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Bernheim/orcs – King's Raid – belly bulge; aphrodisiac cum; spoil of war – Bernheim got captured by orcs and while at first he had hated it, he's now an enthusiastic living toy for them. Live is much easier when he only has to worry about spreading his legs.

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Bernheim’s limbs flail when a cock is being pushed into his ruined backdoor again. It’s one of the bigger orcs, spreading him to a degree that he would like to say has been unknown to him until that point but… well, a lot of things have happened during his captivity.

He’s lost time of how long he’s been in the orc camp. He’s lost consciousness too often to rely on his sense of time and the orcs never gave him a straight answer when he asked, so he stopped worrying about that.

Or about where his sword has gotten to. He is reasonably sure that they are not wielding it – he would have noticed that at last – so they probably just threw Targarios in with their other loot which the stupid thing surely would be livid about.

Bernheim doesn’t care. Oh, he doesn’t care about anything anymore other than how massive the next cock they try to stuff into him will be.

It hasn’t always been that way of course. In the beginning he’s fought tooth and nail against his assailants. He thinks back on how pathetic his struggle has been as an orc slaps his cheek hard enough to get his ears to ring – from them it is nothing more than a love tap, really – and opens his mouth nice and wide for a fat uncut cock to be rammed down his throat.

Getting spit roasted like this is the most peaceful of his new duties. He can just reminisce about getting his bones broken by the orcs whenever he thought he might be able to squirm his way out of their grasps.

They’ve put a lot more scars on him than he’s come into the camp with. He’s their canvas to paint on.

It’s better this way, he realized at some point. Too useless to wield the power of light and too weak to withstand Targarios’ dark influence. He is nothing but a big, muscular beast of burden – and if it should be his burden to get his hips ground into dust by the orc’s ruthless loving, then so be it.

It’s tranquil. Wonderful. He only has to make sure to open his mouth nice and wide or spread his legs at the slightest indication, and they will be so kind as to practically douse him in their thick, sticky cum.

Their wonderful… wonderful cum. In moments of clarity Bernheim has been wondering about its toxicity for humans. There had to be some odd component in it to render humans this needy. This overwhelmed with lust.

He enjoys that thought. It would mean that at the end of the day he is still human. With all his myriad of faults.

The orc behind him groans, his thick fingers digging hard into Bernheim’s hips as he starts to pump him full.

Bernheim’s eyes roll into his skull. He can feel his stomach starting to distant with the creamy filling he’s getting, his legs trembling as all kinds of nerves start firing, confused and excited by the odd stimulation. He might never get used to the feeling of being this… pregnant with cum.

He can practically feel it seeping into him, heating his body up and making him so desperate for cock that when the Orc pulls out to let another of his comrades have a go at him, he becomes immediately weepy from the emptiness he’s feeling.

Not for long, though. Not for long. Thankfully.

From the front the orc is grabbing him by the hair, pulling his head back until Bernheim’s back is getting bent to the point of him briefly worrying about his spine snapping in half.

The orc pulls out, thick strands of saliva connecting the bulbous tip of his fleshy cock with Bernheim’s swollen, gasping mouth. He goes cross-eyed trying to look at the thing; the massive, spongy head that looks as big as a fist and far too large to fit where it had been in seconds ago.

“Keep your tongue out,” the orc grunts at him. He’s got thick tusks protruding from his lower jaw. Bernheim stares up at him, obediently sticking his tongue out even farther, wondering just how it would feel if he would kiss him.

Seems like it only takes a few inhumanely large cocks to make Bernheim feel all docile and sweet and like he wants to form some connections.

Or maybe it’s the cum that is driving him insane and making him feel like a furnace.

As he waits obediently for the orc to jerk his massive load off onto his face, he can hear the angry screeches of a new arrival being brought into the camp. There have been a few new whores for the orcs and all of them started out just like Bernheim did: fighting, screaming, hating it all the way.

Eventually they would accept their new fate, though. Either that… or they died and got disposed of.

Bernheim focuses back on his own work as the first hot splash lands against his forehead. He tries to keep watching but he’s not all too keen about cum in his eyes so he just stays there nicely, letting himself get used as a cum dumpster by the orcs idly discussing the new arrival.

“A spitfire. They all are at first, though. This bitch has been spirited too. But now he’s the best mare we got in our stable. Hehe – dumb whore.”

Yes. Yes, he is.