About this book:

The Elven Princess captures the enemy General, to have her way with him. But he turns the tables on her and makes her his captive…

Excerpt:

The prisoner groaned in pain, reminding Laya that he had been wounded in the battle. Though he was her enemy and now her slave, she could not bring herself to deliberately let him suffer.

“I will tend to your wounds,” she said to him. He refused to look at her. The tension in his glorious body was palpable. He hated her, but what else had she expected?

Akraz’s stone bed rested on one side of the massive tree, while on the other, out of his sight, Laya kept her sleeping mat and personal effects. She circled the tree, to rummage through her rucksacks for the jars of medicinal salves the elves used to heal. She returned with these to Akraz.

Before she began, she ascertained that he was securely bound to the rock slab. She did not want to be taken by surprise again, as she had been when he’d awakened so much sooner than she expected.

Akraz turned to watch her again. Something disturbing lurked in his gaze, as if he saw her as naked as she saw him. It unsettled her. It’s just a symptom of the fear of males that you brought him here to help overcome, she told herself.

“What is that?” he asked, eying the jars. “Poison? Acid? Scorpions, perhaps.”

“Don’t be absurd,” said Laya. “What would I want with scorpions? Nasty little things. I told you, it’s a salve for your wounds. It will reduce the time it takes your wounds to heal from weeks to mere hours. The magic of my people is in such lotions.”

“Why bother to heal me, when you only intend to torture me afterward?” he asked. From his casual tone, one would have thought he had only a passing curiosity in the matter.

“I have no intention of torturing you,” Laya said. She scooped out a dollop of cold cream onto her fingers and began to sooth it into the puncture wounds where the arrows had bruised him through his armor. The magic arrow that she hit him with had left no physical mark, as that was part of its enchantment.

“Ach,” he gasped in response to the cream.

“Does it sting?” Laya asked. Elven cures were not supposed to sting, but she did not know what effect they might have on a goblin.

“It…feels strange,” he said. “Unlike anything.”

Laya didn’t know what to say to that. She continued with her ministrations. He squirmed beneath her fingers. When she reached down to stroke a bruise along his inner thigh, his already impressive cock began to swell. She paused. In an effort to avoid staring at the fascinating organ, she inadvertently met his gaze. His inexcusably handsome face was flushed, with what emotion she could not tell.

“You said I was to be your pet, your toy,” he said in a low, rough voice. “Did you not mean that you wished to force information from me, or did you only want to degrade me for the amusement of your elf friends? The great goblin general brought to his knees and made to beg and grovel?”

Her heart hammered in her chest. Was she as terrible as all that? Was she as horrid as any goblin had ever been to a helpless captive?

Yes, she reminded herself. She must be. She must treat him exactly as he would have treated her had their positions been reversed. She must mete out to him exactly the sort of sexual humiliation which he had forced upon all the captive women he had taken after his every successful raid.

“Perhaps you will find it degrading,” she said, forcing herself to speak callously. “But it is no different than what you have done to hundreds of helpless women. Perhaps you will not enjoy it so much when you are in the position of the captive.”

Steeling her determination, Laya reached out and took his cock in her hand.

He drew in a sharp breath. His member instantly came alive in her hand, throbbing and growing in her palm. Tentatively, she began to stroke up and down, which elicited a further hardening and reddening of the excited cock. Akraz groaned. He began to strain against his chains, rattling the whole bed with his effort.

Frightened by her own audacity, Laya released the cock. It bobbed after her, as if hungry for her to renew her touch.

Somehow he had wrenched the twines enough to lift himself up onto his elbows. “Is that what you meant? You mean to use me for sex?”

He sounded incredulous. For some ridiculous reason, his disbelief affronted Laya. Did she not seem dominating enough, or sensuous enough to him to be the kind of woman who could force a man to be her sexual plaything?

“I do,” she said, trying not to sound rebellious or uncertain. “You have no choice in the matter.”

His eyes narrowed. “Will I have to service just you, or will others, perhaps some of the elf lords, see fit to use me as they wish as well?”

“Just me.” Laya was scandalized by his suggestion at first. Then she tried to imagine gentle Lathaniel trying to use the magnificent hunk of a goblin as a sex toy, and the absurd impossibility of it made her smile. “Unless,” she concluded loftily, just to keep the goblin in his place, “You displease me. In that case, I might share you with my minions as a punishment.”

Akraz’s lips tightened. He took her threat much more seriously than she had issued it, which made Laya recall that among goblins, such a threat would not have been a joke, but an all too real possibility. He judged elves by the same vile standards.

However, if he felt any fear, he did not show it. Instead, he ran his tongue salaciously around the edge of his mouth and leered at her.

“If that is all you want of me, there is no need to tie me up, Mistress.”

“Laya.”

“Laya.” He laved his tongue around her name as though it were a luscious fruit in his mouth. “I will gladly pleasure you according to your every whim, without chains or whips.” His smile grew ironic. “Unless, of course, whips and chains are your tastes.”