Strapped, pt. 1 [futanari, futa-fem, fantasy, masturbation, blindfold]

Into the inky blackness that surrounded her, she radiated heat.  Sweat had begun to form over every inch of her naked body, starting first as a fine mist, then beading here and there.  An occasional breeze was a welcome respite sending a delicious chill throughout, and though she couldn’t remember where she was, she felt as if somehow she was floating.  Opening her eyes, the orc looked down and regarded her nakedness.  The wetness that covered her seemed to make her moss-green skin glow in the single spot of light that radiated from somewhere high above.  She watched as a bead of sweat formed on her chest and rolled languidly down between her fulsome breasts and embarked further across the undulations of her muscular stomach, finally disappearing in the soft valley between her legs.  She could only feel it now, but the sensation made her entire considerable frame shiver with excitement.

From the darkness, strong hands emerged and grasped at her: her waist, her shoulder, her hip, her thigh, her breast.  Every grasp overpowered her, but each was as tender as a familiar lover.  The rough, work-hardened hands of an orc were unmistakeable, and emotion overwhelmed her as she felt the touch of another of her kind for the first time in years, heat prickling her eyes.  Those hands rippled across her abdomen and delved further between her legs.  Spreading them apart, a thick finger laid along the length of her lips and pressed into her.  Her nipples hardened, her spine tingled and passion wetted her.  Turning her head, she searched for her lover, but could find nothing but a shimmer of light and a trick of the eyes, so instead she gave in to this spectre and rested her head back against it’s shoulder as she was spread further by those ghostly fingers.

Finally, she was entered.  First by one finger, then by another.  A tear spilled from her eye and ran down an angular cheek, mingling with her sweat, as she felt herself being filled, at last, by an orc accepting of her.  Her arm looped around where she thought a neck should be as her lips found a cheek and she crushed them fervently against it.  Her nose was there now and she inhaled deeply.  As those powerful fingers worked inside her, she could smell the forge, the earth and blood; those things from her youth and adolescence, from the time before she left.

She did not want to tempt fate—to make demands and dispel the magic of this moment—but the fingers stirring her loins gave her new boldness.  Whispering into where an ear should be, she said,

“Hurry and take me.”

In an instant, she could no longer feel anything.  The fingers withdrew, the hand caressing her chest and stomach disappeared and the shoulder cushioning her head was no more.  For a moment she panicked, but then she was presented by her lover in the flesh.  He emerged from the darkness and stood between her legs, a perfect specimen of orcish manliness.  He was tall and muscular, marked by war and battle across his ochre flesh, and long dark matted hair fell across his shoulders.  In his hand he held his sizeable member as if it were a weapon: like a true orc, he was prepared to fight as well as to breed.

Without thinking, she spread her legs further.  He moved closer and traced the line of her slit with the spear in his hand.  She looked at him pleadingly and he smirked back playfully before positioning himself ready for a single, long thrust.  Their eyes met again and in one movement, he inserted …

***

The cock crowed and jolted First Sergeant of the City Guard Ur-Zal Orthakh awake from another restless slumber.  Without even opening her eyes, she realised she’d been dreaming and her heart sank as she buried her face into her pillow.  She could feel the tell-tale coolness of moisture around her hips and let out a sullen sigh.  Finally, she rolled onto her back, opened her eyes and regarded the tent in the sheets that her substantial erection produced.  She whipped away the sheets, exposing her naked body to the cool morning air, and sighed again as a hand dropped as if by reflex to the nearly eleven inches protruding from her.

How long had it been since she’d visited the bordello, she wondered?  Given her state and her restless sleep, she would have guessed at a few months, but she knew it couldn’t have been more than a few weeks.  Her appetite was growing.  This was a concern to her, not because of cost—others of her pay-grade were more than able to support a healthy patronage of the late-night and late-late-night venues all while supporting a growing family—but because discretion became harder and harder with each visit.  While androgynes were by no means unheard of in polite society, they were certainly rare, and even then the ones that were known of were generally beyond reproach as they would end up occupying some prestigious seat in politics or religion. The elves, with their reputation for theocratic zealotry, were the prime example of this.  The other races were less embracing of such anomalies.  Unsurprisingly, orcs were brutishly single-minded on such matters, at least her former tribe were, and this often led to being shunned, exiled or worse.  Humans were, for the most part, dismissive and that tended to be the worst that could be expected in the cities, especially here in the Capital.  Intermittent contact with elves and elven culture had lead to a certain broadening of horizons, even if it was purely for the sake of appearing progressive.  The provinces were a different matter, simple folk prefer simple notions after all, and although things rarely turned violent, Ur-Zal had heard enough rumours to know that secrecy was best.  That applied to the cities, too.  Cautiously accepting as the humans might be of such a thing, as a public servant, Ur-Zal had a reputation to consider, and just being an orc could make public relations difficult enough, even if her decision to file down her exposed fangs was noted and appreciated by many.

Ur-Zal made a resolve.  She needed release, it was that simple.  She had been able to keep herself busy and distracted until now, but even the thought of being found out was not enough to tame the effect her libido had on the still rock-hard shaft in her hand.  She would visit the girls that night, but before she could begin her day’s work, she would need to take more temporary relief.  Just the idea that she would be indulging her urges was enough to make Ur-Zal stiffen further and she allowed what had been idle brushes of her cock to progress to a fulsome and lengthy stroke.  She pulled from base to tip in one long motion, her full length adequately lubricated by her nocturnal emissions, and squeezed the head gently.  She returned downward and allowed her grip to loosen as she brushed the tightening knot of her balls.

Again and again she stroked like this as she allowed her other hand free reign of the rest of her body.  She brushed her powerful thighs, taught stomach, her large and generous chest and pinched and pulled on her nipples as the heat in her other hand built.  She licked and sucked her fingers and returned her roaming hand into her lap and spread wetness on her balls.  She caressed and squeezed, then reaching beyond found, very quickly, the soaking slit of her female organs.  Keeping to the surface, she teased herself while she continued to stroke every inch of her huge and still hardening cock. When she could take it no longer, she eased two fingers inside of herself and let out a stifled moan of ecstasy as her spine arched sky-ward.  The hand on her cock moved faster and faster as the hand inside stirred her into a frenzy.

Before long, she found herself on the brink, and in a deft and elegant movement, she threw her hips toward the ceiling and her legs over her head slipping the head of her cock between her parted and ready lips, her shaft sliding between her breasts.  Both hands still on their task, she now pumped her hips gently and revelled in the sensation of her own lips wrapped around her own cock, and her own cock pushing against the back of her own throat.  She gasped and moaned and whimpered as she stroked and sucked and fingered until at last she contracted hard around her fingers and her balls released a stream of hot white fluid into her mouth and throat.  She swallowed hard several times, but as was typical, the volume she emitted was too much and her mouth brimmed with her lust.  She held her position for a moment or two longer as her organs twitched and spasmed their last, her cheeks puffed out foolishly.  At last she removed herself from her mouth and pussy, and lowered herself down, careful not to spill.  A momentary loss of control as she descended resulted in a minor leak, but as she took one last almighty gulp, she savoured the feeling as it trickled down her throat, both inside and out.  She made no attempt to wipe it up.  She breathed deeply, measuredly, and for a moment, she was satisfied.

***

Ur-Zal afforded herself a few moments to wallow in bliss before setting herself about the business of her day.  Her morning diversions, while necessary, had delayed her and she could already hear the rest of the garrison stirring around her.

The remnants of a jug of water and a cloth took care of any tell-tale signs of the morning’s activities before she began the onerous task of strapping herself into her home-made chastity device.  A soft piece of leather that spanned the length of her now flaccid member was wrapped around it, and a series of buckles arranged at regular intervals were fastened.  The one that encircled the base of her cock was fastened particularly tightly causing the smooth metal stud that protruded from it to dull some of the sensation to the area, while another identical strap did the same behind her balls.  The assembly was then pulled back underneath her, so that it appeared to be cradling her balls, and the two remaining straps near the exposed head were tied in a bow knot above the base of her cock.  Inspecting the tidy package, she remembered some of her previous methods involving strapping herself to her thigh or tucking her full length inside of herself, but she found that both these methods, if anything, had the opposite effect and resulted in a number of close-calls, which she was barely able to get away with.

Pushing the fond memory of literally fucking herself out of her mind, she dressed and regarded herself in the mirror.  Almost everything Ur-Zal wore had been intended for a large man, and even then had to be altered in some way to accommodate her size and stature.  The leather-and-steel cuirass had to be formed of two other pieces: one of which was narrower in the waist and neck in order to sit properly, and one that was wider closer to the middle to accommodate her large chest and shoulders.  This was then combined with steel pauldrons affixed to the cuirass by a steel upper breastplate, the contrasting sizes of which again had required specialist attention.  The mail skirt had to be simultaneously taken in and lengthened to the thigh, and even her royal blue tunic, emblazoned in gold at the hem with the kings coat of arms, was without sleeves, simply because her superiors deemed it too troublesome to arrange for wider ones to be tailored on.  At the very least, Ur-Zal’s own domestic skill meant that her boots, bracers and pantaloons, as well as any undergarments, all fit comfortably.  This patchwork of a uniform, while technically up to standard, was certainly possessed of a distinctly ‘orcish’ look, as if the woman wearing it weren’t indication enough.

Ur-Zal shifted and adjusted and said a silent prayer of thanks to whomever had the idea that the guards’ uniform should be so layered from the waist down, thus further assisting in her own concealment.  Finally, she strapped on her belt and weapons, tidied her braided hair, took a deep breath and stepped out into the comparatively small annex of the city garrison intended for women.  She nodded curtly to a few female guards who were returning from a night shift as she made for the main garrison and the rest of her day.

***

   “Running late, this morning, first sergeant?” inquired Captain Dirginal Vilstedt, as Ur-Zal bustled into his office.

   “Yes, sir.  Apologies.  I was—”

   “No need to explain, Orthakh, women’s issues are none of my concern.”

Ur-Zal chose to bite her tongue rather than to correct the man.  He meant well and was always decent to her and the other female guards, but he was clearly still of the generation that couldn’t quite fathom the ‘mysteries of a woman’s mind’.  In any case, she couldn’t think of a decent excuse.

   “Here’s your inspection list for today,” he continued, holding a sheet of paper aloft and already busying himself with some other task.  “I’m glad you’ve dressed light: you’ll be running back and forth across the city today, but that’s just how it’s worked out, I’m afraid.”

   “Not a problem, sir.”

   “Just what I like to hear!”

Ur-Zal turned to leave.

   “One other thing, first sergeant.”  He passed a hand over his balding head as if forming his thoughts.  “Perhaps I shouldn’t say so, but your hard work since your promotion has not gone unnoticed, and I’ve been informed that certain high-positioned people have taken a keen interest in you.  So keep up the good work, won’t you?”

Ur-Zal beamed,

   “Yes, sir!  I shall, sir!”

   “There’s a good girl.  Off you pop.”

Ur-Zal stepped into the bright late-spring sunlight, and spurred on by the compliment, she delved amongst the city’s peoples and began her inspections of the other guards’ patrols. Her good mood did not last, however.  Before long, she found herself distracted by many of the citizens she passed.  When it came to the men, she could only dream of a specimen that could possibly compare to the beast that visited her last night, but when it came to the women, she was spoilt for choice.  She disrobed them in her mind, peeling away skirt, bodice and petticoat until they presented themselves lewdly and brazenly to her.  The more elaborately-dressed and high-class they were, the better, as far as Ur-Zal was concerned.  Her mind wandered to thoughts of putting those she considered stuck-up or snooty in their place and crashing into them until they lost their composure entirely, and their perfectly made-up visages melted into vulgar expressions of lust.  Then again, it would not do to overlook those women of more modest means.  It could be argued, and Ur-Zal certainly did, that their humble backgrounds might actually make them quite grateful to be taken, and make for a much more proactive and enthusiastic lover.  Sometimes she wondered if there were a woman like her in the crowd: burdened with a secret that swung freely between her legs, concealed among the many layers of her skirt.  Big or small, it wouldn’t matter to Ur-Zal, so long as she got to watch as it swayed in time with the rhythm of their bodies.  Ur-Zal found herself staring a little too long at times and chastised herself for the potential scare she might have given the people of each quarter as she moved from patrol to patrol.

Unsurprisingly, it was those that sold their flesh that roused her the most.  Whether it was the whore in rags, who traded in the alleys of the Pleasure Quarter and stroked herself idly as the drunks or guards passed; or the concubines who were almost indistinct from the well-to-do women with whom they shared their quarter, but for their lack of escort; all it took was a meaningful look and a little more exposed flesh than was generally considered decent before Ur-Zal found the leather straps keeping her in check straining against her urges.  At one point, in the late afternoon, when she was passing Madame Taurey’s, the bordello in the Market Quarter that Ur-Zal frequented, she lingered a little longer than she would have liked and only realised after the fact that she had almost opened the door and walked in.  The rest of the day dragged like this, but even after her shift ended in the evening, Ur-Zal was still faced with a long wait before she could steal out in the middle of the night.

***

Ur-Zal filled her time as best she could.  Sadly, having dinner, taking a trip to the baths and picking out something to wear only takes so long.  She was happy to find some colleagues at a nearby tavern and hoped to keep herself distracted, but was soon reminded of what alcohol can do to humans when members of the opposite sex are present.  Guards of both sexes seemed to become distracted from the conversation as eyes darted about the room looking for the next natural progression to the evening, and when a target was acquired and the hunt was on, the smell of rutting human became pungent to the orc.  It was becoming too much for her, and when one of the female guards licked some foam from her lip, Ur-Zal’s head began to fill with thoughts of what else that tongue or those lips could do; how they might look wrapped around her thick cock, or plying themselves to her steaming cunt.  There was a trembling in her lap and Ur-Zal almost pounced.  She too needed to hunt—to bury something into the flesh of another.

Ur-Zal stood up abruptly, said her goodbyes and took her leave.  She walked briskly and aimlessly through the city seeking only to kill time until the streets were less busy and she could slip by undetected.  She was on edge, sensitive to the slightest stimuli and starting at the smallest provocation.  She felt like one of the many junkies that would no doubt be pulling in by the night shift this evening.  She had lived among non-orcs for years and, as with the more civilised of her kind, did a good job of controlling her more orcish tendencies.  However, unlike her own kind, she had precious little means of outlet and now that she seemed to have reached her limit, she was having trouble controlling those tendencies.  What was more, these episodes seemed to be worsening and becoming more frequent with age.  She couldn’t be sure why, but she knew that right now every instinct in her being was telling her to fuck something, or fight something and then fuck it.

Some ambient noise swelled as a nearby tavern door swung open and several men and women spilled out into the warm evening.  A woman fell to the floor.  Not caring how she got there, Ur-Zal, the orc in heat, decided she was going to mount her.  As she walked closer, a man kicked the woman in the stomach and cursed at her.

“You stupid fucking bitch!  You whore!  I hope that bastard dies in your womb and you die with it!”

Ur-Zal snapped out of her trance and fixed the man with a paralysing glare.  She kept moving, but this time it was toward the man.

“What the fuck do you want, orc-bitch?  This is between me and my whore wife!  Keep your filthy orc nose out of it!”

It would have been foolish to fuck something now, but she was certainly going to fight something else.  Still, even in her current state she knew that she had to be reasonable: she couldn’t visit violence upon anyone unless— The man drew knife from his belt and made for Ur-Zal.  Very well, maybe just a little violence.

***

It took every ounce of restraint in her to not crush the man’s head against the cobblestones.  She knelt on his chest, her other foot on his knife-hand and the top half of his skull snugly in her palm.  She waited like this until the on-duty guards were brought back, the victim was seen to, and the perpetrator hauled away.  A few words of thanks or admiration from the guards and witnesses were lost to the wind as Ur-Zal slipped off once again.

Silently, she thanked the heavens that she’d arrived when she did, not only for the well-being of the woman, but also her own.  Her blood pounded in her ears, but she knew that the run-in had helped to stay her urges for a little longer.  She made it back to the garrison a little after midnight and made preparations for a further evening excursion.

She partially undressed and released her cock from its cage, sighing as it hung freely for a moment, and pulled her custom-made pantaloons up once again, lacing them firmly.  Removing her blouse, she took a broad length of leather and wrapped it across her chest, fastening it down tightly, donned a dark linen shirt and a leather jerkin, and tightened every buckle and strap she could.  Taking a look at herself in the mirror, she checked to see that there were no obvious bumps or swells, and ran her hands across her chest.  Cruelly strapped down as far as she could be, she was now by no means flat, but had done a decent job of reducing her silhouette and hoped that any wandering hands might simply mistake them for a well-muscled chest.  Acknowledging that she appeared suitably bizarre, she finally took a small satchel from a cupboard and made for Madame Taurey’s in earnest, making sure to pass through at least one quiet alleyway where she added the contents of her satchel to her outfit: a long dark cloak, a thin scarf she pulled across her nose and mouth and a pair of gloves.  Making sure she’d not been seen, she hurried the rest of the journey pausing, doubling back, or adding a loop to her journey every now and then to make sure she was not being followed.

At last she made it to the bordello and she entered with an air of confidence that belied how anxious she really was.

“Ah, Mr. Mystery!  Wonderful to have you back so soon!”

There was a chime of agreement and a few waves from some of the girls around the room as the conspicuous new guest glided across the room to the speaker, Madame Taurey herself, who was standing at the bar.  The madame was a short woman past middle age, with reddish hair, darkened since her youth, that was pulled into a tight bun.  Her face was lined by no small amount of hardship along with the happiness that a successful business brings.  The latter had also made her plumper than she had ever been.  She watched with some amusement as so-called Mr. Mystery weaved easily among the tables and chairs standing between the bar and the door.  On previous occasions, he had paused to let a waitress pass, or stepped deftly aside as another patron suddenly pushed out his chair to stand.  It was such a gift, in her eyes, to be so heavily disguised and still be able to see, that there was a time when she speculated that this person was already blind, or some kind of sorcerer, but a blind man would not be picking out her most beautiful girls and would be much easier to take advantage of, and a sorcerer, one assumes, would not need to pay for the services of her establishment.  Mystery indeed.

Madame Taurey beamed up at the dark shape where a face should be.

“Same requirements as always, I assume?” her voice seemed to sing.

The hood nodded.

“Is there anyone that has caught your eye?”

The hood turned from side to side.

“Perhaps I can bring you some recommendations?”

The hood nodded and produced a bag of coins, which it placed into Madame Taurey’s little hands.

“That’s very generous of you, sir, as always.  Please take a seat and I’ll bring some of my loveliest girls out.”

Ur-Zal turned slowly and moved deliberately toward an upholstered bench off to the side.  No sooner had she gotten comfortable, than did Madam Taurey reappear with half a dozen beautiful young women each primmed and perfumed in their own individual way.

“My recommendations, sir.”

One-by-one, Madame Taurey walked down the line and listed off each girl’s vital statistics, talents and taboos as if she were selling off a horse.  Ur-Zal would have felt some moral objection to this were it not for the fact that the madame managed to make the process seem somehow wholesome and sincere, and the fact that some of the girls seemed genuinely excited to go to bed with the hooded guest.

Finally at the end of the line, Ur-Zal made her choice.  Raising a hand, she pointed to one girl, Lilia, that she recognised, but had never taken to bed.  She was an athletic-looking girl with gentle curves and long blonde hair that fell in ringlets around her face.  She wore a cream-coloured balcony-fronted dress detailed in blue, which was hemmed high at the front suggestively displaying the folds of her petticoat.  Her long slender legs were clad in sheer translucent stockings decorated with flowers at the hem and suspended by garters that disappeared tantalizingly into her dress.  Upon being picked, she giggled as the others around her, particularly the ones that Ur-Zal had slept with before, congratulated her and wished her luck.  She smiled broadly at the hooded figure and proffered her hand to lead it to the room.

As they walked through the bustle in the room and up the stairs, Ur-Zal began admiring the little creature before her.  The dress was backless, so while it’s volume concealed the girl’s bottom, Ur-Zal had a fine view of the girl’s back.  She was not bulky, but the muscles in her back were well-defined and they flexed gently as her hips swayed beneath it.  The girl knew where her assets lay and could obviously feel the mystery client watching her, and so pulled her hair over her shoulder to give her admirer a better view.  Ur-Zal imagined what it would be like to watch those ripples shift and break with pleasure, how satisfying it would be to see that back curl into itself one inch for every inch that Ur-Zal buried into her, how delicious it would be to watch as her creamy seed ran down this girl’s back, breaking into little rivulets as it followed those delectable contours.  She was ready to pounce at a moments notice, but knew she couldn’t forget herself and lose control, for the sake of her disguise and for the wellbeing of the poor girl on the receiving end.

***

[So, it seems I’m about to hit my character limit, so if you’d like to read the conclusion to part one of ‘Strapped’, read on at [https://www.literotica.com/s/strapped-pt-01](https://www.literotica.com/s/strapped-pt-01)! The intention is to turn this into a short series, with updates as and when I have the time.  If you enjoyed this so far, want more and can spare a little cash, head over to my Patreon at [https://www.patreon.com/imakesmut](https://www.patreon.com/imakesmut) and throw a few pennies my way!  Thanks and see you in the next instalment.]

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/9tj6el/strapped_pt_1_futanari_futafem_fantasy

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