Goblin Games

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Cynna is a highly capable and experienced adventurer. Sure, it’s unwise to go into any dungeon alone, but there’s nothing in these old, crumbling ruins that poses a real challenge to her – until an ill-advised attempt to crawl through a hole in search of loot leaves her stuck with her delicates exposed to the dank tunnels, and a hoard of goblins happen across her…8k words, very dark content rating.

Note: This story takes place in the same world as my story Vivionne’s Pets, although you don’t need to have read that story to enjoy this one.

Content tags/warnings: monsterfucking; nonconsensual gang-bang; mild claustrophobia (at a level typical for stuck fetish stories); nonconsensual/forced impregnation

Cynna had never in her life been so humiliated, nor so angry.

This was all Brand’s fault, the shiftless layabout. If he hadn’t refused to accompany her into the dungeon, she wouldn’t be in this position.

It wasn’t even a very exciting dungeon! Just the old ruins of some long-gone wizard’s castle–built down into the ground rather than up into the air, but that was truly the only interesting thing about it. Otherwise, it was just a drafty set of stone ruins set into the earth, empty of anything of value. The whole place had been picked over clean by other adventurers who had passed through in decades prior, leaving not much on the upper levels but old dirt and stone.

Cynna had seen nothing, absolutely nothing, on the first five levels down, except for one devil-faced spider that she’d dispatched easily enough. But the venom from a single devil-faced spider, though alchemically valuable, was hardly enough to fill her coin-purse, even if she found someone educated enough to buy it off her out here in the ass-end of nowhere at the very edge of the civilized portion of the continent.

So she’d kept going down. And, sure, there had been some tunnels that looked a little shifty–dark passages crawling off into the dirt, with old stonework shattered in a pile around them, like something had burrowed in from the outside. She was a trained adventurer, not a fool; she avoided those, and she kept moving.

Brand, the coward, had heard about the tunnels from some of the towns-folk, and had heard some ridiculous rumor that the tunnels all stretched off in the direction of Dark Reach. As if there was any real risk that any of those nasty critters would come crawling this far from their hellish homeland! At best, Cynna expected there might be some half-breeds–bedeviled creatures, like werewolves; or perhaps some of the stunted and ugly things that spawned on the edges of Dark Reach, a cyclops or a band of hideous little goblins–but no real demons.

But, of course, Brand couldn’t be convinced, and so she’d had to go in without him.

And now–and now she was–she was fucking stuck!

When Cynna had first spotted the opening in the wall, she had thought it was a gap of missing stonework, from years of damage and decay; but when she had bent to peer through, she had seen how smooth it was, as if it were built into the wall intentionally. It was some sort of slot or hole, the only way to access the tiny, dark room on the other side.

And then she had thought she’d seen something shiny in that dark little space, and so of course–of course!–she’d knelt down and slipped her arms and her head and her shoulders through, in hopes of finding some valuable loot overlooked by previous explorers..

Well, the shiny thing, it turned out, was simply the light catching the dark, slick leaves of some sort of bedeviled plant, and as soon as she was halfway through the hole, the damned thing had wrapped a tendril right around both of her wrists and trapped her.

Whatever this little space once was, the plant had taken it over entirely: her floating witch-light illuminated nothing but walls of leaves and shifting tendrils. It had two or three of its thickest vines wrapped around her wrists now, and no matter how hard she yanked, the plant held on tight.

If she could just get all the way in to the little room, she’d have the leverage to use a knife to cut her wrists free–but the hole she was wedged in was too small to fit her generously-sized hips.

Even worse, in her initial panicked struggle, she’d caught some part of her belt on the stonework. It had come right off, taking her skirt with it.

And now there she was: stuck on her knees, wedged halfway through a wall in some crumbling old dungeon. Rear out, fully exposed, for any old monster to just come along and eat. Yes, she did have a charmed amulet that would send an emergency signal to Brand, to alert him that she needed help, but she couldn’t let him find her like this!

“You have to let go eventually,” she growled to the plant.

It responded by creeping another, smaller feeler in her direction, as if trying its luck, before rapidly retreating when she pounded at it with her partially-restrained fists.

“Accursed–vile–” she grunted, yanking her ataköy escort arms back again and getting nothing for her trouble except for bruises on her wrists as the plant tightened its grip.

For several long minutes Cynna struggled, filling the little space with her grunts of effort and the frantic rustling of the plant fighting back. When she finally gave in and collapsed once more, she was panting so hard that all she could hear was the echo of her own breathing and the pounding of her heartbeat.

If there had been any sound signaling movement in the corridor behind her, she had missed it entirely. So it was quite a shock when someone grabbed a handful of her backside.

“Eek!” Cynna shrieked, kicking out. Her boot connected with something soft, and there was a warbling yell and then cursing–not in a language she spoke, but she was familiar enough to identify it as one of the lower demonic tongues, the type spoken by goblins and their ilk.

The hand grabbed her ankle next, above the cuff of her boot, wrapping around until sharp claws dug painfully into her skin. She tried to kick it off, but the fingers grasping at her were too strong.

Two other voices joined the first, chattering back and forth between themselves, and another hand grabbed her other thigh, before–to Cynna’s immense horror–grabbing and tearing her unmentionables straight off her body, eliminating the last barrier and exposing her sex to the dank air of the dungeon.

She screamed and thrashed again, her ankle and thigh both prickling sharply where she struggled against the creatures’ clawed grips. She accomplished nothing this time, except to scrape her own knees uncomfortably against the stone and to hurt her wrists as she yanked at the plant’s tight wrapping around her arms.

It took a great exercise of will to finally get hold of herself and stop the pointless struggle, forcing her body into stillness. She was only wasting her energy and hurting herself.

The creatures grabbing at her were strong, too strong to be imps–with the claws, she thought it must be goblins: short, squat, ugly little critters that spawned spontaneously in demonic waste-pits. They were strong but stupid, collecting in groups to steal, scavenge, and feed on anything they could out-number. No magic to speak of, and often too dull to even use improvised weapons, relying instead on the simplicity of their claws and their razor-sharp teeth.

Cynna could out-smart them. She just needed to collect her thoughts, to make a plan–

Hot, humid air fogged over her exposed thighs. Then a tongue, thick and abominably wet, slurped between the lips of her sex.

“No! No, no, no, you filthy creature!” she shrieked, kicking wildly.

This was a mistake. The grip on her ankle loosened, and then tightened and yanked up above her knee instead, forcing her leg to remain extended and stealing any leverage she’d had on the right side of her body.

Her struggling became an undignified, fish-like flopping, partially suspended between the grip that the vine still held on her wrists and the goblin’s claws digging into her leg. Worse, no matter how she bucked and twisted and screamed, its tongue, its nasty, vile tongue, licked inexorably between her legs, slurping and smacking and soaking her with drool.

It was horrendous. It was disgusting. It was–it was–

It was making her hot.

Cynna flushed red in humiliation and redoubled her struggles, resolutely ignoring the tingling sparks of arousal fluttering through her in response to the slimy slide of the goblin’s tongue over her most sensitive parts. True, between her argument with Brand and the total lack of other acceptable partners in this tiny town, it had been a while since she’d seen the inside of a man’s trousers, but that did not make it acceptable for her body to betray her this way!

“Mmmm-hmmm,” grumbled the goblin happily, as if it could taste how she was growing wet–and then its tongue dove into her, spreading her cunny open.

Cynna squealed and bucked, trying to dislodge it. The goblin simply rode the movement, its wet, slobbering face pressed between her thighs, its engorged tongue lapping in and out of her in a steady rhythm like an animal licking a treat.

This was unthinkable. Intolerable. Her body was a temple, maintained through strict training and hours of weapons practice every day, and she had only ever allowed the touch of men who respected that. She was not a toy to be used by inhuman, barely-sapient things–!

She was not squirming in pleasure over that thick, fetid tongue working away inside her–!

The tongue finally retracted, and Cynna exhaled in relief. The goblin must have gotten bored? It wasn’t as if the stupid creature understood what it was actually doing to her, surely.

There was another short burst of infernal chatter, muffled and echoing strangely through the stone wall that Cynna was wedged through…and then something new pressed avcılar escort against her sex.

Something horribly bulbous and hot, offensively sticky with fluids that she could only guess at.

If she didn’t know better, she would think it was the creature’s cock–but goblins couldn’t possibly have cocks the size of whatever was nudging against her. The average goblin was the height of a young human child; they could only reach her at all because she was stuck on her knees. If the thing touching her was a goblin’s cockhead, it would have to be bigger around than the creature’s own fist, and the implied comparative size of the rest of the member…

The goblin let loose a low, guttural growling noise and tightened its grip on both her hip and her thigh, and then suddenly it was pushing in, and–oh Gods, it was a cock, it was the thickest, longest cock she’d ever taken, how could that possibly be what goblins were hiding under their filthy loincloths?

Cynna shrieked and yanked her arms, no longer trying to pull away from the plant but trying to use its grasp to pull herself further in, blindly trying to force her way through the slot in the rock to escape the attentions of the rapacious creature behind her.

Of course, the hole hadn’t grown any since she’d first stuck herself through it, and–though she succeeded in pulling herself off the goblin’s cock for a moment–she ultimately only managed to wedge her hips in place, trapping herself even more firmly in the hole.

The goblin grabbed her again, rougher this time, meaner, digging in its claws as if to punish her for the miserably failed escape attempt. Cynna had no room at all to struggle now; her hips were pinned in place, her sex presented to the awful beast as if on a silver platter.

It lined up its cock once more, and this time it shoved in hard.

“Ahh! N-no, no,” Cynna protested as the thing’s unimaginably enormous member penetrated her, stretching her just a bit too fast for comfort. “No, please, I don’t–that hurts–“

She realized with a sudden sweep of despair how useless her pleas for mercy were. The creature rutting into her didn’t even seem to speak her language–and, besides, it didn’t seem to care a bit whether she wanted this or not. She burst into a sudden and humiliating storm of tears.

The goblin was entirely unmoved by her reaction. It rucked its hips roughly and forced its way deeper into her, spreading her helpless cunt on its fat cock. It gripped and clawed at her hips to yank itself forward, jolting in violent thrusts until finally, with a murmuring grumble of pleasure, it fully seated itself in her, jabbing so deeply that she could feel the bulbous head rubbing uncomfortably against the mouth of her womb.

Cynna sniffled and bit her lip, trying to swallow back the embarrassing weeping. It had been years since she’d cried like a child–but she felt so utterly vulnerable and helpless, the deepest and most sacred part of her being so fully exposed and thoroughly used by the grunting sub-demonic creature on the other side of the wall.

The plant tried to take advantage of her distraction to creep another tendril towards her. She shrieked and smacked it away, and then burst into another round of tears, sobbing pitifully as the goblin ground slowly at her insides with its cock.

Time dripped by. The goblin seemed content, for many long minutes, to just rub and grind inside her. Its cock was iron-hard and hot, pulsing with arousal against the tight-stretched walls of her channel, and yet it was in no hurry to thrust; it simply held on and rolled its hips, nudging its cockhead against the deepest part of her, its lightly-furred balls rubbing a bit too roughly against the damp lips of her sex.

It was so different from the way Cynna had ever been taken by a man that it drove home the repulsive, inhuman features of the creature using her. Her stomach churned with disgust as she felt every throb and twitch of the enormous cock invading her.

And yet…

She couldn’t deny that, as her body adjusted to the stretch, it was beginning to…respond.

Being stuffed so full was a novel sensation, and she was having a dismayingly enthusiastic–purely physical!–response. Her cunny pulsed wetly around the relentless size of the thing lodged inside her, and whenever the goblin shifted in such a way to brush its balls near her sensitive clit, a shock of heat would run through her, racing up her spine to make her shudder helplessly.

The wetter she got, the more easily the massive cock moved inside of her, too, which did help with the initial discomfort, but just compounded her–her other problem.

She had the brief, unwanted thought that it would feel rather fantastic, actually, to climax while speared on such a large manhood. Her cunny clenched eagerly at the idea.

The goblin ground into her again, rolling its hips, and Cynna grunted and spread her legs instinctively, rocking back to beylikdüzü escort meet it. Its balls clapped firmly against her clit, and a choked little noise of pleasure burst from between her lips.

“Mm-hmmmm,” the goblin groaned approvingly–and then, with a vicious surge, it started to take her.

No more slow, gentle grinding. The creature dug its nasty claws into her hips and began to rut, its thrusts fast and frantic, violently animalistic in the way it pounded carelessly into her with its massive staff.

Cynna yelled in surprise, and then let out a shuddering moan. The discomfort of the brisk speed was quickly offset by the vigorous slap-slap-slap of the goblin’s heavy balls patting away at her clit, sending rolling waves of pleasure radiating up into her and turning the uncomfortable stretch of the thick cock dragging through her body into a churning heat.

“Ughh. No,” she groaned, this time to herself, because that just wasn’t acceptable. There was no way that she was going to get off on this, some short little infernal maggot humping away at her, like a noblewoman’s purse-dog going at her husband’s unfortunate ankle–

The creature’s cock caught at an angle inside her, making Cynna wince and yelp in pain, and then shudder as the sensation turned to more arousal.

Her legs spread wider, outside of her conscious control, and she whimpered as the goblin’s balls hit her clit even more squarely, the tapping rhythm fanning the flames in her loins.

“Rghh, nnhhh,” the goblin grunted, sounding strained–and then its feet, its filthy, clawed little feet, scrabbled at her thighs as it pulled itself up higher, clinging onto her and bracing so that it could take her even more violently, humping with all of its considerable strength. “Hh. Hrhh–hrhhh–“

“Oh, Gods, no, no,” Cynna whispered to herself, fighting back the inevitable. The heavy rock and drag of the thing’s cock inside of her, the thick weight of its jewels impacting her clit, even–perversely–the strenuous noises it made in its coupling of her, all pushed her closer and closer to the most mortifying event of her life. If she–if she climaxed while being mounted by this thing–

“Hah, hah,” the goblin panted, sounding winded by the frantic pace of its fucking, and perhaps by the efforts required to handle such a large member, given the size of the rest of it. “Hhh–urghh–urghhhh–“

It let out an especially forceful grunt, and then Cynna gasped in surprise as her insides were flooded with heat.

She moaned in dismay as she realized that this was the goblin’s spend. It was depositing its seed in her–and, oh, Gods, she was so unbearably close to spending herself, if it didn’t stop humping like that, why was it still humping so vigorously if it was finished?! And it was still coming, and coming, how much could its balls possibly hold?

Cynna tensed her muscles and bit her lip, bullying back the orgasm trying to rise inside of her, but–it was–no–

Right as she was at risk of succumbing to an unwilling and disgraceful climax, the creature finally, finally slowed its rutting. Cynna gasped and panted, not quite able to rouse the gratitude that she wished she felt as her overheated, unsatisfied sex continued to pulse around the enormous amount of goblin issue being pumped into her.

The noises the goblin made were increasingly guttural and garbled, unnecessarily wet. Cynna whimpered as she felt something splattering on her back and realized it was drooling on her, covering her in its spittle even as its twitching cock continued to spew thick, hot seed into her.

It pressed in close enough that its spasming balls pressed up against the lips of her sex again, so that she could feel the little rounds inside its sack clenching and twitching, pumping more and more and more into her, until the stuff began to leak out around its cock, drip down the inside of her thighs.

Cynna bit her lip hard and, finally regaining control of her head, thanked the Gods that she’d been able to hold back from finishing. There was nothing more abasing, surely, than the idea of climaxing in tandem with this…thing, with its copious seed dripping out of her. That would have made her feel lower than any whore in a city brothel.

With one final long groan, the goblin drew its heavy cock from her. A veritable flood of its gunk dribbled free as soon as she was unplugged, seeping out of her in thick clumps and rolling down her sex.

She groaned in disgust at the sensation, then groaned again when her channel didn’t empty as quickly as she expected. She felt so full of seed that it was almost uncomfortable–if not physically, at least psychologically, the thick slickness a firm reminder of what had just happened to her, what had just been inside her.

After a few seconds of waiting, she tensed her abdominal muscles and made an attempt to push out more of the stuff, wincing against the anticipated humiliation of feeling it slide out of her.

But there was no dripping.

Cynna whimpered and took a breath, then pushed again, trying to clear her body of the foul pollution, but–

No. Her cunny flexed and fluttered, and Cynna gasped as she felt an alien firmness there, like something hard had been lodged into her entrance.

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