Overlord's Harem Part 2: Baruun the Orc

Another part to the Patreon-picked story; when "lord" William finds more trouble in his little piece of territory when the orcs view him as their chief and one of their warriors seeks a specific ritual that must be done by him.

Nitka made for a very pleasant houseguest. The little kobold took up one of the guest bedrooms (where I carefully made sure the previous tenant's booby traps were disabled). It was apparently roomier and cozier than anything she'd ever been in, to a point where she was too excited to sleep during her first night in the castle. I sent a runner to find her some finer clothes (the dwarves knew some traders who would deal with us), since the few laying around were far beyond her size. She did her duties quite eagerly, carrying messages and interpreting for her kind and tending to my needs when there was nothing to be done. I spend the next few evenings with her moaning as she rode my hardon, her soft bottom and curling tail slapping against my hips.

Then some idiot tried to sneak into my land from the Western border. A few days after I'd met Nitka, some treasure-hunting party came poking around after the rumor that my predecessor was dead, or the gold traded by my dwarven subjects, or some shit like that. Who knows? They're dead now. They thought they were sneaky by moving around a flank, with most of the orc tribe at the more obvious entrance of the Southern pass. It's more obvious from up in the tower that orcs spread themselves out, creating several smaller villages to prevent that very thing. Marcus came clanking back into the throne room to report their victory.

"LORD WILLIAM! THE ORC SAVAGES HAVE SLAIN ANOTHER PARTY OF ADVENTURERS! SOME WERE WOUNDED, BUT NONE KILLED!"

"I see. The adventurers?"

"OH NO, MY LORD! THE ADVENTURERS ARE VERY DEAD! ONLY THE BARBARIC ORCS HAD WOUNDED!"

"Ah. Good. Marcus, could you stop calling them savages, please?"

"WHY WOULD THAT BE, M'LORD?"

"One followed you home." Marcus' skull spins all the way around on his spine with a rusty old creak. There was a scarred orc woman behind him, somewhere in her adulthood but the exact age unclear. She has her arms folded, which are as thick as hams and swollen with muscles. Her skin is a muddy shade of green, dark like swamp algae and dotted with scars and tattoos that tended to accumulate on the adults. Two large handaxes are on her hips, and a long, jagged, curving sword across her back. Most of her clothing is assorted bits of metal and leather straps, as if orcs had a scarcity of metal and fabric but an abundance of belts. A skull of some beast is mounted like a belt buckle at the peak of a loose loincloth, centered between broad hips and two thighs that could break open a barrel. Two studded, scratched up pieces of metal were strapped tightly to the front of her full bosom, clearly to protect her heart more than any pretense of comfort. She had full lips that bore thick, sharp tusks when they moved in the right direction. Three gold studs were punched into one of her short but pointed ears, and one more in her slightly raised but stubby nose. The mountain of a woman is topped off by shaggy, coal-black hair tied back in a ponytail, and signs of the rest of her hair being shaved off at the sides.

Marcus' reversed skull nods backwards. "YES, LORD WILLIAM! SHE SAID HAD BUSINESS!"

I sigh and gesture him away. "Thank you, Marcus. Your loyalty is only outdone by your stupidity. Go see that the wounded have what they need." Marcus' skull twisted back into place before he saluted and stomped off again.

"They'll refuse," the orcess finally responds in a soft but rough voice. "They will never show weakness to the walking bone."

I raise my eyebrows at her, the hood down again today. "Is that what they call him? I kind of like it."

"It's not a compliment," she grunts.

"Oh, I didn't think it was." We share a smile, even if hers it a lot more lethal-looking than mine. "So what's your business? I don't want to waste your time, and you definitely don't want to waste mine."

She raises a fist, then thumps it twice on her breast. It's a kind of salute they do, but I don't know if the chesty orc knows how much that bounces her tits around. Then again, if I were leading the orcs (which, you know, I am), I'd try to encourage that kind of behavior too.

"Baruun the slayer, chief," she introduces in her smoky voice. I really do lose track of all my titles sometimes, but I'd apparently earned the title when the local chief challenged me for authority over the land. He was ashes before he'd properly raised his sword. "I must ask for my tarra midur."

I hesitate as she looks at me expectantly. "Baruun... I'm not sure if you noticed, but I'm not an orc..."

"You are, chief," she cut off. Bold, but polite for orcs.

"I am?" I ask expectantly.

"You hold the rank of leadership. Orcs are not made by blood but by deeds and rites," she goes on. "Even our newborns are not true orcs until they have been properly initiated."

"Interesting." I'll remember to add it to my resume, but decide quipping right now isn't going to get me anywhere. "Well my point is, I was not raised by orcs. I am not sure what a midur is."

"Tarra midur," she corrects me again. Much more vocal than Nitka. "The war brand that marks my fifty avenging deaths for the clan. It must be granted by the chief himself."

Ah. So their body mutilation rituals. No one's quite sure which land or god created the orcs, but they are clearly invested in fighting and pain as a part of their overall culture. I wave a hand, floating a quill and scrap of paper in front of her. "Shouldn't be a problem. Can you draw it out for me? I can have you in and out in no time."

Baruun seems puzzled by the display of magic, but she does as I ask. She ends up handing me the page with a few thick lines that seemed to slash through a rectangle. Easy enough. "And where does this go? Just wherever I can find the space?"

"By my vaoul, my chief." She catched onto my blank stare quicker this time and raises her big, booted foot onto the arm of my throne, lifting her loincloth. There's a pair of small scars, wave-like lines just beside her green and pink womanhood. Its placement near my chest lets me smell the aroma of fresh sweat and the outdoors radiating off of her thick, slightly opened labia and defined abs.

"I see... very clearly. And will a mark do? Like a tatoo?" I could easily just give her a stamp of the pattern with a few seconds of magic. She shakes her head.

"Only scar. By the chief's hand."

I guess asking Marcus to do it with a branding iron is out of the question, but the proposition is interesting. At least she's showing some loyalty. I had to blast a few orcs who voiced a challenge the first few months I was in charge, so the respect was a welcome change.

"Very well. Not as quick as I'd hoped, but let's get you comfortable." I escort her a short way to one of the open guest rooms. I can only assume the last owner was the mad type that welcomed adventurers to stay the night and sent in magic, assassins, gas in the vents, and that sort of thing, because he has a lot of empty rooms. I have her lay on the bed and strip down, wearing nothing but her various studs and piercings. I find one more in a thick gold one ending in a dull hook that's pierced through one of her dark green nipples. She spreads her legs as I pull a seat in front of her, rubbing my fingers together a moment until they warm up. I focus the heat into a red glow and start to carefully trace my finger along her thick flesh. The skin itself is soft, but even her inner thighs hold more muscle pushing back at me than I have anywhere on my body.

She hisses softly as her flesh sizzled, but I smell her musky pussy more than anything else. It’s slow going to get anything deep enough since her skin is thicker and tougher than I expected.I feel her twitch and wince now and then; better than I would deal with it, but clearly not something comfortable. She has his stern but vulnerable expression on her thick features that makes me offer her a little distraction, at least.

"So fifty kills for my clan? That must be a lot."

"It took time. And many battles," Baruun seems to agree. "I forced my way to the front lines to throw myself into my enemies."

"I see. And what did you atone for with these kills?" She hesitates. "You say it was to avenge someone. What happened to them."

Her hand reaches down and rubs her leg muscle a few inches from where I'm working. Her thick, short fingernails rub over the wavy lines I saw first. "Husband. And child. I was not there to protect them from an attack."

"Can't be helped," I try to assure her. "All the strength in the world won't help if you're not where you need to be, and nobody will tell you where that is."

Her brawny body lifts and droops slightly as she breathes a deep sigh. "I need to be there for my clan," she insists, but it sounds like it might have helped a bit. "With these kills, I have proven myself worthy of forgiveness. I am a proper woman again."

"Really? With no dishonor intended, you looked like quite the woman before I heard about any of this."

"The waves, they show my unreliability."

"Sounds a bit harsh to do that to you."

"I asked for them. Even with my redemption, I don't know if a mate will have me again."

I pause to cool down my fingers a little and let her have a moment's rest. "How long did you say you had these?"

"Twenty moons. Two winters," she explained.

"And you're telling me that this brand left you un-matable for two years?" She bites her lip, which makes me wince just from seeing it with those sharp teeth, but she nods. "Poor thing."

"I was unworthy," she insists, but I rub a hand over her crotch. She gasps as I feel her warm, slightly loose pussy lips, brushing them gently with my fingertips. Her various muscles tense and twitch anxiously, but she stays perfectly still.

"I wouldn't think so. You seem loyal and honorable. I could stand to see more orcs like you, Baruun."

"You honor me, chief," she says, but it comes out in a quick, held breath rather than the firm and polite tone she probably intended.

"My pleasure," I assure her. I rub my fingers to indicate I'm ready to move on, but I keep my other hand gently rubbing over her privates. Her breathing grows more deep and intense, and she never protests or whines. If anything, she spreads her legs wider as if to invite me in. It makes her lips part a bit further as her thick leg muscles slightly pull at the surrounding flesh. For all the magic I have, seeing her so willingly vulnerable and submissive makes me stop to readjust my branding finger. It feels like petting a tiger and realizing that it purrs.

I spread her lips with my fingertips and see her big round breasts puff up higher and larger as she breathes deeper. I venture inside with two fingers, and a harsh, husky grunt comes from her a moment later. I hesitate, but she whispers back "Keep going." She's a bit larger inside than I expected from a human, and exceedingly warm. Thick, wet juices offset the heat, and given how thick her hide is, it's hard to think the fire in my fingertips is to blame. Then again, when I lift my fingers from one of the slash marks, she gives this intense, labored breathing that I can't help but consider sexual. It's as if she gains as much arousal from the brand as the fingering, or that they're part of the same act to her: all a part of reclaiming and celebrating her sexuality.

By the time I'm done with the brand, Baruun is sweating and giving off this sort of grateful, labored breathing, as if she proudly just finished running a marathon (she was certainly built like she could, anyway). I snap my fingers to dismiss the heat, meeting her eyes from beyond her mountainous breasts. "You did very well, Baruun," I praise her gently, resting a thumb just next to her singed flesh as a reminder while my fingers still pump rhythmically inside of her. "Very strong, and very brave."

"Thank you, chief," she pants, a hand brushing over her breast before she pulls it back with a guilty expression on her face.

"You're proud of your deeds," I point out to her. "That's good, isn't it?"

"Our tasks are for the tribe," she says, eyes fluttering as I keep teasing her clit. It's hard enough that I could take her pulse on it if I wanted to. "Not for ourselves."

"Well it pleases your chief to see you enjoy yourself," I state calmly, easing my fingers out of her as I admire her powerful but feminine frame. I sit up to remove my robe and slide down my pants, mounting the bigger woman. "And you serve your chief so dutifully, I think you deserve some reward."

Her eyes light up as I slide inside of her. She's looser than expected, as I mentioned, but it's easy to maneuver inside her and rub directly against her clit. Her body vibrates under me with her deep groan. I find her a bit too tall to kiss easily; I hold it deep enough inside her to kiss her full lips, but more often I have to settle for groping and sucking on her big pierced tits. Her swollen nipples are delightfully sensitive, apparently the orcish toughness not universal when it comes to their sex organs. She has this look of her mind being blown when I pinch and pull on her jugs and the piercing golden hook, the dense orbs stretching out just slightly from the pressure put on her tender tips. It makes her grip my arms in her calloused hands, forcing me to hold her this way as she humps harder back against me. My entire body bounces from her thrusts, a lazy wizard not exactly built to mate with a 200+ pound she-orc.

"Seed me, chief," she huffs in a low, husky voice. "Give me strong heirs. Strong sons and mighty daughters all..."

"Earn it," I mutter to her, not so much a power play as it seems to be what she wants to hear. She's craving a strong mate after her years of abstinence, and I move to match her thrusts as she grunts and flexes like she's working every muscle in her body to fuck me harder. I'm balls deep into the big woman when she feels me cum, my fingers digging into her breasts a bit harder. My moan comes right before her high-pitched wail and a gush of her own juices, mixing with mine as she floods her inner walls. She moves like she's in an earthquake, and my arms ache from how hard she squeezes them. That's quickly replaced by an overall crushing sensation as she grabs my back and pulls me into a bearhug, forcing me to keep my dick inside her and my face buried between her breasts like two firm, sweaty pillows.

It's either another testament to orc stamina, or just two years of buildup, but it feels like she orgasms for most of an entire minute. I remember hearing from a drunk farmer that pig orgasms last for half an hour, and the comparison has been made between the beasts and orcs before. I don't quite have the brain cells in order to make the comparison at the time, but she cools down eventually as her thick fingers run through my hair.

"Oh how I missed that," she coos in her chest-rumbling voice, hearing each word vibrate out from behind her breasts.

"Glad to help," I pant, not minding the mild aches and bruising I received in the process. I give some light kisses against her breasts in the afterglow, just beneath some tribal tattoo that followed the curve of her mammary. "Something you'd consider doing again?"

"As my chief commands," Baruun vows dutifully, even while my manhood is stewing in her cum.

"Not because I command it. Do you enjoy it?" This seems to surprise her, but she nods after a second's thought. "Good. Because so did I, and I have a proposition for you."

Baruun moving in is a bit more of a to-do than Nitka was. She has a lot more weapons, trophies (mostly teeth and horns of things), animal skins, and other possessions to bring into the tower. I let her keep the room where we slept together, and she vowed on her life to act as my resident representative to the orcs. When I introduced her to Nitka, Baruun scoffed and dismissed her. Clearly not a threat to her or her mate, I guess.

"You've taken another mate?" Nitka asked me with a puzzled look.

"Something like that. Is that a problem?" I could get another if I had to, but I didn't want Nitka taking a job that would make her upset.

The kobold just shook her cute little head. "No. I'm just surprised you didn't have several wives already." She trots off as I piece together that kobolds are polygamist, and Baruun doesn't seem to care as long as she serves her chief. Good to know.

The Overlord's Harem Pt 1: Kobolds

Ongoing story from the Patreon, picked by the voters. A powerful mage takes over an evil overlord's tower as his own place, but finds himself managing the problems that come from having hordes of orcs, goblins, kobolds, dwarves and such beneath you. Got chapters up for orcs and goblins on the Patreon already.

You would think being an dark lord would be easy. You only hear of these overlord types standing ominously behind their armies and sitting contemplatively on their thrones for days on end. Maybe I'm the wrong species for it or something because I need to use the fucking bathroom. I need to read a book rather than just stare out the window cursing my enemies. It's not like I need much practice in wielding black magic either; I was kind of born with it. My old wizarding teacher said I was a prodigy, right before I turned his cat into a giant wolf. I was 10 and bored. We all do stupid shit at that age.

Like the magic, being a dark lord just came about all by itself. Some mad mage starts shit with me and learns that I'm naturally gifted at blowing people up with my fingertips. It leaves me with a tower full of magic tomes full of crazy ideas for me to try out, and a lot of monstrous locals living in the area. The place was considered inhospitable by humans, and I can't just have them trying to knock over my tower every damn morning. One at a time, I fixed the problems in the area.

The kobolds consider me the king of the land, and have vowed to serve me. The goblins took one look at me and dropped to their knees, begging me not to kill them. The orcs were a bit more uppity, but one honor duel and one vaporized chief made them "blood-bound" to serve as my army. The dwarves, the trolls, the dark elves beneath the ground... even the dead of this land obey me, with a proper arcane push in the right direction. When you amass that kind of power, people see you as a dark overlord. It's just how it goes, and frankly, that suits me fine.

It's the middle management that's the worst of it. By now, I've learned that a hands-off overlord just has everything fall apart beneath him. For a while, things went great with my whole army of doom. I let them do their own thing, but they always answered to me and did what I asked. But people are irregular. The few skeletons I had running my castle were glorified machines, but I learned that things go wrong when you bring people into them. Someone had to answer when things went wrong.

I got up from my bed and gave a lazy whistle. It was all it took for the servants to hear me.

"LORD WILLIAM!" A skeleton burst into the room, his voice as loud and fearless as thunder. He stood seven feet tall, and was clad in clunky steel armor with a broadsword at his side. He hit his skull on the doorframe as always.

"Marcus, bring me a kobold," I order casually. I pull on the usual dark robe over my comfortable shorts and shirt.

"AT ONCE, SIR!" Marcus kneels briefly and turns to the door, but stops in mid-step. His skull spins around on his spine to face me. "ER... WHICH KOBOLD, SIR? THERE ARE LOTS OF THEM."

I shrug. "Someone important, but not their leader. One who knows what they're doing, and knows common speech." I think about when I last saw the kobolds in person, and their surprisingly attractive women. "A female. And make sure she's..." Don't say cute. Don't say cute. Marcus can't keep his mouth shut, and dark lords don't say cute. "...comely."

"YOUR WILL IS LAW, SIR!" Marcus rushes back out with more clanking of metal and a clunk of his skull on the stone.

He meets me with his catch in the throne room, where I'm waiting patiently in the hooded robe (it's warm out today, so I leave the hood down). There's a wide-eyed female kobold tucked under his arm like a football, facing the wrong direction so that her smooth-scaled butt is poking out at me, her still tail up in the air. It's hard to complain at first; kobolds are generally slender, scaly things, but their women tend to be smoother and significantly curvier around their hips than you'd expect. An almost silky look rather than the jagged scales of their males.

"Set her down, Mark. Carefully. Then you can leave us." The bulky skeleton twirled her around upright and set her down on her feet. He snapped a salute and tromped his way out of the room.

The kobold he set in front of me looked up at me. My throne's not one of those really high ones, it's just that kobolds come in about 3 feet tall and weight about as much as a small dog. They are, incidentally, famously compared to a mix of crocodile and dog. She has a distinct snout and wide, almond-shaped eyes. She wears a loincloth made of some long rag wrapped around her hips, but it mostly just covers her crotch since her tail pokes out from under it, exposing her bubbly ass whenever she turns too far. Her top is similarly amusing, as it's entirely made of a copper chainmail. Her breasts push it out a bit, and little purple nipples poke through the rings at times. She has large, stubby claws that tap on the stone when she walks, mostly used for digging. Her smooth scales are a shade of ocean blue and some stubby horns line the tops of her floppy, backswept ears. And before you ask, I know. Between the breasts and the ears, researchers have debated to no end whether a kobold is a mammal or a reptile.

She looks absolutely unsure what to do with herself. She fiddled her claws together, making this tiny tapping noise to fit her tiny body. She's pretty adorable, frankly. Maybe I've been in this tower too long...

"Did you call him Mark?" She actually speaks up first, and I look up at her. "The skeleton. He's named Mark?"

"Marcus," I say with a nod. "We're on a first name basis. Also he doesn't remember his last name."

"Ohhh. Was he a human?"

"I didn't bring you here to ask about my skeleton," I reply grimly. She shuts up and stiffens up. This involves whipping her tail down to the ground like a third leg, which makes her ass wiggle in a way that's visible from the front. "What happened to the honey?"

"Er... excuse me? Um, excuse me, your highness!" she corrects, clearly overwhelmed. The kobolds explained that they have some kind of supposed bond with the land, so whoever owns it, effectively owns them.

"Every morning, there's honey in my tea. Today there wasn't. The skeletons tell me that the kobolds are in charge of the honey because bees don't attack you. So what happened to the honey?" The way she stares at me, she can't decide whether she's relieved, confused, or extra shocked. “Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. What’s your name?”

“Nitka, your highness,” she replies. It sounds like there’s a lot of tongue work involved so it comes out like a yip. I’d have thought it was a noise if she hadn’t used it in a sentence.

“Nik...” I start. I see her squirm like she wants to correct me and I sigh. “Nitkat.” Close enough. “What do you do in your village?”

“I’m a fetcher. I’m one of the quickest runners, so I bring messages and tools between the workers.” It doesn’t sound like the most important job, but practical. She’s educated enough to know common though, so maybe it’s sort of a cushy job she was given.

“Then if you carry news, you should know what’s wrong with the honey gathering, right?” Seriously that threw off my entire breakfast today.

She gives me that weird look again as she tilts her head to one side. “It’s the season change. We spare the insects to let them spawn and replenish.” She giggles rather cutely as she smiles, her muzzle surprisingly flexible and expressive. “It wouldn’t do to eat all the bugs, after all.”

“...so you don’t have the honey because you’re not eating the bugs.”

“That’s right. Oh, that’s right, your highness.”

I just sigh. “Can you get the honey without eating the bees?”

You could see her wrack her brain on that one. “Well, yes. I suppose.”

“Nitka, I have a very big job for you, and it's very important. I want you to arrange it so that the kobolds gather honey while still doing whatever they do with the bees for the season. They won't be able to sting you because of your scales, right? So there's no harm done."

Nitka's eyes go wide as if "Well don't do that thing" was a genius of an idea. "Y-yes, sir! Lord!"

I wave a hand at her to slow down. "Nitka, the lord thing is getting old fast. Don't worry about it. Sir is fine, if you need to. But Nitka, come here." She trots up to the throne, her tail wiggling with that round bottom of hers. "Can I trust you to make this happen?"

The kobold nods rapidly. "Yes, sir!" she says with a bit more confidence and a big smile. It's probably the biggest duty someone's given her yet.

"Good. Once you get that going, come see me again. And bring your belongings."

"Oh... yes, sir, but can I ask Why?" she asks in her squeaky little voice.

"It's become very apparent to me that I'm a bit out of touch with some of my... residents." The whole "kingdom" thing just sort of fell into my lap, and I haven't renamed the land from Grimhold since the last sorcerer that lived here. "I want you to move into my tower as my assistant for dealing with the kobolds. I've got plenty of rooms, so just pick one to sleep in. Ask Marcus if you need anything carried... or Gustav, if it's fragile. He's the little skeleton. ...Nitka, are you alright?"

The kobold was smiling so hard that she was shedding big, runny tears down her cheeks and snout. "Sir, I've never been given such a gift. I can't thank you enough!" She sniffles and her round, oversized nostrils flare. It's just a roof and a vague job, but apparently that's a lot to the little runner. Check my privelage, right?

"It's nothing, really. I'm just giving you new duties..." I start but she shakes her head.

"No, thank you, sir! Kobolds cannot take a gift without repayment in kind. There must be something I could provide for you!" She pulls off her light chainmail shirt, exposing her perky little tits as she offers it to me. I definitely don't have use for armor, and anything I took from her would just clutter up the place. So I decide to speed things up and bring out a spell I've used in the past. It's nothing as advanced as mind control; it's a basic, quick mind link, literally sharing my thoughts with the target. I've used it to intimidate bigger, non-magical men and creatures away by showing them the things I can do and was thinking of doing to them, but it's rather the opposite with Nitka. Her ears wiggle in a way that I think is like a kobold's blushing.

"Oh... so humans do that too," she smiles, flashing her dull little teeth.

"It's something fun we do, yes," I reply cooly, hoping that the robe covers up any anxious erections. She approaches the throne and I part the robe, letting her curious little claws pull down my pants. She lets out this curious little purring noise when she sets her eyes on my hardon, sniffing softly and flicking out a tongue. It wasn't forked like I'd expected, just smooth and long enough to fill her snout. She opens her mouth enough to flick it out again, this time licking over my balls. It send a shiver up my spine, and I know I've definitely been alone up in this tower for too long.

She takes her time, this time out of playfulness rather than fear. She ends up parting her jaws just enough to slip me inside her slick, wet mouth, softly fondling my package between her claws. I moan and lay back, rubbing my hand between her ears as she gives off more cute little squeals and purrs, making her mouth vibrate around me. As her mouth and hands get involved, it becomes clear that there's not really anything especially sharp on a kobold. The studs on her ears, her claws, and even her teeth are hard, but dull. Better suited for digging and durability than slashing and biting. She even seems aware of this as she keeps rolling her tongue to cradle and slither around my shaft, shielding it from her teeth with all that saliva and abundance of tongue.

When she's been sucking for a few minutes, I tug back on her ears. They twitch in my grip and she opens her mouth wide, dripping hungrily with her drool. "You enjoy the taste of men?" I pry, and her ears wiggle once more in my grip and she nods sheepishly, as if talking to me is more difficult than sucking me off. "Well, as a royal attendent, perhaps you'd like some time in the royal bedchambers. You should know where they are if you're to be... attending me."

We're quickly back in the master bedroom. It's a short trip through the halls, and I feel like a tool when I use the secret passage behind the throne. I help her out of her loincloth, despite clearly not needing the assistance. It's just an excuse to grab the plump butt underneath her tial. It's incredibly soft, and her entire skin feels like high-quality leather; firm but more oily and smooth than expected. Her tail lifts and her hips push into my hands, inviting more attention as she moans before she cuts into these little yips. I lift her little body easily onto the bed, and the smooth-scaled monstergirl lifts up her tail invitingly as she lays on all fours. One thing I can verify for all those arguing scholars: her pussy looks perfectly, temptingly mammalian to me. The flesh had a gentle turn from blue to pink just around her labia, and much like her mouth, it's too wet to contain itself. It's good to know that she was as excited for this as I was.

I finish undressing and take her by her big round hips and pull myself into her. The first time I thrust, she's incredibly tight. I can't get half inside her when I seem to meet resistance and get a startled "Eep!" out of her. I instantly ease up, but when I press in a slower, second push, I find it's significantly deeper and smoother. By four, I'm in balls deep, and she's giving long, throaty moans as her claws dig into the sheets to give me some ample resistance to the penetration. Her opening seems very adaptable to take all sizes. I'm not sure if that means kobolds are varied in the size of their manhoods, or if kobolds are somehow evolved for interspecies sex. Either way, her soft insides are soon in a near perfect mold for my cock, and I've never had anyone so perfectly tight and curvy. I end up gripping her tail for extra leverage, and I push in deep enough that she's wailing and drooling over the bedsheets. It turns into a pleased, high-pitched barking noise when she starts to move to match my rhythm.

"Soooo big, sir," Nitka coos between her horny little yips. "So hard!" I rub a hand down her tail and over her back. I swear her twitchy ears tucked back just for me to grab onto and pull. She gave long, horny "AHHHNN!" noises as I fit her perfect cocksleeve of a hole.

"You're willing to serve your king?" I grunt, easing up on her ears a bit to make sure she hears. She tries to nod, but my tight grop on them makes it hard to move her head. Her eyes roll back to try to look at me.

"Yes, sir!" she yelps, and I feel her body twitch as a quick gush of her cum washes over me. Her hole still remains tensed and tight, so it just lubricates the already smooth and snug experience as her juices run down my balls. "Harder! Please, harder!" she begs me breathlessly before breaking into a rapid, shrill plea. "So big so hard can't take iiiiiit! Fuck me right through, master! Drill me deep!" I'm curious who exactly taught her to speak common with language like that, but I can't say I don't like it. I give her a few more grunting thrusts before I finish inside her, and finish hard. It must trigger something in her because I'm still squirting when she returns the favor double. A second orgasm shoots out of her as her pussy widens, emitting a thick and clear fluid over my lap and legs. The flexibility of kobold pussy is the least of my concerns in our afterglow, and I move my grip from her ears to her round little tits. She pants as her tongue rolls out of her long jaws, head rolling until it hangs like she's been fucked silly.

I stay inside her as we both rest, flopping to my side in the messy bed and catching our breaths together. A warm body beside me feels great, and I'm not ready to give it up easily. I gently ease her off of me at last and she flops like a rag doll, still panting and drooling over the bed as she quivers with aftershocks.

"Never had a lover that big, huh?" I lay with my semi-hard cock against her buttocks. I have to smile when I stroke between her ears and she shivers like she might cum again just from that.

"Never a lover," she says as her body comes back under her control, looking back at me over her shoulder. "I never... inside me."

I chuckle and pet her some more, her ears folding down submissively as she accepts the praise. "Well you handled yourself like an expert. I hope we can have this kind of free time in your new position."

The ears wiggle/blush again, and she nods. "Yes... that would be wonderful..." She squirms a bit, sheepishly starting to push herself back up. "I um... suppose I should get to your duties and see about the honey..."

I hold her back, catching her by a breast and easily hugging her back against my bigger body. "There's no hurry. Take your time," I insist, kissing her on the ear. She giggles and her tail slithers around between my legs in a surprisingly exciting sensation.

"As you wish, master, sir."

I sigh as I hold her closer than anyone I've had in what must have been a year. "Since you'll be working so intimately with me... you can call me William. My name is William Peach."

"If I may..."

"Stop it. You may speak freely around me. I'm not going to get anything done with a secretary that doesn't speak to me."

"Ah." The bashful Nitka takes a moment to muster her courage. "It's not a very overlordly name."

"And that's why they call me master instead. Lord William if they're..."

There's a booming pounding at the door. "LORD WILLIAM! YOUR LUNCH HAS BEEN PREPARED!"

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Perhaps you can join me for lunch. The cook always makes too much. Have you ever tried beef?"

"Mostly mole, sir. Elk on special occasions."

I shake my head. "Well, I'm sure you'll enjoy it more than mole. And you've got to keep that soft hips full of meat, after all," I say with a harmless smack at her bottom, just beneath the tail.

"I doubt it will be tastier than my master's meat," Nitka grins, licking her lips as she sits up on that naked, plump booty of hers. I crack a big smile at that, which she shares with a flash of her little fangs. There's something I'd taught myself during my unintentional reign, and I really took it to heart that day. I've learned that when you rule over a massive army, you come to learn that it's the little things. Slaughtering an invading horde is all well and good, but you never stop appreciating a good cup of coffee or a hearty sandwich when you're really hungry. Or, rhetorically speaking, vigorously fucking a horny kobold cutie.