Vashti Valant - Slave of the Goblin

The swans left their lake to waddle up to the shore next to the black swan. At the same time, most oddly, the flock of peacocks spread their plumage to its full fan and strutted to meet the swans. Blue and white birds congregated together for all the world as though awaiting the commencement of some grand event of sober concern to both flocks of birds.

When the silvery moonlight touched the garden, an amazing transformation overtook the birds. In place of the swans stood a row of exquisite pale skinned young women, nude except for diamond jewels and white-feathered skirts around their hips. The skirts flared up like tutus without hiding their hairless vulvas. Those pink nether lips were also pierced with diamonds and pearls. Where the pack of peacocks had been stood a row handsome youths. Each youth wore nothing but a permanently erect codpiece held by a harness of sapphires and emeralds and a plumage of peacock feathers somehow affixed to their backsides. Laya stared harder, then blushed to realize that the feather plumage attached to an anal plug held in place by the harness.

One damsel stood out because of her full, formal dress. She wore black brocade embroidered with silver, and a silver tiara and black veil crowned her thickly piled black hair. Her ruffed collar reached to her chin. Black gloves tucked under long sleeves. Compared with the seminudity of the others, her modesty was ostentatious.

She had been the black swan, without doubt. Unlike the others, who had been chained together as birds and remained chained together now, she moved freely. She also took command of the youths and maidens. At a snap of her fingers, they arranged themselves into twin columns, the order determined by how they were chained. At the front of this parade, she led the two columns across the bridge to where Laya stood.

“Welcome,” said the damsel in black. She spoke with cold formality, haughty but oddly neutral, neither friendly nor hostile. Despite her air of authority, she was very young, barely a full-grown woman. “I am Strathgora, Zathstragomal’s daughter. Welcome to the Garden of Poisons.”

Laya attempted a curtsy, aware of her state of crude dress. “Thank you, my lady. Please tell me, if you would, why I have been brought here.”

“No doubt my father wishes to play with you,” shrugged Strathgora. It was not a very reassuring answer. Strathgora gestured to the silent men and women behind her. “These are my father’s toys, each chosen for her or his feminine or masculine beauty and trained to pleasure him. Perhaps he will join you to their ranks.” She cocked her head at Laya. “You are beautiful enough, certainly. For now, he wishes you to join our evening bath. No doubt he will be watching us from his casement window.”

Laya glanced up at the single lit window in the high wall and shivered.

Strathgora wore a bracelet around one gloved hand, which tinkled with a dozen tiny silver keys. Using these, she unchained the maids and youths from the line, one at a time. They proceeded into the pavilion and from drawers cleverly concealed in the benches, fetched an assortment of bottles and brushes and jewelry. There, also, they removed their feathered skirts and tails, though not the codpieces from the males nor the little gold and diamond belts from the females.

The girls and boys were of all races. Pale elves, ruddy humans, even a few exotics such as the gilled, blue-haired mermaid—she had legs, though, not a tail—or the soulful-eyed young man with glowing skin who could only have been a fallen seraph. A scar still marked his back where his true wings had been ripped from his flesh, to allow him to be ensorcelled as a flightless pet peacock for Zathstragomal. A few lads and lasses, lovely, as all the rest, possessed a coloring that Laya did not recognize, with jet-black locks and vivid purple or gold eyes.

“They are goblins,” said Strathgora, following Laya’s gaze. “Believe it or not. This is how they appeared when they were brought to my father to be cast into the Deep Fire and given the heads of beasts. Rather than mar their perfection, he brought them here.” With a slightly self-mocking smile, Strathgora gestured to her own deep purple eyes. “I too have goblin blood. My mother was one of Zathstragomal’s first pets.”

How terrible . But Laya kept the thought to herself. She had a feeling that Strathgora would scorn any show of pity.

The youths and maids crowded around Laya and began to tug at her tunic. She tried to shoo them away.

“I say—what do you think you are doing?—let me alone!”

“They will bathe you,” said Strathgora sternly. “You stink of the lower warrens. You cannot appear before my father like that. If you fight, I will have you whipped first, but one way or another, you will be bathed and prepared.”

Laya gave in. The throng led her into the shallow pool beside the pavilion, where the playground had been built. Here the water was about waist deep. The tunic was torn from her. They dunked her under the water, and she came back up sputtering. All in all, they were not harsh, only insistent, treating her as doll incapable of doing anything for herself. Someone behind her rubbed shampoo in her hair, someone else poured a bucket of water over her head to rinse it out.

An army of probing hands roamed over her naked flesh, lathering her breasts and belly and thighs with soap, scrubbing, rubbing, scourging, touching. Impudent fingers parted her sex and explored it. Other hands encircled her breasts or pinched her buttocks. When Laya squirmed in protest and arousal, others simply held her arms and legs apart and allowed new sets of curious hands to stroke her in turn after turn.

Laya saw the flash of a knife. It frightened her and she stiffened, but by now her captors held her immobilized. One of the damsels knelt between Laya’s open legs and worked a lotion into a thick lather over her pussy. She then took the edge of the knife and began to scrape away Laya’s pubic hair. The ginger scraping teased the sensitive flesh around her clit. Laya writhed, embarrassed by her reaction, but helpless to control her excitement.

When finished with the knife, the damsel slapped on some other liquid that caused Laya’s cunt to sting. The maid soothed it instantly with a third lotion, cool and sensuous. She rubbed this in with tantalizing circular motions that spiraled closer and closer to Laya’s clit. At the same time, other hands began to smooth fragrant oils into Laya’s skin. Every part of her felt caressed and massaged and stroked. Her back, her calves, her thighs. Each of her breasts rolled between a pair of different hands, frictioning back and forth as though to start a fire; and she felt as though a fire did start in her hardening nipples. Then swirling fingers finally reached her clit, while other hands slid into her cunt and into her anus. Someone’s mouth lowered onto hers. Two mouths took her nipples and bit lightly. Tongues joined hands tickling all the parts of her body. Laya had no weight. Her head lolled back. They supported her completely. She floated on a sea of hands and sucking mouths and unbearable sensation and her orgasm flooded her in waves.

Laughing, the throng left Laya’s limp body on one of the sculptures in the pool. Strathgora had not entered the water nor removed her clothing. She stood at the balustrade of the pavilion from whence she had watched the proceedings with indifference. Now she issued a series of mysterious commands, a list of names paired with numbers, which caused the maids and youths to approach her one by one. With the silver keys on her bracelet, she unlocked the little belts or codpieces they wore, took the belts and handed them new objects in turn.

Laya sat up on the sculpture. The objects alarmed her. She had seen that the girls and boys wore belts, but these were a peculiar kind of belt, affixed with phalluses of various girths, two for the girls’ belts, one for the boys’. The lads and lasses lay themselves back with legs spread upon the other sculptures, which Laya could now see were designed to cradle adult bodies in just such a variety of positions, and not for children’s play at all. Others then helped the supine ones to insert the phallus into both their openings. Once the belts were refastened, they returned to Strathgora, who locked them into the belts.