his heart beating, to question what he was doing, to experience the fear grasping at his lust.

And when he felt his cock go limp, the libido falling, he noticed... Those blue eyes with black scleras and a conniving wink. Here to reassure him.

Arribal gulped.

At first, the mushroom tip slid easily within.

His hole welcomed it without pain, without worries. It was a mere experience when the orifice spread and gaped until the ring's shape was strained.

By the second, the girth grew, and the supple folds of that hole disappeared: stretched so thin, so wide.

And the sting in his guts. With his legs forcibly stretched and held by a giant who was using him like a mere cock-socket, Arribal grunted.

And gurgled, unable to swallow the saliva backing up in his throat.

He was split apart by that monstrous green cock.

His orifice was on fire; his guts were crushed until nothing remained. Beneath the scales, the bulge progressed and erased any traces of abs. It pushed its way up by bringing pain and suffering. And... A sense of fullness. And lust. More than what he had thought.

He was afraid yet wished for more.

He was a good Slave and was to be filled.

Until... Until a note resonated in the room, and the Dragonborn found his lips pressed against Dayn's.

"You're good?"

The question was asked, and he looked down. Lurger had stopped but was halfway inside. The tingle of pain remained, though dulled. He was full... Filled. Almost.

But he nodded.

"Good slave," praised Dayn, tapping that muzzle with the same conniving note.

Yes, he was a good slave. And that Orc filled him so much that when he was finally down, his belly had taken an almost round shape Arribal stroked and caressed in the feigned hope of pleasing his master.

But the truth was his master needed nothing but his hole.

The note echoed again, and those hulking arms moved anew.

They kept their firm grips on his hips and lifted him, relieving all the pressure within against the inner walls and his prostate. In an instant of grace, there was no more pain. Then came the sensation of emptiness.

And there... The thrust. One followed by many, a rush of pleasure and sex when those arms worked to lift Arribal up and down, leaving him no choice but to clench his hole and slow down that cock in vain. It had no purpose but to increase the pain, but he did so.

He brought pleasure to his master, to the Warchief hammering his cunted Dragonborn hole.

And he loved each second of it.

The ejaculation, the orgasm almost like an aftertaste. As he drowned in the moment:

Whether on the Orc's lap or riding that cock while his master lay on the bed.

Whether it was by that fist stretching his hole or the other slave at his side cajoling his cunt.

Sometimes, they would pause, drink, and relax in the afterglow.

However, those men were restless.

The Warchief became a slave, then a lover, then a father figure, bearing as many masks as it was deemed so.

So was the other slave, becoming a tyrant, then a voyeur, then a brother, donning those faces like wearing slacks.

Arribal felt the pull of their desires, following them willingly through whispers he could not tell.

He finally fell between them, his legs entirely numb as much as his backside.

On his left was Lurger, back to his natural height and heaving while staring at the ceiling. The candle was almost worn out, and Arribal could have sworn he heard a rooster outside.

On his right stood Dayn, almost unbothered by his drenched body, lazily stroking the Dragonborn's chest.

His inner thighs were chaffed from the friction, his cock sore... His throat, he was unsure if he could talk tomorrow without a spell. But they were no different.

"Next time, try to stay in trance for a bit longer. I had a surprise for you," teased the Fiend before he leaned on to give another kiss to that scaled body.

How could Arribal survive that deal?

---

THWACK!

The axe hit the wood at full speed, splitting it cleanly in two parts.

From the impact, the two halves flew on opposite sides in piles composed of many their equivalents. And the woodworker resumed his work, wiping the sweat from his neck.

"So... What do you want, lad?"

"Are you Arribal? The Dragoon Arribal?"

"Heh, it has been weeks since I've heard someone say that name. What can I do?"

The massive Dragonborn placed another log on the stump and raised his axe. He hefted it with a loud humpff, then lowered it.

THWACK!

Again, the halves flew in different directions.

Wearing only an open white shirt and black slacks, the Dragonborn stood in stark contrast in the village he had elected to live in: up north, mainly inhabited by humans, though with a few recent exceptions.

With his scales and sheer size, he attracted the gaze though only the foreigners were surprised by his presence.

Some, like the young lad before him: twenty years old, redhead, and already attempting to grow a beard, and failed, to look more grizzled. His chain mail was a tad rusted, and that stance showed his inexperience in combat.

"It's a great honor to meet you, Sir, My name is Johan, and I am one of your greatest fans. I mean, I am not the greatest in height or power or the most important, but I'm a fan of all you did, Si-"

"No need to sir me, you can call me Arribal."

"Someone told me there was someone here who could help me learn to fight here, with different weapons but mostly the mace. They pointed this village, telling me I was sure to find help there, but I did not expect to meet you here."

"Heh, you were pointed in the right direction. But our local weapon master isn't up and about yet. Still need a few pointers?"

Leaving the Axe stuck in the stump, the Dragonborn retrieved a flask from his belt and opened it. For a second, he stood there and inhaled the acrid scent before he took a swig. And smiled.

"What do you mean? You're the greatest warrior in Faerun! Everyone has learned of your exploits, whether with your talented kills with your sword or even the time you managed to kill Arana with a single rock thrown at her! Were you not on an excursion on the seas with the Crows, far west after they left Waterdeep behind and all your possessions to Gru-"

"I am not. I retired from adventuring. And... As you can see, I have decided to become a woodworker here."

"I did not expect that. After killing an archfiend, exploring the outer planes, and slewing a cabal of Shar priests in Luskan. What-... What made you stop?"

The Dragonborn sent another swig down his throat, then closed the flask. And put it back on the belt.

"The wisdom of friends, who were always right. So... Johan, that's right? You want to learn how to fight?"

"Yes! Of course! I was not sure I could really find anyone who could teach me here, but now you are here, I am certain I will learn a lot from you. Perhaps we should begin with swordsmanship, I know it's your specialty! Can I call you master?"

"Follow me. And never say the word Master close to the inn, you may regret it later."

With a grin, the Dragonborn stretched his arms and turned his back to the human. There, he took a few steps towards his house, where available makeshift wood weapons would be of use. Potentially some ale if his husband left for the forge.

However, as soon as he took the second step, he noticed something.

"You're with me, Johan?"

"Y- Yes! I'm coming!"

Shaken, the poor lad barely regained composure as he hightailed the Dragonborn. And never ceased to watch the opening in the back of his pants and what was inside: that scaled firm butt with the cum leaking from the visible orifice, the golden ring pierced through the swollen rim. And those words printed on the scales:

[SIZE=13pt]Happily wed[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]but open[/SIZE]