Orc F*ck: A Dark Fantasy Adventure

By Danica Steeleigh

Lynet is an adventurous, entrepreneurial elf. Her mixings with the seedier side of elvish high society have left her... unfulfilled. Serendipity strikes when she stumbles upon Orc F*cks: lascivious, hedonistic “parties” between petite elves and broad, brutish orcs. A world where elves are used for pleasure until they can’t remember their names.

It’s degrading.

It’s humiliating.

It’s everything she’s ever wanted.

And when she indulges these new dark desires, she’ll never be the same.

Orc F*ck: A Dark Fantasy Adventure is a maximum spice, 18k word novella about what happens outside the purview of high societies. If you like hot elves, beefy orcs, fantasy worlds, and hardcore group situations, then this is the book for you!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Danica Steeleigh
• Release date: Sep 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215437223

Danica Steeleigh

Danica is an overworked marketing professional based out of Metro Detroit. In her spare time she writes nasty stories that she'd love to put into some of her more tight-lipped clients' social media feed. She loves writing about fantasy and science fiction, but she's open to other genres as well ;)Get in contact if you'd like her to write a story for you!

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COPYRIGHT/LEGAL

Orc F*ck:

A Dark Fantasy Adventure

Copyright 2016 Danica Steeleigh

2nd Edition Copyright 2023 Danica Steeleigh

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This story is written for adults only. All characters depicted in this tale are over 18 years of age.

Finally, thank you for reading.

ORC FUCK

A Hardcore Fantasy Gangbang

Lynet

Lynet Glynn stood in the guest quarters and looked at the outfit she had prepared for tonight. Her slinky black silk dress with the emerald trim. It certainly had served her well these past few months, her little fuck-me dress. How many galas had it been? How many drugged drinks had she passed up, given to her by slimy little elves with tiny fortunes and even tinier little pricks? Even worse, how many of those tiny things had she taken in her mouth or elsewhere just to get on the good side of the particularly rich ones?

She was the daughter of a respected elven nobleman, whose Glynnwine fueled the revelry of most of the parties she attended. Lynet was sure that she and her father were the unwitting accomplices in the conception of countless noble-born elvish bastard children, and it always made her smile. Sex was currency just as much as gold was in elven high society, favors traded for favors in murky halls and sooty backrooms.

But no matter how many galas, or balls, or soirees, or whatever the pretentious host wanted to call them, she was never in her element there. She had never felt more at home than when she was out in the wilderness, searching high and low for new ingredients to create the next amazing vintage of Glynnwine.

For the next few hours she would drape her svelte, athletic figure in the dress she got the most attention in. It would hug her tight ass and bring her perky little tits in full view of leering eyes, putting her on display once again for legions of horny, soft-handed inbred rats that truly think she can’t smell the dreamweed they put in her drink. She knew more about the flora and fauna outside any city’s walls better than those little twits knew the inside of their sister’s twat.

Gods, why am I in Tenebria? Oh, right.

One of her father’s most wealthy competitors, Arval Goff, was based here, and he was going to be hosting another self-congratulatory fete. Little more than a giant advertisement for his brand of booze, but it wasn’t like elves needed a reason to get drunk. Either way, it would be a perfect way to introduce herself to Arval’s heir, Penvro. Forming a business alliance through marriage would ensure the security of the Glynn family legacy, and she was sure she could use her business acumen to engulf the Goff’s brand in the process. One step closer to sweet monopoly.

She planned to be there only as long as she needed to be. Exploring the city and its outskirts would come later and undoubtedly be much more fun, but for now, it was time to get dressed. She took the only protection she needed, her trusty dagger, and strapped it to her thigh. She slipped into the fuck-me dress and eyed herself in the mirror. Lynet didn’t have a problem with fancy parties, in fact, they’d done wonders for her self-esteem. She knew she looked ravishing, and if she had the time, she might have slipped a finger or two between her legs to have the most fun she’d have until she slipped out of the party early. But she couldn’t help but ogle herself. If only she could find one of those spoiled rich pigs that knew how to fuck, she’d actually have some fun. Her pussy ached to be filled, to be fucked right.

She kept looking at herself. Chills ran down her spine.

I’ll be fashionably late, she thought as her hands slid down her dress.

Goff Manor

Goff Manor was actually a bit more impressive than she had been expecting. Its grand ballroom was lit with a pulsating magical spell, its colors dancing across the ceiling in a hypnotic display. The heady smell of roasted meats filled the air, and whenever a Goffbrau Maiden walked past, the bitterness of Goffbrau’s hops invaded Lynet’s nose. As grand and cavernous as the hall was, it seemed to be filled to capacity with the who’s who of Tenebrian society, all of them there to hobnob and make merry. She even recognized a few of the nobles from her hometown of Aschenfeld, but thankfully none of them would recognize her.

She took a Goffbrau from one of the dozens of trays circling the ballroom, and began her search for Penvro. It wasn’t going to be too hard, since the son of the host would be glommed onto like a sac of blood in a mosquito net.

After what felt like an eternity with no luck, she saw the ballroom’s main doors swing wide as the Goffs made their grand entrance. Arval looked like a god of vice personified, gaudy crushed velvets and opulent jewelry festooning his bloated frame. A gem-encrusted goblet in one hand, his wife’s hand in the other, he strode into the hall. Penvro walked alongside the two, his pale brown eyes