Women’s Pleasure Dungeon – Chapter 86
The room they rented was small. Perhaps, it would have been better to purchase two rooms, but after spending so much on this dungeon in the first place, they wanted to be a bit conservative in the future. Who knew how many more things would cost money moving forward? At the very least, they needed to buy the map for the next five floors.
However, even if it was bigger, this room was still built hastily by goblins and lacked any of the artistic or comfort of a craftsman. The walls were made of rough-hewn planks that had been fitted together with more enthusiasm than skill, leaving gaps where the cold air seeped through. The floor was covered in a thin layer of straw that crunched under their boots, and the only furniture was a single lumpy mattress stuffed into one corner and a rickety wooden table with three legs and a stack of books propping up the fourth.
“This is… cozy,” Willow offered, her voice lacking any real conviction.
“It’s a dump,” Hazel said flatly. She kicked at the straw on the floor, sending a small cloud of dust into the air.
“It was built by goblins. What did we expect?” Ivy asked, “At least it’s better than sleeping outside, or the floor of a cold dungeon.”
The room smelled of wood shavings and something earthy, like turned soil. A single lantern hung from a hook on the ceiling, casting flickering shadows across the rough walls. There was no window, no fireplace, no amenities of any kind. Just four walls, a broken table, and a mattress that looked like it had been stuffed with rocks. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to better furnish the inn, but getting such supplies brought out here would take time. Brail only promised to send a caravan once a month to exchange goods, and they had yet to arrive.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not tired,” Willow announced, breaking the silence that had settled over the group. She tugged at the collar of her tunic, still inside out from their hasty redressing earlier. “I think I’m going to check out that bathhouse. I need to wash off… everything.”
“Blaze said they follow a standard day and night cycle. If I go to the bathhouse, the shops will be closed by the time I get out,” Ivy sighed, “That boutique Blaze mentioned sounded interesting. Perfumes and lotions? I’d like to see what a dungeon could produce.”
“Nothing good.” Willow made a face, but Ivy only shrugged.
Briar nodded. “I’m going to see if I can get some information about the lower levels. The map only covers the first five floors. If we’re going to continue, we need to know what’s ahead. Maybe we won’t need to buy the map at all!”
Her expression was hopeful, but based on their prior experiences, it was unlikely they would get out of buying a map. This dungeon seemed determined to extract as much wealth as possible. Well, they couldn’t really complain. Just the magic armor they had acquired so far already made up for the cost of their entire journey. If they really managed to complete the set, they’d be able to make triple back. This was the only reason they weren’t more upset.
The three women nodded to each other and then left the room. Hazel watched them go and then let out a sigh. They had actually forgotten she was there. When they were traveling through the dungeon, they would always immediately remember her, but when it came to personal life, everyone went their separate ways.
“Is my presence really so small?” Hazel asked.
She stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door, her jaw clenched tight. The silence of the room pressed in on her, broken only by the distant sounds of the village outside. She could hear goblins chattering, the clang of metal from the blacksmith, and the faint sound of laughter from somewhere nearby.
“Always leaving me behind,” she muttered, kicking at the straw on the floor. “Always pushing me to the back.”
She dropped onto the lumpy mattress, wincing as a suspicious lump dug into her thigh.
She lay there for a little bit, but she clearly was discontent. Muffled sounds of the village outside bled through the paper-thin walls. There was the clang of the blacksmith, the chatter of goblins, and the distant laugh of one of the residents. She wasn’t really tired anyway. Even though they had been spending three days traveling down these floors with only quick four-hour rests, the journey had not been very taxing. In fact, had it not been so embarrassing, one might even call it relaxing.
“If no one else is going to stay, why do I have to stay?” she muttered to herself.
She stood up abruptly, the mattress creaking beneath her as she rose. She stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind her. The corridor was narrow and dimly lit, the same rough-hewn planks making up the walls and floor. They were probably the only people staying at the inn, so other than the sounds leaking from outside, the inside felt barren. That made her feel slightly lonely. She headed down the stairway to the lobby, following a distant sound of rowdy voices.
It was only when she reached the lobby that she realized there was a door heading to an adjacent building, and a sign on the door labeled it as a tavern. The strange woman they encountered earlier was already gone, and the lobby itself was empty, so she headed through the door and down a short hallway before entering the tavern next door.
The room was large and low-ceilinged, filled with wooden tables and benches that looked like they had been cobbled together from scrap wood. A bar ran along one wall, behind which stood a goblin bartender with a stained apron and a vacant expression. The place was packed with goblins and kobolds, their voices rising in a cacophony of guttural chatter and raucous laughter. The air was thick with the smell of stale ale, roasted meat, and the musky scent of too many bodies crammed into too small a space.
Hazel made her way to the bar, weaving between tables occupied by goblins who barely acknowledged her presence. She found an empty stool and sat down, her eyes scanning the room. That was when she noticed that while the bartender was a goblin, the server appeared to be a human woman. She was carrying a tray of drinks and placing them on a table filled with kobolds. She had messy blonde hair put up in a bun and pouty red lips. It was clear she was wearing makeup in a dungeon! Besides that, she wore the typical plain dress Hazel had seen the other women in.
The goblins said something to her, and her face turned red, causing them to break into laughter. One of them reached out for the waitress, but she managed to dodge his hand just before he grabbed her boob. Another gestured to his lap, and when she looked down, she rolled her eyes, causing them to break into laughter again.
“You guys, when will you ever grow up. Are you proud of that size? I’ve seen much bigger. Who am I kidding? Of all the things your father passed on to you all, it had to be that. They were much easier to handle when you were all children, but even though you’re four feet tall, why do you all have six inches?” She was speaking to them in a lecturing tone, but they only continued to mess around.
Realizing she wasn’t getting through, she huffed and then walked away. Hazel caught her eye and waved her over. The woman’s exasperated expression was replaced with a friendly smile, and she lifted her tray once again. It was only after she lifted the tray that Hazel noticed her protruding belly. Hazel couldn’t help but jump.
“Is that… a goblin baby?” She spoke while staring at her stomach before realizing she was being rude. “Ah, sorry!”
The waitress laughed, a bright, genuine sound that cut through the noise of the tavern. “Not at all. It’s not a goblin baby.”
Hazel let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Oh, that’s a relief. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with… I just…”
“I wish it were a goblin. They only take two months to pop out.” The waitress laughed again. “It’s a cyclops baby, actually. They have a much longer gestation period.”
“A-a what?”
Before the waitress could respond, a goblin ran past and smacked her ass with a resounding crack. The waitress jumped, letting out a surprised yelp, and the nearby goblins erupted into chittering laughter as he ran back to their table. Hazel bristled, her hand instinctively moving toward the dagger at her hip.
“Do you want me to teach them a lesson? Hazel asked.
“What?” The girl blinked, and then, seeing Hazel’s knife, she shook her head. “Oh, don’t worry about it; they’re innocent.”
“Innocent? Doesn’t that make you mad?” Hazel demanded
“Not at all. This is how goblins show affection. I’d be disappointed if they didn’t touch me. It would mean I was no longer appealing to them.” She ran a hand over her belly, a fond smile on her face. “That they still get excited even though I’m so swollen and fat makes me intensely happy.”
Hazel stared at her, struggling to process what she was hearing. The woman seemed genuinely pleased by the goblins’ crude attention, as if their groping and leering were compliments rather than insults.
“Are you… Were you in Unbroken Bond?” Hazel asked, remembering the party Blaze had mentioned.
The waitress shook her head. “I used to be in Passion’s Summit. I was the leader, actually. The name is Love. I disbanded the group when I decided to come back here.”
“Come back?” Hazel frowned. “You’ve been here before?”
Love opened her mouth to respond, but a goblin at a nearby table called out to her in his guttural tongue.
She rolled her eyes and shouted back, her voice sharp and commanding. “Hold your dick! I’ll get your drink in a minute!”
The goblins around the table howled with laughter, slapping their knees and clapping each other on the back. Hazel watched the exchange in bewilderment.
“You understood him?” she asked. “I can’t make heads or tails of what they’re saying.”
Love shrugged. “They understand and speak the common tongue just fine. They just can’t pronounce it easily, so they developed their own dialect. Naturally, if you’re around them long enough, you can understand what they are saying.”
At that moment, a drunk goblin stood up from his table, swaying slightly on his feet. He smashed his fists together and shouted something in the goblin dialect, his yellow eyes gleaming with mischief. The tavern erupted into even louder laughter, several goblins doubling over and pounding the tables.
“What did he say?” Hazel asked, looking between Love and the goblin.
Love’s cheeks flushed a deep red. “He asked… since we’re talking so much, we might as well start fucking and give them a show.”
Hazel stiffened in her seat. She shot the goblin a glare, her hand tightening around her tankard. She wasn’t used to being spoken to like that. She, like most heroines, had grown up privileged. She wasn’t used to vulgarity. The goblins only laughed harder, their yellow eyes gleaming with amusement at her reaction.
“Do you really like living with such brutes?” Hazel asked, her voice tight with indignation.
Love laughed again, but this time there was a bitter edge to it. “The goblins are definitely something to get used to. But the real reason I’m here…” She paused, her expression growing distant. “I’m in love with the dungeon.”
Hazel blinked, certain she had misheard. “You love the dungeon?”
She supposed she kind of understood. One could fall in love with a place. There was the spa on the first floor, the beach on the second floor, the ice skating rink on the third floor, and even the fourth floor had that stimulating crawl. Her cheeks couldn’t help but turn pink thinking about it. She supposed someone could come to love this place. Yet, Love’s next line confused her completely.
“He keeps accepting new bitches, but even though I have his child, he’s left me on the fifth floor.” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “He even took away my pregnancy privilege and made me work to stay here. Can you believe that? But… I’ll make him love me one day! Besides, no other cock can satisfy me after I’ve tasted such a beast.”
Hazel stared at her, a chill running down her spine. The woman was unhinged; there was no other word for it.
“I… see,” Hazel said carefully. “That’s… interesting.”
Love seemed not to notice her discomfort. “If I don’t bring the goblins more drink soon, they might start causing trouble. I’ll speak with you later.”
She excused herself with a wave, moving toward the goblins who were calling for more drinks. As she walked away, lecturing them about their behavior, a goblin slipped behind her. He ducked under her skirt and blew a loud, wet raspberry against her skin.
Love shrieked, spinning around and swatting at the air. The goblins roared with laughter, their voices rising in a cacophony of delight. Love’s face was bright red as she stormed off toward the kitchen, her hands pressed against her skirt.
Hazel watched her go, then turned back to her drink. The mead was strong, and she could already feel its warmth spreading through her limbs, loosening the tight knot of tension in her chest. She took another long pull, letting the liquid fire settle in her stomach.
She listened to the goblins around her, trying to pick out individual words from their chatter. Their dialect was strange, a mishmash of common tongue words and guttural sounds that seemed to defy easy translation. Coming to a decision, Hazel grabbed her tankard and made her way to a table where three goblins sat drinking. They were a smaller group and had been less drunk than some of the others, so that’s who she chose. They looked up as she approached, their yellow eyes curious.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked, sliding onto the bench before they could respond.
The goblins exchanged glances, then shrugged in unison
“I want to understand you guys better.” Taking their shrug as confirmation, she sat down across from the three. “I used to study the common tongue and dialects. If Love can understand you guys, then I should too.”
One of the goblins leaned forward. “Boss… say… leave guests alone.”
“Hmm?” She blinked. “Ah, well, you’re not bothering me if I come to you, right? Don’t worry, I’ll take responsibility. Here, let me buy you all a round. Just chat like normal; I’ll pick it up.”
She waved Love back and ordered a round for all of them. This seemed to be enough to win the goblins over, and they all cheered and became less stiff. They continued to talk, but Hazel still couldn’t understand anything. She also kept drinking and found that this didn’t help her understand them. Yet, that didn’t stop her from talking in return.
“It’s just…” she spoke after finishing her third glass. “I’m tired of being overlooked. Of being pushed to the back.”
The goblins tilted their heads, listening with what seemed like genuine interest. Encouraged, Hazel continued.
“I’m educated in all manners of adventuring,” she said, her words slightly slurred. “I’m more educated than any of them. Fencing, knifework, sleight of hand, acrobatics… I can do far more than just look for traps and give warnings of nearby monsters. But does Briar care? No. She just wants me to scout ahead and stay out of the way. When it’s a fight with Willow… just stay in the back and let me and Ivy handle it.”
One of the goblins patted her arm sympathetically. Another refilled her tankard from a pitcher on the table. Hazel drank deeply, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her chest.
“They’re mocking me.” Her voice grew bitter as her eyes grew unfocused. “Willow… that fucking princess, always with those big things in my face. They’re just fat bags anyway; is that really what is attractive? Am I really ugly?”
The goblins made sounds of protest, shaking their heads vigorously. One of them reached out and patted her arm again, his touch surprisingly gentle.
“You know… I met a male once.” She giggled while taking another sip. “No, really. I was fifteen, and my parents managed to get me a brief fifteen minutes with a man. You know what happened? He couldn’t get hard. He said my chest looked like a boy’s. I cried so hard that my parents never tried to set me up for impregnation again. It wasn’t in the cards.”
The goblins were now on either side of Hazel, and one was standing behind her, rubbing her neck. She closed her eyes for a second and let out a moan.
“That feels good. Thanks.” She downed the last of her glass, but it was filled again. “So, I became a heroine. Yet, all of the other girls are more beautiful. They have curvy bodies. Even Briar, with her muscles, had a more feminine body than mine. They don’t even acknowledge me. I’m ugly… and… alone.”
A tear began to run down her cheeks. The goblins all hugged her. They were sweet. Why did she ever think they were disgusting?
“Beautiful.” One goblin said.
“R-wreally?” she slurred, reaching out to pat one of the goblins on the head but missing, her hand landing in his lap. “You know that? You’re really great.”
“What?” Hazel asked, leaning in close. “What did you say?”
The goblin repeated himself, slower this time, and she caught the word “pretty” somewhere in the jumble of sounds. She smiled, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through her chest.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice soft, but that’s when her hand felt something hard. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
The goblin’s grin widened. He reached out and took her hand, his small, calloused fingers wrapping around hers. The touch sent a jolt through her system, a sudden awareness of how close they were, how warm his skin felt against hers. He then wrapped her fingers around the hard thing jutting out of his pants. She should pull away. She should stand up and walk back to the inn and sleep off the alcohol. But she didn’t. Her eyes widened.
“It’s… big!”
The other two goblins moved closer, their bodies pressing against hers on either side. She could feel the heat radiating from them, the rough fabric of their clothing brushing against her arms. One of them placed a hand on her thigh, his touch light and questioning.
Hazel’s breath caught in her throat. She looked down at the hand on her leg, then back up at the goblin. His yellow eyes were dark with desire, his lips parted slightly. He said something in his dialect, his voice low and husky.
She didn’t need a translation. In her drunk state, she let the goblins lead her. Actually, she might not have been able to make it without them guiding her. Her legs were wobbly, and the world was spinning. Yet, soon, she found herself in a room. It wasn’t the one they rented, but a different one. The mattress was still lumpy, and the air smelled of stale ale, but Hazel didn’t care. She was beyond caring about such things.