Razasha the Horny, Chapter three, Peeping Toms and Pebble Pools

[Zapan99]

Razasha’s back was killing her, and her poor naked feet were getting calloused from the jagged rocks scattered on that potholed human road. The dwarven shield maiden Freya didn’t lie, when she said she would make a nice pack mule. Now more or less “enrolled” as a hireling of the Slay Belles, that all-female roving party of adventurers specialized in monster castration, the towering orc vixen had been assigned to provision duty. Her broad green back, already strained by the daily struggle of supporting her ridiculously voluptuous breasts, was now laden with the group’s bedrolls, cooking ware, food preserves, various supplies, spare clothes and traps, and it was without taking in account the weight of the waterskins and the small keg of ale she opted to carry in saltire, strapped to her sore shoulders, as a way to prop up her hefty bosom that was barely contained by a flimsy leather top she crafted herself, years before her forced exile from her clan. Teasing her about the similitude between her jiggly mounds of green meat, and the rippling goat waterskins they were resting on, Aelith the diminutive elf sorcerer compared her kit to the rows of teats on a nursing sow, and started to mischievously call her “water sow” each time she felt like having a drink. The joke quickly backfired, when Frigg, the party’s berserker and Freya’s twin sister, pointed out Aelith herself looked like Razasha’s suckling piglet, when she quenched her thirst directly at the spout, her pointy nose nested in the orc girl’s bosom.

Since the group had left the burning border forest where Razasha had become magically enthralled to the elf waif, the orc girl had adjusted rather rapidly to her new wandering life. Even if she was teased mercilessly by the shortstack adventurers for being a lewd airhead that lived under a rock until now, she was rapidly getting the hang of things, almost like a bright-eyed toddler discovering the world. A six foot tall green-skinned toddler with ginormous tits and the sex drive of a rabbit, mind you, but on the intellectual level quite comparable. Her learning was facilitated by two factors: First, Aelith the elf sorcerer was quite a blabbermouth, happy to instruct her new pet on all sorts of wondrous topics, with fancy words the poor Razasha didn’t quite always fully understand, but with a melodious voice that to her ears of simple orc girl sounded like the incessant chirping of a nightingale. And second, the stern dwarven twins that often took advantage of the magic scarab fused to her neck, that caused her to relive the humiliating pain of a mighty cuntbust each time Aelith the elf was in danger. The glowing cursed artefact also triggered when Razasha wandered too far from the sorcerer, hence why Freya the shield maiden referred to it as her “bitch leash.” Thus like a good pack mule, Razasha the Horny behaved as much as she could, abiding both the carrot and the stick, for fear of feeling an all too familiar shooting pain ravage her most supple loins. 

Recently, both Aelith and the twins experimented with unexpected side-effects of the pain scarab. In the dead of night, Aelith would go for a stroll, pretexting a pressing biological need to the party member on guard duty, to leisurely take her time in the moonlight a bit too far away from the camp, while poor Razasha would wake up experiencing devastating vaginal cramps. To the surprise of the elf, the orc girl became quite astute at finding her in the obscurity, using the differing levels of pain in her aching ovaries to pinpoint her mistress, as if the two were playing a sick game of Blind Man’s Buff, that the mischievous elf quickly renamed as Green Woman’s Box. As for the twins, they quickly discovered that even threatening the elf with immediate violence sufficed to activate the scarab’s glow, although to a lesser intensity. “Yer would make da perfect bodyguard, if ye weren’t so clumsy, green slut!” once commented Freya, in what sounded like a backhanded compliment from the dwarf. Her more calculating twin sister Frigg, on the other hand, noticed that some nights, the elf would use the same excuse to scamper off a bit less far, before the scarab clinging on the sleeping orc girl’s neck would start to glow blue instead of red. Those occurrences were followed by muffled moans from the green vixen, that was experiencing an induced wet dream, caused by her elf mistress bashful masturbatory escapades. 

The two dwarven sisters knew that their haughty elf partner could only go for so long before frigging herself with what she insisted was “only” a purple magic wand, even if her high elven nature allowed her to cast spells without the help of any focus device. In reality, they knew that both her prissy attitude and disdain for non-elven folks meant she had quite a miserable sex life, for someone enjoying her natural charisma. By a cruel twist of fate, the arcane connection between the elf mistress and her orc thrall seemed insufficient for the horny green vixen to reach climax. Maybe this was caused by their obvious size difference, but what sufficed to satisfy the dainty elf waif left the towering orc vixen wanting. Usually, when the unsuspecting Aelith returned relaxed after her midnight diddling, it was to find the frustrated Razasha, waking up confused and still moist from a strange dream in which flaxen-haired elven studs discharged load after load in her mouth. Too honest to even think about not confessing those dirty thoughts out loud still in a daze, and too naive to understand those elven fantasies belonged to the psyche of her diminutive mistress, the telepathically acquired confessions of the bed-headed orc girl soon became the source of entertainment of the dwarven twins, who made sure to ask her every juicy detail before Aelith returned to the camp, only to make the waif blush beet-red to her ears when they crudely reenacted scenes from her deepest secret fantasies, each time she acted prissy. The sorcerer sometimes felt so humiliated by the jerking-off and oral sex gestures of the dwarves, that she resorted to pinch her own nipples between her long nails, to punish poor Razasha with a cruel jolt of cooch pain delivered by her glowing scarab pendant. “Next time, you’ll keep your stupid mouth shut, you fat-tittied snitch!”

The party was now approaching the first human settlement on the border with the wildlands. The patchy gravel road they were following for a couple of days now started to broaden and look more trodden, with some sections paved with broad flagstones that were easier on poor Razasha’s sore feet. From what the simple orc girl could gather from the Slay Belles, they were entering a human land called Tedora, a kingdom it was, something akin to the territory of a clan, but bigger and with more people. It was defended by big stone huts called cass-huls or something like that. What really interested Razasha was the humans that lived therein. She had yet to meet one of them, even if the telepathic wet dreams she shared with her elven mistress Aelith sometimes included young human studs doing unspeakable things to both of them. The curious orc vixen prodded the adventurers incessantly with questions concerning those humans, that she only knew as torch-bearing farmers that rebuffed the raids of her orc clan. According to the dwarf sisters, they were gangly weaklings that lived in crooked houses, only good for tilling the fields and grow hops for ale, but not much else. According to her elf mistress, they were the last-born race, down the line from the high elves. Short-lived and foolishly prudish, humans were just good as a source of entertainment and profit. All of that did nothing to reassure Razasha, who started to feel anxious about being a lonely and very squishy orc, walking willy-nilly into hostile territory.

Later that day, the Slay Belles arrived to a ford crossing the calm river that ran alongside the road for a couple of miles. Near a fork in the road, the first human signage was visible, indicating two village names in squiggly letters that to naive Razasha looked like nothing more than grubworm trails carved on a plank. Freya judged that the small gravel bar below, with fresh water pools resting in the shade of poplar trees would make the perfect stopover. “Let’s get down to da river and hav’ a break. We all need to freshen up a bit, lest we scare the innkeeper down the road!” Razasha was more than happy to dip her sore feet in the river, unballasting herself of the whole party’s wares, she started to massage her sore shoulders. “Please hand me da toiletries, Razasha.” said Frigg, already undressing herself, her dwarven plate armor neatly arranged on a low branch. In comparison, her sister Freya had carelessly scattered her equipment in a messy trail leading to the nearest pool, while shouting, “Last one in da water is a smelly troll!” said the buck naked dwarf, already splashing her ample freckled tits. “I wanted to get rid of that pig grease in my hair since we neutered that minotaur.” added Frigg, already oiling up her scraggly red mane, hunched over a pool with her curvy dwarven buttocks poking out behind her, like a large harvest moon. Razasha was suddenly titillated by the shameless nudity of her colleagues, and her consequent erect nipples clearly betrayed her emotion, when Aelith let her purple robes fall around her ankles, to reveal her pale diaphane figure in the dappled light filtering between the trees. Her flat stomach, narrow hips and dainty breasts serving as a stark contrast for the dwarf twins heavy assets. “Come wash my hair, my dear Razasha!” said the elf waif while her perfectly hairless body slowly entered one of the shallow pools.

The orc girl didn’t have to be asked twice. With all the care in the world, she started to oil up her mistress flaxen hair and pale body with her big green hands, while the elf waif admired herself in her travel mirror. “There’s three of them, unarmed teenagers and quite ugly, even for country humans.” commented Aelith, still looking at herself in her mirror, that also happened to be pointed at the opposite bank of the river. “Aye, young wankers waiting for a show, nothin’ to worry about.” answered Freya, while vigorously scrubbing her armpits with a bar of soap, causing her wet melons to jiggle rhythmically. “I’m not so sure of that, they should already be pumping away at their pricks by now, but it seems Razasha is disturbing them.” “Me? I… mistress, are we in troubles because of me?” asked the naive orc girl, too honest to avoid glancing in the direction of the peeping toms, that huddled behind a bush on the steep bank across the river, totally convinced they were as stealthy as foxes. “Nooo, don’t fret my sweet Razasha, you see human males have two brains, one safely housed in their head, the other precariously dangling between their legs. All you need to do, is to make sure they only follow the later.” playfully answered Aelith, comfortably nested against her thrall’s pendulous green melons. With those words, she reached behind her, and lifted Razasha’s flimsy leather top, causing an avalanche of rippling orc titty meat. “Besides, I think my big smelly sow needs a good bath too!”

Oblivious to the diminutive elf’s soapy massage of her thrall’s voluptuous assets, the two dwarven girls, still scrubbing away at the accumulated grime on their freckled skin, observed discreetly the reaction of the human lads, peeping on them from the opposite river bank. Judging by their ragged garments and hazel wood fishing rods, they stumbled on the Slay Belles by chance, while on a fishing trip. It was unlikely that they would cause them troubles by rounding up other villagers down the road, roused by the news of a party of non-humans travelling with an orc, especially now that they were indeed thinking with their lower brains, and had throbbing wood of their own poking in their pants, transfixed as they were by the rippling mounds of green flesh tossed around by the elf. “Aye, now they’re not walking away before they nut in their own fists, that’s fer sure.” concluded Freya.

Razasha was seriously starting to feel hot and bothered. The soft little hands of her elf mistress were caressing her all around, jiggling, prodding and squishing all that she had of feminine voluptuousness, and to be fair, the orc girl had a cart load of it. The elf waif, continuing her vigorous cleaning, started to pull on Razasha’s dusty loincloth. “My big green sow really needs to get cleaned up, especially down there!” Understanding what the sorcerer was up to, Frigg handed her a stiff-bristled back brush with a long recurved maple handle, the kind that was a must for stout dwarves needing to reach every part of their anatomy. Protesting half-heartedly at being washed in front of strangers, Razasha moaned “Please, mistress, those lads are going to see everything!” Bending the sculptural orc girl over her dainty knees, she slapped her colossal green derriere, sending lovely ripples along her plump buttocks and hips. “I sure hope so, my dear!” playfully answered Aelith. Razasha failed to repress a moan of guilty pleasure, “Ahhnngg!”  On the other side of the river, the three teenagers had stopped thinking altogether, pumping away at their erect penises, pants around their ankles, while the bush around them shaked erratically.

Aelith, licking her luscious ruby lips with a wry smile while scrubbing gently on the ecstatic orc girl’s taint with the maple brush, devised a cunning way to get back at the dwarven twins for weaning her of mana-rich semen since they neutered the albino minotaur. She turned to Frigg, the most level-headed of the two, and while her fingers were spreading the orc girl’s intimacy to offer a better view to the sweaty peeping toms, she said, tentatively, “You know Frigg, once those three will reach self-bliss, there is nothing stopping them from running ahead of us with lighter balls, to tell everybody around we come with an orc in tow.” Frigg, still drying the underside of her hefty breasts with a linen towel, her luxurious red bush dripping between her thighs, lifted an inquisitive eyebrow, “What are ye getting at, elf?” Her fiery sister Freya, vigorously flossing her braided pubes back and forth with a towel, interjected, “Can’t ye tell? She wants a taste of their human nut juice.” Ashamed of being so easy to read, the haughty elf started to nervously scrub Razasha’s sleek green slit with a bit too much zeal. “Miiii-sss-tress, ahhn, you’re being too rough, ohhh!” said the almost orgasmic orc girl. “Hush now, you big green slut!” harshly protested Aelith, turning the sticky brush around to slap its flat maple head on Razasha’s plump ass cheeks. -SLAP, SLAP, SLAP- Clenching her fangs to repress a yelp, the poor orc girl immediately went silent, tantalizingly close to an explosive climax.

Trying to regain her composure, Aelith said, with a tone of urgency, “Once those three spill their seed in vain; which given their tender age is a matter of seconds now; they’re inevitably going to talk around, and because of the way you two dinguses insisted on depriving me of… of my much needed mana potions, I will not be able to use my most potent spells when those bumpkins will come for that big green oaf, brandishing their hay forks!” as if to make her point more clear, Aelith shoved the recurved handle of the back brush right up Razasha’s cooch, causing her unsuspecting slit to release a comical and sonorous queef, -VAART!- that earned both a surprised moan from the green vixen, and was enough to push one of the boys over the edge, his spunk shooting in thick youthful ropes all the way down to the river, with a delayed sploosh. “See?!” pestered the elf, annoyed at seeing good potion go to waste. Frigg shrugged and reached for clean underwear. “Whatever, suit yerself elf, it’s not like we can ever teach you responsibility.” said Frigg with an air of resignation.

Pushing Razasha off her lap without any regard for the aroused orc falling ass first in a pool of cold water, a wooden back brush still shoved up her cooch, the naked elf sorcerer cracked her fingers and started casting her last available cantrip. Before her pale waving hands, ghostly green disks covered in spinning cabalistic symbols appeared in mid-air, forming on her left side a cross-shaped pattern with a bulb sticking out in the middle she immediately grabbed onto, and on her right side a gaping portal churning with green energy, that she passed around her right wrist. “Finally, let’s do this!” said Aelith to herself, while a ghostly image of her right hand coalesced in front of her. Totally confused as to what was going on, a very frustrated Razasha was sitting naked with her ass dipping in frigid water, her orgasm totally ruined, with Frigg the dwarf above her saying, “Herm, I believe ye still have me back brush, orc.”

Totally focused on controlling her cantrip, Aelith was twitching and jittering her left hand in mid-air, to send the ghostly image of her right hand across the river, like some kind of magic claw machine. Before long, one of the still masturbating lads exclaimed, “Haa!! Something grabbed my dick!” to which the two others reacted by falling over pants down in the bushes, their lower brain not very apt at remembering you need to button your pants and quit touching your dick before trying to run away. The clumsiest of the three, Mr Premature Ejaculation that struggled even more given his cotton legs, tumbled all the way down to the river and landed flat on his balls, that made a sickening -SPLATT- sound when they hit a flat rock sitting just above the surface of the river. The poor lad curled up in fetal position, gasping for air, while trying not to drown in half a foot of water. His buddy late to cum was totally stuck, dick in the air rapidly going flaccid, while his ass was pricked by nettles and his clothes snagged on brambles. The third voyeur, let’s call him lucky lad, was treated to an expert mage handjob from the elf, and the expression on his spotty face quickly went from absolute terror at the sight of a ghostly hand grabbing his junk, to confused bliss at seeing the dainty elf girl air-jerk his cock from the opposite bank of the river. “That’s right, be a good boy and come for meeee!” said Aelith nervously, while furiously jerking her half-closed fist in the air, the magic portal controlling her cantrip floating about her bobbing wrist. The lad didn’t last for more than thirty second in her expert grip, and when he started to loudly manifest his oncoming orgasm, Aelith closed her ghostly fist around the tip of his glans, catching the teen’s copious ejaculation in her translucent palm, while he looked down at his junk in disbelief. As soon as he let out his last splurt, Aelith let go of his still throbbing cock, to violently punch him in the nuts -CRACK- saying “Thanks a lot, you perv!” the not-so-lucky-after-all lad dropped to his knees, cupping his terribly aching balls, that the elf racked right when his orgasm made them the most sensitive. Losing his balance on the edge of the bank, he could only grab onto the leg of his unfortunate buddy late to cum, and the two teenage boys scuffed their naked asses while tumbling down the steep bank, to end up jumbled all together in the river mud below.

Totally unfazed by the rough tumble the lads took, nor the disapproving and confused gazes of her colleagues, Aelith the sorcerer quickly called back her ghostly mage hand to her, impatiently stammering “Come on, come on, come on!” as the young ladd’s cum was already losing its gooey consistency, floating in her translucent palm, before her cantrip reattached to the portal still hovering around her right hand, fitting her real hand like a glove before vanishing. In the most undignified fashion imaginable, the elf waif immediately started to lick her open palm, voraciously slurping every pungent glob of sperm with the most decadent expression of lust on her cute face, until she sucked each one of her fingers clean. It’s only when Aelith finally smacked her luscious lips that she realized each one of the girls was staring at her in absolute disgust, save for Razasha who naively told her “Mistress should have told me she was that thirsty, we still have plenty of ale.” to which Freya quipped, “Aye, orc. Yer elf’s thirsty fer sure, but not fer ale!” and they all laughed at the very ashamed cum-eating waif, even Razasha this time, who for lack of better sense, did not want to be left out.