A demanding damsel

A few short figures scurry in the smoke as you advance slowly on the large central hut at the heart of the goblins' fortified camp, but they are moving fast and when they detect you they retreat even faster away. You keep your bloodied holy greatsword Lover up and your senses keen, but already you can feel yourself relaxing a little.

You shift a little uncomfortably in your armor suddenly aware again of your body. Your nipples are hard and rubbing and your snatch is wet. The faith of Lucretia is not prudish and some of your trainers at the monastery in River’s Edge were earthy women. They spoke of this, of how when battle ends a woman can feel full of life and its needs after risking ****. You have once or twice coupled with rutting enthusiasm after the hardest fought training duels. But you’ve never felt after-fighting horniness a tenth as strong as now.

You remember the barrel of aphrodisiac berries the goblin carried into the hut ahead. You feel your hands tighten their grip on the phallic hilt of Lover. You remember how berries and sword combined last night to drive you to lewd acts. How you pushed that thick haft in and out of your clenching eager pussy as the taste of the berries made you writhe with hot lust. In and out the hilt went, pommel inside you, making shameful wet noises, until you came screaming.

“Later, Lover, later I will be your sheathe.”

Your pale freckled cheeks glow once again with embarrassment, though there is no one but the sword and goddess to hear your words. You try to put such thoughts from your mind. But in your heart you know this is a promise just short of a sacred vow and you will keep it.

The sounds of a woman’s wanton needy moaning makes it both harder and easier to keep those thoughts away. You have reached the prisoner’s hut. You tear open the hide flap that conceals what is within and step quickly back, ready for ambush and to give your half-elven green eyes time to adjust to the dimmer light within. You almost gag on the stink released, the smell of a dozen goblins’ rancid cum.

In the hut no goblin waits in ambush. Instead there is a young elf woman with long pointed ears laid naked on her belly, ass towards you, knees resting on a bedroll. Fresh green cum, purple berry juice, and drool leaks from her mouth as she moans in **** mindless lust. Her arms are bound behind her back by crude rope and her large teardrop breasts hang down freely. Dried green cum is in her blonde hair and covers the pale flawless skin of her back. Her legs are kept apart by an iron spreader bar that must have been bought or stolen from some slavers. Her asshole gapes wide and her pussy is ready. Both her rear holes leak thick green semen. She regards you a moment, a flicker of disappointment in her dim blue eyes.

“Cock,” the elf maiden demands in a moan as she squirms and strains at the ropes and iron holding her down and ready to be mounted. It is not an escape attempt. She is mindless with the need to be fucked. With a shiver you remember the fire of lust the berries lit in you. The oppressive heat burning in your tits and pussy that almost made you into a drooling, helpless, mewling horny paladin.

The elf woman’s deep blue eyes focus on you again, filled with a bottomless raging ocean of rutting madness. There’s a pause, as if she’s trying to remember what you mean. She moans again in demand, but this time her demand is a different word, “cunt”.

You realize that if you free this woman she will be upon you. Forcing her tongue in your mouth, making you taste sour goblin cum and sweet berry juice. She will tear at your armor’s straps in unreasoning need, **** to get at your breasts and pussy. She will rub her overused cunt, leaking with goblin foulness and her own wetness, on your soft legs or find a place of armored hardness to rub and frot herself. If you let her she will service your pure paladin pussy with ferocious purpose.

Suppressing your own moan of needy desire, you resolve that you cannot allow that. And not just because it would be wrong. The goblins will realize the ruse played on them soon and return. You will not trick them again. They will take you, and **** you, and **** you so you beg for it, like this mind and body violated sex freak. You swallow and tell yourself it is only fear making your heart beat harder.

While you consider how you will rescue this unexpectedly uncooperative damsel, you head to the heavy chest and two barrels you have spotted in the back of the hut. The barrels are full of berries, and your mouth salivates at the remembered taste of them. You concentrate instead on the chest. There is a lock of surprising quality holding it closed, but perhaps it should be not surprising having seen the spreader bar between holding the gorgeous prisoner’s legs open. These goblins may trade with slavers or other evil merchants. The lock is needed; what goblin could trust another? You exert your great strength and tear the lock off with Lover’s long reach, hoping that will safely trigger any traps.

You rummage swiftly through the chest. Inside are a myriad of items: purses of coins, a pair of potions, a scroll, necklace with heart-shaped red stone, cloth-of-gold vestments, a black velvet mask stitched with silver thread, and more. You whistle. The gold and silver coins in the purses are enough to buy at least two riding horses. These goblins have made much from banditry, the vile things.

There is also a backpack made from a material you have not seen before. It is greenish-brown and feels like leather, but it is scaled like it was taken from a gigantic serpent. Something about it puts you in mind of the sea. The quality of its stitching and subtle ornamentation is amazing, and you guess that it must have been taken from the blonde elf. Its chief contents is a book and opening it a little reveals to you arcane symbols in a beautiful hand.

You glance back at the elf mage, for that is what she must be.

“Lick my pussy! Finger my cunt! I need to cummmmmm,” she begs. She shudders and a little light goes from her eyes. Her moaned words continue as a babble of “fuck, cum, cunt, cock”. Apparently even lucidly begging to be fucked took a supreme effort of will that she cannot sustain.