Goblin's Guilty Pleasure

Chapter 1: The Fortnightly Feast

Skell hunched over the cluttered workbench in Elara’s dimly lit apothecary, his gnarled green fingers sorting through dried herbs with a precision that belied his grotesque appearance. His bulbous nose twitched at the scent of lavender and brimstone, but his mind was elsewhere. Every fortnight, his payment wasn’t gold or trinkets—it was something far more intoxicating. And today was the day.

The door creaked open, and Elara strutted in, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders, barely contained by the low-cut black robe that hugged her voluptuous frame. Behind her, Laya, her equally curvaceous girlfriend, sauntered with a smirk, her dark curls bouncing with every confident step. The air thickened with their presence, a potent mix of magic and raw, unapologetic femininity.

'Well, Skell, you’ve been a good little gremlin this week,' Elara purred, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she leaned over the counter, her ample cleavage practically spilling out. 'Haven’t botched a single potion. I think you’ve earned your... bonus.'

Skell’s beady eyes widened, a dribble of drool already forming at the corner of his cracked lips. 'Y-yes, Mistress Elara. I been good. Real good,' he stammered, his heart pounding not from desire for their bodies, but for the spectacle they promised.

Laya chuckled, her sharp gaze cutting through him like a blade. 'Oh, look at him, El. He’s practically panting already, and we haven’t even started. Should we make him wait a bit longer? Tease the poor wretch?'

'No, no, please!' Skell squeaked, his claws gripping the edge of the workbench. 'I been waitin’ two whole weeks. Don’t make it worse!'

Elara smirked, exchanging a knowing glance with Laya as they moved toward Skell’s tiny, straw-stuffed bed in the corner of the room. 'Fine, goblin. But remember the rules—no touching, no joining. You just sit there with your creepy little heart eyes and enjoy the show.'

'Wouldn’t dream of it, Mistress,' Skell muttered, scrambling to perch on a rickety stool, his gaze already glued to them as they climbed onto the bed. His breath hitched as Laya’s fingers deftly untied the laces of Elara’s robe, revealing the creamy swell of her breasts, heavy and begging for attention.

'Mmm, you look good enough to eat,' Laya teased, her voice low and sultry as she cupped Elara’s curves, her thumbs brushing over the hardening peaks. 'Shall we give our little voyeur what he’s been drooling for?'

'Oh, let’s,' Elara replied with a wicked grin, arching her back to push herself closer to Laya’s waiting mouth. 'But let’s make it slow. Let him suffer a little.'

Skell’s eyes were practically popping out of his head, his drool now a steady stream as Laya’s lips closed around Elara’s nipple, her tongue flicking with deliberate, torturous precision. Elara let out a soft, exaggerated moan, her fingers threading through Laya’s hair, pulling her closer. 'That’s it, love. Suck harder. Make him wish he could feel this.'

'Oh, I bet he’s sweating already,' Laya mumbled against Elara’s skin, her eyes flicking to Skell with a mischievous glint. 'Look at him, El. He’s a mess. Bet he’s never been this horny in his miserable life.'

Skell groaned, his claws digging into the stool, unable to tear his eyes away as the two women continued their teasing dance of lips and tongues, their breasts pressed together in a display of pure, unadulterated lust. The air was thick with their taunts and the wet sounds of their play, driving him to the edge of madness. He didn’t want them—not in that way—but the sight of their mouths on each other, the sheer erotic power of it, had him trembling with a need he couldn’t name.

And as Elara threw her head back, her moans growing louder, Skell knew this was only the beginning of the torment they had planned for him.