Vashti Valant - Slave of the Goblin

He strode with her like a prize down the center of the goblin camp. His monstrous troops lined up to cheer and salute him on either side of an impromptu aisle. The goblins also laughed and jeered at Laya. Her tunic had been short but decent before Akraz had ripped off the bottom hem to make bindings. Now the ragged edge of the pale green tunic fluttered halfway up her buttocks, exposing them to all the rabble.

The dark wizard Zathstragomal himself stood waiting at the far end of the camp. Akraz somehow knew this; he walked straight for the wizard. Zathstragomal the Malicious wore trailing black robes embroidered in silver runes, but on his head he wore a horned iron helmet, much as Akraz had once worn. Unlike Akraz’s helm, however, the ostentatious horns on this helmet—they had a spread of over two feet—rendered it unsuitable for real battle. Zathstragomal obviously preferred show to substance.

Akraz tossed Laya at the wizard’s feet. With her hands bound, she could not catch her balance, and she fell to her knees before the wizard. The wizard smiled like a snake and reached out with his staff to force up Laya’s chin. Her emerald eyes flashed at him, but the gag prevented her from cursing him aloud.

“Perfect,” leered the wizard. “You have managed to capture one of the elves who captured you. I am pleased with you, Akraz. I will be even more pleased when you tell me that you have already broken her and forced her to tell us where the hidden forest citadel of her people lies.”

“Master.” Akraz bowed deeply. “I will break her, I promise. She has already learned to fear me. Soon she will crawl at my feet and give me whatever information you ask for.”

“She does not look frightened to me,” commented the wizard. “Perhaps I should undertake her breaking myself. In my tower.”

Akraz’s lips thinned. “Whatever my lord thinks best is best. But if he will give his humble servant a chance…”

The wizard laughed. “Yes, I can see why you lust after her. But let us see how far you have come with her before I agree to give her to your keeping. Untie her. Command her to service you.”

“Here? Now?”

“Do not try my patience, Akraz.”

“Yes, Master.”

Akraz bent over Laya to untie her. His face, his fanged and deformed goblin face, was drawn and bloodless. Clearly, he did not know what she would do if he freed her and tried to command her before his dark master and all his men.

“Your choice, Laya,” he hissed in her ear. “Me—or him.”

Laya clenched her fists as the bindings fell away. She longed to spit in Akraz’s face. Yet for all that Akraz had betrayed her, she still feared Zathstragomal’s tower more. She sensed true evil in Zathstragomal, evil she had never been able to find in Akraz, no matter what the goblin claimed.

Akraz stepped back. He spread his legs and placed his hands on his hips.

“Stand up, elf wench,” he commanded.

Slowly, rubbing her wrists, Laya obeyed.

“Come to me.”

She went to stand before him. His face was that of a stranger, cruel, ugly, fanged. His voice, though, his voice had not changed. It was as deep and sexy as ever.

“Pull down the shoulders of your tunic,” he said. “Display your breasts to me.”

Her face burned. Acutely aware of the hoots and jeers of the assembled goblins, Laya pulled the straps of her tunic down one by one, baring her breasts. Casually, as if it meant nothing to him, Akraz reached out and fondled the pale globes. He rubbed each nipple until it hardened in his hand. The goblins howled their approval.

“Spread your legs and lift your tunic.”

Tears pricked her eyes. Too low for anyone else to hear, she whispered, “Please, no more, Akraz.”

Those horrid beady purple eyes of his flashed in anger. “Now!”

A tear escaped her cheek at the degradation of it all. Yet again, she obeyed, and lifted the torn hem of her skirt to reveal her private parts to Akraz and all the world.

His hands left her breasts and lowered to her sex. His fingers, so familiar to her now, spread her lips gently and began to toy with her. The small flicks against her clit began to build the unforgettable sensations. Oh but not here, not now. She could not show her wantonness before this lewd crowd. Yet she began to dance helplessly on the tips of his fingertips, shutting her eyes to close out everything but the feel of him.

His fingers plunged deep into her sheath, and she came in his hands. He steadied her with another squeeze of her breast.

Zathstragomal clapped sarcastically. “Wonderful display. I take it back. You seem to have mastered her quite thoroughly. But don’t stop now, Akraz. You haven’t yet forced her to pleasure you. Why not show us how your little whore can polish your staff with her tongue?”

Akraz stiffened. Laya hoped he would refuse. Instead, he only performed a hateful little bow and murmured, “As you wish, Master.”

“Wench,” ordered Akraz. “Crawl on your knees before me.”

Tears streaked Laya’s cheeks. “I can’t do this, Akraz.”

He knew it. It was the one act they had never done. Despite her strange longing to try it, she had never been able to take him into her mouth.

But this Akraz was not her Akraz. This Akraz was docile to a foul wizard and ruthless with her. This Akraz shoved her down by her shoulders and grabbed her head by her hair to push her face up against his groin.

“Unfasten my pants, wench,” he ordered. “With your teeth.”

She struggled to obey. His black leather pants laced up the crotch. It was a matter of tugging at the lacing with her teeth to loosen it. When she had the lacings loose, his erect cock bobbed free of its own accord.

By all the gods, he was huge.

“Lick me,” he said.

She darted her little pink tongue toward the throbbing red member. The soft licks from her tongue induced a tremendous growth spurt in the cock, engorging it.

“Harder.”

Laya made her strokes longer and stronger, starting from the where his staff emerged from his balls and a thatch of dark, coiling hair, up to the glistening head. She heard him stifle a moan.

“Take it in you mouth,” he said.

But there she balked. With a flush of pure panic, Laya scrambled away from Akraz, his all too tempting cock, her own roiling emotions. The crowd and the wizard no longer even mattered to her. She had forgotten their existence. All she knew was that she must run away from Akraz and what she wanted to do to him.

Goblins blocked her escape. Akraz caught her from behind and threw her roughly to the ground.

“What in the Thirteen Hells are you doing?” he said furiously.

Her impossible situation rushed back in on her. Laya stared bleakly at Akraz, accusing and apologizing in the same wordless look.

The horrid wizard, Zathstragomal, wheezed in what passed for laughter. “Well, well,” he sneered. “I spoke too soon. Your slave is defying you. How will you punish her, Akraz? We will want to see this as well.” Ugly pleasure shone in his face. “Even more, I think.”

The goblins in the crowd helpfully called out suggestions.

“Roast her alive!”

“Make her walk through a pit of scorpions!”

“Beat her with a hot iron!”

“Perhaps you should whip her,” suggested Zathstragomal. “With a rose bouquet.”

A rose bouquet? Laya puzzled. That sounded far to tame for the likes of Zathstragomal.

Nor did Akraz like the suggestion. Though he never openly defied his lord, he asked diffidently, “May I chose her punishment, Master?”

“Of course. I am eager to see what you come up with.”

“I intend to spank her,” said Akraz. “With my bare hand against her bare bottom.”

Zathstragomal shrugged, obviously disappointed, but he did not naysay the suggestion.