“I can’t believe someone is really still betting against you,” hissed Abaroth, a red-scaled Setek. “Amusing.”
Setek were a race of snakes, except they had humanoid features. In addition to their considerable size and intelligence, a broad chest with four powerful arms and hands distinguished them from conventional snakes.
“I don’t need gold, I never did,” Bluood Tusk replied as he took a bite of his roasted leg of meat and smacked it in a less than mannerly fashion. He and all the surviving fighters had just had dinner. “It’s worthless. I get everything without gold.”
“Yes, you always say that,” said Abaroth. Every few seconds, his forked tongue flickered out. “If you’d grown up outside these walls, gold would be everything to you.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Blood Tusk murmured unconcernedly. He just didn’t see it that way, but he respected Abaroth and that could be said of almost no one in the arena. The Setek always spoke his mind openly, without a split tongue, and Blood Tusk appreciated that. The troll paid more attention to behavior and actions.
Besides, Abaroth had also been one of the best fighters since his arrival 5 years ago. “Is that what you think? With gold, you could have everything. All the food, all the females, everything."
“I have that anyway, don’t I?”
“Because of the pucks,” Abaroth emphasized. Unlike the troll, he only ate small, almost puny meatballs. “The pucks have more gold than anyone else. They’ll buy you anything with it. Your food, your females, everything, and no, you don’t have everything.”
Didn’t Blood Tusk have that? This statement aroused a small but rare curiosity in him. “And what don’t I have?”
“Freedom.”
Freedom. Blood Tusk had heard several fighters talk about this term, but it was as unreal to him as the gold so coveted by many. He knew no freedom. His life had been this arena ever since he could remember as a little whelp. “I have no need for it either.”
Setek looked around first. He spoke honestly to the troll, but the snake was worldly enough to not let his words reach the wrong ears, puck ears to be exact. “Only because you don’t know it. You think this is paradise just because the pucks give you the simplest things as long as you fill their bags. But there’s so much more.”
“I like simple,” Blood Tusk said and wiped his mouth. His curiosity was still there. “But you’ve been here a few midsummers. You know freedom. Why are you talking about it now?”
“And everyone always says your head is empty,” Abaroth said pointedly, but not dismissively. He was right.
Everyone thought that of Blood Tusk and it was often true because he simply had no idea about the world. However, the troll’s many silences concealed potential and an alert mind. “Not much inside, no,” he admitted. It didn’t bother him and he scratched his head. Patient as a stone and perseverance, on the other hand, were better qualities. “So fill my head. Why are you talking about this?”
“Supposedly, we’re going on a journey.”
“A journey? Where to?”
“One for mountains of gold,” Abaroth said with certainty. Though his knowledge was only whispered among the fighters, the rumors were true. “The pucks will take us deep into the jungle. We’re fighting in a different arena.”
“Rarity,” Blood Tusk noted. Fighting elsewhere was something he actually had an overview of, because it happened every 2 to 3 years at most and it made no difference to him. The other arenas were hardly any different from his. One had once been made entirely of wood and another had been underground. That was all he had ever seen outside, because on the way there he always sat in a sealed-off cage. Only the smells, strange, unfamiliar smells, had taken hold of his mind for reasons unknown to him, but it was simply in his trollish nature. That’s why his nose now wiggled unconsciously and for a fleeting moment, he thought of the outside world. “And where?”
Abaroth hoisted his head in amusement. “Would the name do you any good?”
“You started it. Finish it too.”
“Words as sharp as a blade. You really should never be underestimated,” Abaroth said in surprise. He would never take the troll so lightly in a fight. “I don’t know the where, only the why. Supposedly three hostile troll tribes want to settle a dispute by holding bloody games.”
Blood Tusk saw no point in these games. “If they’re fighting, why are we fighting? Are they too weak?”
“The pucks must have been promised veritable mountains of riches,” surmised Abaroth grimly. He gripped the table in front of him with all four hands and cracked the wood. “We are to be the trials so that the weak troll warriors are weeded out until only the most worthy are left and then they compete against each other. Do you know what that means?”
Talk was not Blood Tusk’s world, but his alert mind grasped words. “So long,” he murmured quietly. “Do they really think we’ll fall at some point?”
“It looks that way, and that means the pucks must be richly rewarded if they’re willing to put up with it.”
“I don’t see any difference,” said Bluood Tusk. He harbored no ill will toward the pucks. “Every time we’re in the arena, they put up with us dying.”
“Maybe, but the point of these fights is that we’re supposed to fall eventually,” Abaroth laughed, in the face of death. “If we kill every troll warrior, the tribes will have no one left to settle their dispute.”
“After I’ve finished off every opponent, the dispute is settled,” Blood Tusk said unintentionally dryly. It was a simple truth for him and not because he wanted to help the tribes. “If they don’t have anyone left to fight, how are they supposed to fight?”
“That will be a story,” Abaroth nodded. Although he thought there was much less chance of survival, that didn’t mean he didn’t want to live and wouldn’t fight to the last. “No one will believe us when we get back here.”
“I don’t care,” Blood Tusk lifted his shoulders as he stood up. What mattered to him was what he knew. In the fighters’ quarters, he only wore a cloth apron, which barely concealed his enormous blessing. “It’s still a long way off anyway. Now is more important.”
“Now, eh?” Abaroth replied forebodingly. “You’re lucky there are so many troll women here. I so rarely get a Setek and have to make do with other races.”
“You don’t have to,” said Blood Tusk as he left the table. “I never would. I only want troll females.”
“You say that now. I wonder if that would be the case if your cock hadn’t cum in weeks,” Abaroth added doubtfully and he laughed again. “What am I saying weeks. You’d be ready to make do with non-trolls after just three days.”
Blood Tusk left this uncommented, for like so many things, these words were not for the here and now and this promised to fulfill his expectations. Even as he walked along the moderately torch-lit corridor, his nose wriggled in anticipation. The first puffs of that scent were unmistakable. A female troll was very close and her note led to Blood Tusk’s personal chamber.
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That was all the small room was. Even for less stout bodies, it was very cramped here and only a soft tiger skin adorned the floor as a place to sleep. There was also a bucket of fresh water and an illuminating lantern on the far wall.
As on many evenings, even when there had been no battles to reward, a female troll with light blue skin was waiting for the warrior. She was also a Slav, even if Blood Tusk did not see himself that way, but he was. Her body was covered only by a skimpy hip skirt and a cloth wrap that spanned her manageable breasts. “Welcome,” the woman smiled. Depending on the subspecies, there were certain differences in trolls, in shape and skin color. On the whole, however, they were often very similar, like this female. Like most troll females, she was tall, about 2.20 meters tall and also had tusks. However, the tusks of female trolls were much smaller and curved upwards, barely higher than the upper lip. “I thought you weren’t coming at all.”
“And miss a beauty like you? No,” Blood Tusk flattered directly. “Just needed to strengthen myself before I mount you now.”
“A mighty warrior like you has to strengthen himself for me?” the woman asked sheepishly. The darkening of her cheeks was clearly visible through her pale blue skin, even if the question was a trained one. In the brothel, it was her job to make every customer feel like they were the best. “You’re exaggerating.”
“I always mean what I say,” Blood Tusk replied as he untied his own apron and got down on his knees. Nevertheless, he still towered over the female immensely as he reached for her thighs and pulled her towards him. “And I want you.” He was dominant and strong and possessed a certain rough pulling power, but despite this, Blood Tusk was never rough with women. In his opinion, only weak males treated a female badly or even forced themselves on her. “If you want me.”
Briefly, the surprised female sucked in a breath and she cowered in awe rather than fear at this mountain of muscle. “Yes, more than anything,” the woman whose name was Tar’ja nodded slowly. Of course, there was a certain amount of compulsion involved. She was a slave, which was why giving her name made little sense to her, and she had orders to give the fighter a good time. “I’ve waited so long for this chance ... I get out of the brothel for a night. Maybe even longer.”
“Every female deserves to be treated well,” Blood Tusk said with desire. He took something from every shape and size when it came to his partners. You could say he adored women in his own way, although this one was more the norm.
Everything about her was where it should be and how it should be, but there was no particular standout feature. “Then show me how well you treat females,” Tar’ja swallowed hard. She was more than experienced and yet her knees trembled at being allowed to mate with this titan of a fighter. From a foreigner’s point of view, troll males were remarkably endowed anyway, but even for trolls, Bluood Tusk was extra blessed, although that wasn’t the only thing that attracted the slave. “I want ... your blood.”
That Tar’ja, and so many others before her, were allowed to join the arena champion purely as a reward was far from the truth. Even in this reward, there was a potential profit for the pucks. Blood Tusk was extremely prolific and they used him as a breeding troll, selling his many whelps. Sometimes even rich troll females paid to lie with him for a night. He had never worried about that. Bonds, family or whatever it was called, were missing from his understanding. The only thing that mattered to him was that the females wanted his blood. For him, it was a sign of superiority and his position in this small arena world. For female slaves, a possible pregnancy, or being pregnant, meant that they were allowed to perform much easier and gentler services until the birth. This was especially true if the probable father had a status such as Blood Tusk. Among pucks, there was nothing that shouldn’t somehow bring a profit.
For Blood Tusk, however, these were unknown and above all inconsequential things. His lust burned in his veins, heated by the victorious fight, making the drops of sweat bead over his broad arms and chest. His thoughts were clear: he was the strongest, he was alive - he deserved this female.
Tar’ja, meanwhile, curiously explored the lower, well-toned biceps of his belly. As the whore of the brothel, she had seen and heard far more than he had, but compared to the reputation of such a renowned fighter, her life was merely ordinary and she would savor every second of this night.
Blood Tusk could not only saw that, but also heared it in her rapturous sounds. The giant’s nose wriggled as he detected a new and all too familiar scent.
When both troll females and males were sexually aroused, their bodies exuded an enticing mating scent. Only fine troll noses could separate the minimal differences and them from the basic essence of the luring scent. Tar’ja smelled like freshly fallen rain, despite the constant presence of seawater in the air. Blood Tusk, on the other hand, had a pleasant earthy smell.
A throaty growl of pleasure escaped Bluood Tusk’s lips and he bent over the female. His privates and bulging testicles pressed against Tar’ja’s forecourt and she felt the pleasant warmth of the pumping blood flowing between the male’s legs. Blood Tusk’s right hand settled on the female’s breast from the side and he slowly rotated the firm flesh, only to slide it from there to her neck.
Tar’ja’s jugular veins pulsed no less vividly and her eyes stared up at the warrior’s as she turned her head to the side. This brought the troll’s hand between her lips and she bit gently, only to scrape her fingers across his hip further down.
It was certainly painful, but trolls didn’t just mate intensely and passionately in the classic sense. Touching, smelling, this was topped off with a certain rawness with bites, scratches and the taste of the partner’s blood. They didn’t have to worry about wounds or permanent scars, as trolls were extremely self-healing.
There was also a playful aspect to it, as Blood Tusk pushed his bitten hand to the left and right, but the female did not let go of him so quickly. Only when he got his face very close to hers and fixed her head in a pose did she open her mouth.
Blood ran from the corners of her mouth and she lapped up some of the red lifeblood, but left the rest where it was. Not only did it make her look wild, but she moaned accordingly.
Blood Tusk’s left hand had found its way between the female’s thighs and he knew exactly what he was doing. That meant not going into overdrive immediately. The females had to melt with lust, which is why he only applied pressure to the outer labia with his fingers. In combination with his pressing hips and heated cock, Blood Tusk really got his partner in the mood.
Tar’ja’s eyes fell closed. As a slave in a brothel, sex was often not as she would like it to be and the clients did not fixate on her pleasure. However, it did happen, like now. The forceful rubbing turned into a fingering and out of reflex alone, she placed her legs against his flanks. Tar’ja planted her feet firmly in the tiger’s fur to release the tension and moan softly.
Filled with this woolly sound, Bluthauer’s long ears wiggled. The female was enjoying and had tasted him, so he wanted the same. Breathing hotly, he buried his face against Tar’ja’s neck. His pointed, large tusks were skillfully guided past her and he pressed his nose intensely against her throbbing jugular. His tongue also tasted her. Instead of biting her, however, he nibbled teasingly on her neck.
Tar’ja breathed in short puffs and the giant managed to send her lust on undulating waves of ecstasy, step by step, instead of letting it explode in one fell swoop. She rewarded him by wrapping her fingers around his cock and massaging it with slow movements.
Spurred on by this, Blood Tusk thrust his hips towards her rubbing hand and the tip of his glans slid along her thigh again and again, leaving drops of his pre-cum sticking to it.
This foreplay went on for several minutes and Tar’ja’s pelvis began to tremble. They were just small twitches, but they promised her anticipation of greater delights. “Turn me over,” she breathed quickly. “Mount me from behind!”
It didn’t take Blood Tusk two seconds from the word to the skillful, flowing turn. He had often experienced that his females liked to be mounted in this way. He didn’t know it, but dominance and submission were deeply rooted in trolls. From this point onwards, he took much more control and pressed himself harder against Tar’ja’s back. He let her feel him clearly and bit into her shoulder to finally taste her blood. The warm red rushed through Blood Tusk’s senses and intensified his instincts considerably. Now he just wanted to take this female and released his bloody lips from her shoulder. One hand gripped Tar’ja in the same place and the other hand briefly helped the giant to place his glans against the female’s wet labia. He had to control himself not to make a single, hard thrust. His penetration was smooth, but he slid in with relish.
Tar’ja clenched her hands into fists and pressed them firmly into the tiger skin. She arched her back and laid her face into the bed mat, panting. The fact that he could fill her like this was clearly an advantage for the warrior, but she had seen in foreplay that he could heat up a female’s delights without his cock.
The arena and this were Blood Tusk’s greatest strengths, and they were both things he enjoyed doing. So what could be better? What else would he need? Weak thoughts that were quickly displaced by desire. Now he just wanted to fuck this female. After he grabbed her hips and his hands guided her there and noticeably on her shoulder, his pelvis followed the beat. Blood Tusk didn’t quite manage to restrain himself and picked up the pace a little.
This fact didn’t bother Tar’ja in the slightest and her moans made more than one of the other arena fighters within these walls envious. The wetness of her pleasure flower emphasized this, as each thrust made a sinful smacking sound echo off the stone walls. Tar’ja was completely spellbound and horny, like the arena fighter. That night, the troll female would be taken more than once and even if she couldn’t be sure yet, her wish would come true. Tar’ja would carrie the seed of Blood Tusk in her womb after this intense night, like so many before her.
