The heart of the forest was deceptively still, the kind of calm that settled over the land like a thick, suffocating blanket. Gronka, a hulking orc of a woman, sat perched on a large, flat rock, sharpening her axe with long, sure strokes. She let out a content sigh, her breath rustling the leaves that had dared to settle on her broad shoulders. The peace and quiet of the forest was a welcome respite from the constant clamor of her fellow orcs, and she reveled in it.
A twig snapped underfoot, the sound echoing through the glade like a gunshot. Gronka's head snapped up, her eyes scanning the area for the source of the noise. A small, innocent-looking elf boy, no older than sixteen, entered the glade, humming to himself as he picked flowers. Gronka watched him with amusement, her lips quirking into a smirk. Look at that little twerp, prancing around like he owns the place.
Pippin, for that was his name, was blissfully unaware of the orc's presence. He sat down on the soft grass, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Gronka couldn't help but roll her eyes at his childish behavior. As if the forest is yours to command, she thought, her amusement turning to irritation.
Gronka decided to have a little fun at Pippin's expense. She stood up, her muscles rippling under her tanned skin, and with a wicked grin, slowly approached him. Pippin, his eyes still closed, didn't notice her until she was looming over him, her shadow casting a dark pall over his small form.
Pippin looked up at her with wide, surprised eyes, his hands still clutching the flowers he'd been picking. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Gronka said, her deep voice rumbling through the glade.
Pippin stammers out a greeting, trying to act brave in the face of the towering orc. Gronka chuckled, her amusement returning. "You're cute, elf. But you're no match for me."
Gronka, without warning, sat down on Pippin's face, effectively crushing him under her bare ass. Pippin's muffled protests were met with a playful insult from Gronka. "Shh, little elf, you're making too much noise. Let me enjoy the silence."
Pippin struggled, his small fists beating against Gronka's muscular thighs. Gronka just laughed, her amusement growing with every passing second. "You're so weak, elf. It's no wonder your kind is always getting pushed around."
Pippin's struggles became weaker, and Gronka could feel him giving up. She leaned back, enjoying the feeling of his soft, squishy face against her bare skin. The feeling was intoxicating, and Gronka found herself wanting more.
Gronka decided to give Pippin a break, and stood up, leaving him lying on the grass, gasping for air. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today, elf," she said, offering him a hand up.
Pippin, still recovering from the ordeal, took Gronka's hand and stood up, wiping the grass from his clothes. Gronka couldn't help but chuckle at his disheveled appearance.
Pippin, trying to regain his dignity, thanked Gronka and started to leave the glade. Gronka called after him, "Hey, elf! Don't forget to watch where you sit next time."
Pippin, with a sheepish grin, waved goodbye to Gronka and continued on his way. Gronka watched him go, already planning their next encounter.
Gronka sat back down on the rock, sharpening her axe once more. She thought to herself, "That was fun. I should do that again sometime."
The glade fell back into silence, with only the sound of Gronka's axe sharpening and the rustling of leaves in the wind. The end of chapter one.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.