The Goblin Husbandry Project Pt. 07

She grabbed up Lappy's hands and shook vigorously with a drowsy smile plastered across her face. "Hiya, I'm Betsy," she said slowly, with lots of pronunciation. "Aren't you just the cutest little thing. You'll love it here, Mister's real nice and we'll fatten you right up, don't you worry."

Lappy hardly realized Stewart had left when the door swung closed with a surprising bang behind him that made her flinch.

"Don't you worry about that, neither," Betsy said. "He can be a real sourpuss, but he's got a lot on his plate after all, what with what we ask for." She clenched a hand around Lappy's wrist which made her think that all tall people just dragged shorter ones around whenever they wanted, and pulled her into the midst of the cushions where most of the other wives resided. "Now, then, We've got Molly over there, Sanida over here, Yuriel over there in the corner," Betsy went through all the names of the wives, though most of them were going back to the apparently exhausting work of lounging while being attended to hand and foot, "Ah, and who can forget Ophelia?"

The woman in question was a translucently pale, starved-looking one lying on her chest in a nest of pillows nearby. A small grin flashed dangerous, sharp fangs.

Lappy looked around despite being pulled in and enveloped within Betsy's heavy tits, a sensation she wished she were in the right circumstance to enjoy freely. Although there was no end to the variety presented by the lovely, female flesh all around, it was clear what sort of harem Lappy had been sold into. "There aren't any humans," she said.

"Hmm? Of course not, silly~" Betsy hung onto the goblin like a favorite doll. "Mister says human girls are boring. Why, he hardly ever has one of us brought to his room more than one night in a row, since he's such a picky eater. But hey, aren't you nice for a gobbo, we didn't know what to expect."

Ophelia, whatever she was, yawned and turned over to her back, arched over her pile of pillows such that her puffy, pale nipples were displayed to the room along with the near-silent sound of her long, black hair falling over her shoulder. "Make sure you aren't too nice, girl," she said as though her advice was gospel. "The master of the house believes it is by his grace and moreover his penis that monsters such as us are given unto the light of civilization. Ah, but that may be too complicated for one such as you... feel free to nibble, if you like."

"You're the one who likes nibbling, though," Betsy said, giggling.

"Hm," Ophelia said, a smile slowly creeping across her painted, black lips with more flashes of sharp tooth. "In fact, I like to suck."

There was the sound of splashing as one of the other wives approached, coming out of a tank of clear water in the back of the room and wrapping herself with a towel provided by one of the human servants. She was colorful, lines of blacks and reds patterned down the length of her body on fine, soft scales. Her eyes were black as pitch and her hair continued the pattern, through it was shorn boyishly short. She extended a webbed hand for a very cold, brief shake with Lappy. "Kavi," she said, and rushed back to her tank, throwing aside the towel (no nipples on her slender frame, Lappy noticed) and jumping in again.

Betsy said, "As she said, that's Kavi. Don't mind her, she has to stay in there as much as she can until she's done with her time of the month."

"The master doesn't give you all rags?" Lappy asked to a ripple of laughter through the nearby women.

Afterward Betsy leaned in to whisper, "Kavi has to lay her eggs, is the thing... Mister says he really likes them."

Considering what little she knew about fish eggs, Lappy looked back at Kavi hanging over the rim of the tank, looked to the side where one of their servants waited with a fine-mesh bag on a rod... and she gagged a little.

Only Ophelia noticed. "It's as you think, goblin. Do not tell Kavi, however, she's from the ocean and has no idea that it is wrong. And I'm the last one to judge, considering what I eat."

"What's that?" Lappy asked.

"Have you never seen a vampire?"

Betsy took Lappy to one corner, the very thing she always seemed to occupy these days, and hummed a song while idly braiding Lappy's hair.

In a full day of travel, Lappy realized that she hadn't gone anywhere at all. The women here lounged because there was nothing else to do, served by dull-faced men and waiting for the time when their master, their husband, would call on them. Betsy, flitting the time away with a menial task, was no different to the goblins back under the brewery who would sit together and groom each other for hours on end just to pass the time between sessions with their clients. And Ophelia, for one of a type of creature even Lappy knew for their capacity for violence, was merely twisting about on the pillows in an attempt to find the perfectly comfortable angle instead of escaping and sacking the place for the outrage of trying to tame her.

Then... whatever the plan was to "train" Palla... if it left her more of a husk than she already was, she might very well break entirely before becoming a benign member of the harem.

Lappy waited until one of the servants was no longer in earshot and said, "Betsy, who are these guys? Isn't the master afraid they'll use you?"

"Use...?" Betsy realized and broke into laughter that obliterated Lappy's attempt to be sneaky. "Of course not, all of these ones are eunuchs."

Then Lappy learned what a eunuch was and receded into the back of her own mind to protect it from the knowledge. The master was willing to go that far, and that only made Lappy worry more for Palla's fate.

--

It was evening when Stewart showed his face again and took Lappy from her comfortable place between Betsy's gigantic breasts. He brought her into the mansion, through to a small dressing room, and handed her some costume without a word of explanation.

She stood there with oddly soft and light shackles in her hands and waited for said explanation to be forthcoming.

"The master would like to emulate a certain experience for tonight's show," Stewart said as though that was enough. "Take off the dress and get those around your wrists and ankles. They're only a type of foam painted to look like steel, so they should be perfectly comfortable."

"Am I a wife or a slave?" she asked.

"You're cheekier than I thought, is what you are. The master does not quibble with such distinctions, you are his property and he chooses to call you a wife, so you are. Put on the costume, or will we need to get the real version?" He sighed and looked to a closet in the corner with a thick lock, likely filled with all sorts of unwholesome toys.

Reluctantly, Lappy let her dress fall from her shoulders and fitted the fake shackles on. At least this time she could be sure that her presence was saving Palla from an actual abuse, since she knew the girl wouldn't be obedient enough to wear these things and play this role. No doubt Palla would force them to drag her out in actual chains. At least they were more or less comfortable, fake chains of the same material dangling from them which Stewart picked up.

"Good girl," he said. "Much better than that piece of filth they pawned off on us along with you. To think they thought you were the add-on making the deal sweeter and that rabid thing was the actual item on sale."

She bit her tongue because she could not bite his. You're the trash, expecting anything at all from that frightened girl!

Then he rapped at one of the side doors and the creature that had been waiting on the other side bent down so he could fit his head under the door frame. There was hardly a foot between the ceiling of this small room and the top of his dark green head, and his bigness made it feel all the smaller for how far into the space he needed to be to come fully inside.

"This is Grog, your partner for the night," Stewart said on his way out before Lappy could get a word in edgewise.

The creature, Grog, bent double and onto his knees but he was still feet taller than Lappy, only a head shorter than Stewart had been. He was dressed in nothing but a ragged loincloth and his manhood showed clearly through it with its massive outline, even though it was entirely flaccid. Through a tusked mouth his deep voice boomed in the little room.

"Hello," he said.

Lappy stopped herself from reeling back in terror, not hard when something deep in her bloodline was freezing her in hopes this thing wouldn't notice her against the forest floor that wasn't here. As little as the denizens of her warren had spoken for any reason, there were still stories of this creature and its cruelty. She had no comparison to make back then, she'd only known of it as a thing to be avoided if possible or supplicate to if not. It was her natural state to be on the floor before this thing, on her hands and knees, touching her face to the ground; there, she almost expected to feel his foot on the back of her head to grind her into the dirt from which she was borne.

Ork.

"Are you alright?" he said from above. She didn't feel his foot, but his hands gently taking her shoulders with only enough room for a couple fingers on each and lifting her up. Despite the tusks, the strong jaw, the beady eyes, that was a kindly smile, wasn't it? "Please do not worry. Most of them are afraid of me at first, but trust that I don't mean you any harm."

Lappy felt ashamed. She was a monster as well, wasn't she? She fought through her fear to say with a shaky voice, "Are you the master?"

His laughter boomed against the close walls. "Oh, no. That man doesn't 'degrade himself' by lying with monsters, he uses me. Well, me and the other boys. I think he's using me tonight because of the green skin connection between us. Are you doing alright, you're shaking?"

"I'm afraid..." she admitted.

Grog nodded with solemn respect. "I understand. You have my oath that I will try to make this hurt as little as possible, but the master does demand that we make a show of it. If you would let me dress you?"

Her wonder lasted all of a second before he reached into the darkness of a wardrobe and drew out the much smaller, female version of the rags he wore. "No," she said. "I'll do it myself."

"As you wish."

It felt scratchy. Lappy could still make out the label of the potato sack that had been mangled to make this costume against her crotch.

"You are a slave, too, aren't you?" she said.

"Yes, but not without reason," Grog said. "My war band was beaten in fair combat by a single hero of humanity. It is only right that he decide my fate when I lay down my arms rather than be put to death with the others. My bindings are a result of my own cowardice, so I must bear them. Until the master found me, I had been used as a beast of burden... that was better."

Curiosity won over fear for a moment and she said, "Can I touch it?" Her hand hovered near the flap of his loincloth; she felt the heat of his manhood like sitting in front of a furnace.

"Please yourself."

She merely had to sweep the flap out of the way and Grog was as good as nude. His cock hung before her, as long as but thicker than her forearm, and the sight of it made her other hand fall between her legs with the wonder of how this thing was possibly going to fit into her tight cunt without tearing her in two. The smell of it hit her in the face along with the heat, one of intoxicating manliness that she'd never smelled even in the unwashed cocks of the men in the warren, as if the manliness that was spread out in dozens of cocks had been condensed right here and now.

Looming above her, Grog scratched his cheek sheepishly. "Sorry, but, you don't know how stretchy goblins actually are, do you?"

"That stretchy?"

"Barely."

They didn't have much longer to talk as a servant came into the room and ushered them out, Grog bending double to ensure the fake chain leading Lappy forward didn't jerk on her neck. Then, they entered a large room, coming onto a long stage from which they could perform while those men and women half-hidden in the shadows beneath them could watch.

Grog growled, slipping with ease into his assigned role and roughly dragging Lappy along toward the head of the stage where a rotund man in a tall hat sat and beckoned. She also performed her role, since she'd figured out what this was already, and came to bear half snarling and half cowering from the great power of the man who had bound her.

No words were spared, the master was too busy with his meal to care about directing the action on stage, that was the duty of the actors after all. Grog planted a knee so that his cock would lower to Lappy's head height, so that there would be an uninterrupted line of sight to the crowd when he grasped her head in a single massive palm and forced her into his groin, the gigantic cock growing even further as it rubbed up against her cheek.

"Open!" he called down at her like a savage, digging a huge thumb between her lips and painfully forcing her jaw open, lowering the head of his cock, almost as big itself as her clenched fist and furiously red.

She knew what to do, she'd seen this savagery before in it natural habitat. With squealed, impotent resistance, she let herself be pulled until the head of his cock was prying open her mouth. Only the head could fit inside before it would start choking her, and then it did start choking her. While she tried to swirl her tongue around it, the ache at her tongue's base told her that it would be impossible, and the liquid already flowing down her throat said it was unnecessary.

"That it, whore! Know place!" Grog growled, pulling her so that her head bobbed as it could on the tip of his engorged cock, the pulse of his heartbeat throbbing with the whole of her head, her body forgotten as it uselessly trailed back and forth. He hit her throat with every thrust, but even if she was to throw up, there wasn't any gap between his cock and her lips for it to come out! "More, now!" he commanded, pulling one of her arms up so that she touched the shaft.

So, she brought up her other hand and grabbed his meat as much as she possibly could, rubbing down the length as far as she could reach, like her hands had only become what her mouth was not wide enough to be. It worked, though, as she heard satisfied growling from the ork and his thrusts became more frequent. She felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes, swallowed down drool which couldn't make its way between cock and lip, and despite it all, she could feel her legs wobbling, wetness spreading under the loincloth.

It felt so degrading, being used like a masturbation toy, but she'd known this was her fate from so long ago. She was born to have her throat ravaged, her asshole plunged, to be seeded over and over and over. She'd have been alright with it, knowing nothing of the world; it would have been nothing more or less than a better, more respectful version of what she would have in the wild. Now, as a toy being used by another toy, she thought that there was no way she should be enjoying it as much as she did.

Lappy greedily swallowed down gulp after gulp of precum, felt it slide down her throat and settle in her belly. The ork produced so much of it that she felt she could have milked it out into a glass and enjoyed it at her leisure, but here she was having it pounded down her throat as the tip of his cock forced it down. Her jaw ached from holding her mouth open, from keeping her teeth from scraping his meat, but she hardly felt it when there was so much more going on. Her knees knocked together, and she could hear laughter from the crowd, but it didn't change how much she wanted to withdraw one of her hands from its stroking motions to pay a little attention to herself.

Though, when she started, Grog stomped and growled a threat, so she could only stay as she was, stroking up and down his raging cock, wiggling her hips in some sort of attempt to keep herself from going crazy with desire.

But... she did notice how Grog restrained himself, she saw through blurry eyes how he regarded her in secret, restraining himself from the violence that he knew he could indulge in. That was a look she often saw in Leigh's eyes, that deep-seated guilt that prevented them from truly satisfying themselves. He wanted to slam himself down her throat, to ram her onto his cock so deeply and so roughly that he would be wearing her like a condom.

His thrusts came faster and harder, knocking against the back of Lappy's throat over and over with tear-inducing choking. She had to endure it as the brutish girth of his cock's head stretched and bulged her throat, tangy precum coating it and plunging deeper with the lubrication it provided. The taste and the heat intensified along with the sound of Grog's grunting, coming at orgasm from a long way off with such inertia that he couldn't have held back if he wanted to.

Semen rushed into Lappy's mouth on one end of the stroke and Grog's cock plunged back inside, spurting inhumanly-voluminous loads of cum straight down Lappy's throat. It forced its way into her belly, made her feel like she was a balloon being inflated, and she had no choice but to take it in stride. She rode the ork's ejaculation as his hips thrust, giving her in turn a taste of his thick, hot cum on her tongue before slamming another gulp down her throat. When it was done, it took several seconds before Lappy was allowed to slide off of Grog's cock and fall to her knees, coughing and sputtering semen.

Her belly bulged from how much she had been forced to swallow, cum as thick as chowder still on her tongue with its intense flavor. It dribbled down her chin as her vision drifted to the crowd in shadow, and she felt that she had to tip her head back and swallow the rest, punctuated by licking her lips clean. They expected a monster, after all, didn't they?

There were some appreciative murmurs, but Lappy's hope that this would be the end of it all was dashed.

Grog reached down and took her by the ankles, upending her and bringing her up into his groin. He was slightly less hard, his massive cock put through her thighs and laid against her bulging belly, so long that its tip passed her navel. It wouldn't fit... it wouldn't, would it? No, there was no way...

No preamble, Grog lowered her until his cock was lined up with her wet cunt, the thick head resting between her lips. And some barbarian effort of his muscles drew her onto his rod in one painful push. She didn't have the breath to scream; it felt like half of her organs were being pushed out of the way to accomodate his thickness, her hips popping with some indescribable agony such that when Grog grasped her by the waist her legs flopped across his thighs. She was truly made into a toy, like any suitably soft and tight hole would be just as good if not for the way her face went limp and the sounds that his cock ramming against her diaphragm pushed out of her mouth.

But it... it was too hard, too much, too frequent. Lappy knew she should hate it, but there was too much happening for the pain to truly register along with the rest of the sensation. She hung from Grog's waist, from his grip, in a state of sublime submission, unable to do anything but engage with the myriad feelings being slammed into her body. Aches were translated into pleasure, the sound of her own juices sloshing around his cock so loud in her long ears that there was no denying even to herself that she was feeling something divine along with the torturous.

Lappy gulped down as much breath as she could, blood rushing to her head and stoking the fires in her cheeks. She reached up and held Grog's hands as if telling him that he was alright to go as hard as he needed to, that she wasn't just enduring it for its own sake. She couldn't tell him, didn't have the breath to moan or to sigh with pleasure, but she had to let him know that this wouldn't be held against him in the end.