"I yield, I yield!" Jeb shrieked in feigned submission as he dropped the wooden sword and cowered before the diminutive girl.

Sissy laughed, her flutey giggle dancing in the wind.

"Surrender cur!" She stood triumphantly over him. Her white dress and golden locks bounced as she thrust her toy sword at his throat.

In one swift motion, Jeb kicked her legs out and caught her in his arms. She squealed in delight, and he threw her over one shoulder. He ran around the small yard with her kicking and laughing.

They were supposed to be herding the chickens into the coop, but Jeb could never deny his little sister, she was too small and too bossy. Father had always said they had royal blood, but he didn't believe it until his sister learned to talk. She would speak, and it was done. Since mother passed, Sissy was all that mattered to him and father.

"Teach me to use a real sword, Jeb." She commanded. "I want to slay beasts and kill pirates, like father."

Jeb put her down and knelt eye to eye with her. The sun had begun to set, and the crimson sky reflected off her golden locks. "Yes, your majesty, prepare yourself," he said, "as soon as I get these birds cooped, your training begins."

Jeb's tears broke across his face at the memory. His father had opened the war chest and was strapping armor to his hulking frame, but all Jeb could do was cry.

"Put this on," his father threw a chain shirt at Jeb, and he snapped to attention, looking up at his father.

"I'm sorry, father." He said for the hundredth time.

His father moved faster than he'd ever seen him move. He grabbed Jeb roughly by the face, his hand covering his mouth. "Look at me, son." Jeb looked up, tears running over his father's hand. "You’re a man now, self-pity, guilt, and despair are useless lumps of iron. Smelt them in the furnace of pain, shape them with the hammer of rage until you have forged the biting steel of revenge." He held a short sword out to his son, and Jeb grabbed the handle.

The old farmer removed his hand, and Jeb's jaw tightened. He sat unmoving for a few moments before pulling the chain shirt over his head, then followed his father out of the farmhouse and into the night.

"They won't kill her." His father said as they walked through the dark woods. The old farmer had denied Jeb's request for a torch. He’d said it would blind them and make them easy to see coming, but Jeb didn't understand as he fumbled blindly through the black woods.

"What good would a girl be to goblins if not meat?" He knew the answer to his question before he was done asking it. His face contorted in rage and he screamed, "She's a child!" Anger seeped into his words. "Hasn't even bled yet. They can't just..."

The only response was his father's heavy trudging footsteps.

He kept his eyes on his father's dark silhouette, "So what do we do? Goblins are stupid and lazy. It shouldn't be-"

"They are lazy only when not motivated properly, but they are not all brainless savages. Most goblins are half something else, something smarter. The greenskin that took..." He couldn't say her name, so he swallowed the lump in his throat and continued. "He did so when our backs were turned and somehow took her silently. There was one set of tracks, so he was alone."

"Do you think he lives alone?"

"Never. Even civilized rats need a pack. He was working against his tribe, most likely for himself, or he would have brought more. If we don't return, the guild will send help when they realize we are gone. This goblin was clever, but he isn't smart."

Jeb had a hundred questions but decided to pull his shortsword. Getting a feel for its weight, he slowly swung it in front of him as they walked. His arm tired quickly, and he resheathed the blade. "How do we do this then?" He asked.

"You will stay by the entrance and shout into the cave if any enter after we do. We can't be surprised on our way out. Goblins aren't worth their weight in a sword fight, but they can ambush and trap better than any."

A cold sweat began to soak Jeb's forehead and back. "I don't think we should split up."

"I can't afford to hesitate in the lair, son. They already have an advantage with better vision. I need to kill everything that moves. Worrying about you would likely get us both killed. Any of the beasts that enter after us shouldn’t be too hard to kill."

Jeb suddenly wished he had taken his father's swordsmanship training more seriously. He nodded in acceptance and moved on.

They found the cave entrance by following a convergence of small tracks leading from the river. The smell of cooking meat guided them around a small copse of trees, and a soft orange glow betrayed the mouth of the lair.

"Once inside, keep your back to a wall and stay alert. They rely on their stealth to capture and kill."

Jeb nodded and followed his father into the lair.

The large entry cavern seemed empty, but the shadows were dark at the edges of the cave, and Jeb couldn't help but feel he was being watched. His father grabbed him by the shoulder, and Jeb pulled his eyes from the ominous darkness.

"Shout if you see anything, don't fight unless you have to." Jeb nodded and stood with a straight back, but fear gripped him. He desperately wanted to stay with his father.

The farmer walked into the darkness, his metal mace gleaming in the fading torchlight.

Jeb looked around the cave, he kept his back to the wall as instructed but his eyes darted from one shadow to the next. Sounds of combat echoed from the darkness, squeals of pain and fear were cut short by loud crunching impacts. Jeb smiled, wishing he could watch his father slay the beasts. This continued for some time until a deep roar silenced the commotion.

Jeb felt uneasy, and slowly drew his sword. He took a step toward the tunnel, but movement caught his eye. The shadows of the cavern seemed to shift and morph as a small form darted from one to another. He heard the rattle of bones and the voice of someone unseen. He turned, trying to follow the dark form through the shadows until he felt a presence right behind him.

He turned into a faceful of fine powder blown into his eyes, nose, and mouth. His eyes burned and he choked on his inhale. He tried to charge the small figure but hacked at empty air until stumbling into a solid wall and losing the grip on his sword. He dropped to his hands and knees, groping for his weapon. Drool and tears dripped from his face as he tried to breathe through desperate sobs, he knew he was going to die but couldn’t finish the terrifying thought before the solid impact of a club sent him spinning into oblivion.

He awoke to find his vision blurred but returning. He was naked, on his knees and doubled over a short table. His arms were outstretched wide and tied together with a length of rope running under the table, making it impossible to sit up. His knees were each fastened to the closest table leg, forcing his legs apart. His manhood hung, exposed in the light of a fire somewhere close behind him, warming his thighs and cheeks.

A face stared into his own, only inches away, and he could see small dark forms moving around him. His father's bearded face came into focus, and he was relieved, but the stern eyes of his father were unblinking. His mouth was slightly open, and as Jeb's vision fully cleared, he discovered he was looking at the decapitated head of his father shoved onto a wooden spike in front of the table.

He screamed in despair and rage as the forms of goblins began to take clear shape around him, laughing and taunting in their foul language.

He struggled against the bindings, pulling hard with one hand would only tug against the other, and his legs were held fast. The ropes bit into his wrists but didn't budge.

Then he stopped. His heart skipped a beat in his chest, and his urine left him in terror as he felt the tip of something fleshy and rigid press against his anus. The splashing piss pooled around his knees, and he pleaded helplessly. Jeb looked into his father's lifeless eyes and quickly squeezed his own closed as the goblin forced himself into the fragile flesh of Jeb’s asshole.

His fists balled, and he thrashed in pain and anger as the goblins laughed around him.

The first goblin hurt worse than anything Jeb had ever felt. A dry tearing into his soft membranes not used to such punishment. The second one was at least lubricated from the first, but the goblins spent seed stung the fresh internal wounds. The goblin pounded Jeb's ass as the first goblin's slime dripped down Jeb's ballsack before mixing with the pool of piss below him.

At some point during the fourth or fifth goblin, Jeb's cock began to stiffen as the rythmic pounding pressed something deep inside him, by the seventh invasion of his asshole, he felt sick as something began to rise in him. The sliding, the slapping, the swaying of his balls and hard cock were all he could focus on. That, and the repeated pummeling of something inside him that pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

The disgust he felt in himself was too much to bear. He began to cry; pitiful moans of sorrow slowly turned to moans of pleasure as snot and tears poured down his face.

He was a failure, he had failed his sister and had failed his father, and now he was moaning like a tavern whore while an entire goblin tribe sodomized him.

He didn't know how many had fucked him, but he couldn't hold out any longer; the goblins hammering cock was pressing down into him in the worst and best way. Cum began to pulse from his flailing cock, and he moaned a loud sobbing cry of pleasure and anguish as his body betrayed him.

The goblins roared in laughter, and rough hands took hold at the base of his cock and balls. He felt the cold, sharp steel against the back of his ballsack, and in one swift motion, everything that made him a man was removed.

He opened his eyes in stunned disbelief. He couldn't even scream. He felt the blood gushing from his wound in waves, his eyes locked with the lifeless eyes of his father, and another goblin began fucking him.

The last thing he heard was the mocking laughter of goblins, the last thing he felt was a goblin thrusting deep inside him, the last thing he saw was his father's severed head staring down at him in disappointment, and the last thing he smelled was his own flesh being cooked behind him. Luckily, he bled to death before they could feed him his own genitals.