Harbingers of Celebration [M/F, F/F, Slaveplay, Maledom]

“I see that you’ve been busy.”

You turn your head to find Gromgol, his apprentice beside him.

“I must admit,” he says, “I was afraid you would take all of it. We considered it a worthy sacrifice when the village’s survival was on the line, but…”

You smile at them. “Your friendship, and that of your tribe, is something with value all its own.”

Gromgol laughs. “I’m glad you think so. I suppose you will be adding that book to your pile.”

“I will,” you say. You bring it over, and give your accounting of it to Gromgol, as well as the coins that added themselves to your Coin Purse.

“I suppose you will need multiple trips to bring it all back to your home? Or will you be taking slaves to help you carry it all?”

You hadn’t considered that as a possibility. But you are hoping you might be able to manage something else.

You grab an amphora of wine. You reach deep, into the part of yourself that is bonded to your land. A screen pops into the air.

Resources Detected!

What followed was a list of the things you had set aside, but the jewels, ingots, and tome are greyed out. Odd. You select the option to add them all to your lair. All of the trade goods vanish, but those items which had been greyed out remained.

Error: Treasure Items cannot be stockpiled. Build a Treasure Room.

Hrm.

You open your inventory. The ingots aren’t big, but they are many. The jewels are few and small. But the tome is quite large. Nevertheless, you should have enough space… if you get rid of all this food.

Well, time to eat.

You turn to Gromgol. “Might I make use of a fire? I’ve food of my own, but no means to cook it.”

He and his apprentice are visibly astonished by what you just did, but Gromgol has recovered enough to chuckle at your question. “My friend, the village is rebuilt. A festival will soon begin. You’re welcome to partake in all of it, fires included. How exactly did you manage to fit all of that into your inventory?”

You smile. “I didn’t.” You explain it to Gromgol, before adding, “If Krombor hasn’t noticed something similar, I don’t know if there is one. As I said before, that Crystal was different from mine. Mine actually didn’t cover nearly as large an area.”

The three of you depart from the hut, and Gromgol thinks for a moment. “I take it your Crystal did not give you any followers?”

“No,” you say, “did Krombor?”

“All of us goblins were automatically made so.”

But you were not, and given the way he phrased that neither were the slaves taken from Thaeldir’s Crossing.

“The properties of the Claimant Crystal Brogung had hid served to fully restore everything the update had cost,” you say. “It may be that was the point, to account for the changes, and allow for recovery.”

“Which did not happen until now,” says Gromgol, “because of Brogung’s immediate raid, and his **** soon after.”

The three of you reach the nearest of several fires you can see. A boar carcass has been stuck on posts above it, and your mouth waters at the smell. One menu and a few moments later, you have three fish roasting next to the fire, with yourself seated on a log bench.

“The only thing I don’t understand,” you say to Gromgol, “is why Brogung didn’t use the Crystal right after returning.”

“The village was celebrating the successes of the raid,” he says. “Brogung was going to celebrate with this one here.” He motions to his apprentice. She looks uncomfortable at the memory.

“Adventurers come,” she says, “crow scream. I see fight.”

You regard the apprentice, as Gromgol corrects her grammar, and she stiffens under your gaze. She looks appealing. Much more appealing than she had been before. Her face is free of blemishes, and evenly proportioned. Her curves look soft and supple. You narrow your eyes.

“What’s changed with you, then?”

“N– No change,” she stammers, “Nothing changed. All goblins have feat. A feat, um, that makes us seem uglier for a while.”

“Not only goblins,” adds Gromgol. “It’s called [Monstrous Appearance], and it’s something several creatures with the Monster subtype have. It affects everything without that subtype. You must have just gotten used to her by now.”

Hrm.

Your pondering on that score is interrupted by a now-familiar voice barking orders. You turn your head to see Lyrbek directing a group of goblins, all wearing iron collars, but not as large or heavy as the ones on the captives you saw earlier. These are lighter circlets, like the one Gromgol’s apprentice is wearing, but these slaves wore nothing else, and had rope leashes attached to their collars. The goblin slaves all have one other trait in common: they’re all female.

You watch Lyrbek distribute the she-goblins to the crowds around the different fires, one eye on your meal. Eventually, when she only has three left, she makes her way over to your fire. Those three eye you with wonder, and begin to mutter and whine, but Lyrbek has a firm grip on their leashes.

“Toys for feast,” she says.

Ah.

“I didn’t see any of them with the slaves earlier,” you say.

“Fuck slaves,” says Lyrbek, “dose with pinkmoss, make slut. No stop sucking man-slaves. Had to move, maintain order.” She pauses for a moment. “Shee no come look at slaves again.”

“I’ve no space to keep them where they couldn’t just run away,” you say with a shrug, “this pinkmoss is an interesting possibility, but if they couldn’t do work other than fuck, they’d be more of a hindrance than anything else. At least for now.”

Lyrbek grunted in affirmation. “Good sense. Maybe buy slaves later, after building?”

You smile. “I’ll definitely consider it.”

“Still, this is party, and Shee is guest.” Lyrbek motions to the slaves she’s brought with her, and you notice another little detail: two of them have collars that aren’t iron, and actually look like leather that’s been painted black.

“Even if Shee not take ****,” says Lyrbek, “Shee deserves fun during party, yes? Goblins still own, but let Shee use. As guest.”

How thoughtful. Especially since you don’t think those collars are designed to come off.

“I would enjoy that very much,” you say, “thank you. To be honest, I didn’t know you kept goblins as slaves.”

Lyrbek passes the leashes of the two leather-collard slaves to you. “Not many,” she says, “Goblins small, feisty. Not good for labor. Only weak, pretty goblins make good fuck ****.”

Both the slaves you’ve been handed are trying to get at your cock, but they don’t seem to understand how pants work. Snorting, you stand to undo your belt, lay your sword just to the side of you, and unlace your pants. Your cock springs out when they hit the ground—the sights and sounds of the tribe enjoying their fuck slaves has begun to excite you. Your slaves descend on it, their hands and mouths quickly bringing you to full hardness.

Looking over to your side, you see Lyrbek has stripped off her own pants, and is shoving the head of the last **** between her legs. The weaker goblin struggles for a bit, before settling in to give Lyrbek what she wants. Lyrbek’s position gives you decent look at her ass—large, for a creature of her size, and muscular.

Looking down at your slaves, they’re… well, they’re goblins. Prettier than most goblins, but that’s not saying much. Apparently they have a feat that makes them look uglier until you, what was it, “get used to them?”

Well, if you take it slow, they might be nice to look at by the time you’re finished.

You sit back down, and drag the slaves down with you, pulling them down to your balls. It only takes them a moment to get to work, sucking and slobbering. Their technique could use some work, but they’re certainly enthusiastic.

You hear a low, keening whine. Looking to its source, you find Gromgol’s apprentice, standing alone. Her nipples are poking through the thin fabric she’s wearing, and a dark spot between her legs. And she’s… standing alone. Gromgol must have gone off somewhere.

You give her a playful smile. “Enjoying the show?”

She nods, biting her lip, but saying nothing.

“Well,” you say,” why not join in?”

She whines again. “Can’t” she says, “master Gromgol not let me.”

“He doesn’t?”

“Not ever,” she says, “I belong to master Gromgol, and he…”

Lyrbek barks out a laugh. “Gromgol old, can’t fuck.” She moans, and pulls harder on her ****’s head. “Poor slut no get any cock. Ah!” Lyrbek’s legs buckle, and she falls to her knees, pushing her **** to the ground as she does. They both seem to take it in stride, with Lyrbek straddling her ****’s head to grind on her mouth. She starts repeating something in the goblin language, and starts to shake. The **** lifts her head to latch on to, presumably, her clit. Lyrbek shouts, and falls forward, spraying her juices on her ****’s chin and neck, and giving you a clear view of her convulsing pussy.

You allow your own slaves to rise up either side of your cock, drinking in the sight of Lyrbek laying there, panting. She looks back at you, and gives you a smirk.

“Shee like? Shee want fuck Lyrbek?” She wiggles her rear end at you. “Lyrbek want see Shee fuck dumb sluts. Not just mouth.”

You smirk back at her, then look down at the slaves she gave you. However that feat works, it must have worn off. Now you can only see their curves. The one on the left has the larger bust, and the one on the right has wider hips.

Quickly, you unlace your gambeson, and stow both it and your shirt in your inventory. You haul the bustier **** up onto your lap, trapping your cock between the two of you. The other one whines, and grasps at your thigh. You stroke her hair, and whisper for her to be patient. You don’t think she actually understands you, but she seems mollified.

Looking up to Lyrbek, you see she’s repositioned herself to give her a good view of you, while still riding her ****’s face. Looking to the other side, Gromgol’s apprentice is laying on her side, with one hand up her shirt, fondling a breast, and the other down her pants. She stiffens when she sees you looking at her, but both of her hands keep moving.

You wrap your arms around the **** on your lap, and lift her up. Her legs find purchase on the log you’re sitting on, and you move your hand to line your cock up with her entrance. She places her hands on your shoulders. You pull her down onto you, and your head slips inside.

She’s tight. Tighter than any hole you can remember having before. You’re reasonably certain the only reason you can get inside her at all is because she’s soaking wet. You pull her down further, and she wails. It sounds like pleasure to you, but you don’t understand her. Both your hands on her hips now, you pull her down pull her down further, with her tightness gradually enveloping every inch of you. You’re reasonably certain she’s not even speaking coherently in her own language, because she keeps saying one word in particular.

“Cock.” You look back over to Lyrbek. She says the word the **** on you keeps repeating. “Mean cock.”

The **** on you buries her head in your chest, her hands still on your shoulders, as she grinds against your lap, saying it over and over again.

You slide your hands forward to grab her ass, and she moans. You lift her up, and she whines. You thrust upwards, and let her fall back down, and she cries out. It takes a few times, but she gets the picture, and starts riding you properly. You bring a hand down on her ass with a firm smack, and it jiggles. It’s too much. You had their mouths on you before, and now she’s just so tight.

You pull the **** down on you hard, pushing yourself as deep inside her as you can, and you let go. She convulses around you, milking you, drawing out your orgasm even longer. When it’s over, she collapses into you.

You stroke her hair, and pat her on the back, before laying her down on the log.

The other **** Lyrbek gave you is on you in an instant, her lips wrapped around your softening cock. It doesn’t take long for her to coax you back to full hardness. When she does, you pull her off, and throw her to the ground. She lands on her back, and while she’s disoriented at first, she catches on when you take up a position between her legs.

You push inside her, and she’s just as tight as the other one had been. But for all of her tightness, you’re able to settle into an aggressive rhythm, pounding into her. She does her best to thrust out into you, in time with you, but for whatever reason, she’s struggling to keep up with you. Taking hold of her thighs, you push and pull her body to match her to your pace yourself. Her moans vaguely resemble the goblin word for cock. Her pussy grabs you more strongly, making her so tight that you can’t actually pull out anymore. Her body writhes before you as she sprays your crotch with her juices.

But you don’t cum. Not yet—you just did, after all.

Once she relaxes enough for you to move again, you start again into her again. Your eyes fall on her breasts, bouncing with the rhythm you set for her body. After a quick test to see that you can keep her moving with only one hand, your other reaches for her chest. You grab a breast, and you squeeze. The **** moans, and you squeeze harder.

Off to the side, Lyrbek cries out. She falls forward again, but this time her head lands on your ****’s. She grabs the ****’s face, and pulls her into a kiss. The sight of it all—the **** beneath you, Lyrbek, and the other **** beneath her—is too much. You push into your ****, all the way to the hilt. You squeeze tightly on her chest and on her hip. You stop holding it back. The feeling of your cum filling her sets the **** off, and she cums on your cock again.

You step back, staggering to your feet. You’re still hard. You aren’t sure how.

“Turn around,” you say. It isn’t a request.

And Lyrbek does. She’s even less steady on her feet than you are, but she manages to turn around. She straddles her ****’s head again, but this time with her ass facing you. She bends down, presenting herself to you, and wiggles her hips invitingly.

As you take your place behind her, you see Gromgol’s apprentice crawl up beside you both on her hands and knees. Her pants are completely soaked.

She probably wants a better view of you fucking the slavemaster. She comes to a stop, and you smirk.

“Further forward,” you say, “if you’re going to watch us, I want to be able to see you finger yourself.”

The apprentice blushes.

“Yes!” Lyrbek grinds back against you. “Want see **** slut!”

As she obliges your demands, you line yourself up with Lyrbek’s pussy. You push in. She’s _even tighter _than the last one. That shouldn’t be possible. But it’s happening. She’s also even wetter. Taking hold of her hips, you pull her back onto your cock.

“Wait!” Lyrbek cries, “Need wait! Cock too– ah!”

It took you a second to process what she was asking for, but you would have waited. But the **** beneath you and Lyrbek had other ideas. She reaches her arms around your waist and pulls, and you don't have the leverage to resist. You fall forward, palms slapping down on the dirt on either side of Lyrbek.

Now you're hilted inside her. And she begins to spasm around you. She's already cumming on your cock. Even though she had just been asking you to slow down.

The conclusion you come to is not, you would later reflect, the most rational. It's driven more by your own lust than any coherent train of thought.

You push yourself back up to your knees. You slap her ass, hard, and pull her back even harder. You reach your hands forward, one grabbing her shoulder, and the other her ponytail. You pull on both of them, and bring her roughly vertical.

You lean down to her ear. “You love it,” you whisper, “You’re smarter, you’re stronger, but at the end of the day you’re just as much of a slut as the toys you brought me.” She doesn’t say anything, instead squeezing down on you even tighter.

You let her ride out her orgasm on your cock, reveling in her tightness. Once you’ve given her a moment to recover, you throw her back down. You push her head between the legs of the **** she’s been using this entire time. It’s only fair, after all—the poor girl hasn’t even cum once.

Lyrbek starts eating the **** out, and you pull your hands back to her hips, and set back into her again. Your strokes are slower than with the last one, but slamming into her harder. You smack her ass again, the other side this time.

You look up to the apprentice, laying on her side, masturbating furiously. Once you’re sure she sees you looking at her, you rake your eyes over her body, taking in her heaving breasts, and the swell of her hips. Once you sweep your gaze back up, locking eyes with her, you smack Lyrbek’s ass again. And again. And again.

You’re interrupted by Lyrbek cums again, bringing your thrusts to a screeching halt. You smack her ass again.

“I’m trying to fuck you,” you say, “and I can’t do that if your pathetic ass keeps cumming.” You lean down, grab Lyrbek’s head, and push it into the dirt. “You can’t help it, can you? All these stupid goblins are too afraid of you to actually fuck you how you like it.” She whines in response, but she’s still grinding back against your crotch. “And you need them to be afraid of you, so you never let them see this side of you. But you couldn't help it today.” You look around, and the rest of the goblins are too busy with their own celebration to notice you. “You’re lucky the stupid bastards are too busy with their own sluts to notice you now.” Now she groans.

Once she’s relaxed, you pound her faster than before, holding her face against the dirt. She thrusts back against you.

“You love it,” you say, “you love being treated like one of the slaves.” With your free hand, you smack her ass again, and this time she squeals. She's not the only one.

The sound of another girl squealing pulls your attention away from Lyrbek. You look up to see the apprentice. She was the only one watching, the only one listening. All her wriggling has dragged her pants down some, and you can see that she’s fucking herself with three fingers.

“You want it just as bad,” you say to her, “I bet you wish that somebody gave you pinkmoss, just so you could spend all day filled with cock instead of being ogled by somebody too old to get it up and fuck you.”

Evidently, that’s too much for her. Her legs clench around her hand, her body writhes against it, **** to get those fingers even a little bit deeper. “Yes!” She cried. “Yes!”

You can feel your own orgasm building. You swat Lyrbek’s ass again. She squeals again.

“I’m close,” you say. “Do you want it? Do you want me to pump you full of cum?”

“Yes!” Lyrbek’s voice joins the apprentice’s. “Please! Breed! Breed slut!

The village is so loud with the sounds of feasting and fucking that nobody else can hear her, but you can. And it’s too much. You pull her back, and push yourself as deep as you can go. You erupt inside her. You fill her with rope after rope of cum. An errant thought flashes by, that you shouldn’t be cumming this much after having already gone twice, but it’s quickly swallowed up by the pleasure. You almost don’t even notice Lyrbek cumming underneath you.

Once you’re able to pull out of Lyrbek, you move to lean against one of the log benches around the fire. You look down at the fire, and you notice that your fish are done.

You look around yourself. Gromgol’s apprentice is flat on her back, cooing gently. The slaves you fucked are sprawled where you left them, snoring gently. Lyrbek is laying on top of her ****, her ass red from your rough treatment, whimpering, as that **** eagerly laps up your cum as it leaks out of her pussy.

You settle down to eat. This is the best-tasting meal you’ve had in a long, long time.