A Tale of the Wars - A Day in the Life - The Major (c) KNW 2001
Dofsukel (an Orc maiden) hated evenings. While the other Orc women got their gear ready for the morning and kept their troops in line, she had to spend it keeping her immediate superior, Lt Colonel Zokkul happy. An unpleasant experience was in store, as usual.
A year before, when she was a lieutenant, Dofsukel had lead her platoon into a very well planned ambush and nearly lost her entire command to Elven traps and arrows. She survived, but three quarters of her troops were lost. It was a disaster, but it shocked General Ploknag into finally taking the Elven threat seriously. However, such actions would have called for disciplinary action on Zokkul's part, and Dofsukel was expecting to lose a chevron and be flogged by the arrogant LtC but he had other plans in mind.
The trial never happened.
Zokkul spun Ploknag some story about a desperate battle and the numerous Elven casualties that resulted in Dofsukel being promoted to Major. Quite a step for a shaky young female. Had she known what was in store for her, she would have gladly accepted the flogging and demotion.
But here she was, grudgingly heading for Zokkul's tent. Her troops had watched her enter and leave almost every night, but she had never smiled or looked the least bit enthusiastic about it. Zokkul was a wretched pile of troll-shit, and every grunt Ploknag's army knew it, they also knew he was poking a hot, young piece of Orc every evening and saw that as a definite reason to advance in rank.
She arrived in off-duty dress, a sack-cloth tunic and a pair of black leather breeches she'd had made by the head of the Engineer's unit under Ploknag. Her bare feet enjoyed the grass during the walk, even if the rest of her didn't. She never bothered to secure her thick mane of black hair since Zokkul's groping hands never left her hips, the pattern of scars where his nails had dug into her flesh could attest to that.
Zokkul was there, waiting as usual. He was shaving his sloping forehead when she arrived and took his time getting done, the whole time making poor attempts at small talk as she did her best to look dejected. The oaken desk had been pillaged from a tiny outpost they'd overrun before she was a Major, before she came to hate life. It was a stout, sturdy thing that seemed to be indestructible, and was one of Zokkul's two prized possessions; the other being the body of Major Dofsukel-uk-Buxca, if not her mind.
"Lookin' good, Dof," he said, washing the shaving foam from his now bald dome, "ya know, the least ya could do is pretend ya loik it."
"Oi don't know anyone who'd enjoy bein' near you." Her voice was cold, she just wanted this to be over with.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yew loik it, odderwise yew wouldn't be 'ere every night, eh?" His joke held no humor and Dofsukel fumed at his attitude. She pulled her breaches and tunic off, hanging them on Zokkul's armour rack, and made her way to the desk. With ritual fashion, she leaned over and rested her elbows on the top of the old desk and gave a 'harumph' of disgust.
Zokkul peeled his breaches off and reached for a small tub of lard. He used a large glob to coat the end of his penis, stroking it a few times to both insure good coverage and to bring him to full attention. He bounced it off Dofsukel's broad backside a couple times and enjoyed a throaty chuckle.
Dofsukel braced herself for the invasion by gripping the opposite edge of the desk. She felt Zokkul's cockhead prod her buttocks a couple times then push against her asshole. She pushed back, and Zokkul's member slid in needing only a small amount of force to penetrate completely.
He took her hips in his hands and pulled back slowly. He always did it this way, never varying the routine, never showing the slightest bit of imagination. She was prepared for the hard thrust, and it still hurt every time he did it. She grunted and grimaced while Zokkul's ugly mug was reflected back thanks to the mirror he used to shave with.
He loved the way her ass felt against him. He'd paid good coin to have a special tattoo done on the inside of her asscheeks, a tattoo that kept her tight as the first time he rode her, the night after he saved her from a flogging. The tattoo had humiliated her almost as much as having it done out in the yard, in front of everyone. But all tattoos were done in the yard, and one could always hear a young tattoo-maker and his customer testing anti-conception tattoos at least once a day. The testing method was what attracted talented males into the trade.
Zokkul also loved the way her face contorted with every ramming thrust of his magnificent member, and the way he could see his reflection behind hers reminded him of the power he held over her.
Dofsukel did her best to keep her mind off the pain, keeping her temper under control. She'd fought him off once, a week after the first time he sodomized her, and was rewarded with a thundering blow from his huge right fist. She awoke in a wooden construct, trussed up and unable to move, in abject pain. The bastard had the carpenters rig up a frame whereby Zokkul could watch as some captured horses took advantage of her tight, hot Orcish pussy. The ordeal lasted the entire night and left her stretched and sore. The pain went away, but five horses had stretched her once tight hole out so much that it never returned to normal, and no Orc in the unit would bother to bed her anymore.
She opened her eyes to see Zokkul glaring back at her. His cock rammed into her again and again, over and over, and he used his whole body to force himself into her backdoor. Today, the routine changed. Zokkul reached forward and grabbed a handful of her hair, then yanked back, pulling her head up and forcing a squeal of pain from her. She tightened up accordingly and Zokkul drilled her even harder, if he kept her in pain this would be so much more fun.
Dofsukel reached back and grabbed his wrist, trying to free her locks from his heavy hand while forgetting to keep relaxed. The pain came from two places at once, and he laughed as he pounded her into the edge of the desk with his rock hard penis. He seemed to grow even more with this assault, and she could feel him running into the tender sphincter at the upper end of her rectum, bruising her insides and threatening to push deeper into her yet.
"Stop foightin', bitch, or it'll only get worse!" he growled at her and tugged at her hair some more. He was rewarded by feeling her tighten again and by her cries of pain. "Oi paid good gold to have ol' Dulgus give me a few more inches, and I wanna make sure you loik 'em!"
She was right, he was larger. She had been relaxed when it started, and had also relieved herself prior to visiting, and hadn't noticed then. But now she knew. His meat stabbed into her, making her poor behind spasm in pain, and she fought even harder against him.
The only good thing about the whole ordeal was that it ended sooner than usual. His increase in size and her struggle brought him to climax in half the time, and she felt him firing jets of hot seed into her bowels. He took in the sensation until he was satisfied and let go of her hair, softly laughing in triumph.
Dofsukel's body ached from being driven into the desk, and from being driven from behind; she was unsteady as she went to retrieve her clothing.
A swift, hard spank almost made her lose her footing, and the high-pitched shriek she responded with brought audible laughter from outside the tent. She fumed as she pulled her breaches and tunic back on, barely containing her feelings. It would do no good to lose her temper while in Zokkul's tent; he could easily overpower her and do whatever he wanted.
She promptly exited the bastard's canvas tent and tried to look somewhat dignified as she made the long trek back to her own. Catcalls and obscene comments floated over from the male infantry, and had they been under her command, she could have had them all flogged. But since they were Zokkul's own company, she would have to bottle her feelings up and plod on. Her ass hurt, and she couldn't help but walk funny, something that added to the barrage of insults.
When she made it back, she washed herself in the company's shower, but no matter how hard she scrubbed, she simply couldn't feel clean.
- - - - - (This story does not take place in the world of warcraft universe nor the world of warcraft online game.)
The next day, the unit received orders to advance on a small Human town. Scouts returned with news of a prepared army lying in wait. Ploknag decided against a simple raid, and decided to face the Humans with his entire army.
Messages were sent under flags of truce, and the two forces would meet on a plain south of the town. The rules of war were agreed to, something only a Ploknag would agree to, being a stickler for details, and felt the Humans needed to see that the Orcs could front as 'civilized' a face as their enemies could.
And so, the two armies massed and prepared to do combat south of the small town of Sutton's Corners, a crossroads that were a vital part of the land routes to Ajax, a mining city in the cold north, Onyx, a city to the west, and Djezzerak, a Dwarven outpost in the Krokmont Mountains. Such a move would cut the Dwarves off from the Empire's trade caravans, isolate the frigid city of Ajax, and leave Onyx open to attack. Ploknag had to make sure it was a fair, even fight, so the Humans would learn just how organized the Orcs had become.
By the end of the day, the Orc strategy was prepared. Ploknag would assemble his army with his strongest troops on the flanks, weaker troops and archers in the center. He could draw the Human cavalry into the center, then attack their flanks, losing only the weakest part of his army, and then make a full charge at the regular infantry. He didn't like the idea of having to accept casualties.
Zokkul's command sat smack dab in the center of the army. He assumed he'd been placed there because his was the strongest, his arrogance not seeing the wisdom of Ploknag's plan. He didn't like having to put up with a hundred Hobgoblins with crossbows, but that was what he got. The units to his right and left received longbows, but he assumed that was because they were afraid of coming to blows. He re-read the orders to make sure the old goat didn't make any mistakes, and set himself to bed. He'd have a hard day ahead of him and would need to prepare himself for battle.
- - - - -
Dofsukel marched to Zokkul's tent in full battle dress. Her chain mail was clean, her iron mask had new paint applied, her legs were bare except for the steel-toed boots she looted from a Dwarven caravan a season ago; they also had metal soles, something she found out when her company ran into some caltrops in the grass a moon or two ago. She would receive orders from him, as would Majors Krebble and Thrakodok, and Captains Frezlkil, Bosul, and Yok. Dofsukel was the only female officer with a company, but since it consisted entirely of females, only a female could lead it.
Zokkul laid down their orders, sounding as though he concocted the whole thing himself and made sure his subordinates understood. As they broke to prep their troops, Zokkul told Dofsukel to wait.
She didn't want to spend more time in Zokkul's tent than she had to, but thought he may have something important to tell her. When she saw his grin, that idea faded completely.
"Well, Dof, how's about a quickie before the ruckus?"
"You've gotta be kiddin, Zokkul. Oi don't 'ave toim fer this." Her look of contempt was hidden by the concealing mask, something she was thankful for. She turned to leave when a large hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her about.
"That wuzn't a request, 'Major'!"
He shoved her to the desk and she heard his breeches hit the floor. There was no way she'd let this happen just before a battle and went to fight back, only to be rewarded with a punch in the back of her head.
While stars played about before her eyes, she felt her wrists being bound by something and realized what he had planned.
This wasn't the typical payment she had to deal with, he intended to rape her and ruin her chances to having a good fight. Maybe even get her killed.
Zokkul flipped up the chainmail that covered her ass, and remarked about how he loved the fact that Orc females went into combat without being fully clothed. She'd meant to throw on a pair of cutoff breaches but 'someone' hadn't given her any time to get fully dressed.
The head of Zokkul's member pushed against Dofsukel's unlubricated asshole and he had to put his whole body into penetrating her. Dofsukel screamed at the invasion, and the pain prevented her from relaxing. A hot, sharp stab of pain erupted inside her as he ran the head of his cock into the soft, closed sphincter at the upper end of her ass, her whole body moved forward when his long, thick shaft rammed against it.
He moaned as he felt her fight to get away and the wonderful way her tight hole tried to reject his invading rod. Zokkul pulled back and thrust in hard, making Dofsukel shriek in pain and lurch forward against the immobile desk. He made a few more powerful strokes and managed to speed up his tempo while she winced and whined and jerked against him.
Dofsukel's eyes welled up with tears and she began to cry at the violation. How could she fight after this? He would send her into combat with shaky legs and her whole command would know what happened as his goo ran down her thighs, she'd be lucky if they followed her orders at all. Zokkul's motions sped up, quick, hard thrusts with a slightly slower withdrawal. He was moving his whole member in and out now and saw the tears flow on Dofsukel's cheeks, an evil laughter wafted from his mouth to her ears.
Just when she thought she was going to die from the pain, she felt hot, wet seed squirting into her abused anus. Zokkul left a few loads in her ass, then pulled out to shoot thick strands of come across her ass and the back of her thighs. Breathlessly, he withdrew and put all his strength into a mighty backhand across her left buttock. She lurched once more and collapsed onto the desk. She vaguely felt him untie her and then heard him leave the tent without a word.
Dofsukel rose, her rear end was on fire, and she reached back to find small traces of her blood mixed with the white, sticky come he left inside her. All the pain and suffering changed to rage and anger inside her, and she almost charged out of the tent.
Zokkul would not get the best of her. She would rally her company and outshine him on the field, maybe getting the notice of old Ploknag himself. After all, if that weedy medic could grow on him, why couldn't she? She squared her jaw, ignored the sticky mess on her backside and thought over the words she'd give her company.
- - - - - (This story does not take place in the world of warcraft universe nor the world of warcraft online game.)
The Human army was a neatly organized sight. The armour of the mounted knights gleamed in the sun; entire infantry units wore either chain mail or brigandine that was cleaned and shiny. Archers wore bright red tunics and feathered caps, and even the medical staff in the backfield had a crisp, unformed look. Overall, they were silent, composed, and rather stiff looking.
Dofsukel compared them to the seething mass of Orcs behind her. Her company was the only one that even looked like it was a unified group. The females in chain, facemasks and paired weapons looked out of place amongst ten times their number in males, no two of which looked alike. The entire Orc army chanted in unison, a great chorus of 'Koo-gra', which translated into the Human word for blood. It was overwhelming and even in her angered state she could not help but join in.
The Humans fidgeted across the field, uneasy that ten thousand Orcs were arrayed much in the way the Human army was.
The Humans started by sending wave after wave of arrows across the field. The Orcs tried to respond but the majority of their volleys fell short. Dofsukel guessed that maybe one in twenty Orcs were too wounded to be of value. She'd been fortunate to issue large wooden shields to her troops, and they became invaluable as the arrows rained down on them. She peeked out from her protection to see cavalry moving towards them. She glanced back and did a quick head count, she had maybe four of two hundred out of the fight, while Zokkul's troops tried to take cover under bucklers and small round shields. She saw him pulling an arrow from his thigh, a small, meaningless wound, but every ounce of pain he felt made her feel better.
The Hobgoblins seemed able to dodge most of the incoming fire and made it through unscathed while looking up the chain mail at the rumps of Dofsukel's company. They joked in their own language and many made grabbing motions with their hands or thrusting motions with their hips while standing behind their Orc counterparts.
Soon, the hail of arrows stopped and the cavalry thundered across the field. Ploknag's battle horn could be heard and the entire army surged forward.
Across the field, General Answar Kerkemann watched from horseback, and noted the seemingly reckless actions the Orcs were taking.
"I say, Richtov, are they charging our cavalry? Are they insane?"
Richtov, an officer who inherited his commission, gave a quick, smug laugh, and shifted his weight on the saddle. "It would appear so, sir. These creatures may try to imitate us, but they'll never pose a serious threat."
Content in his superiority, Kerkemann ordered his army forward. The cavalry would ride the center of their army down, then turn to charge the rear of whichever flank didn't rout. Archers unstrung their bows and sat upon the grass, producing hip flasks of the cheap potato alcohol the locals made with illegal stills, and waited to watch the Orcs die like flies.
The entire Orc line was pressing forward and as the cavalry went into full gallop, Dofsukel remembered the orders she'd given her company. She gave a shrill cry as the first of the horsemen crashed into Zokkul's troops and her entire company stopped, as did the Hobgoblins.
Zokkul's Orcs were trampled by horses and run through with lances, quickly becoming confused. They began to break, Zokkul himself leading the panicked retreat while the Human cavalry swooped down on those at the rear. Dofsukel saw the LtC running and stood to bar his path.
"Get out of me way, bitch! Can'tcha see they's got 'eavy 'orse?!" In his panic, he didn't recognize her.
Dofsukel waited for him to draw near and drove her longsword into his chest. As Zokkul staggered, his men stalled behind him in disbelief.
"Any o' you sons o' whores that runs will be cut down by my company!" Her voice boomed over the din of combat, and a burly Captain, Zokkul's second in command stepped forward and demanded to know who she was.
Dofsukel pulled her mask off and showed him.
"YEW?! The bitch Zok's been butt-fuckin'? Move it, whore, or I'll.."
He never finished his sentence, Dofsukel's mask flew threw the air and collided with his face. In a spray of blood and teeth, the Captain fell to one knee, screaming in pain. Zokkul tried to stay on his feet, and began to level his weapon at Dofsukel. She was faster, whirling about and severing his head in one stroke. As his body hit the ground, she could see her company form up in a solid line with the Hobgoblins ahead of them.
The Captain, with one hand over his bloody face, raised his mace to attack the crazy bitch ahead of him, but was turned into a pincushion of crossbow bolts before he could swing. The remnants of Zokkul's company were stunned.
Dofsukel ordered them to disperse to the right and left, and to let the Human cavalry through. They ran to their brothers and quickly rallied.
The cavalry noticed that none of the flanks were moving against them, and prepared to charge the line of chain mail clad Orcs. As they picked up speed, the Hobgoblins formed into three ranks: One standing, one kneeling, and one lying down. Too late did the Humans realize what was happening as the entire unit of crossbowmen began to fire volleys by rank.
The Hobgoblins were naturally talented with crossbows, trained to use them against Dwarves in the tunnels, but never with such organization. In all, three ranks of thirty each sent a volley every couple of seconds. The cavalry crumbled under withering fire and perhaps fifteen were left galloping across the field in retreat.
Ploknag couldn't believe his eyes. Crossbows versus cavalry? The idea was insane to say the least! But it had worked and the Humans were still advancing without the benefit of horsemen, and were now outnumbered. His horn sounded and the line broke into a full run, howling and chanting, thirsty for blood.
The battle was over soon after. Most of the Humans lay dead on the field, they never received orders to retreat despite being outnumbered, having underestimated the threat Orcs could pose. Hobgoblins looted the bodies of the dead, making neat piles of armour and weapons, keeping coins and jewelry to themselves. The paltry sum of such trinkets was outweighed by the amount of gold his army would save by using looted weapons instead of ordering new supplies from the guild's forges.
Ploknag found Dofsukel having a cut on her leg treated and stood before her, arms crossed. She looked unsure of what was about to happen, she wore no underwear and so her maimed pussy was completely exposed to him, and Zokkul's come still stained her legs. Ploknag wasn't in particularly good shape either, Dofsukel noticed, but damned if his weedy little medic had come through again. "So, Major, whut do yew 'ave ta say fer yerself?"
"Oi.. Oi 'ope I didn't ruin yer strategy, sur," she was slightly scared. Deviating from orders was one thing, but killing two officers was something else.
"Ruin me strategy? Are yew kiddin'? Oi was worried them horses would kill every Orc in Zokkul's command! That bleedin' moron don't know 'strategy' from a 'ole inna ground!"
"Then, yer not mad at me?" she asked, sheepishly.
"MAD!?" He reached down, grabbed her waist and held her high, "Oi'm frakkin' amazed at what yew did! Oi'm bleedin' ecstatic!"
Dofsukel's spirits soared as Ploknag set her back down. He laughed out loud and hugged her tighly to his great chest.
"Oi, uh.. Oi was told 'ow Zokkul treated ya," he let her go and put his arms on her shoulders, "Oi really can't blame ya for takin' 'is head off. But, uh, now I gots to fill a command spot. Do yew know anyone I could, uh, promote to a Lieutenant Colonel?"
Dofsukel's jaw dropped. Ploknag wouldn't mention something like this unless he meant she was up for promotion. She was speechless.
"Report for yer ink tommorow, noon. And Oi'll put in a word to have 'em, uh, deal with any other problems ye might 'ave." He nodded and winked at her, chuckled and walked away to deal with the many other issues he had to deal with.
Dofsukel fell back on the grass, raised her arms and let out a great cry of victory. She no longer had Zokkul to deal with, she had a battalion to command, and the old Orc had finally noticed her. Life was great!
"Yew think loif's tough for a grunt? All they 'ave ta worry about
is getting killed, an' that only 'appens to ya once. Try bein' a female
in this army, we're outnumbered by the males about thirty to one, and
most officers won't promote ya unless ya spread yer legs for 'em!
Anyone who tinks dis is easy can go ta blazes!"
4th Brigade, 2nd division, 1st Corps under General Ploknag-ko-Krazudahk
As dictated to Gorruk Plinthale for his book, "Orcs of the Continent",
Standard Year 7916 (-415 Imperial Years).