Vacillant new world orc.., p.1
Vacillant (New World Orc Book 2), page 1
VACILLANT
NEW WORLD ORC
B. L. DAWN
CONTENTS
Untitled
1. Charken
2. Jamison
3. Charken
4. Jamison
5. Charken
6. Jamison
7. Charken
8. Vallip
9. Charken
10. Vallip
11. Jamison
12. Charken
13. Vallip
14. Jamison
15. Charken
16. Vallip
17. Jamison
18. Charken
19. Jamison
20. Vallip
21. Thank You!
22. Beguiled Book 3
UNTITLED
Vacillant is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 by B. L. Dawn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the copyright owner’s written permission except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, contact: authorbldawn@gmail.com
ISBN: 978-1-954009-08-0
Published by Obscure Lunar Publishing LLC
www.bldawn.com
1
CHARKEN
While crouching behind a mound of dirt inside the Red Eyed Orc’s garrison, I stare out over the flickering lights of fire that dance over huts and the like. My warrior brothers and I wait to make our move against these vile yellow-skinned orcs. For countless rotations, investigations into other orc tribes have taken place. By far, the Red Eyed Orcs are the cruelest clan in all of Harlock.
Two rotations ago, this clan enslaved a large group of creatures. Since then, they’ve been sexually abused each day by the horde. Now, my tribe will save them. The sex slaves reside in a derelict shack at the back of their stronghold. We twelve scaled the great wooden wall of the garrison undetected. It was a way in but not out. However, we have a plan, and fortune is on our side this starsrise, for the enemy lazes around like lethargic, paunchy oafs, unaware of our intent, and we have warriors on the outside waiting to aid in our escape.
My heart gallops against my sternum, craving battle. More accurately, craving anything other than training, fucking, and more of the same. Or, more accurately, endless loneliness. No prospects of family. Constant despair. Those are the traits festering in me and all the lives of the Blue Tongue Orc Tribe.
Often, I long to be outside the confines of my tribe’s mountainous homestead, for it is a constant reminder that there are no females for me there.
I’m desperate to plant my seed inside a female. But having only a dozen females in my tribe has caused me to lose hope of ever having offspring, family… or companionship. Therefore, I busy myself. I copulate with my fellow brothers, fight who I can, and train until my muscles scream.
My mind thinks back to the days we have spent watching this clan and their brutal acts against these creatures. Their captives’ screams have plagued me since I first witnessed these misdeeds for myself. Even if I don’t acquire a female for myself, at least these sex slaves will be free from that kind of torture.
I know many things about these yellow-skinned, blond-haired, red-eyed wretches. They don’t have females in their clan. At least we have never seen one. But they multiply like weeds across the land, and we don’t know why.
Furthermore, they do not mollify their sex prisoners as we do by using orc seed to build desire inside them. One lick of blue orc come and our unwilling partners beg us for completion. They willingly bloom for our prominent, engorged members. These dolts don’t have healing saliva, either, not like blue orcs.
Waste of space… the lot of them.
Waiting for a signal from Xerk, I feel my blood pumping through my veins. I look over at Groth and whisper, “Which female will you grab?”
He cocks a brow, whispering, “Has it slipped your mind that there are also males within the hut?”
Indeed. How could I forget?
“My longing is only for females,” I scoff. “After all, they are significant—can bare orclings.”
The corners of Groth’s lips curl up around his long tusks. “Hopefully, the one with antlers. My loins jump at the sight of her.” Groth growls softly beside me. “I proclaim this truth. When this battle is underway, all who touched her will die.” Something odd flashes in his eyes. I search his features, trying to figure out what it is, but then it’s gone. “And you, Charken? Who do you wish to rescue?”
“Any will do.” I struggle with this semi-truth. “The one with horns seems hale.” I know better than to discuss the tealish, bumpy female out loud in front of my brothers—no need to bring misfortune upon myself.
If she is all that remains, I will relent and keep her, even if her appearance is ghastly. She is riddled with dry seeping bumps and nasty contusions. One would think that the Red Eyed Orcs wouldn’t plough her, but they brutalize the poor thing, nevertheless. She doesn’t deserve mistreatment, even if she is unpleasant to look upon.
Anyone else will be a boon.
My thoughts on this matter have changed from the first time I saw their unusual qualities. At first, it was challenging to wrap my cognizance around coupling with foreign females. They appear nothing like our orceresses. But after a brief period, I envision the undertaking with yearning. Discovering the act will be agreeable.
Most are attractive in their way, donning feather or gossamer wings, horns, antlers, colorful pelts, and even one who I swear has petals permanently encased in her hair—twelve creatures in all… four of those are males.
Xerk clicks his tongue, and we follow his lead, moving toward the tiny hut in the shadows. Half of my troop filters inside, but there is no space for the rest of us. A few squeaks call out into the darkness but are muffled quickly.
Captain comes out, carrying Kitten, his bonded female’s best friend. The feline looks beaten and close to death. I have no idea why they decided to torture her right before we came. It saddens me to know we may have been too late to save her.
My brothers jog from the hut, carrying the sex slaves. Finally, it’s my turn. I follow Groth inside. He snatches up a few standing forms, one male and one female.
It’s my turn, and there is only one female left. She stands with her arms outstretched, waiting for me. My heart leaps in my throat at seeing her tear-streaked face. Sprinting over, I envelop her in my embrace and take off to follow Groth outside.
Her scent elates me. Among many other unpleasant odors, there is something sweet and floral about her, making my shaft twitch with contentment.
I can’t remember a time when my cock didn’t easily engorge, but she is undoubtedly the cause of it now.
As I run through the doorway, a four-armed male falls at my feet.
He’s not an orc.
I jump over him but turn, scooping him up. He gasps from the inertia but settles when I begin to run again. Back at the mound of dirt, I’m hunkered down with my brothers once more. We wait for the rest of our warrior tribe to break through the front gates and attack the Red Eyed Orc Clan.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Impeccable planning. Yellow-skinned brutes begin to rouse, droopy-eyed and muddled, trying to blunder around and ready themselves.
A chaotic mess.
Growling low in my throat, I can hardly bear the sight of them.
A low guttural voice breaks my concentration. “Kitten needs healing. If not… she won’t make it back to the homestead.” Xerk holds the limp feline up for us to see. Rumbles of agreement roll around my brothers, and a few of us move closer to lick her with our healing saliva.
Shuffling my male and lovely female to one arm, I lean over to lick up and down Kitten’s legs. They are swollen and bloody.
The female in my hold begins to whimper, spilling soft gibberish from her mouth. I look at her and glare. The four-armed male notices and places his hands on her cheeks, speaking to her with clicks and slurred words. She calms, and I finish healing the feline the best I can.
The banging at the front gate continues. War cries fill the dimness outside the garrison, and I know my warrior brothers are close to ramming it asunder.
Feminine stimulation infuses the air, heightening my sexual longing. Kitten becomes aroused, and it lights my cock aflame with desire. I lap at her silky pelted leg while she writhes in Xerk’s hold. He appears pained, as if he, too, is trying not to think about her wanting our cocks… Aren’t we all?
Who wouldn’t want inside her tangy cunt?
For tusk’s sake, I can scent it from here, and my captain must be enjoying this more than he should because he moans while his tongue is deep inside her womb. Cream coats his face, and his large hand massages her bottom, spreading around her long tail.
His mate Frey will not be happy about this, and he is not one to hold back truths. Xerk may be a dead orc at her hands once he confesses his actions. This dismays me, for Frey is pregnant, and I do not wish her to run like many of our captive females have done over the years.
Pleasure starts to build at the base of my spine, regardless of the turmoil inside. When Xerk spills his seed at my feet, and Kitten comes on his face, it is truly a thrilling sight. She is fully healed. But frack. I have never been this close to a female when she has come
Perhaps she will visit the Great Hall and join our culture in some fine fucking. And if that is not what she wishes, I would gladly lick her core the way she likes, just to experience this again. Of course, I’d have to fuck a brother afterward, but I never minded before.
My release seeps from my cockhead, and I let my climax overtake me, allowing it to spill alongside Xerk’s seed on the ground. Captain goes pale, like he may lose his last meal, no doubt thinking of Frey now that his tongue is back inside his salivating mouth. But he holds it together well enough. Decidedly, I refuse to goad him about this. It’s neither the time nor the place to jest even though I long to.
I shake myself clean with one hand and grab Blossom once more. She looks upset, but I don’t understand why. We didn’t damage the feline. We saved her life. It isn’t our fault she got off. The four-armed male keeps staring back at the small hut I saved him from, and I long to ask him why. Did he leave something behind? As long as it isn’t a person, he’ll have to move on without its comfort.
BANG!
Splintering wood flies through the air, followed by blue warriors running through the gate. They lacerate and mar their way through the yellow muck, drenching the land with gore so thick that it’s a wonder those red eyed bastards are known for their fighting skills.
My troop runs posthaste for the gate, carrying our spoils. Something whizzes by my ear, and Haydon falls with an arrow protruding from his skull, dropping a pale-looking male and a female with long white wings. In a flash, Sarus picks up the winged female, carrying two creatures toward the gate. I shuffle my survivors to one hand and grab the pale-looking male with my free one. Interlocking my fingers to hold all three, I push my muscles to keep running while many of our warrior orcs make a path for our escape.
This new male slows me down, but I will not let it dissuade me. I run through the gate, panting, but I still have a long way to go.
“Eh!”
I snap my gaze left.
Fero, one of my brothers, snatches Blossom from me so that he now carries two females and I carry two males, but we have equal parts. Though I’m grateful for his help, anger soon takes over. He took my only female. I trudge on, sulking, and make a plan to get her back.
After traipsing through the jungle, we break the clearing and jog unceasingly until the three crescents in the sky move four units in length.
Xerk stops at a river to drink, an arrow jutting from his shoulder. Looking around, I take in who made it and who did not. Only eight of my brothers remain. Lipit, Slull, and Pikah have fallen. Each one… my sexual partner at one time or another over the past hundred years. Each one has been by my side while training and during battles countless times.
My mouth runs dry, and I let my two males slide down my side. I fling my hand toward the water, needing a timeturn to collect myself. “Go. Drink. Rest.”
Dryness scrapes across my throat. Stinging burns behind my eyes. I buckle down the emotional blather and try to calm myself. I turn and set off to rest in the darker shadows of a fliss tree. Its long, mauve, swaying branches willow over me while I keep watch. Everyone needs time to rest, and I need time to remember my brothers.
The fallen orcs have done our race a great service, but my heart aches to see them again. If I were honest, a small part of me believed we would all find a family after rescuing these females.
A pain enters my chest, and I cannot bring myself to laugh at our good fortune like the other orcs surrounding me. But I am a fool. A dreamer who needs to realize what is actual and what is a falsehood. The reality is… my inner circle is gone, and my chosen males are gone. My future plans are gone.
The rest of the surviving warriors laugh and chase after Kitten as she scurries away through the jungle, frightened by something. My brothers run off to hunt her in a game-like way while leaving the rest of the females and males looking around in confusion.
I hear a splash, jump to my feet, and run across the flat grassy land to the river, looking to see who might have fallen inside the water’s depths.
There is no one.
Bending down, I wipe the grime from my hand and drink my fill. I look up and down the waterway.
Nothing is here.
The survivors look into the water as well.
Standing, I ask, “Did someone fall in?”
They stare at me in bewilderment. So, I begin to count them. There are seven females and five males, if I include Kitten. My brows pinch together. I’ve counted them out from my spying perch outside the Red Eyed Orc’s garrison many times, and there have always been eight females and four males. The sum is the same, but the genders are off. Looking around, I try to place who is missing and who has been added. My female, Blossom, is here, antlers, horns, white feathers, red feathers, gossamer wings. Kitten ran off. I tug on my beard, unsure who could be missing.
Growling, I ask again, “Did someone fall in?”
The four-armed male steps forward, his eyes wide and unsure. His red tuft of hair blows in the wind, and his peach skin glows in the crescents’ light. “No one escaped.”
Tilting my head, I stare at him. It dawns on me that he spoke my language. Frey could not accomplish such a thing when we found her. It took her one rotation to become good at it. This fact must have slipped my mind earlier. But this male… hmm… This male just spoke to me with no problem. Something’s off.
Grunting, I respond simply to see what will happen next. “Why would anyone want to escape? We just rescued you from those brutes.”
He looks at the creatures standing around him. Most are naked, and all are malnourished, but no one is holding them here against their will. Crossing both sets of arms in front of his chiseled pecs, he sets his hazel eyes back on me. “No one fell in.”
Blossom runs over to him and grabs two of his hands, clicking and spitting unknown words his way. He listens and calms her by patting her side with one hand while caressing her face with another.
He’s a gentle male.
Anyone with ordinary intellect can witness this fact. But there’s something odd about the four-armed male. He’s clean, for the most part, well-fed, and has a loincloth covering his groin.
His hazel eyes find me again, and he sighs. “My friend wants to know what’s in store for them.” He clears his throat. “I mean us… And we’d like to know if we’re still sex slaves or if we’re being liberated. There’s no point in raising our aspirations if that’s all we are.”
Shaking my head, I run my hands around the smoothness of my skull, letting my long, braided black hair beat against my back. “I assure you that each creature here is much more than a sex slave. No one will force sex upon any of you as long as you remain under the protection of the Blue Tongue Orc Tribe.”
He lets out a deep exhale before speaking to the strange creatures. Most begin to cry. They embrace each other… embrace him. Each survivor is overly interested in this male and converses with him for numerous timeturns.
Stepping closer, I wait for him and the others to acknowledge my presence. “What’s your name?”
“Jamison Delaney. And you, steward?”
“Steward?”
“Leader,” Jamison corrects.
“I’m no steward. Nor leader.” I pound once on my chest. “Charken.”
With a nod, he accepts my name as truth and begins to speak in their foreign language again until my brothers return, collecting the beings they rescued.
Well, everyone comes back except for Xerk and Kitten. Shaking my head, I try not to contemplate my inner judgments. Xerk is my captain and has never steered us wrong. He knows what he’s doing.
Taking Blossom by the hand and Jamison, I leave the pale and creepy male behind, narrowing my eyes at Fero as I depart. That orc needs to accept that he doesn’t get two females. Fool Orc. No one gets two. I’m keeping these two survivors for myself. Blossom smells nice, and Jamison Delaney is a polyglot, speaking both orcish and whatever strangeness the other creatures speak. He is valuable.
