Smother the goblin king and attempt to escape

As much as you're enjoying Zakrog's tonguework on your sopping slit, you'd rather be done with the vile goblin and make your escape. It's as easy as sitting down. One moment you're squatting above his face and the next you sit heavily and smother the gross goblin with your quim. The gluttonous Zakrog doesn't even realize you're attempting to kill him, not at first at least. He takes your smothering seat as an enticement to double his efforts and you feel his long tongue snaking deep inside you.

Eventually, he realizes you're not going to let him up for air and he begins thrashing and kicking. His attempts to free himself gradually weaken and you think you've won when you suddenly feel a terrible pain between your legs. You leap up and Zakrog gasps for air. A drop of blood falls from your slit where Zakrog has delivered a painful bite with his tiny goblin teeth.

"Guards!" he cries.

You leap for the potions, but not in time. Zakrog's muscular warriors storm into the tent and seize you. Your attempt to escape has backfired terribly, now you are not only still a ****, but your master is extremely angry. It's hard to blame him, you did try to **** him.

That night he ties you to a post in the middle of camp and invites all of his men to have their turn. The warriors are first, rutting you from behind and stuffing their rigid cocks into your slit. They cum inside you, one after another, until you are dripping their foamy spunk down your thighs and out of your raw pussy.

The animal drivers and porters take you next. They use your mouth and your cunt in equal measure and some cradle your breasts or stroke themselves off over your face. You spit their rancid seed onto the ground, but as often as not they're so deep in your throat that they fill your belly without any possibility of stopping them.

The lowliest servants, the manure cleaners and the potato peelers, are left to have your ass. Their small pricks penetrate you in a seemingly endless parade of fucking. Before long your ass is numb to the feeling of them as they pump your bowels full of load after load.

In the morning you are aching from all of the ****, but it's something you soon become used to. You are the camp's entertainment as the goblin caravan travels the countryside. Slaves come and go, but you are always there in the night, being fucked by the warriors or the lesser goblins. You service them with your mouth to earn crusts of bread or steal a rotten hunk of cheese from their table after a long night passed between their tents.

You grow heavy with children and give birth to a litter. Your breasts swell with milk that Zakrog uses in his potions. Other goblins take your half-goblin welps since you are not worthy to be a brood mother. You're just a thing, less than the other slaves even, forever branded as a piece of flesh to entertain the goblins.