Maybe?

With every moment that passed Dawn thought to wrestle from the goblin's grasp and leap from the trok, attempt to run and put as much distance between the two as possible. Her rod was still firmly in her hand, if she could get a good swing she might be able to knock the goblin out; or at least deliver a debilitating blow. But the rational part of her mind knew that was folly. The warrior was behind her, and getting a good swing without being able to turn around was almost impossible. In addition, if she did manage to get away she would then be on foot and the trok was much faster than she. The goblin could simply chase her down and recapture her with ease. Plus if she fought back against him, the goblin would probably become more upset than he already was.

The battle raged in her mind between courage and fear, but eventually fear won out.

There was no saddle, thus staying mounted required a combination of: skill, familiarity, and brute leg strength on the part of the rider; none of which Dawn had. As such she focused on trying to stay upright, squeezing the body of the lizard/bear-like-thing hard between her legs. Meanwhile, resting her rod perilously in her lap, her hands grasped at the few tufts of hair that sprouted from in between the trok's scales. None of her actions however did anything to impede the lustful actions of the goblin warrior behind her; who clearly had a comfort and familiarity with the trok that only came from quite some time together.

Unfortunately for Dawn, this gave his hands unencumbered use of her body.

One hand pulling double duty by holding both the reigns of the trok and the jagged knife, the goblin snaked his other under her brassiere-top to cup her large breast. In response, Dawn pressed her upper arm against her torso to stop the material from falling off completely. The warrior, seeing that Dawn was taking no action to stop him, surprised the young woman by gently massaging and kneading her flesh, eliciting a shameful breath of pleasure from the life mage. A breath that turned into a full moan when he rubbed, then pinched, her sensitive nipples between his fingertips.

Dawn's hands gripped tighter as with every rapid bounce she felt the goblin's member slide between her thighs; his shaft trapped firmly between her and the trok. Then she silently cursed herself as she felt her body betray her and begin responding to the goblin's ministrations. Her skin flushed, and her pussy became moist as the warrior used her for his own satisfaction. Though thankful she couldn't see his face, she could tell he was smiling as he toyed with her mound of tit-flesh. A smile that turned into a self-satisfied chuckle when her flimsy panties became damp.

His hand left her breast then, to rejoin the other on the reigns, and Dawn struggled to readjust her brassiere back into its position. She was unexpectedly aided by the goblin by a gentle tug on the reigns, slowing the trok ever so slightly. Then it was his other, knife holding, hand's turn. With a couple of upward twitches of the warrior's manhood, and a pair of impassioned grunts, Dawn gathered that he wanted her to rise up slightly. To her rage and self-hatred, Dawn found herself complying.

Dawn shifted forward on the trok, lying down on the beasts back and more hugging the lizard/bear-like-thing rather than riding it. She looked back over her shoulder when he flipped her skirt up, and saw the goblin bring the knife towards her nether. For a moment panic ran through her, fear that he was going to mutilate her. But with a deft hand he pressed the sharp blade tip against the soft fabric of her panties and poked just the tiniest hole in the crotch. Then the knife-holding hand was on her shoulder pulling her back into a sitting position.

In a moment she was back up as she was before, riding the trok with the goblin's member rubbing between her legs; his hands exploring her body as he willed. Dawn's attention was split a multitude of ways: staying on the trok, enduring the molestation of the warrior's exploring hands, and the sensations of the goblin's length rubbing against her damply clad pussy mound. She could almost hear the threads snap over the sound of the trok's gallop. With every pounce and bounce, with every shift and slide along the goblin's cock, the damp and now compromised material of her panties strained before some gave way. It was only three or four threads, but with each one she shuddered.

Then Dawn felt an awkward shift in the goblin, his body jerked violently against her back. With a whip, the trok veered and back-peddled; the goblin's arm wrapped around her again before tossing her towards the ground.

Unprepared for the sudden dismounting, Dawn found herself falling towards the earth with her feet over her head. Her bountiful ass impacted the ground first with a dull thud and, legs splayed, Dawn looked up towards her captor to see what would come next.