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Light came to the worgen's closed eyes. Jawhen grunted as he slowly awoke. The first thing he realized was that his head hurt, and not in the 'good' hangover kind of way. Then he realized that his whole body ached. There was an uncomfortable pressure around his wrists, tightness around his ankles. His back was killing him...

"Fuck..." The rogue's eyes opened slowly. The sun was just beginning to rise on the horizon above forcing him to close his eyes again for a few moments until they could adjust properly to the light. Jawhen tried to move, but instead of his limbs obeying his ears flickered in response to the light rattle of chains.

"Great." With a heavy sigh, the worgen forced his lazy eyes open to assess his situation. He was bound, that much he had already realized, but not in cramped jail cell or some underground cave like it usually was. The worgen was chained out in the open, right in the middle of the dusty, ugly city of Orgrimmar. Jawhen twisted around in his bonds as much as he could to study his surroundings. They had chained him to the Skull of Mannoroth, Orgrimmar's famous war trophy from the powerful Legion demon the orcs had conquered way back then. The skull was set atop the hefty trunk of a dead tree, to which Mannoroth's armor plate was also strapped to and, right in front of it, there was him. His arms were kept high and spread by manacles tied to the Skull's horns above him while and his legs just as well with his ankles held by chains fixated to the tree's base. The worgen was bound too high up to be able to touch the ground with his feet, though, which left him suspended by the chains holding his arms in a pretty damn uncomfortable way. Fucking orcs and their need to show off everything they killed to everyone. Or, in his case, captured.

With the sun barely rising, the Valley of Wisdom, which was where the Skull of Mannoroth was located, stood pretty much empty. Jawhen could get a glimpse of an orc grunt pretty much asleep in his post on the path to The Drag, but he knew that the place wouldn't be that peaceful for long.

The light morning breeze ruffled the black fur of the bound worgen's thicker mane. They had stripped him of all his armor. Gone were his enchanted daggers, rings and heavy leather. "I'll have to get those back, too," the worgen thought with a sigh. They had left him with nothing but the white tank top shirt and simple brown cloth pants he usually wore under the leather.

Jawhen rolled his shoulders as best as he could. His back felt strained in the awkward position, but he had been through worse. That wasn't the first, second, third or tenth time he had been caught and captured. Heck, a bunch of trolls had once tied him by his feet, leaving him dangling upside down. But, knowing how to get out of places was as much a part of a rogue's job as figuring out how to get in was as far as the rogue was concerned. Granted, it had been years since the last time he had found himself captured.

The worgen got to work. Jawhen kept the claws of his index fingers, if they could still be called fingers in that lupine form, sharp and thin to work as an impromptu lockpick. One of the many advantages of being a worgen. He wasn't a human, but he wasn't a wolf. Sharp claws and dexterous fingers, best of both worlds. The rogue grunted, trying to twist his wrist enough to look for the lock on the manacles over his right arm. He was damn good at dealing with handcuffs, jail cells and he could handle doors with his eyes blindfolded, but he had to admit that manacles that kept his hands separate like that were very troublesome. It took him a lot of time and straining to blindly find the tiny lock around his wrist and he knew that it would take an even longer time for him to manage to figure out the lock with his claw barely even reaching in there. With an annoyed sigh, Jawhen started working though it.

They had said that sneaking into Orgrimmar, the capital city of the orcs- no, pretty much of the whole Horde, was crazy. He should have listened. In his defense, he was doing pretty well in getting past Orgrimmar's dumb grunts. The gate had been a breeze, the pathway had plenty of places to hide in and the streets had been pretty empty at night. What he wasn't counting on was an orc hunter with one of those annoying trained worgs as a pet.

The oversized tamed wolf got a whiff of his scent downwind and from that point on everything went south. Jawhen had been spotted, alarms went off, then the hunter, Ogrimmar's grunts and every damned horde member nearby was upon him in a heartbeat. He honestly couldn't quite remember which blow had knocked him out, but the horde's shamans had been nice enough to heal him before putting him up on display like a wild animal. He was sure he remembered taking a few axe cuts that were gone from his skin.

The worgen was making progress. Painfully, unnervingly slow progress, but progress nonetheless. He had managed to twist his wrist enough to jam his deep claw into the lock and was in the process of figuring out how to turn it, but it required a great deal of focus from him. A sound made the rogue's ears shoot up and, when he looked and saw orcs approaching, he cursed under his breath and stopped what he was doing. The orcs approached already jeering towards him. Simple workers, as far as he could tell.

"Regas gesh grom raznos g zugas kil ha mog lok' rar gesh re'ka," one orc said to the other, then they both laughed. Jawhen just glared at them. Thankfully, they did little but point at him, exchange a few more words in orcish that the worgen couldn't understand, then moved on.

The rogue got back to work as soon as they were gone. The event repeated itself a few times, however, and though some orcs, tauren or trolls didn't even stop to look at him, others were loud and annoying with their mockery. One troll had the audacity to decide that it would be fun to poke his fur and Jawhen felt pretty proud at how hard his sudden, throaty growl had made him flinch and pull away.

The worgen didn't mind the mockery so much. Sure, it was annoying, but he had a little trick where he imagined himself twisting a dagger in the back of whoever was laughing at him. That did wonders to soothe him and help control his anger. The problem was that it got in the way of his work on getting out. He couldn't risk anyone realizing what he was doing, nor could he focus properly on figuring out the lock with so many interruptions. Still, despite all of that, the rogue made progress. Until he saw a familiar face approaching.

"Grom aaz ha thrakk gi kil'azi gesh L no'ku! Ruk L? Thok ogg mu mog g zuk kil!" Jawhen's eyes narrowed towards the orc as he approached. He recognized the hunter from the previous night, the one initially responsible for his capture. The orc's skin was of the standard dark green, easy to see because unlike the previous night, the orc was walking around shirtless. He had quite the muscular frame, common for an orc, and he stank of a mix of sweat, stables and, well, orc that was quite unmistakable to the worgen's sharp nose.

He had a horde symbol tattooed on his left arm, short hair in a mohawk style and all the annoying adornments orcs usually liked to have, such as small earrings. By his side trotted the same large worg from the night before, pelt as black as the worgen's own. On the orc's other side walked an older looking orc, or perhaps it was just the beard that made him look older. He was bald, as green-skinned as his companion and he chuckled at the hunter's comment, whatever it was. They both approached the bound worgen, looking up at him with sneers. The worgen let out a soft, warning growl towards them as he had done to most that approached.

"Grom zug re'ka ro'th mog. Ro'th kaz gorm uruk ha keg," the hunter commented towards the other orc. They both stared up at him in a way that unnerved the worgen, so he decided to just look away and ignore them.

"Mu maza ka thok kil'Azi thog khaz'rogg'ahn keg," the other orc responded. They both shared a soft laugh.

"Gor g no'ku. Ragath'a maka kaz mog maza kef thok kil'Azi revash," the hunter said again. Just as he finished speaking, the orc put a hand over the worgen's thigh. The touch had his eyes snapping back to the orc. The worgen immediately snarled and showed his sharp teeth, growling menacingly. Unlike the troll from earlier the orc hunter wasn't bothered at all by his aggressive behavior. He let out a laugh, in fact, and the orc's big hand didn't leave his leg. It simply gave it a few pats.

"Ruk? Ken nogah kil kagg kazum ogg gul'rok kaz'um uruk." The hunter snorted, the other orc just chuckled. The orc's hand still over his leg gripped at his thigh over his pants. The touch felt invasive, crude, and it made the worgen pull at the chains holding his wrists up in sheer reflex to slap it away. It made him feel vulnerable, or rather, reminded him how vulnerable he was bound like that.

"Fuck you," Jawhen growled down towards the orcs. His voice was rough and deep with his feral growling never ceasing even in between his words. "Keep touching me and I'll take your head as a souvenir after I get out of here." Jawhen knew his threat would fall flat because of the language barrier, but he still meant it.

"Grom tov'osh ag ogg," the old orc said to the hunter with a smirk. Whatever it was he said made the hunter laugh with amusement again. "Mu kill'azi gesh ag thok ogg nogah kef."

The orc hunter opened an ugly grin. It made the worgen wish his ankles were free to kick his smug face.

"Grom has regas. L gul il kog'zela L ogar zaga kef," the hunter said. His hand went up to the worgen's inner thigh and gave it a squeeze, making Jawhen let out a whole new, loud angry growl.

"He say you his prize. He can do what he want," the old orc by the hunter's side said in a crude, thick accented common. The worgen looked at him right away unable to hide the surprise from his face. Orcs who could understand and speak common were rare.

"Tell him I'll slit his throat with my bare claws while he sleeps tonight!" The worgen growled towards the orc who could understand him. He jerked back and forth in his bonds to push that hand away from him, but the hunter was determined to keep touching him.

"Mu regas maza rath'is ag ogg," the old orc said. Jawhen knew there was no way he had translated his message properly. Fucking orcs. The hunter simply smirked again.

"Ha mu kil'azi gesh il ka rath'is, L ogg gi tago maza kef zaka im." Whatever it was the hunter said, his hand finally left the worgen's leg. For a moment he hoped his threatening had finally worked, but then in one swift movement the orc's hand grabbed at the waistband of his pants and pulled. A ripping sound followed as the laces around the waist snapped, then the orc pulled his ruined pants all the way down to his knees, which was as far as they could go with the worgen's legs forcefully spread as they were. The unforeseen act had the worgen's eyes going wide, but from his throat came a growl so powerful that even other passersby and horde members that had already lost interest turned their heads towards him again.

Just as before, instead of scaring the orcs, the growl simply made the hunter and his companion laugh. Even the worg by the hunter's side simply sat on his haunches merely watching everything with an oblivious expression. The worgen's wrists pulled at the chains holding them up with fury. He couldn't keep his ears from falling back when he felt the morning breeze right against the fur of his dangling, exposed sack and heavy, canine-like sheath out in the open.

"Pull those up!" Jawhen growled down at the orc. He controlled the tone of his voice, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself than he had already done. Though no one else was approaching him with the two orcs already there he saw a group of orcs grunts nearby staring at him and talking to each other. A few tauren that probably tended to the tents and facilities of the Valley of Wisdom had also left their post to see what was going on.

"Mu throm il kazum ogg," the old orc said to the hunter, hopefully translating what the worgen had said. Whether he had or not the rogue immediately saw that it hadn't worked when he met the hunter's malicious grin aimed at him.

"Grom golar." The hunter just said in response. The worgen saw the orc's hand coming up again and tried to jerk away from it. The snarling he let out as a warning fell on deaf ears, because that hand came up anyways and, much to the worgen's outrage, went straight to gripping his balls right between his legs.

Jawhen thrashed against the chains right away.

"DON'T touch that!" The worgen snarled, his words barely intelligible between the rough, feral-like growling that came with it. The orc, however, simply gave his balls a light squeeze, then nonchalantly moved his fingers up to feel the worgen's sheath. It was outrageous. It was obscene! Though rage swelled inside the angry worgen, his ears also folded back against his head. He was vulnerable and, bound like that, there was nothing he could do about it.

"Maza ak ogar. Grom nogu gesh g thok maka no'ku." The hunter spoke with a sneer, voice full of amusement. The other orc by his side let out a small laugh and folded his arms across his chest while watching the hunter play around with the worgen's sheath.

"He say you same as his pet." As the old orc translated the hunter's words, he nodded his head towards the big worg idly scratching himself with a hindpaw by the hunter's side. Knowing what he was saying only made the worgen angrier.

"I'll bite that hand off if he doesn't let go of me right NOW!" Jawhen's threat and growl brought nothing but more chuckles. The old one didn't even bother translating it to the hunter, whose finger moved on to toying with the worgen's hanging sack. It playfully made it sway back and forth, then the orc decided to give it a few finger flicks. It made the angry worgen flinch, but also struggle against the manacles with renewed strength.

"L gezzno ha mog maza ha gesh g thukad kef," the hunter said in a casual tone. The orc's heavy fingers came back up to his sheath, then much to the worgen's shame, they pulled it back. It revealed his pink, tapered concealed member for everyone to see. The orc's fingers had no reservations about touching it and, worse yet, pulling the sheath further back to start running his fingers back and forth over the worgen's sensitive, hidden penis.

"What the HELL are you doing?!" The worgen's question came with another loud snarl. He jerked his hips to the side successfully taking his sheath away from the hunter's fingers once, but then the orc simply brought his other hand up to the worgen's hip as well to help keep him steady so that he could continue his work.

"Maza ag go! Grom nogu gesh g kazum!" The hunter laughed. Jawhen still continued his struggle to get away from the orc's hand, but with his movements limited the hunter had no trouble following no matter how much he tried to turn away from them. Somehow, the orc seemed to know what he was doing. His fingers coaxed the worgen's member from his sheath, stroking it to make it grow in a steady pace.

The worgen did his best to keep it from happening, but ultimately it proved to be just a matter of anatomy. The orc's fingers worked on his cock as it started to harden and, the more it did, the more he took advantage of it. Though the orc's fingers were big, the hunter managed to be delicate enough so that, as much as the rogue hated to admit it, the stroking felt good. As it grew out in the open the worgen's member started taking a darker tone of red. When his member was almost fully hard the orc's fingers retreated, but the worgen's relief was short-lived. All the hunter did was spit on his hand so that when they returned, they were slick with orc saliva as they glided back and forth over the worgen's length.

"I'll kill you! I. Will. Kill. You!" The worgen's threats kept coming, but the hunter all but ignored them. The damned orc chuckled and smirked as he worked on forcing the worgen's erection. Around them, more people had gathered to watch the show. The majority of them were orcs and most of them were laughing and talking with each other in orcish. Every now and then someone turned away with a disgusted expression, but not nearly as many as the worgen would expect in such an obscene public display. "Savages!" The worgen thought with anger.

"Mu rasgath'a il kagg, ag kef kazrethregas gesh ag" the hunter said to his companion, who laughed in turn. Jawhen didn't know and didn't care about what they were saying. All the worgen could do, however, was stare down at the orc's hand playfully stroking and playing with his malehood right there in the open for everyone to see.

"Regas ogar." The playful, sly smirk the damned orc had in his face when he said that worried the worgen. The hunter's hand working on his cock moved down to its base, then started giving his sheath a handful of small, light squeezes. It made the worgen gasp. His eyes grew wide, but his ears pinned themselves down against his head in embarrassment at the same time. The small bursts of pleasure he felt with the hunter stimulating his hidden knot directly were impossible to deny. They made his clawed toes curl, made him have to hold his breath for a second to avoid letting out sounds of pleasure. How did that orc even know about that?

And yet, he did. The orc's hand alternated between stroking his rock hard, veiny, pulsing member and going back down to squeeze and tease his knot. The worgen tried to stop it, he really did. He tried to growl, snarl and thrash at first, but that just brought even more laughter from the orc and the crowd around him. Then, he tried focusing as hard as he could into anything but the sensations around his manhood, but the jolts of pleasure induced by the orc's hand bolted through his body like lightning. They made him growl, but not with fury. The worgen could feel the instincts, the urge, the animal side in him fighting to act on the pleasure his body was receiving.

"Kil! No'ku ag ha! Tov'osh gesh g kazum! L kef ogg kil zaga L gul kagg kef kil lik ag!" As the orc spoke, his fingers finally forced the worgen's sheath further down exposing the large bulb of flesh at the base that had been growing within it. As the worgen's arousal got pushed further and further on, so did his knot grow as it would if he were actually fucking someone. The worgen's member throbbed in the air. The red, veiny canine length shown in full size.

"Rega ogar oger kef. Mu regas re'ka." The orc at the hunter's side looked up at him and Jawhen met his eyes with fury burning in his.

"I will crush you and every damned orc in this entire city!" The worgen growled down at them both. He knew his threats weren't helping his cause, but at that point he felt... too many things. He was angry at the orc hunter, he was embarrassed for having his most private parts on display like that and, most of all, he was fucking horny. Jawhen's human side knew he had to control himself, lest his animalistic side would take over, but the orc was making it damn hard to do that. He glanced down at his own cock, knot out and everything, and he knew that it would take a while for his member to go back down to his sheath after the knot had grown past it. He cursed the orc with every word he knew inside his head.

Nothing he did made any difference, bound as he was. The orc's eyes were up on him with that damned smug smirk of amusement. His fingers worked effortlessly over his cock, but with his knot grown and out in the open they sped up the stroking. One more time the orc spit on his hand and, as much as Jawhen hated having orc spit smeared on his cock, when the hunter's hand closed in a tight grip around his member to stroke up and down he couldn't hold back a groan. It felt just like fucking something tight.

The worgen's breath was coming faster. He still growled, snarled, showed his teeth and every now and then tried to turn his hips away from the orc to force him to stop, but the pleasure that coursed through his body was overwhelming. Sometimes the orc's hand would go all the way down, then the bastard would spread his little finger just a little to wrap it around the top of his knot and stimulate it a little. The small squeezes around the sensitive base of his canine member made his mind go crazy with a need to feel more. The worgen was doing everything he could to hold back, keep himself from showing any signs of enjoyment over the humiliating treatment, but there were some things he just couldn't control.

"Va kil akkor!" The orc announced. Jawhen saw the orc take a small step to the side to let others see what he meant. Laughter followed as everyone got to see the first small drops of precum coming from the tapered tip of his member. The orc even stopped the stroking for a few moments so that everyone could see the tendril it formed as it slowly dripped down towards the ground. The worgen was somewhat glad he couldn't understand all the sneers and insults that were thrown at them from the horde members gathered around. They all found it pretty damn funny, the hunter included, when the orc hunter's pet worg saw the drop of precum hitting the ground and went down to sniff at and, ultimately, lick it off the ground.

The worgen didn't have to understand their language to know they were drawing comparisons between the two of them. It angered him even more.

"I'm as much a wolf as you are a PIG you dirty, savage bag of-HNGH!" As the worgen started to insult the orc with rage, the hunter simply responded by wrapping his fingers around his fully grown knot and giving it a bit of a harder squeeze. The burst of pleasure that came from it surprised even the worgen himself, making his words fade into a shameful whine while his cock let out a small burst of precum in reaction to it. The squeeze ended as fast as it had begun, but much to the worgen's embarrassment his hips thrusted forward in a completely instinctual move. An impulse to drive his knot in. To tie with his bitch.

"Regas kil," the hunter said bellow him, laughing. This time Jawhen was able to ignore it. He was panting, but he also felt his face burning with embarrassment over his own actions. He was starting to realize that he needed to find a way to stop the orc or else he might not be able to keep his impulses in check. His whole body felt like it was trembling with adrenaline. He realized that he had been straining against the chains, that he felt a craving to rip those manacles apart and not turn around and run away, but to find something to stick his cock into and fuck as hard as he could until he could shove his knot in all the way and fill it with his seed.

"No!" The worgen thought. He had to fight it. He wouldn't let that orc do that to him! He needed to stop it. He needed to get them away so he could go back to opening that lock, then he could run. He could use the back exit of Orgrimmar to escape, then he could-

The worgen's clear trail of thought was crudely interrupted when he felt the orc's slick fingers wrap around his member again. He growled, a growl that was half rage, half lust when the orc resumed the stroking over his pulsing member.

The worgen tried to keep himself together. He tried with all of his might to keep his mind focused, but he found himself gritting his large teeth, the muscles under the dark fur of his arms and legs bulging as he forced against the manacles that kept them bound to the tree. With each stroke, the orc teased his knot a little further, always making it look like he was about to tie with something. It drove the worgen crazy. He found himself snarling down at the orc, but this time his subconscious mind was furious that the orc wouldn't let him tie with that hand like he wanted- no, like he needed to.

Precum came from the worgen's tip more often, oozing down slowly towards the ground. The orc had one hand on the worgen's lowered pants while the other worked on his cock. He felt pleasure radiating from his malehood, the urge to fuck, to stick his knot into something, to cum! That urge kept growing, then gnawing on him as it was ready to happen, but the orc just wouldn't provide him enough to reach the breaking point his instincts craved. Always just a finger teasing his knot, always just a light squeeze and then nothing else. It was driving him crazy! The worgen was barely aware of all the eyes that were on him anymore. It was all about him, his cock, his need and that gods-forsaken, cursed, damned orc teasing him with those big green fingers.

The more needy the worgen grew, the more frustrated he got. He snarled with such wild rage that small strands of drool ran down the sides of his muzzle. When the orc's hand failed to provide him the final touch he needed to reach the pleasure he craved, he started jutting his hips forward towards it to get that hand to go further down. The orc noticed that, said something in orcish the worgen couldn't even register, then started countering it by pulling his hand further away from the worgen's cock with each stroke. With anger, the worgen continued to thrust forward until his hips were going as far as they could reach to keep those fingers around his cock. The laughter that surrounded him barely even reached his ears.

The worgen was too lost in it to talk. When the orc's fingers left his pulsing, throbbing member altogether he snarled with the fury of a rabid wolf. He pulled on the chains holding him as hard as he could, but though the tree behind him did creak under his strength, it wasn't enough to break steel. The orc hunter took a step to the side no longer standing in front of him, but instead letting his pulsing member and engorged knot hanging there for all to see.

The worgen's chest rose up and down in tandem with his heavy breathing. With no further stimulation he managed to grasp what little of his mind as he could so that some human clarity returned to him. His angry eyes trailed through the crowd watching him. So many orcs, trolls, tauren and even goblins. From armored Orgrimmar grunts to shopkeepers, they had all come to see the little show the hunter was putting up. And he was the main attraction.

Shame fell upon him right away. He was still angry, of course, and he had indeed every intention of twisting his daggers back and forth into the hunter's back as soon as he got out of there, but the way they all stared at him, or rather, at his pulsing, dark red member, made him feel an undeniable wave of humiliation. He shouldn't have let himself give in to his instincts. He should've fought harder. And yet, it didn't seem like the orc was done yet.

"Ogar ha, revash tov'osh gi mog Ro'th, ha kaz ha Ragath'a kil ha! Revash! Revash gesh kaz nogah!" The hunter's voice was loud. He sounded proud as he addressed the crowd. Jawhen growled in response since he assumed the orc was bragging about tormenting him.

"Kil nogu gesh zaga revash, grom gul ka ro'th rega nogah koz'zela gi ogar!" The hunter looked up and him and grinned. The worgen's eyes narrowed towards him, but no amount of threatening growling could keep the orc's hand from returning to his hard member. The orc grabbed his member sideways this time, but much to the worgen's surprise he also didn't just wrap his hand around his length to stroke it. He didn't tease it, but instead the orc's big fingers wrapped themselves tight around his large knot and gave it a hard squeeze over and behind the large bulb of flesh while the orc's thumb rubbed the underside of his member.

The effect came crashing down over the worgen like a wave. With his pleasure still so close to the peak, with his sensitive knot gripped hard like that, it gave him everything he needed. Even in his clarity, he couldn't keep himself from jutting his hips forward once, twice, then letting out a long, drawn out gasp that turned into a whine of pure pleasure midway through it when he felt himself going past the point of no return.

Right there in the middle of the Orgrimmar, his member started pulsing, then the first powerful jet of worgen spunk came out arching up in the air until it hit the city's dusty ground. As the shameful pleasure washed over him, all the worgen could do was squirm and twist in his bonds while jet after jet of worgen spunk painted the ground beneath him white.

At first the rising sound of laughter and applause felt distant. His orgasm ripped through him, but as the last weak spurts of cum came to slowly ooze down his knotted length and the high of his pleasure started to wind down, the worgen became painfully aware of all the eyes set on his exposed member. The worgen growled again, but it was a weak growl tainted by his embarrassment.

The orc slowly loosened the grip around the worgen's knot, then let go of his member altogether. He gave the worgen's cock a playful flick, making the hard member bounce back and forth in the air. The bound worgen grunted as he felt the touch on his oversensitive member, then growled at the orc as menacingly as he could. He would remember that damned orc's face no matter what.

"Mog ogar kagg thrakk gul'nath g ogerin ogg ha mog regas throm'ka ogra nuk re'ka kil ogerin'naz," the orc said with a laugh towards the other horde members. They had a positive response to whatever he had said. As the hunter turned away to leave with his buddy, the crowd also started to disperse. The show was apparently over.

The worgen, however, pulled at his chains. His pants were still around his knees and his cock was still hard and throbbing. With his knot out and after cumming he knew it would take at least half an hour for it to even start shrinking back down to his sheath. He snarled towards the orc. "Wait! You damned green ape! Pull my pants up!"

Both orcs glanced back at him and laughed.

"Mu regas ki throm maza gi," the old orc said towards the hunter. Jawhen was glad he had at least translated it this time. Or at least he assumed so.

"Nogu kef zuk il kazum. Rega ka maza il thok zaga kef re'ka ro'th," the hunter said towards the other orc.

"He say you can be calm. He will play with you more soon." The older orc seemed glad to translate it back. With that, both orcs turned away from him and continued on their path. The worgen pulled at his chains again, growling as loud as he could.

"Tell him he'll DIE the next time he sees me! Both of you will! ALL of you!"

It was hopeless. The orcs didn't pay him any mind, so the rogue was left panting and chained at the heart of the orc city just as he was before, except now with his pants lowered and his knotted member on full display. He watched both orcs walk away. He stared at the hunter's shirtless back. No, Jawhen wouldn't kill him when he got his hands on him. The worgen had different plans for revenge hatching in his mind.

He'd have to find a way out of there first, though, and that no longer felt as easy as he had previously thought it'd be. After the orc's little show the other horde members were much more prone to approaching and touching him. Jawhen didn't get ten minutes of peace before a group of trolls decided that it would be fun to make him squirm with discomfort while they toyed with his oversensitive member. As the sun continued to rise in the horizon, more people walked by to gaze at his shame. To enjoy the trophy of the orcs' triumph.