Goblin Queen's Plan

Caveat: My fantasy races may not be exactly the same as what you're used to. Please don't hold that against me.

~~~

Prologue

"This next piece of meat isn't much to look at but he's a healer", the big goblin barked out, "tested him myself. Everyone can use a healer - even an ugly one. Bidding starts at 100 gold."

Half the bidders ignored me because I wasn't a fighter or a laborer. Just as many others held onto their gold because they didn't want a half-breed. Especially an elf; goblins and orcs hate elves. My ears and my eyes gave away my lineage. Most just ignored me but a few scowled at me.

My father (whoever he was) had slept with one of his human servants. She got pregnant. He sent her away, hoping to hide his shame. My magical abilities came from his blood.

My mother could not tell me his name. My father had placed a barrier in her mind that prevented her from remembering his identity. That magical block would remain in place until he died. Given the length of Elven lives, my mother would - most assuredly - be long dead before that spell failed.

My mother cleaned houses and did laundry to earn money. Men with wives, obviously, did not need such services. One of the men my mother cleaned for decided he wanted more - another service from her. She refused. He beat her and dumped her dying body in front of our home. My mother took her last breath before I returned from working at the healing house.

That night, under cover of darkness, I went to his home, tied him to his bed as he slept, and laid my hands on him. My hands healed every day. I was good at it. That night, I perverted the gift my father's blood had given me. I used my abilities to harm instead of help.

My mother's murderer awoke as soon as I sealed his lips together. He began hyperventilating - which only made it easier for me to kill him. I waited until the fear of death filled his eyes, his body gasping for air, and then I sealed off one of his nostrils. The remaining one flared and his chest convulsed as he tried (and failed) to get air into his body. I waited - and watched - monitoring his vitals - until the lack of oxygen caused him to pass out. His breathing slowed then. He might have lived - had I not sealed off the other nostril. I stood there a long time - staring into his wide unseeing eyes - until the body began to chill.

I undid my work, hoping to leave a mystery for the investigators. My plan might have succeeded - if they hadn't come - at that very moment - to question the man about my mother's death.

Knowing there was no answer I could give that would appease their questions, I fled.

It was possible that I would have been exonerated for avenging her - but - when the man was dead without a trace upon his body - they would know that I somehow used magic to kill him. I would lose my job at the least. Healing was the only skill I had. It was the only way I knew how to make money.

These were the thoughts that tumbled through my head as I ran from my victim's house, eluding the authorities. I climbed onto a shed, and up a drain-pipe. I leapt from a roof, to the city wall, jumping to the ground below, and escaped into the woods in the early morning hours of a moonless night.

I could see well enough at night in the woods - another gift from my father - but I was ill-equipped (or dressed) to fight anyone (or anything) that might find me. I headed back to the road, jogging for as long as my legs would carry me, before hiding under the boughs of a tired pine (a tree whose branches grow so thick and hang so low that they touch the ground), and sleeping until I could run again.

I kept on for days, foraging for enough food and water to sustain me, until I passed into the next kingdom. I found a healing house, hired on, and worked, sleeping in the woodshed behind it, until I had enough money to buy a cloak, a canteen, and a pack - then I moved on once more.

I had left the main road two days earlier, venturing north. The dusty track had shrunk from one large enough for two wagons to pass - to a lane barely large enough for one. The surface was cracked and slightly rutted. I had just found a small village - where I thought I could live my days unmolested - when it was overrun by goblins and everyone was taken captive.

Now I was being sold.

Zora

The auctioneer had asked me about my class. I shrugged sullenly. He warned me that classless captives were sold for food - not for their skills. I immediately confessed my ability to heal. He made me prove it, of course. He used me to heal several of the injured captives - thereby (no doubt) increasing the profit he would receive from selling them.

In the end, I was sold for 100 gold coins. The warriors, mages, and archers in front of me sold for almost half - so I guess I should have been happy that I went for as much as I did.

Anybody who didn't have a class went for silvers - instead of gold. According to what the auctioneer had told me, their next meal would, likely, be their last - and they would be the guest of honor.

Some of the prisoners were still bleeding from the wounds they'd taken while being captured. I would have tried to heal them, without being noticed by the guards, but my hands were manacled behind my neck - secured by chains to the iron collar I wore. I'd finally interlaced my fingers just to keep from chafing my wrists against the unforgiving cuffs.

The leg-irons were made to hold someone twice my size. I could barely walk with them on. I tried to avoid moving or swaying. I wouldn't have been able to catch myself if I fell and I'd likely bust my head open on the rough planking that covered the surface of the platform the captured prisoners were made to stand on while they (we) were sold.

Since my purchase-price had been so much higher than average, I hoped that meant I wouldn't be boiled (likely, alive) and eaten. One or two goblin brats had gotten close enough to sniff at me but the slave-market guards had run them off before they could get a taste. I hadn't been able to see who had finally bought me.

The goblin female that appeared at the pay-clerk's desk when I was brought forward was taller than average, didn't smell as bad as most goblins (although I admit that I was more often around males than females), and seemed moderately intelligent.

She had a full head of thick, wavy, well-kept hair that fell to her shoulders. Her hair was such a dark green that it was almost black. Her green eyes were luminous - but cautious. She quickly but carefully studied all those who came near. She was almost as tall as me - taller than most of the other goblin females I had seen. She was dressed for travel and held herself in a way that said she knew how to take care of herself. Her little button nose made her face almost cute. Goblins' lips aren't as full as humans but her mouth was ... nice. The earring in her left ear looked like an expensive heirloom. She wore no gaudy jewels, but her clothes, belt pouch, and shoulder pack were all well-made, if dusty.

She had a bow and a quiver over her shoulder. On her belt was a blade that looked well-used but also well-maintained. Her left arm was fitted with an arm-guard and shows signs of obvious use. Her boots came up to mid-calf. Her skirt went halfway to her knees. Her legs were strong, thin, and flawless - like every other part of her body that I could see.

Once she'd paid for me, we stepped out of line. The guard waited to remove my restraints until she was ready to take ownership of her merchandise. When I saw the coil of rope she intended to bind me with, I thought maybe I'd be able to escape when the right moment came.

Whoever this goblin was, she was good with knots. In minutes, the harsh metal collar, cuffs, and leg-irons had been removed. However, I was hobbled at the knees - and the leash she fashioned to control me left me with no doubt that she could have me on the ground, begging for air, in seconds.

In spite of myself, my cock hardened as she grabbed the back of the waistband of my tattered pants and used that to guide me through the throng of creatures that were gathered to watch the rest of the auction.

When we were away from the crowds and the noise, she stepped to the side of the street and stood in front of me. "Behave and we will get along just fine, you and me. If you try to run, I will catch you and I will cut off your feet. I do not need them. If you try to attack, I will cut off your hand first - and then your arms - one section at a time. I do not need those either. Do you understand me?"

I nodded.

"You will address me as 'My queen'. You will answer, 'Yes, my queen' or 'No, my queen'. Do you understand me?"

I nodded.

In the blink of an eye, she pulled out a dagger, and stabbed the tip into my ribs and held it there. When I opened my mouth to complain, her hand shot within, grabbed my tongue, and pulled it as far from my jaw as it would reach. She looked into my eyes, held the dagger up - showing what she intended to do - and asked again. "Do you understand me?"

My words were barely comprehensible but I quickly said, "Yes, my queen."

Her blade disappeared and she released my tongue. She stepped back to my side, grasped me by the waistband once again, and we stepped back into the street.

My tongue ached from being pinched and stretched but I kept my mouth shut.

We passed through the city gate. If the guards turned to look at us, I did not see them. I was staring straight ahead.

When we had walked about a half-mile down the dusty road, she spoke, never turning to look at me, and not slowing her steps.

"I apologize for treating you roughly but I wanted to be sure you understood me clearly. I intend you no harm but I cannot allow you to question my commands anytime other goblins are around. For this reason, you must be trained to do exactly as I say. This protects both of us."

She had not asked me a question but as the silence dragged on, I felt the need to speak. "Yes, My queen."

"I will endeavor to never put you in a position where you have a reason to tell me 'no'. If you have concerns about what I ask you and think 'no' might not be an acceptable answer, you may simply ask 'My queen?' I will either restate my question or, when possible, move us to somewhere where we can converse privately."

"Yes, my queen."

"If you have a question and others are around, either catch my eye and wait - or ask, 'My queen?' - but don't put me in a bad position. I will avoid hurting or harming you but trust me when I say that I will save myself before you - and there are strict societal rules I must follow. It would be best to wait until we're alone to ask most things."

"Yes, my queen."

She looked down at my side and asked, "Does that wound need to be healed?"

"No, my queen."

Noticing my tented pants, she asked, "Is my hand on your body what is causing your cock to harden?"

"Yes, my queen."

"Good. Things should work out just fine then."

As we traveled, she would not talk if anyone on the road was near enough to see us or hear us. She waited until they had moved on. She was intimately aware of her surroundings, using all of her senses - and maybe a sense that I didn't know about - to keep track of who (and what) was where.

We walked for an hour before we came to another small goblin town. We passed through quickly. Other than a dirty urchin begging for bread, we were unmolested. A few rugged males looked at my owner but, apparently deciding she looked capable with her knife and bow, they left us alone.

We had traveled for several more miles before there was a narrower road to the right. Almost as soon as we left the main road, this way (little more than a footpath actually) began to climb. We crested a hillock to start into the foot-hills. Soon, we were treading along steeper paths into a small range of mountains.

We followed this footpath for another mile or two until we came to a stream and a small bridge. She brought me to a stop at the edge of the stream, just to the right of the path.

"I would untie you but we may still meet a few travelers. For now, I will get your drink for you. We still have some ways yet to travel before we will enter my domain."

She pulled a tin cup from her pack, filled it, and tasted the water. Nodding, she gave me a drink - refilling the cup when I'd emptied it. Once I'd had my fill, she got a drink for herself. It was of great comfort to my mind that she gave me a drink first - and that, before doing so, she'd proven it was safe to drink. I knew that was intentional. This female - this woman - my "queen" - was not stupid. So far, everything she'd done had a purpose. Every instruction she had given me was designed to ensure that I understood things clearly and didn't create bad situations for myself - or for her - which, again, created a bad situation for me. She was intentionally giving me knowledge to control my path, despite the fact that I was physically under her control.

She pulled out a small, tin canteen, emptied the contents into the grass, and refilled it from the stream - placing it back into her pack. We continued on our way.

At last we left the footpath and followed a game trail. We passed around a ridge and lost sight of the traveled paths. When we came to the mouth of a cave, she looked at me and asked, "How well do you see in the dark?"

"Twice as good as most men," I replied. I quickly added, "My queen."

"That doesn't help me much. I'm going to untie you so that you can climb easier. Do not attempt to escape me.

"Yes, my queen."

"You will follow me as long as you can see. If you cannot see, I will lead you - but the path is treacherous - it would be better if we are able to move independently. You look fairly sure-footed. I am hopeful we can use this passage without incident. The other path is much longer."

"Yes, my queen."

She untied my knees first, removing the hobble that kept me from running away. For a moment, I thought about the chances I'd have of escaping. Honestly, though, she was treating me well, all things considered. If she was to be believed, she intended to do her best to keep me alive and in good health - and - well - that was (honestly) better than I had been doing for myself of late. I decided that I was in this at least long enough for her to reveal her ultimate plans for me.

Within minutes, she had removed the rope harness completely. I stretched my arms and neck. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, trying to get the numbness and stiffness to leave. I added a bit of healing and the process went quicker. I laid my right palm on the knife wound and healed it. When I was done, I looked at her, awaiting instructions.

She was tall for a goblin and I was short for a half-elf - so she was only a few inches shorter than me. She looked into my eyes, smiled, and said, "Most of my plans call for you to breed me and my nestlings as often as possible. Is that going to be a problem for you?"

She had asked about my hard-on before but this was a mild escalation, to say the least. She began disrobing. I stood, gaping.

I admit I haven't seen many goblins naked in my lifetime (maybe none) but she was far better looking than I had expected - both above and below the neck. My prick (which hadn't seen the inside of a cunt - any cunt - in quite some time) began to salute my queen.

Her smile became almost predatory. The hungry feralness of it sent blood rushing to my dick and I was immediately hard. She knelt before me, untied the cord that served as my belt, and dropped my trousers. My prick sprang up at her. She set upon it immediately. I moaned in anticipation. Her right hand pulled back the foreskin, her left hand cupped my balls, and her mouth enveloped the head of my sex.

"Fuck!" I gasped.

She pulled her mouth off with a pop, smiled up at me, and said, "In a minute ... my king."

I might have asked about the new moniker she had just bestowed on me - if my brain hadn't been wiped clear of any ability to form a cohesive thought, by her mouth sucking my fuck-stick inside her face - and down her throat. I was buried to the hilt within her mouth and she sucked greedily, milking my cock - priming the pump.

I cried out in anguish as she pulled off of me. My burgeoning climax evaporated into thin air.

"Patience, my king," she said, chuckling at my despondency. "Lie down and we'll see if we can make this fit."

She pressed her lips to mine and pushed me onto my back. She straddled my hips and lowered her body until the snug entrance to her secret place pressed down upon the head of my ravenous prick.

"My queen!" I gasped, as she pressed her forehead to mine, staring into my eyes. Her intentions were clear and her hesitation had me as tense as a snare's pin - ready to go off with the slightest touch.

She growled like a cat in heat as she allowed more and more of her weight to settle onto my stiff cock.

A moan escaped her lips as her hips slowly wriggled, working my cock-head against the ring of her tight entrance. She seemed intoxicated by the glorious tension of my obvious need pressing against her own. I was in splendid agony. I dared not move.

She cursed in her birth-tongue as the crown of my flesh-sword finally pierced her. Her curses turned to shrill keening a moment later. My cock was almost too large for her. Her eyes fluttered. She held a wicked smile - as if the pain was delicious - something to be relished and appreciated. At the same time, it seemed to awaken a blazing desire within her. She wanted more; needed more.

As much as she wanted to drop onto my body and be filled with my prick in an instant, she savored the heady rush of slowly introducing the stimulation of my intrusion to each individual muscle along the path from her vulva to her cervix.

~~~ Zora ~~~

Gods below, he was massive!

I looked into his eyes. Those eyes! His lust was obvious. He was growing impatient with me as I slowly shoved his meaty rod deeper and deeper into my aching cunt.

My vagina was complaining. It had never had anything that large shoved inside of it before. The pain was delightful.

His eyes - the windows to his soul - showed that he wanted my body almost as much as I wanted his. Behind that lust was a deep swirl of emotions: concern, passion, love?, solidity, desire, strength.

Oh, thank the Gods! I'd spent nearly every coin I had - and still barely got him.

My slave, my mate, and - hopefully - my savior.

I didn't need a fighter. I didn't go to the meat-market for a laborer. I needed a strong, virile male I could use to birth a nest. If things went well, that nest would grow into a fighting force I could use to reclaim what had been taken from me.

I didn't go to that auction to buy a champion. I went to buy a man to breed my females and give me the army I needed for my self-appointed mission. The fact that I'd been able to afford a healer was nothing less than a gift from the Gods. They had, at long last, heard my prayers. I had been grievously wronged but my time would come.

This healer - this man-mutt - despised as a half-breed - would be able to keep him, me, my drones, and my warriors healthy and strong. Every child we carried and delivered would be strong and healthy.

The auctioneer had called him ugly. He was no goblin, to be sure, but he wasn't ugly. Goblins despise men and elves; mutts were fair game for abuses of any kind. It was the only way I'd been able to buy a healer. When I had seen this healthy male that no other buyer would truly want, I knew it was a chance beyond my wildest dream.

His race wouldn't matter when it came to breeding. The male's seed is only a catalyst - used by the goblin female's egg - to grow a goblin child. I could've bought a troll and still have used him for my purposes.