She could feel him getting close. His breathing growing ragged on her breasts, his ears flopping as he frantically pounded her.
"Oooh. Ooooh! Ooooooh!" Graar cried out, quivering as he reached his peak, his cock twitching as he spurted his oily load into her. Defiling her. Seeding her.
"Yessssss!" Ava cried, her voice echoing among the empty crates as she crushed the goblin’s head between her heaving tits.
She sagged under him, panting hotly, feeling his cum ooze from her pussy and drip down the curve of her ass.
Graar collapsed atop the cushions of the elf’s breasts, wheezing with the exertion of his orgasm.
Ava giggled breathlessly and petted his head fondly. "Mmm. Graar, that was... wow! You really got your fuck buck’s worth."
"Fuck wha? Oh!" the goblin gasped, blinking rapidly. "Yes. Fuck buck. Yes, you... you pay good for that!"
"And um, about that house..."
"Right, yes. Witch house."
"Witch house? Dear gods!" Ava gasped. "You mean not only was Miss Primwood in a three-way relationship, but it was a bisexual one! Oh Graar!" Ava cried, squeezing the goblin between her breasts with excitement. "This’ll get to the front page for sure!"
Graar wheezed, but made no complaints as he was enveloped in creamy elf tits. "Uh, me not know about that. But house called Witch House by people living near. They say weird stuff happen inside. Magics."
"Goddess! A magic bisexual affair between a witch, an orc, and the noble lady who vanished? This just keeps getting better! Where is it, Graar, you wonderful little monster? Where!"
The house was exactly as Akhil had described it, but Ava never would have found it without Graar’s directions.
For one, it was deep in the red-light district, a space that straddled the slums and merchant areas seamlessly.
Among the brothels and bordellos whose vibrant curtains and burning red lamps called to sailors, sluts, and those seeking to slake their lusts, the Witch House squatted in the shadows at the end of a side street, dark and furtive, its gloomy windows painted black, its doors shut tight against the world.
No lamps burned down that street, though one stood, extinguished, just outside.
A few balconies crouched under the windows, railing filigree twisted.
The mists rose from the docks, licking at the streets and deepening a gloom, the riotous sound of music and laughter from the whorehouses and taverns but a few blocks away seeming shrill and lost here.
There was nobody about in this part of the city. Not even a constable, should danger arise. Why should there be? No woman or man with a bit of common sense would be walking these streets in the dead of night.
Even the drunks kicked from the brothels didn’t come this way.
But Ava didn’t have time for common sense. She was a reporter.
No matter the hour, she needed to get into that house to find out why Lady Primrose had been visiting such a dismal location.
The front entrance with its black door and spike-topped gate was as welcoming as a feasting gargoyle perched on the temple to the goddess of murder.
Ava carefully pulled open the gate, wincing as the squeak of the hinges echoed up the empty street.
She held her breath, but no lantern lit in the house.
She stepped through and onto the cobbled path. She avoided the front door and moved across its small and desolate grounds to the side.
There she found a servant’s entrance.
Pressing her ear to the door she listened, but when she heard nothing, she tested the knob with her hand.
The door opened without a squeak and Ava stole inside.
She slipped off her shoes and crept on bare feet so she would not make a sound.
Her eyes were more capable than any human’s, and easily penetrated the deep shadows of what seemed to be a neatly kept and orderly kitchen.
Nothing out of the ordinary there, so she advanced deeper through a hall.
The building seemed very old and the floorboards creaked beneath her feet.
A smell of strange incense or perfume lingered in the air.
Ava’s heart pounded in her chest. She waited. Heard nothing but the distant ticking of a clock.
She continued deeper into the house. She could make out a grand staircase up ahead.
"What am I looking for?" she whispered. "The words of one orc accused of murder. A house with a creepy reputation. This could be something perfectly innocent. This could be—"
She froze as she saw an enormous monster staring at her from the end of the quiet hallway.
She almost screamed. Nearly ran. Its face was hideous, jaws big enough to swallow her whole, eyes gleaming in the dark.
A dragon!
But it wasn’t moving. Its head was mounted on a wall like some grisly sentinel. Forever staring with glass eyes at visitors to the witch house.
Ava’s shoulders sagged with relief. She let out the breath she had been holding and grinned at nearly having her bones scared out of her body.
She shook her head and took a step towards the staircase.
A door opened beside her. She had not noticed it before.
From a small, lighted bedroom a man shuffled out into the hallway holding a single candle and stopped.
He was dressed in a threadbare servant’s uniform and his gray hair was neatly parted and oiled.
He turned towards Ava and she saw that his eyes were almost completely white.
"Missus? Is that you?" the blind man croaked softly.
Ava held her breath and after a moment the man decided he was alone and shuffled past her on his way to the kitchen.
It wasn’t until she heard water flowing and the man messing about with a kettle before she dared move again.
She made it to the base of the staircase and began to climb.
She was a few steps short of the landing when a woman stepped out of the dark and to the edge of the stairs.
Human, with thick, flowing dark hair that fell about her bare shoulders and shrewd eyes beneath her furrowed brow.
She looked to be middle aged, though judging such things was always a bit tricky for Ava. She would have believed forty summers or perhaps even fifty.
But time had not worn this woman down. Oh, no, she seemed powerful and more than ample, with a body that filled her fur-trimmed robe and the swell of immense breasts that held the weight of a large golden amulet of a spider with an hourglass on its abdomen.
"My, my, I had no idea to expect a visitor tonight," the woman said, her sultry voice sending a thrill through Ava’s body. "What are you doing on my staircase at this hour, elf?"
Ava’s mind was jolted back to reality scrambling to catch up. "Um, I was... er, lost, and, um, I was hoping someone could help me," she said.
"Lost?" the woman said with an arched brow. "In my home? In the dead of night? Coming up my staircase?"
Ava’s cheeks burned. "Um... Yes?"
The woman tilted her head slowly. She reached up, fondling the gold amulet she wore. Etchings shone despite the dark, forming strange symbols around the hourglass shape. "Why not tell me why you’re really here?"
The woman’s voice thrummed, and Ava jolted to attention like someone had pricked her ass with a lightning wand. "I... I’m investigating Lady Primwood’s disappearance," Ava said.
Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Had she really just said that?
The woman smiled and Ava’s face flushed with embarrassment.
"Are you working with the Silver Griffons?" asked the woman, still fondling her necklace.
Ava blinked as that same thrum shot through her, though not as strong. In fact, it felt kinda... nice. Soothing almost.
Ava smiled dimly, her head feeling strangely light. "N-no," she said. "I am Ava Copperman with the Morning Wood."
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