The next phase of your journey

A knight usually awakens with the dawn, or such is how you are meant to be trained. But yesterday you only went to sleep after the dawn, and between the long walk after your capture the previous night and your... activities with the She-Orc you had fallen into slumber quite exhausted. Your ordinary sleep schedule was completely disregarded.

It's the sound of the goblin tongue that brings you back to bleary consciousness. The room is still dim, but you can see the fading sunlight of twilight cast upon the floor - likely from an open door. Much of the stable is still dim, however. The She-Orc's breasts still press into your back from where you fell asleep together. Then there were more words and you could feel them pull away, to the sound of the straw shifting and what you can only describe as a nicker. The loss of the warmth and contact makes you shift unhappily.

You whine and try to stretch, your mind failing to process what is happening on account of your not being prepared for waking at the current hour. Then there's a sharp smack and a stinging pain in your ass, and you yelp and flail across the floor in your bindings. Laughter draws your attention to a goblin standing near where you had been laying; he spanked you like some misbehaving toddler! Or, you think as your thoughts slow enough to process, perhaps more like a horse and a crop. Your knightly pride wants you to glare at him in defiance, the desires that drew you to this plan want you to embrace the humiliation. You settle for moving your weight off the stinging spot on your rear.

After a few more snickers the goblin approaches you, what you now recognize as a bridle and reigns in hand. You don't pull away when he brings then up to your face, and they clip back onto your bit gag quickly and easily. A few tugs accompanying the words he's saying indicate that he wants you to rise. You stand quickly and mostly without trembling. Still holding the reins, the goblin turns and starts to lead you out of the stables, stopping only to also grab the reigns of the She-Orc who has been waiting patiently nearby. It feels odd being led like this - in most of the fantasies you'd really thought of you'd only imagined being guided with a taut line, but with how close you follow the reigns remain slack, so the addition is instead a small but notable weight pulling down.

Stepping outside confirms that the hour is sunset, orange-gold light filtering past the tree line. You can see what appears to be the last parts of the goblin camp being broken up and packed away. Various hobgoblins are shouldering backpacks, while one - you recognize him as the one who had been riding the She-Orc yesterday - stands to the side giving what must be orders or directions. He must be in charge of this group, then, you decide.

You and the She-Orc are lead to the hitching post outside again, and your gag is exchanged for the one that left you room to drink. As you did last - morning, you suppose - you drink from the pool as a horse would. As a Wo-Mount does. The She-Orc does the same beside you.

You straighten back up from drinking to find the goblin who harnessed you waiting. He's holding what appears to be the same biscuit that you remember eating yesterday. He reaches up to your face, within his reach because you had to kneel to drink, and swiftly unbuckles your gag, pulling it away and offering you the food. You briefly consider refusing - and then your stomach growls. You flush as the Hob-Goblin chuckles, and then chide yourself for flushing. Given your state, is a growling stomach really worth being embarrassed over? Still, now that you are aware of the feeling of hunger you can hardly ignore it. Insisting to your lingering sense of propriety that it is merely a necessity, you begin to eat the offered food.

It is still bland and flavorless, and the texture is not exactly inspiring either. But you notice this time that it's surprisingly filling; and this one biscuit is enough to leave you feeling like you've eaten a full meal. Very useful for long travels where flavor is a distant secondary concern to sustenance. There are easily a half-dozen missions and quests you can recall where you would have been **** for whatever this biscuit is or something like it.

You chew and swallow the last of it thoughtfully, and only then notice that the Hob-Goblin has produced and offered you one more thing. That same blue candy from yesterday. You stare at it. A part of you still insists that you should reject it, hold firm. You are not an animal to be hand-fed no matter your temporary situation, it insists. Another part of you notes that, strictly speaking, you already allowed him to hand-feed you, even if the larger size of the biscuit allowed it to be more impersonal. Would this really be so different? And one, quiet thought suggests that you should try it at least the once, and see what it feels like. Get the full experience.

A soft shuffling noise pulls your gaze to the side. The She-Orc and her Hob-Goblin are together. As you watch she casually accepts the treat the goblin offers, uncaring of how she practically nuzzles into the goblin's hand as she does so, or how after she takes the treat into her mouth the goblin reaches up and begins to gently stroke her hair. If anything she seems pleased.

You look back to the goblin in front of you to find him also turning back from looking at the pair to the side of you. He raises an eyebrow and lifts the treat higher, as though asking for you to make a decision. You hesitate a moment longer - and then, slowly, you bend over to take the treat.

The thing you were paying the most attention to - and so the thing you notice first - is the feeling of the goblin's hand. You were expecting something filthy and unpleasant, that fit with their barbaric reputation. Instead, if not for the color and size, you find that you would have been hard-pressed to find differences between the feeling of the goblin's hand and that of any other hand you've felt. It is still odd to eat from it, but a part of the oddity is that it is not the strangeness you had expected.

As for the treat itself, you find it to be sweet as expected. It is flavored like some sort of berry - not any you recognize. You want to say blueberry, but you're fairly certain that is just because of its color. You find it to be a hard candy, dissolving slowly in your mouth, and the flavor is a nice break from the biscuit you ate earlier.

As you're rolling the candy around in your mouth, distracted by considering its nature, you freeze in surprise when you feel an unexpected sensation - a hand on your head. Paying attention again you see that it is the goblin who has reached up and touched you so, and has now frozen himself, waiting to see your reaction. From his body language it's clear that he's prepared to dive for cover if you respond violently.

You consider this touch on your person. Then you think about the expression on the She-Orc's face. Finally, you decide to see where this is going to go. Still watching the goblin, you deliberately release the tension that entered you when the touch surprised you.

The goblin seems to notice your decision and smiles. If this were a pure fantasy it would be lewd and promise all sorts of naughty excitement, and there is some of that given how you can see him periodically taking in your figure. But there is also something simpler in it, something that reminds you of many of the knight trainees the first time they were allowed to pet their own mounts.

Carefully the goblin's hand begins to stroke across the top of your head and card through your hair. The motions are smooth, gentle. You find yourself relaxing into it, an odd feeling of contentment growing; you aren't unfamiliar with touch, strictly, but as a knight touch was businesslike, strict and momentary. Now you are - at least for the moment - a Wo-Mount. There are no expectations for what touch is and isn't allowed, you don't need to decide and judge every motion, you just need to accept it. And while the She-Orc did touch you last night that was frantic and energetic. This is calm, soothing. You can't help but like it. The goblin speaks to you as he pets you, somehow sounding soothing even despite the unfamiliar language's harshness, and you can't help but like that too.

You lose track of time while you're being pet in that way. The bit gag is placed in your mouth again sometime during that and you just notice it enough to register that it happened, along with some other bindings. You give a brief squeal when you feel the rod being re-inserted into your cunt, which prompts more soothing pets and words until you settle. Your situational awareness only really starts to return when you feel the goblin's pets slowly come to a stop - and then you feel a weight on your back, and your awareness snaps back all at once.

You try to twist around to see what's on your back and hear words in the goblin language again, and feel one hand holding your shoulder and the other stroking your hair again. You've been mounted in your distraction!

You could jolt and shake the goblin on your back off, most likely - you're strong enough for it. And while you're at it if you decided that this was all too much you're strong enough to break your restraints, run for the lake and your gear, and abandon this whole adventure. But that would mean breaking your cover and ending this whole trip. And, you think to yourself as your surprise fades, can you really say you tried being a Wo-Mount if you never let anyone ride you?

You feel a gentle pressure at your sides along with a word. Guessing at what that means you stand up with a grunt, swaying slightly under the new weight before you adjust. A tug at the reigns attached to your bit directs you to turn around. The whole camp has been taken down and packed by now, and the group is organized for travel. The old Hob-Goblin on the She-Orc Wo-Mount is at the head of the pack and has clearly been watching you and your rider carefully. Seeing that you've been mounted and made ready he nods once, approvingly. Then he brings his own Wo-Mount around in a turn and gives what is clearly an order. The whole group starts into motion. There's a brief press into your own sides - your rider's shoes, you realize - and a murmured word. Figuring what the command you're being given is based on context again, you start forward yourself. The faux-cock churns at the movement - something you had briefly forgotten about. You moan at the unexpected sensation, and you both feel and hear your rider chuckle.