by Rowan Bree
The man disperses the crowd and smiles down at you. It’s the first smile you have seen from him all night.
“I think I’ll keep you for myself,” he says. He snaps his fingers and the lizard appears with a ring of keys. The lizard unlocks the cage door.
“Lucky bitch,” the lizard hisses as you follow the man away from the cage, too disoriented and nervous to protest.
Behind the big tent filled with cages is a much smaller tent of deep red, done up on the inside like the bedchambers of a wealthy noble. Beside it is a covered wagon with bars over the windows.
“You stay out here,” the man says, entering the tent.
He comes back a moment later carrying a leather collar attached to a heavy chain. Fresh fear grips you.
“You thought I was joking?”
He puts the collar around your neck and padlocks the chain around one of the wagon wheels.
You fumble with the collar but can’t find how it’s fastened.
The man watches you. “Pets sleep outside until I’m confident they are house-trained.”
He goes into the tent and you curl up next to the wagon wheel. Your head aches and your dress is soiled and torn beyond repair. Even if you could escape now there is no way you can go to the feast in your state. All you can do is bide your time and wait for an opportunity to escape.
You aren’t aware of having drifted off until you are woken by a callused hand on your cheek. The hand pries your jaw open and stuffs a rag in before you can scream for help. A sack goes over your head. There is a clink of metal snapping. Arms lift you off the ground and carry you away.
The castle.
You don’t dare go any further, not in front of others. It is over in a moment and you cry out as the werewolf cums. You watch as the ground in front of you is splattered with thick ropes of the beast’s seed. More of it drips down your legs and soaks into your ruined dress.
You fall forward onto your hands and knees, shaking. Dirt sticks to the insides of your legs as you try to untangle your panties and pull them back up.
The man disperses the crowd and smiles down at you. It’s the first smile you have seen from him all night.
“I think I’ll keep you for myself,” he says. He snaps his fingers and the lizard appears with a ring of keys. The lizard unlocks the cage door.
“Lucky bitch,” the lizard hisses as you follow the man away from the cage, too disoriented and nervous to protest.
Behind the big tent filled with cages is a much smaller tent of deep red, done up on the inside like the bedchambers of a wealthy noble. Beside it is a covered wagon with bars over the windows.
“You stay out here,” the man says, entering the tent.
He comes back a moment later carrying a leather collar attached to a heavy chain. Fresh fear grips you.
“You thought I was joking?”
He puts the collar around your neck and padlocks the chain around one of the wagon wheels.
You fumble with the collar but can’t find how it’s fastened.
The man watches you. “Pets sleep outside until I’m confident they are house-trained.”
He goes into the tent and you curl up next to the wagon wheel. Your head aches and your dress is soiled and torn beyond repair. Even if you could escape now there is no way you can go to the feast in your state. All you can do is bide your time and wait for an opportunity to escape.
You aren’t aware of having drifted off until you are woken by a callused hand on your cheek. The hand pries your jaw open and stuffs a rag in before you can scream for help. A sack goes over your head. There is a clink of metal snapping. Arms lift you off the ground and carry you away.
The castle.
You eye up the werewolf. It is awake, or perhaps it has been awake this whole time. There is an unmistakable human glint in its eye as you go towards it.
A thrill goes up your spine. The werewolf raises itself to standing, its gaze never breaking from yours. Even on all fours it is as tall as you. You watch with a mix of fear and hidden excitement as its pink cock drops from its sheath.
Some of the goblin’s crowd start to look your way. You ignore them, afraid that seeing your new audience will make you lose your nerve. The wolf presses its muzzle against the bars. It sniffs your scent. You reach out a shaking hand and press it into the dark fur. Touching the creature makes you weak in the knees. You turn around and present your backside to it, hoping the crowd will be satisfied to watch it hump at you, and hoping that you too won’t be tempted to go further.
The cage rattles as the werewolf bears the weight of its forepaws on the bars between you. Its cock is surprisingly heavy as it prods insistently against your backside. Over the sound of its panting you can hear the heckling and cries of disgust by the crowd. Every time the wolf thrusts at you, you are hit by a fresh jolt of arousal.
The werewolf’s pants turn to whines as it continues frustratedly to get off from what little you’re giving it. You too feel a stirring inside of you. You reach behind yourself and try to grasp the beast’s cock, but it’s wet and keeps slipping through your fingers. All the while the crowd is getting rowdier. Finally you manage to reposition the wolf’s cock between your legs.
The first thrust against your pussy makes you feel hot and cold all at once. It doesn’t take long before your legs are soaked from your own juices as much as the beast’s. The tantalizing thought comes to you that if you just position yourself a little differently there would be nothing stopping the werewolf from taking you fully.
Change your position.
Stay where you are.
You move a little to where the beast’s cock keeps thrusting. You must be crazy, you think to yourself, just before the beast plunges into you, its oversized cock stretching you more than you thought possible. Your thighs shake uncontrollably and you struggle to stay upright, the idea of being bred by the creature filling your body with unbridled lust.
It is over in a moment and you cry out as the werewolf cums. It pulls out and you can feel its seed going all over you as it keeps humping at the bars. The crowd is going wild at the sight of your debasement. If only they knew how much you really enjoyed it.
You fall forward onto your hands and knees, shaking and with tears in your eyes from the intensity of the encounter. Dirt sticks to the insides of your legs as you try to get to your feet.
The man with the cane comes to disperse the crowd. He smiles down at you. It’s the first smile you have seen from him all night.
“I think I’ll keep you for myself,” he says. He snaps his fingers and the lizard appears with a ring of keys. The lizard unlocks the cage door.
“Lucky bitch,” the lizard hisses as you follow the man away from the cage, too disoriented and nervous to protest.
Behind the big tent filled with cages is a much smaller tent of deep red, done up on the inside like the bedchambers of a wealthy noble. Beside it is a covered wagon with bars over the windows.
“You stay out here,” the man says, entering the tent.
He comes back a moment later carrying a leather collar attached to a heavy chain. Fresh fear grips you.
“You thought I was joking?”
He puts the collar around your neck and padlocks the chain around one of the wagon wheels.
You fumble with the collar but can’t find how it’s fastened.
The man watches you. “Pets sleep outside until I’m confident they are house-trained.”
He goes into the tent and you curl up next to the wagon wheel. Your head aches and your body feels broken. Even if you could escape now there is no way you can go to the feast in your state. All you can do is bide your time and wait for an opportunity to escape.
You aren’t aware of having drifted off until you are woken by a callused hand on your cheek. The hand pries your jaw open and stuffs a rag in before you can scream for help. A sack goes over your head. There is a clink of metal snapping. Arms lift you off the ground and ca
rry you away.
The castle.
You don’t dare go any further, not in front of others. It is over in a moment and you cry out as the werewolf cums. You watch as the ground in front of you is splattered with thick ropes of the beast’s seed. More of it drips down your legs.
You fall forward onto your hands and knees, shaking. Dirt sticks to the insides of your legs as you try to stand back up.
The man with the cane comes to disperse the crowd. He smiles down at you. It’s the first smile you have seen from him all night.
“I think I’ll keep you for myself,” he says. He snaps his fingers and the lizard appears with a ring of keys. The lizard unlocks the cage door.
“Lucky bitch,” the lizard hisses as you follow the man away from the cage, too disoriented and nervous to protest.
Behind the big tent filled with cages is a much smaller tent of deep red, done up on the inside like the bedchambers of a wealthy noble. Beside it is a covered wagon with bars over the windows.
“You stay out here,” the man says, entering the tent.
He comes back a moment later carrying a leather collar attached to a heavy chain. Fresh fear grips you.
“You thought I was joking?”
He puts the collar around your neck and padlocks the chain around one of the wagon wheels.
You fumble with the collar but can’t find how it’s fastened.
The man watches you. “Pets sleep outside until I’m confident they are house-trained.”
He goes into the tent and you curl up next to the wagon wheel. Your head aches and your body feels broken. Even if you could escape now there is no way you can go to the feast in your state. All you can do is bide your time and wait for an opportunity to escape.
You aren’t aware of having drifted off until you are woken by a callused hand on your cheek. The hand pries your jaw open and stuffs a rag in before you can scream for help. A sack goes over your head. There is a clink of metal snapping. Arms lift you off the ground and carry you away.
The castle.
You look towards the cervitaur, who nervously glances away. You go to him anyway.
He bows his head. “I’m honored,” he says quietly.
Still, he looks reluctant. Maybe you should have picked one of the others.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I want to help you. But I don’t think with my anatomy and these bars in the way we’ll be able to do much.”
You see that he’s right. “What can we do?” you ask.
“We can kiss,” he says, reaching through the bars and pulling you close.
His lips are soft and he smells of green moss and forest flowers.
You don’t even know if anyone’s watching you. But you don’t care.
“I’m Arcas,” he says looking deeply into your eyes. “And I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t know how long the crowd’s going to stay satisfied watching us kiss.”
You look over your shoulder to see that some of the goblin’s crowd has moved your way. A bashful pink brightens Arcas’s freckled cheeks and you feel your heart melting.
“What should we do?” you ask.
“Well I don’t want to boast but I’m rather, uh, popular with the regulars. They often ask me to pleasure myself but because of anatomy it’s a bit difficult. If you could help I’m sure they’d be more than delighted.” He blushes deeper. “That is, if you’re okay with it.”
You tease him, reminding him that you’re the one who approached him.
He kisses you again before you move to the ground. You reach through the bars of his cage and stroke his flank.
“What should I do?” you ask.
“You’re doing fine,” Arcas says. “Maybe, um, touch my sheath a little bit?”
You can see a crowd start to form around his cage. Some of the women offer lewd suggestions while others call you names, no doubt out of jealousy.
You slide your hand around his flank to find the furry sheath hiding his penis. His cute balls are there too. You stroke them both.
Arcas moans.
“Is this okay?” you ask.
“Y—yeah,” he stutters.
You can see the tip of his cock peek out from the sheath. You keep rubbing as it extends far enough for you to take it in your hand.
Arcas yelps.
“Are you okay?” you ask.
Arcas is too busy moaning to reply, but by the looks of it he’s feeling just fine. The crowd jostles to get a better look as they fantasize aloud about what they would do to the poor cervitaur given the chance.
Arcas’s eyes are squeezed shut. He bites his hand to keep himself from moaning too loud. The sight of him makes you want him just as bad as the crowd. If only there weren’t these bars in the way.
“I’m going to cum,” Arcas mutters.
You stroke him faster, watching his twitching flank and imagining yourself underneath him in some secluded forest glade. Maybe if you get out of here you can rescue him and spend the rest of your days as his forest nymph.
Arcas cries out, thrusting hard into your hand. His cum splatters the dirt amidst wolf-whistles and jeers. You let go of him and his knees buckle. You lean up to kiss him. You can feel his body shaking.
“Think we did okay?” he asks.
You don’t get a chance to reply as you are dragged backwards out of your cage. You catch a glimpse of the man with the cane before someone yanks a sack over your head.
“I did what you asked,” you plead.
“We’ve had some threats,” the man replies. “It appears a few of our female visitors are quite attached to the antlered freak and didn’t take kindly to watching you molest him. Their words, not mine.
“But don’t worry. These kind men have agreed to take you off my hands. No experiments for you.”
The grip on you tightens and you feel yourself being dragged backwards, away from the man and your cage. It looks like you won’t be making it to the feast after all.
The castle.
The goblin already has a crowd. Maybe if you choose him things will be over quicker.
“Hey you,” you shout through the bars.
The goblin looks up.
“Come here,” you tell him.
He ignores you and goes back to taunting the crowd.
You don’t give up. “Come on, I can do better than that.” You lower the bust of your dress to tease him.
The goblin gets up with alarming speed and rushes at you. He climbs the bars of the cage until he is at your breasts and yanks down your dress, tearing the fabric and exposing your breasts to the crowd.
You protest his roughness as he smashes your breasts together and thrusts his cock between them. He cackles at you and sticks his long, thick tongue in your mouth to shut you up. You choke and sputter as he tongue-fucks you. The crowd is going wild.
You finally manage to break away, your lips wet with saliva and breasts slimy with precum. But the goblin already has you by the hair and is trying to shove his cock into your mouth. You fight for air but he pinches you until you open your mouth enough to let him in. His cock is disproportionately large for his size and it threatens to choke you. All you can do is cling tightly to the bars as you bear the onslaught.
You nearly cry from joy when you feel the goblin’s seed hit the back of your throat. You think it’s all over, but it just keeps coming and coming, filling your mouth with slime and making you feel like you’re drowning. When the goblin finally pulls out you are a wreck. Cum dribbles from your open mouth onto your breasts.
“Your turn,” the goblin cackles. You grab desperately onto the bars to stay upright as your vision swims. You feel like you’ve been drugged. Your mind is hazy. You feel a tugging at your dress and then a warm tongue against your slit. The goblin laps at your pussy until your legs open enough for him to violate you further. You let out a shameful moan as his tongue probes deep.
You don’t know what’s worse, the way your body is resp
onding or the crowd’s comments. You can feel yourself coming, your insides clenching against that vile tongue inside you as the men and women watching you do their best to make you feel like a deviant freak. It’s all too much and you cover the goblin’s eager tongue with your juices until a large puddle forms underneath you. Satisfied, the goblin crawls away and goes to lie down in the corner of his cage.
You hear slow clapping and turn to see the man with the cane. You struggle to pull your dress back up to cover your breasts.
“Well done,” he says. He snaps his fingers and the lizard appears with a ring of keys. The lizard unlocks the cage door.
“Lucky bitch,” the lizard hisses as you follow the man away from the cage, too disoriented and nervous to protest.
Behind the big tent filled with cages is a much smaller tent of deep red, done up on the inside like the bedchambers of a wealthy noble. Beside it is a covered wagon with bars over the windows.
“You stay out here,” the man says, entering the tent.
He comes back a moment later carrying a leather collar attached to a heavy chain. Fresh fear grips you.
“I think you’ve deserved a spot as my special pet.”
He puts the collar around your neck and padlocks the chain around one of the wagon wheels.
You fumble with the collar but can’t find how it’s fastened.
The man watches you. “Pets sleep outside until they are fully trained.”
He goes into the tent and you curl up next to the wagon wheel. Your head aches and your dress is soiled and torn beyond repair. Even if you could escape now there is no way you can go to the feast in your state. All you can do is bide your time and wait for an opportunity to escape.