The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Oink~... oink~... oink~... oink~...”

On a warm Kanzibar afternoon, as the sun starts to sink in the sky, a salty breeze blows in from the coast. While it picks up the smell of the docks, it’s still better than the wind from inland, the direction of the slave-pens outside Kanzibar’s walls. But Truffles the Swine Elf doesn’t seem bothered by thoughts of the unsavoury trade that underpins the city—in fact, she doesn’t seem bothered by many thoughts at all. Instead, she just trots through the dusty street with a smile on her face, oinking softly as she inhales every few steps.

“Oink~... oink~... oink~... oink~...”

But Lady Amberlynn of House Oriand, the mind inside that body, hates her situation. Even after a long shift of being ogled at the Shackled Swan, she can’t get away from the lecherous gazes of ill-mannered men. The tiny bikini that makes up her uniform only seems to tantalize, instead of concealing anything. And even if her orders from Iktik would permit using her hands to cover her body, they’re occupied holding the goblin’s dinner in one hand, and a bucket of water in the other.

“Oink~... oink~... oink~... oink~...”

It doesn’t help that her new body (while distinctly unattractive to elvish standards) is extremely popular in Kanzibar. Heaving breasts, plump lips, and a soft, unthreatening physique are apparently top-tier in a rough place like this. Signs of a woman good enough at her trade that she can eat lavishly, or a well-kept wife who can focus all her energy on... well, on making babies.

“Oink~... oink~... oink~... oink~...”

Add onto that the obvious signs of her enslavement, the magical collar around her throat and the ‘GOBLIN OWNED’ tattoo on her abdomen, and she becomes a forbidden fruit. Slavers’ Guild guards are present enough to prevent open slavenapping, and without the political motivation behind the bounty for Amberlynn, Truffles is just about as safe here as in any elven, ‘civilised’ city.

“Oink~... oink~... oink~... oink~...”

Sir Puck is likely keeping an eye on her as well, pretty much the only way he can assist her right now, although the humiliating prospect of him seeing all that she endures isn’t so reassuring. He’s been at the tavern every day, watching her work from across the room... it’s almost charming, in a way, that he’d work so hard to keep her safe until her father arrives.

“Oink~... oink~... oink~... huh?“

That doesn’t mean there are no dangers, of course. With her hands full, there’s no way to stop the human from stepping into her path and roughly sinking a hand into her crotch, running a calloused finger between her puffy labia.

“Hallo there, Truffles... how much for a go at this juicy peach o’ yours?”

Opening her mouth, Amberlynn goes to retort—to tell him to take his hands offer her body, leave her presence, and then die in a hole. Something to that effect, at least, as befits the kind of man who would grope her in public! But instead, with a faint pulsing from her collar, a different answer comes out...

“Aahn~! Sorry, mister... oink~... my piggy-puss is reserved for oink~ my master!“

The feeling of rough, workman-like fingers digging into her crotch is almost familiar now, as is the laughter when his hand comes back slick with her juices. It seems that the man also interprets the glow of her collar as something else, perhaps a desire to do more instead of denying him.

“Aww, no worries, sweet-tits. I know ya want to! I’ll jus’ have to be content with ploughin’ your tight rear at the Swan.“

Glancing up at the guards nearby, the man chances one final grope of her bounteous bosom, before letting her continue down the street. Shuddering in distaste, Amberlynn reflects on how her life has gotten to this point—from the highborn daughter of an elven lord, to a goblin’s whored-out slave. While she’d thought that working in the Shackled Swan was bad enough as Amberlynn, returning to that state would be a blessing, compared to how Truffles is forced to act.

Iktik has kept her virginity intact (at least for now), but that leaves her tits, mouth, and anus free for the citizens of Kanzibar to use as they please—so long as they have the coin to pay for her. She’s even forced to let them drink her milk! Albeit only indirectly, as she manually squeezes the rich elf milk into their teas and coffees, which thankfully doesn’t trigger the flow of mana.

It’s only been four days since she emerged from that foul bath, and then received the message from her father, that he was soon to be on his way. In that time, she’s already serviced more dicks than she believed possible. To think, a daughter of House Oriand, forced to work as a common whore!

And yet, despite that abject humiliation, Amberlynn has to admit that she hasn’t had any more trouble with bounty hunters. It seems that this disguise, however degrading, is serving its purpose. Of course, even aside from the unwanted physical changes, and how she’s been spending her time, being a Swine Elf has a couple of even worse downsides...

Before she even reaches the door to Iktik’s cabin, Amberlynn can smell something. Her green-tipped ears twitch, her piggy snout flares open, and she pulls in a deep sniff, sifting through the odours of Kanzibar—heady spices and sizzling street food, alongside less pleasant ones like unwashed slaves and horse manure. But underneath all that, probably detectable only by the Swine Elf’s finely tuned sense of smell... is a familiar goblin cock.

Hurrying to the door, Amberlynn fumbles the latch open, then almost spills her bucket of water as she steps inside the only room. It’s been a long day of sucking cock and getting her sensitive sphincter spread open, and none of it was enough to bring her to release. No, that’s reserved for when she’s with Iktik.

If he lets her, that is.

Yesterday, after being delayed at the tavern, Iktik filled a dusty flagon with his load—and still, Amberlynn couldn’t stop herself from gulping it all down. It was disgusting. Lukewarm and congealed, the goblin semen was just as compelling to her acute senses, but not enough to allow her to orgasm.

Right now, her loins are aching for release, and the feeling doesn’t seem to be abating. She can put it out of her mind when doing other things, but it always comes back. Especially so when she’s confronted with Iktik’s unsheathed cock, standing erect as the goblin openly masturbates in his shack.

“Oink~... I’m, uh... oink~... I’m home! Oink~ oink~!“

Practically stumbling in, Amberlynn sets down the bucket and the plate of food, as she falls to her hands and knees. Her breathing is quickening, each inhale becoming a soft snort, as she crawls nearer to the tantalising shaft. If she could only wrap her lips around it, she could-

“Wait!”

The goblin’s command surprises her—but even more so, she’s surprised by how he’s telling her not to suck his cock. And that she actually needed the collar to stop her from doing so.

“Y’know, Truffles, I’ve been thinkin’. Your suckjobs are all well an’ good, but... sometimes a goblin wants more, y’know?”

Unable to pull her eyes away from the fat, knobbly shaft in front of her, Amberlynn is still listening. And despite the potent arousal coursing through her system right now, her heart sinks—does he really mean that?! If so... she might need to dig deep into her mental reserves, so properly resist any improper order.

“I’m wonderin’ what’d happen if I ordered you to let me fuck yer pussy right now. I know yer cravin’ my cock, right?”

“Oink~! Y-yes! But... oink~...p-please don’t...“

That was another pulse of the collar which dragged that answer from her. Has it already come to that point? She can’t have sunk quite so low already! It’s purely the Swine Elf physiology that desires his foul penis, not her. After all, you can desire something, but know that it’s bad for you. Steeling her will, Amberlynn braces herself to resist the incoming order...

“Hmm... I don’ think I will, though. Not tonight, at least.”

And she’s left a little off-balance when Iktik decides not to give it. Reaching down past her, while continuing to jerk his cock, the goblin picks up the bread from his plate of food. Tearing it in half, he soon ejaculates all over it, soaking the half-loaf in his seed. With the heady, musky aroma filling the small space even more, he hands the food over to his Swine Elf.

Of course, just like when she drank it yesterday, Amberlynn is unable to keep herself from scarfing down the thick, salty bread. And again, the aphrodisiac qualities hit her full force—but it’s still not enough to bring her to orgasm, leaving her even more desperate than before.

It’s almost like Iktik is doing this deliberately.

That night, the two of them retired to Iktik’s bed, as has become almost normal. Of course, since Amberlynn’s transformation into Truffles, the goblin has taken up a rather different position, instead of spooning her. He sleeps on her now, instead of the mattress, sprawled on top of her body, using her rolls of fat as a mattress, and her luscious bosom as a pillow.

It probably beats the scratchy straw that she has to deal with. And at least, with his cock safely retracted into his sheath, there’s not much goblin musk emitted. There’s still a little bit, a baseline scent that keeps her loins warm and moist, but she can think clearly.

This means that the time between Iktik falling asleep and her inevitable drift into slumber is the closest thing Amberlynn has to a break. A time when she can try to be herself, put her thoughts in order without any distractions.

If she closes her eyes, and calms her breathing, focusing solely on the calm in and out... she can stop oinking. For a scant few minutes, she can feel like herself, and calmly consider her situation. With her father on his way, there’s not much she can do—aside from enduring the humiliating treatment, and trying to keep Iktik away from her pristine, as-yet unsullied pussy.

Not that he’s even made a pass at that yet, choosing to humiliate her in other ways, instead. Like selling her other holes at the tavern, or forcing her to act like the dumb, happy Swine Elf that he transformed her into... Amberlynn hasn’t been able to stop any of that from happening. But, she tells herself, it’s just that she’s conserving her mental strength, so that she can resist if he gives her a really bad order!

So far, she’s been successful at keeping her mental fortitude strong. And it’s usually while doing this pseudo-meditation, bracing herself for the next day, that Amberlynn falls asleep, unaware that her breathing returns to snuffly, oinky snores during the night...

The sun rises on Kanzibar much as it does anywhere else in the world. Human merchants from the City-state Coalition rise to inspect goods and receive cargo. Dwarven artisans pay little heed to the motion of the sun, while living deep underground in their Holds. And the High Kingdom of the elves is buzzing with activity—one household in particular, as it gets its finances in order.

Of course, the people of Kanzibar are as varied a populace as anywhere, so the fishermen still bring in their morning catch, the farmers tend to their livestock, and the traders set up their stalls in the marketplaces. The slave trade especially, as the backbone of this unclaimed, independent city, starts trading early. Menial slaves are on the block, for the most part, those meant for construction or sowing fields. The more skilled, rare, or attractive slaves are reserved for the more popular auctions later in the day.

For trash collectors, they’d usually rise before dawn—unless they’d recently acquired a new, much more profitable revenue stream. Tavern wenches, slave or free, don’t begin their trade until the afternoon, so a certain goblin and Swine Elf are still asleep when a messenger arrives at their door.

After a thudding at the door wakes Iktik and Amberlynn, the goblin trudges to the door and accepts the scroll of parchment. Tossing it onto his desk, he then takes his time relieving himself in the bucket, before directing his slave to empty it outside. By the time she impatiently returns, the goblin is reading the message.

“Iktik, um... oink~... what does it say? Is... oink~... my father here?!“

The wax seal on the parchment is one that Amberlynn recognises, that of the Kanzibar Slavers’ Guild, and her hopes rise for a moment, imagining that he’s arrived already to buy her contract out! Unfortunately, Iktik dashes her hopes with a curt shake of his head.

“So... it seems that word’s gotten around ’bout you, Truffles.”

Cocking her head to one side, Amberlynn is confused about that for a moment—wasn’t the point of her transformation to stop people from knowing about her? Of course, that assumed that there wouldn’t be any interest in Truffles. An assumption that has turned out to be a little short-sighted.

“I’ve been asked to take my new Swine Elf to one o’ the fancy snob parties they ’ave around here. An’ this ain’t the kinda request you turn down. But at least they’ll ’ave good food, eh?“

Pursing her plump lips together, Amberlynn studies Iktik for a moment. This city is pretty rough, so it wouldn’t be surprising if refusing to attend could be dangerous... but then again, the goblin might just want to show her off. Her pussy clenches a little at the thought of being put on display like that, especially with the unresolved arousal that Iktik is determined to leave her with.

“Oink~... I... I guess so.“

Amberlynn didn’t have any say in the matter, of course. Iktik decided that they were going to the party, so they were going to the party. And besides, even if the goblin had asked her opinion, she would’ve chosen it over another shift at the Shackled Swan. The customers had been getting bolder with their requests, lately...

And while her answer likely wouldn’t have changed, hearing that Iktik planned on decorating her might have caused her to think twice about it.

“Um, oink~ why am I dressed up like this? It’s... oink~... it’s even more humiliating than the oink~ bikini!“

Standing in the cabin, after two hours of primping and preening from Iktik, Amberlynn isn’t pleased with how she’s been adorned. Thin copper chains encircle her arms and legs, gleaming and glittering as she moves, with one coming up to encircle her waist.

In addition, two pairs of earrings pierce her wide, porcine lobes—one set a plain copper hoop, and the other a set of dangling silvery moons. Probably pewter, much like the ring that loops through the septum of her snout. Her nipples are intact, possibly to ensure her milk production is unaffected (not that he’s been making use of it recently), but still have a copper ring of their own encircling the base.

Her face is also decorated, with cosmetic tints daubed on her skin—deep, inviting red for her lips, and glittering green on her eyelids, to match her ears. In a more permanent act, Iktik also used self-tattooing ink to inscribe his family name on her chest, much like the stamp on her crotch.

From the magic collar, a final chain is attached, loose with no handle or leash. Made from relatively thick links of heavy bronze, it hangs down between her breasts, terminating just south of her entirely exposed pussy.

“It’s traditional! Dese are all marks of a wealthy goblin, y’see?”

Stepping up close, Iktik runs his hands over Amberlynn’s pudgy body, sinking his fingers into her softness, as he directs her attention to, and explains the meaning behind, each piece of ornamentation.

“No clothin’, only metal stuff, to show dat he can heat his home. My personal tattoo, which implies I ain’t gonna sell ya again. A nose ring, to stop ya rootin’ for... heh, for Truffles. And nothin’ covering yer cunt, to show that he plans on breedin’ ya! Hah!“

Pouting a little at the humiliating implications, that explains most of her new appearance—except for another tattoo which Iktik added to her buttocks. The word ‘OINK!’, with a crude pig snout beside it, and an arrow pointing at her tail. As if inviting people to tug at it!

Amberlynn’s fairly sure that that was just added for Iktik’s own amusement, though.

“Oink~... w-well... ahem. Shall we g-get going? Oink~...“

Not wasting any more time, Iktik takes the end of her chain, and leads his slave from the hovel. Out on the sunny street of Kanzibar, her chains glitter even more gaudily, drawing even more eyes than before.

When she was working at the tavern, even as a whore, her situation seemed closer to working as a servant than chattel slavery. But the new decorations, impractical and flashy, cause her to feel much more like Iktik’s personal property. Like a possession. It rankles her to be put on display like this, and even worse is the knowledge that she’s on her way to a party, where the guests would be much closer to her own social class.

Indeed, the property that the goblin leads her to is in the nicer part of the city, upwind of the rest of Kanzibar, with a view of the bay. Pausing outside the walls of the manor house that seems to be their destination, Iktik pulls Amberlynn close to whisper into one of her green-tipped ears.

“Now remember... they think that yer a well-trained Swine Elf. Which means it’d be weird if yer collar glowed all the time, yeah? Might make ’em start thinkin’ about why yer still so defiant...“

Nodding dubiously, Amberlynn certainly understands the logic, but doesn’t like where Iktik seems to be going with this.

“So, I’m thinkin’ that you can act as you like in there. No orders, rules, nothin’—you’ll have ta convince ’em that you’re not Amberlynn by yerself. An’ if you fail, well...”

Shrugging his shoulders, as if there’s nothing he can do about it, Iktik’s smirk betrays how happy he is to lay down this ultimatum.

“If anyone finds out about who ya used ta be... I’ll put that piggy pussy o’ yours to proper use. Geddit?“

It’s a deal with is completely unfair, and Amberlynn naturally wants to protest—but Iktik didn’t ask if she agreed with it, only if she understood it. Which, all too clearly, she does.

“I... oink~... I get it...“

Play her role, or get fucked. Literally.

Past the guarded gates, and through an ornamental garden, the two of them are welcomed into the manor by a rather perturbed looking butler—and Amberlynn almost slips up right away. Over the last few days, the collar has been there to nudge her into Truffles-like behaviour, keeping her natural inclinations at bay, and convincing the commoners of Kanzibar that she’s just a dumb, pliant Swine Elf.

“Ah, you must be Mister Iktik. And your slave, Truffles.”

Thrown back into her natural environment, Amberlynn nearly takes offence at this. Not at being referred to as the slave Truffles, she’d prepared herself for that. But a butler at a noble household should never call a visiting guest ‘mister’, no matter how lowly they are. It’s a very minor misstep, but one that she would call one of her own servants out for.

If she currently had servants, that is. Thankfully, she realises just in time, turning her snort of disdain into an inquisitive oink.

“Oink~! Wow, um... this place is oink~ big!“

Of course, the manor isn’t all that large compared to the residences she’s accustomed to, but for a place like Kanzibar, it’s practically palatial. It’s a curious feeling, re-entering a world which barely two weeks ago was normal for her, but in such a different position. After following the butler through fairly well-decorated hallways, they reach a doorway, and he looks down on them both.

“Master Grundle and his guests are past this door. He asked me to ensure that, ah... that Truffles is house trained, yes?“

Amberlynn blushes at the humiliation, which feels all the fresher in these surroundings, but Iktik seems the find the question quite humorous. The name that he gave also rings a bell, though—wasn’t Mr. Grundle the Slavers’ Guild official who met her at the Bazaar, before she was sold?

“Hah! Don’ worry, she won’t be shittin’ on the rug, or anythin’.”

With that dubious assurance, he then opens the door, allowing Iktik to lead Amberlynn into a moderately sized parlour room. A handful of well-dressed guests mill around talking to each other, sipping at their drinks, and nibbling at hors d’oeuvres. One wall is taken up by large windows, looking out on manicured gardens, and a couple of pretty servant girls, notably uncollared, wait on the guests.

But while Iktik is intent on acquiring a glass of something ‘strong and expensive’, Truffles can only stare at two people conversing on the other side of the room. One is Sir Puck, very familiar to her of course, although he’s dressed in some more formal clothing instead of his armour. He already knows about who she is, so doesn’t count or Iktik’s ultimatum, but his presence worries Amberlynn all the same.

The tall elf that he’s speaking to, though, with purple hair and a skimpy black robe? Amberlynn immediately recognises her as a daughter of House Lundar—Littorea, of around the same age as her. And she seems to be conversing quite happily with Sir Puck, her very own retainer! As Amberlynn watches her knight tell the Lundar woman a story, which that horrid elf seems to be enjoying, she feels a flash of some strong feeling in her chest—jealousy?

No, that... that can’t be it. There’s no way she’d ever be jealous of a Lundar. And Sir Puck is probably just being polite, not wanting to make a fuss in the home of an important Slavers’ Guild official. Of course, Iktik walks right up to the two of them, waving his hand in greeting.

“Hallo, elf boy! You’ve met my new slave, ain’t ya?”

And this is why Sir Puck being here could be a sticking point. Without any action of her own, he could give her away! The Lundar elf looks on with pointed interest, sipping from her glass of wine as Sir Puck hesitates for a moment, then decides to go for a polite approach.

“Um, y-yes! You’re the... the goblin that bought my Lady Amberlynn, yes?“

The purple-haired elven woman noticeably perks up at that, and it’s clear that she’s involved in the effort to try and find the enslaved Oriand. Fortunately, she doesn’t seem to have realised who’s standing right in front of her. For his part, Iktik just laughs and nods at the comment, although he makes it clear that he doesn’t have possession anymore. After that, a round of introductions follow.

It turns out that Lady Littorea Lundar is present in Kanzibar to represent their ‘trading interests’, which is news to Amberlynn. What noble elven family would want to trade with a slaver city? Once the necessary small talk is dispensed with, though, Littorea turns her attention much more strongly on the Swine Elf present, and reveals her family’s primary reason for being in Kanzibar.

“My, my... she truly is a remarkable specimen! And one of our collars around her neck as well, although... she’s quite well-trained, yes?“

Their collars. That explains how an unaffiliated city like Kanzibar has such a ready supply of the powerful magic item! And while it’s not technically illegal, Amberlynn doesn’t expect that many elven nobles know about House Lundar assisting the slave trade. That’s something to remember for when they get out, some political ammunition that might help pay back what it will cost to free her...

“Oh yes, m’lady! Well trained indeed. How about you give us a song, Truffles?“

Standing just behind Littorea, Sir Puck flashes Amberlynn a sympathetic expression, even as he tries to keep up his act of polite disdain towards the goblin. The ‘disdain’ part of that doesn’t seem too difficult for him, but in a scenario like this, he’s likely to be kicked out if he raises a stink.

“A... oink~... a song? Um, of course! Oink!“

If she performs poorly as Truffles, then her ability to resist Iktik’s commands will be fully put to the test. So, Amberlynn takes a moment to think, before remembering something that one of her customers at the tavern had made her sing. Taking a deep breath, and trying to push down the rising sense of shame, and ever-present arousal, she launches into it.

“I’m a stupid Swine Elf, short and stout, oink~!“

The tune is to an old children’s rhyme, one that both Sir Puck and Littorea would recognise. There are actions to go with it as well—the next line includes her pointing to the parts of her body that are mentioned.

“Here are my jugs, and here is my snout, oink~!“

By this point, Lady Lundar has put a hand to her mouth, her chest shaking in some suppressed emotion. Is she sympathetic to Amberlynn’s plight, pushing down sobs against the unfair treatment of a fellow elf?

“If you wanna fuck me, give a shout, oink~!“

“Grab my tail, and stretch me out, oink~!“

Sir Puck looks away at the final line, rubbing the back of his head with an awkward blush—he’s been present at the Shackled Swan for enough of her shifts to know how common an occurrence that is. Only her mouth or anus, at least, but that’s still completely undignified for an elven noble. Not so for a Swine Elf, though...

“Ahaha! Oh my, this is excellent!“

Peals of tinkly laughter come forth from Littorea’s delicate mouth, her refined, slender body giving her plenty of height from which to look down on Truffles. It’s clear that she has no sympathy whatsoever, and thinks that it’s very funny to watch a former elf being degraded like this. In fact, she goes even further than that, stepping closer to run a hand over the curve of Amberlynn’s sumptuous bosom.

“Maybe I should buy you myself, hmm? I’ve heard that the Oriands are having trouble with their truffle hogs—perhaps a Swine Elf would revitalise their breeding stock... what do you think of that, Truffles?”

Despite all her mental preparation against the inevitable humiliation, all through the song and the looks from the nobles, it’s that comment which shakes her the hardest. For just a moment, even though she knows it’s not possible, she imagines how it would feel to be taken back to her family’s estates, to be bred to the pigs that underpin their finances...

Iktik gives a subtle tug on her chain, and the moment passes, as Amberlynn gets a hold of herself again. The collar didn’t glow, thankfully, so she hopes that Littorea will overlook the moment of hesitation before she forces herself to reply.

“Oink~! My piggy pussy is... oink~ owned by Iktik! I’ll fuck anything he oink~ tells me to! Oink~!“

The Lundar laughs again, apparently satisfied by the evasive answer, before moving onto a rather more immediate humiliation.

“Oh, will you? Then, I would say that your mouth looks like it’d be delectable on my cunt. You don’t mind, do you, goblin?“

Without even waiting for a response, she takes hold of the bronze chain connected to Amberlynn’s collar and gently tugs it from Iktik’s grasp, who only watches on in keen interest. Sir Puck looks between the Swine Elf and her master in disbelief, both at the sudden vulgarity and the act itself, but he knows that he can’t intervene. Not without insulting an elf far above his station, and risking Amberlynn’s identity to a member of the house which they’re hiding her from.

“Ah, n-not at all, m’lady! Enjoy her as much as you want!”

A few minutes later, Amberlynn finds her resolve sorely tested. After pushing her down to the ground of the side room, Littorea deftly made the crotch of her pants disappear, revealing a pussy already slick with arousal. Her pubic hair is sculpted into the shape of a heart, as purple as the hair on her head, and Amberlynn gets an awfully close look.

She recognises well the scent of female arousal, of course, as Iktik continues to deny her orgasms, but to be face to pussy with another woman—especially an elf—is new. The clientele of the Shackled Swan are almost entirely men, and of the few women that frequent the establishment, none of them have a taste for pork.

“What are you waiting for, you stupid sow? Dig in!”

Despite everything, that little insult still rankles with Amberlynn. This can’t be that different to performing oral sex on men (and orcs, and dwarves, and goblins, and...), right? And she’s meant to be playing the role of a happy, obedient Swine Elf. So, after only her first moment’s hesitation, Amberlynn leans in and starts to lick, slurp, and suck at the womanhood in front of her.

“Ah~... thaaat’s it... mmmn~, maybe I should get one of you for my own...“

The warmth of the arousal in Amberlynn’s belly is rivalled only by the burning shame of orally pleasuring one of her house’s sworn enemies—and not even being forced into it by the magic of the collar. Instead, she’s doing it herself, to show how well-trained she is.

Littorea’s pussy clamps down on the Swine Elf’s questing tongue, as the Lundar elf’s hand reaches down to twine itself into what she thinks is Truffles’ hair. Using that as a handhold, she pulls her snout closer into the dripping crotch in front of it, filling Amberlynn’s sensitive nostrils with the scent of female excitement.

“I guess that... nngh~... putting lipstick on a pig isn’t such a bad idea... aaahn~... after all!“

Snuffling oinks bubble up from Amberlynn’s throat as her mouth is used to please another elf. And not even Puck, who she probably wouldn’t even mind servicing! He’s done so much to try and help her, after all, and hasn’t seemed judgmental in the slightest...

Her train of thought is derailed when Littorea’s hand clenches tighter, and her hips buck against Amberlynn’s face, spraying her juices in an effusive orgasm—something which Amberlynn is denied.

“AAHN~!“

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Littorea doesn’t quite let go yet, gazing down into Truffles’ chocolate brown eyes. But then her gaze sharpens, and the corner of her mouth quirks up, as what she says next causes Amberlynn to freeze in place.

“I’ve always wanted to do that to an Oriand...”

It’s clear that any attempt to change her mind would be doomed to fail, and Amberlynn isn’t even sure what it is that gave her away. Sir Puck? Her reaction to the pig comment? Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter. Littorea is convinced and, more than anything, she’s correct. But even as Amberlynn’s enemy has her in her clutches, the Lundar woman releases her and steps away. Waving her hand dismissively, she rolls her eyes at the look of confusion.

“Oh, please. I think this condition is much more amusing than whatever my parents had planned for you. I’ll leave you with the goblin, to do with you what he wants. And even if your dear old dad manages to rescue you, and turn you back... I’ll always know what happened. Now go on, run along back to your master.“

With a sigh of relief, and a furtive look back, Amberlynn does exactly that. She’s just narrowly escaped being captured by her house’s enemies, all due to the whims of one perverted elf, which is... good. It’s good that she isn’t being handed over to people who would use her against House Oriand!

But she can’t help but wonder if that might have been a better path than staying with Iktik...

Littorea doesn’t return to the party after that, slipping out as Truffles returns to her master, enduring a round of knowing looks from the gathered guests. They’re all rather too unsure of their position to assert themselves like that, though, as Amberlynn often observes in mid-rank nobles.

Which is a relief. It means that she only needs to jiggle around at the end of Iktik’s chain, oinking and humiliating herself in front of these men, but their actions don’t progress past groping. Mr. Grundle is present as well, apparently content to let his guests marvel at this new, exciting slave. Sir Puck continues to watch, of course, although the look on his face is inscrutable.

At one point, somehow, Iktik contrives a way to feed her a large glass of goblin semen. It’s not even his own, which Amberlynn is ashamed to admit she can tell by the taste, but it still has the same effect of bolstering her still-unsated arousal.

Barely cognizant of the latter half of the party, Amberlynn just turns her mind inwards and thoughtlessly obeys, focusing her core of mental fortitude on resisting the burning ache in her loins. Even when she and Iktik leave, walking through the streets back to his cabin, she barely notices. It’s only once they’re past his threshold, that the goblin gives her corkscrewed tail a hard tug.

“OIIIINK~!“

Jerking back to awareness, it takes Amberlynn a moment to realise where she is, and that the party is over. She managed to get through it, and... her hopes start to rise again, as she realises that Iktik might not even know that Littorea recognised her. The Lundar elf certainly didn’t raise a stink, after all!

“Well, that went better’n I thought. The purple-haired bitch left pretty quick, an’ your elf-boy kept his mouth shut! D’you think anyone discovered ya?”

Amberlynn tries to resist telling him, she really does. She’d just spend almost an entire day without the collar pressing against her consciousness, and for a moment, she thinks that she might be able to lie. But Iktik has already asked her far too many direct questions, and the collar hardly needs to glow at all as it wrings the truth from her.

“The... the Lundar woman... oink~... she worked out who I was, then... oink~... decided n-not to do anything about it.“

There’s a moment of silence, as Iktik takes that information in. His body seems to react before he does, with his leathery sheath starting to throb under his loincloth, as the shaft inside it engorges. Then, as he fully realises what Amberlynn’s admission means, a wide grin stretches across his lips.

“Go on. Up on the bed, hands an’ knees.”

Amberlynn hesitates for just a moment, before the collar nudges her to obey. This, after all, isn’t an order to let him fuck her. It’s just a position for her to take, which might lend itself to... her being spanked in punishment, perhaps. Her thighs rub together, slick with her grool, as she climbs onto the bed facing into the room.

“Oiiiink~...... oiiiink~...... oiiiink~...... oiiiink~......“

Her breathing gets heavier as Iktik’s schlong emerges, filling the room with his heady, pungent musk. She’s managed to build up some tolerance to it over the last few days, but with how horny she is right now, after being edged for three days straight, the stench feels like it pierces right through her.

“Now, jus’ stay right there, okay?”

Iktik climbs up onto the bed behind her, his rough hands feeling red hot on her body, and Amberlynn once more accedes to his order. This is another that he’s given her many times, and besides, he’s just doing it to make it easier to move around her, right? Deciding that this still isn’t an order to let him fuck her, and Amberlynn steels herself to resist the third order that must be on its way.

She’s not going to let him do this, of course. It’s the final barrier of her dignity remaining, the chastity between her legs that will ensure a good husband. Giving it to a lowly, disgusting goblin would not do at all, no matter how much her sodden pussy throbs in arousal. Iktik uses his thumb to part her plump labia, then takes a moment to align his flared, monstrous prick with the opening.

One of the goblin’s hands moves to her rear, bracing himself for what comes next, and Amberlynn mentally does the same, ready to fully deny all that Iktik wants. Except, of course, no third order ever comes. Why would Iktik need to command Amberlynn to let him fuck her, when by following the ‘harmless’ commands without question, she’s already doing exactly that?

“Tha’s a good girl, Truffles.”

Pressing his hips forward, Iktik then plunges his goblinoid shaft into a hole perfectly designed to accommodate it—and Amberlynn’s surprise is consumed by the immediate, powerful orgasm that wracks her body. Grasping her tail with his other hand, the goblin doesn’t hold back from using it to tug himself deeper, dragging an answering squeal from her lungs with every pull.

“OIIINK~! W-wait, this is... OINK~! S-stop it! This is... OINK~! OINK~! Unfaaaaair!“

It’s only when her initial orgasm has run its course, and the dulling of her mind clears, that Amberlynn truly realises what just happened. Iktik didn’t trick, beguile, or force her. He simply moved her into position, with admittedly some help from her powerful arousal, and then fucked her—without any resistance at all.

“Unfair? Mmmf~! Unfair is... ahhn~... me not taking this perfect pussy before now!“

The pliable nature of his cock allows the goblin to force all ten inches inside of her with each thrust, his ballsack slapping her swollen clit, while the knobbly shaft scrapes against her insides. And, exactly like how ‘Goblinology, An Empirical Study’ describes it, the ridged flare encircling the bulbous tip fits perfectly around Amberlynn’s cervix.

Initially, she thought that the change to her vulva was only skin deep, making it juicier and more appealing to Iktik (and her customers). But as he continues to pound into her, powerful waves of pleasure emanate from her vagina, which moulds to the goblin’s misshapen penis like a glove.

“Nnnnn-OINK~! P-please Iktik, I... OINK~!“

Unlike when sucking him off, she’s free to draw in long, oinking breaths of relatively fresh air, which keeps her mind (mostly) lucid. Aside from how much the fucking itself affects her, which has already brought her to another reluctant climax, Amberlynn is fully aware of what’s happening, including how the charge of mana builds inside Iktik’s testicles.

“Nearly... nngh~... nearly th-there...“

When Iktik speeds up, thrusting harder as he bends over his soft, jiggling Swine Elf, Amberlynn knows that she’ll have to rely on her last line of defence. Goblin jizz isn’t meant to change her in one fell swoop! And unlike with the breast enlargement, or her time in the transformative goop, Iktik hasn’t forbidden her from resisting.

As long as she can last until her father arrives to rescue her, everything’s going to be okay. She’s sure of it. Unfortunately, as Iktik plunges in for his final thrust, pressing the bulbous tip against the entrance to her baby-maker, that’s hard to keep in mind.

“AAAAHN~!”

“OIIIIIINK~!”

Hot, gelatinous goblin jizz sprays through her cervix, splattering against the walls of her hallowed, unblemished uterus—and even with one last orgasm wracking her body, Amberlynn cringes in disgust at the desecration. But even worse than that, is the mana that flows with it. Right into her womb, the goblin’s natural magic swirls around, much like it did in her belly, but she can tell that it won’t dissipate this time.

Instead, it spreads out, sinking into her soft tissue. It sullies her womanhood with its foul magic, and even with the presence of her defences, she can feel herself start to change... before the mana runs out, leaving the transformation only a small way towards completion. That doesn’t keep the rest of Iktik’s gross cum from being deposited inside of her, of course.

But now, Amberlynn feels that she has a chance. Even with that last barrier passed, and the strong possibility of Iktik attempting to breed her again, she only needs her body to oppose the goblin’s revolting corruption until her father arrives to rescue her—Iktik can only muster so much mana in a day, after all! When he finally pulls out with a wet schlorp, and a soft oink in response, she slumps forward onto the bed, as his chunky semen oozes from her well-fucked cunt. Both her body and mind are exhausted, but she’s managed to endure.

For now, at least...