I awake tucked under a different blanket in the same dark room. And officially feel the worst I've ever felt in my life. At least I'm not dead. I'm just bruised, battered, broken, scraped, scratched, sprained, sore, stiff, a little concussed and very happy to be alive.
I'm less happy to be back in Gordon's room, but I almost escaped once. I'll just wait for another opportunity. I can probably safely say I'll survive my injuries by now, my grandmother told me if a goblin could sleep she'd be fine by the morning. A rude orcish trader compared our survivability to that of cockroaches.
The problem with surviving is that I need to figure out what the hell to do next. Sitting up slowly I decided to take stock.
I'm alone in Gordon's room on a clean mattress. The room seems to of been cleaned thoroughly while I slept, the cum puddle is gone without a trace and the faint smell of soap, wood-ash and vinegar suggests someone has cleaned it properly. The stack of dirty dishes has been taken away and any sign that there had ever been dust was gone. I couldn't see my bag anywhere though.
The shutters were open letting in plenty of fresh air and light. I would guess it was half an hour or so from dawn.
Inspecting myself I found I'd been changed into a silk nightgown.
Gordon undressed me.
I try to swallow my panic by focusing on my wounds. I have tons of small bruises all over my body and a particularly bad one on my stomach, presumably from Gordon's kick. The skin on my right shoulder is shredded from where I hit the ground and my elbows and knees have deep cuts. My right wrist is sore and moving that hand's fingers is painful, so I've likely broken it. My left ankle is sore but I think I just pulled a ligament or something.
The injury I worried about the most was my head injury, but besides a residue grogginess, it doesn't seem as bad as I thought. I do have a deep wound hidden by my hair though. The hair around it is gummed up by dry blood, which I'm sure will be fun to brush out later. My cuts must have stopped bleeding long before I woke up and seem to have been washed and by the smell, I think disinfected. From the lack of dust or dry blood on my skin someone probably wiped me down.
I don't want to think about that.
Overall I'm very sore but much better off than I thought I would be.
Except I need to pee and have a mad thirst.
Luckily there's a cup and pitcher of water nearby, and a clean chamber pot that wasn't in Gordon's room the last time I was awake. My blood rushes from my head when I try to stand up, and I have to wait a second to recover before going about my needs.
So, I'm in the house of a man who nearly killed me. I've got nothing on me other than a night dress and I don't know where my bag or money is. So that's not good. I quickly decide to take my chances outside and not risk meeting Gordon again. But when I limp over to the outside door, it's locked tight and Gordon probably has the key.
Ok, he has my money, rucksack and the key to the door.
Into the courtyard it is then. At least this door doesn't have a lock.
I press my ear against the wooden door and hear multiple women talking outside. Can I trust them? Gordon said the other women here were like me, so presumably they would understand and help me escape.
But surely they could all leave if they wanted to? Gordon must have been away for months, so it's not like this place could run like a prison. Someone has to go out to do shopping at least. So why do they stay?
Are they blackmailed? Emotionally abused until they don't believe they would survive leaving?
An uncomfortable thought comes to me. Maybe they all want to be here. Gordon said they were desperate like me, but that doesn't mean they might not be loyal to him and I doubt I can trust what he said while he was crying.
Or maybe he lied to them like he lied to the orcs on the street.
Even so, I'm stuck here until I go out into the courtyard, I'll listen in until it sounds like they leave, then search the courtyard for an escape.
I wait quietly by the door for fifteen minutes, until I realize the sky is getting darker, not brighter. It's evening not morning like I thought.
Well shit, I must have slept a whole day then. At least this means the women probably won't hang out in the courtyard much longer.
Just as I think that all the women's voices cut out at once, a few moments pass and then I hear multiple doors closing.
Ok, that was a bit sudden, but I'll take whatever opportunity I can get, I open the door a crack to peek outside just to stare straight into a giant green stack of elderly orc ab.
Oh, I guess Gordon wasn't lying about his women not liking him, they all just left the courtyard to escape him.
Gordon pulls the door open.
I start limping backwards to get away. He grins at me, I don't think he's trying to be charming.
"It's incredible how much you've healed in a few days. I was beginning to worry my efforts would be wasted." He says, closing the door behind him.
"I had hoped to persuade you slowly, but you wasted our first day together with that stunt and you've wasted another 3 sleeping. You wasted so much of my time I have to go back to sea tomorrow, and I can't find myself trusting you to be here when I return.
"But you owe me, Pimple. Maybe you thought you could leave your shithole isle to escape whatever petty crap you're running from, and then any man would help adorable little you. I bet you thought you were so smart, independent, and sexy when you let me take you around town, took the clothes I bought you and the dinner I paid for. I BET you thought you could get away with a kiss on my cheek and a smile and then go out and find the next guy to mooch off."
"But you owe me, tiny miss Pimple of Perrifare. And I don't let my debtors walk away."
He's still walking towards me. And I'm still limping backwards.
"3nail the first night's dinner, 2finger'20 for the clothes, 32nail for fine dining. Then I'll add 40nail for the embarrassment outside, 3finger'30 for the healer and for my wives to nurse you, I would think 1finger'10 for that nightgown, don't tell me you weren't going to take it. And another finger for insulting me. So what's that? 9finger'15.
"I wonder how much your dowry was? I assume you were running from another collector. You silver-haired girls are too rare an opportunity to leave be, let alone such an adorable one. Perhaps I owe him a little bronze for damaging his bride."
I'm backed against the wall, he towers above me, he looks like he's enjoying himself.
He slaps me, only gently, but the weight of his hand is enough to push my head to the side. I can't bring myself to look back at him.
"Never say, little Pimple, that I'm not a generous man. I'll let you settle your credit tonight, and really I'm paying a king's ransom for just a night with a goblin whore. Then once I'm gone tomorrow you can stay here as long as you like for free, I think my wives would love to continue looking after you."
His fingers are still touching my cheek, they caress me a moment before sliding down to wrap hard around my throat. The sudden violence scares me enough I think I might have wet myself if I hadn't gone before.
He's choking me. He's choking me and then he's going to rape me.
I'm too hurt to run, too small to fight, he wouldn't do this if he thought anyone would come if I screamed.
I don't care, I won't let this be easy for him. He's still pinning me against the wall by my neck, but I start struggling under his grip.
He laughs at my effort. "It's really a shame I screwed up so badly, I'd love it if you let me keep you. If I had a little more time I'm sure I could have persuaded you."
Tears pool over my eyes, my face must be going more red than pink. But he keeps his chokehold. With his other hand, he unties the cord belt on his waist and pulls his pants to his knees.
I'm face to face with his erect cock.
I try to cough, but it can't pass the hand on my neck, I'm going to choke to death soon. I put my hands on his waist and try vainly to push his dick away from me.
"I think we'll go once with your mouth, then see if goblins are as fertile as they say you are. I wasn't lying about needing a son, and I have good reason to think you'll give me one little pixie. And if you do get pregnant, there won't be anywhere safer for you and our son than this villa."
With his free hand he directs the tip of his cock a centimetre from my lips. "Bite and I'll break your neck."
He fills my mouth, then moves both hands to the back of my head, pushing it down my throat. I still don't get a breath in as orc dick crushes my windpipe through my throat.
She-goblins don't grow tusks, but we do still have pretty impressive canines and incisors. If my mouth wasn't too full to close I think I might have been able to bite straight through.
But I do draw blood.
He punches me hard in the stomach while he pulls his bleeding worm from my mouth.
Crumbling to my knees, I'm free for the first time to suck in a BREATH.
But it isn't air that enters my lungs. It's a fast, cold energy that pushes itself through my lungs and fills my body to bursting. Even once the cold energy has reached my fingertips it doesn't stop moving. It flows and churns inside me like a gail stuck in a bottle. This isn't air I've breathed, but something even less substantial. And it won't let me exhale.
Gordon falls upon me where I'm spasming on the ground, he punches my ribs and with furious hands fondles and tears at my nightgown.
I'm stunned by his punch, but even the hit to my lungs can't force out the writhing energy. I'm not just struggling from Gordon, but struggling to move my diaphragm to pull in real air, I'm drowning in energy.
The energy isn't as cold anymore. It's heating up as it moves, and its turbulent flow is speeding up inside of me.
Gordon pushes apart my spasming thighs as he tries to line himself up.
The churning energy is still heating, an instinct I've never felt before tells me I'll die if I don't force this energy out of my body soon.
Gordon thrusts, but misses thanks to my thrashing. I would scream if I could as I push my broken hand against his stomach, desperately trying to keep him away.
A pathway opens between my hand and Gordon. I can feel it like a thread through my arm and into his gut. The energy is boiling now.
He thrusts again, but I pull myself an inch along the ground and he misses again. His hands are bruising my thighs were he grabs me.
Desperate for air, and with hate in my heart I feel the burning, churning power finally bend to my will. I want him away from me. It stops flowing in chaotic vortices and for one heartbeat is frozen still. Then with a terrible synchronicity, it gathers as one and flows through the pathway.
If the energy in me was like a gale stuck in a bottle, then trying to push the energy through my broken hand into Gordon's abdomen is like trying to push an ocean into a teacup.
The vessel is too small. The pathway is too narrow.
The vessel breaks.
Gordon pops wetly.
The pathway severs.
My forearm snaps in the middle.
My mind goes blank. The vacuum left by the energy nullifies my sense of self. For a moment I'm empty, without any life or substance.
My body and Gordon's corpse drift weightlessly from the ground, my silver hair flows in front of my eyes as if underwater.
The spell breaks when my body instinctually gasps for air. My spirit and substance rush back into me and I fall half a metre with a thud, coughing and gasping. Gordon falls with a splat a few meters away with a tree trunk sized hole through his abdomen.
His blood and giblets rain around us, soaking my silver hair cherry.
