CHAPTER 60: CHAPTER : 60 : THE CHUGH’S FEAST!

The great hall of Chugh was lit with roaring green-tinted flames, fire pits stretching down the length of the stone chamber. The walls were draped in hides of conquered beasts, skulls mounted like trophies. The scent of roasted meat, sweat, and spiced alcohol filled the air, heavy enough to choke lesser men.

At the head of the feast table, King Hrothgar of the Hobgoblins sat like a bloated spider on his throne of bones, his tusked mouth splitting into a cruel grin. Beside him sat King Garruk, the Orc ruler, his massive green fists drumming against the oak table with impatience.

"Tonight," Hrothgar declared, raising a goblet of black wine, "we celebrate the union of strength—Chugh and the Orc Dominion as one. And soon, we will crush the Grimclaws, and that so-called Beast Tamer."

A chorus of laughter, roars, and the pounding of mugs against wood shook the hall.

Below them, the feast stretched on: roasted boars, overflowing jugs of ale, platters of blood sausages and dripping meats. Hobgoblin generals gorged themselves, their fangs tearing into food with the same hunger their eyes laid upon the women dancing between the tables.

They were elf captives, human slaves, beastkin taken from border raids—dressed in sheer silks, breasts barely covered, hips swaying under command. Every few minutes, one of them was dragged onto a general’s lap, forced to grind against armored thighs while the men barked their drunken approval.

One hobgoblin commander slammed his mug down and pulled a shrieking beastkin fox-girl onto the table itself. Her tail flailed as he bent her over a platter of roasted meat, tugging her silks aside and ramming into her from behind with a growl. The hall erupted into cheers, the other men laughing and thrusting their hips mockingly into the air.

The King smirked at the display, not even glancing at the poor girl’s muffled moans as her face pressed against greasy wood. To him, it was proof—his men were wolves, and this was the hunt.

"Strength," King Garruk rumbled, raising his mug. "Strength and seed. That is how we grow. That is how we take."

"Spoken like a true ally." Hrothgar raised his goblet back. "The Grimclaws think themselves clever, hiding behind walls and their little princess. But soon enough, she’ll be bent over this very table, like the rest."

The men slammed their mugs again, the sound of iron and bone echoing through the hall.

Down the table, the feast only grew more debauched. Generals pawed at breasts, sucking nipples with drunken slurps while others forced women to their knees beneath the table, mouths stuffed with cock as the men continued their conversations like it was nothing.

One orc warlord laughed as the elf under him gagged, his hand fisting in her hair. "Swallow, bitch," he growled, slamming her down to the hilt. Her muffled cries vibrated against him, the sound lost in the chaos of laughter, roars, and the endless rhythm of feasting and fucking.

It was not merely a banquet. It was a demonstration. Every moan, every thrust, every broken woman on display was proof of dominance—the kind of dominance these kings planned to extend over nations.

At the high seat, King Hrothgar leaned toward Garruk, his voice low and venomous.

"The Beast Tamer is the true threat. They say he makes monsters into wives, bends them with affection instead of chains. Disgusting." He spat into the fire. "Love is weakness. Lust is strength. We’ll show the world the difference."

King Garruk grinned, tusks gleaming. "Then let us start with his women. I hear one of them is a beautiful wolf kin slut. Would be fitting to chain her up and parade her here, make her watch while her ’husband’ bleeds on the floor. And fuck her infront of her husband."

Their laughter echoed like thunder.

The women continued to dance, hips swaying as the drumbeats pounded louder. Another slave was shoved onto her back atop a platter, fruit and grease sticking to her skin as two hobgoblins grabbed her thighs. Her scream was swallowed by the roar of men as they entered her at once, one in her cunt, the other forcing her lips apart with his cock. Her body jerked, breasts bouncing with every thrust, until she was reduced to muffled, gurgling moans beneath the weight of them.

And still, the feast continued, politics and cruelty tangled into one.

Finally, the hall fell to a hush when a new figure entered.

Kin, his stupid son, strode into the firelit hall.

"My King." Kin bowed low, whispering to his ear, holding out a sealed scroll. "I bring word... from Thristle."

At the name, the King’s grin widened. He took the letter and read. His blood boiled, but slowly, a deep, rumbling laugh built in his chest until it shook the hall.

"Well, well..." He crushed the letter in his fist. "It seems our little princess has already betrayed her people." He whispered to himself.

The Ogre King’s gaze slid sideways, almost bored with his son’s tantrum. "Sit. You are a prince, not a starving dog."

But Kin would not be caged. His fury boiled. He stood abruptly, snapping his fingers toward the side chambers.

"You, you, you, and you—come."

Four women—human slaves, beast Kim, elf, and goblin dressed in tattered silks that barely covered their trembling bodies—rushed forward, heads bowed but unable to hide the fear in their eyes. Their ankles jingled with thin chains.

Without another word, Kin turned on his heel and stormed from the council hall, his boots striking hard against the stone. The women followed in quick steps, led toward the private chambers down the corridor.

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END OF Chapter : 60 : THE CHUGH’S FEAST!

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