Aryn had lost track of how long he’d been there. The elven healer was resting at a nearby town, tending to a sick farmer on the outskirts in return for being allowed to sleep in their barn. He’d expected a quiet night with little problems as was the norm… but he’d been woken abruptly in the middle of the night by a thick green cock sliding into him. There was already one in his throat that muffled his pained scream and the goblins made quick use of him, taking advantage of his vulnerable state to lash his arms behind his back and tie his ankles to his thighs. Aryn was rather petite, slender save for his plush ass and thighs, so it had been easy for them to carry him back to their hideout once they’d finished with him.   Back at the hideout, they’d wasted no time in passing him around among the rest of the goblins, in cumming on his copper skin, in his silky dark hair. His large blue eyes remained covered with a cloth- he reasoned it was because they liked the way he reacted when he couldn’t see. Once they’d all had their turn, they poured a bucket of cold water over him to clean him (on the outside at least) and then chained him to the wall, his toes just barely touching the ground. Every so often one would come and use him as they liked. This repeated day in and day out until they all began to blur together. Eventually he stopped counting them, his hope that someone would come save him dwindling with each passing day.

One day, though… there are screams. Goblin screams. The smell of blood wafts deeper into the cave hideout, barely stirring the almost unresponsive elf. Has someone come that will save him? Or is he about to fall into even worse hands?