Vashti Valant - Slave of the Goblin

How wrong she was. The ordeal had only started. Akraz propelled Laya before him as he made his rounds of the crowd. Every petty lord and quisling who had sworn allegiance to Zathstragomal the Malicious wanted to come congratulate the wizard’s Goblin General in person—and ogle his conquered elf slave girl. Many of these lords had lost battles to Akraz the Terrible. Or worse, they had surrendered to his army without any pretence at resistance at all, out of gibbering fear. It made them feel good about their own cravenness to gloat over the elf warrior maiden who had been reduced to sucking the cock of her conqueror.

The hardest for Laya to endure were the encounters with the lords and ladies she knew personally. Here came fat Lord Augutte Umberfall, and his equally vicious wife, Lady Pernicia Umberfall, and their coterie of lesser sycophants. Once, as Nemesis, Laya had ridden three days and nights to warn the lord of Umberfall of an imminent attack by Zathstragomal’s army—under the command of Akraz the Terrible, as she recalled—and instead of heeding her warning the disgusting human man had tried to lure, then force her into his bedroom. When she repulsed him with her bow and arrow, he had her thrown out of his castle. Needless to say, he’d ignored her warning, and mere days later had been groveling at Zathstragomal’s feet for mercy.

“Well, well,” sneered Lord Augutte Umberfall. “The virginal Nemesis proves no better than the harlot I knew her to be all along.”

Laya had wondered why she had been dressed in silken finery, only to have it shredded from her body. Why not just force her to go completely naked, like the slaves serving drinks? She realized now that it had been to make a point. She had once been an equal of these lords and ladies. No longer. Now all her most private parts thrust forth prominently, bare and splattered with cum.

“Make the whore suck my cock, too,” demanded Lord Augutte Umberfall. His red face beaded with lust. “Right here! Right now!”

Laya shrank back toward Akraz. Oh gods of Light! Please, no!

“No,” said Akraz. “She belongs to me. But you may watch as I touch her. Spread your legs, slave!”

Heat burned her face—and her pussy. She spread her legs. Lord Augutte Umberfall licked his lips as he examined her splayed cunt.

The black crop snapped across her labia. Laya mewed in surprise at the bite of the blow. The tip of the rod prodded her outer lips open, followed by another quick switch. She bit down this time to keep herself from emitting any degrading whines. The rod prodded again, deeper into her folds. It stroked the insides of her labia. The path it traced teased close to her clit while avoiding the nub itself. Despite herself, Laya swayed on the balls of her feet, undulating her hips to try to rub her clit against the elusive tip.

Instead, the crop took her by surprise. This time the snap and sting found her nipples in quick succession. She cried out. Before the tingling in her nipples could subside, the crop tapped each one several times in turn, lighter blows that merely kept the sensation of the first vibrating.

Something splashed her stinging breasts. Laya, who had not even been aware of closing her eyes, opened them in surprise. Akraz had taken Lord Augutte Umberfall’s wine from his hand and spilled it over her bosom. Now red droplets of liquid slithered down her heaving breasts. He brought the crop to them again in a rain of light smacks, amplified by her wet flesh.

None of the blows hurt in and of itself, but the succession of them, the uncertainty of whether they would come as hard stings or soft pats, in fast percussion patterns or slow strokes, on the nipple itself or on the underside or top slope of her upthrust globes, this helpless feeling drove her into a frenzy. She thrashed so wildly that Akraz had to tighten her leash to force her to remain under his lashing. She mewled and begged with wordless squeals for relief. Her breasts swelled. The nipples hardened and engorged.

Just when she began to lose track of the individual blows under the avalanche of sensation in her swollen, burning, throbbing breasts, the crop returned again to her cunt. She flowed with arousal already. The smacks the crop made were wet with her own juices. A few stinging blows sensitized her to the teasing prods. Each tiny poke made her jump and thrust forward with her hips.

Dimly, she could still hear the lewd chuckles of the audience avid for the spectacle she provided. Tears of shame streaked her cheeks at the thought of what she must look like to them, but nothing could stop her from yelping in ecstasy when the crop suddenly drove itself deep into her pussy and began to jog up and down with swift friction. The slender pointed stick was not the kind of impalement she had been used to with either the phalluses or Akraz’s own generously sized member, but in its own way it was just as demanding a taskmaster. Akraz sawed it in her cunt very fast, and it was long as well. At times she had to dance on her toes to keep it from lifting her off the ground.

But it could not fill her or relieve her cunt. She hovered on the edge of orgasm without crossing it. Her frustration built into a wail.

“Please! Please, Akraz, please!”

The crop withdrew. Empty, unfulfilled, Laya stumbled after Akraz, who had already bid the lords and ladies his excuses to move on.

Another group of Zathstragomal’s pet lords rushed into the opening. Akraz greeted them and began to play Laya like an instrument for their entertainment all over again. This time he forced her to bend over to let her hair drape on the ground, such that her buttocks lifted before the onlookers. He spanked her soundly with the crop until she wagged her tail lewdly for her laughing audience. Then he shoved the tip of the crop into her anus and rolled it between his hands until the heat from the friction began to burn her into a new flurry of tears and pleas for relief.

Akraz continued to circulate amongst the admiring guests, and he seemed to have new tricks to degrade Laya for every new clique. Later in the evening, he unchained her wrists from her neck, so he could make her crawl before him on all fours. He made her try to hold a wine bottle between her clenched thighs and pour it into a glass for a guest, then spanked her when she spilled—and while he spanked her, she still had to squeeze the bottle. He also forced her to touch herself, caress her reddened breasts and rub her clit, in front of the sniggering lords and ladies.

Over and over, he drove her to the point of climax, then denied it to her in the last possible moment. How he knew her so well that he could tell within seconds when she might go over the edge, she did not go. She hated him for it.

But through it all, he never made her service anyone else, nor did he allow anyone else to touch her.

Akraz knew he was a thrice-damned bastard. A part of him enjoyed displaying his raw sexual power over his beautiful elf slave girl. That dark part of his soul thrilled to the way she panted for him, inspiring envy of his ownership of such a woman in those around him.

And another dark corner in his soul wanted to punish her for expecting no more of him. She had made that perfectly clear in Zathstragomal’s sex dungeon. She had wanted to protect Lathaniel from debasing himself by raping her. Don’t let him do something he can never repent . Lathaniel had a soul worth protecting, even from himself.

And Akraz?

Take me yourself . Akraz had nowhere to fall. He was already as low as a rutting beast. So she might as well let him take her, if she must be taken.

Very well then, tonight he had shown her just how low he could go. He had debased her in every way he knew; and in so doing, debased himself as well. And, worst of all, he’d enjoyed it as much as she had.