Chapter 10

The red lanterns had burned low by the time I finally forced myself to sit up, letting the warm sheets of the bed fall off my naked body. My body ached, but in that good, sated way that only came from fucking until every drop of cum had been drained from me. The sheets clung damp and sticky to my skin, smelling of sweat, sex, and goblin pussy juices.

I stood, stretching, my flaccid cock twitching, the weight of exhaustion pulling at me, but my eyes couldn’t help wandering back to the bed.

Miel was sprawled across it like a ruined little goddess. The blankets had tangled around her legs, trapping her in place so she wouldn’t float away. Her upper half was anchored down by the sheer amount of seed I’d poured into her.

Her belly rose in a swollen curve, rounder than it had been when we started, the taut green skin stretched just enough to show where I had pumped her full. She had wanted me to finish inside, and I had obliged until she was sloshing with me. Every little breath she took made her stomach shift, the faintest ripple beneath the glow of the fading lanternlight, a reminder that she was carrying more of me than she could have ever dreamed of.

The rest of her was no cleaner. My cum painted her chest in messy trails, streaks cutting across her small breasts, her nipples hardened under the dried stickiness. More had spilled down her thighs, dripping off the insides of her knees and onto the already ruined sheets below. Her dark hair clung to her face, sticky where my last release had landed, pearl-white strands tangled against her lips. She had licked some of it away before sleep finally claimed her, but enough remained to prove what I had done to her.

She slept like a girl destroyed, her amber eyes closed, her mouth still curved in the faintest little smirk. Even unconscious, she wore satisfaction that she had been filled so completely. She looked impossibly small like that, buried in my mess, pinned beneath the blanket that held down what her weightless gift could not. A ruined little gatekeeper, conquered so thoroughly she hadn’t even stirred when I shifted out of the bed.

And I was proud. Proud of how quickly I had broken through her teasing, her games, her clever little smirks. Proud of how fast I had wrung her dry, turned her into a cum-drunk plaything, and still gotten the information I needed from her lips.

I lingered for another moment, watching her belly rise and fall, imagining the heat of me sloshing inside her with every breath. Then I bent, dragging the covers higher over her body, tucking her in. Not out of kindness, but because the image of her pinned down by something so ordinary after all that magic made me smirk.

Turning away, I gathered my clothes, dressing slowly, each buckle and strap pulling me further back into myself. By the time I reached the door, I was once again the man who had walked in, only heavier with knowledge and with purpose.

The handle creaked softly as I pulled it open. I cast one last glance back at the sticky, ruined goblin girl glowing in the red light, her belly swollen with my seed, her body pinned and helpless beneath the blankets. Then stepped into the hall, closing the door and sealing her inside with my cum.

The stairs groaned beneath my boots as I made my way downstairs, the scent of sweat and sex still clinging to me like another skin. The music had gone softer, the drums replaced by a single melody, a tune played on the gentle strumming of a lyre. Most of the moans had dulled to murmurs behind closed doors, or muffled whimpers. I had walked into a house alive with chaos, but now it pulsed like the afterglow of an orgy.

The desk girl was still there, perched behind her counter like she’d never moved, her green skin glistening faintly in the red glow, her ponytail tumbling down her back. She smirked when she saw me, her eyes flicking over the rumpled state of my clothes, the dried mess crusting on my skin.

“Leaving already?” she purred, cocking her head. “I hope you enjoyed yourself, Human. Miel looked eager to please and Yvara is a delight, isn’t she?”

I leaned against the counter, giving her a smile, feeling the exhaustion pull at me.

“They were both wonderful,” I agreed, and she giggled, the sound warm and bright.

“I noticed Yvara left half way through, returning to her Inn to sleep. Did you and Miel have fun by yourselves, hm?”

“Oh, we had lots of fun,” I replied, and her amber eyes lit up, her grin widening. “So make sure she isn’t disturbed. Let her sleep. She needs it.”

The hostess giggled, a sound bright and sharp, like bells. She leaned closer, her small breasts pressing faintly against the wood of the counter, her lips curving.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll let our little gatekeeper rest. You ruined her, didn’t you? A whole belly full of human seed and a night that won’t let her walk straight for days. We’ll keep her tucked in, let her sleep through the day if that’s what she needs.” Her eyes sparkled as she reached out and let her fingertips graze the back of my hand. “Besides ... after a twelve-hour session like that, I’d be surprised if she wakes before sunset.”

The words hit me harder than a slap.

Twelve hours. Not one, not two. Twelve full hours. All night.

My throat tightened, my chest went cold, the weight of her casual revelation sinking in. While I’d been drowning myself in goblin pussy and spilling myself inside a girl who floated, the sun had gone down and risen again. The whole night had vanished while I lost myself in them.

In Yvara, sweet, young Yvara, who had smothered me in her pussy, golden eyes shining as she made me lick her clean while she swallowed my cock whole. Who kissed me with berry-stained lips while her hand guided me into her slick green slit, whispering little encouragements between moans as though she was helping me, tutoring me, even as I used her like another hole to empty myself into. She had giggled when I painted her face, giggled when I bent her over beside Miel and slid from one of their dripping pussies into the other, giggled when the sheets turned sticky beneath us and I still wasn’t done.

And In Miel, who had begged to be filled until her belly swelled with my cum, her weightless body bouncing and rolling against me like a toy designed to milk every drop. She rode me until I couldn’t think, clinging to me, her tiny frame shuddering around me, her mouth panting, gasping, moaning, whimpering, and every sound only drove me harder. Her smirk grew weaker with every climax I wrung out of her until all that was left was a ruined little gatekeeper pinned down by my seed.

I’d drowned in them. In their laughter, in their tight petite bodies, in their greedy mouths and greedy little slits. I had poured myself out again and again, losing track of where one ended and the other began, only knowing I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, not until every drop was gone.

And now, hearing it said aloud ... Twelve hours.

The words sank into me like a stone dropped in water, the ripples spreading slow and merciless. Pride twisted in my gut, but it tangled with something colder, guilt. I had been reduced to little more than a rutting beast, a cock-driven animal, fucking and spilling, spraying my seed across goblin bodies until even the air reeked of me. Hour after hour, I’d painted Yvara in my seed until she glowed like she wore pearls, and filled Miel until her stomach rounded, and still I’d gone back for more, greedy, relentless, drowning in the slick heat of their pussies and the sound of their giggles.

The world had turned without me. The night had burned away, replaced by day, and I hadn’t even noticed. I’d been too lost in their holes, in their mouths, in the endless gush of my own release, to care.

And all the while ... Syli had been waiting. Alone. Collared. Leashed.

The image of her flashed hard in my mind. Her crimson eye sharp with hurt, ears pinned flat, her pride held together by nothing but a thread, a single thread that I had promised not to break. Waiting for me while I let goblins drain me, while I let them laugh and moan and smirk around my cock. I could almost see her, pacing the room, tail twitching, her mind gnawing at itself, wondering if I was coming back. Wondering if she even mattered.

The thought made my chest ache in a way no goblin pussy ever could.

The hostess only giggled again, mistaking my silence for pride, her tongue darting across her lips as if tasting the idea of me.

“Come back soon, Human. And remember, if you come back in six days, you can fuck me for free.”

I managed a nod and a weak smile, trying not to let the shock show.

Twelve hours. Twelve whole hours.

I pushed away from the counter before she could say anything else. My boots thudded against the wood as I crossed the main room, and I stumbled out into the daylight, blinking hard as the morning sun stabbed my eyes. The streets of Windend were already alive. Goblins strolled between market stalls, their wolf pets crawling obediently in their shadows, tails low, eyes wary. The scent of fresh bread and roasting meat rolled in the air, along with the sharper tang of ale and beer. I felt the dried stickiness on my skin, the ache deep in my thighs, every step a reminder of how utterly I’d surrendered to the night.

But all I could think about was Syli.

I hurried down the street, boots thudding against packed earth, weaving through the crowd as the market came alive. Goblin women eyed me with lazy smiles, some licking their lips, others giving me a sly wink as if they knew exactly where I’d spent the night. I ignored them, pushing past, my mind on the girl I’d left alone.

I nearly collided with a pair of goblin men carrying a crate between them, both of them leering as I passed. One elbowed the other, nodding toward the crusted stains on my clothes, and they both burst into low, barking laughter.

I didn’t care and kept running.

Goblins and wolves clogged every street, every alley, a tableau of obscene routine so ingrained it no longer even registered as shocking. Collared pets crawled at their masters’ heels, naked except for the band at their throats and the marks of their use, slick fur matted with sweat and cum, mouths shiny from licking cock or pussy, cheeks streaked with dried tears and dried seed. Green hands tugged leashes, guided their dogs with lazy arrogance, pausing to stroke a muzzle, to bend a wolf girl over a water trough for a quick fuck, to slip a finger between trembling thighs and idly tease an orgasm out of a pet who whimpered and gasped, desperate to please and desperate to finish.

Everywhere I looked, depravity spilled into the open like water through a broken dam. Goblin girls lounged with their wolf boys kneeling obediently between their legs, muzzles buried in slick green folds, tongues working hungrily while their owners chatted and drank. One slim goblin girl stood astride a wolf boy near a market stall, her skirt hiked up, her ass bouncing as she rode him in full view of passing traders, her breasts bare, nipples pinched between her own fingers, her head thrown back, hair streaming wild as she screamed her climax for everyone to hear.

I dodged around a cluster of goblin men jeering and laughing, two of them spit-roasting a wolf girl right in the gutter. One shoving his thick cock deep down her throat, the other pounding into her ass from behind, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm. The wolf girl’s eyes were wide and blank, her tears streaked her muzzle as she gagged and drooled around the cock in her mouth, her own claws digging uselessly at the stones beneath her as her body rocked and shook, milk-white streams already leaking from her pussy.

A trio of pets crouched together by a fountain, licking each other’s cum-stained fur clean while their masters played dice on the steps above, glancing down only to order one to bend over, to spread herself, to show the crowd how stretched and gaping her hole had become.

Every doorway, every alley, every patch of open ground had become a stage for fucking. Goblin cocks thrust between furred calves and under wagging tails, mouths stretched wide and dripping, bodies fucking in every combination of owner and pet, every pairing an act of domination, possession, use. Some wolves whimpered, some growled low in their throats, some just took it, staring at nothing, cocks and pussies used until they couldn’t even cry out.

It was everywhere, cocks slick with drool, pussies gaping and leaking, breasts smeared with cum, asses red and swollen from spanking or fucking, the sounds of pleasure and humiliation rising and falling, laughter and moans and begging all swirling together in the morning air. The entire town was a living mural of sin, painted by goblin hands and goblin cocks, a fever dream of domination and surrender that never ended, never slowed, only grew more casual, more brutal, more shameless as the sun climbed higher.

And I ran through it, barely seeing, my mind full of Syli and the ache of her absence, the pain in her eye, the hurt in her voice.

A flash of petite green body and golden eyes caught my gaze as I reached the inn, Yvara, standing at the doorway, her blouse rumpled, her cheeks flushed with the afterglow of sleep and too many orgasms. She saw me and her lips curled in a lazy smile.

“Morning, handsome,” she called, her voice syrup-sweet, one hand resting on her hip. “Did you enjoy our night?”

I barely managed a nod as I hurried past her, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Come back for breakfast!” she called after me, the teasing edge in her voice unmistakable. “I saved you a–”

But I was already gone, my boots echoing on the steps.

At the top of the stairs, I fumbled the key from my pocket, the metal slick in my sweaty palm. The moment the lock clicked, I threw the door open, heart hammering. The room was quiet. Still. The bed was just as I’d left it, blankets rumpled, the scent of Syli’s body lingering in the air.

But she wasn’t there.

“Syli?” I called, scanning the room, searching for any sign of her.

Silence.

The blankets on the bed were twisted, a faint imprint of her curled form pressed into the pillow, but she was gone. My heart kicked harder. I crossed the room, scanning for any sign of her. Her collar lay coiled on the dresser, right where I’d left it. The washbasin was untouched, the water still clear. But the window was cracked open, the morning breeze rustling the curtains.

I grabbed the windowsill, leaning out, scanning the street below. There was nothing behind the inn, just the wooden fence and the forest beyond. I looked left and right, searching.