“Mind yourself,” she warns.
“Must measure for your gusset,” he says and insistently strokes her quim with his bony fingers.
Bronwen purses her lips to stifle another sound as the withered goblin begins rubbing at her cuntlips and spreading them open with his touch. His pretense of measuring seems to be abandoned as he presses a long digit into her hot channel. She breathes loudly through her nose as he begins to fuck his finger in and out of her tender depth. He adds another finger and chuckles with lust.
“Yes, you like,” he says, telling her rather than asking her. His other hand caresses her backside, running over the ample curve and teasing at her crack. “Your round bottom so nice. Mmmmm… yes, lean over now. More. Yes!”
He leans up as her breasts dangle over him and begins to suck at her nipple. The warmth of his mouth and the suction sends pleasure pulsing to her clit. He fucks her with a third finger, pumping his digits in and out of her tight channel and making her fight to keep from moaning. His tongue curls around her nipple. He pops his lips free and licks his way to her other breast. As he sucks her sensitive bud into his mouth she feels the graze of his sharp teeth.
“Ahh!” She softly cries.
“Yes, yes, so soft and juicy,” he laughs, pressing his face up and into the dangling weight of her tits. “Mmmm. Imagine full of milk. You need pups.”
“No,” she whimpers, on the verge of orgasm.
“Oh, maybe Gerrik give pups,” he cackles between sucks on her nipples. “Maybe I give pups.”
The thought of being defiled by this rude old goblin sends a thrill of pleasure through her body. Though she feels no affection for Jebruk, she cannot deny his skill. He has talented hands and they are driving her over the edge.
“I’m… I’m cumming,” she cries, her voice a whisper.
“Yesss!” Jebruk hisses, his breath hot against her tits. “Do cum! Cum for Jebruk!”
“Noooo!” She cries in despair, but it is useless. The tide of her pleasure crashes through her, inner walls clutching at Jebruk’s thrusting fingers and pulses of ecstasy radiating from her sucked nipples to her throbbing clit. She even jerks her hips as she cums, unable to resist the weight of her climax as it flows through her body.
As her pleasure recedes, she collapses to her knees beside Gerrik, bracing on his shoulders for balance. The old goblin cackles gleefully.
“Yes, good, yes,” he laughs and messily licks his fingers clean of her juices. “Elf so sweet! I sew now. You sit.”
He motions to a tiny chair that is so low to the ground when she sits on it her knees are in her face. She clings to them, covering up as much as possible as Jebruk works.
“Move chair closer,” he demands. “I need help. You sit and help. Use hand.”
Jebruk works furiously at sewing. His fingers are a blur, moving from spindle to thread to his silver needle. He pauses every so often and puts down the needle to cut the cloth. As he works, so does Bronwen. She tries not to look at what she is doing, but that hardly helps. Her hand is wrapped around his slender cock as she slowly strokes up and down his length. His prick is very skinny compared to Gerrik’s, although it is quite long in comparison as well. The faster she wanks him in her soft hand, the faster he works on her garment.
Every so often, he pauses and works literal magic, causing the fabric to stretch and enlarge and provide more material for him to work with. He finishes her loincloth and move on to combining the scraps with magic and enlarging them sufficiently to create a sling for her breasts. As he works, his cock begins to twitch and glistening clear liquid drips out, lubricating Bronwen’s stroking fingers.
“Ah, yes,” he croaks, stopping his work and leaning his head back. “Yes, you point cock somewhere else or your new clothes smell like seed.”
She angles his slender cock towards her legs and wanks him carefully. Jebruk lets out a grunt and begins firing long, hot ropes of milky cum from his cock. They splash against Bronwen’s folded legs, dripping down the back of her thigh and the front of her chin onto the floor. Several more gushes follow in a diminishing flow, dribbling over her fingers and to the floor, and finally to his tight bollocks.
HAND SEX + 300 XP
The text floats in the air and dissipates. It is almost enough to cause Bronwen to level up! Just 100 more and she will reach Level 3!
She slows her fingers on Jebruk’s cock. He seems sated for the moment, but his prick remains completely stiff.
“Up!” He cries, leaping from his workbench. “I sew top here. Bend over bench.”
“Um, alright,” says Bronwen, her thigh and fingers still dripping with his cum. She bends over the workbench and Jebruk forces her to bend lower, mashing her breasts against spindles and thimbles and measuring strings. The deceptively spry old goblin leaps onto the chair she had been using and stands behind her. She looks back over her shoulder and asks, “What are you doing?”
“No worry,” says Jebruk. “I rub in cheeks and work!”
She is not certain what he means until he drops his work and sewing tools onto her back, grabs her ass with both hands, and thrusts between her cheeks. His cock, slick with his cum, slides over the tender clench of her asshole, rubbing between her cheeks, but not angled to penetrate her.
He releases his grip on her ass and gets to work, sewing and trimming as he furiously works his hips and fucks his cock between her cheeks. The tickling friction of his hot manhood against her anus is actually quite nice. She puts her head down on the workbench and moans submissively. His bollocks press against the tender folds of her cunt. He works fast and thrusts faster.
“Ohh, ass so nice,” he moans. “More firm than tits. Warm and nice! Ohh!”
He croaks with his building pleasure, furiously fucking between her cheeks as he somehow maintains his focus on the work he is doing. Dangling cloth tickles her back. She hears the snips of scissors. Yet it is hard to focus on anything other than his cock, sliding like a sausage between the blushing buns of her bottom. His leaking precum provides more than enough lubrication.
“Seed is coming!” He squawks and suddenly tosses her top onto the workbench beside her. He grips her ass with both hands, pressing her cheeks tight around his cock. She arches and looks back just in time to see his nearly black cockhead jerking. His long tongue hangs from his mouth and his eyes roll back in his head as he thrusts drunk with pleasure. He spurts out a mess of milky goblin spunk over her back and dribbles it between her cheeks. With the last jerk of his cock and the last dribble of his cum, green texts floats into the air.
BUTTOCKS SEX + 500 XP
She hears the familiar trumpet fanfare signaling that she has reached a new level and the green words are replaced by the glowing golden message.
LEVEL 3 REACHED!
She feels the greater vigor of the new level and she knows there will be further rewards. But she is distracted from choosing a new ability by Jebruk, who flops across her back and kisses her shoulders.
“Oh, elf girl,” he moans. “You make old goblin feel alive.”
“Are you finished?” She asks, impatient to see his work done.
“Yes, let me fetch cloth for mess,” he says, hopping down from behind her.
Jebruk begins rummaging in the sewing supplies for something to wipe up the cum he deposited all over her back. While he is off getting a rag to clean her body, she opens her sheet.
Bronwen-of-the-Red-Feather
Race: Wild Elf
Alignment: Good
Class: Warrior
Status: Blood Debt to Gerrik
Level: 3
Experience Points: 2900/6250
Strength:
16
Hit Points: 48/48
Agility:
11
Armor Points: 2/5
Stamina:
12
Intelligence:
10
Willpower:
10
Charisma:
10
Special Abiliti
es
Wild Elf Fury (Ignore Pain or Fear Effects for 60 seconds)
Irresistible Kiss (A persuasive kiss that cannot be refused)
+ CHOOSE A NEW ABILITY
Equipment
Charm of Protection (2)
Damaged Wild Elf Basic Armor (0)
Damaged Legendary Blade of Solana (Inadequate Level)
Sexual Content – YES
Extreme Content - YES
Fertility – YES
She receives another message as she is looking at her sheet.
You have received a new attribute point! Please assign it before continuing!
She knows from the teachings of her tribe that this attribute point, a true boon of the gods, comes only once every nine levels and confers a natural bonus to her abilities. This allows people at very high levels to achieve superhuman strength, agility, and any other attribute. The natural maximum is 18, but there is no maximum with additional points. Higher attributes confer other bonuses, beginning at 12 and continuing every two points.
With her Agility of 11, it makes the most sense for her to round the number up with the free attribute point. This will improve her reflexes, making her better with a bow and arrow, a dagger, and better at feats of agility such as dodging or climbing. She assigns the attribute. She does not feel particularly different, but she has faith it will help her in her journey.
“Here we are,” says Jebruk, distracting her from choosing her new ability. She closes out of the choice before she gets a good look at her options. She can’t think with the old goblin rubbing the cloth between her buttocks and wiping his cum from her lower back. He cleans her very thoroughly, even pouring a bit of water between her cheeks to wash away the last of it.
“Good,” he says, kneading her buttocks and leaning in to inhale her scent. “Only natural elf scent.”
He gives her pussy a lash of his tongue and she jerks upright and pushes him away.
“Alright, Jebruk, you have had your fun,” she warns. “Give me my armor.”
He hands her the loincloth first. It fits a bit snugly, threading between her cheeks and taut against her mound, but it is comfortable and moves well with her. It is much as it was before the orc tore it away from her.
“Yes, good,” says Jebruk, caressing her hips. “Now top.”
She looks at the matching red top. It is an unfortunate surrender to the propriety of the humans to wear such a ridiculous garment. Her proud breasts were meant to be free, not sheathed in this material. She ties the sling around her chest, the fabric slightly stretching to cradle her breasts. She is glad to see her entire midriff is left bare and even her breasts a not shamefully hidden. A deep cleavage between her mounds is visible and her thick nipples poke at the material covering them.
“It’s not what I would choose,” she says, running her hands over her breasts and lightly squeezing them. “But the fit will not interfere with me and it is suitable for human society.”
“Feh, humans!” Jebruk waves dismissively. “Beautiful tits should be bare. Do not trust creature that would hide them.”
“They are nice, are they not?” Laughs Bronwen, hefting her mounds in her hands and nearly causing them to pop free of her new top.
“Ah, yes,” chuckles Jebruk, rubbing at his loincloth. “Is matter of reward.”
“Reward?” She raises an eyebrow. “What was that I did for you while you working?”
“You encourage work,” he yips. “Not reward. Reward for good work. Happy with? Give reward.”
She knows the sort of thing he will desire as his reward. Though she feels no attraction to Jebruk, she is certain the gods will reward her as well. Still, Gerrik is waiting for her downstairs in the tower. She does not like the idea of making her master wait while she pleasures this old perverted goblin. What if Gerrik hears?
“We must be quiet,” she says.
“I be quiet,” promises Jebruk, hopping from foot-to-foot with excitement. “I seed you and give you pups.”
“Ohhhh no,” says Bronwen, holding him at bay again with her hands on his shoulders. “You are not getting that. But I know how to satisfy you with my mouth.”
Jebruk’s rheumy eyes bulge with delight. Bronwen lifts him up onto his workbench so that his scrawny legs hang over the edge. She pulls open his loincloth and faces the stiff finger of his cock. There is no love, no passion to what she does, but she is forceful and skilled, taking him into her warm mouth and sucking diligently.
“Ohhh, feel as if cock melt in warm mouth,” he groans, resting his hands in her silky blonde hair.
She takes him to the back of her mouth and he tries to force his cock deeper, but he is not strong enough to force her head down. He whimpers with disappointment. Bronwen cup his little bollocks and massages them in the palm of her hand as her spit trickles down his shaft and drips from his sack.
“Everything alright up there?” Gerrik calls up the stairs.
“Yes, everything right,” shouts Jebruk. “Almost done. Almost finish!”
“Mmmmmmm,” moans Bronwen, encouraging him as she slurps up and down Jebruk’s maleness.
“That’s it, elf,” he groans, fingers tight in her hair. “You like taste of goblin cum?”
“Mmmhmmmm,” she moans around his cock, looking up at him as she breathes the dank smell of his loins.
“Her comes,” he pants, stiffening between her lips.
His cock pulses quickly, firing his cum into her mouth. It is thin and not very plentiful after all the fun he has already had with her. She allows it to fill her mouth and lubricate her sliding lips. Some drips out of her mouth and spills down his cock in milky trickles. She feels the throbbing of his cock diminish and the tension fade from Jebruk’s muscles. He draws in a ragged sigh and releases his grip on her head.
She lifts her mouth from his cock and her head from his lap, looking up to see the green text that appears before her.
ORAL SEX +800 XP
Her eyes widen at the amount of experience. The gods have blessed her with a large reward for servicing a high level enemy! It is not enough to take her to the next level, but it is a fine reward. She gulps down the watery cum she was holding in her mouth. She wipes her lips on the back of her hand.
“Good reward,” says Jebruk, an amused twinkle in his milky eyes. “Will not tell Gerrik.”
“Thank you,” says Bronwen, rising to her feet. She kisses the little goblin on his forehead and helps him down from the workbench. He ties his loincloth back on.
“Good to show Gerrik now,” says the old goblin, stroking her bottom through her loincloth. “He like new costume.”
She follows the limping old Tinkermage down the steps to the first floor, where they find Gerrik crouched and paging through a book filled to the brim with dirty sketches of human women being ravished by monsters. He slams the book closed with embarrassment and quickly stands.
“Wow!” He exclaims. “You look even more beautiful!”
“You think?” She does a turn to show off her outfit, which is a bit awkward since she has to bend over beneath the piles of junk.
“Yes, it’s the truth,” says Gerrik, taking her hands. “My old friend has quite the eye for playing on the beauty of a beautiful woman.”
Gerrik’s eyes narrow.
“You’re Level 3,” he says. “What did you do?”
“Master,” she leans against him, her breasts in his face as she strokes his shoulders and purrs into his ear, “You told me to do as he said. I had to motivate him to assist me. Do not worry, my handsome goblin king, I did not allow him to take me as you have taken me.”
“You catch good elf,” says Jebruk, rummaging through piles of old gadgets, bottles, specimens, and dried herbs. He turns to them with his scrawny arms laden with items. “For you both. Gifts to aid in your journey.”
He presses spheres of red baked clay into Gerrik’s hands and explains, “Smoke crackers.” He passes three bundles of herbs to Gerrik as well. “And here, tagent root, hallo,
and vipertongue.”
“These will be helpful if I need to brew an anti-venom potion or create another poultice,” says Gerrik. He stuffs the herbs into a small satchel on his belt. “Thank you, Jebruk. You are most generous.”
“And gift for you,” he says to Bronwen, passing her a dusty lavender cloak embroidered with strange symbols on the back and the sides of the hood. Bronwen holds the garment up and it unfurls with a puff of more dust.
“A deep elf cloak,” says Gerrik. “Where did you get that?”
Bronwen tries the cloak on and feels the weight and scratchiness of it against her bare skin. It has a foul smell to it beyond just the mustiness of age.
“Poor elf girl became a zombie,” says Jebruk, eliciting a frown from Bronwen. He explains, “She didn’t need cloak. You take, Bron-wen. Will help at Nokings.”
“Yes, it might,” says Gerrik. “Put the hood up. Let me see.”
Bronwen puts the hood up. She hates the way it feels against her long ears. It shadows her face, although her golden hair hangs out of the hood. She tucks her hair behind her ears and keeps it out of her face.
“Yeah, that’ll work!” Gerrik snaps his fingers. “As long as nobody gets too close, you can pass for a dark elf. Do you have any gloves?”
“Yes, gloves! Here!” Jebruk finds a tattered pair of leather gloves. They are too big for Bronwen, but she is able to fit them over her hands.
“Perfect,” declares Jebruk.
“I hate it,” says Bronwen. “I feel like I am covered in a carpet. It is hot and stifling. And these gloves…”
She flexes her fingers in the thick gloves, the tips of each of the glove’s fingers bending against her palm.
“It’s cold underground,” says Gerrik. “And it is cold in Nokings. You’ll be glad to have it. This will make you less likely to be questioned. The orc, scalefolk, and siminids know to fear a deep elf.”
Blood Debt of the Wild Elf Page 8
