(final)

Goblin's Mate - Part 3

Garrick let out a strained grunt as he thrust into the Goblin Warrior's pussy, a shuddering moan following as he came inside of her.

She herself was bent over beneath him, moaning loudly in her ecstasy, her walls clamping down and spasming about his cock as she too came, keeping his ejaculation going.

Soon enough, he slipped out with a huff, and the goblin collapsed on her belly, a drunken grin on her face as she let the afterglow wash over her.

Garrick rolled back into an upright position, panting from the fatigue of his fourth climax in a row, having filled four different bellies with his seed that supposedly provided their salvation beyond just giving them the babies they so desperately wanted.

The three other goblins were piled together, cuddling and kissing each other, happily basking in the aftermath. They turned to Garrick and giggled, beckoning him over.

"Come, human! Come join! Kisses and cuddles!" one of them exclaimed.

The offer was admittedly tempting, but he feared if he did, he they would soon try to go again, and he didn't wish to be drained to a husk before he was given his freedom.

But he did contemplate it for a moment, before shaking his head.

"Sorry. I need rest," he asserted. They pouted and whined, unbecoming for warriors, but he had seen them spar; they used wooden practise weapons so they didn't gut each other, but they were vicious and fierce, and could give the average town guard a good run for their money, if not utterly trounce them.

It was a bit of a humbling contrast to see for Garrick, getting familiar with their lecherous antics and playful nature, and then seeing what they were like when pushed to violence.

Nevertheless, he had to leave the tent, getting dressed before the goblin warriors started pleading with him in their teasing way; whenever he wasn't placed into bondage to be used as they wished - and he had been in the three days since his talk with the Shaman, purely for their own whims - they seemed much more lenient towards his limits and his choices.

He left the tent, and Fiza was there, waiting for him. She was as stern as ever, but seemed less aggressive towards him now. Though he suspected some frustration from her, wanting to go another round with him.

But only Tizka so far had been that lucky, as his caretaker. She had tended to him every morning now, even if he did not have morning wood. She would rouse him... then arouse him, and after providing her wicked care, she'd bring food and drink to him, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

Part of him felt a little guilty, that he was taking much from her and giving next to nothing back, but she insisted. He was thinking of a way to repay her, even just partially, before his return home.

Home. He knew it was going to be soon, he had a gut feeling. But he really couldn't imagine it happening, part of him feeling like he'd be stuck here forever.

How he'd explain his disappearance to the villagers was a conundrum he had yet to answer, since he'd sworn to not tell his village about the goblins. Or, at the very least, not tell where they were. Maybe that would be enough, to pretend to have not known where they took him, but surely 'he'd know' if he found his way back.

He was thinking hard on what he could say to his fellows that they would believe and would keep his promise to the goblins.

Otherwise, he'd be filling his time between then and now like he had been for the past three days; mating with the various goblins in small groups at a time, and occasionally enjoying their other pleasures, not every load he spilled filling a goblin's womb. And they were happy to stimulate him in a myriad of ways as well, learning every sensitive weak point on his body; just yesterday, a group of the regular villagers crept into his tent and gave him little choice in letting them give him a multi-grip handjob, stroking his shaft and massaging his balls with a mess of hands and fingers.

With added lubricant, it was surprisingly intense. And of course, Tizka participated eagerly, one of the rare moments she got to join in group affairs.

He sighed as he contemplated this, heading back to his tent behind Fiza, whilst ignoring the numerous propositions from the other villagers.

In time, he'd gotten used to their advances. And he'd come to enjoy the frequent debauchery, now that he was left free of bondage save for those select few times.

He returned to the tent, and Fiza parted with him, but not before giving him a firm squeeze to his rump; she hadn't had a chance to fuck him again, but that didn't stop her from teasing him here and there.

He muttered, and then entered the tent, where Tizka was slumped on the bed, snoring quietly. It almost sounded like a purr, so he was loathe to make much noise and wake her. He rather enjoyed it.

He poured himself some water, and then quietly sat down on the floor cross-legged, drinking from the wooden mug and watching Tizka sleep quietly, seeing her back rise and fall, her chest facing away from him as she laid on her side... a bit of a necessity with a chest as large as hers.

In this moment of quiet, however, he had a small but significant revelation; if he did impregnate some of these goblins, he was going to be the father of many.

What would that feel like? He didn't expect to be raising them. He wasn't sure they planned on it. They never seemed to remark on it too much, to the point calling any offspring 'bastard children' seemed inaccurate at best.

He sighed to himself, and sipped some more, before Tizka roused from her sleep. She yawned, and then rolled over and spied Garrick. Her eyes widened quickly, and she got to her feet.

"Tizka, please, don't get up on my account," he insisted, raising his hands. His tone was even a little pleading. But she was up and over to him, chest bouncing in that enticing way. Then she looked to the mug in his hand, and a sheepish look fell over her face.

"Oh. Sorry, you have already gotten a drink," she noted. She seemed a bit disappointed, but Garrick simply sighed; he appreciated her commitment to him, but at the same time, he felt terrible having her wait on him hand and foot. It felt exploitative, a comical irony given his circumstances.

"Tizka, you don't have to serve me every waking moment," he insisted, and not for the first time. Her ears drooped a little as she huffed.

"I know... but it makes me feel good to care for you," she said. "I feel like I am doing wrong if I do not."

"You're not doing wrong. But I don't want to feel like you're my personal servant. You're not, and I worry you'll overwork yourself for my behalf."

"Ha! Overwork? Never, I have too much energy," she exclaimed proudly, hands on her hips.

He rubbed a hand to his brow and shook his head, but he couldn't help smirk a little at the display; much as he didn't want to take advantage of her, he'd grown fond of her energy, a trait shared among the rest of the goblins, but hers was channelled towards a dedication to her work.

He really did wish he could take her back to his home, but he knew better than that.

Tizka grabbed a strip of jerky, and sat back down on the bed, biting into it with her sharp teeth and easily tearing a piece off. He had a hard time believing he trusted these things with his cock in their mouths. And they even occasionally used their teeth to provide a tiny bit of extra stimulation, with some careful pressure and scraping.

The sun was past its apex now, the afternoon coming on, and Tizka was once more regaling him about some goblin history.

"And that is why the goblins split into their many clans," she explained. It was a mythology tale, about why they were created, with an original fourteen goblins 'born' by the Orc Mother. He didn't quite understand their purpose as Tizka had described them being created to 'guard the low ways' whilst the orcs were entrusted to guard the 'high ways', and he didn't think it was the same as 'highway' between two cities.

But the Orc-Mother grew quiet, and the fourteen could not agree on who should guard which of the ways, or how. Without guidance from the Orc-Mother, they grew bitter and paranoid towards one another, and then began to feud, paving the way for the animosity still shared between the many tribes of today.

She noted with a hint of sadness that as their feuds deepened and more tribes sprouted, splitting from the followings of the first fourteen, they lost sight of their task of guarding the 'low ways'... which were lost forever.

At first he thought these 'low ways' were subterranean tunnels and caverns. But Tizka refuted that. Unfortunately, she had no explanation for what they

actually

were.

Then, Tizka asked him an unexpected question; she wanted to know about

his

history.

He paused for a moment, not expecting to ever be asked about his life or his home. And now that he was on the spot, he wasn't sure what to say.

"My home? Well, you know where it is... Dalthorpe isn't much. Just a small village by this forest, full of farmers and hunters. Not large enough to be really important, but not so tiny it doesn't get some more interesting traders. No fascinating history, no crazy points in its past. It's just a place people settled. And they haven't left after generations," he explained.

"How many generations?" she asked, sitting cross-legged on the bed, and leaning forward intently. He'd never seen anyone so interested in his home.

"I don't know... the oldest family in the village say they were there from the beginning, and they stretch back nine generations."

"Nine generations..." Tizka echoed, looking wistfully towards the top of the tent. "I have never known us finding any one place we could stay for even one generation."

There was a hint of sadness in her voice, and it made Garrick all the more committed to keeping his word; if these goblins had told him the truth, they've been travelling a very long time, from very far away. And couldn't hope on the generosity of their fellows, who feared them as if they carried a deadly plague.

"Tell me, what about you?" she asked more directly. "What were you doing in the forest? You are no hunter."

"I am a hunter. Of a sort," he said, sipping his water. "I hunt truffles."

Tizka cocked her head, her ears flopping slightly. But cutely.

"Truffles?"

"Mm," Garrick affirmed through another sip. "They're a sort of mushroom. They grow a lot in these woods, and they're very valuable. They're considered a delicacy to some and they're pretty tasty. I sold them to traders and kept a few for myself and some of the villagers."

"Mushrooms are tasty!" Tizka agreed. "But I have never heard of truffle mushrooms before."

"They're not that common. And they're not like other mushrooms, they've got a particular flavour; stronger, quite savoury, great for going over simple foods. But they don't last long. I sell them fresh for that reason. By the time the merchants get to where they're selling on my truffles, whoever buys them will be using them quickly."

Tizka seemed fascinated. Not many really asked him about his work. They just respected him for being a working man, who had his own set of skills.

"I was on your side of the river because all the truffles on my side were all torn up. I was hoping I'd find some on the other side."

He opted not to suggest who he thought was responsible, fearing any accusation would either cause offence, which was a headache he did not need, or that he'd make Tizka feel guilty. Which also didn't want.

"I wonder if it makes the mind see things," she mused. "We used to grow mushrooms like that. It is like you can talk to the Orc Mother. But that is just a silly feeling. A good way to take the mind off bad thoughts and bad times. Sadly, it does not grow well here. All we can grow is buzzleaf, and that is difficult."

"No... no, truffles do not drug the mind," he clarified. "They're just a strong flavour to go with meals."

"Shame," she said. "It would be more fun if the food made you see things."

"I'd prefer a clear mind with food."

"And that is fair!" Tizka conceded. "Not everyone likes not being in their head."

Garrick looked at Tizka, and subtly shook his head. These goblins had wild ideas, but they had moments where they were oddly civilised.

They conversed some more, Garrick wondering if he was going to be called away to another mating session, but the sun soon began to dip towards the horizon. He was somewhat thankful of that. Mating with the four warriors had fatigued him somewhat, and earlier that day, he mated with an older Goblin who oversaw the food preparation. Her wrinkles had shown, and she lacked some of the youthful perkiness of many of her peers. Still, she had a mature beauty about her for a goblin... and she had near run him ragged with her skills and energy, something she was not lacking.

Though he wagered tomorrow would be just as strenuous. Oh well, there could be worse fates.

He did wonder sometimes if he might've accepted an offer to be the village's personal mate if they'd come to him more diplomatically. He knew plenty of men would.

The sun eventually dipped below the horizon, and Tizka fixed Garrick dinner; compared to the cooked steak a few days ago, he hadn't been as generously fed, though Tizka nonetheless did her best to dress up the jerky, bread and salted, preserved meat to be more pleasant. And to the goblins' credit, they knew how to spice their meats with foraged herbs.

Hand-picked fruit rounded off his meals, so he ate well enough. But he still had to get used to their penchant for eating raw meat; they were particularly fond of the hearts and livers of their kills, but they'd eat just about anything once they'd cleaned it. The Hunters in particular ritualistically ate the brains of their kills, believing it would imbue the instincts of the animals they'd slain into their own, letting them understand their quarry better.

As for the Warriors, Fiza had told him it was once practice for them to rub the blood of their slain enemies all over them, sometimes even drinking it, something they shared with orcs. They no longer did so for fear it would paint a target upon them by other races, humans especially, but Fiza also added, "though some may cling to the old ways" with a wry smirk.

He didn't know if she was teasing him or not, and he preferred not to think about it.

Garrick finished his meal for the night, moving over to lie on the bed to relax; if he wasn't going to be fucked, then there wasn't much else for him to do.

This time, however, Tizka came over to him with something else in hand.

It was a book, one with fancy gilded text on the front, and the golden embossed image of what looked like a platter of food.

"What's this?" he asked, struggling to read the fancy text. He wasn't illiterate, but he wasn't used to reading flowing characters like that. And his comprehension was fairly simple.

"It is a book about food," Tizka remarked, opening up its dusty pages. "It talks about all sorts of different things and ingredients. Where to get them, what they are used for. And recipes, lots of them."

She presented it to him, Garrick taking it tentatively. He suspected it was stolen, but the brown leather that bound the tome showed its age, worn and scuffed here and there, and he suspected it wasn't much better before it ended up in goblin hands. So he had no idea when they acquired it.

"Thank you," he said.

"It is not a gift," she clarified, looking a little deflated. "It is not mine. But I thought you would like to read it! Pass the time, maybe get ideas. I even looked through just before, and saw truffles! You were right, they are valuable. It mentions some important people, maybe you could sell to them if they are close."

If they were even alive, he thought. Still, a book about food was as good as any to help alleviate boredom.

He opened it from the start, and was relieved to see the tome's title printed in more legible text upon its first page; "The Gourmand Guide."

He was no Gourmand. He was just a truffle hunter. He didn't think he was going to gain too much out of reading it, but it'd be a fun exercise.

It was a challenging one too, the prose quite flowing and fanciful, and there were many words that he didn't immediately recognise. And many he didn't know at all, but he figured them out through context clues.

Eventually, he grew tired of reading, the book a bit of a strain on his mind, though a welcome one. He put it down carefully on a small stool Tizka had set aside to put things on by the hammock.

He got up to drink some water and have a nice fruit dessert, when he heard a quiet huffing sound.

He frowned quizzically, and peeked around a shelf with a cloth draped over it to spy Tizka groping her breasts and rubbing her vulva. She pinched a nipple between two fingers, and let out a silent squeak when she did the same to her clit, biting her lower lip to keep her from being too noisy.

There was something different about this masturbation though... she seemed tense, perhaps even a little frustrated.

Of course, he felt like he was violating her privacy, since she had secreted herself away in this space out of his view. So he tried to back away, blushing and holding in a breath. Though it seemed rather absurd he'd react such a way after all he'd seen and done.

However, his foot bumped the shelf, and caused several of the items on it to rock.

Tizka yelped, and then turned to face Garrick, recoiling instinctively.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry!" he exclaimed, holding up his hands in a placating manner. "I will... I will leave you to it."

"No, Garrick, wait!" she blurted out, before catching herself. "Sorry. I did not mean to worry you."

He gave her a bit of a confused look.

"I wasn't worried, I just heard something odd is all," he explained.

She sighed, and leaned up against the shelf, bracing a hand against its haphazard frame. Her fingers were covered in moisture.

"I did not want to bother you," she stated.

"Bother me?"

"I help you in the mornings. I love helping you in the mornings~" she began, a hint of deviousness in her voice quickly fading. "But you are busy with the others over the day. You do not like too much sex. And you are supposed to rest at night. I also leave you alone at night, so you can have some time to be unbothered. But..."

She firmly gripped her chest, and then let go to slide her hand down to her abdomen.

"I feel in heat around you always," she said. "You make my heart and my pussy buzz. I can not help it."

She pushed past him to find herself a jug of water to drink from, not even bothering with a mug.

"I have ignored it until now. The mornings were always enough to sate. But it was getting harder. I had to... help myself a little tonight."

Garrick presented a perplexed expression; she was explaining her incessant horniness with a gravity he didn't think these goblins would attribute to arousal. But it seemed her growing desire to be respectful towards him clashed with her inherent lust. And it was clearly causing her some discomfort.

"Do not worry about me," she assured. "I will find a way. I would ask one of the others for help, but I must watch over you as Chief says."

He frowned a little; her devotion to the Chief was admirable, but it bordered on a zealous adherence to her orders, and he worried it could become unhealthy.

He didn't like seeing her in discomfort, even if it was of the obscene variety.

For a few moments, he was locked in an internal debate as to whether he should do what he was contemplating. After all, it was... more forward than he'd ever been with any of these goblins.

But he didn't think he was that exhausted. And nor did he feel he'd be poorly rested come morning.