Balsam grimaced and squirmed in his chair.

Oh. This... this was bad.

Balsam wasn't an arrogant man, but he really hated being kept waiting.

It wasn't about the insult. Balsam was proud of this assignment—he was one of the king's most trusted ambassadors, and he knew he was well-regarded for his discretion, his attention to detail and decorum, and his easy way of talking to people. Being a diplomat to the Monster Lands was not easy. Everyone expected you to be silver-tongued, and the girls who called the dangerous valley home knew how to handle a silver-tongued diplomat—especially one cursed with Balsam's generally good looks.

Balsam didn't try for any of that, and that was why he'd been sent. He was humble, good at deflecting attention, and happy to be able to be of service here. He didn't mind that the Witch Queen obviously had more important matters to attend to.

But Balsam also knew how dangerous it was to spend too long in the Witchkeep.

Almost as infamous as the Witch Queen herself was the castle she had spelled into being, a crown of scorched charcoal spears piercing the sky, a cursed edifice of metal and dark, smoky glass. Shapes always seemed to twist out of the corner of his eye, writhing through every reflection in the opaque colored crystal that made up the walls of the waiting room.

It was a pleasant sitting room. The couches and chairs were woven of fine silks and covered with ornate patterns, no doubt embroidered by the most skilled silkwyrms. Thanks to the glass filtering the moonlight above, a pleasing rosy hue shone down upon him. It was warm, and the fireplace crackled with green fire. Next to his chair rested a small table, upon which stood a silver platter with a crystal chalice full of deep violet wine. The wine bubbled occasionally. He hadn't touched it.

It was a pleasant place to wait for his meeting. In theory.

The trouble was, Balsam knew with a pang of dread in his heart, every second spent here was a second for one of the ladies-in-waiting, one of the knights, the chefs, the maids—any of the Witch Queen's servants, frankly—to get it into their head that, oh, Balsam the human diplomat was so handsome indeed, with his wide green eyes and his slender build, and what a wonderful loveslave he would make to a smiling holstaur or a bewitching wraith...

Every second he spent waiting here was a second for one of the Witch Queen's servants to lose her will to resist—and try to take away his will, too. And while Balsam was quite prepared to head off any advances, and he was quite confident his willpower would suffice to handle any basic temptation... well, not all the monster girls here would bother to ask permission before trying to 'seduce' him, nor would all of them restrain their seduction to words and eye contact. Balsam was what the soldiers who had delivered him had not-so-diplomatically termed 'soft'. Delicate. Breakable. He was a man of words, not action, on an assignment where most of the ladies he spoke with were very... vigorously action-oriented.

So when someone who was not the Witch Queen entered the sitting room, his heart positively fluttered into his throat and flew for cover, and he barely held in a cry of alarm.

Which promptly turned into him barely holding in a slight laugh.

It wasn't any wraith or holstaur or witch-in-training.

It was, he realized, feeling somewhat relieved, merely a goblin. One of the lowest of the Witch Queen's forces, with essentially no innate mind control whatsoever—and, well, standing at about his waist-height (including those perky, pointy ears of hers), her physical prowess couldn't be much better!

She was gorgeous, though. She blinked up at him as she entered, her eyes only partially concealed behind a parchment-thin veil of lavender silk wafting over the top of her face. Her long ebony hair was done up in impossibly elaborate braids, no doubt woven by those very long and nimble fingers she was using to straighten her outfit, or what little of it she wore.

She was dressed like a... Balsam bit back the less-than-kind word. She was dressed like a dancer. The risque variety. The silks wrapped around her body concealed little and suggested much, and with her ample assets so lewdly on display, Balsam couldn't imagine how she would be able to dance with them. She did walk with grace, though, quite heedless of the way her massive tits—positively shining in the rosy light shining down upon her—jiggled with every step.

She walked demurely over and around his chair, and he snapped back to facing straight ahead as she came to stand before him. As she circled, he tried very hard not to admire the way her plump ass swung and swayed with every motion. Surely she was walking that way on purpose. Surely she knew.

Oh, gods, but she was breathtaking. Balsam was looking forward all-too-much to her attempted 'seduction', if that was what he was in for. As she pulled up the veil, revealing her striking rosy sunset-colored irises, he vaguely realized he was staring right into them without hesitation or concern.

But surely she couldn't be a threat. Surely this gorgeous goblin girl, with those full, pouty dark lips, that cute pointy nose, and that almost adorable belly dancer outfit, would prove little more than a brief reprieve from boredom.

In fact, he told himself, forcing himself to keep staring into those eyes rather than elsewhere, this could be dangerous in another way. He had to keep from enjoying this too much. Any diplomat entering the Witchkeep always kept a protection to prevent any, ah, intrusions under his trousers—a simple chastity lock that would instantly activate if anyone other than him tried to touch him in an untoward manner—but it didn't protect him from his own... well, mischief.

And as indecorous as the monsters here could be, he also knew it would shame his kingdom and his king if a diplomat sent to speak with the Witch Queen were found guilty of any remotely improper conduct. They might not even intervene on his behalf. It would be a humiliation—and one for which his punishment might be decided here rather than by his homeland, if it was especially egregious.

He reminded himself of this with firm resolve, all while the goblin maid stared up at him, pouted her lips to one side, and fluttered her eyelashes. "Good evening, m'lord," she said, her voice sweet and surprisingly meek. She curtseyed. "What a pleasure it is to meet you this fine evening!"

He smiled slightly, unable to hold it back. A goblin trying to speak formally was like a cat trying to fly after a sparrow. "It's wonderful to meet you, too, Miss...?"

"Mijya." She smiled shyly. "Princess Mijya."

A Princess? So she wasn't just a random guard or serving maid, then. He kept smiling. "Wonderful to Mijya, then."

The Princess blinked, and then her eyes widened with surprise and humor as she understood the word play.

"Pfft!" She covered her mouth quickly with a hand, flushing a bright pink against her pale opal-blue skin. "I—really? That's how you're leadin' here?"

"Well..."

"No, seriously!" she pressed. "I guess that works! I mean, evils below, I bet half the girls here would lose interest immediately if that's the kinda lines you've got! It's genius!"

He couldn't help but laugh. Okay, she was kind of cute. The thought only reminded him, though, of the more subtle danger here. "Princess Mijya—"

"Mijya is fine." Her eyelashes fluttered.

"Mijya, honestly, I think I know why you're here." He sighed. "And I am flattered, but it would be simply—" He hesitated. Mijya was smiling. "What?"

"No, no!" She waved for him to continue. "I didn't say anything!"

He frowned. "Well, I just... " he shifted slightly, unsure as her grin widened. "I just mean to say that I have nothing but the utmost respect for the Witch Queen and her servants, and I would just as soon avoid any..." He swallowed, seeing her grin widening to positively manic proportions, gods, he'd forgotten how large goblin's mouths could be. "... indiscretions."

She giggled. "Well, naturally, m'lord." She gave her hips a shimmy. "Oh, did you think I was going to disagree?"

He hesitated.

Mijya took a step closer, resting her chin on her bare shoulder as she reached forward and... didn't quite tip his chin up. "M'lord," she said sweetly, "Her Majesty, my 'aunt', has bade me attend to you while you wait."

"A-Attend—?" Her finger was still quite close to his chin, and her eyes were very, very bright, almost eager.

"As a performer, silly!" She giggled and hopped backwards, giving her cute butt another little shake and twirl. "We goblins make fine dancers, you know."

"R-Really?" Balsam was taken off-balance now. She seemed fully sincere, but he smelled danger. "Well, I, um..."

"In fact," she continued, her eyes flashing with merriment as she casually, rudely talked over him—though as a diplomat, it was best for him to just shut his mouth and let the Princess speak—"Decorum is very important to us goblins!" Her lashes fluttered. "We would never break with decorum."

"Oh." He flushed. "Well, ah, now I feel a little foolish..."

"That's okay!" She beamed, shaking her head slightly. "It's common t'feel foolish in front of a goblin, y'know, m'lord." She winked. "We're quite clever, and humans, well, bless them..."

"H-Hey!" Balsam kept his voice quiet and neutral, but couldn't contain his indignation—or his little smile at the sheer gall of this goblin.

"Oh, they're good for plenty of things," she said sadly, shrugging her shoulders. "And there's plenty they can do we lowly goblins certainly can't. Plenty they've got I haven't got." Her eyes shot to him. "But nothing that can't be affixed, hm? That's why you're here."

"Yes, I... suppose so." He felt unsure now. The goblin was speaking awfully quickly, and confidently, in spite of her malapropisms, and her voice was very slick and smooth and easy to listen to. A very pretty, musical voice, like chimes. But he kept his guard up. "This... dance is customary, then?"

"Of course, m'lord." Her eyes were heavy-lidded, as if all the innocence contained within those thick, dark lashes weighed too much to hold up. "It's a standard performance. Her Majesty despises keeping our wonderful guests waiting without entertainment, you know."

"I... I see." He straightened slightly in his chair, his worries easing a little. "And it's... it's not, ah..."

"Hypnotic?" She giggled. "Mind-melting?"

He bit his lip.

"Relax, m'lord." She tilted her head cutely to the side, her eyes shining with goodness and light. "I pledge now by the Moon and Stars that I'll not lay a hand on you. You're here under protection, after all." Her eyes darted downwards toward his trousers, and he swallowed, realizing what she was looking at. "Besides, with m'lord's mighty, invincible magics, I doubt there's much I'd be able to do. The likes of me ain't much of a spellster." She winked.

It was true, and he could feel himself relaxing in the armchair as he looked down at her. Aside from a few, more physically focused powers and a certain aptitude for spices, goblin maids didn't have much, um... magic, per se. And even a goblin would be bound by her word if she really was a Princess under the Witch Queen's tutelage.

In theory.

Something ate at him all the same, and he tried to find the words to describe that gnawing feeling in his gut. "But, um..."

"It's just the custom, m'lord," Mijya smiled, and her hips began to swing slightly. "It's just polite."

Her hips swayed so slowly. So... enticingly. Like a swinging pocket watch. Hourglass. Or... or something like that.

"... but, um..." His voice sounded smaller to him, somehow. Groggier. More reluctant to object. Gods, her tits were positively...

"It's only polite, m'lord," Mijya said smoothly, sweetly, as she began to sway her whole body, eyelashes fluttering low indeed. "It's... only... decorous."

"I... yes, but..." Her eyes filled his vision. He felt so unsure. The pink light shone on her so prettily, reflecting in her pretty eyes, and he was having so much trouble convincing the lower end of his mind—the part of his mind in his legs, currently bound and rather displeased about it—that there was any possible danger from one who was so small, so petty, so sweet...

Her voice descended to a sultry purr. "It would be rude, even," and her plump lips curved upwards, "to say no."

Rude to say no. Rude to say no. He nodded slightly, trying to stay easy-going—rude to say no—trying desperately to keep his senses.

Rude to say no. Her ass swung rhythmically, and soft, sensual music was creeping into the air around him, plinking strings and low, cooing woodwind, matching her dance...

"... okay." He nodded uncertainly again, watching her smile widen with the one little word. "Okay. Just... one dance."

"Of course, m'lord," she cooed, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"For... um..." He tried to think of a polite way to say it.

"Politeness's sake?" she suggested innocently.

He nodded dumbly. She'd said it, not him.

"Why, of course, m'lord," she purred, lifting her arms above her head and swaying her whole body to the rhythm. "You're only being polite."

"Uh-huh." He smiled with relief that she understood. His muscles relaxed further as he lay back.

"It's juuust the cuuuustom," Mijya murmured.

"C-Cu—Custom," he panted, squirming. Oh, gods, she was... she was gorgeous. Absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous. So soft and curvy, her breasts positively gargantuan for her stature, and such a pretty twinkle in her eyes as she twirled and gave her plump derriere a sensuous, rhythmic swing from side to side, up and down.

Up and down. His eyes brainlessly followed the motion.

"And I won't even touch you," she cooed, giggling. "No matter what, m'lord." She beamed and placed her hands on her slim shoulders, slowly gliding them down her massive breasts, biting her lip as if merely touching herself in front of him was the most exquisite pleasure imaginable... caressing down her belly as she swayed and writhed, her midriff bare to show off the little tattoo of the ballet slippers that seemed so vaguely familiar to him right now.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I-I mean..." Oh, gods, she was so hot, and it felt so hot in this chamber right now, he could scarcely breathe—at least, not without inhaling her sweet perfume, filling his lungs with the scents of flowers he'd never seen in his life and knew not the names of—

"Not a touch. Not a fingertip," she cooed, putting just such a fingertip to her lips and pouting with an expression of pure, incorruptible purity. Her other hand moved with less pure intentions, running up and down her ass in time with the rhythmic swings of her hips. It was all so, so very difficult to look away from. "Not. A. Lick."

"L-Lick?" he whispered.

She giggled and batted her lashes, eyes shining like the morning's eastern horizon. "Nothing," she said smugly, continuing to sway as his eyes followed her every exquisite motion. "Not a touch on that needy cock of yours, m'lord, I swear."

His eyelids fluttered. Yes. Not a touch. Not a... not anything. He was safe.

He almost regretted it, he thought, relaxing deeper, sinking deeper and deeper into the soft, warm chair as he watched her dance, nakedly admiring her not-quite-naked tits and ass and... everything.

But it was safer this way. His eyelids felt awfully heavy, but he kept his eyes stubbornly open, gazing hungrily at her swaying, enticing, delectable body. Safer this way. Safer.

"Of course," she said, blinking those big eyes and nibbling at the finger on her lips, as if something had just now occurred to her, "you are still gonna cum your silly human brains out."

He nodded sleepily. "Uh-huh..."

She giggled, batting her eyelashes as she wiggled her hips seductively. "Does that sound nice? Cum?" She leaned in slightly. Her scent, her sweet floral scent, flooded his mind with thoughts of... thoughts of sex, of clutching her hot, curvy body, of pounding into her... "Cumming your stupid bull brains out?" Her voice dropped to a husky purr. "You wanna be all cum-dumb for me?"

He blinked and nodded. "Cu... Cuuummm..." His voice was slurred as her tits jiggled and bounced before him.

He blinked.

"W... Whuh?"

She giggled and bounced back, swinging her hips in a rapid motion that drew his eyes like a whirlpool pulled a leaf boat. "That's right, stud," she cooed, beaming as his eyes widened slightly, as her voice melted into a sultry, seductive cadence. "That's right. It's nice to cum, isn't it?"

"Wh... buh..." His thoughts were so sluggish, and he had to struggle through her thick, rosy haze as if the fog was solid. It was so easy to watch her fat tits bounce and jiggle before his eyes. So easy to watch her pert rear swing playfully from side to side, to look into her pretty, pretty eyes...

"I don't have to touch you, silly." She smirked. "You think a silly cum-dumb boobies-brained boy like you needs to be touched to turn into a drooling stud?"

"Mmuh." His lips and tongue felt like lead, like his mouth had been filled with thick, gooey honey that choked all his words in sweet, thick nothingness. "Buh. Y-You..."

"All I have to do," she sang sweetly, eyelashes fluttering as she danced ever-so-close to him, craning her neck over her shoulder to force eye contact as she wiggled her ass, "is let you watch me."

He stared helplessly. What? What was she... she couldn't possibly...

Oh, gods. He was... he swallowed, feeling his cock struggling within its confines.

"That's right," she purred, spinning and running her hands over her belly, swaying, bouncing, inviting his helpless, lusty gaze. "Just stare like the horny boy you are. Horny bull. Drooling titslave."

Her tits bounced and smooshed together. He could scarcely breathe a breath of air that wasn't saturated with her sweet scent. Could scarcely hear his own heart pound, his own breath, over the sound of her sweet, sensual voice and the pulsing music.

She giggled. "Aww." She mimed as if to pat his cheek, but stopped short. "That's right. Nothing to say. Just watch me dance, cutie." Her eyes swirled with sparks like a bonfire. "Watch me make you cum your dumb brains out."

"B-Buh." He shook his head faintly. She couldn't... she couldn't make him cum without touching him. Could she?

She beamed. Apparently, she was quite confident. She swayed slowly, grinding in time with the music. "That's right, silly boy," she hissed. "I'm gonna fill you up with nice, yummy needy thoughts, and a silly, horny, needy, cum-dumb stud like you is gonna just melt~" She swayed her hips to the left. "Into~" She swayed her hips to the right. "My~" She grasped her tits and squished them together, eyes shining with amusement. "Control."

He stared greedily, drooling over the sight of her. She was so confident, but he told himself it was nonsense. It was nonsense. She couldn't. Not without touching him.

Gods, he wanted to cum so badly, though.

She gyrated, giggling as a low whine escaped him. "Aww, see?" she said smugly, eyes settling on his tented trousers. "It's already happening. You're already turning into a stupid brainless stud. There's my nice, obedient bull."

"N-Nuuuh" he gasped, mind and vision and smell and sound totally drowning in Mijya, drowning in her hot body, in the heat flooding the room, flooding everything he knew. Her tits, so soft and pillowy, so smooth, so easy to grasp and squeeze if only he—but he couldn't! He couldn't touch her, couldn't breach decorum. He clung to this.

"You're gonna cuuuum," she teased, bouncing her tits rapidly before letting them fall before his hungry gaze. "Gonna cuuuum those adorable brains out." Her expression turned sly. "Not like you were using them anyway, I bet." She swung her hips in time with the music, eyes shining with predatory lust. "You're gonna cum like a good boy, and I'm gonna watch as your eyes get so very pretty."

Pretty. He whimpered, staring into her pretty eyes.

Oh.

Oh, crap.

If he came... he knew this. The Heart Eyes effect. If he came while under the power of a goblin, she could... she could make him hers. Forever.

Worse, if he came in his pants like a stupid, horny bull, the insult to his king and kingdom would be so terrible they would likely disown him immediately. He'd be abandoned. Left for whoever wanted him.

Left for Mijya to toy with.

His heart raced and eyes widened. His cock throbbed against his trousers. No. She couldn't. It... it was impossible, right?

Mijya clearly didn't think so. She licked her lips, bouncing closer, and he couldn't look away from those hips, from that perfect ass, round and pert and perfect for jumping up to wriggle into a needy bull's lap and grind him into brainless bliss. His heart raced. It would be... would be so easy to just reach down, to scoop her up—

No! He whimpered aloud, helpless. He couldn't do anything. He just had to sit here and watch. It was fine, wasn't it? It had to be impossible. She couldn't do what she was threatening to do. He just had to keep his wits about him.

That is to say, what little of his wits could survive the blazing furnace of his growing lust. He felt hot enough to melt dragonscales. And she stoked the flames higher, swaying her hips slowly from side to side, locking her eyes with his as her hands rose to ever-so-softly caress her perfect breasts, as her delicate fingers toyed with the silks, as if to undo them...

"I'm gonna make you cum," she said sweetly, smugly, knowingly, as if she'd already won, "your adorable human brains out. Until you beg to be mine."

"Y-You..." The words were like trying to scoop up dripping wet cement in his fingers. "C-Can't..."

"And I'll coo," she went on, giggling and twirling, "and act all flirty, like oh my gosh, I dunno, I'm already loooving you as this cute needy bull, maybe I should share you—"

Her eyes locked with his, smoldering heat filling him, and Balsam felt his heart race like lightning to a lone pine.

"I dunno if a cum-dumb bull," she said, her voice light and innocent as she danced for him, "is really marriage material, y'know, m'lord?"

She batted her eyelashes. He whimpered as his cock throbbed. She couldn't. It wasn't. Wasn't possible.

"But your eyes are gonna be sooooo full of hearts," she went on, beaming up at him again, dancing in circles around him so he had to spin his head to keep her in his vision, "and you're gonna be sooooo in love with me, aren't you?"

"N-Nuh—"

"Gonna cum." She leaned in close. "Your." Her eyes blazed with lust. Her lips savored the words like they were the sweetest pleasure she'd ever known. "Heart away to me!~"

She giggled and bounced back as he stared dumbly at her, his eyes dropping almost immediately to her hands as they ran over her tits.

"You're doing so well," she cooed, giggling as he whimpered and tried to shake his head. "Such a good boy. Good bull." Her fingers toyed with the silken top, and her eyes shone like stormclouds. "Aww, look at those big, pretty, helpless eyes of yours. You're just helpless for me, aren't you?"

He panted. He was positively drooling.

She pulled her top down, and his heart raced as her tits bounced free, oh, gods, flawless and indulgent and so gorgeous as, for just one moment, he saw her nipples—

And then she pulled it back up and smirked, her eyes darting down to his lap. She licked her lips and met his gaze again, her expression sly, triumphant. And he realized she'd spotted a tiny spot of precum darkening his trousers.

"And you're already loooosing," she cooed, her hands playing ever-so-close to his imprisoned cock.

Balsam's head swayed and swam and sloshed like he couldn't hold it upright. His brain felt like it was turning to goo. To lovey-dovey melty dribbly putty. His thoughts were melting into his cock and all he could do was whimper.

And her smile widened.

She pulled back, swayed and twirled around him, forcing his gaze upon the sumptuous delights so-nearly within reach. The goblin laughed and danced with a knowing glint in her pretty eyes. "That's right, stud," she purred. "Just watch me dance. No harm in watching me dance, is there?"

"Nn." He squirmed. "Mm. Um. But."

"No harm in watching my tits," she cooed, bouncing them before his eyes, pushing them together and letting them fall. "You're a big," *squeeze* "strong," *smoosh* "man."

He was drooling. His mind begged him to tear his eyes away, begged him for a merciful break in this endless temptation, begged for release.

His cock begged for a different, far more tempting kind of release. He squirmed.

"There's no way," the Princess went on, batting her eyelashes, her voice sugary-sweet, "that the royal diplomat would let some silly goblin girl make him cum his horny bliss-brainless cumdumb thoughts away, is there?" She swung her ass in rhythmic circles.

"Buh." He stared fuzzily. She was agreeing with him now, he realized after a long moment.

"No harm in watching my ass." Around and around. Back and forth. "No harm in watching me."

"... nuh..." He felt himself nodding, head swimming with dreams. Dreams of reaching forward. Of gripping that perfect, flawless, plump ass and... and... he was positively drooling at the thought.

"Isn't that right?" her sugary voice chimed in his ear, and he almost swore her lips grazed his cheek, but then she pulled away, writhing and wiggling, and all those thoughts began to dissolve into molten putty.

"Uh..."

"You're in complete control," she purred. Her tits jiggled. Her ass swayed. The memory of her nipples hung in his mind as his mind melted between those delicate fingers of hers... "Aren't you?"

He stared into her deep, glimmering rosy eyes. His lips fumbled, realizing Mijya wanted a response. What... What was the question?

"Cuh. Cumplete... control..." He nodded dizzily, eyelids lowering.

"You're not getting sleeeeepy," she teased, swaying her hips. Slowly. So slowly. Lullingly.

"Sl... sl..." Words were hard. Hard when he was so horny. So sleepy. So... so in control...

"Sleeeeepy," she purred. Her tits jiggled. Squished together. "Sleepy boy. Sleepy. Sooooo sleepy."

"Sl'p..."

"Not even a little sleepy," she continued, almost singsong, giggling as his head lolled. "Sleeeepy? No, no. Not sleepy." Her eyes seemed to swirl. "Even though it feels so goooood to be sleeeepy."

"Guh. Good." He could manage 'good'. 'Good' was an easy word. He nodded dreamily.

For some reason, this made her giggle again. "That's right," she said sweetly. "And a good, sleepy boy..." She danced closer, her mesmerizing voice dropping to a quiet purr, as her fingers played with the straps of what little cloth covered her luscious, pert ass. "... would never be tempted to touch himself. Or me."

He watched the silks slip down. His thoughts spun and swirled. The music seemed to pulse around him, a low, steady rhythm, a beat, a beat so familiar he ached with every cell in his melting brain to reach between his legs and pump to the rhythm...

"Because he's a good boy," she said smugly. "A good, sleepy boy."

"Sleepy..."

She beamed. "That's right!" The silks dropped lower. Her scent flooded his sluggish senses, and his heart started to race. "And a good, sleepy boy doesn't need me to touch him." Her voice lowered. "To fuck him."

"F-Fuck..." He blinked blearily, struggling at that new word. That word he longed to hear more of. The way her plump lips seemed to savor it, like an exotic delicacy, a rare, sweet, juicy fruit...

"To get up in his lap," she husked, swaying sensuously with the rhythm as the silks fell away, "and ride that boy's brains out until he's a heart-eyed. Lovey. Dovey. Cum. Dumb. Bull."

He whimpered, bucking instinctively, her every word lavishing attention on him like a long, agile tongue. Her lips drew the words out longer, longer.

"Aw." She giggled, continuing the slow, endless sway as her top finally fell away, fluttering to the ground forgotten. "But a good, sleepy boy doesn't neeeed any of that, does he?"

"Nuh. Need." He drooled, panted, stared longingly at the gorgeous goblin girl, bucking mindlessly up in the air. "Cum-dumb."

"I can already see the hearts starting to appear," she said sweetly, twirling and locking eyes with him. "Wow, and so many of them, too!"

He couldn't breathe. He just whined like a dog in heat, bucking like the horny cum-dumb bull he was. She... she couldn't, a tiny lucid part of him pleaded. It was impossible.

"In fact," she purred, eyes glowing, "I think he's gonna cum for me the second I ask him to!"

He whimpered and shook his head slightly, even as he kept bucking. No. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible.

Even though a part of him longed for it. Thirsted for it. Melted and drooled and rolled over and nodded like a good boy for Mijya at the miniscule possibility it was true.

"Awww." She tutted, shaking her head slightly. "That's right! Because he's just a silly, dumb boytoy." She put a finger to her lips, mocking a curious expression. "Goodness... what ever will his kingdom think?"

"Nn." He panted. His mind was mush. Her tits filled his vision. Her voice filled his mind. Mijya filled his heart with thick, heavy, sticky rose-colored honey. He bucked and moaned, a helpless, hopeless, fuck-dumb lovey-dovey bull...

"I don't expect they'll have much use for a horny loveslave," she said sadly, shaking her head and pouting as if this was a terrible tragedy. "He was supposed to be a clever diplomat, but goodness, cumming his brains out for a pretty girl?" She giggled.

He was ablaze, blushing like a sun, panting for a breath that wasn't full of her scent. But as the belly dancer twirled around him, circling him again and again, as if wrapping him in layer after layer of her perfume, her bewitching pheromones settling upon him, he was drowning in it. Drowning in her.

"They'll have no more use for him," she said softly, "and the Witch Queen has plenty of spies already..."

"G-Guh?"

"Why..." Her eyes lit up. "I suppose he'd be easy pickings for any pretty girl who wanted him!" She beamed up at him. "Doesn't that sound wonderful?" she cooed.

He squirmed helplessly beneath her irresistible gaze. Her voice, like sweet syrup, poured onto him, lathered him until he was drinking it in eagerly, hanging on every word, and he found himself giving...

... the tiny nod to damn himself.

"It does?" she asked innocently, putting a finger to her lips. She paused in her dancing. The music stopped. The gorgeous goblin Princess stared up at him, eyes shining with delight, lush green lips curving up ever-so-slightly in triumph. "That sounds nice? Being a pretty girl's boytoy?" She winked. "A pretty goblin princess's breeding bull?"

He squirmed. But there was no escape. She pressed closer, eyes glowing like lamp posts in an endless murky mire. "Maybe," she suggested, cocking her head adorably to the side, "a pretty goblin princess's cum-dumb, lovey-dovey, pampered, obedient... husband?"

He stared dumbly at her. For some reason, everything around her seemed to be filled with... pretty... pretty pink...

She smirked and gave a little sway of her hips.

He followed the motion senselessly with his heart-filled eyes.

And her smile widened.

And Princess Mijya commanded—with a voice of pure sugar, her thick eyelashes fluttering, her eyes shining with triumph—"Cum for me, sleepy boy."

Balsam trembled, whimpered, and came.

Pure exquisite pleasure rolled into him like a windswept thunderstorm, and he rocked and squirmed and cried out in wonderful bliss. His eyes locked on hers as he felt the orgasm claim his body, mind and soul—and as the goblin smirked and rocked her hips slowly back and forth, grinding, miming the most tantalizing of lapdances, he felt the Princess claim his heart as well.

"That's right," Princess Mijya sang, giggling as he squirmed and bucked like a brainless bull, "that's right, good boys cum when pretty girls tell them to! Cum their brains out. Cum themselves stupid and sleepy and obedient." She danced closer, beaming with ultimate smug triumph shining in her eyes and her lovely, heart-melting smile. "Good boys," she added sultrily, "cum when their pretty wives call."

His world swelled with pink and his vision swam with hearts. He knew he was cumming in his pants, cumming just from watching her dance, listening to her sweet voice, but he didn't care. He was cumming his brains out. He felt so... so stupid. The world hung so heavy at his eyelids, and his head lolled back as he moaned and jerked as if bound to the chair.

And he was bound. Basically. Somewhere in his vanishing mind, he knew, in a whimpering, increasingly meek understanding, that he had to stay still. Perfectly still. If only he could avoid stroking himself... if only he could resist that wonderful impulse... she couldn't touch him. And he couldn't commit any truly disgraceful indiscretion. She'd made a mistake in promising that.

He was going to be okay. He just. Had. To Stay. Still.

"Good boys," she purred in his ear, causing him to buck once more, "cum. Themselves..." She grasped the arms of his chair. He stared dumbly, mindlessly, drowning in an afterglow that felt like endless gallons of syrup were pouring over him—unable to comprehend, unable to think, unable to do anything but pant and drool as her fat tits jiggled right before his greedy, sleepy eyes, "Into. Love. Dumb. Lovey. Dovey..."

And, with a smirk, the hot little goblin bounced right into his lap.

His eyes widened. Her plump ass ground against his still-clad cock, and instantly he was hard again. She wriggled and batted her eyelashes, giggling at his shocked, despairing, hopelessly pliant expression.

"Husbands," she said sweetly, reaching back, almost as if to pat his cheek.

But instead, she grasped his collar—never touching bare skin—and pushed him down against the back of the chair.

"Isn't that right?" she cooed, squirming with irresistible skill against him

He stared helplessly into her shining eyes, bathing in her smug radiance. He tried to speak, but pure intoxicating bliss was coursing through every ounce of his being.

And so his eyes just dipped down to her gorgeous, perfect, massive, soft tits. He stared helplessly, longingly. Like a cum-dumb boytoy would.

Like an obedient, brainless, horny bull would.

Like an obedient, brainwashed, lovey-dovey titsdumb husband should.

And apparently this was all the answer she needed.

And, beaming in triumph, the goblin began to bounce in his lap.

"Now, then..." she said sweetly, as his eyes widened further and he started to pant and moan, whimpering, begging beyond words, "... let's get started, shall we?"

Never laying a finger on his bare skin, the goblin maid reached over and took the chalice from the platter and raised it towards his quivering lips. Her expression smoldered with lust as the red wine sloshed in the cup with her every bounce, as she cooed every last word like honey into his open, receptive ears...

"I'd hate to keep a guest waiting."