by Wes Havoc
She was mid-groan when something exploded to her right.
Shooting her head up and to that direction, she had to force her eyes shut to the sudden orange clarity. Something was on fire not too far from there.
The werewolf slipped out of her. She cried out, feeling empty as if its cock had always been there, filling her, stretching her, pleasuring her. But the beast was too weary to care, watching the explosion and stepping back inside the forest.
Cleo lifted herself up on her elbows, seeing the beast for the first time. She had been right - it was a large werewolf, its dark fur sticking up between its shoulder blades. Long, heavy arms came down from large shoulders, a heavy bulk. Hanging from between its legs, that enormous, meaty cock. Her mouth watered from the sight.
She was desperate to have it inside of her again, but the beast turned to her a confused, very human glance and left, running to the deeper parts of the forest.
Sighing, Cleo sat up. Her cunt ached somewhat and her inner thighs were wet with her own juices. She blinked so her eyes could adjust as she stared at the explosion.
It was the village. She could see the skeleton of a house on fire amid the trees. It had indeed been so very close!
She jumped up, fetching her sword and cloak. Her legs wobbled as her body still lingered in the immense pleasure she felt. Sighing, she knew she had more important things to do now. But, fastening her cloak around her neck, she knew. She knew if the werewolf decided to ignore the explosion and fuck her senseless, she wouldn’t have minded.
3
The slickness between her thighs wasn’t as much a bother as the one between her pussy lips. As she ran, the friction, the exquisite friction, along with the wetness… It just wouldn’t let her focus on the job at hand. Her clit, instead of relaxing and letting her think about what was happening, kept being massaged, her own labia rubbing against it with every step she took.
Cleo mentally took note of buying either a pair of pants or longer skirts so she could use undergarments. This skirt was too short for them. She was probably walking like a duck just to avoid the friction.
Slowly stepping around a set of trees, she squinted, trying to understand what made the house explode in flames. Though her first thought was about an accident, the surprise orgasm given by a changeling kept her on her toes. She was not experienced and things were definitely coming out different than she expected them.
As she approached, she could hear the yells. The cries. Desperate calls of a place forgotten by justice, by other adventurers. And laughter. Crackling laughter.
Frowning in confusion, Cleo neared the place on the tips of her toes. Not willing to catch anyone’s attention before she knew what she was up against, she walked closer to one of the houses close to the one on fire. As silent as she could, a hand holding tight to her sword, she peered around the wall.
She didn’t know what she expected to find. But it certainly wasn’t that.
Goblins were small creatures, alright. From what she could see, the head of the tallest could reach her hips. They could wreak havoc based in numbers. Thing is: they loved to fight too much to actually live in large groups. They didn’t mind killing one of their own.
To Cleo’s surprise, they seemed to have gotten more organized with the passing years.
At least a dozen of them waited by the end of the street, in what looked like a square. Jumping in glee, squealing and laughing, another dozen walked down the street that way, pulling with them a woman.
A girl, not older than Cleo herself. She must’ve just crossed her eighteenth year. Huge eyes shot between the other citizens, pleading, begging for help. The girl was blond as Cleo, but her body was thinner, her breasts smaller. She had a pretty face, big green eyes reflecting the flames.
The goblins pulled her by her wrists. Some pulled on the tips of her long hair - the highest they could reach. She wore a simple, dark blue dress, something Cleo would never have worn when she was in the palace. Her sleeves were torn and the skirt ripped. A white, creamy thigh showed with every stumble of her step. Another couple of greenish hands clung to her legs.
The goblins walking behind had to jump slightly to reach her ass. With every slap on her bottom, the girl squealed, and another villager looked away.
Cleo couldn’t understand. Though the house was on fire, no one was doing anything. Other villagers watched from their doorsteps or windows, gloomy faces and downcast eyes, but no one did a thing. No one moved a muscle to save the girl.
Were these goblins this much stronger than she expected? Was the quest abandoned because they were actually too much for the adventurers? These villagers surely seemed used to that!
Her mind racing, she tried to develop a plan. She was only one, but maybe if she tried to defend the girl, if she jumped in, risking her life… Maybe that would rally the other villagers. Maybe they’d join and help. Maybe she’d start a revolution, maybe they’d all, together, bring these goblins down!
But as she watched the villagers, they turned to enter their homes and continue with their lives. She knew she wasn’t getting any help from them.
She also knew she couldn’t do that by herself. Though goblins were small and not all that strong, they were in dozens. How was she, a complete beginner, supposed to beat dozens of goblins with a single sword?
The notice said they were only eating the pets!
The slickness between her thighs dripped slowly down to her inner knee. She pressed her legs together, trying to stop it, but it didn’t help much. In fact, it sent a jolt up her aching clit. She clutched her jaw, breathing out slowly as she cursed the timing. She could even smell her own arousal.
One of the last goblins halted and turned. Cleo squinted at him from the shadows. The other villagers shut their doors and windows quickly as the goblin turned around.
His nose moved as if sniffing.
Cleo gulped. He couldn’t smell her, surely… Could he?
She took a step back, immersing herself in the shadows. Another goblin, one far ahead for the distance in the voice, called. The one who stood behind answered something in a high-pitched, unintelligible tongue. She watched the group leave the village, pulling the girl along. The last goblin stood behind.
They were not pretty creatures. Goblins were on the edge of grotesque. Though they had humanoid figures, their greenish skin made her think of spoiled bread. Long ears slashed from old fights, their skinny chests were exposed, dotted with scars. Simple loincloths or pants covered their lower parts and they walked bare-footed.
Cleo watched the goblin sniffing around himself. The two of them were the only ones out in that moment. Apart from the distant voices of the other goblins, all she could hear was the crackling of the fire some houses up the street.
Though her heart pumped, she knew she didn’t have to be afraid. The only weapon he had was a short, rusted blade in a hand. Even if he could smell her arousal, she was in the dark and expecting him. She had the advantage. She could slay this one down.
So she waited, bated breath, clutching the hilt of her sword. She slid the blade out of its sheath slowly, not allowing a single sound to be made.
She watched the goblin walking in her direction, its nose still moving, searching, seeking for whatever smell he had found interesting. The blade hanging from his hand as his beady eyes looked for the origin of the smell… He licked his lips, stretching a pointed-teeth smile as his gaze focused on the place Cleo was hiding.
Sinking against the wall, she pulled back and waited. The goblin certainly could smell her. Either her arousal or the fact she was a stranger in that village… She breathed in, waiting.
Soon enough, the soft steps approached. Cleo drew all her courage and lifted her blade.
The green goblin jumped toward her, laughing loudly. Surely glad to have found a prey.
Unfortunately for him, she was no one’s prey.
Cleo brought the blade down with all her strength. The sharp edge caught
the goblin on the top of his bald head. It slid down seamlessly between the eyes and down the chest, where the blade stopped after striking the ribcage.
The goblin’s smile did not falter as he dropped back, dead on the spot. Blood gushed out from the wound, bathing its ugly face and pooling under its small body. The blood was of a red so dark it was almost black.
Black stained Cleo’s blade as she brought it up to her face. Her first blood. She grinned at her easy victory.
No sound arose from the village. The fire still crackled behind her as Cleo knelt to clean her blade on the grass. Lifting her eyes to the dead goblin, she caught something she had missed. The dirty, ragged loincloth tied around his hips was lifted in a small tent. Bit by bit, pulse by pulse, the tent was lowering. Cocking her head, Cleo frowned to it.
She was still clothed in darkness. Looking over her shoulder and to the street, she took notice no one was watching her. Curiosity filling her, she stretched a hand to the goblin. Her fingers closed around an erection, a small dick now softening after its owner’s death.
Pulling her hand back with a jolt, Cleo felt her cheeks warming up. Such a lack of sense. She chided herself, cleaning her hand on the back of her skirt.
But that told her what she needed to know - this goblin came after the smell of her arousal. Perhaps… Perhaps she could use this to her advantage.
For she still wanted to hunt those goblins down. She was still saving that girl.
Noticing a piece of dark blue cloth in the middle of the street, Cleo rose to her feet and sheathed her sword back. The village was drowned in silence. She approached the cloth - what she expected was a piece of the girl’s dress - and took it between her long fingers. It would be useful to clean the slickness between her thighs. If the goblins could smell her, she couldn’t approach the entire group smelling like that. She’d have to develop a plan. Take on smaller numbers.
She also had to figure out how these many goblins got together. What they were doing to this village… But first, she had to find where they were hiding. Where they were taking that girl.
Confidence shooting through her veins, Cleo didn’t care to hide her smile as she strode down the street to follow the group of green monsters.
4
After cleaning herself and tying the cloth under her skirt to keep the smell at bay, following the goblins up-close was not that hard of a task. The group was so noisy she didn’t need to walk too closely, neither too silently to know where they were heading to. They still pulled the girl along, though her face went from pleading to sorrowful acceptance. She seemed sure of her fate now. Sure she couldn’t run. Sure she wouldn’t get help. She had stopped crying out every time one of them slapped her ass.
Cleo walked embraced in the shadows of the trees, hiding her presence. She had to watch her step, being careful as to not stumble on anything and reveal her position. As she followed, she kept an eye on where they were going.
They had walked for some thirty minutes inside the forest, following a beaten trail, where the trees gave way to a large clearing. The goblins seemed to have put up a camp there. Cleo could descry, from where she stopped in the darkness, a couple of tents, a fire pit, logs for sitting. There were other goblins in the clearing, now squealing and hopping in celebration or greeting.
Cleo approached from amid the trees, taking each step as slow as she could so she wouldn’t reveal her position. Her boots made soft sounds only she could hear. The goblins, too excited to care about anything else, didn’t stop to check if they had been followed. The group had probably done this a number of times before and, apparently, the villagers never tried to take revenge or anything. It was a comfortable situation because of the lack of help from the kingdom.
Her stomach churned. What a damned situation these people were in. But closing her hands in fists, she nodded to herself, focusing on solving it all.
She was close enough to the camp she could see it clearly now. She counted the goblins - they were thirty, between the ones that came from the village and the ones that stayed behind, waiting. The floor was littered with bones, long femurs and curved ribs from different sizes but none of them big enough for Cleo to believe they were human. After eating every pet in the village, they probably started hunting in the forest.
To a side, a small pole stuck out of the earth. A common wooden pole. The goblins dragged the villager to it, forcing her to sit with her back to it. She didn’t fight, whimpering as they lifted her arms and bound her wrists above her head with a rope. The girl closed her eyes, pressing her lips together to keep herself from crying.
The position made the side of her ripped skirt drop to the floor, revealing the long, smooth whiteness of her thigh up to her hip. One of the goblins who tied her up stretched a hand to her skin, a hungry smile on his face. His hand was batted away by another goblin, who complained something in that squawky voice. The other seemed to disagree and the two entered an argument, their hands shooting around as they motioned between the girl, the goblin group, and one of the tents.
Cleo used that moment to walk around the edge of the clearing, nearing the place the girl sat. She still didn’t have a plan and still knew she wasn’t able to take on that many goblins. But this way, if she had a chance, she might have been able to make a dash for the girl, cut her ropes, and run to the forest.
The argument seemed to cease as a group of the goblins sat down. Some ten of them still stood and Cleo watched as one of the goblins who argued rolled his eyes and turned, walking to the larger of the two tents and entering it.
The goblin that seemed to have won the argument laughed lowly and turned back to the villager. He stretched a hand to her flaxen hair, capturing a strand between long, clawed fingers. The girl pressed her eyes shut, whimpering further as she waited for her doom.
The green hand slid down her hair, letting it drop over her chest. He then closed his fingers around the small breast. He laughed as he kneaded, bringing his other hand up to massage the other. He brought the two mounds together, circling his thumbs around stiffening nipples. Cleo could see the two dots forcing against the simple dress.
Poor girl, Cleo thought. She must be cold, that’s why her nipples are stiffening.
The goblin cackled, bringing his forefingers and thumbs together to pinch the nipples. The villager cried out, still keeping her eyes closed. Cleo looked around the others, and every goblin seemed fixated on the scene.
The villager pressed her face against an arm, trying to hide the blush crawling up her cheeks. The goblin extended his hands to grasp on the cleavage of the dress and, with a swift move, ripped it open. The sound reached Cleo’s ears, so she snapped her head in that direction. The small tits bounced a little as they were freed, two rosy nipples standing at attention. The goblin laughed again, bringing his fingers up to pinch at them.
Cleo curled her fingers around the tree bark she hid behind, rage pooling in her stomach. She frowned, remembering the guy back in the Tavern and how bad he deserved the punch she gave him. She could now see other goblins smiling and nodding in approval. She couldn’t wait to kill all of these bastards.
Bringing the tits together, the goblin brought his ugly face down toward the villager’s chest. She cried faintly against her arm. He took a long breath in, then stuck his tongue out and licked her nipples. Smooth, short strokes around one, then the other. His hand kneaded the boob he wasn’t licking, his thumb circling around and flickering the pink knot. After a long moment, neither Cleo nor the other goblins could peel their eyes away. The one over the villager girl closed his lips around her nipple in a seal and sucked on that.
Her whimpers, Cleo noticed, muted. She was making no sound now. Probably given up even that, thought the princess. But the rage in her belly was slowly wearing away.
The goblin let the nipple go with a pop that made the tit bounce. Taking a step back, he grabbed the measly dress once more where it had been ripped and, to Cleo’s surprise, tore it open even further
. The villager cried once more, snapping her eyes open to see her flat belly, her bare mound, and her long legs completely exposed. The dress now lay ruined, hanging from the sleeves.
As the green hands reached for her again, the girl closed her eyes, forcing her face against her arm again. With one of his hands laying on a breast, pinching the nipple, the goblin touched the smooth abdomen and down, pressing against the small waist, the swell of the hip and the soft thighs. The villager pressed her legs together, but the goblin merely put his hands on her knees and parted them, stepping between her thighs to keep her from closing them again.
Long, green fingers ran up the inside of her thigh, finding her womanhood. The villager did not cry out this time. She just clutched her jaw as she waited for those fingers to invade her. But they didn’t. They merely brushed against her, parting her lower lips as the goblin muttered in approval. His other hand never left her breast, kneading, massaging in a way she never felt before. The fingers against her cunt ran slowly up her knot of nerves and down until they prodded very softly against her entrance.
This went on for a long moment, and against her own will, she relaxed. The massage against her lower parts awoke something in her she had no idea she possessed. A fire grew in her lower gut. A warmth spread in her veins.
As one finger pressed against her entrance, she heard the goblin laugh but she didn’t dare to open her eyes. When his fingers came up to her bundle of nerves again, they were wet and slid flawlessly, electricity igniting in her veins.
Cleo watched as the rubs against the poor girl’s clit grew swifter. The girl’s thighs, apparently from exhaustion, dropped lower and wider. The goblin grinned, his fingers running over the girl’s cunt. Cleo unglued her eyes from the goblin’s hand, gulping as she searched for the girl’s face. But the frown was gone and her jaw had unclenched. Her lips were, truly, half-opened, and her brows relaxed.