From Goblin Slave To Giga-Daddy: A Goblin's Guide to Getting a Harem
Chapter 73: A Priestess and A Perverted Goblin! (6)

Chapter 73: A Priestess and A Perverted Goblin! (6)

"Oh nooo... look what you made me do. You’re leaking everywhere. I better clean this up... thoroughly."

And then, the madman actually started licking her—downward.

From boob, to underboob, to ribcage, then past her navel like he was tracing a very naughty treasure map.

Alice panicked.

Hey! H-hey! Stop it! I didn’t ask for this!"

"You didn’t not ask for it either."

"I... You said you’d only drink my milk!"

She grabbed his head, trying to hold him back. Not push him away—just... control the damage. Somewhat.

Rae looked up from below, still grinning like a demon prince.

"I am. But if the milk drips south, is it my fault the bottle’s leaky?"

Alice’s eye twitched.

"You said, you will only drink my milk. Nothing else."

He smiled like a villain caught mid-scheme, not sorry one bit.

"And what exactly do you think I’m doing, hmm?"

"I’m drinking your milk. That spilled down your body. A tragic waste, really. I’m just cleaning up the mess."

Alice’s breath hitched as he gave her breast a final squeeze—a creamy stream trailing down her stomach like a naughty river of betrayal.

She bit her lips hard.

Technically... he wasn’t wrong.

She did say he could drink her milk. And he was drinking her milk.

Just not from the obvious source anymore.

"B-but y-you aren’t drinking it from the source anymore. It’s cheating."

Rae didn’t miss a beat. He let out a chuckle that screamed "I knew you’d say that."

"What was my bet?"

He asked, holding up a finger like he was lecturing a student.

"I help you with that ache in your big, bouncing, overfilled tits. I drink every last drop of your sweet, pent-up milk..."

Then he leaned in closer, his lips brushing her belly.

"Wherever it’s hiding."

Her heart dropped straight into her womb.

’Oh, shit.’

She cursed inside her head as it all came rushing back, the exact words, the smug tone, the damn trap.

She had nodded like a fool, too distracted by his cock and the idea of making him her servant.

He’d been playing the long con from the start.

And she—proud, experienced, supposedly mature Alice—had walked right into it like a cat into a cardboard box.

She didn’t say anything. Just bit her lip harder.

"Cheater."

That’s all she managed. A pouty, breathy whisper of a word. The only weapon left in her crumbling resistance.

He chuckled.

"Well, it’s your job to double-check the terms and conditions."

"Not my fault you signed your tits away without reading the fine print."

"Oh! Look, your milk is spilling down towards your kitty!"

Rae smirked.

"No! It’s not!"

Her voice cracked as she shot a glance downward like someone checking for a spider on their lap.

Sure enough, the latex dress was clinging tight to her hips like a second skin, not letting anything sneak past.

The milk was sliding sideways, not down. That bastard was bluffing.

"See? It’s not."

"Look once more, woman. It’s clearly dripping inside."

That grin.

That evil, smug, devil-may-care grin.

He looked like he was about to narrate a magic trick.

One finger curled around the rim of her dress.

Before she could yell, slap, or throw hands, he pulled it back just enough for gravity to do its cursed job.

A second of silence.

Then—

"Ahhh! You cheat!"

"What cheat? I was merely showing you the evidence of my claim."

"Behold! Drippage in progress! That milk’s going where no milk has gone before."

"I must retrieve it."

She glared daggers, but her body was already betraying her.

’This bastard...’

He smirked as if her glare gave him bonus XP.

Then he reached for the dress.

She made a half-hearted attempt to stop him—more ceremonial than serious, like a knight tapping a sword during a fake duel.

’Damn... he got me good.’

Her thighs clenched on instinct, her breath shallow.

This trickery, this manipulation, this sexy courtroom lawyering—why did it get her off?

Her nipples were already tingling like they’d signed up for another round of torture.

"Let me do my job."

He grabbed her breast like it was step one on some very personal checklist, then gave her a push.

Down she went—soft thump, bed creaking, her hand flying up to muffle the gasp that nearly slipped.

She was already burning. Already pulsing. Already too ready.

He hooked his fingers around the stubborn, rain-stuck fabric and pulled.

One swift tug. The dress peeled off like it had been waiting to escape her body.

Now she was lying there.

Just her skin, her blush, and one soaked black lace panty that wasn’t hiding a damn thing.

She clamped her legs shut like a steel trap.

If he saw—really saw—he’d know.

That she’d already lost the bet. That her body had already waved the white flag, loud and messy.

But he just grabbed her legs and spread them. Wide. Unapologetic. Like it was his birthright.

"Ha ha... did you already cum?"

"What?! No! No I didn’t! It’s the rain! Yes, the rain! My panties are wet because of weather, okay?"

Uh-huh. Sure.

Her legs were in his hands, pinned wide, so she scrambled to cover her kitty with both hands like it made any difference.

He already knew.

Knew the way her thighs trembled.

Knew the look of someone who had definitely gone over the edge a few times while pretending otherwise.

He just chuckled. Devilishly.

"I didn’t ask why your panties were wet though."

"..."

"..."

She turned her head to the side so fast her hair followed like a curtain.

Anything.

Anything to avoid that smug, infuriating smirk stretching across his stupidly handsome face like he’d already won.

This was exactly what he wanted.

The setup.

The slow burn.

The teasing dance that drove her insane.

If he’d just said she came, boom—game over.

Bet lost.

He’d get a measly blowjob or, hell, even full-on sex if he pushed.

But where’s the fun in skipping dessert when the appetizer is already making her squirm?

No. He wanted her ruined.

A puddle. A panting, twitching mess by the end of it.

Not because she had to—because she couldn’t help herself.

’I want her to crave me.’

’And the only way to do that... is to make sure she never gets anything better than today.’

’Nothing better than me.’

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