Vashti Valant - Slave of the Goblin

“I don’t…know what…you’re talking about,” panted Laya.

“We are safe down here. No magic penetrates the Sticky Tunnels. But up there, Zathstragomal can use the brand in my palm to overhear anything we say. That’s why I couldn’t tell you that Lathaniel is still alive. Or that I planned all along for us to escape, by this very route. But not so soon. Not unprepared. Your haste and mistrust may have ruined everything.”

He stopped rubbing her and backed away, leaving her bereft.

“Oh, gods,” breathed Laya. She tried to turn her head to look at him. “Oh, Akraz, are you telling me the truth?”

“I am now. I could not before.”

“I didn’t know. I couldn’t know.”

“You could have trusted me,” he said bitterly.

“Akraz, forgive me. Spank me, punish me, but don’t stay angry with me.”

“Well,” he said slowly. “You have been naughty indeed.”

She sagged with relief in the web to hear the teasing note return to his voice.

Then the strap hit her buttocks. Laya howled.

He must have doubled his leather belt. She could feel the hot, red welt burn in the aftermath of its kiss against her backside. He whipped her again, and this time, she bit her lip against any outcry, but tears sprang into her eyes. Her buttocks wagged back and forth under the rain of swift, hard licks of the leather. Not once did he relent, but not once either did he hit too hard and break her skin. He whipped her until her whole derrière felt on fire.

She heard him drop the belt and the rustling of his leather pants. It was maddening not to see him, not to know what he planned for her next, pain or pleasure.

With his cool, large hands, he explored the hot welts he had poured onto her nether cheeks. His gentle touch both soothed and tormented the sore flesh. He placed one hand on either cheek and spread them wide.

His cock nudged her from behind. With his hands, he tilted her hips up further, while keeping her cheeks spread. A quick check with his fingers informed him that she had grown wet during the whipping. It was all he needed to know.

His member drove forcefully into her from behind. The cock lifted and spread her, delving into her innermost parts and then teasing back. He kept his strokes slow and deliberate, using her thoroughly. His hands reasserted their position on her breasts as he worked her. He twisted and twirled her nipples into hard pebbles while he pierced her sex open again and again. She climaxed several times before he finished using her.

A final deep thrust and a shudder brought him to climax inside her. He sank against her back, as well spent as she felt owned.

“No more games,” Akraz promised when he finally took his sword to hack away the silken strands of the web that entrapped Laya. “We have no choice but to attempt our escape now. Although Zathstragomal can’t track us here in the Sticky Tunnels, he will suspect where we have gone. We won’t have another chance if we turn back now.”

“You will come with me?” Laya asked.

Akraz paused, suddenly unsure of himself. Who was he to presume a place in her life?

“Just until the end of goblin territory,” he said gruffly.

“Ah,” she said neutrally.

“Put this on.” Akraz handed her his surcoat Laya slipped it on. From the front, it passed for a short dress or long tunic, all in all decent enough. But the sides left her slender leg, belly and breast completely bare. He handed her his short sword. “And take this.”

He cleaned and shouldered his own sword. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed black shadows creeping toward them from various corners of the cavern. He scanned the eerie cave with growing alarm.

“Ah, Laya? I thought you said that the other spiders would not intrude on the territory of this one?”

Other spiders crept toward them, unmistakably.

“Oh no,” said Laya. “They must sense the spider that guarded this territory is dead. They are coming to fight over its place.”

“Great. A spider war.” He unsheathed his sword again. “Go ahead and say it.”

“Say what?”

“‘I told you so.’ We should not have stopped to dally in this accused place. I endangered you once again because of my petty lust.”

“Probably,” she said. “But I’ll have to spank you later.”

He did a double take.

Laya batted her lashes at him innocently. “Right now we have bugs to fight.”

The only thing that saved them was that the spiders were just as interested in fighting one another as in eating Laya and Akraz. Otherwise, the couple would have been swamped beneath the swarm of giant arachnids that converged to squabble over the corpse of their dead comrade.

For all that, it was a close thing. Laya killed only one giant spider. Akraz killed three. But the third bit him before he took it out, and poison swelled the bite into a mottled protrusion on his upper chest. He managed to stagger with Laya out of the large cavern into a smaller feeder corridor before he collapsed from pain and delirium.

With grim efficiency, Laya used the short sword to slash open the wound and drain as much of the poison as she could. A man of any lesser physique would have already succumbed to death from either the poison or the blood loss alone, never mind both combined. Akraz was goblin-tough, as hard as the rock bones of the mountain heart around them, but even he had his limits.

He knew it too. “You can still make it,” he wheezed to Laya. “Once I am cold, all I ask is that you cover my body with rocks, to keep it from becoming spider food. Then get out of here as fast as you can. Go back to your people. Go back to the Light where you belong.”

“Stop talking like that,” snapped Laya. “I’m not going to abandon you.”

“I’ll never make it to freedom now,” he said sadly. “It was never more than a dream to begin with. I was born a slave and will die a slave.”

“I said, stop that. I know you cannot make it all the way through the Sticky Tunnels now. Our only choice is to take you back to the goblin warrens for aid.”

“No!” His face turned ashen. “You will lose your only chance to escape.”

“I can’t let you die while I save myself. I did that to a friend once in my life already and have regretted it ever since. Who among the goblins acts as a healer?”

“No one. The sick are given a merciful death or else just pushed out into the public corridors to beg for crumbs until they die.”

“Marvelous society,” muttered Laya. “I do not think I can carry you all the way back to your own den, it’s too high up in the mountain, up past too many levels and too many checkpoints. Is there anyone you know, anyone trustworthy, who lives closer to this level?” “My sister,” he said reluctantly. “Her den is on one of the lower levels.” “You have a sister!” “Yes. Even goblins have families. But I have not seen her for some time.” “Will she take you in? Or turn you in?” “I don’t know.” He was fading fast. “We will have to risk it,” said Laya. “We will go to your sister’s.”

The only way Laya could carry Akraz was to create a makeshift travois using his own broadsword and spider webbing gathered from the walls. Fortunately, the older webbing was drier and less sticky than the fresh, though just as tough. Like all elves, Laya knew how to weave. Ironically, in Sylvindell, spider silk fetched a pretty penny, as one of the rarest and most difficult to find materials in Chavana. Laya had no loom, but her fingers worked a net of braided silk cords that she looped over the sword. She also made a harness for herself, to distribute the weight across her shoulders. Then she began the slog back through the dark stone tunnels.