Gorthok's inspection was thorough and unyielding. He ran his hands over every inch of Eira's body, his calloused palms rough against her soft skin. He examined her muscles, testing their firmness and strength, as if she were a prized steed. He pinched and prodded, his touch bordering on painful, but Eira remained still, her breath steady and her eyes cast downwards.

He turned her around, his hands gripping her hips and spinning her like a piece of meat. He inspected her back, her shoulders, her arms, his touch impersonal and clinical. He ran a finger down her spine, tracing the line of her vertebrae, and Eira felt a shiver run down her back.

Then, he turned his attention to her most intimate areas. He grabbed her chin, tilting her head up, and examined her mouth. He ran a thick finger along her lips, pushing it inside, testing her tongue and teeth. Eira felt a wave of embarrassment, but she kept her mouth open, her tongue compliant.

"Wider," Gorthok growled, and Eira obeyed, stretching her jaw as wide as it would go. He grunted in approval, then withdrew his finger, wiping it on her hair.

Next, he turned his attention to her nether regions. He grabbed her hips, lifting her up and placing her on a nearby table. Eira felt the cold wood against her skin, and she braced herself, her hands gripping the edge of the table.

Gorthok pushed her legs apart, his hands rough and insistent. He examined her intimately, his fingers probing her folds, her entrance, her most sensitive spots. Eira felt a surge of humiliation, but also a spark of something else. Something she didn't want to acknowledge.

Gorthok was thorough, his touch impersonal yet invasive. He tested her sensitivity, her responsiveness, as if she were a musical instrument he was tuning. He pinched her clit, and Eira gasped, her body jerking involuntarily. Gorthok grunted, a satisfied sound, and Eira felt a flush of shame. She was responding to his touch, her body betraying her.

Finally, Gorthok stepped back, his inspection complete. Eira remained on the table, her body tense, her breath coming in short gasps. She felt humiliated, objectified, yet also strangely aroused.

"Kneel," Gorthok commanded, his voice harsh. Eira slid off the table, her body moving automatically into the slave position she had been trained in. She knelt before him, her head bowed, her hands clasped behind her head.

Gorthok walked around her, his boots thudding on the stone floor. He stopped in front of her, and Eira could see his massive form looming over her. She could feel his presence, his power, and she felt a shiver of fear, of anticipation.

"Good," Gorthok said, his voice gruff. "You've learned well, elf. You're almost ready."

Eira felt a surge of pride at his words, followed by a wave of shame. She was proud to have pleased her master, proud to have been broken and molded into his perfect slave. And that realization terrified her.

Gorthok reached down, his hand cupping her chin, tilting her head up. His eyes bored into hers, and Eira felt a shiver run down her spine.

"But you're not there yet," he said, his voice low. "You still have much to learn, elf. And I will enjoy teaching you." Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and desire. She knew that her training was far from over, and she steeled herself for what was to come.

~

The morning sun streamed through the small, high window of Eira's chamber, casting a soft glow on the cold stone floor. She woke with a start, her body still aching from the previous day's inspection. She lay on the thin pallet in the corner, her hands automatically moving to her collar, tracing the leather band that now felt like a permanent fixture around her neck.

As she sat up, she found her mind racing with thoughts of her situation. She was a slave, a plaything for the orc warlord Gorthok. She had offered herself to him in exchange for her life, and now she was bound to him, body and soul. She felt a pang of fear, of uncertainty, but also a strange sense of acceptance. She had made her choice, and she would see it through.

Eira stood up, her body moving automatically into the "waiting slave" position. She had been trained to assume this position whenever she was not given explicit orders, and it had become second nature to her. She knelt, her legs spread wide, her hands on her head, her back straight, her eyes cast downwards.

She remained in this position for what felt like an eternity, her mind wandering, her body growing stiff. Then, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. She tensed, her body preparing for the command that was to come.

Gorthok's voice cut through the silence, harsh and commanding. "Breakfast."

Eira stood, her body moving automatically to the kitchen. She began to prepare the meal, her hands moving with practiced ease. The smell of food filled the air, making her stomach growl, but she did not dare to eat. Not until Gorthok gave her the command.

Once the meal was prepared, Gorthok ordered her to present it to him. She carried the plate to him, her head bowed, her body steady and trained. Gorthok took the plate, his eyes scanning the food, then dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

Eira moved into the "exposed slave" position. She squatted, her legs spread wide, her hands on her head, her back straight, her eyes cast downwards. She could feel Gorthok's eyes on her, could feel his gaze burning into her most intimate parts.

Suddenly, Gorthok threw a scrap of food to the floor in front of her. "Fetch," he commanded, his voice cold.

Eira hesitated for a moment, then kneeled and leaned forward, her mouth open, her hands behind her back. She inched forward, her body moving awkwardly, her tongue reaching out to touch the food. She could taste the salt, the grease, the remnants of Gorthok's meal, until she had retrieved and eaten the scrap. She licked the spot clean, as she is expected to, and quickly went back to her position, her body shaking, her breath coming in short gasps.

"Thank you, master," she said, her voice steady despite the humiliation churning in her stomach.

Gorthok watched her, his eyes never leaving her body. Eira could feel his gaze, could feel the heat of his eyes on her skin. She felt a shiver of unease, of anticipation. She knew that this was just the beginning of her day, and that whatever came next would be a test of her obedience, her endurance, her submission.

Gorthok walked around her, his eyes scanning her body, assessing her.

"Dance," he commanded, and Eira felt a surge of surprise. She had been trained to dance, to move her body in ways that pleased her master, but she had not expected to be ordered to do so so early in the day.

She began to move, her body swaying and twisting in a slow, sensuous dance. She could feel Gorthok's eyes on her, could feel his gaze burning into her skin. She danced for what felt like hours, her body growing tired, her muscles aching, but she did not stop. She could not stop. Not until Gorthok gave her the command.

Finally, when Eira thought she could dance no more, Gorthok ordered her to stop. She collapsed to the floor, her body spent, her breath coming in short gasps. She knelt before him, her head bowed, her hands on her head, her body shaking with exhaustion.

Gorthok walked over to her, his boots thudding on the stone floor. He reached down, his hand cupping her chin, tilting her head up. His eyes bored into hers, and Eira felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Good," he said, his voice low. "But you can do better. I know you can."

Eira felt a surge of pride at his words, followed by a wave of determination. She would do better. She would please her master.

"Clean," he commanded, and Eira felt a surge of relief. She was tired, her body aching, but the thought of cleaning, of doing something productive, was welcome.

She began to clean the chamber, her body moving automatically, her hands scrubbing and wiping, her eyes never leaving the floor. She cleaned every inch of the chamber.

As she did her duties, she could feel Gorthok's eyes on her, and could feel his gaze burning into her skin. She knew that he was watching her, assessing her, and she was determined to please him.

Finally, when the chamber was spotless, Gorthok ordered her to stop. Eira stood before him, her body shaking with exhaustion, her breath coming in short gasps. She knelt before him, her head bowed, her hands on her head, her body ready for whatever command came next.

Gorthok walked over to her, his boots thudding on the stone floor. He reached down, his hand cupping her chin, tilting her head up. His eyes bored into hers, and Eira felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Good," he said, his voice low. "You've pleased me today, elf. But remember, you are mine. You exist for my pleasure, my amusement, my command. You will obey me without question, without hesitation. Do you understand?"

Eira nodded, her eyes locked on Gorthok's. "Yes, master," she said, her voice steady. "I understand."

Gorthok released her chin, then turned and walked away, leaving Eira kneeling on the cold stone floor, her body aching, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. She knew that her day was far from over, that her training was far from complete, but she also knew that she was strong enough to endure. She was strong enough to please her master. And that was all that mattered.