No Bad Bitches in the World
There are no bad bitches in the world. It's just today—the day those pesky little human dicks from upstairs head north for their long-term training. And what does that mean? At least as far as this mansion goes, me and my kids no longer have to huddle in this stuffy underground prison.
"Who would've thought? That a wicked orc was lurking beneath human lands, scheming evil ambitions."
"…"
"Not gonna answer?"
Smack!
"Hngh!"
A ripple spread across the brown-skinned dark elf's ass from my hand, and a stifled moan burst from her tightly shut lips. The plump, juicy feel of her ass exploding under my fingertips was a different kind of thrill from smacking human bitches like Veronica or Silveryia—thicker, stickier, more satisfying. While I savored it, Lenaris, crawling on all fours before me, glared daggers with her mouth clamped shut.
Normally, my morning routine would've been watching Silveryia torment Lenaris, followed by an afternoon tasting session of Snow(?) prepped by the human bitches (the maids). But today also happened to be the day the mansion's little dicks shipped out on their trip. Naturally, Lady Veronica and her knight Silveryia went off to see them off, leaving me bored out of my skull. So here I was, toying with the perfect plaything and future guard bitch of the house, Lenaris.
No word yet from upstairs that it was safe to come out, so I'd slipped a pretty dog collar around Lenaris's neck, attached a leash, and was trying to take her for a simple walk... but
"Come out."
Lenaris clung to the cell bars like a cicada, stubbornly refusing to be dragged.
"Hmph."
Through the Obedience Collar, I'd commanded: "The moment you step out of this cell, you'll bark like a dog and walk like one." So if she left, she'd crawl and bark against her will. That's why she was clinging so desperately.
Honestly, must suck. Forced by a command beyond her control.
Thanks to that, I'd been wrestling for an hour with this wild mutt-eyed bitch who screamed "I'm not coming out!" with her glare alone, looking every bit the feral stray that'd never be tamed. I'd tugged the leash, smacked her ass, coaxed and wheedled—but nothing. As I pondered how to break her, an idea flashed through my mind.
Wonder if it'd work? Worth a shot over nothing.
So I slackened the taut leash, stepping back far enough for it to go limp. I'd seen it on some YouTube knockoff once: the first step in handling a walk-fearing dog is making walks fun. Curious if it'd stick on a dark elf, but hey, if I'm raising her as a real bitch, might as well try proper dog training.
"?"
Lenaris eyed me suspiciously as I suddenly loosened the leash and backed off. What trick was this orc pulling?
I acted casual, keeping the leash in hand but leaning against the opposite wall and sitting down.
"What scheme is this?"
"…"
She'd kept her trap shut till now, but my weird behavior piqued her curiosity enough to crack it open. Good—hook her interest first.
Lenaris watched intently as I plopped down to wait. Maybe she thought I'd lure her out then yank hard—but with me so far away, she eased off the bars a bit, dropping down inside the cell. Not stepping out, of course. Just pacing and observing me closely.
I didn't stop her. Leash loose, no Silveryia to torment her, and this orc not laying a hand on her—she started relaxing, tension easing through the leash in my grip.
"Mm, good girl."
"…?"
Good what? Her black eyes stared, baffled. Untrustworthy bastard suddenly praising her? Must be confusing as hell.
"What… are you plotting?"
Even an assassin couldn't read my mind, but she sensed I wasn't forcing her. She sat gingerly on the cell floor, palms ready on the ground to spring if I lunged. Her sharp reactions had softened—not fully, but some guard down.
I turned my back slightly, like she shouldn't peek, and
"Heave-ho."
shot my load into a custom dog bowl. Orc stamina's no joke—the bowl filled in seconds. I hid the semen-packed bowl behind me, out of her sight.
Sniff sniff.
Dark elf senses kicked in; she flared her nostrils, catching the scent.
"Adultery…"
It was just past lunchtime—too early for dinner. But after days of starvation, broken only this morning by my semen as her first meal, Lenaris flushed and averted her eyes. Probably flashing back to slurping it from Silveryia's pussy, plus the humiliation of a dark elf eating orc cum.
But I could read it in her eyes—those inky black pools. Hunger.
A week of starving near death? She'd have said something if she wanted to die. Once she'd swallowed my semen down her throat into her gut, her suppressed appetite had roared to life in extremis.
Gulp.
"Hungry?"
"N-not especially! Who'd want that…"
Starved near death, she'd gobbled my cum on survival instinct. Mouth said no, body said yes—classic.
Her mind screamed rejection, but after lucidly feeling her body waste away, faced with death, she'd learned the shame of orc semen as her meal. Yet biology won: survival instinct and raw hunger latched onto what saved her life.
Is orc cum viable as food? Hell if I know. But years back, Silveryia survived a week of nonstop impregnation sex on nothing but my loads—and came out healthier, more vibrant. My live experiment proved it.
Clink.
Anyway, she'd sniffed out her lunch. I pulled the hidden bowl and set it before me.
"S-so that was your plan!"
Lenaris shot up. Probably thought I was toying with her.
But I just crossed my arms, staring silently.
"Urgh…"
I believed in her—the one who'd ravenously sucked Silveryia's pussy for survival, burning with unnatural life lust.
She screamed at me, dashing around the cell, rummaging for something to throw. Grabbed a dildo from the corner sex toys and hurled it. But I didn't tug the leash or yell.
Her eyes rolled, taking it in. Her body was screaming hunger now, fueling her frantic meltdown. Ignoring it was hard with appetite gnawing, mouth watering at the sight—but pride held her back. That's the crux.