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Notes: Greetings! My welcome here has been amazing. Thanks everyone for the great support! This is another older orc x elf mpreg story and I'm going to release the whole thing in the coming weeks! For those of you who bought my beastmen series, thank you! You're all getting a sequel. Expect that to be ready early November. Until then, Orcs and Elves are going to make the rounds with smutty domineering romance and hot and heavy mpreg. The whole novel is available for purchase if you can't wait over here --> https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1111773

Again, I can't express thanks enough for the amazing support. Like most people, this year has been pretty rough and this has been a really bright spot during some tough times. You're wonderful people here.

The Elven Captain's Desires

Part 1: The Sensual Dream

The elven captain, Meryln of the High Seas, was making his rounds below decks as was per usual. Though the evening was quiet his walk was more important than ever due to the presence of several orcs that had been rescued from a ship attacked under mysterious circumstances. Long ago Captain Meryln had dealings with orcs when their two kingdoms had been at war; they were brutish and lawless beasts as far as he was concerned and even when well behaved, were only a strong drink away from committing some heinous act of brutality.

While strolling through the gently swaying wooden halls of the ship, Meryln heard something that sounded like rough housing coming from one of the rooms. It sounded as if orcs and some of the elven crew were engaging in some sort of physical altercation. When the door was tried Merlyn found it locked, unusual on his own ship. Meryln found himself peering through the key hole, straining to see what exactly was happening.

At first all Merlyn could make out was the muscled back of an orc. The massive orc was watching what was going on in front of him. After a moment, he moved just enough to the side for Merlyn to clearly understand what was happening.

There was a wooden table that had been draped in blankets and cushions for comfort, one of Meryln's crew laid upon it in some delirious state of pleasure. A different orc was massaging the young elven man's chest, squeezing and pinching the slightly swollen nipples, while obscenely rotating his hips against the elven man's backside.

"Take our dicks, elven slut," another orc grunted, releasing from his loincloth his massive, turgid cock.

Merlyn was shocked, stunned even, but he couldn't look away. He was seeing his own desires play out in front of him, it was the stuff of erotic fantasies, things he'd dare not express out loud to anyone. Most elves had heard whispers of elven men marrying orcs or being carried away by them to be despoiled during the old wars. But the actual number of elven men who had ever done such a thing in modern times, or even thought about it, was infinitesimally small. Merlyn could count himself as one of the few who had often thought about it, who dreamed about it even if it wasn't something he'd ever want to admit to anyone.

Merlyn couldn't resist this rare sight, and undid the waist of his fine captain's robe. He would simply pleasure himself, then walk away without saying a word about it, saving untold embarrassment.

The massive orc was teasing the hole of the prostrate elf, rubbing the tip of his enormous green cock against it. The elf seemed to be almost out of his mind from it, moaning and whining.

"Please, master orc!" the elf cried, "I want to have your children, I want to be filled with your semen!"

"Beg properly," the orc grunted, "and I may gift you with a full womb!"

"Ooh! Despoil my slit, I'm your woman master orc! I'm your bride, fill me with your glorious semen! Conquer my elven virtues with your orcish brutality!" the elf cried.

The orc growled in pleasure, and finally began thrusting inside the squealing elf.

"He's better than a Gel'dorai whore," the other orc said, "the little slut will be spitting out our children in no time."

Merlyn felt a shiver of something go through him, pleasure or fear he wasn't sure. There was the forbidden act in all its glory that lit his lust on fire; an orc impregnating an elven man. If he had been a proper captain he would have at least shouted and raised the alarm, stopping the debauchery of his crew member. But he wasn't about to stop them. His cock twitched in his hand as he slowly stroked himself.

The elf was wildly crying out, while the orc pounded into him. The great green man almost destroyed the table when he began to thrust violently into the prone elf underneath of him, his massive balls slamming against the fine elven backside. When the orc's cock began to spurt, the elf's legs twitched convulsively and he began to moan, frantic. It was clear that the elf was beyond climaxing and into the realm of a pleasure so intense it was warping his ability to make coherent sounds.

Merlyn felt himself shiver and he began to shake, trembling his own weak orgasm. It wasn't enough, he swallowed thickly, he'd wanted to be the one being despoiled.

When the orc slowly removed his enormous penis the semen spilled out of the elf's well used hole and that was when Merlyn observed for himself the strange transformation the erotic books had spoken about. The elf's hole was swelling, deeply pink and moist like a perfect receptacle for orcish cock. It had changed from a sensual elven anus into a slutty orcish love hole, twitching with need to be dominated again.

"Ooh master orc," the elf moaned, his voice barely audible, "I'm your whore, your slave!"

"That's right, pretty elf," the other orc said, as he readied himself to penetrate the prone elven man, "and you're going to be begging us all night to despoil those pretty holes! Stick your cock in his mouth, Gorok, make sure he's filled with superior orc semen!"

The orc did as was suggested, and was soon deep throating the elven man while the other orc was penetrating him with a rough and thunderous thrusting. The elf was flushed, delirious and shamelessly nude, his pink nipples also taking on the same flushed swelling as his hole. Despite his erection, he somehow looked more womanly, or perhaps just far more debauched than a man had any right to be. Or at least, that's what Merlyn thought as he came from his own touch for the second time.

Merlyn shuddered, while watching the orc men take their pleasure from the once innocent crewman. He observed their semen spattering all over the elf, and the wild pleasure the elf took in rubbing it into his body like the finest soothing cream.

"Our scent is on you, elf slut," the orc grunted, "you're our bitch now, our woman!"

"Yes," the elf moaned, "I belong to you, to your tribe, forever!"

Merlyn withdrew from his observation, still trembling from his orgasm. As he rose he bumped into a large, solid warm frame.

"Captain," the voice grunted.

"Shaman Grotmire," Merlyn said, turning around in surprise, "what are you doing here-"

The orc grabbed him firmly by his arms and gazed at him with a smoldering intensity.

"It's time Captain," the orc grunted, "to become my bride."

The hot brutish tongue that thrust into his mouth wasn't hated, it was welcomed. And Merlyn could feel the intense arousal begin building in his stomach again, swirling darkly, encouraging him to spread his legs and let the orc have him. Just like his crewman had allowed the warriors to despoil every part of him in glorious debauchery. This was meant to be, a manifested destiny to become an orc's bride.

With a near shout, Merlyn shot up in bed. He blinked into the early morning light leaking in from the porthole and clutched himself tightly. The sweat was still clinging to his brow and between his thighs was alarmingly moist.

It had been another erotic dream, his fourth in so many nights. He was beginning to realize he had a serious problem and it wasn't only because of his dubious reading material. After all, though the crewman's debauching had been an event concocted by his wild imagination, the orc shaman Grotmire was very real.

After taking care of his morning ablutions and preparing himself for a day keeping watch on the high seas, Merlyn was met on the upper decks by the orc in question. It was only his immense self control that kept him from becoming embarrassed enough to show a blush around the orc shaman's very presence.

"Good morning Captain," Grotmire said, in his usual growl, "I hope you've slept well."

The shaman Grotmire was a massive man, even by orcish standards. He had the appearance of an older male of his race, his braided hair had gone gray. However, unlike many other species his vigor and battle hardiness remained. His arms were enormous, green and bulging from the leather strips that wrapped around them and his legs were like tree trunks. He stood with the utmost confidence and stern visage of a proud spiritual leader of his tribe.

"I have, thank you," Merlyn said.

It was a terrible lie but Merlyn thought nothing of his deception. He would do anything to receive that smoldering, scrutnizing gaze from shaman Grotmire.

There was little trouble on deck, his elven crewmen did their duties with great efficiency and the orcs and his crew tolerated each other well enough. But there was one matter that had brought about some contention between them.

"Have you perhaps decided that it's time to discuss with your Captain what exactly befell your heavily armored ship and caused it to take on enough water to sink in calm seas?" Merlyn said.

The shaman Grotmire merely grunted, "the spirits have not given permission to speak of it."

"Perhaps you can coerce your spirits into considering us allies and not foes," Merlyn said.

"That's a matter up to them," Grotmire said, face stern and impassive as always.

As the first mate rose from below decks, he began to laugh cruelly.

"Spirits," he said, mockingly, "what sort of pagan madness is this? It's a matter of official importance to know an enemy's motivation."

"Lendin," Merlyn said, "the orcs are our guests, our peoples have been at peace for centuries."

The first mate Lendin was a man of great honor but also of a terrible bias. It hadn't mattered before to Merlyn what his crew thought of anything, as long as they obeyed. But now forced to be close quarters with the orcish nation, Merlyn realized what sort of difficulties may arise and disobedience was the least of them.

"They would be guests," Lendin said, "if they told us precisely what happened to put them in such a predicament. Otherwise, they merely expose their beastly motivations to destroy us with every refusal."

Some of the other crewmen began to gather on deck, Lendin had given voice to things that they were too unsure of to speak aloud. All elven seamen were well versed in orcish vessels and knew what it took to sink them. They were heavily armored and masterfully navigated, the very notion that one had sunk for no reason at all was preposterous in and of itself. But the orcs seemed to hold firm on their mutual secrecy.

"I understand your family suffered great losses during the orcish wars," Merlyn said sharply, "but our companions were not involved in your old disputes, Lendin. And if these warriors should take offense, then I wouldn't blame them for defending themselves against such baseless accusations. And I would be forced to take action on anyone who disobeys my direct order to keep the peace."

The rest of the crew looked away and quickly went back to work, knowing it was a bad idea to test Merlyn's already frayed temper.

Lendin narrowed his eyes, it seemed likely he would argue further but after seeing his fellow crewmen had abandoned his cause, he relented.

"My apologies, orc," Lendin said.

The shaman sighed slightly, "accepted."

"I suggest all of us return to our work," Merlyn said, "without allowing our previous arguments to taint any future relationships."

The orc warriors also looked slightly less aggrieved, though Merlyn would be the first to admit it was difficult to tell an orc's temperament even at the best of times, with their heavy set brows and grim countenance. The rest of the day went peacefully and Merlyn could spend his time monitoring the magical elements that propelled the ship through the deep waters at the helm. They were well on course, heading towards the great elven capital, just as they had been when they met the sinking orc battleship.

It had been difficult to convince them to leave the ship at all. When Merlyn had assisted the orcs on the Flesh Render they were most aggrieved to leave their boat as they were the last of an endangered tribe. They were only forced into action when the hull nearly split in two. Whatever foe they had met must have been fierce and terrifying, as they refused to speak of it on the advice of their shaman.

"You wouldn't understand Captain," Grotmire had said, "we orcs live by the tenements of the elemental spirits, and when they tell us to be silent or to cry out in rage, we listen."

The orc shaman was the biggest among his companions and at the time had impressed Merlyn with his firm hand in ruling the chaotic and brutish orcs.

"We Rockbiters are a proud people," Grotmire had said, "if few in number. We do not fail to uphold our spiritual duties nor our practical ones. Consider our warriors in your hands, should you need them as a thanks. They are all able seamen with many waves faced between them."

An extremely friendly orc, by all estimations but one that was also a mystery. And Merlyn knew well enough that every mystery at sea was a far more interesting one than when it was on land. It was perhaps only Merlyn's imagination fired by the many lonely months at sea that made him wonder about Grotmire's lingering gaze on his form, for instance. It had continued for the last four days, the orc would agree to whatever reasonable request Merlyn had of him, then linger his brutish eyes on him before leaving to do whatever task was set before him,

Merlyn had to admit, the strength of the mighty orc warriors was certainly efficient at running a ship, magically powered or not. The sails had never been altered so fast when manual efforts were a necessity in such unpredictable, deep waters, and Merlyn was quietly thankful as his crew had tired from an earlier storm that had beset them on the first part of their voyage. He wondered if that storm was any sort of 'elemental' sign but he truly knew nothing of the orcs religious values as like most orc cultural customs, it was quite obscure knowledge.

Suddenly, a strong wind picked up and the waves began to swell. The sky was clear but it didn't seem to matter, it was like a sudden storm had descended without clouds.

"Captain!" the shout came from the first mate, Lendin, "the rudder is twisting! The magic's come undone!"

Rushing towards the sail Merlyn managed to grab it just as it came loose. The sail swung around and skimmed the back of his head. It almost threw him over the side but a strong arm caught him before he went over into the churning sea. When he was pulled up from the deck, it was Grotmire clutching the shrouds for both of them who had been his savior.

"Are you all right, Captain?" Grotmire said.

"Yes, thank you," Merlyn said, "what is this? The magic on the ship is being undone, and the storm came from nowhere! It must be magical, nothing else could make such a thing happen so quickly!"

"It's a curse," Grotmire said, "similar to the one that struck our own ship. But we can make it through, we know its ways. My warriors will help."

"That's greatly appreciated, quickly! All hands on deck!" Merlyn shouted.

The elves and orcs worked together for many hours to keep their ship from taking on water, with the magic faltering everything had to be done by hand until it could be restored. For some hours, Merlyn was at the helm directing the ship through the violent seas, careful to mind the enormous waves intent on scuttling it. Eventually, the mysterious storm abated in the hours of the early morning. The wind died down and the water became calm, most of the crew was near exhaustion from battling the weather but they had managed to survive with little damage to the ship.

Grotmire had been directing his warriors, they had assisted the elves and had nearly spent themselves in the effort. They were heaped here and there on the deck, their massive forms slumping a testament to the strength of what they had faced. The shaman Grotmire was using his elemental magic to heal any injuries, mercifully few and when he finally came to Merlyn he seemed glad that he was unharmed.

"No wounds?" Grotmire said, glancing at Merlyn.

"No, I'm all right. Thank you, shaman. Without your help, we would have been lost at sea," Merlyn said.

Grotmire merely grunted, his strange, dark eyes lingering on Merlyn once again.

Lendin let out a loud scoff, "it was the litheness of the elven crew that saved us. This violence could have been from the orc's own elemental magics, how would we know the difference?"

"I would not curse a host," Grotmire said, darkly "we Rockbiters value hospitality."

"I wish these orcs would do as their name implies," Lendin muttered.

The orc warriors snarled but Grotmire stayed their ire with a raised hand, his bracelet of small animal skulls rattling loudly.

"If you'll excuse us, Captain, my men are tired after their exertions and need some rest but I will supply any warriors you request for tonight's watch."

"Thank you, Grotmire," Merlyn said.

There was a small room below deck that Merlyn retreated to, in order to catch his breath. He clutched himself, panic nearly overwhelming him. Why had their ship's magic failed? It had been made by a master caster and tuned to only himself with his own formidable magical abilities. It was twisting in his head, bothering him. There was something he was overlooking...but he was interrupted when he heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," Merlyn said, "it's open."

He straightened himself out and tried to appear like the confident high elven captain he knew he was.

"Captain," Grotmire said, his gazy heavy, "I believe there's a traitor on this ship. The rudder has the mark of dark magic tampering all over it, I've just confirmed it myself."

"This is a dark suspicion indeed," Merlyn said, "the patience of my crew is tested, I suggest not mentioning it to anyone until we determine who they might be."

"I agree," Grotmire said, his eyes softened, "thank you Captain, for defending my crew."

"It's only right," Merlyn said, "you've been a great help to us, no matter what anyone thinks of the orcs."

Their eyes met, and Merlyn felt himself blush slightly under the brutal gaze of the mighty orc shaman. It was if Grotmire was trying to tell him something but hadn't the words to say it. After a few moments, Grotmire simply grunted in an agreeable way, and left to arrange his warriors for the evening watch.

That night Merlyn went to his bed in the captain's quarters. The orcs were patrolling the ship and he was permitting himself some much needed rest. The strange attack on the ship weighed on his mind but he knew, deep down inside that Grotmire had been right. However, if there was an enemy that could break elven magic and leave no trace at all, it would be mighty indeed and a danger to everyone. He fell into a light sleep, the gentle ease of his ship on the sea rocking him into a strange place between deep sleep and dreams.

PART 2-->