Chapter 8: The War Council's Welcome
The war council chamber stank of goblin musk and old iron.
Candice knelt on the cold stone floor, her thighs slick with drying seed, her jaw aching from the brutal face-fucking Thresh had given her. Beside her, Morgana was already composing herself—wiping cum from her chin with the back of her hand, her purple eyes scanning the room with the cold calculation of a merchant assessing inventory.
The chamber was smaller than the throne room but no less terrible. A massive table of welded shields dominated the center, its surface scarred by blade marks and old bloodstains. Torches sputtered in iron sconces, casting dancing shadows across the walls. And around that table stood twelve goblins.
Not the scrawny, hunched creatures Candice had killed by the dozen during her years as the village hero. These were elites—warriors who had survived decades of brutal combat, their bodies thick with muscle, their eyes gleaming with intelligence and cruelty. Each one stood at least eight feet tall, their green skin crisscrossed with scars, their tusks yellowed and sharp.
And every single one of them was hard.
Thresh moved behind her, his massive hand settling on her shoulder like a lead weight.
"War council," he rumbled. "Meet your new Goblin Whore Queens."
The goblins didn't speak. They just stared—at her breasts, still bare and heaving, at the mark on her stomach that pulsed with soft pink light, at the cum dripping down her thighs. Candice felt her face burn. She wanted to cover herself, to run, to do anything but kneel there like a piece of meat on display.
But her body wouldn't move.
Her mark throbbed with heat, and beneath the shame, beneath the horror, something else stirred. Something hungry.
"Morgana," Thresh said. "You first. Show them what a whore queen does."
Morgana rose to her feet with fluid grace, her full hips swaying as she approached the nearest goblin—a massive brute with a shattered tusk and a network of scars across his chest. She didn't hesitate. Didn't flinch. She simply dropped to her knees before him and took his cock into her mouth like she'd been waiting her whole life for the privilege.
The goblin grunted, his massive hand tangling in her purple hair.
"That's it," Thresh murmured. "Watch, Candice. Watch how a proper whore behaves."
Candice watched.
Morgana's head bobbed rhythmically, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. The goblin was huge—not as large as Thresh, but still enough to stretch her jaw, to make her throat bulge with each deep thrust. She took him easily, her hands gripping his thighs for leverage, her eyes half-closed with something that looked terrifyingly like contentment.
"Good," the goblin rasped. "Fucking good."
Candice's mark flared.
She felt it—a pulse of heat that started in her stomach and radiated outward, filling her chest, her limbs, her cunt. Her nipples hardened painfully. Her pussy clenched around nothing, already wet again despite the loads she'd already taken.
No. No, no, no—
Thresh's grip on her shoulder tightened.
"Your turn."
He yanked her to her feet by her hair. The pain was sharp, blinding, and she cried out—but he didn't stop. He dragged her across the chamber, past the table, past the watching goblins, until she stood before a warrior even larger than the others. This one had eyes like coals, black and depthless, and a cock that curved upward, thick and veined and glistening with precum.
"Suck it," Thresh commanded.
Candice's mouth opened. To protest. To beg. To say anything that might delay the inevitable.
But no words came.
The goblin grabbed her by the back of the head and shoved her down.
His cock filled her mouth, her throat, her world. She gagged instantly, her eyes watering, her hands flying up to push against his thighs—but he was immovable. He held her there, impaled on his length, while she struggled and choked and felt her body betray her.
Her mark blazed.
Her cunt dripped.
"That's it," the goblin growled. "Choke on it, whore."
He started moving. Slow at first, letting her feel every inch, every vein. Then faster, harder, until he was fucking her face with the same brutal rhythm Thresh had used. Spit ran down her chin. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her throat made wet, obscene sounds with each thrust.
And her mark grew brighter.
She could feel it—the power building inside her, swelling with each degradation. Every gag, every choke, every drop of precum that hit her tongue was fuel. Her mana reserves expanded, pressing against the limits of her level.
"Look at her," Morgana said from somewhere behind her, her voice throaty with arousal. "She's glowing."
Candice couldn't respond. Couldn't think. The goblin's cock was hitting the back of her throat, and she was swallowing around him, her body acting on instinct, her mind drowning in a sea of shame and heat.
"Enough," Thresh said.
The goblin pulled out. Candice gasped, air flooding her lungs, drool dripping from her lips. Before she could recover, Thresh grabbed her arm and bent her over the council table.
"Now you take it properly," he said.
She heard the goblin step behind her. Felt his massive hands grip her hips. Felt the blunt head of his cock press against her entrance.
"No—" she whispered.
He thrust inside.
Her scream echoed off the walls.
He was bigger than Thresh—not by much, but enough. Enough to stretch her, fill her, split her open. She felt every inch as he pushed deeper, felt her cunt clench around him, felt the head of his cock press against her cervix.
"Fuck," the goblin groaned. "Tight. So fucking tight."
He started moving.
The first thrust knocked the breath from her lungs. The second made stars burst behind her eyes. By the third, she was coming—her body convulsing, her cunt gripping him like a fist, her scream dissolving into a moan.
"That's it," Morgana said, suddenly beside her. The witch's hand found Candice's breast, fingers pinching her nipple hard enough to hurt. "Come for him. Come like the slut you are."
"I'm not—" Candice gasped.
"You are." Morgana's fingers moved lower, finding her clit, rubbing tight circles while the goblin continued his brutal rhythm. "You're a slut, Candice. You've always been a slut. You just didn't know it."
The words hit harder than any thrust.
Because they were true.
Candice came again, harder this time, her body shaking, her mark blazing so bright it cast shadows on the walls. The goblin roared and flooded her cunt with thick, hot seed—so much that it spilled out around his cock, dripping down her thighs, pooling on the stone floor.
But he wasn't done.
Neither were the others.
What followed was a blur of green skin and throbbing cocks and endless, brutal fucking. One goblin replaced another. Then another. They took turns with her mouth, her tits, her cunt. They flipped her over, bent her in half, licked her clean only to fill her again.
Morgana worked beside her, always beside her—sucking one cock while Candice rode another, or eating her out while a goblin fucked her from behind. The witch's tongue was relentless, her fingers skilled, her mouth hot and wet and knowing.
"See?" Morgana whispered between cocks. "See how good it feels?"
Candice couldn't answer. Couldn't speak. Her throat was raw, her jaw aching, her body sore in ways she hadn't known were possible.
But she kept coming.
Load after load, orgasm after orgasm, her mark burning brighter, her power growing. She swallowed cum until her stomach felt bloated. She took cocks in her ass until she screamed. She let them fuck her tits while she jerked off two more with her hands.
And through it all, Thresh watched from his corner of the room, his crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"Enough, we shall leave and you go to your rooms to rest" he finally said.
The goblins backed away. Candice collapsed onto the floor, her body a trembling, dripping mess. She couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything but lie there, gasping, while the evidence of her degradation cooled on her skin.
Morgana crawled over to her, her own body covered in sweat and seed and spit.
"Look at you," the witch murmured. "You did so well."
"Fuck off," Candice whispered.
Morgana laughed. "Still got some fight in you. Good. You'll need it."
Candice's mark pulsed—not with heat this time, but with something else. Something deeper. She felt it spreading through her body, warm and tingling, like mana rushing through her veins after a long rest.
She felt it filling her, expanding, pushing against the boundaries of her level.
Then it broke through.
The sensation was indescribable. Like drowning in honey, like burning in ice, like every nerve ending in her body firing at once. Her back arched. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. And her mana—her terrible, pink, corrupted mana—surged outward in a wave that made the torches flicker and the goblins flinch.
Level 50.
She'd reached level 50.