Lair of the Dragon
The shuttle car arrived. It was a simple black sedan, an actual older model. It had a metal frame, which given its uneven sheen has been replaced over and over. There might have been an attempt to repair or even conserve it in the past, but it was simply cheaper to replace the parts, to get rid of the older segments for the new metal, even if it wasn’t as good. How fitting for the town they slowly spiraled back up to.
The interior was a nicer material, but still a cruder, coarser cloth than the leather of limousine. The windows were smoked as well, dark but not as dark. Not like the pitch black pane between the front and the back that they sat in now. Francis tried to call it a limo once... ONCE... Needless to say, he doesn’t call it that anymore. Not in front of Eve.
Whom was on her phone again. Her country songs filled the cabin; where, though, Francis still wasn’t sure. As old a car as it was, he couldn’t see a seam or crease where the wires, the speakers could fit, yet they were there. Those whiny tones were carved into his mind forevermore, with still no way to alleviate it. Even the slightest. Though, if he were allowed one, he wouldn’t want to stain the screen with the blood on his hands, if not crack it from his natural rage. His anger might have no longer been a great pyre, but it was still hot enough to sizzle the coals, so he watched out the right window of the back seat, waiting for them to rise above the concrete well they had descended into.
He huffed, leaning back hard into the bright, white cloth. He needed to get comfortable, so he shimmied in it, crusting off the bloody flakes into it, grinding them in and staining the white fabric. He rapped his fingers on the gray door, besmirching it, leaving a nice, round, browned spots on it. He dug his nails into their center, twisting, turning as the car continued to ascend, shaving off the plastic until he could just feel the metal of the exterior, screeching so softly as they met. Eve finally noticed and shot him a dirty look; he didn’t need to see it to feel the blue flames upon his cheek, so he quickly pulled back his hand... but still grimaced, and rocked and shimmied.
“I’ll have you repair and reupholster this vehicle,” she stated. “Don’t tempt me.”
“What! I’m bored.”
“You are not an infant, Frankie. Stop acting like one.”
He growled, huffed, and watched as the car reached the top at last. Francis finally got his first glimpse of Prosperity once more. It was a small, farming town in Pennsylvania, little more than a street, a highway to the next destination, but, even to Eve, that was too much. She did not live in the town, itself, but kept her parking garage there, located a bit south of the market. Dawn finally warmed the fields, but its workers were already there, tending to their cattle, preparing them for the slaughter.
Francis remembered his first time emerging in this town, left wondering if he was being punked. Why would an “eccentric trillionaire”, as she put herself, live out in the boonies? Why would somebody with a supposed unfathomable mass of riches and fortune, a blessed mogul of the common era, ever choose to live in the middle of Bum-Fucked Egypt? That wasn’t how he first put it, as to be expected. In fact, he remembered his first words:
“You have got to be fucking shitting me.”
Prosperity was even less of a town than Norwick, with (SOMEHOW) even less scenery to enjoy. Norwick might have not been the prettiest, but it had trees, wild growth, unlike the cultivated fields and the hoof-trodden hills that spanned before him. And yet, somehow, it had even more traffic going through. Francis’s mind, already addled, circled into itself, grasping, tearing away at what sanity he had left, painting the walls of his skull with questions upon questions, whipped into a play, a movie of scenarios that ran over each other but always came to the same conclusion: he was being lied to. He was being taken somewhere to be killed.
But, just like the ride he was taking in the present, his mind went still, looking upon the “estate” they drove to. It was just outside of city limits, little more than a side road at its entry, a dirt road without even a sign warning of it or even lines for it. Not even a mile down it, though, it became clear this wasn’t like the old, brick buildings not even a mile away, nor the cobblestone road that was maintained there. This road, carved through the earth, itself, polished to a shine, descended into the soil and land. Then turned to marble arches. The dirt became polished shale, humming underneath. No lights still lined the road, but it wasn’t necessary. It kept heading straight, perfect, even, and only able to hold one car, until it came to the slightest listing, a “turn” to the right.
It wasn’t long from that list that a soft, blue light started to grow, blossoming through the dark pane, and not long after that the car began to slow. Francis didn’t realize the first time how fast they were truly going, but the way the car shimmied as it slowed told him they weren’t exactly going slow or within the limit... or normal limitations of the vehicle. He once asked Eve how fast they were going; she simply smiled, the only answer she needed to give before the car came to a full halt, washed in that blue light.
As it did now.
Eve sighed, putting away her phone, and had him step out of the vehicle, blinded to that blue light. She squeezed out behind him, going ahead, and Francis followed after. It was always hard to gauge her speed, even after all those months. It was in between a brisk walk and a slow jog, both of which her frame never betrayed her secret. It was as if she was gliding on the ground, as if it was rolling under her, giving her that unnatural gait, which forced Francis into a walk-stop-walkstop step just to keep pace.
They walked around the car and the fountain it was parked beside, the center of that blue sun. The water inside trickled and bubbled, glistening, cascading with such color as it wound its way down a tree carved out of the marble that made its basin. A lone apple hung from its many woven branches, where a snake wrapped around it, its fangs a sinister green, dribbling the water onto the stony fruit. The tree, itself, dwarfed all under its canopy, though. Even Francis. The arches from before loomed high overhead, the stone branches reaching for them and their bejeweled heights, gleaming like stars and reflected upon the edges of that fountain’s pool.
Eve stepped around the car at last, and waited at a set of stone steps. There were three in all, heading down to a set of stained glass doors. However, she waited, turning around and watching for Francis... then the car as it drove around the fountain. The small antechamber rumbled with its engine, hissed with its wheels as it made the arduous journey around, coming to a stop before the steps again, turned the other way. It rumbled one last time, the lights dimmed upon it, and Francis heard the driver’s door open then shut. Not long after a blot approached them through the light. It was barely taller than the bumper of the car, with the tuft on top of its head bobbing away, the bright yellow tuft clashing against the black. As it drew closer, her curves and figure could be seen against the halo that surrounded her, glistening off her deep green skin, mostly concealed inside a black suit. She wasn’t even allowed a dress, forced to wear relaxed fit dress slacks.
All the same, though, Francis straightened as he watched her approach. He fidgeted, every step that she took making it harder for him to remain still. His eyes drank in, savored every jiggle that managed to make it through her suit. She was like any goblin: stacked, curvy, and oozing desire. Just what he needed, but not who. No, there was another girl on his mind, one that didn’t have Eve’s... protection.
But Eve seemed oblivious to this.
She was tapping her foot, louder with each clack of the little goblin’s heels. Her sneer-turned-glower grew ever darker with each passing moment, waiting for the little lass to make her way to... then passed them, to the double doors beyond. As she passed, though, Francis could hear music, soft, tinny, buzzing from her, and noticed that she had earbuds in. so inconspicuous, not even worth noting normally.
But Eve did.
The goblin yelped as Eve lashed out at her, grabbing her arm as she yanked her to a halt. She picked the lass up, one-handed, by the scruff of her neck. Such... fire burned inside those milky irises, blues roaring through her body into them as it did into her shoulders, roaring with its heat. Eve plucked them out, each one given pause, to allow that music to be squelched, crushed between her thumb and index, before moving to the other. And giving it the same treatment, all while glaring into the scared little girl’s wide, purple eyes.
“What have I told you, Bel Ro?” Eve said, even slower. She made sure every syllable, every pause and word crashed into the goblin, whom was recoiling with each hit and trying to curl into herself, all while still being held up. “It is illegal to have those in while driving.”
“So sorry, ma’am,” the goblin said, chuckling sheepishly, but Francis only found it harder to keep composure, hearing the underlying moan. The goblin gulped, cleared her throat, but her voice wouldn’t still nor chill. “I-I just d-d-don’t think you would w-want to hear my music, as well as I didn’twanttoeventhinkaboutcuttingoffy-”
The goblin yelped again, dropped, while Eve pulled out a handkerchief, wiping her hands clean as she looked down upon the green girl- no. That would imply she was looking at a person with that horrid glare. Instead, it was as if she was looking at living garbage. Which, if she had it her way, if looks could kill, it would be just garbage.
The goblin picked herself up, though it took a moment to still her legs long enough to do so, and hurried to the door. Francis followed first, fighting the growl in his throat as his nose took in the scent she left behind, the smell of pure... lust. He grit his teeth, keeping his tongue behind the. He clenched his toes as he forced himself to stop a foot behind, and clenched his fists, drawing blood as he waited for her to open the doors. He almost lost all composure as she grazed by him as she backed up. It was little more than a whisper, the smallest of passings, like wind shaking the dew off the leaves in the morn... but, just like the wind, it left a glistening path from her shoulder to his pants. Thankfully, they were dark, now even darker.
The green girl shuddered, and looked back, watching the strand break between them... but the warmth didn’t touch her face. Instead, all color rushed away. All want, all need vanished in that instant, seeing that it was him that marked her, which only made it that much harder to keep still. Francis scoffed, and stormed into the entry, leaving her to quiver in his departure.
The interior was rather simple, given the other homes Eve had, but to say it was mundane would be an insult. It was little more than a flat, with two doors to the left of the entry for his bedroom and bathroom. All the way in the back, and up, was Eve’s room, reached by a spiral staircase, made of obsidian and reinforced with titanium. Off to the right was the kitchen, the counter tops also made of obsidian. The fridge, oven, dishwasher, garbage disposal, and other amenities were all titanium steel. The back, lower part of the flat was the living area, all under a fine layer of reinforced, polished, smoothed crystal. The walls shined with the softest of lights, pulsing through and into the floor, making the eighty-inch television seem to be in a rippling sea of color set before a long couch and four, plush lounge chairs.
When Francis first saw this... he was terrified. The last TV he remembered sitting before was a 24-inch tuber, and that was on a cardboard crate. Seeing this, knowing what sort of person Eve was, what kind of place she lived in, he wondered how packed this place would actually be, what kind of parties she threw... how he could keep away from it all.
Alas, all mysticism was dispelled not even a month with her. She loathed people more than him, and the extra seats were only for show. Hell, the TV was just for show; not once did he ever see her sit before it. It was always just her phone... He sighed, and kicked off his shoes next to the door- and had to disrobe, as well, given this command by Eve’s simple tap on his shoulder. He still didn’t feel comfortable stripping down around her, nor would he ever, but she always affirmed that she wasn’t looking. And would never look. So, he stripped what was left of his pants, unlaced his boots, and stepped back out onto the steps. Making sure to duck his head. There was a time he didn’t, that he didn’t realize he was as big as he thought. He came into his height over the last few months, his body nothing but pure muscle, giving the scars that sprawled across definition.
With one last shake, he finished taking off his socks, and began to move... when the door to the bathroom opened. His turgid member twitched, freed for all to see its arm-length glory, letting go another long strand onto the crystalline floor as he lost all control of his growl, rumbling into that refined cavern, with his focus, its target, stepping out into the main room. She was a goblin, as well, but it was the minor changes that made all the difference. Unlike Bel Ro, she wasn’t in a lax suit but a blue-and-white-striped tight-fit tee-shirt and black leggings, accentuating her robust, ivy green rear. She had been sweating, her warm, heart-shaped face beet, but he wasn’t looking at that nor into her deep purple eyes, shut as she came out. Rather, he was looking at her other set of purple peepers, prodding through the damp top, no bra to be seen.
She heaved a heavy sigh, making every muscle quiver under Francis’s skin, licking his lips as he watched her stretch towards the soft lights overhead. Her eyes slowly fluttered open- quickly snapped to as she saw Francis standing there in the doorway. Her soft smile faded, and he could feel the fear flow into those eyes.
“W-what are you doing back?” She said, and gasped as she finally saw Eve. “M-mistre-”
“Only finishing the bathroom, Loralei?” She said, flat. Her voice was cold enough to make those tips press even harder through the goblin’s top, which made Francis’ ache worse. “I didn’t expect you to be so lax when I am away.”
“N-no, ma’am. I... I mean, I did just finish the bath, but I can assure you I completed my other t-tasks.”
“Have you, now?” Eve took four steps into the building, each clack of her heels followed by a slight scratch, the smallest twist of her heel into the crystal floor. And the knife into the goblin’s back. “There’s a fine layer of dust on everything, and the lights haven’t been recharged. This place is only slightly lit.”
“T-that would be b-b-because I installed your dimmer sw-switch, mistress-”
“Giving sass? It’s almost as if you don’t want this job.”
“N-no, ma’am. I would never dream of sassing you, or even back-talking you-”
“Now who said anything about back-talking? Guilty conscience?”
“I don’t think I appreciate your tone... I’m going to bed for a few hours. Please consider your potential options as you continue with your duties... Francis, darling, make sure to clean up before you go to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, but the goblin didn’t ask what she meant; they knew all too well. She simply watched as Eve sauntered across the room. Her heels continued to give small twists, digging in harder with each step, scratching, carving at the floor. The last few before the steps were hard enough to leave scuffs that would most certainly need buffed out. And would inevitably wake Eve up.
This wasn’t the first time Francis saw Eve do this, but it was often the last act most goblins dealt with under her employ. It never seemed to occur to the little green lasses to gauge when Eve usually wakes up so as to do the buffing just before she does. Instead, they immediately got to it and lead to their own termination. Then again, Francis didn’t expect any less from the creatures that were little more than sex on legs. There was a reason why so many were chomping at the bit to take these jobs, and there would always be hundreds more to replace them. After all, it was often better than the alternatives.
Francis simply stood there, watching the goblin, waiting to see what she would do. The other goblin, whatever her name was, already retreated to the employee’s shack across the compound. It was little more than a clay door with a few cots inside, which was still more than most goblins got. But he didn’t care about those; they had protection, full-time employment. Loralei didn’t; she was left, dangling in the wind, to the whim of her master.
She was still locked in her stupor, still dripping with sweat –turned cold if those lovely bits were anything to go by. They looked hard enough to cut rock, which was good since he had a stone she needed to work. However, he had to wait, had to see what she did. He had hopes for this one: most of the goblins would mop first then clean the room they were in... Loralei finally blinked, shook her head, and started towards the scuffs.
Gave her too much credit, he thought, and started towards her.
When she stopped.
“No. Wait. That’s stupid,” she mumbled to herself. It was little more than a whisper, a breeze, but it carried to him. Which made him stop. “That’s what she wants me to do- of course she wants me to do it. She wants me to do everything- you know what I mean... Let’s see... when does she usually get u-”
“Noon,” he said, making her jump. “She usually gets up at noon.”
The goblin wheeled and squeaked, recoiling as she found him right behind. Her breasts swung and just caught his member, leaving another trail to break off between, staining her top even more.
“F-Francis,” she spluttered out, clearing her throat again. “That r-re-reminds me. What are you d-doing b- er, I mean, why aren’t you in school?”
“Had an early day, being the first day and all.”
“O-oh... T-they still do t-”
“No. Not really. I’m a special case. So special they are giving me the rest of the week, too... Then again, you already knew I was special, didn’t you?”
“O-oh y-y-yes. Very special. Mistress says so-”
“And you know it, don’t you?” He reached out... and stroked her cheek. She shut her eyes, going perfectly still until his index touched, making her jump. It was the smallest jerk, though, returned to stone as he traced it then her jaw. Then started towards her throat. He felt her gulp, felt her breath catch as his hand continued ever lower, resting on her shoulder. “Well, Loralei?”
“I... I have work to do, Master Francis,” she said, and lost control of her voice, moaning as his other hand brushed her thigh. Her eyes were still shut, but he watched as the tears built and fell as his hand on her shoulder slid down her front, groping her left breast. Her legs gave as he pulled and tugged on it. Her juices could be felt through the leggings has he tugged on her nip, finally tearing the fabric it worked so hard against.
“You do,” he said, and hoisted her up by her thigh and breast, mashing it in his hand as he raised her onto his member, balancing her along it. She slid on it, back and forth, adding more juices as his own seemed to melt the black fabric, exposing the puffy green lips there and the little pink bud that ached and throbbed against him. Forget the shower; he was about to get messy anyways. “I can assure you, this’ll be the hardest job of the night.”
“Please,” she whimpered, the rest of her plea lost as his tongue assaulted those lips, whisking her off to his room. He loved a woman with brains; made it all the sweeter to fuck them out. A goblin with brains? He was in for a treat.