Princess Jern and the Three Goblins

Once ago in the remote northern kingdom of Snjórland, a princess was borne into the reigning royal family, however she was quite unlike any princess raised within that prestigious dynasty as far back as their records began. Born with a crop of striking red hair, doubtlessly inherited from her grandfather King Brons the Bloody, and dubbed Jern, first scion of Stål, the peculiar princess shewed a greater interest in subjects one might not typically associate with a girl of the noble caste. Growing up, Jern preferred taking part in rough sports with the sons of palace servants to attending lessons in social dance with her stuffy tutor, and revelled in sagas involving valiant warriors smiting great evils while only displaying indifference at best for poems of long-lost loves.

Eventually, Jern would even go on to develop a keen interest in the military arts, procuring every book she could find in the castle library even remotely related to the topic and poring over each one from cover to cover at least twice, from weapon techniques to field tactics to records of battles waged abroad. Though this became a source of concern for the red-haired princess' mother that her eldest daughter may have been developing what she perceived as an unhealthy hobby, her father simply hand-waved it off as a passing phase, that is until Jern would request a sword of her very own as her birthday gift for that year. Though taken quite aback by the ask, King Stål would nonetheless honour his eldest's sincere wishes (after much persuasion with his spouse) and commissioned a personalised blade suited for the young princess' proportions from the court blacksmith to present her with on the appointed day, much to her ecstatic delight, however would only allow her to handle such a hazardous implement if she agreed to take the time to be properly instructed in its use personally by her father, who himself was quite the accomplished fighting man in his youth.

And for almost every day thereon, Jern spent at least three hours, often more, in sword practice, and continued to do so even after her ageing father was long since been unable to keep up with his daughter's youthful energy. In that time, the princess also honed her body to compliment her burgeoning skills, performing fifty push-ups, completing fifty squats and jogging fifty laps around the castle courtyard as part of her basic warm-up before each of her drills, and expanded her repertoire to include other weapon types, notably spears and battleaxes, all the while naturally growing at an impressive rate with a rapid series of pubescent stretches that continued until she was about six and a half feet tall by the time of her eighteenth year, exceeding the height of both her parents (believed to have been another trait she inherited from her grandfather), and having to constantly upgrade the dimensions of her equipment throughout her teens as a consequence, much to the chagrin of King Stål's treasurer.

Jern made for a strapping young woman upon her ascension into adulthood: long of limb, with each plus her stomach and back solidly bolstered with firm muscle developed over years of exercise that would have made most soldiers envious, but still retaining fetching features that were a perpetual fixture of her femininity, even if it was partially hidden underneath a layer of sweat and dirt throughout most of the day. Her characteristic red hair was always kept cut very short to her skull, a decision made early on in her practices after she found her longer tresses to be too distracting in the midst of her intense routines even when tied back, as well as influenced by hearing tell of fighters meeting their untimely end after an enemy caught them by their flowing locks during the frenzy of battle.

With age comes ambition, and Jern, who now considered herself to be a more-than-capable fighter in her own right, yearned to explore the rest of the land that she would one day inherit the right to rule over and test her mettle in true bouts of skill and strength just as those heroes whom she so idolised had done before her after having grown so very weary of besting members of the local regiment in countless spars, but the extent of her unfettered exploration without an armed retinue acting as an escort was strictly restricted to the perimeters of the kingdom's capital (with perhaps the exception being its infamous Monster District, where the majority of non-human residents resided), and she knew her position and parents all too well (her mother especially) that a princess like herself would not be permitted to freely set out into the rest of Snjórland unattended, if at all, on a journey possessing even just an element of peril (or 'excitement', as Jern preferred to call it) should she entreat the King and Queen upfront about considering otherwise.

It is easier to ask forgiveness than permission, as they say, and Jern decided to steal away from the palace and capital in the dead of the very night of her eighteenth birthday carrying little else but a pocketful of gold coins, the armour on her back and a freshly-whetted sword on her hip to venture forth into the wider world with, meeting disappointingly meagre resistance by the time she reached the city limits, but nevertheless exhilarated once she passed through the gates, uncaring to how furious her father would not doubt be once he found her missing come the morrow.

It had been some weeks since then that Jern had been out on the road, always remaining one step ahead of the search parties King Stål sent out to scour the country in an attempt to retrieve her, a fact which brought her no shortage of mirth each and every time she eluded their efforts. With no particular destination in mind, and indeed not even with a map or compass in hand to help guide her, the impetuous princess passed through many villages and small towns where their ordinary commoners were none the wiser as to her noble identity, challenging any and all therein who boasted even a modicum of martial ability, and subsequently defeating each and every one in single combat, some being as effortless to overpower as an infant while others proved to be close to an equal match for the aspiring heroine. Spontaneous duels were not all that Jern involved herself in during her wanders however, as she also took the time to right more than a fair share of wrongs where she believed her expertise could be of use, asking only for food and shelter as reward where she needed it, whether it be as minor as helping bounce a couple of drunkards being just a tad too rowdy for a tavernkeep's liking, to more dangerous endeavours like the slaying of a pack of timberwolves who had been making off with a farmer's livestock in the wee hours of the morning.

One day, Jern found herself passing through a humble hamlet known as Ósterklig, and while she was occupied quenching her thirst down at the local pub with a frothy pint of beer bought with her last few remaining copper pieces, she quickly came to learn the community was currently experiencing harassment from a small gang of slippery goblins who had been sneaking into the village every night for the past week or so and purloining various possessions from its residents, from a couple of coin purses here to entire sackfuls of food there, before safely retreating back to wherever their refuge was based faster than the first light of dawn could glimmer over the horizon. The princess was prompt to promise Ósterklig's authorities that she would apprehend these evasive rogues in exchange for a minor monetary recompense, even though she had yet to personally encounter a goblin herself and was unfamiliar with the typical tricks their kind employed, only knowing them to be a race of small folk who were not particularly renowned for their physical brawn, though with keen cunning and nimbleness, and almost always possessing a mischievous streak.

Not a day after she made her claim, Jern believed she was successful in tracking the ne'er-do-wells down to a cave halfway up a large hill about a mile out from the village's borders, and was confident enough that she alone was capable in capturing what she estimated to be no more than five individuals at the absolute most who belonged to this thieving band without much trouble that she did not require to spend needless time returning to Ósterklig and back for redundant reinforcements. Lighting a torch with a tinderbox to illume her way, Jern fearlessly delved into the cold, gloomy cavern as dark as pitch in stark juxtapose to the warm, early afternoon when she had discovered its entrance. Although the stone tunnel was long and winding as it descended steadily downwards deep into the hill, it remained mercifully unbranching save for the occasional minor recess in its walls.

Just as the princess was wondering how much further she would have to walk before she reached the extensive cave's end where the only sounds to be heard within were her own footfalls against the uneven floor and the soft crackling of her burning torch, starting to suspect she may have been incorrect in her supposition that it held the hideout at all, her boot pressed down upon a section of ground softer than what she tread over up till that point, but by the time she had realised this, it was already too late, for the floor would abruptly and utterly give way underneath her weight and the next thing Jern knew, she was plummeting down a drop so sheer, it felt as though her heart had leapt into her throat on her way to the floor, and then...blackness.

The next thing Jern could remember was blinking her bleary brown eyes open to consciousness once again, feeling as though she was sitting slumped against a wall with the back of her skull now throbbing with pain. She made a low groan in response and naturally went to sooth the sore spot with a rub of her hand...only to discover that she was hardly able to move her arm in the slightest! Instantly alarmed by this, Jern snapped her sight in the direction of her immobilised appendage just as her vision had fully refocused to see that her right wrist was now securely clamped within an iron shackle directly bolted into the cavern wall, and looking to her opposite side would reveal her left was likewise restrained. The princess' first instinct was to struggle in her unforeseen confinement, clenching both fists and teeth as she desperately strained against the gyves, eyes scrunched shut and grunting aloud until the muscles in her arms ached, but for all her mighty brawn, even she was not able to break herself free from such bonds through force alone, letting out a defeated sigh upon realising the effort was futile as her head drooped into her chest with discouragement.

"Oi, oi! Check out who's finally up, lads!" A voice which did not belong to the red-haired wayfarer then exclaimed aloud soon following this, prompting the princess to lift her face once more and take a proper scan of the dimly lit chamber she now found herself in to see who it was who had just spoken. In the very centre of the space, directly across from where she sat manacled, were three individuals sat upon stools around a low, circular table, each of them possessing skin vividly green in pigment and noticeably pointed ears, with none of them being of a height exceeding four feet. Although it was her first time seeing examples in the flesh, Jern had no doubts that this trio were the goblins she had been seeking out, though it would seem they were the ones who had found her first, given the current set of circumstances.

"What's yer game then, eh? Skulkin' through other folk's homes all rat-like as ya were. Absolute disgrace, so it is!" The centremost of the goblins, the one whom that earlier voice belonged to, now addressed Jern directly. The irony was not lost on the princess. "Got everythin' that was comin' t' ya tumblin' int' that pitfall, if ya ask me!"

"See, Nik? Ya see? Told ya diggin' that out woulda been worth th' effort, didn' I? Saved us gettin' our heads lopped off!" The slightly shorter goblin sitting on the right interposed with what sounded like an exuberant boast in a shrill pitch of voice, banging the flats of his hands against the table and bouncing in his seat as if he were unable to contain his excitement, though quickly became far less animated when the only response he was met with was a slap to the skull in response from the one evidently named Nik.

A pitfall! So that was what princess had fallen into. Not only that, but she must have had the misfortune of taking a substantial blow to her bonce against some rocks upon landing which knocked her completely out cold until as of a moment ago, accounting for the aching that she currently felt in her pate. The clamour her armour would have created from the impact would have no doubt alerted any within earshot - id est the three goblins - to her intrusion, after which they must have hauled her unconscious frame down the remainder of the tunnel before clapping her in irons as she found herself now.

"Alright, alright, joke's over, boys. You've made your point." Jern said. "I apologise for trespassing in this lovely...er...hole of yours. I'll be a touch more mindful in the future, swear on my honour, so how about unlocking these clasps and letting me go on my merry way now, aye?"

"So ya can whack each a' us th' second those shackles come undone? Not fuckin' likely!" Nik scoffed.

"Well, you can hardly blame me for at least trying, can you?" Jern made a wry chuckle, though in truth was beyond exasperated with her problematic state of affairs, internally cursing her cockiness for falling into such a rudimentary trap set by a two-bit trio she could have otherwise easily trounced if not for her binds. As the princess racked her brains thinking of a possible solution out of her current predicament, she took a closer scan of her captors and the dingy den they inhabited.

As mentioned before, the burglars were sat in the centre at a table, sharing a loaf of bread, each outfitted in baggy rags constituting a simple vest and pair of short trousers, with none of them wearing any kind of footwear and it seemed they had gone without for a long time judging by how visibly black their undersoles were. From tales told by her father, the princess imagined goblinoids to have been a universally ugly people to match the crookedness in their souls, however in this trio's case at least, they appeared to be fairly far from those claims, at least in the former aspect: the diminutive creatures appeared to be close to her own age, or at least the equivalent thereof for their kind, with each having heads overall roundish in shape topped with unruly moptops of bluish-black hair at varying lengths, large eyes of matching hue and small noses which tapered into a sharp point. Jern may have even been so inclined to claim they were quite cute for non-humans beneath the film of grime coating their countenances had she not been so vexed with how they were treating her. These shared characteristics also gave Jern the impression that these three were related by blood, likely brothers.

On one side of the chamber, wooden crates and burlap bags were collected amongst some loose gold coins, a few articles of pretty jewelry and clothing too large to have fit the goblins, presumably the accumulation of their unlawfully acquired goods. On the opposite side, a brazier burned to provide a dim light and some warmth to the space, and surrounded a set of three small beige bedrolls unfurled on the floor. In a far corner, Jern was also just barely able to perceive a haphazard heap of miscellaneous items, and squinting her eyes was able to discern a sword, a breastplate and a pair of boots atop a pile of both over and underclothes, all of which seemed oddly familiar to the princess before she registered a second later that it was her sword, breastplate, boots, and over and underclothing which she was looking at! Jern made a single blink of bewilderment before she looked down at herself properly for the first time since reawakening, and let out an appalled exclamation by what she saw: her own naked body.

"You perverted bastards! You undressed me in my sleep!" Jern roared, her white face turning red from a mix of anger and shame, restarting her struggling all over again, and this time with greater inflamed flailing.

"Tad slow on th' uptake there, sister." The slightly taller of the goblins sitting on the left remarked in a deeper drawl compared to his two fellows.

"The whole lot of you are dead as soon as I get free, so Tyr help me!" The red-haired princess growled after she had quickly exhausted her initial ire between deep breaths of spent zeal, an undercurrent of utter contempt still in her tone, as she drew her legs inwards and close together to hide at least her womanhood from plain view to the felons. "You better have not tried anything weird while I was out of it..."

"Now what kinda sickos do ya take us for, eh?...we was waitin' 'till ya woke up 'fore we had our jollies with ya~ It's a lot more fun when we can see their reactions." Nik let out a dirty laugh as he stood up from his seat and leisurely made his way closer towards Jern. "Bad girls deserve bad things t' happen t' 'em, doncha agree?" He added, grinning toothily while gripping at the crotch of his slacks.

Despite him being of a much lesser stature, the warrior-princess bereft of armaments and clothing could not help but shrink into the very wall she was cuffed powerlessly against from hearing the goblin's words and observing his crude gestures as he steadily advanced upon her, a certain sort of dread she did not often feel starting well up within her from speculating the sort of vulgar transgressions he planned to commit against her will, but all the same was prepared to not let him have his way with her so freely with her without putting up some sort of resistance. Her arms may have been manacled, but her long legs were still free to deliver solid kicks the very moment he came within range.

However, Nik halted just short from where Jern would have been able to reach him with her feet before he reached into his britches to pull out an uncircumcised member grossly disproportionate to what the princess would have otherwise expected from a creature of such small size that would have made even most human men envious with its dimensions, making her hazel eyes involuntarily widen with surprise when she laid sight upon it, if only just from how completely he was able to conceal such a sizeable semi-erection within the confines of his trousers without her notice. The half-mast shaft resembled a juicy cucumber some seven inches in length, perhaps closer to eight, tipped with a darker-shaded olive glans partially peeking out from the foreskin that added an extra few centimetres, with a tangled bush of curly pubic hairs at its base and a pair of hefty testicles the size of limes dangling beneath.

"I'm gonna enjoy this~!" The goblin remarked before gripping his girth in one hand and steadily stroked away whilst staring intently at the princess' naked form, his manhood fully stiffening within only a few seconds of him starting. Needless to say, Jern felt incredibly uncomfortable by all this, and only grew more discomfited when the remaining two non-humans joined their fellow, standing on either side of who the redhead perceived to be the leader in this little band before dropping their bottoms to start pumping away at their own penises of likewise length and thickness at asynchronous rates as they leered lecherously at the young lady with wicked smiles across their faces.

Never before had Jern ever felt so humiliated than she did at this precise moment: captured without a confrontation, denuded without her knowledge, shackled with no foreseeable escape, and now, it seemed, about to be made a communal sex aid for three overly amorous goblins against her consent. At the same time however, the princess was unable to bring herself to completely avert her own outward gazing purely out of a morbid fascination for how bold these goblin boys were to stand so unabashed before her and openly pleasure themselves at her expense on top of every other offence they had committed, pondering if they would have acted any differently in the slightest if they were aware that she was, in fact, royalty.