He did stop.
“Enough of that,” he said, as if to himself more so than me.
He took my knees and pushed them up toward my armpits, so I was displayed for him. He shifted position, so he was over me but I didn’t look at him now. I still felt hot—and wet, and warm. Something much wider than a finger nudged into me, spreading me open. I drew in an urgent breath, my entire body tensing.
“Try to breathe slower,” he said, “and it will not hurt so much.”
It kept going, forcing its way into me.
I tried to breathe. He wasn’t going to wait for me to accept him. It still hurt. I felt stretched and broken, and there was still a lot of him to go. I looked down to see my nether lips stretched wide around his thickness. He spread his arms out over my head, his body looming over me, and I could see the pale skin of his throat as he started pumping his cock into me, each stroke going a little deeper, like trails of fire inside me. Although it was pain, it was not a pain like anything I had felt before. It was like an urgent ache, almost satisfying, like the pain was also the cure for a wound I didn’t know was bleeding.
And yet how small I felt, how powerless and pinned! I felt so far away from home, here under the soaring starry ceilings, that I couldn’t imagine going home. How could I return to my father and sisters and pretend that nothing had happened, after I had been fucked by this creature?
I moaned from the pain as it went on, and he scowled at me. His golden eyes glowed a little like a cat; set in his ghastly pale skin, he looked like some sort of ghoul frowning down at me. I wondered how many of the girls who came to him ended up screaming.
But for all that, there was something in his eyes that looked concerned for me. I didn’t think he was really as fearsome as he tried to make himself out to be.
“I’m sorry,” I panted. “I know you don’t want to hurt me.”
“How do you know that? I don’t care if I hurt you. It’s the nature of the transaction.”
The strokes came faster and deeper then, and my head twisted back, as if I could escape it all. Then I felt him coming inside of me, and I moaned a little from the urgency of his final convulsions. He was silent except for the few smallest grunts. When he withdrew from me I felt empty and sore. My legs drew together, my thigh muscles aching from the position he’d held me in, and everything inside me hurting.
He slid away from me and stood up immediately, yanking his trousers up and buttoning them, like he didn’t want to see me anymore.
“Are you very sore?” he asked sharply.
“Yes…”
He crossed the room and opened a cabinet. I didn’t pay much attention to what he was doing. Between the day of walking, the hot bath and what I’d just experienced, every muscle in my body was simply done. I didn’t want to move, just wanted to sleep. Even inside the cool interior of the cave, the air smelled warm and thick with lust—maybe mine as much as his.
He walked over to me with a smooth pearlescent stone that was shaped very much like his cock.
“Spread your legs.”
“Wh—what now?”
“This is healing stone,” he said. “It will soothe your soreness and keep you ready for me.” He moved my legs apart for me, although I didn’t fight him, and the cool stone slid easily inside my slick entrance. It was not quite as large as he was, but harder, although soft as stones went.
“I’ll be back,” he said.
“When?”
“I’ll try and give you some time to sleep.”
He left without another word, and I pulled the covers over me, but despite how very tired I was, despite the length of stone filling me inside, I felt empty and unfulfilled, like something was missing.
Chapter Three
The Goblin King
Since the curse began, I didn’t care as much for virgins as I once did. It used to be so exciting, being the first man to bring a young woman to the heights of pleasure, the first one to hold her afterward, the first name she ever called out in joy.
Now, it was simply inconvenient. Unromantic. This girl would remember me as a brute who fucked her without regard for her feelings.
But I had no choice.
I waited for her as long as I could. I stood outside her door, my cock erect and throbbing, listening to the small splashing sounds of her bath. Soon…soon, I could take what I needed and be done with it, at least for a few hours.
I never looked at them anymore. I refused to let myself have feelings for a girl who would soon be gone. And usually, I think it was easier for them not to look at me either. Humans didn’t care for goblins.
This one seemed a little different, right from the start.
She was beautiful, in a human way, that was true. Her thick brown hair fell in heavy braids down her back. Her skin was very soft, especially her little feet, which I could tell were not used to walking around barefoot as goblins liked to do. Her hands, however, were a little rough, indicated that she had been cleaning something at home, the soap harsh on her skin. Who was asking a girl like this to clean? Just beneath her thin nightgown I could see the soft swells of her breasts. She had big green eyes with long lashes and a full—rather opinionated—mouth.
She wanted to know my name. She wanted to see my face. She even told me I ought to enjoy it!
And when I lifted up her nightgown, baring her sweet little virgin pussy, it was already wet.
Damn.
No, I told myself. Don’t travel this road. You know it will end badly.
I couldn’t resist letting her see just a glimpse of my old self, the man who would take his time to bring the most beautiful blush to a girl’s face, to make her willing and hungry for me with every inch of her being. My cock was demanding to thrust inside her, but I knew it would be better for her if I took just a moment with her first. I stroked her clit and almost immediately—there it was.
Her face flushed. Her body convulsed gently. Her sweet juices made my glove slick.
This girl was genuinely attracted to me. Or else just very, very ready for someone to touch her like this.
That had to be it. I had to remind myself what she was getting out of this. Gold. Gold that would buy her something she needed, raise her station, pay for some beloved family member’s medical treatment…who knew what. It didn’t matter.
But for the first time in a long while, this didn’t feel routine.
That was what scared me—angered me, even. How dare she make me feel this way? How dare she ask me my name?
I had to get on with it. I had to stop looking at her face and remind myself—she was just a vessel for my relief.
But even as I claimed that relief, I could hear her whimpering, and it tore at my ears. I was hurting her. I wished I could be more gentle. I wished I had more control. I wished I could show her the man I used to be.