Goblin panty harvest

The leader of the goblin raiding party gives you a ragged salute.

"Here you are, sir," he says, dumping another barrel of women's panties at your feet. Red satin thongs, white frilly bloomers, pink lacy knickers, tight black boyshorts. You return the salute, and toss the goblin a biscuit to show your respect for his hard work. Grinning happily, he shoved it all in his mouth at once and scampers away to eat it.

Daisy is eyeing up the girls. They stand in the castle courtyard, all chained together in a **** coffle, wrists chained to their collars to prevent them from covering their bodies and deprive them of even the slightest shred of dignity. Milkmaids, farmgirls, buxom peasant wenches and a captured noblewoman or two, all of them fresh in from the Svetlanian borderlands. They look nervous.

Daisy points at them, and laughs. "Ha ha! You're all NAKED!"

It's true. The girls are all naked. They squeal and wiggle fetchingly, half-crouching and tugging at their chains, utterly failing to hide their charms. Full breasts bounce, plump bottoms jiggle. The goblins are in hysterics. You specifically told them to take the long, scenic route back to the castle, marching the captured girls along busy trade roads and through crowded market towns.

You inspect the panties, finally selecting a gossamer-soft pair of delicate crimson silk. You scan the captured girls until your eyes land on a tall, dark-haired, soft-skinned woman, doing her best to hold herself aloof from the rest of the peasants. "These yours?" you ask her.

"None of your business."

"That's one of them fancy kind of ladies, sir," a goblin says. "We caught her in one of them magic wooden boxes that move around all on their own."

"Those are called carriages, Skrump. But you did a good job. What might your name be, milady?"

"How dare you address me in such a familiar manner? Swine! Release me at once!"

"Interesting. Goblins, spank her."

The goblins obligingly smack the furious aristocrat's pert, pale backside with long wooden paddles, while she yelps and does an awkward little dance to try to wriggle out of the way. She's beautiful, of course, with anger gleaming in her dark eyes, high cheekbones and an elegantly well-rounded hourglass figure like a classical statue. You smile at her and wait.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Okay, stop, stop! Please! My name is... Lady Myrella! That's my name!"

"That's all you had to say," you say, holding up a hand. Instantly the goblins quit spanking her. "Now, Lady Myrella, I believe you wanted to be released?"

Myrella scowls at you. She clearly wants to rub her sore red backside, but the chains won't let her lower her arms enough.

"If you would be most kind," she practically spits. You can tell she wants to give you a piece of her mind, but the fear of more goblin spanking is an excellent reminder to be polite. "I am a duchess, after all."

"Are you really? I didn't realise."

"I happen to be a very important duchess," Myrella sniffs, doing her best to convey some sense of her authority. Right now, of course, she's a chained naked ****, so it doesn't come easy. Part of the magic of the collar prevents the girls from crouching down without permission, so there's no way at all for them to hide their bodies. They have to stand upright, baring it all for anyone who cares to look. "Send me home right now, and we'll say no more about it."

"Send you home. An interesting idea."