**Chapter 1: The Fortnightly Feast**
Skell hunched over his workbench in the dim, herb-scented lair of Elara’s enchanted cottage, his gnarled green fingers sorting through a pile of shriveled mandrake roots. His bulbous nose twitched at the faint whiff of lavender and lust that always lingered in the air. He wasn’t much to look at—a scrawny goblin with a face like a squashed potato—but he had a secret that made his crooked heart race. Every fortnight, his payment for toiling under the fiery-haired witch Elara wasn’t gold or grub. No, it was something far more intoxicating.
The door to the back room creaked open, and Elara sauntered in, her crimson locks cascading over her shoulders, barely contained by the low-cut black robe that hugged her voluptuous frame. Her emerald eyes glinted with mischief as she leaned against the doorframe, one hand on her hip, the other twirling a strand of hair. Behind her, Laya, her equally curvaceous lover with raven-black tresses, smirked, her lips painted a dangerous shade of burgundy.
“Well, well, Skell,” Elara purred, her voice dripping with honeyed taunt. “Another two weeks of your pitiful potion-mixing. Ready for your little reward, you drooling gremlin?”
Skell’s yellowed eyes flicked up, his heart already thumping like a war drum. He wiped a bead of sweat from his warty brow, trying to play it cool, though his crooked grin betrayed him. “I’ve earned it, haven’t I? Slavin’ away for you two while you giggle and grope each other all day. Least you can do is give me a show.”
Laya laughed, a sharp, sultry sound that cut through the air like a blade. “Oh, we’ll give you a show, goblin. But don’t get any funny ideas. You’re just the audience, not the star. Keep those grubby paws to yourself.”
“Wouldn’t dream of touchin’,” Skell rasped, though his gaze was already hungry, locked on the way Elara’s robe strained against her bust. “Just wanna watch you two feast. That’s all the gold I need.”
Elara arched a brow, stepping closer to Skell’s cluttered bed in the corner of the room, the very stage for their fortnightly ritual. “Feast, huh? You’ve got a filthy little mind for such an ugly critter. But fine, let’s make you drool.” She turned to Laya, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “Shall we, darling? Let’s give this wretch something to dream about for the next two weeks.”
Laya’s smirk widened as she slid her hands up Elara’s sides, her fingers teasing the edge of the witch’s robe. “Oh, I’m starving for you, love. Let’s make him sweat.”
Skell shuffled to the edge of his stool, his heart-eyed stare unblinking as the two women climbed onto his creaky bed, their laughter sharp and teasing. Elara shrugged off her robe, revealing the creamy swell of her breasts, her nipples already hard with anticipation. Laya wasted no time, leaning in with a wicked glint in her eye, her lips hovering just above Elara’s skin.
“Look at him, Laya,” Elara said with a mocking chuckle, glancing at Skell as she arched her back, offering herself up. “He’s practically panting already. Poor little goblin, so horny for something he’ll never have.”
Skell’s tongue lolled out, a thin line of drool slipping down his chin. “Keep talkin’, witch. I’m lovin’ every word.”
Laya’s lips finally descended, closing around Elara’s nipple with a slow, deliberate suck that made the witch gasp—a sound that hit Skell like a lightning bolt. His claws gripped the edge of the stool, his breath ragged as he watched Laya’s tongue flick and tease, Elara’s fingers tangling in her lover’s dark hair.
“Gods, you’re good at that,” Elara breathed, her voice thick with pleasure as she shot Skell a taunting smirk. “Bet you wish you could feel this, don’t you, gremlin? Too bad. This is all mine.”
Skell groaned, his eyes glazed over, sweat beading on his forehead as the air grew thick with the heat of their teasing. The sight of Laya’s mouth working Elara’s breast, the wet sounds of their play, had him trembling on the edge of something he couldn’t name. The tension was building, the room pulsing with forbidden heat, and he knew this was just the beginning of their torturous, delicious game.
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