The Goblins Gorl Ch 03

Fezzik ate a can of past-due-date corned beef as he watched for ship traffic on the river. He let his gorl Holly stew in the misery of knowing that the world topsides had rejected her. It was not kind. He could have reached out to stroke her hair with a touch of goblincraft to soothe her. He didn't. Every gorl had to take the truth of what they were to heart. If Holly needed comfort? Then it was a gorl's place to crawl to her master to beg for it. In a way, he was glad he had been forced to take a roundabout route home. He could have been back in Thennholt in a matter of hours if it had just been him and his pack. Taking the long way to the river through the ways large enough for a bigwalker had given her some time to accept her fate.

He heard the chuff of a steam engine when he was halfway through the can. The boat that came into the light of the dock-lamps was a "puffer": a bargelike hull made of scrap iron from bigwalker oil drums to the skins of abandoned cars. The bow was built up into a forecastle for the crew quarters. A mast with a crane dangling from it jutted upwards just forward of the hatches to the cargo hold. At the stern was a funnel puffing steam with a wheelhouse of wood claimed from pallets and old doors behind that. The windows were a mixture of automobile windshields and stained glass from a bigwalker temple. Water boiled at the stern as its single screw pushed it against the current.

Fezzik flashed towards the puffer with a bit of broken mirror. The ship altered course towards the dock. Fezzik was surprised. He had not expected a hail to be answered on the first try. The puffer came to the dock with several neat maneuvers that spoke well of its helmsgoblin. It butted up against the landing the the squeak of scrap tire fenders on stone. Fezzik snapped the end of the leash across his gorl's teat. Holly yelped before straightening her kneeling posture. From within the hull came a booming voice.

"You seek passage upon the

Pharahan

, traveler?"

"Aye, to Thrennholt," Fezzik said. "I am Fezzik the Artisan, with standing in guild accounts and parts to trade."

"And a gorl, too," the voice said.

"She is not for trade," Fezzik said firmly.

"Pity." The voice remained friendly. "We have need of a stoker. Orban jumped ship at the last harbor."

"I sign no articles," Fezzik said. "It is a week to Thrennholt from here. If we do not arrive in ten days, I leave free and clear."

"Have your gorl for servant tasks, and done and done," the voice said.

"Done and done," Fezzik said. "Sworn by stone and dark."

"Come aboard," the voice said. "Trath accepts your passage."

Fezzik felt the vow settle into his bones. These of the Deepdown did not use written contracts as the bigwalkers did. One's solemn word was one's bond. Holly tried to pull away when he walked towards the gunwales of the puffer. His vow was hers as well. All she managed was a stiff walk as if she were a puppet on tensed strings. It only ended when her feet touched the deck. She rushed back towards the dock, only for her to be stopped as if by a wall. Fezzik did not chastise her. He found it amusingly instructive to discover how much a hold he had over her. Holly stayed by the gunwale watching the dock grow smaller with each passing moment as the puffer resumed its journey.

Dressed in sailor's slops and striped jerseys, the crew came over to welcome him onto the ship. They seemed a happy enough lot. Perhaps this Orban had decided the life was not for him. Stoking was a demanding task, after all. Holly cringed when they gathered around her to praise his luck in finding such a lovely girl. They were quite respectful about not interfering with his property. She acted like she was going to be shared out among them.

Then a hatch by the funnel opened. Trath raised itself out of the engine room to formally greet its newest crewmembers. A reptilian head with a ruff of skin at the base of its skull reared upwards on a sinuous neck. Delicate green scales covered its body. Eyes glowing crimson from the internal fires gazed upon Fezzik and Holly with a languid look appropriate for such a noble creature. A foreleg presented a paw the size of Fezzik himself to be given a symbolic kiss. Atop the drake's head was an almost comically small bicorne hat with tasteful golden braiding.

" 'ragon," Holly choked out.

"Forgive me, cap'n," Fezzik said. "Just brought her down yesterday."

"Nothing to forgive," Trath said in a softer, more melodious voice than before. "I am among the wonders of creation."

"It's a dragon," Holly whispered.

"Drake," Trath corrected. "I have not the wings that distinguish the greatest of our kind."

"Captain Trath both owns this vessel and provides the heat for the boiler," Fezzik said.

"A vagabond life, but one that suits me." Trath sniffed. It licked its maw with a forked tongue. "Such a pretty prize. Does she serve well beneath you?"

"I am taking my time with her," Fezzik admitted.

"So cruel a master, to keep you boiling." The tongue flicked out. Holly rose up on tiptoe.."My apologies. I could not resist sneaking a taste. A silver for the indiscretion?"

"Three," Fezzik retorted. "I hope there will be no further such."

"Possessive, aren't you?" Trath chuckled. "Be thankful you have such a caring master, gorl. Many another would have already chained you before me to slake my thirsts."

"I'm so lucky." Holly trembled. "I really am. He's amazing. I love him already. Muh-my master please please please don't sell me I'll be good--"

"Hush, gorl." Fezzik reached up to rub the small of her back. "The captain is merely teasing you, is she not?"

"If I could, I would have you chained on tiptoe before me." Trath snickered. "You would beg for mercy as I milked you of your sweet juices. But I am not a tricksy sort of drake."

Trath's eyes brightened with good humor.

"Why I shall be generous in providing fetching rags to this gorl." Trath snickered. "And I will personally clean them. Am I not a helpful host?"

Fezzik sighed.

Drakes.

+++++

O the year was Seventeen Seventy-Eight

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

A letter of marque came from the king

To the scummiest vessel I've ever seen

Holly sang softly as she prepared lunch for the crew. There was no galley as such on the steamboat. There was only a small gas-stove wedged into the aft of the forecastle running of coal gas contained in scavenged propane canisters. She had to kneel before it. There simply was not space for a "bigwalker" to stand up. Behind her were two sets of berths, two one above the other on each side, with a plank of wood attached to the bulkhead towards the bow that folded down for a table. She was so glad her master had decided on deck passage rather than bunking down here with the rest of the crew. She could not imagine sleeping beneath one of the bunks while goblins were all around her.

She continued singing one of the songs that her dad had sung to her as a kid. Her chains clinked as she stirred the thick soup that she had been taught to make by her master. It was just whatever was in the cans stowed on the shelves on either side of the stove. Unconsciously, she rubbed the steel ring around one wrist. It matched those on her other wrist, her ankles, and the collar that was snug on her throat. Her manacles and shackles were joined by short chains that were fastened to a main one that dangled from the front of her collar to right above her ankles. There were no locks or rivets. The strange magic of the goblins sealed every bond and chain link shut without a seam.

Pouring the soup into four coffee cans fitted with wire handles, she carefully knee walked over towards the bow where a ladder to one side of the table lead up to an open hatch. There was enough space to stand up without imitating Quasimodo. A green-skinned hand with claws on the tips of the fingers took them from her. It was the stevedore. Holly shuddered at the appraising look he gave her. If her master wished, he could whore her out to the entire crew. But the goblin crew never even fondled her. After grabbing the cans, he crooked a finger with a smirk on his froglike lips.

Holly flushed in shame. She reached under the hem of her dress. It was a cotton sack that ended at her upper thighs with slits on each slide up to her hips. The neckline ended maybe an inch or so above her nipples. At least it wasn't burlap! The heavy cotton still rubbed her nipples stiff constantly. The top of the sack dress was as open-ended as the bottom; a halter tie sewn to either side allowed her to be stripped without removing any bonds. Beneath her was a "crotchrope" of thin golden chains: one about her hips with two more running between asscheeks and sex. Tucked over her lower lips was a folded pad of silk that did little to lessen the touch of the chains rubbing the nub at the top of her slit. Slipping out the pad set off a small cluster of orgasms that had her panting. The arousal spell in the chains was agonizing on her in the brief moment before she stuffed a replacement pad in place.

The captain needed her treat, too.

There was a tiny sink under the shelving to the right of the stove with a handpump. Holly scoured them clean with cold water and soap. Failing in her servant's duties put her under the captain's purview for discipline. Then her master could not stop the perverted dragon-thing from doing whatever it decreed as "punishment" save for death or permanent damage. Holly was very, very lucky that Captain Trath was not gaming the assignments to make it impossible to fulfill. That was the sort of thing she would have expected from fae. All through cleaning the dishes, Holly fought against the insidious pleasure coming from the chains between her legs. It was a constant torture that could not be relieved even by forcing an orgasm or twenty on herself. The chains would not come off save for when she needed the other sort of relief or being bathed.

Or when her master finally decided to take her.

Fezzik had not touched her since they had come onto the ship beyond the bare minimum needed for her care.

Holly sat curled up in a ball by the port side of the steamboat. Her arms were wrapped around her legs. Once, she might have been fascinated by it all. The

Pharahan

had emerged from the underground river earlier in the day into a lock that bypassed a short series of rapids. They had been lowered to the surface of an subterranean lake--no, make that a subterranean freshwater sea--where the ceiling was lost amid actual clouds formed beneath it. She had seen rain showers in the distance. From the surface of the waters projected mighty spires of stone that must be the tips of even greater ones rising from the sea floor below. Every so often, Holly spotted other ships ranging from huge sidewheel paddle-wheelers to little fishing coracles in the distance.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered without her master's touch. Holly gritted her teeth as her treacherous mind worked against her. She did not love him. The idea of being his sex toy still revolted her. But she would throw herself on broken glass, now, for a single caress that showed she mattered. Without Fezzik, she was just another piece of trash from the world above that no-one cared about. Even being tightly bound and led on a leash like those terrifying early hours would have meant that her master was thinking about her. God. Her mind was really screwed up, wasn't it?

There was a thump of a bucket across from her. While lost in her misery, her master had emerged from the engine room where he fed Trath's nigh-insatiable appetite for coal. The sailor's clothes and World War I-style gas mask her wore was permeated with the stuff. Fezzik went behind the canvas tarpaulin stretched out near the forecastle hatch that granted he and Holly some privacy. Behind it was his sleeping mat and the bare spot of deck that she spent her nights on. The screen was meant to stop goblins from looking over. All she had to do was sit up enough to crane her neck.

Her master stripped off all his clothing and the mask. He was naked. Beneath his clothing was corded muscle in a body that could have come from a low-rent horror movie. The hooked nose and snake-like eyes gave him such a cruel look. Yet, she knew that he could be gentle if he wished to be. No, stop thinking that, she told herself. Remember the legs around your throat and the terror when he clamped the rag over your face. That did not stop her from reaching under to stroke the crotch-chains as he took a scrub brush and bar of soap in hand. Dipping both into a bucket of hot water from the boiler, Fezzik vigorously scrubbed himself clean of the sweat and coal dust that had made it under the sailor's slops. His cock jutted out from below his waist. It would have been more than respectable on her boyfriend. On him, it seemed huge.

She should be there, Holly thought. She was his gorl.

Sobbing, Holly finally let her need burn away what little self-respect she had. The former cheerleader crawled on hands and knees towards her goblin master. Her chains clinked. The collar at her throat seemed to weigh heavier with each passing second. She imagined him reeling in an invisible leash as she stumbled with wrists bound behind her in leather thongs. By the time she had gone behind the tarp, Fezzik had dumped a cold bucket of water over himself to rinse off. He stood there with arms folded over his chest. There was a satisfied expression on his face.

There were dark periods in Holly's memory from when she had first run away. She had had to do things to survive. With Dan, she had thought those times were behind her forever. Holly kept her eyes open as her lips pressed to her master's shaft. It stiffened as she did all the little tricks that she had been taught by the men in the clubs and in the alleys. At least he was smooth all over. Goblins did not have any body hair. He spread his feet apart to let her worship his stones. There was a hint of some acrid odor and a hint of coal. Holly began pleading between every kiss and lick for her master to show her a sign that she was a good gorl. He was hard as one of the spires in no time.

A hand gripped her hair in a tight fist. Her scalp ached from it. But from that hand came a wash of pleasure and contentment that had her eyelids fluttering. She forced her eyes to look up into her master's as her mouth was filled. The men had liked that when she did it. Holly let her master dictate the rhythm as his fist controlled the bobbing of her head in time with the thrusts of his hips. He was very gentle with her, even so. She did not have to gag like she had with the men. Or with Dan, to be honest. Her own hips rocked in time with his, the ensorcelled chains between them milking her juices for the captain in a flood worthy of Noah. Five orgasms tore through her before Fezzik finally could not hold back.

Holly swallowed every drop.

She moaned in relief when the grip in her hair became a loving stroke.

She was now Fezzik's gorl.