Hell no!

“Fuck that!”

The goblin jumps back as you rip your head up, defiance burning in your eyes. Who cares if you’re alone out here? You are Winnifred Van God damned Helsing! The monster dominator! And no overweight bitch that spends her life wrist deep in dirty dishes is going to change that! So what if you’re unarmed, you’re hardly helpless. You still have your body, your skills, and – you think looking to the wary goblin eying you with caution mingled with lust – your special ability. In fact, you remind yourself with a thoughtful smile, this is quite possibly the worst thing Helga could have done.

“Hey, goblin,” you call out to the tiny creature. The goblin jumps a little again, but you ignore it. You stretch at your bindings, throwing your head back and pushing your chest out, nipples hard and staring from the chill air. You make it look like you’re struggling, while at the same time enticing it with your flush body. Goblins are cowardly, craven creatures you well know. The only way they’ll take a risk is if they know it isn’t really one. Therefore, seducing an example of its race like this it isn’t so much making you look sexy. Its making you look ****.

You whimper and struggle. “Please no!” you cry at the randy yet confused little goblin. “Please don’t hurt me! I…I don’t want to lose my virginity! Not like this!”

The goblin looks at you curiously, but the stakes have been raised astronomically. Your purity is on the line, so it believes. It pads forward several step.

You cry and try to retreat against the tree. “No! D-don’t come any closer! I don’t want to! Leave me alone!” You rub your legs together, a slight trickle of fresh arousal oozing enticingly from your pussy. Playing the victim now and then can be rather hot, you must admit.

The show doesn’t fail to draw the goblin’s notice. It grins and wanders forward. “Pretty lady seems to like idea,” the goblin challenges.

As he draws closer, his pungent odour reaches your nose causing it to wrinkle in disgusts. The stench of rot, sour tang of old sweat, and general filth hangs about him in a thick perfume. You shudder. “N-no!”

“Yes.” The goblin inhales your scent deeply. “Pretty lady wet. Pretty lady making self ready for me.” The goblin flips his loincloth away, revealing in the silver light of the moon a thick warty green cock. “Pretty lady wants my seed. Pretty lady wants be bred.” His dirty, crooked green fingers push themselves against you muff, causing you to gasp. The goblin slowly strokes you, gathering some of your sticky arousal on his fingertips. He brings them to his nose and breathes deeply, basking in your scent. He opens his eyes to you once more and grins. “Pretty lady mine.”

You shudder, not all of it feigned. “N-no! D-don’t touch me! Don’t cut the rope! I don’t want to!” you cry. The goblin pauses, his eyes flicking to the ropes that keep you bound. Through the haze of his lust, you can see his dim spark of intellect considering what else he can do if he unties you. This thought wars against his innate cowardice, and you hold your breath for his decision