FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Grast yawned as he awoke, stretching his arms, the rattle of his chains a background noise he had long ago become accustomed. The stench of horse however was not so easy to accommodate. His many charges, and his Master's many chargers, had signalled the rising of the sun with a lifting of tails. Dung, it stunk and as an orc he would know, his nose was far more sensitive than most. His people didn't keep horses, battle tigers or wargs were far better mounts; faster, smarter and far more agile. Their shit stank too but when he was a warmaster that hadn't mattered, that was grunt work.

Peace, ha! What a waste, his people knew there would be no lasting peace. However, when the one-horns joined the humans in their campaign there had been no choice. The orc peoples were strong, belligerent as well, but not stupid. A war on two fronts was beyond them and they knew it. So they had sued for peace and Grast's chains had been the price, the cost and the payments for the crimes of his father.

King, that is not an orc term his father had been ruler, Gnash the beheader a beast in battle and more. He had waged war against the alliance, reclaimed miles of the orcs tribal lands. The pinkskins had broken before the might of the green brutes. Grast had rode on Nrile, his mighty tiger white in colour with bloodred stripes. It had been glorious. Then his father took a step too far, took one too many liberties with a prisoner. It was his right as an orc and victor, but breeding the human prince in front of his defeated men... apparently that was some sort of insult.

The minotaurs had pulled their support, stepping aside to allow the humans to strike from two sides. Then the pinkskins had convinced the single horns to join them. Their magic proved too much, even the greatest orc shamen Rast the Incorrigible had been unable to stand his ground. Caught between the anvil of their magic and the hammer of the human armies, Gnash had been forced to beg for peace.

The price had been heavy, the lands they had reclaimed were taken back. Prime farmland was taken, his people would struggle for food come winter. The last demand had been to bring the orc king to his knees, to give his only son into a life of slavery. Grast would have rather they kill him, no matter how slow, how painful his death it would be better than this life. Shovelling horse dung in the stables of the one-horn king, not fighting back when they insulted him. To live a life as an object of ridicule, it was no life. However, the peace was conditional on his slavery, if he tried to escape, refused an order or killed himself his people would pay in blood. Proud and mighty his people were, they would recover and rebuild, become strong again. They needed time to do so, maybe his entire life, the orc prince would give them all. For his tribe, for his people.

A mighty hand grabbed a shovel, the work was easy and that somehow made this worse. Put him in the arena, make him battle everyday and he would be happy. Send him to hunt the ice-bears of the frozen north armed only with a small knife for peeling fruit and he would rejoice. Give him a shovel and point at a pile of dung... there was no honour in this, no sport, no challenge and no fun.

The morning's work passed easily enough. Horses were easy to deal with, shovel, feed brush and shovel again. Grast worried his powerful muscles would soon waste away, he tried to fend of his deterioration by lifting the anvil in the tiny blacksmith's forge attached to the stables, for making and fitting horseshoes. He was a brute by all but orc and minotaur standards, seven foot of pure muscle. Olive green skin with this black hair. Golden eyes, a rare colour for orcs a good luck sign, though his current predicament was anything but a sign of the truth of that old hags tale.

His hooves were jet black and far larger than those of the beasts he saw to every day. Thus had been his life for the last six months. The first few days had been the worse, paraded through towns in chains like some weak beast. People had mocked him, thrown rotten fruit and vegetables at him. That was an insult, but the single-horn king had done worse. He had made the orc kneel, in front of his army, the warmaster Grast had polished the hooves of the King and Queen.

Vengeance, it would be his for such dishonour. That is what the pinkskins and single-horns did not understand. To have been fucked, to have been bred, was what he owed as the defeated. That he would have taken as no insult. It is a matter of superiority, they had proven superior, although in numbers only, they deserved to fuck him publicly as a sign of their victory. However, to shame him, to refuse to take him and force him to degrade himself with the muck from their hooves; blood would be the price for such actions.

As the day wore on many lords and ladies came and went. Most spoke to him as a thing, they gave commands and scorn in equal measure. None were a match for him, the orc daydreamed of beating the males, tying them down alive so they could hear the pleasured sounds as he taught their females what real sex was. Of course he never raised a hand in anger, not to insults, smacks, spit or worse.

This day was different though. A one-horn that Grast had never seen before entered alone. The orc took in his scent quickly, young but adult probably near twenty winters in age. Slender bearing, even orc children had more muscle than this slender mare, though it was male from the scent, his plump hips gave it a feminine grace. Jet black fur which gave a stark contrast to his white fetlocks and horn. Dressed in loose white cotton clothing robes with golden trim. The sign on his chest of a lion rearing up to meet a one horn gave away his position. He was royalty, only they wore those robes, unlike Grast who was in the same leather loincloth he had worn for the last four years. It was still strong and would give many more years service.

"P...please can you prepare n..number six, Sir?" The young male's voice quivered as he spoke, his emerald eyes unwilling to look the beast in the face. Grast smiled at being called Sir, the tiny thrill of being in command once more, it awoke the brutal war orc inside him, if only for a moment.

The orc nodded his head and moved to number six, then he stopped. Number six was a bad tempered stallion, kept for breeding mares, he was an animal only the strongest knights ever asked for him and few ever did so twice. "One-horn sure want six?" He normally would let the boy take the horse and all the bumps, kicks and bites that came with it. However,he had called him sir and said please.

"Y...yes, I am s...starting my w...war riding training today. Sir Jurst s... said he was the best horse to l...learn on," the young one horn's voice was trembling with fear and uncertainty. The orc knew Jurst, a brute of a man, or one-horn, such a man would take delight in the humiliation of a young man, especially a royal. Fool, there was no sport in humiliating those weaker than you.

"Hmmmp," the orc stood with saddle in hand for a moment and then he made a decision. The saddle was thrown onto number Six's back then, as he attached the bridal, the orc snacthed the horse's ear, not gently. The beast neighed in anger, but had learned long ago not to mess with the orc, he was not subtle and very quick to anger. Unicorn mounts were smarter than the average horse.

"If you buck or hurt him I will eat your nuts for my last meal, you know Grast can," the orc growled menacingly into the beast's ear and then leaned close going eye to eye with the stallion. A snort and shake of its head was the reply. Grast took that as agreement and led the horse out.

The young unicorn looked up at the huge beast in wonder and gulped. He was not even six foot tall if you didn't count the two-foot of horn. The orc smiled and laced his fingers holding his hands down for the young male to use as a step. The look of gratitude on the young male's face was enough reward. With a smile the young unicorn put his hoof in the orc's hands, stepping up a little too eagerly his young crotch grinding into Grast's face, the feel of rough beard and fangs made the creature whinny softly in embarrassment.

"T...thank you Sir," the young male muttered and then spurred the horse on. Number Six clearly wished for his huge nuts to remain hanging where they were, for he took off at a gentle canter. As the two left Grast watched with a smile that broadened to a grin. The smell in his lungs was of an aroused male, the young royal wanted him. A chance for fun and vengeance, if that didn't give him a reason to get up in the morning nothing would.

Of course Grast was a good hunter, he knew far better than to run down his prey when he got a whiff of it. You had to hunt, to watch and wait for the perfect moment. So he made it his task to hunt this young male, whoever he was this pure blood royal was going to taste and feel his cock. The orc was going to rut six months of frustration and embarrassment out on that equine's plump feminine ass. What was more the little bitch was going to love it. If he had to be a prisoner, a slave, he would show his master's that a true male cannot be contained or tamed.

The young royal returned hours later,face alight with joy. His fellow students had been unable to believe his mastery of the unmasterable. Sir Jurst had been annoyed and that alone was a delight for the orc. Taylor, for that was the young male's name, had spoken to Grast for half an hour of his joy. The orc had listened and encouraged the boy, showing him how to brush the horse down afterwards. That meant both going into the stall together.

With the horse filling most of the space and the orc the rest, Taylor had to squeeze in, right in front of Grast. The lithe body grinding up against the orc, the scent of ripe stallion filled the orc's nose. There was a mare grinding on him, it took all he had not to push the boy up against the wall and rail him until he milked every drop of single-horn spunk from his nuts.

The next few days the young unicorn returned and the orc befriended him more, touching him often. With each visit the young prince, indeed the king's son himself, got closer to the orc. Grast taught him some fighting skills and moves. Soon the boy was reaching out to him,the scent of his arousal grew with each visit. Grast held back though, his prey had been sighted and tracked, all he was waiting for was the perfect moment to make a killing blow.

That came sooner than he expected when Sir Jurst announced the prince had been entered into a tournament. Far too young and too early in his training the young prince, with Grast's help, recognised that for what it was; a chance for the young princeling to humiliate himself. In desperation the young man sought out the help of his orc friend.

Grast was all too willing to help, suggesting the young male sneak out after lights out to train with the orc. The young man was weak by Grast's standards, but there was a determination in his eyes the orc found admirable. The two sparred and the orc gave him much praise, clashing again and again. For a moment he felt it; the beat of his warrior's heart, the taste of strength and combat again.

The orc picked up the pace laughing as they circled,the equine's scent changing. The arousal remained, but a hint of fear crept in and Grast drank it up, with a charge he ducked the unicorn's clumsy swing his shoulder catching the unicorn in the chest and sending him to the floor his sword skittering away. As the young man went to rise up a huge orc hoof landed on his chest pushing down. The price's white robes were stained black with the hoof of the brute towering above him.

Taylor looked up at his friend in the dim light and trembled, the beast had him alone, after dark and at his mercy. He could hear the orc's deep bestial growls and snarls as he towered over him and then as he looked up his eyes saw it. The light of the moon reflecting off a nearby water-trough was just enough to illuminate under Grast's loincloth.

What the unicorn beheld was glorious, a green horn thick and mighty, standing erect and proud from a pair of heavy green nuts. The beast was aroused and the equine blushed deeply as he felt his cock drop out if its sheath. There was no doubt in his mind what he wanted, ever since he first caught a smell of the orc he had thought of being with him.

His erection did not escape the sharp eyes of the orc. Grast suddenly reached down, the weight of his hoof left the prince's chest as the beast pulled him to his hooves like he weighed no more than a leaf. An aroused orc does not ask, he takes and that is what Grast did. Taking the prince's lips, with his own. Thick wiry orc beard grinding into soft equine velvet while orc tongue wormed its way into his mouth.

Flavours of must and rank, the taste of old lion flooded the unicorn's hungry muzzle. He lost himself to the taste, to the feel of that orc body grinding so lewdly against his. His hand was taken by a green one and then pushed to a throbbing and hot rod. A deep growl from the beast in front of him made him grasp hold of the meat, it was so thick he could barely keep it in his paw.

His fingers danced up and down the hot green pole, tracing the throbbing veins,his nose was flooded with the musk and rancor of a beast in heat. He knew that the orc was going to take him. Taylor wondered what the others would say, his father, mother, the lords and ladies. What would they think of their prince before their slave, sucking him and then laying under him. What amazed him most was how little he cared, the orc wanted him and he wanted it far more. Fuck, manners, fuck studies and most importantly fuck the bride his father had chosen for him. He wanted the thick meat in his hand, he wanted to taste it, to feel it and learn every inch as well as he had learned his own.

Clammy night air tugged at his fur as the orc stripped his clothes, he offered no resistance. His own erection hanging and throbbing unattended. However, it didn't last long, orc hands landed on his shoulder and pushed down firmly. The beast's strength was far superior to his own and he was forced down to his knees. "Suck!" The word was barked with authority, the prince had never heard anyone so sure give commands. Even his father and his generals had some doubt in their voice when giving orders. This brute had none, fish will swim, birds will fly, unicorn princes will suck orc cock. It was Grast's word and that made it law.

Snarling with impatience Grast reached out grabbing the young male's mane firmly he forced him forward. Taylor didn't fight, hell he went willingly opening his mouth and letting that mighty shaft slip between his lips. Long equine muzzles are good for some things, as Grast proved by thrusting forward hard hilting his aching meat between those all too willing lips. He had his prey at his mercy and he would have his fill. Smiling down the orc admired the sight of his master's firstborn on his knees, the orc's cock between his lips. Sliding the meat back and forth the brute savoured Taylor's every soft sigh and pleasured moan. His enemies child, delighting in the taste of his cock.

Oh and what a taste unpleasantly musky to start, the unicorn's tongue wormed over the thrusting maleness. The taste becoming nutty and oaky as his saliva washed the stud's cock clean. Taylor sucked and gulped hungrily loving the taste, the roughness of the male breeding his lips. Huge orc orbs smacking lewdly off his chin, the stench of the male's ripeness being ground into his nose with each powerful thrust. He wanted more, he needed more, nothing else mattered. He suckled hungrily and his reward was faster and rougher thrusting. The orc's fingers gripping his mane so tightly an escape was impossible, it hurt too yet the pain was nothing, it was worth it to taste such a beast.

Six months of being a slave Grast could not control himself he growled and snarled, fucking the prince's mouth harder than he had any whore or conquest. He bred him like an animal as the feeling of pleasure flooded his body. Then he stifled a dominant roar as his cock erupted, gobs of orc spunk flooded the unicorn's muzzle. A huge green hand grabbed the prince's horn and Grast commanded,"drink!"

The command was not needed, yet the fact it was given only drove the prince to greater heights of lust. With powerful gulps he swallowed every drop of the thick orc cream, his lips milking the cock until the flow ceased. Taylor wondered what was next, but he didn't need to wonder for long he was dragged, by his horn, into the stables and pushed onto a straw-bale.

Landing on his back the prince whinnied softly in his nervousness. Only for thick orc lips to quieten him, a strong hand gripped his shaft and started to jerk the hot pony flesh fast. The orc was a master with any weapon and the young man had no skill with which to defend. As he kissed and revelled in the forbidden dark pleasure of the beast his cock began to spray, jets of royal spunk landing in the straw and onto an outstretched orc palm.

His prey milked of its strength and seed Grast stood up, reaching down to his cock and spreading the warm horse cum over the green meat. The shaft glistened in the moonlight as Taylor looked up at his lover, trembling with both nerves and desire. The equine licked its lips and Grast smiled, his chains rattling as his manacled hands reached down to grab two slender ankles.

Taylor gasped as his knees were forced into his chest by the brute. The orc bent him double and then he felt it, the burning heat of the orc cock as it sought his forbidden entrance. He knew he could shout, call for help and it may come. Looking up all he could see was golden eyes focused on him, he shuddered at the lust and intensity of that gaze. The orc wanted him, lusted after him and that made Taylor all the more determined.

Grast was not gentle, thrusting forward with all the brute strength of his beastly form. His thick meat speared the young stallion open easily and Taylor whimpered at the pain of that entrance. A huge hand stroked his cheek softly, with far more tenderness than the orc had shown before, "shhhh, good mare.... Relax Grast breed good." The young prince blushed at being called mare, yet he knew he that was exactly what he was. The orc's mare, his willing and desperate bitch.

If there was one thing the young orc prince had a lot of experience with it was making someone feel good with his cock. How many human females, and males, had started out proud and defiant, only to end up on their knees begging him for just one more fuck before they were released? He had lost count. If they had been good prisoners he gave it to them, or if the female was in season. A tribe of half orc bastards owed their lives to how good their father was with his cock. This mare was no different to any others he had bred, a little tenderness after the roughness, it caught them by surprise made them more receptive. Soon he began to thrust, slowly at first letting the pony feel every inch of this thick orcness. The green rod probing until it hit a spot that made the boy whinny like a mare in heat.

His target locked the hunter let loose with the final volley. Growling and snarling as he fucked the one-horn boy fast and brutally. The stench of horse in his lungs as he bred a whinnying mare. Thick orc cock reamed an equine prostate, driving pleasure unknown through the young male's body. There was nothing Taylor could do he lay still his mind awash with waves of sexual delight he had never known before. His balls ached and throbbed, his cock screamed at him to stroke it, he needed to cum.

As the unicorn reached for his shaft Grast smirked and struck, snacking both of the young male's wrists in one meaty hand and pinning them above his head. His thrusting never stopped, in fact it increased the orc cock smashing again and again into his prostate. The pressure building and building, his mind and body both screamed the pleasure was too much. Release he needed release and then suddenly the thrusting stopped.

Taylor screamed out in primal need struggling desperately, but the beast held him down and then growled,"beg, mare, beg."

"I am the crown prince of..." Taylor whimpered with a desperate attempt at resistance.

"No! You mare! On my cock! Where you belong, now beg or no more," Grast snarled leaning down to lick slowly up the young prince's long neck, tasting his mare with delight.

Every lesson he had ever learned battled in Taylor's mind, with every primitive instinct in his body. The need to cum, to rut with an animal winning out over his education. "Please fuck me, please Sir."

With a snarl of triumph Grast gave the mare what he begged for, grinning lewdly as he fucked with such brutal strength and speed Taylor could barely even squeal. The brute's hard thrusts forcing the air out of his lungs. The beast held his hands firmly and he knew all he could do was submit and hope Grast would let him cum. Smacking of orc hips on unicorn ass filled the stables, the grunts and moans of a beast rutting, mixing with the whines of a bitch being bred.

The orc revelled in his lover's subjugation, the equine was his. Not just for tonight, the boy would crave more, he knew that he would. He would creep back again and again, the orc would take him again and again. This unicorn would be his pet, his bitch, his mare and distraction. With a squeal Taylor felt the orc hit his prostate once more, the feel of the beast above him, the cock inside him, the smack of orc nuts on his ass they all combined into the most wonderful and gloriously filthy moment of the prince's young life.

With a roar of triumph Grast felt his new mare's ass growing tight around his cock and his nose filled with the scent of stallion spunk. In his victory he fucked with wild abandon until his own cock erupted and thick jets of orc cream were shot deep into his young mare. He pulled out before the end covering the young male with his seed and stench, marking him as his property and lover.

The two kissed and caressed in the straw bed and Taylor was taken several more times before the sun rose. Grast was gratified when night after night the young man came back for more. He made the horny male beg, he made him lick his hooves clean and spanked him roughly when he argued. The prince for his part loved the rough treatment, he loved his orc master and the two hatched a plot for his escape.

The prince agreeing to his wedding he chose the orc as a gift, which meant by leaving with the prince he was not escaping. There could be no retribution on his people. The two eloped shortly afterwards, fleeing to the city of Krasta.

It was months before Taylor's former wife gave birth to the final insult. A half-orc child, instead of a new heir, the prince had snuck the orc's fresh cum into her with his mouth before sex and faked all his orgasms. After all what mare could compare to his master's cock.The king and his daughter-in-law never told anyone, claiming the child died in birth rather than admit a fine lady had been defiled by an orcish animal.

If you enjoyed this story please consider buying my first book details can be found in my https://www.sofurry.com/view/945905 journal It's a sweet romance story with some steamy chapters and some art by Edesk

If you want to support this hard working writer bear you can do so at my Patreon account here https://www.patreon.com/sisco

Or you can send my a tip by following the link below