The keep's corridors were dim as Borg dragged Shava by the wrist, his grip firm but not bruising—yet. The chaos outside still roared: orcs shouting, goblins screaming as they were hunted down in the pens. Borg had lit the fuse, and now the fire burned bright. Shava's mind raced, but her body followed, heels scraping the stone flags. She knew resistance now would end her. Play along. Survive. Uncover his acquaintances later.

He shoved open the door to Kragg's private chambers, now his, by right of the knife, slamming it shut behind them with a boom that rattled the hinges. The room was lavish for an orc keep: a massive bed, shelves lined with stolen human treasures—gold goblets, silk tapestries, a few dusty books Kragg had never read. Borg released her wrist and turned the key in the lock, the click final as a cell door.

"Undress," he commanded, voice low and rough, eyes already raking over her like she was a prize won in battle. "

It's been too long since we fucked, Shava. Weeks of waiting while you played the hateful wife. Time to remind you who you belong to," Borg said, his cock throbbing.

Shava's stomach twisted with hatred. Borg—the audacity, the schemer who had just murdered their chief and unleashed hell on the innocents outside. She wanted to claw his eyes out, to scream the truth to the clans. But she remembered the river, the thing he had thrown away. She could kill him here but then, would never find out who he allied with because Borg wasn't stronger than her. But she chose to play along, fingers moving to the buckles of her leather armor with deliberate slowness. Piece by piece it came off: the chestplate clanking to the floor, the greaves unstrapped, the tunic unlaced until she stood bare before him, green skin glowing in the firelight, scars from old battles mapping her powerful frame.

Borg's eyes darkened with hunger. He stripped fast, roughly, his own body a map of new wounds from whatever fight had left him battered. His cock sprang free, already hard and thick, veined like twisted rope. He crossed the space in two strides, hands claiming her—rough palms on her breasts, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp, fingers pinching nipples until they hardened despite her revulsion.

He dominated her mind first, whispering poison as he pushed her back toward the bed.

"You're mine now, Shava. Kragg's gone. The clans will bow to us. You'll bear my heirs, strong and fierce," His mouth crashed against hers, tusks scraping, tongue forcing entry in a kiss that was more conquest than affection. Shava hated him—hated the taste of rum and blood on his lips, hated how his words wormed into her doubts. But her body betrayed her, a flush spreading across her chest as his hands roamed lower, callused fingers tracing the curve of her hips, dipping between her thighs to find her already wet.

Disgusting. She felt disgusting for the spark of pleasure that ignited when he rubbed her clit in slow circles, his other hand gripping her ass, pulling her against his hardness.

"See?" he growled against her neck, nipping hard enough to draw blood.

"Your body knows. It wants this," Borg said but he wasn't forcing her, she could back out at anytime.

Borg spun her around, bending her over the bed's edge. Shava braced on her forearms as he spread her legs with his knee. His cock pressed against her pussy lips, thick and insistent, and he thrust in with one brutal push.

"Ahh!" Shava cried out, a mix of pain and unwelcome pleasure as he filled her completely, stretching her to the limit. Borg didn't wait; he pounded her relentlessly, hips slamming forward with the force of a battering ram. Each thrust sent shockwaves through her body, her breasts bouncing, her claws digging into the furs. "Mmm... oh gods," she moaned low, the sound escaping despite her clenched teeth.

She bit her lip to stifle the moans, but they escaped anyway—low, guttural sounds that made her feel filthy. "Uhn... ahh..." Her body loved it, the rough rhythm building heat in her core, making her wetter, tighter around him. Disgusting. So disgusting.

Borg flipped her onto her back, spreading her legs wide and hooking them over his shoulders. He drove in deeper this way, his weight pinning her, tusks grazing her collarbone as he bit down lightly.

"Look at me," he commanded, grabbing her chin. Shava's eyes met his, hating the triumph there, but her hips bucked up to meet his thrusts despite herself.

"Oh... mmm, yes," She moaned unwillingly, pleasure coiling tight in her belly, building with every slam, every grind against that sensitive spot inside her. She came first, body clenching around him in waves that made her arch off the bed, a cry tearing from her throat.

"Ahh! No... uhn!" Shava knew this was wrong.

Borg laughed, low and victorious, pounding harder through her orgasm.

"That's it, feel me," Borg barked.

He pulled out, flipped her again to her hands and knees, and took her from behind. His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging bruises as he set a punishing pace, cock sliding in and out with slick, obscene sounds.

"Uhn... ahh... mmm," Shava's arms shook, moans spilling from her lips as her body responded even as her mind screamed in revulsion. It felt good—the way he filled her, the rough friction, the slap of skin on skin.

"Oh... yes, harder..." She hated him for making her feel it, hated herself for the second climax building low in her gut.

Borg shifted, pushing her flat on her stomach, mounting her fully. His weight pressed her into the bed, cock thrusting deep and slow now, grinding with each push.

"Gonna fill you," he growled in her ear.

"Every king needs an heir. You'll give me strong sons, Shava. Our line will rule forever." Byung made his intention known because he believed his babies conceived with this high would inherit his strength.

"Mmm... ahh... no," She moaned, moving to push his torso to stop him but her body betrayed her again, clenching around him as his cock swelled. He came with a roar, thrusting deep and holding her waist in place, hot seed flooding her.

"Uhn!..." The sensation pushed her over the edge; she came a second time, muffling her cry with a hand, waves of pleasure crashing through her shame.

"Ahh... mmm..." Shava came aggressively a second time alongside Borg.

Borg rolled off, panting, cock glistening. Shava lay there, body spent and tingling, mind a storm of disgust and hatred. She felt filthy, used, but the afterglow lingered like a traitor.

But then Borg noticed something troubling as he noticed the body meant to be here was no longer in the room.

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