Snarfulk Warhub – Week-of-Bees, 5th Cycle, Wednesday
Ork sexuality can seem brutal and horrific from the perspective of a Human unused to the pleasures of sadomasochism. Pain, humiliation, domination and submission are all fundamental to Ork erotic culture. For many readers this will no doubt reinforce negative stereotypes of a cruel and barbaric society, but in order to truly understand Ork sexuality we must put such prejudices aside and attempt to understand Ork sex acts for what they are: deeply pleasurable and profoundly erotic experiences.
I first witnessed Ork sex in a drinking tent in Snarfulk Warhub, a large Ork settlement on Helth Steppe. I was invited to the tent by Hagak Kazklab, a professional brawler in the Snarfulk Combat League. Brawling is a traditional style of unarmed combat that is a crowd favourite among aficionados of the sport, and Hagak is a minor celebrity for her hyper-aggressive style. I was put in touch with her by my old colleague Primrose Crick—the foremost Human expert on Ork culture and language.
Illustration 9.1 – Click image to hide/show clothing
Hagak was somewhat shy during our initial meeting and seemed reluctant to talk about her sex life. I did not press her, and we spoke, instead, of the various forms of combat in which Orks take such pleasure. It was only later that I realized that Hagak was flirting with me during this first encounter. For Orks, the thrill of combat and the thrill of arousal are identical.
At around midnight I heard a commotion coming from over by the entrance to the tent. I looked up to see a gang of large, burly Orks making their way towards the bar, knocking over tables and shoving other patrons out of their way as they went. There were five of them, all male, and they were bigger than anyone else in the place by a clear foot.
Hagak nudged me and gave me a wink: “My lovers approach,” she whispered. “Stay out of the way.”
The largest of the gang pointed a clawed finger at Hagak and shouted something in Hrukuk that I did not understand 1. Hagak stood up from her stool and glared around her, her arms raised in fighting stance. She screamed back at the five newcomers and spat one the floor. The patrons at the nearby tables quickly backed away, fear and excitement in their eyes.
There then began the most spectacular and impressive fight I have ever witnessed. The five Orks set upon Hagak at once, using grappling techniques to try to pin her. Hagak fought back with her fists and bare feet, striking out viciously at her assailants, drawing blood almost immediately. At first, Hagak’s attacks looked desperate. She seemed to fight like a wild animal, lashing out with rage and fear, but the longer I watched the clearer it became that her fighting was absolutely disciplined and precise. Each move was calculated to keep her attacker’s at bay while leaving them no openings. There was a strange and unfamiliar beauty to it. The fight must have been brief, but from my perspective it seemed to last an age. I do not remember being frightened—although I suppose I must have been—I just remember a sense of fascination. I have never been a fan of combat sports, but there was such a ferocious intensity to Hagak’s movements that I found it impossible to look away. The world around me seemed to fade, and all that mattered was this all-consuming moment of violent struggle.
Hagak succumbed to the five giant Orks. She never stood a chance, but when they had finally grappled her to the ground and pinned her there they had more than their share of bruises and bloody noses. Hagak struggled beneath them, foaming at the mouth. Her assailants tore off her loincloth and armour plates, stripping her naked on the muddy floor of the drinking tent, in front of a crowd of chanting onlookers, and then they had her, one after another, while she shouted and spat in their faces.
They left her shuddering and panting on the ground, covered in mud, sweat and bodily fluids. I looked stared down at her, wide-eyed and mute. Then she opened her eyes and smiled up at me, a look of unmistakable satisfaction on her face. “Delicious,” she whispered.
After that Hagak was ebullient. She pulled on her clothes carelessly, not bothering to fully cover her mud-smeared breasts, and ordered a round of drinks. We stayed at the bar for hours and she gushed about the experience, describing it with giddy excitement and referring to her lovers with tender affection. She explained the meaning of the word “Mshiktar,” which translates as “lover-adversary.” She explained that Orks experience the adrenaline rush of fighting as urgent sexual need, and that sex and combat are always inextricably linked.
I asked if she had consented to what had happened, and she told me that she had not only consented, but had arranged the whole thing. “I asked Braggjk to bring four others tonight,” she explained. “It is essential that the struggle be real. I would have easily overpowered a single lover-adversary, which would have ruined everything.” She grinned, proudly. “Professional fighters who wish to have submissive sex require a lot of friends, you see?”
She told me that all Orks are what we would call “switches 2” , who enjoy both domination and submission. “We are a warrior culture,” she explained. “There is as much glory is defeat as in victory. It is the gut-wrenching intensity of the catharsis that counts, not winning or losing. Either way, the tensions of the battle are gloriously resolved.”
I must admit that I was nervous about making my proposition. I spent a good half-hour gathering my courage. I knew if I didn’t at least suggest it I would regret it later, so I finally took a deep breath and said: “Hagak, will you be my lover-adversary?”
She smiled at me, baring her fangs, and then she was upon me. I might as well have put up no resistance at all. She slammed me to the ground, knocking the wind from my lungs. As I gasped for breath she wrapped the clawed fingers of her right hand around my wrists and held pinned my arms to the ground above my head. She pushed her knees my thighs, forcing my legs apart and with her free hand she tore my clothes from my body. Within a matter of seconds I was naked and completely at her mercy. I tried to squirm out from under her, but it was futile. I was utterly powerless beneath her. Hagak is not much heavier than I am, but she might as well have weighed a thousand tonnes.
As other patrons gathered to watch the commotion Hagak began to grind her hips against mine, rubbing the soft, supple leather of her loin cloth against my vulva. Even though I had asked her to do it, even though I knew she would not hurt me, I felt an overpowering helplessness that edged into fear.
I do not pretend that I experienced anything like what Hagak had experienced earlier that evening, but the surge of adrenaline I felt made my heart pound and my breathing became fast, shallow and ragged. As I lay there in the mud, totally under Hagak’s control, I got a taste of how fear, submission and arousal can blend into one another. The physical sensations of my fear and helplessness were identical with those of my arousal.