times, choices.

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When Mark arrived in the courtyard he found a pair of cultists kneeling before the projection of Aesmaram. As Mark approached, the mistform of the demon dispersed and rushed back into Mark making him take a deep breath as the power of the demon suffused him, returning in full.

The cultists rose. “Lord, I present Matron Bagra Cinn. Chief and head of the Cinn goblin clan. The Matron arrived with four spearmen and a handmaiden as an entourage. They were all between three and four feet tall, emaciated and looking deeply malnourished. Bagra her self seemed in better health. She stood a little over three foot tall, her jet black hair tied in a messy bun with a few loose curls framing garnet eyes. She was healthy in shape, modest perky breasts sat revealed beneath a tight tunic that lead to full hips and lovely thighs. The demon’s thoughts invaded Mark’s mind giving glimpses and ideas of the things he could do to the Matron to break her and **** her to submit to his whims.

Before he could restrain himself the demon had their body approaching the Matron. The other goblins and his own cultists backed away cowed, but she stood her ground as he approached, letting all of the lustful, domineering, aura of his true nature flow unrestrained. The blush rising across her face belied the rush of arousal and desire the aura brought, but she merely raised her eyes to keep contact with the demon lord. While the power inherent to their agreement was **** to be shared Aesmaram left the talking to the human.

Mark stopped inches in front of the matron, his cock strained at his trousers, nearly poking Bagra in her ample chest. She startled, but quickly settled trying to avoid staring at his manhood. She did lift a hand reaching for his straining cock, but Markash reached down and cupping her chin and lifting it to look into his eyes. “In due time Matron.” He chided her gently. “Explain why you’ve come to me, and what you offer in tribute.” He was a lord. Lords received tribute. He figured it was as good a first step as any.

“We need a patron.” It was a blunt statement. “We served a dark paladin of Aosoth, but he has not returned in two moons and our power wanes. - We will serve as scouts, guards, servants, and in whatever ways you require.” The Chieftess bowed low her chest thrust forward as she did, showing off her ample cleavage. Mark channeled the dominant part of their combined aura, powerful and demanding it swept across the camp forcing obedience. The goblins all staggered, driven to their knees. It was not as much an effect as Mark had hoped as in the prime of his third tier time he’d have been able to kill with his aura alone; but it was enough. He stalked up to the matron putting his hand on her head and looking past her at the paltry guard that accompanied her.

“You come to me, expecting protection, but without much to offer. I don’t see anything here I need.” Mark released her head walking back to the entrance of the tower. He stared down at her like a mighty bear might eye a foal.

“Lord, we’re a small tribe and do not need much to survive, we will not be a burden.” She paused as those predatory eyes locked onto her. “And I can sense your predilections; I my sisters, and my daughters would find great pleasure in the services we could provide.”

The fire that now sat in Mark’s chest was stoked to life but he choked it back down as best he could. The matron knew exactly what she was doing banking on the demon’s baser instincts giving her a way into him graces.

"And what services are those" Markash looms over the goblin demanding and answer.

Matron Bagra Cinn, kneeling before him, takes a moment to compose herself before responding, her eyes never leaving his. She licks her lips and speaks in a voice that's both confident and seductive, "Our services, Lord Markash, are those of the flesh. We are skilled in the art of pleasure, and our clan is known for our ability to satisfy even the most insatiable of appetites." She glances at his bulging trousers before continuing, "My sisters and I will be at your beck and call, providing you with any and all carnality you crave, and our daughters will be trained to serve as your personal harem, ensuring you are never without companions to warm your bed." The four spearmen behind her exchange nervous glances, understanding the gravity of their matron's offer.

"I have no doubt of your prowess Bagra, - and I will indulge in time. Right now I need to know what other skills you bring us. Your tribe manages to avoid the adventuring parties that come through town, I see you are well dressed and fed, so your raiding parties or trading ventures are successful no doubt."

Matron Bagra Cinn's eyes widen slightly at his words, understanding that he is not immediately swayed by her offer of sexual servitude. She straightens her posture and clears her throat, "Indeed, Lord Markash, we are resourceful. Our scouting abilities are second to none in these lands, and our knowledge of the underbrush and tunnels is extensive. We can gather information, lay traps, and lead your enemies into ambushes without them ever knowing we were there." She glances over her shoulder at her spearmen, who nod in affirmation. "We are also skilled in poisons and alchemy, creating potions that can either incapacitate or kill. And though we may not be strong in the traditional sense, our cunning and stealth make us formidable in combat." As she speaks, there is a definite glint of pride in her eyes, hinting at the goblin's fierce spirit despite their diminutive size.

"I see, and I suppose that would be a worthwhile addition to our strength. Just west of this outpost are a series of caves and tunnels that connect the outpost and the firstcome ruins. Your people may settle there. It will take some time before my human followers will accept your tribe as peers, but I will see it done.”

“Before you leave though. I would have you and your handmaiden attend me inside." Mark walks inside and the chieftess and handmaiden rush to keep pace. The spearmen try to follow but the couple cultists at the tower gate stop them. For a moment it looks like it might come to blows, as fierce as their loyalty to the chieftess appears. She cuts them off with a wave and reluctantly they back-off to wait in the courtyard.

Markash leads Matron Bagra Cinn and her handmaiden into the well-appointed bedroom within the tower. The room is dimly lit by the flickering of candles, casting an intimate glow upon the velvet drapes and fur-covered furniture. A large, ornate bed dominates the space, and he can't help but feel a surge of desire from Aesmaram as the demon's influence recognizes the potential for depraved acts within these walls. The chieftess looks around with curiosity and a hint of apprehension, while the handmaiden seems more nervous, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar human luxuries.

The palpable tension is too much and Aesmaram struggles at his binds within Markash's soul; a pulse of lustful aura emanates from Markash washing across the room. The two goblins stumble as the fires within their sexual cores are ignited.

The intense pulse of lustful aura from Markash hits Matron Bagra Cinn and her handmaiden like a wave of molten desire. Their bodies respond involuntarily, both of them gasping as their skin flushes and their pupils dilate. The Matron's hand moves to her chest, trying to still the rapid beating of her heart, while the handmaiden's knees quiver and she clutches at her own thighs. The scent of arousal fills the room, and the hunger in the demon flushes through Mark’s eyes as the demon and magister eagerly take in the sight of the two goblins succumbing to their power.

As Markash sits on the edge of the bed, he undoes his trousers, his large erection standing proud before the goblin duo, the demon Aesmaram within him begins to manifest. A shimmering, semi-transparent form of Aesmaram materializes, his features a twisted mix of lust and malevolence. The handmaiden's eyes widen with a mix of fear and uncontrollable arousal as she stumbles closer, drawn by the irresistible power of the demon's aura. She drops to her knees and takes Markash's cock into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing out as she begins to suck with a fervor that belies her nervousness.

Matron Bagra Cinn watches as her handmaiden eagerly services Markash, her own body responding to the overwhelming presence of the demon. With trembling hands, she unties her own clothing, revealing her voluptuous form to the warm candlelight. Her breasts are large and firm, her stomach soft and inviting, and her mons is trimmed neatly with a small patch of black fur. As she sits on the edge of the couch, she begins to stroke her clit in time with her handmaiden's bobbing head. Her eyes never leave Markash, a mix of challenge and submission in her gaze.

Mark slides further up onto the bed proper forcing the handmaiden to follow him up onto the bed, she continues sucking his large cock as he runs his hands through her hair forcing her to take him deeper into her throat.

The handmaiden chokes and gasps around Markash's thick cock as he forces her to take him deeper into her throat, her eyes watering but never breaking contact with his. Her movements become more frantic, **** to please the lord before her, even as the demon's aura tightens its grip on her. Meanwhile, Aesmaram's manifested form, a towering and terrifying specter of lust, approaches the handmaiden from behind. His eyes blaze with a hunger that transcends the physical as he reaches out with his ethereal hands and grasps her hips.

The handmaiden's muffled gasps and whimpers echo through the room as Aesmaram's manifested form ruthlessly impales her from behind. Despite her initial shock and fear, she seems to be succumbing to the pleasure of the demon's thick, ethereal cock stretching her small goblin body. Her movements become more erratic as she tries to maintain her rhythm on Markash's cock, her eyes rolling back in her head as she's **** to take him deeper. The sensation of the demon's grip on her hair is almost as intense as the feeling of his cock sliding down her throat, and she's lost in a sea of overwhelming sensations. Mark revels in the sense of dominance and power as she struggles, knowing that she's being used as nothing more than a vessel for their shared pleasure.

As Mark commands Matron Bagra Cinn to join her handmaiden in pleasuring him, the demon's aura intensifies. The chieftess's eyes glaze over with a mix of arousal and trepidation as she crawls onto the bed, her body moving with a feline grace that speaks of years of experience in the art of seduction. She reaches out to stroke the handmaiden's hair, a silent gesture of encouragement or perhaps a claim to the human cock that fills her servant's mouth. The handmaiden, already lost in the throes of **** pleasure, seems to draw strength from Bagra's touch, her movements becoming more enthusiastic despite the clear discomfort of Aesmaram's powerful cock forcing itself into her tight slit. .

The handmaiden cries out, releasing Markash's dick with a pop as the demon’s intense pace drives her to her peak once more. Bagra does not waste the chance quickly mounting Markash's erection. With surprising agility, she swings her leg over Markash and straddles him, her wet cunt engulfing his cock. Her tight goblin pussy stretches around his shaft, her juices coating him as she starts to ride him with a fervor that matches the handmaiden's previous efforts. Her breasts bounce with every bounce on Markash's cock, her eyes never leaving his as she rides him with a mix of passion and defiance. The handmaiden, gasping for air and panting from her **** oral service, watches with a mix of awe and envy as her chieftess takes charge of the situation, her own body still quivering from the intense orgasm that had been torn from her.

The handmaiden's eyes roll back into her head as Aesmaram reaches his peak, the **** of his orgasm causing her body to spasm uncontrollably. Her mouth opens in a silent scream, and her muscles clamp down around his cock as she's pushed past the brink of pleasure. Her body goes limp, and she collapses onto the bed, her chest heaving as she gasps for air. Meanwhile, Matron Bagra Cinn's own rhythm builds as she feels the power of the demon's climax resonate through Markash's body.

Her movements become erratic and wild, her nails digging into your chest as she approaches her own climax. With a final, deep thrust, Markash feels the demon's essence surge through him, and he too reaches his peak. As he fills Bagra with his seed, she throws her head back and cries out in pleasure, her body shuddering as she rides the wave of their combined releases. The room seems to shiver with the intensity of the moment, the air thick with the musk of sex and the aftermath of the demon's power.

——————————

The following day, after a night filled with the echoes of passion and the promise of newfound allegiance, Markash and the goblin scouts set out to explore the caves west of the outpost. The caves are a labyrinthine network of tunnels and chambers, a testament to the industriousness of the smugglers that must have worked with the imperials during their time manning the outpost overlooking Merrit’s Bend.

Mark follows the adept goblin scouts as they lead deeper into the complex network of caves before pausing the largest chamber. It is covered in bioluminescent fungi that cast the chamber in an eerie blue glow but leave it well lit and surprisingly inviting.

"What do you think Bagra? Does this suit the needs of you tribe?"

Matron Cinn nods thoughtfully as she surveys the large chamber at the heart of the caves. "Yes, Lord Markash," she says, her voice a little hoarse from the previous night's activities. "These caves are perfect for my tribe. They offer shelter, protection, and the space we need to thrive." Her eyes gleam with a cunning light as she looks around the cavern. “Yes this will be perfect my lord.”

“Excellent. I will leave you to settle in then.” Mark turns to leave. As Mark turns to leave the chamber, the goblins begin to murmur among themselves, a mix of excitement and apprehension in their voices. The handmaiden, though still visibly shaken from the previous night's events, manages a small smile as she glances at the now-empty space where the human lord had been moments ago. Matron Bagra Cinn, however, remains stoic, watching Markash's retreating form with a calculating gaze.

Once Markash is out of earshot, she issues orders to her spearmen to secure the area and for the rest of the tribe to begin moving their supplies and kin into the newfound sanctuary. The caves come alive with the sound of goblins scurrying about, their high-pitched voices echoing off the cold stone walls as they set to work. The air is filled with an aura of excitement and anticipation for the future that lies ahead under their new, powerful patron.