The Goblin Chieftain

Your captors roughly pull you into a large antechamber of the cave, and a thick musky smell hits you. They drag you before a throne of scrap metal and assorted debris, upon which sits their leader.

The goblin chief stands a head taller than the rest, with muscular bronze skin, and is clad only in a loincloth that barely covers his unmentionables. He flashes you a devilish grin from his seat, clearly enjoying the sight of your body bound before him. You even notice his goblinoid cock slowly growing harder and whimper as the goblins holding you start getting a bit more handsy.

You struggle and lash out at the goblins fondling your body and are shocked when you hear the chieftain speak to you in Common.

"Ohh you poor boy." He utters in a low, guttural voice. "It never gets old when fresh meat wanders in so willingly. This sorry lot is usually never so good with intruders. The lack of a piece of new piece of fuck flesh around here must really have them going."

He barks an order to the rest of the goblins and they ease their **** on you. He walks up to you and holds your face in his hand, raking his black claws down your cheek. "They'll be using you tonight. If you just manage to survive you have me to look foward to."

He strides out of the room and the last thing you hear before you feel dozens of rough hands groping you is his sharp whistle echoing through the cave.