Princess Constance Meets the Goblin

He turned his eyes to the princess herself, his simple thought processes taking in her physical beauty while his more basic faculties became quite enamored of her utter femininity. Princess Clara Constance would have been seen as a lady of unsurpassed beauty in all of the lands that the goblin had caroused, for she was smooth of skin, long of limb, and her hair shimmered brightly even in the guttering lights of the pavilion's brazier. Her eyes, so bright, so alert despite her aversion to eye-contact, spoke of a fearsome intelligence that lurked within their blue depths. She smelled like a royal, too. All lilacs and lavenders and exotic spices worked through her skin and hair.

Though he could only comprehend it in the most animalistic of ways, he did notice that the princess had a tendency to buckle inwards under scrutiny, like a newborn lamb unused to the light of the sun.

'Why here? And why the armor?' he asked, pointing with a crooked claw, 'You gonna joust with the prince too?'

'Ah... well...' Princess Clara hesitated, before finally admitting, 'my father had instructed me to help the alliance in whatever capacity I judge is reasonable and serves the Constance household honor. I know not why but... I suppose a queen who can f-fight a-and use a sword is... m-more valuable than simply one who c-can bear and raise children.'

That a king could even order his only daughter to war in one of the deadliest conflicts in recent history all for the sake of preserving the honor and dignity of his people showed how desperate their situation had become. True to Constance form, however, the king himself, and despite his advanced age, was in another theater of war, leading what paltry contribution of men and arms his kingdom could afford. Of course Princess Clara made no mention of this, she had besmirched the Constance royal house enough by simply speaking of her being bartered off for the sake of extending the Constance lineage and nothing more.

At least, that was what Princess Clara Constance felt what she was doing. The reality was much, much more grim. The demonic hordes had come in such numbers and exhibited such ferocity that no single household was spared the sacrifice of blood, and the grinding war had demanded its due in flesh, for the scions of Fairpeach were themselves leading their own armies in defiance of the evil that inexorably ground its way forward to the heartlands of the Five.

Unspoken and merely understood by all, the luxuries of royal tradition were set aside for the greater need for survival, and all the noble lineages of the Five had to prove to their peoples why they were worthy of loyalty beyond the title of king or queen, and Princess Clara Constance was one such instance of royalty who would not shame her people's trust and faith in her family's name and thrust herself boldly into the growing darkness to become a guiding light in the shadows that befell their lands. Princess Clara Constance was barely of age, yet honor demanded its due in blood and sweat.

The goblin burst into a loud fit of laughter at that, holding his stomach down as he began to roll uncontrollably on the princess' bed, much to Princess Clara's embarrassment and dismay, 'W-why are you laughing? Stop laughing this instant!'

'No offense, sugartits,' the goblin wheezed when he had calmed down enough to start speaking, 'but you know how to handle a sword?' he pulled out his hilariously outsized blade, its length almost too comical compared to the goblin's size, and swung it a few times and causing the ancient, battered blade to whistle, 'This is my sword,' he said, proudly, 'I call it Executor. I stole it from one of House Tallisaude's bastard preening sons.'

'I do, and I have had the best tutors,' the princess deftly ducked and weaved from the goblin's careless swings, 'and have been trained to handle a blade since I can remember, but if I do not satisfy the Prince Erik... th-then...'

The princess looked deeply embarrassed to be speaking of this, almost ashamed, and her face was flushed crimson as she was obviously flustered from confessing such a shameful truth. She expected a rebuke from the goblin, some words to confirm the low status of her lineage, or the worthlessness of her name yet when he spoke, his voice gravelly and low, he said something she was wholly not expecting.

'I can help you with that, princess,' the goblin said, his crooked smile baring heavily yellowed teeth between dark green lips. On his features the grin looked absolutely ghoulish, 'I can teach you how to make the prince fall for you and that he'll want to keep you after you finish doing to him what I teach you.'

'Truly? You can... you can teach me?' the princess' eyes lit up, a furtive smile daring to spread across her features, 'I could never impose upon you but... I'd be forever in your debt. I h-hope you'll excuse my l-lack of manners, but what is the lord goblin's name?'

'Tellok.'

'I-I shall refer to him as Master Tellok from... from now on.'

'Master Tellok. I quite like the sound of that.' The goblin's crooked smile cracked his features once more as he seemed to mentally savor his newfound title.

'I look fo-forward to learning from you, Master Tellok. You will find that I am an eager learner!'

'It won't be easy,' the goblin nodded, his demeanor suddenly sage, 'but you have to do exactly as I say if you want to please the prince and become his queen, but when I am done teaching you he will never, ever want to be apart from you ever again.'

'I'll do it. A-anything. What ever it is. I'll do it.' Princess Clara straightened up, as if preparing herself for insurmountable odds, squaring her shoulders defiantly against the petty tides of destiny. She would face this challenge and conquer it like the heroic figures of myths long gone. She would take his teachings to heart with the same gusto that she devoured the knowledge within the endless books and manuscripts that had become her de facto family. This she swore silently.

'Very well, princess,' the goblin smiled broadly, the claw-like hand around her ass giving a firm and assertive squeeze, 'Do you know what the word "fucking" means?'

***

'I-I am not so certain about this, Master Tellok, I m-mustn't.' Princess Clara protested, yet she found herself not believing her own words. Her heart was a-flutter and the heat within her body was rising as fast as the goblin's cock. She couldn't help but stare at its mass despite her best efforts not to, and her hands very much wanted to touch the knobby thing against all her conscious wishes.

If he looked like a dangerous fellow while wearing pitiful plates of looted tin as armor over disheveled rags that barely passed for clothing, his form was absolutely deadly when free from the shackles of his rags.

The goblin had removed his damp and stinky clothes and revealed a compact body riddled with old battle scars on a frame that looked to be coiled as tightly as a wine cask. Even in the dim light she could see the goblin's powerful musculature beneath his green skin and the tiniest motions that looked every bit as lethal and economic as his persona suggested. Danger came off him in waves, from the way his oddly shaped pupils constantly flitted about, to the motions of his limbs that looked to be constantly ready to land a lethal blow in anger. His palms and knuckles looked to be thickly calloused and he bore the dark scars over his flesh with feral pride and subtly tilting his body in angles she was sure to see his badges of war.

She did not know what to feel about that, yet her body clearly did, and, like the swelling tides of the flowing sea, the princess' arousal came like the savage crashing of ocean waves upon her mind's pristine shores.

'First lesson. Never question your king.' The goblin hissed, his voice a sibilant whisper even as he pointed at the ground before her and she gingerly padded her way to stand where he pointed, 'Now kneel.'

She did so, lowering herself obediently, if somewhat ponderously, and looked to him with a hazed expression clouding her eyes. On her knees she was just at his height even if he stood up straight. It was somehow oddly fitting in a perverse, poetic way that she could not quite explain.

The loud drum of rain had begun to patter on her pavilion's canvas sheeting sometime ago, the sound of water a welcome and interesting addition to the gutter and pop of her pavilion's coal brazier that the princess felt made her humble tent feel just a little bit cozier.

Tellok wore a look of satisfaction and bold lust on his face even as she noticed him drinking the sight of her barely-clothed form with such greed and eagerness that even she felt the faint echoes of his arousal permeating into her mind and body, causing her loins to warm and feel a deep and profound need. Or was it all hers? Princess Clara could not be so sure anymore. Her body was taking her through the experiences of early sexual sensations and she had no idea how to handle it except follow the goblin's more experienced lead.

Of course, the noticing was not all one-sided, and the goblin as well observed the princess drinking in the sight of his own body. He did not say anything, yet instinct drove him to continue showing off, to pursue actions that his animalistic mind knew would drive the princess deeper into arousal and enchantment and it was something that was clearly working.

The goblin stalked to her side, his movements lumbering yet economical, before disappearing from her view, 'Keep your eyes looking forward,' and despite the driving rain drowning out all but the most forceful or deliberate of noises within the pavilion, she could still tell where he was through the immense warmth that came off his body, 'if you want to be a good wench and please your king.'

Princess Clara felt his hands slide beneath her armpits and she inhaled a deep breath to still her shaking and maybe slow down the relentless pounding of her heart. She glanced down at the tight white tunic she wore - an heirloom in and of itself found in a sealed box by treasure hunters who had dug deep in ruins ancient beyond belief - as it was pulled up and felt rough hands groping her breasts and scraping her hard nipples. That made her shudder in pleasure and she bit down a soft moan, fighting the wholly mesmerizing sensations the goblin left her sensitive nipples just from that small amount of contact. She could feel him pressed tight against her back, his nose pressed into the side of her neck, his hot breath - rancid with ale and his animal stink - washing over her fair skin as he inhaled of her unmistakably feminine scent. It was all so intoxicating for both the princess and the little goblin.

She could feel a hard and stiff mass pressed into her spine, hot, heavy, and throbbing, and her mind conjured up all sorts of vague images and scenarios that she found herself indulging with wanton abandon, the princess barely able to handle what she found to be lustful anticipation. She actually looked forward to this, her decisions and indecisions bound up in his lead and inexorably ending in... something she could not quite know what. Yet, like destiny unfolding, she hurtled headlong into the end like a boat drawn along a strong current.

The goblin stretched her tunic beyond what a normal wool tunic could take as it was pulled over her head, it made from an ancient form of fabric that could no longer be replicated, and so it retained its shape even as it was removed, freeing her large breasts with a heavy bounce that caused her back to buckle just a bit from the sheer momentum of her breasts dropping.

Those same hands cupped her enormous breasts before toying and rolling her nipples between calloused fingers, actions that sent electricity up and down her spine and causing her to choke out moan that sounded so lewd in her ears. He hefted each breast with both hands, each heavy mass spilling out of his hands even as he gave them eager squeezes.

She made to conceal her breasts with one arm despite the pleasure she felt yet the goblin slapped her hand away, 'Don't cover them. Let me see.' He clutched her tunic in his right hand before he held it up to his large, crooked nose and inhaled deep. He shuddered in ecstasy at that, and Princess Clara could see from the corner of her eye his large, throbbing cock engorge itself just a little bit more, if that were even possible.

'Straighten your back, wench, and push your chest out,' the goblin grunted, 'Yes, like that. Now squeeze your breasts together. Hands on your lap.'

Princess Clara did her best to follow these peculiar instructions, her mind fumbling at every one of his words and she struggled to make sense of what was happening yet at the same time she couldn't deny that she was feeling the further hints of excitement and eagerness forming in her heart along with the growing arousal she felt at being placed in such a vulnerable position. Her body bare to be seen and judged, the growing need's genesis coming from that first bare-handed touch against her sensitive breasts and spurred along by forceful pinches to her now-erect nipples. The goblin was not gentle about toying with those erect nips, either, tugging and twisting the sensitive buds that wrenched her perceptions sideways, her mind tossed into a landscape of bliss and smothered in a torrent of unfamiliar pleasures of which she knew she'd never, ever tire.

Without saying a word, the goblin pulled his hands back and stalked to her front, dropping her tunic unceremoniously to the floor and grabbed a handful of her breasts in each hand and began to mash and knead them rather forcefully, causing her to bite down a large gasp and squeak, if only barely. She could feel the rough texture of the goblin's calloused skin, driving her arousal up to heights she'd never experienced before, and she let loose a loud moan of pleasure. Her nipples, long untouched and practically forgotten by the studious princess, became willing victims to the lascivious goblin's lustful touch, and the princess began to pant and moan under her breath as she discovered what it felt to have these lewd portions of her body handled in such a lewd manner by such a peculiar creature.

Princess Clara felt the tendrils of embarrassment at having her breasts groped, and she suddenly felt the need to speak for her moans had become a bit too obvious and explicit, 'Y-you... like my breasts...?' She asked, tilting her head back and letting her mouth hang a little bit open from the panting and aroused noises she was making.

The goblin nodded with a grin at that and leaned over to take one large and dark nipple into his mouth, noisily sucking on it and eliciting a further louder, yet stifled, moan from the shuddering princess who was by now close to buckling in on herself like an off-balance tower on the verge of collapse, 'I-I... have always been ashamed of... them...' the princess said, biting her lower lip even as the goblin tweaked her other nipple between two eager fingers, sometimes alternating between sucking one nipple and rolling the other between his fingers but always flicking his tongue over the erect nubs and tracing an almost-black tongue around the circumference of the princess' puffy areola.

'Why?' The goblin leaned back, taking a moment to wipe the drool from his chin even as his hands painfully squeezed both large breasts, 'They're beautiful.'

'W-well... my m-maidservant had smaller breasts, and they're...' Princess Clara took a moment to search for the right word to use, and she bit down on her lip and looked away, her cheeks red from arousal as much as embarrassment, '...perkier...'

That guilt. That embarrassment. It was lamentable for a lady as beautiful as Princess Clara to harbor such shame and guilt in an otherwise attractive and perfectly functional body. It was, however, obvious and plain to see to anyone with an ounce of empathy that this shame was a burden that had weighed down on her shoulders - both literally and figuratively - since her bosom had started to grow to monumental proportions.

Of course the goblin did not see it that way. His mind, so much closer, so much more intimate with its animal core, perceived the princess' child-rearing hips, so pronounced with just the right amount of pads of fat, as having no problems delivering multiple litters of green-skinned babies, and majestic breasts that could produce more than enough milk for a litter of ten babies with ease and nurse them to become strong, hardy, and cunning goblins that would continue his lineage.

'Flies on shit, princess, you have the best tits I've ever seen!' Exclaimed the goblin before he dove back in and buried his face into her cleavage, his tongue darting deep into the press of boobs surrounding his face and using both hands to press those titanic tits into his cheeks. The goblin inhaled deep, shuddering in absolute ecstasy as he savored the princess' feminine scent, her natural pheromones driving the goblin mad with lust and he sucked both nipples into his greedy mouth and began to nurse sloppily.

Princess Clara was suddenly taken aback when the jolt of having both nipples suckled on caused her to moan out loud, the sound absolutely unladylike in every sense. It shocked her, and the utter novelty of it all made her head spin in a good way. She felt elation course through her heart, genuine and deep, and this goblin's appreciation of something she felt so insecure about made her giddy, her defenses relaxing just that little bit more and causing her reservations to evaporate in the face of such eager warmth and enthusiasm.

'I love your tits.' The goblin paused a moment from sucking both nipples at once, smearing his sticky saliva over the curves of each tit and planting sloppy kisses over and under each, before going right back to helping himself to eagerly nursing on those large, hard nipples.

The blonde, virgin princess, the entirety of her being bathed in a bone-deep sexual arousal, felt her eyes drawn once more to the goblin's massive prick, and she felt a moment's urge not to touch it and yet touch it she did. She took a hold of it in one of her slender hands, the glossy and veiny skin that was pulled taut over the various knots and bumps that lined its crown at odds with the large, wrinkly balls that hung low and heavy beneath this fine example of goblin masculinity.

She had absolutely no prior experience to compare, but the goblin's prick impressed her on so many levels both conscious and unconscious and she could not say why for any reason but it's effect was incredibly profound. Its warmth, its form, its everything... they all awakened something deep within her, a part of her she never knew she possessed, yet something she realized was always with her and now that it had begun to blossom it would always be with her until she breathed her last.

The goblin let out a pleased sound as she held its magnificence, her eyes spying a cloudy bead of fluid building on the end and she used her thumb to spread it all over the throbbing head and causing the goblin to let out another groan of pleasure as he gorged himself on her generously large breasts.