The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

That evening in the great Mountains, the sky roared with the fury of dragons and breathed icy needles down upon the craggy peaks. The wind tore at those scrubby plants that had unshrewdly grown an inch too far from their roots. The flurrying snow bit and tore at exposed skin, blinded the eyes, weighed down furs and coats. Every footstep sank through crunching snow and slippery ice. The only earth visible was that of the jagged cliff faces, gray and muddy stone cold enough to catch a traveler’s tongue.

And through the fury of the blizzard, a man in his early twenties stumbled across a narrow ledge and tried to ignore the chasm directly to his left. He was tightly bundled in furs and silks, every part of his face covered save a pair of piercing dark brown eyes. A gleaming iron scythe was strapped to his back, along with several bags and a heavy backpack. He cut a stocky build, though to a stranger looking on, it would be difficult to tell where the furs began and the man began—or if he was human at all.

Alrek usually liked snow just fine.

Tonight, he found he didn’t much care for it.

Thunder rumbled overhead. He rolled his eyes. “Tell it to someone who cares, Sky.” His teeth chattered with every word.

As he spoke, his foot slipped on a pebble half-secured within the ice, and he lunged forward to grab at a stout sagebrush.

His gloved hands locked around the sagebrush’s base just as one leg slid over the side of the ledge. For a moment, he dangled.

The sagebrush groaned, but held. It had been rooted in this cliffside for many years, and clearly had no intention of giving way just yet. It did take the liberty of dumping its load of snow on Alrek’s head, however.

The young adventurer pulled himself back up onto the ledge and hurried forward, hugging the cliff face. A moment later, he was off the ledge, and back on ‘solid’ ground.

The cold gnawed at his joints, despite the layering. He couldn’t stop shivering. He was shivering so hard it hurt worse than the cold. Worse, his fingers were getting numb. He’d only barely grabbed that sagebrush—his fingers had turned disobedient, lazy, inflexible. And his eyes stung horribly, despite his efforts to protect them from the searing cold winds.

So badly hampered was his vision that he nearly didn’t notice the light off in the distance. When he did notice it, the adventurer stopped in his tracks.

Beneath his scarf, he grinned. Well, then, Wind, he thought with bitter glee, hurrying to clamber up towards the source of the glow, seems like we’re just about done screwing around for today.

Alrek was a young adventurer—as a matter of fact, he had only been adventuring for about a month since his departure from home—and he was not yet particularly wise to the wiles of fey. Had he been, he might perhaps have been more hesitant about following a strange light off the beaten path just as night began to fall.

Fortunately for Alrek, though, this particular light just so happened to be genuine.

He leaped onto a covered wooden porch, groaning with relief as some of the wind’s roar ebbed from his aching ears, as his boots finally contacted fully solid ground, and huddled against the door. The light was coming from a small cabin built partially into the mountainside, practically buried in snow.

Through the nearby window, he saw the dim glow of an oil lantern. It looked like some kind of tavern. There was a fireplace in there, sadly unlit. He huddled against the door and wrapped his arms around himself, shivering against the wind.

Mountain Folk had rules about hospitality, and those rules varied by clan. Alrek knew the snærið always welcomed visitors who came unarmed, but he guessed that the owner of this house was of the gestrisnið—the people who kept away from large settlements, the hermits and rangers and innkeepers of the Mountains. The gestrisnið were a hospitable lot, but they had their own rituals, and Alrek only knew a few of them.

For instance, it was important to have a gift.

Alrek certainly didn’t possess much to give. His first solo dungeon crawl had been a disaster. He looked mournfully down at the small paper bag parcel he had tied to his belt. Tied tightly with string, these two little treasures were all he had to show for all of this.

But he would freeze to death otherwise.

Perhaps he could part with—

The door he was leaning against abruptly swung inward, and he fell backwards with a whump.

“Oh!” said a light, high-pitched voice. “Oh, Stars! I’m so sorry!”

Alrek stared up, head spinning from its slight bump into the stone floor. Luckily, his furs and bags had cushioned most of the fall for him.

He rolled over onto his hands and knees, staring up at the strange little woman with wary eyes, and reached up and tugged the scarf from his face so he could speak freely.

Alrek’s stubble had grown thick and dark since he’d set out, and he now had something approaching a beard. He brushed a bit of snow and ice from it before speaking. “What are you?”

His words came out brusque and blunt. That was pretty much normal. Alrek was never quite sure how else to address people.

Especially not people who looked like this.

Alrek had seen a fair variety of skin tones. He had met plainsfolk from down south with skin the color of fresh butter and hair that glinted in the sun like the summer fields. He had seen the umber-skinned merchants come by on occasion from the distant northern jungles, come to trade their strange wares and technologies (or, occasionally, to offer sermons and aid) to the savage southerners. He had met a brown-skinned woman from the Northern Isles, a Toxin Ranger with a rolling accent that plinked like a spider’s legs upon webbing, and encountered bards from the Wild East with light skin the same color as their bizarre brass instruments.

He had never in his life, however, met someone green before.

She was short. Even shorter than Alrek, and Alrek wasn’t exactly tall. She stood about a foot shorter than him, but made up for it with a plump, lush figure. Her plump dark green lips were pursed at the moment, as if in thought. Her eyes glinted a lovely rosy-pink, complimented by thick, pronounced lashes that fluttered every now and then as if trying to dislodge something. The simple barmaid’s dress she wore almost seemed to caress her nubile form, complimenting her softness, emphasizing her prodigious curves. Her hair was done in a sleek bouffant, dark and glistening in the candlelight, offset by a pair of long, pointed ears and also she was extremely green.

She blinked up at him, eyelashes fluttering. “Um... oh, well, what a question. Maybe I should be asking you that!”

Alrek blinked. Then he realized he was still packed tightly in furs, and she was being somewhat literal. He groaned, getting to his feet. “I’m... human. Just here to get warm.” He hesitated in the doorway. “Uh... I don’t have a gift, exactly—”

“Oh, no!” She tittered. “Not to worry, sir, I haven’t got any sort of need for gifts. Just come on in!” She beckoned hurriedly, and he realized she was probably eager to get the door closed against the wind.

He stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him. It was chilly inside, too, but at least there was no wind. Just ominous creaking from the boards outside, and an infrequent rattling at the windows.

A single rose-glass oil lantern illuminated a rustic old tavern common room. It was abandoned now, as far as Alrek could tell, but stairs towards the back appeared to lead to a second floor—built into the mountainside, just as he’d suspected from outside.

“Is this an inn?” he asked, frowning.

“Why, yes. Welcome to the Gobble Inn.” The green woman put a hand to her plump lips to stifle another giggle. “Would you mind letting me see who I just invited inside?”

Alrek hesitated. But the request was reasonable, especially seeing as he was being allowed inside for free. He reached up and reluctantly unpeeled the scarf, causing little flecks of frost to sprinkle onto the floor. “Are you the only... uh, person here?”

“Mm.” She blinked up at him, a distant smile on her face as she looked him over. She licked her lips, then gave a start. “Oh! Um, yes, there’s the owner and my two coworkers. All sleeping. It’s late.” She bounced slightly on her feet. “I’m a goblin maid. A goblin barmaid, in fact.” She winked. “A pleasure.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Alrek rubbed his arms tenderly. “Well, thanks for letting me in.”

“My name’s Nanne.” She curtseyed.

Alrek hesitated. “Alrek.” He nodded slightly towards a table by the window. “I don’t need to stay the night or anything. Just wait out the blizzard. That okay?”

“Oh, of course!” She blinked, seeming caught off-guard. “I mean, you can stay the night as well. We wouldn’t mind, as long as... well, as long as you’re willing to buy something to eat.”

Alrek grimaced. “I haven’t got anything to trade. I just wanna get warm.” He turned and walked over to the table.

“Oh.” Nanne sounded slightly put out. “Well, if you can’t afford it, why don’t I give you something on the house? I hate to see someone in my inn go hungry. Especially someone so handsome.”

“I don’t want charity,” he said quickly, avoiding her gaze. He knew his face was reddening slightly, and he hoped the subtext was clear: He didn’t want anything else, either. He hoped she would take that hint. She was very attractive, and in his experience, very attractive people were used to having their offers accepted.

“Are you sure?” She frowned, walking over to his table and laying a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t want—”

She blinked as he jerked away from her hand.

Alrek did not like being touched.

If Nanne’s feelings were hurt, though, she didn’t show it. She just gave a musical little laugh. “Oh, you must excuse me. We can be a little touchy sometimes, we goblin maids.”

“Right. It’s fine.” Alrek grimaced, shrugging off his pack and bags onto the floor.

“Would you at least let me light the fireplace?”

Alrek hesitated, looking over at the fireplace with an internal longing. He rubbed his numb fingers unconsciously. “Just bring the lamp over,” the adventurer said gruffly. “And you can go to bed after hat. Really. Don’t worry about me.”

But Nanne seemed quite unwilling to take the hint that he wanted to be left alone. The barmaid skipped over, retrieved the lamp, and brought it back over to the table. She set it down in front of him, glimmering softly, and patted his cheek (he again jerked away with a scowl). “You’re really not hungry?”

Alrek chewed his lower lip. “I haven’t got anything to trade. No money, no mountain tears.”

“Well, I don’t need anything like that.” Nanne sat down across from him, a wide, open smile on her face. The rosy light of the lamp cast odd shadows over her green skin. Alrek avoided her eyes uncomfortably, but he couldn’t help but be endeared to that easygoing smile. “Honestly, Alrek, it gets dreary up here. Few come by, and there’s not much the other barmaids and owner know that I don’t. Haven’t you got any stories?”

Alrek hesitated again.

“What’s the cheapest thing you’ve got?” he asked, his voice low, as if speaking too loudly would announce this compromise to the world and the door would immediately break down beneath a stampede of charitable innkeepers.

She batted her eyelashes. “I’ve got a delicious loaf of goblin bread in the oven. It’s as sweet as a goblin’s laugh!” As if to provide a sample, she giggled.

He nodded. “Okay. I... guess I can tell a story.” Alrek was actually pretty good at stories. He’d used to tell them to his younger peers. And tonight, he had an easy story to tell.

“Wonderful!” She clapped her hands in delight, then bounced back to her feet and rushed over to the kitchen. Her ass wiggled as she skipped, and he tried not to stare. Something about the rosy light of the flickering lamp seemed to accentuate every curve.

Alrek had a moment to form the story in his mind, organizing his thoughts and trials from the previous few days. He would lead with a basic explanation of the dungeon, then delve into his arrival and go over the main three rooms he’d been in. Probably leave out the treasure, though, just to be safe.

As Alrek waited, he took off his gloves, adjusted himself slightly beneath the fur coats, and warmed his hands by the lamp. He could see his breath, very faintly, against the glimmering pink light. It was interesting, watching it swirl, looking in the lamplight like thick, pink fog.

After a minute or so, Nanne returned. She now carried a plate bearing a steaming loaf of a sweetbread of some sort. Alrek’s stomach rumbled as he saw the reddish loaf—it looked sort of like the moist, cakey beet breads they’d occasionally baked back home.

“Here you go!” she chirped, setting the bread in front of him next to the light. The loaf was pre-sliced, and she daintily took one slice in her hand and, unprompted, raised it to his mouth. “Try a bite?”

Alrek firmly took the slice from her, not about to allow himself to be handfed. “Thanks,” he grunted.

He took a bite. It was surprisingly good—sweet and moist like the beet bread, with a spice to it he couldn’t quite name. He frowned and took another bite. “’s good.”

She preened. “Oh, thank you!” She sat down in the chair opposite him, cupping her chin in her hands as she regarded him happily. “So, the story?”

“Right.” He swallowed. He looked around, and saw a small tray of softened butter. It seemed to have little bits of herbs mixed into it. He curiously dipped his slice of bread in as he spoke—the butter practically dissolved into it. “I came here to find the Amber Tombs. They’re a... one of the old dungeons the dopterines built.”

He took a big bite out of the buttered bread and chewed. His eyes widened.

Holy shit.

This was some really, really good bread. It melted on his tongue, moist and delectable. His mouth watered, and he found himself rapidly polishing off the slice. The butter was just slightly salty, with hints of... rosemary? Thyme? Something floral he couldn’t place. Alrek didn’t exactly know spices.

Nanne was watching him with a smile as he ate. “You mean one of the prisons.”

“Mm-hm.” Alrek nodded, still chewing.

“So you were looking for fiends?”

“Mm-mm.” He shook his head as he swallowed. “There’s s’posed to be a tree at the dungeon’s center. Stories of the snærið say the tree drips with ‘heaven’s light’. Brings revelations, ‘the secrets to eternal satisfaction of all desires’, that sorta thing. Worth more than diamonds.”

“Oh, how lovely.” She giggled, nodding encouragingly for him to continue. But at least part of her mind seemed to be elsewhere. “Can I interest you in something to drink? Maybe some nice mulled wine?”

Alrek shifted to suppress a shiver. A hot drink sounded pretty nice right now. But if he got drunk now, he’d be stuck here for the night. And his tolerance was pitiful.

“I’m good,” he said, even as she got up to go to the kitchen. He took up another slice of bread and ate it quickly. “Anyways,” he said, though a mouthful of food, “place was full of demons. Wards. I bar—” He finally swallowed. “barely made it out.”

He rubbed his eyes. He’d gotten a bit ahead of himself in the story. Damn, he was getting sleepy. The journey had taxed him more than he’d realized, and in the soft, flickering rosy glow, it felt so easy to lean back in his chair and relax...

He finished his third slice of buttered bread, licking his lips. Looking over, he saw that Nanne was coming back to him, swinging her hips with every step. He blinked slowly, then realized he was staring and looked away. His eyes momentarily settled on her jiggling tits before he forced himself to make eye contact.

Those limpid pink eyes looked almost joyous. Maybe a little amused. “Sounds like you’ve had a rough time of things,” she said, reaching forward with a napkin. Alrek realized too late she was going to wipe his mouth, and winced as she dabbed tenderly at his lips to clean him of crumbs.

It didn’t feel worth pitching a fit, but he... wished she wouldn’t do that. Even if her hand and handkerchief smelled like roses.

Roses! That was what the spices in the butter reminded him of. Rose blooms. Sweet and rich. And that was the smell coming from the wine pitcher she now bore.

“So tell me, Alrek,” the buxom barmaid said, twirling a narrow wine glass between her nimble fingers, “what happened then?”

“Well, I...” His eyes were drawn to the glass, which softly reflected the lamp’s light as it spun. “I... what happened, see...” He quickly looked away, hoping his blush wouldn’t be apparently beneath the red lighting. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“Oh, you poor thing.” She tutted. “You’ve had such a long day.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, reaching down and taking another slice of bread. He practically inhaled this piece, trying to savor the richness.

Unfortunately, his mouth being full gave Nanne free reign to talk over him. “Maybe you’re fine,” she said impatiently, “but even I can see you’re freezing! You’re losing track of your lovely story, too. Come on. Let me put a fire in the hearth.” She smiled. “You can just lie back next to the fire and warm yourself up while you finish the tale. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“No need,” he said quickly, scowling. He was accepting a free meal—a meal for a story, anyways—but that was it. Alrek was determined not to depend on others. Besides, he didn’t even see any logs in the fireplace—she’d have to go out to the woodshed to get some, and he certainly couldn’t ask his host for that much in this weather. Alrek was rude, yes, but he wasn’t a bad guest. There was a difference.

Nanne’s eyes fell downwards, as though disappointed. She bit her lip. Alrek noticed her teeth were just so slightly sharp. “Then... oh, please accept just a glass of mulled wine! On the house!” She seemed almost near tears. “I can’t let you freeze to death out there, and the wine’s already heated up!”

Alrek was starting to get annoyed. “I said I didn’t want any! I don’t—“

Nanne was biting her lip as she raised her fist, as though about to bite her knuckles instead. Instead, she lowered the hand until it was palm-up, fingers pointed right at his face... pursed her lips, and blew him a little kiss right over the rim of the full-to-the-brim pitcher.

Alrek blinked. He actually saw her kiss—her breath, he corrected himself—waft over the pink-violet wine, leaving little ripples trailing after it. He swore he felt the breeze waft over his cheek.

As it did, strange smells—sweet scents, heady, thick aromas of a strong, slightly bitter wine—washed over him. He breathed in reflexively, and his head spun as the wine’s intoxicating flavor seemed to settle on his tongue.

He blinked again. The goblin maid smiled demurely, the flickering glow of the lamp casting a reddish reflection in her large, pink eyes.

“I... guess,” he said at last, swallowing. “Just one glass.” He was freezing, and the mulled wine would warm him up a little bit. She honestly seemed desperate for him to accept it. It was silly to be so stubborn about things.

Her expression of utter delight made him feel that it was probably worth this small, harmless sacrifice. The little goblin maid quickly poured the glass and handed it over to him.

For a moment, he thought she was going to actually push the glass to his lips, but as his hand came up to take the glass, she flashed him a mischievous, ‘caught-in-the-act’ smile and relinquished it to him.

“So,” Nanne said, “your story. What was it like in the dungeon?”

“Um...” Alrek hesitated, taking a sip to steady himself. He involuntarily let out a slight sigh—oh, gods, that was... that was perfect. The warm liquid flowed down his throat as smooth and easy as milk and honey, and he rapidly emptied the glass before he even knew what he was doing.

The wine tasted good. It was bittersweet, a welcome reprieve from the sweet-and-savory rose bread, and tingled as it touched his lips. It, too, carried a faint rose flavor, and the scent itself was almost as heady as the drink. But the feeling of heat that filled him was exquisite relief for his chattering teeth and rattling bones.

For a moment, Alrek was lost, the glass raised above his head, his mind immersed in warm, easy bliss. His head lolled backwards slightly as he emptied the glass into his mouth.

He smiled, feeling a bit dazed, and allowed Nanne to take the glass back. Her fingers grazed his hand as she did so, and he flinched slightly, but decided not to make a scene about it. His mind was wandering, trying to find the thread of... oh, right.

“It was cramped,” he said, his smile lingering slightly as he reached down and took another slice of bread. To his surprise, there was a whole other loaf now, as well as a bowl containing some sort of orangeish curry sauce. Curiously, he dipped the sweetbread in this and took a bite.

It was a very interesting flavor. Sweet, salty and savory. Definitely unusual, but he found he liked it. Almost like the candied cave prawns he’d tried a few winters ago.

And very, very spicy.

Once again, he’d finished the bread without thinking, lost in the moist delicacy. Only now his mouth was on fire, and he looked up with wide eyes to Nanne.

Beaming, the goblin maid presented him with a refilled glass. Too full of relief to be annoyed at this second act of charity, he took the glass and downed it, gulping down the contents in seconds. Sure enough, the wine helped. The mulled wine was itself spicy, of course, but it seemed to change the spiciness to more of a pleasant tingling.

His mind was swimming when he lowered the glass. He leaned back in the chair, suppressing a small burp. He’d done that too fast. He was sweating, now, in his heavy layers. The rosy light of the lamp seemed distorted and strange.

He stared across at Nanne, blinking blearily. Had her neckline... always been quite so low? Her dress seemed so loose all of a sudden. He yawned. He couldn’t trust his own memories, he supposed. Or his vision. The wine was going to his head, and making him feel... fuzzy.

Very fuzzy. Very fuzzy and mellow. He smiled lazily at his drinking companion, who giggled at him. The rosy light flickered around him and cast bewitching shadows on her pretty, heart-shaped face. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You were saying...”

“Um, yes.” He shook himself a little. He had to finish the story, at least. But it was already so disjointed. Maybe his storytelling skills were rusty. Or maybe he was just... sleepy. “It was cramped,” he repeated, his voice drawling and low. “I even had to crawl some places to get around.”

“Like a baby!” She tittered.

“Yes.” He was a little annoyed at the comparison, but found himself nodding and smiling along with Nanne anyways. It didn’t feel worth the effort to get mad at the cute barmaid. “Like a baby. Everything smelled sweet. A lot of the walls were sticky with treesap. And...”

He fanned himself. His head was still buzzing from the wine. He knew he wouldn’t be so sleepy if he wasn’t so hot...

“Oh, are you too warm now?” She tilted her head. “Want me to help you with that?”

For a moment, Alrek thought she meant undressing him, and his breath caught. His mind and words started stumbling and bouncing around like a wheelbarrrow dropped down a spiral staircase. “Um—I—I don’t, uh, I mean, you’re not my—I don’t want any. T-touching. Not that your touching wouldn’t—I mean, I’m not saying you’re ugly—you’re really not, but—”

“Um...” Nanne raised one eyebrow, gesturing to the window.

He blinked. “... oh.”

And now he felt even hotter.

“S-sure,” he said without thinking, eager to escape the awkward moment. But as Nanne reached for the latch, he had a moment’s total confusion.

And then the shutters flew open.

A flurry of freezing snow blasted into the cabin, eliciting a startled squeak from Nanne. The lamp sputtered and died instantly. Alrek saw his gloves, scarf and hat go flying across the room, borne off by the wind. He nearly fell off his chair from the force of the storm.

“Close it!” he barked, momentarily roused.

He shot to his feet and grabbed at one shutter as Nanne grabbed at the other. Without the rosy light, everything suddenly felt crisp and clear and cold. He put all his strength into the shutter, setting his feet at an angle against the rough stone floor and pushing forward.

And as the window was re-closed and latched, almost all light fled the cabin.

There was a pitch black moment when all he heard was Nanne’s heavy breathing and his own. His head was swimming, and he tried to lean against the table for support—but Nanne was between him and the table. The surprised little goblin caught him, fortunately, and he was too dizzy to really complain as she gripped him by the hands and helped him remain standing, her head resting against the many layers of furs covering his chest.

He blinked rapidly. Alrek had always had good night vision, but now he had spots in front of his eyes from sleepiness hampering him, as well as the lingering pink haze from the lamp. It was taking a while for his eyes to adjust.

His body was tense, and he was angry now. What had Nanne been thinking? What had he been thinking? This was absurd. He never drank with strangers, and this was why! As soon as he could see, he was going to shove Nanne away and give her a piece of his—

“Here.” He felt a warm glass pressed to his lips. “To calm your nerves.”

Alrek wasn’t sure what Nanne meant, but he drank anyway. He let the hot, spicy wine trickle down his throat, and sure enough, he felt the tension in his shoulders fading, felt his whole body relaxing. In fact, he practically melted into her arms.

“I’m sorry about that,” the goblin barmaid said softly in his ear. “The latch broke.”

He squinted. That... didn’t sound right. “No, it didn’t,” he said. “You opened it.”

“Oh, why would I do that?” She gave a musical giggle. “Poor boy. Here. I’ll take you to the fireplace.”

Part of Alrek wanted to refuse on principle at this point. Part of him wanted to keep arguing about the window—it was so petty to lie about such a stupid mistake, and Alrek was stubborn by nature. He still wanted to take Nanne to task for that.

But he was tired. So tired and fuzzy. And Nanne felt soft and warm, and he felt strangely affectionate towards the curvy little barmaid. She’d clearly learned her lesson, and she was doubtless now embarrassed at the foolish mistake that had left Alrek in the dark, disoriented, and in her arms.

So he let her half-guide, half-carry him over to the fireplace. His eyes were slowly starting to adjust, but as his head was resting over her shoulder, he couldn’t see Nanne’s expression as she gently—ever-so-gently—lowered him into a feather-down-soft armchair with a long footrest. It was incredibly comfortable. He leaned back, and it was a sudden struggle to keep his eyes open. His eyelids seemed eager to close.

She straightened, and he caught one bleary glimpse of her looking down at him with a perky, excited smile before she turned to the dark fireplace and knelt down.

He heard a strange crackling. A moment later, the fireplace erupted in pink fire.

“Finally!” squealed Nanne, clapping her hands together like a child who’d just been given a pony for their birthday. She spun around and skipped back over, breasts bouncing with every footfall. His eyes followed the breasts with the easygoing shamelessness of one barely awake. As she drew near, the fireplace increased in intensity.

He groaned, staring at the brilliant light. The flames spat and danced with a wildness he’d never seen in fire before. Strangely, he couldn’t see any wood in there... but his eyes were still dazzled. In fact, everything aside from the fire, the chair and Nanne was enshrouded in darkness now. It was like he was lost in a separate dimension, a soft, warm world of pink. With Nanne.

He looked up, realizing she was standing over him again. There was a very pretty sort of glimmer to her eyes, he supposed.

“Sleepy?” she asked sweetly, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. He was startled by the sudden intimacy—and by how sensuous and wet the kiss was, and how the sensation lingered after she left like a heavy lipstick stain, like a mark, a brand.

He was having so much trouble focusing. He shook his head. “I’m not staying the night,” he mumbled. “Just... warming up.” His hands settled on the short armrests.

She abruptly sat down on the right armrest, and he felt his right arm pinned right beneath her plump ass. It didn’t hurt—her form was as soft as the chair—but his heart started to race as he realized his arm was now trapped. This was the kind of physical contact he had nightmares about.

But then Nanne was reaching forward, something doughy clutched between her fingers. And as he opened his mouth to speak, she popped it right into his mouth.

“Mm!” he protested, flinching away from her. She pulled back, biting her plump lower lip guiltily.

Annoyed, he chewed and swallowed. It tasted good, anyways. It was a kind of dumpling—doughy on the outside, but filled with spicy, savory... somethings.

It made his tongue burn, whatever it was. He panted—he was sweating like a pig in this chair!

She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh, you’re so sensitive! Would you like some more wine?”

“Now you ask,” he muttered, annoyed. But his head was too fuzzy and drooping to really muster any anger. He limply accepted the glass of wine from her, spilling a little on his furs as he raised it to his lips.

“Oh, no...” she said softly, leaning forward and dabbing at his chest with her handkerchief. She leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, “What a mess!”

He wanted to object, but it was just too much effort. He kept drinking, turning the painful spiciness into a powerful tingling instead. His whole head felt so... heavy. It was buzzing. Everything seemed to be glowing around him.

“Did you like the dumpling?” she cooed in his ear. “Would you like another?”

“Not so close,” he mumbled, reaching forward and accepting the dumpling she plopped into his hand. He resolved to eat it as tidily as possible.

He ate it messily. It was just too much effort—even though it was his right hand she was sitting on, his left hand was tingling like it had fallen asleep, and he basically just shoved it into his mouth and tried to keep his mouth closed while he chewed.

“Messy boy,” she whispered with a giggle, dabbing tenderly at his lips. He breathed in subtly, privately enjoying the rosy smell of her handkerchief. For a second, her bare finger teased along his lips, and he caught himself fantasizing about her popping the finger inside—but then she’d pulled the hand away with a bright smile. “All better!”

Her luscious lips tickled his earlobe as she spoke.

As he swallowed, the spiciness was already overtaking him again—and she was already ready with another glass and another amused smile. Alrek was a little annoyed. He was no stranger to spicy food, though admittedly he hadn’t had much of it in many years.

He accepted the glass and brought it toward his lips.

As it drew near, the glass slipped from his limp fingers.

In his ear, the goblin maid let out a tiny coo of horror-tinged-with-delighted-amusement as the whole glass spilled over his front. She kissed him on the cheek. “So clumsy!” she teased. “Are you always this big a klutz, or is it only when you have a cute girl handfeeding you? Or am I special?”

Alrek felt his face going beet red. He tried to muster the energy to respond, to shout, even, but it took too long. Everything was moving so fast, and he felt so... slow.

“Let’s just get you out of this.” Nanne was humming to herself as she pulled him out of his fur coat. He groaned an objection, but truth be told, he was boiling alive at this point. He didn’t even really mind losing the outermost coat of three. And it was drenched in wine now, anyways.

He was a bit annoyed, however, when she started pulling off his snowpants. As hot as it was, that felt a bit... familiar. But when he opened his mouth to complain, she popped another dumpling into his mouth and patted his head fondly.

He chewed, surprised at how easy and fuzzy and warm it felt to just lie there. It wasn’t as if he could get up. He was too sleepy, too docile... and she was far too heavy on his right hand.

Everything around him was growing staticky as he stared, entranced, into the fire. The rosy flames flickered and rose, danced, almost spiraled. His head was spinning. He swallowed the dumpling, and he almost felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper into the armchair as the spices danced on his tongue. His adventurer’s instincts told him to check and make sure the chair wasn’t some kind of mimic, but for some reason it just...

… didn’t...

… seem...

… to matter.

He thought he heard her cooing in his ear—caught isolated phrases that almost sounded like ‘good boy’ and ‘obedient’ and ‘sweet little husband’—but it was all fading in and out, fuzzy, almost meaningless. Everything felt almost meaningless. He found himself drinking again, and the only thought that made it to his mind was, Oh, good. I’m glad she remembered.

The pink flames danced, flickered, like tendrils sparkling out and tugging his mind inward, deeper and deeper and deeper. Heavier and heavier.

He stirred, slightly, as she finished removing his last coat. He realized he was now just wearing his shirt and trousers, and that made him nervous. He blinked rapidly, squinting at her through the flames that seemed to fill his vision like vines in the windowsill.

“There you go!” she purred, her lips curved upwards in a satisfied smirk. “All better.”

He stared. His mouth moved slowly. “Fire,” he said, his voice mumbly and weak. “The fire...”

“Oh, yes, do you like it?” She tossed a loose strand of dark hair from her eyes. “Isn’t it pretty? Don’t you like how it dances and spins like a...”

“Hypnotizing me,” he said quietly. “It’s... hypnotizing...” He tried to pull himself up, but everything felt so heavy, so rosy and soft and warm. His mind was buzzing. The glow was all around him, fuzzy and pink and dazzling. He let out a helpless moan.

And then Nanne was pushing him back against the chair, cooing soothing nonsense words at him. He squirmed. “There, there, my love. If you don’t like the fire, why don’t I just turn this chair around so you’re not facing it?” She leaned in and kissed his cheek tenderly. “No need to be so dramatic.”

“Nn... stop kissing me,” he said softly, as Nanne hopped down and started rotating the chair. The slow, even motion made him feel even dizzier, and he felt his muscles relaxing again. But his vision was at last freed from the spiting pink fire. It lingered in the corners of his vision, a distant reminder of something amiss.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll stop kissing you if that’s what you want” Nanne straightened, beaming down at him with her hands on her hips. But there was an element to her smile Alrek couldn’t quite place. He’d never been good at reading people. She seemed impressed, or hungry, or frustrated. He couldn’t tell which.

His head felt like it had cleared slightly, now that the chair was no longer facing the hypnotic hearth. But he still felt scattered. And when Nanne sat down on the chair again, he carefully moved his arm out of the way.

“Lemme...” His mouth watered as he saw what she had now—a slice of some kind of red-filling pie.

“Hungry?” she said sweetly, holding the slice towards his mouth. “Is my love ready for dessert?”

“Lemme feed myself,” he whispered. He couldn’t resist some dessert—her cooking was so good, and after all, he’d already accepted supper—but at least he could claim some damn dignity in this.

“Oh, you’ll just make a mess of yourself,” she said smoothly, bringing the pie slice closer.

But Alrek, determined, managed to raise his hand up and weakly catch her wrist. “I won’t,” he rasped. “Let... let me... I’m not a child!”

She raised her eyebrows, and seemed like she wanted to object. A moment passed in silence save for the crackling of the fireplace. But then that pretty glint returned to her pink eyes, and she gave him a wide, indulgent smile. “If you want,” she said, gently handing him the slice of pie and folding his fingers over it.

He took the slice, ignoring the little dribbles that fell onto his shirt. He was almost drooling. Nanne was sitting on the armrest, leaning against his shoulder, cooing in his ear as he slowly drew the delectable treat towards his open mouth—

And he just... dropped it. No reason, no anything. His hand just relaxed, and the slice fell right into his lap. Indistinct red filling spattered everywhere, as if he’d just been impaled.

He stared numbly at the mess of pie, then at his hand, then back at the pie.

And then he heard Nanne’s sweet voice in his ear. “Oh, no. What did I say? Oh, poor thing...” She hopped down again, sighing. “Well... this is a mess. Allow me...”:

“No,” he mumbled, but she didn’t seem to hear him. She reached over and started to unbutton his shirt. She was biting her lip as she did so, and her face seemed flushed—or was that just the lighting? “S-stop.”

Her eyes glittered as she smiled at him, reached behind her, and procured a candy cane. “Open wide!” she sang.

His mouth opened, and the cane slipped inside. His lips closed around it. And as he sucked, he felt a strange calm fill his mind. The fuzziness in his head was only getting worse and worse, but he couldn’t make himself care. He just enjoyed the sweetness of the candy, heedless of the way Nanne’s eyes shone as she unbuckled his trousers and pulled them down to his ankles, heedless of the way his underwear followed. His cock sprang free. He really had made a mess of himself.

But when he felt warm breath brush over his member, his mind sparked back into wakefulness, and he frowned. With what felt like an exhausting effort, he spat the cane out.

Nanne seemed to be enraptured by his cock. It wasn’t particularly large, as far as Alrek knew, but the way she stared at it, it might as well have been a giant’s. Was it large by goblin maid standards? What standards did goblin maids have?

At any rate, it was hard. And fully erect from all of this attention. And now Nanne knew that.

She grinned up at him and locked eyes.

Her pink eyes sparkled and flickered. He stared into those mischievous eyes, his mouth hanging open, eyelids drooping. Protests died in his throat as he stared deep, deep, deep into those flickering rosy eyes.

Giggling, she reached up, took away the remnants of the candy cane, and undid the last button of his shirt. He felt her spread his shirt wide, baring his chest for her appreciation..

“Poor thing,” she said sweetly. “You really can’t feed yourself in this state, can you?”

“I... I...” The eyes crackled and smoldered. Alrek’ mind was ablaze in lust.

Nanne hopped up and straddled his legs, a sly smile on her face. “We’d better avoid any future spills, haven’t we?” she cooed.

He blinked. He yawned.

She reached over and procured another slice of pie, winking at him. “Let’s try this again, shall we? Open wide!”

His mouth hadn’t even closed yet. She slipped the tip of the slice of pie between his lips, and he compliantly chewed, let the flavor wash over him, and swallowed. She licked the handkerchief and wiped his face clean, then handfed him another bite. He docilely accepted.

The pie was bizarre. Alrek had no idea how to even begin to name it—it wasn’t any berry he knew, nor was it any orchard fruit. It was tart and sweet, like pie cherries. The crust was flaky and buttery, and he was making an absolute mess of himself, knowing that Nanne would clean him up and craving more of the delicious treat. It was so sweet, so tangy and smooth and mind-melting and...

And then the pie was gone, and he realized his lips had locked around her middle finger. He blinked blearily. The little goblin barmaid was giggling like mad, ineffectually stifling her laughter behind a dainty hand. “Oh, my love,” she purred, “If I’d known you loved the pie so much, why didn’t you ask for it sooner?”

He suckled on her finger, eyes widening slightly.

He couldn’t stop sucking.

He didn’t want to, either. She tasted sweet. Like roses. And there were little bits of the pie filling on her finger that he quickly licked off. And she seemed to enjoy his attentions. Her delight was his delight. Sucking made him feel content. Empty. Docile.

Submissive.

One by one, she inserted each of her fingers into his mouth, and he sucked each one in turn. She was whispering again—scattered phrases reached his mind about sucking his mind away, settling his doubts, “... whenever you start to feel confused, it’s okay to ask for another taste...”

By the time he was sucking her thumb, Alrek was thoroughly dizzy with happiness. His cock was throbbing, mere inches from Nanne’s soft, nubile form.

She smiled as she pulled the thumb out, leaning in close. “I thought you didn’t want any more kissing?” she whispered, kissing him delicately on the chin.

He whimpered.

It did not escape his notice that she was still fully clothed and he was virtually naked. She maintained her dignity and control, and all he seemed capable of doing was lie there and obey. The trouble was, he couldn’t seem to rally any anger about this anymore.

The little goblin maid wriggled atop him, and he couldn’t suppress a moan as her skin grazed by his erect member. She seemed totally unaware of this contact. She seemed to just be trying to get more comfortable. She seemed completely innocent as she batted her eyelashes at him and smiled coyly.

“I have one last little treat for you,” Nanne whispered. “Would you like that, my love? One last treat before the honeymoon?”

“Honeymo—” Alrek was cut off as Nanne held up a little pink candy. He stared at it confusedly. “Mm.”

“Come on, now,” she whispered, but Alrek kept his mouth shut. “Don’t you want one?”

Alrek did. He wanted the strange candy with a strangely overpowering intensity, considering it resembled nothing so much as a round sugarcube. Desire was rising in his throat, making him lightheaded. His mouth was watering. Distantly, he recognized she had an entire bowl of the candies beside her.

But what was she saying about a honeymoon? And why did she keep calling him ‘my love’? Even in his sleepy daze, Alrek was sure something was wrong about this.

“Oh, come on,” Nanne cooed. “Look into my eyes. You really don’t want it?”

Instead, Alrek finally allowed his eyes to close all the way. He was afraid of falling asleep, but he knew, somehow, if he looked into her eyes, he would do everything she asked him to. And more. He would eat every drugged candy in that bowl and beg for more.

Drugs.

He was being drugged!

It seemed so childishly obvious now, now that it had clicked in his head. He was just so tired. He heard her cooing, probably building on those suggestions, and he knew he didn’t have long. He had to find a way to resist. Had to find a way to—

He felt soft lips press against his own, and without thinking, his mouth opened. Nanne’s tongue probed into his mouth as something else slipped inside. He moaned.

A second later, Alrek felt a massive influx of sweetness.

He immediately realized his mistake.

Too late.

Nanne completed the second-longest, wettest, messiest and most damning kiss of his life as the pink candy dissolved in his mouth. Sugary sweetness exploded in his mind, and it was as though syrup was pouring into him, filling his mind, emptying his mind, fixing his mind.

The goblin maid pulled back, beaming, and held up another candy. She wriggled in his lap, and he squirmed, a bit of unnoticed precum dribbling out as her inner thigh grazed by it.

She didn’t speak. She just held that candy up a few inches away, batting her eyelashes, eyes blazing with fiery lust, lips quirking in an invitation.

But Alrek knew better this time. He steeled his will and forced his mouth shut, heart pounding, rallying all his remaining willpower together. If he took one more candy, he would need to take another, and another, and she would fill his weakening mind full of sweetness until he would agree to anything. Here was where he drew the line.

He would not

let

her

“Such a lovely boy,” Nanne was cooing, caressing his cheek, as he obediently accepted the third candy into his mouth. His mind was dancing on clouds, sinking into deep sugary quicksand. “Ooh, kiss my lips and call me a cupid, but aren’t my candies just wonderful, my love?

“Ah,” he said, eyelids drooping, as a fourth candy slipped between his lips.

“Such a lovely husband you’ll be,” she cooed, and kissed him once more on the lips. He lost himself in her messy kiss, his cock throbbing as she continued to squirm atop him.

A bell rang from the kitchen. She pulled away from him eyelashes fluttering. “Ooh, Stars! I almost forgot!”

She reached down and popped one last candy into his mouth, laughing. “I almost forgot your wedding present! I have something extra-yummy for my silly boy. Wait here, my love.” She smirked as she hopped out of his lap, reaching over to give his cock one last little caress. She reached her hand back up and smelled the precum, smirking. “If you can manage that.”

She turned and skipped away.

Alrek lay limply in the chair, pants around his ankles, shirt unbuttoned, and drifted in sweet adoration.

He loved Nanne. Loved her curves, her pretty voice, her beautiful crackling eyes. The pink fireplace to his right spat and sparked, kept him warm, those tendrils continuing to caress the right side of his vision.

In the kitchen, he heard the goblin maid humming as she worked on something “extra-yummy”. His heart quickened and mouth watered at the thought. He couldn’t wait to submit once more.

At the same time, his conscious mind fought for dominance. Even as his head tingled with fuzz, even as his cock dribbled and leaped at every thought of the lovely Nanne, Alrek’s rational mind clung to cold stone. He needed to focus, needed to focus himself, as he had at the Amber Tombs...

The Amber Tombs. His eyes widened.

The treasure.

The idea—and reminder of why he’d come here to begin with—helped spark his resistance further. So did the fact that it was getting darker and darker. Evidently, Nanne’s spell over the fireplace was wearing off.

In the kitchen, she didn’t seem to notice. Apparently, goblin maids didn’t need light to see by.

He took an experimental deep breath. Then another. His fingers twitched.

His head swam the first time he tried to sit up, and he fell back down as little ‘reminders’ blossomed in his head. The sight of the glass of wine and the bowl of candies made it a million times worse. He loved Nanne, he wanted to be a good boy, a good husband, wanted to taste more candies and treats and fingers...

He finally fought it off, and taking another deep breath to steady himself, sat forward again.

Instantly, he sank back down—in more ways than one. He gave a soft moan as his cock dribbled precum, as tiny mini-orgasms rushed through his tired, tired mind. He almost lost it completely this time. When he recovered himself, he realized he was sucking his own thumb, eyelids drooping as he remembered the taste of his wife.

His fiance.

His... his nothing, damn it!

His mind clicked into place, and he practically tore the thumb out as he sat up. He heard soft padding footsteps behind him, and in desperation, he lunged for his trousers around his ankles, questing for the pouch.

And there it was. He grabbed it, heart pounding.

He had to get out of here. Even if he left in just his pants and shirt, he had to get out of here.

And then a soft, kittenish voice made his heart jolt.

“Ooh... is it another bride?”

“I don’t think so, Miri.” This voice was soft as well, low and husky—almost a moan. “Look at its cock.”

“Brides can have cocks, Yalren.”

Two humans crawled into view. Crawled. Like animals. One had long, dark hair that hung like curtains around her narrow face, her skin a deep bronze that almost glowed in the fading firelight. The other had wavy red hair down to her shoulders, and slightly paler skin the color of mahogany wood.

They both looked exhausted. They were both dressed like barmaids, but if Nanne’s dress had been a bit scandalous, these two were positively lewd. Their tops were more like lingerie than anything, and their frilly skirts were diaphanous and concealed almost nothing.

They looked up at him, sitting up in his chair, and licked their lips.

“I think he’s a boy,” Yalren—the dark-haired one—moaned, locking eyes with Alrek. Her eyes were a dull pink, like the shadow of Nanne’s. “Aren’t you, hon?”

Alrek stared at her. Those pink eyes made his breath catch in his throat.

“Is that true?” cooed Miri—the redhead—as she climbed up from the other side. She crawled onto his lap, and was joined a moment later by Yalren. Alrek was helpless to object as the two brides of the goblin maid draped themselves around him, cooing and moaning, even as the firelight grew dimmer and dimmer.

“Get off,” he whispered, even as his cock throbbed. His voice had no conviction whatsoever. “I n-need to get away... need to... to...”

They looked down at his cock, then back at him.

Coy smiles appeared in unison.

“New groom’s having a nightmare” sang Miri softly, descending down towards his cock. “Let’s send him back to sleeeeep.”

“No...” Yes, his cock cried, as hot breath wafted over it.

“Need to be nice and sleepy like us,” breathed Yalren, taking a candy from the bowl and holding it teasingly close to his suddenly dry lips. “Nanne loves her happy, sleepy brides, doesn’t she, Miri?”

“Mm,” Miri agreed, as the redheaded barmaid began tenderly kissing his cock. Alrek was panting, gasping, whimpering. She wasn’t sucking him—she was just kissing it, over and over, right on the tip. Such small, dainty kisses.

“She’s already kissed him,” Yalren purred, trailing her fingers over his skin, tracing the lipstick marks. “Marked him as hers. So lucky...”

And then the candy was in his mouth, and he was staring up at Yalren in horror, sinking back down into the chair’s soft warmth, and Yalren and Miri were wrapping their arms around him to hold him steady for their attentions...

“Now, now, girls,” called Nanne, her voice smug. “You mustn’t wear out the groom on his wedding night! You can enjoy our honeymoon later, I promise.”

“Yes, Nanne,” the two brides said meekly. And as the brides happily hopped out of his lap, he looked up blearily and watched Nanne saunter back over, hips swinging rhythmically, and hop up onto his knee.

She had in her hand a little glass bowl of fudge. As careless as anything, she set the bowl of candies onto the floor—he heard excited noises, then wet sounds, as her brides presumably began to indulge—and replaced it on the stool with the bowl of fudge.

“Open wide,” she cooed with a girlish giggle.

Her voice tickled his brain like a feather. He trembled with effort, struggling to resist her hypnotic eyes, the lingering pleasure on his cock...

But in the end, it was his exhaustion that undid him. He only realized he had slipped halfway into sleep, and allowed his mouth to slip open, when he heard Nanne exclaim, “Good boy!”

She plucked a single piece of chocolate fudge out of the bowl. Alrek smelled all sorts of wonderful scents from that bowl—caramel and strawberry and peanuts and so, so much chocolate. His mouth watered. He whimpered, staring deep into Nanne’s beautiful pink eyes...

She brought the fudge towards his lips, giggling with glee. “Here it comes,” she cooed, as her other hand reached down and started to lightly stroke his cock with a single finger. “Here comes my lovely husband’s very first yummy...”

But at the last second, she paused, pulling the fudge back. Alrek closed his mouth, realizing he’d been leaning towards the treat. He was sweating. His cock was twitching like beneath her dainty touches.

Nanne was staring at his right hand, where, he realized, he still held the pouch.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“What’s this?” the goblin maid whispered, reaching down and plucking up the bag. She opened it and stared inside, then reached in and drew out a little lump of what looked like glazed maple candy.

She stared at it, looking quizzical, then gave it a curious lick.

“Ooh!” Her eyes lit up, and she looked at Alrek with a sinister smile. “My husband has brought me a wedding present, has he?”

She licked her lips, looking over the tasty treat. Alrek panted, watching her lips move closer and closer.

Oh.

Oh, please.

If only she’d... she’d...

“Boop!” Without warning, she swiveled her wrist and popped the candy right into his open, panting mouth.

She started giggling like mad as his eyes widened. “Oh, my silly boy. Did you think you were going to have a little game with me?” She leaned in close, forcing his mouth closed with her little fingers. Her pink eyes bored into his, and as he felt the sugars beginning to melt on his tongue, a peace began to fill him. “A goblin maid,” she purred, “cooks for her husband. Not the other way around!”

She rose up slowly, and he whimpered helplessly, the drowsiness making his head buzz and spin even as her pussy lips wetly ‘kissed’ the tip of his cock. Still her eyes held him. “A goblin maid,” Nanne cooed, “keeps her husband nice and sleepy.”

And the chair started to rotate, slowly, as the brides below began pushing it. The chair was wheeled, he realized, as the fire drifted back into view. Designed to spin. Designed to hypnotize. The pink flames reinforced her eyes, drowned him in dazing lights. Once again, the darkness was closing in. All that mattered was Nanne.

And the fire.

“And a good goblin maid wife,” Nanne said sweetly, “makes him feel so good, he never, ever has time to want anything else!”

And she plunged down onto his cock.

Alrek moaned and whined as pure, wonderful bliss filled his mind. His will was melting from the heat, burning away in pink flames, drifting into the endless forest fire of her eyes. Her pussy contracted and milked his cock sweetly, sensuously, eagerly, even. He struggled to keep his breaths even, struggled to—

She started bouncing in his lap.

“MMMM!” He bucked mindlessly as bliss exploded inside his head. Her pussy slid over his cock like butter around a knife, tight and wet and slick and... ever-so-perfect. He marveled at how easily she rose and fell atop, this curvy little maiden with those beautiful eyes, those plush, kissable lips...

And then she was kissing him with those lips, kissing his neck, his cheeks, planting tingly lipstick mark after mark on him. “Mm—good boy—my boy—such a sweet, loving h-husband—” She was gasping, her voice breathy and weak. She gyrated her hips, wriggling her whole body, practically thrashing as she bounced and bounced and bounced.

Her dress still concealed her lower body, but now her tits were spilling out, and Nanne, panting, guided his hands towards them. He felt her place his hands over her breasts, felt the firmness, the perkiness of each nipple. So soft. So firm and... jiggly.

His cock throbbed, bathed in pleasure beyond his every fantasy as her pussy suckled and squeezed. She kept burbling and cooing in his ear as she bounced faster and faster, her taunts getting more and more gasped, more and more dirty.

But she was running out of breath. And it wasn’t long before she was just crying, “Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!”

And with a squeal, she came. Her pupils visibly shrank, and as more pink crowded his vision, Alrek came to her screams, to her quivering and shaking. The air left his lungs. In a lusty frenzy, he squeezed her breasts, bucked up into her hot, dripping cunt.

Pleasure practically poured out of him, and her eyes squinted in utter bliss as she clutched needily at his muscular form.

Lost in passion, Nanne grabbed him, gave a little possessive growl that made him feel weak, and seized him in a soul-shattering kiss, her tongue thrusting into his mouth, moaning against him, practically devouring him—

She stopped.

He stared weakly into her squinting eyes.

She blinked.

“Mm.” She pulled back, putting a hand to her lips. Her eyes were sparkling. “What did you... ah...” She swallowed. “What...”

He reached up, hand tingling, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to dispel the lingering tastes the molten treat had left on his tongue.

Meanwhile, Nanne’s eyes were turning a soft, mellow hazel. She stared at him blankly. So, so blankly. “I... I d-don’t...”

“A-Amber Tombs sugar lump,” he gasped, bucking one last time into her (eliciting a squeak of arousal from her). “It... melts slow.”

“I don’t. I don’t. I don’t.” Her breaths were coming in low, labored. She squirmed atop his cock, eyes wide. “I don’t understand.”

Alrek stared back at her, unsure. She was starting to smile widely, staring at him with big, glazed eyes.

“Well,” he said, swallowing, “I d-don’t—“

“I love you!” she squealed, and she leaned in and kissed him. But this was not the dominant, devouring kiss of a would-be wife. No, this was the messy, clumsy, desperate kiss of a young lover. She clutched him, kissing him again and again, breathing heavily as she sucked and nibbled his earlobe. He gasped as the tingling of her lipstick covered his skin. He realized, to his humiliation, that he had to be covered in her kiss marks right now.

He was reeling. What was... what was... was this what the sugar did? No wonder that succubus had been so—

“Love you!” the little goblin burbled, bouncing in his lap faster than ever. “L-love—love—laaaah!!” Her tight pussy physically vibrated around him as the orgasm was wrenched out of her. Alrek felt her sticky juices dribbling down his cock.

Alrek was overwhelmed by her desperation. And strangely, his cock felt like it was hardening, growing, throbbing more intensely than ever.

“S-stop—” he gasped, heart pounding. “C-can’t—”

“Ooh, yes, my love!” she cooed, hopping off his lap and coming to kneel straddling his legs once again. Her pussy gave a long, wet sound as his cock slid out of her.

“O-okay.” Alrek was struggling to breath. His head was spinning. He knew this was better than brainwashing, but.. “I need... I need you do...”

Nanne beamed at him as she leaned down, her face descending down towards his cock. “Does my love want a sucky instead?” she whispered. “Just a little one? I’ve made him all messy.” She gave his cock a loving little peck. Then another.

Then, before he could even muster a response, she took his cock all the way in her mouth. She gave a moan, not even gagging as she deepthroated him, her plump lips sliding up and down his shaft with smooth, easy motions that made his heart flutter and his mind sputter.

Alrek gasped. He stared at the goblin maid in shock, then, unwillingly, let out a moan.

He was too tired, and she was moving too quickly for his slow, sleepy brain. The little goblin maid was sucking him like a professional, moaning like an incubus, eyes heavy-lidded and fluttering like a fleece sprite’s.

She stared up at him with those bedroom eyes, and gave an inquiring, “Mm?”

He stared at her, lost in those sweet, hazel eyes, and the wonderful things she was doing to him.

And he came into her mouth.

He heard her squealing in pleasure, and the lust took over in his mind completely. He lay back in the chair and bucked upwards, crying out in ecstasy as she drank down every drop with almost rapturous glee.

He was so lost in afterglow, he didn’t notice at first when she pulled off and started licking. “Clean you off,” she whimpered softly. “I made you all messy again...”

This continued for what felt like hours, as the fire burned lower and lower. He could do nothing to stop it, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

It was a vicious, delicious cycle. The mindless goblin maid, totally infatuated, would suck him until he came, then lick him until he came on her face, then her mouth would hang open and she would docilely begin sucking again.

After a while, he found himself going along with it. “Good girl,” he whispered, as she kissed his cock head with those plump, wonderful lips, leaving lipstick rings all over it. “Th-that’s a good girl.”

She looked up at him, batting her eyelashes coquettishly, and began sliding those lips up and down his shaft once again. Her head bobbed, but she continued to stare into his eyes, full of pure adoration. And he came again.

Alrek lay back in a constant half-dreaming state, pleasure assaulting his weak, drowsy mind, keeping him docile and calm and happy, and allowed Nanne to be a good girl for him.

He lay there for some time, lost in drowsy bliss, until the fire began to sputter and it began to grow cold. Slowly, wakefulness returned to him, and the constant pleasure—while intoxicating—started to be joined by an awareness that he could not stay here forever.

Even if a part of him wanted to.

He sat up again, watching numbly as Nanne’s head bobbed in his lap. Her eyes were closed in radiant bliss.

Alrek hesitated. For a moment, he considered leaning back down. Nanne—this new, obedient Nanne—would attend to his every need. She would pleasure him. Bathe him in her love. Keep him fed.

He licked his lips.

She let out a loud moan, as he reading his thoughts, and ran her tongue over his cock lovingly.

“Nanne,” he said weakly, “g-get... get off.”

She pulled off his cock with a slick sound, and stared up at him, pouting her luscious lips, batting her eyelashes. She slowly hopped down onto the floor and knelt down before him.

He looked around. The two ‘brides’ lay alongside one another nearby, loudly sixty-nining. The bowl of candies was empty. The bowl of fudge, he noticed, was not.

“Okay,” he said, grimacing. “I... okay.”

His head was clearing. Mainly because it was getting cold. He forced himself to his feet and walked over to his pack and coats, inelegantly tossed to the side by the table. He still heard the blizzard raging outside. Most likely, it would continue through the night.

He turned back to Nanne, who stared at him and slowly smiled.

“Nanne,” he said, swallowing, “your... brides.”

“Yes?” She glanced happily at the two hungrily licking barmaids. “I love them!”

“Okay. So that’s how this works.” He nodded. “Uh... if I tell you to do anything, will you do it?”

“Anything,” she breathed. And she meant it. The candy she had eaten was meant to bind ancient demons, not unethical mortals.

“Great.” He chewed his lower lip. “Then you’re gonna stop giving them the chocolates and candies. Stop giving them drugged food. Feed them normal stuff. Same for anyone else who lives here.” He paused. “Including me.”

She nodded, seeming totally delighted at these requests.

“And... uh, you’re gonna treat them like they’re in charge.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Until they’re back in their right minds. Make sure you do everything they say.”

“Of course, my love!” she sang, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m leaving in the morning,” he said firmly. She nodded encouragingly, overjoyed at his decision. “But I have to stay the night. So... I’m gonna take one of the bedrooms.”

“Of course!” She got to her feet. “Would you like me to show you to an empty room?”

“... sure.”

Hesitantly, his cock still twitching slightly, Alrek followed Nanne upstairs. He heard creaking on the stairs, but didn’t turn around.

They came to a pale wooden door. Nanne procured a key and handed it to him, giving a trusting smile.

He opened the door. Inside was a simple bedroom, consisting of a dresser, a desk, and the biggest bed he’d ever seen. The comforter quilt was a brilliant crimson, as were the pillows. This, no doubt, was where Nanne had played with her unlucky captives.

He sighed, walking inside and to the bed. Funny enough, after the events of tonight, he wasn’t even that tired. He sat down on the bed, looking over the sparsely-decorated room, and yawned.

“Heehee.”

He looked down.

Three women—two humans and one curvy, hazel-eyed goblin maid—beamed up at him.

“It’s okay if you leave in the morning, my love,” Nanne said sweetly, leaning in towards his hard, rigid cock. “But my wives still want their wedding night.”

Alrek’s head buzzed slightly.

In unison, the wives licked their lips.