Chapter 315 Gift for the Boss

The guards laughed, a harsh, grating sound that sent shivers down Timbo's spine. But he pressed on, his eyes wide with desperation. 

"Got a gift, too. Found a slave, a good one. Can bring her, yes? A fine gift for the bosses, yes. Just let me in, and I'll bring her right to you."

The scarred guard's eyes narrowed, but the mention of a gift seemed to pique his interest.

 "A gift, you say? What kind of slave? You better not be plotting anything! With the divine powers crushing the mountain, some shity slave is no concern of ours! It better be worth it or you will get it!"

Timbo nodded vigorously, wincing as the motion jarred his wounds. 

"Yes, yes, a strong one. Valuable. Please, let me in. Show you, I will. Just... just need a chance."

The guards exchanged looks, the promise of a valuable slave too tempting to pass up. Finally, the scarred one waved a hand dismissively.

 "Alright, you pathetic wretch. Bring this gift, and maybe we'll let you stay. But no funny business, got it?"

Timbo bowed low, his forehead touching the dirt. 

"Yes, yes, no funny business. Thank you, mighty guards. Timbo will be quick, promise."

As he turned and limped back toward the hidden Suzuka and Hermit, he couldn't help but feel a grim satisfaction. The plan was in motion, and soon, more goblins would be freed from their cruel masters.

As Timbo returned with Hermit and Suzuka in disguise, the guards were already waiting outside in a group, armed with makeshift spears fashioned from thick branches. The sight of their rough weapons and menacing postures was enough to make anyone's heart race, but Timbo, Suzuka, and Hermit kept their composure, knowing the success of their mission depended on it.

Timbo limped forward, each step accompanied by a pained wince. When he reached the guards, he bowed humbly, his body trembling from a combination of genuine pain and subservience. 

"Mighty guards," he began, his voice a strained whisper, "I bring you a gift, as promised. This here is a strong slave for breeding, and this one," he gestured to Hermit, "is a guard who fought bravely against the adventurers but had to retreat on the goblin master's orders."

The scarred guard stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Suzuka and Hermit. 

"A strong slave, you say?" he sneered, looking Suzuka up and down. 

"She does look tough. And you," he turned to Hermit, "what proof do we have that you fought bravely? For all we know, you could be a coward who ran at the first sign of trouble."

Hermit stepped forward, his face contorted into a menacing sneer. He raised his chin defiantly, showing the scars and bruises he had sustained from previous battles. 

"I fought bravely," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

 "These wounds are proof of my loyalty and bravery. I retreated only on the orders of our goblin master. I serve the goblin cause with my life."

The guards exchanged skeptical glances, but the sight of Hermit's scars and the authoritative tone in his voice seemed to sway them. The scarred guard grunted, then turned his attention back to Suzuka.

 "And you, slave," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

 "What's your story? Are you strong enough to breed more goblins, or are you just another useless human?"

Suzuka acted the part of a broken slave with a shattered mind, her expression vacant and lifeless from all the breeding she had endured. The evil goblin flashed a nasty grin and groped her curves, stopping at her breast and giving a few firm squeezes to gauge her reaction. Suzuka played her part to perfection, showing no emotion, as if utterly broken.

Seeing this, Hermit reassured the guard, "She's a perfect breeding whore, broken. You won’t have to worry about her resisting."

Just as they were discussing, one of the guards stepped forward and squinted at Timbo. 

"Wait a bit! This miserable slave is Timbo! The shitty slave that sometimes comes to deliver information between our farms. He's in such a sorry state it took a while to recognize him, but yeah, it’s shitty Timbo!"

Timbo convulsed in fear upon hearing a familiar voice. It was a guard particularly fixated on hurting him. He bowed, showing his utmost reverence and submission, hoping to avoid the usual beatings and torture he received every time he visited this farm. But the guard had other plans. He started to chant, "Kick the Timbo! Kick the Timbo!" Soon, one after another, the guards joined in chanting.

Timbo whimpered in a desperate plea, "Please! No kick Timbo, no kick! I beg!"

But the guards had other twisted plans. The game was simple and cruel: each guard will take turns kicking Timbo in the butt, sending him flying through the air. The guard who kicked him the furthest would win. Timbo squealed in pain and pleaded pathetically for mercy, his voice cracking as he begged to be spared from this torture. He was already hurt and in pain, unable to endure such punishment. 

He whimpered that his little body couldn’t take it, that it would shatter under the abuse. But his desperate pleas only fueled the guards’ sick enjoyment. He clasped his hands together, knuckles white and shaking as he groveled at their feet. 

"I’ll do anything, anything you want. Just please, stop the beatings. My skin is already raw, my limbs are so frail and broken. I’m just a pitiful goblin, not meant to endure this kind of suffering."

The goblin's small frame trembled as he crumpled to the ground, his voice a pitiful whimper that barely rose above a whisper.

 "Please, mighty master, please, mercy," he begged, his words choking out between ragged sobs. 

"My body... it can't take it anymore. It will shatter under this abuse."

His eyes, wide and filled with terror, darted frantically from one guard to another, searching for any hint of mercy in their cruel faces. 

"I’m too weak... too small," he cried, his voice cracking with despair. 

The guards exchanged sadistic grins, their eyes gleaming with a sick enjoyment at the spectacle before them. They relished in his agony, each tear, and pained gasp only adding to their twisted pleasure.

Two guards grabbed Timbo by his shoulders, lifting him with malicious grins. Then, one of the guards, with a running start, delivered a devastating kick more to Timbo's crotch than his butt, sending him soaring up into the air rather than the distance.

 The forest clearing echoed with Timbo's agonizing scream, as the boot smashed his egg laying ball sack.

 "WRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" He squealed in pain as his ballsack squelched from the brutal impact. He flew high in the air and flopped face-first to the muddy ground, clutching his crotch and squealing painfully, "WREEEE! WREEEE! REEEEEE!"

Though the kick didn’t secure the win for the guard, it spurred uproarious laughter and glee from the others. They hoisted Timbo back up immediately, showing no mercy. Another guard lined up his shot and delivered a kick so hard to Timbo’s butt that he somersaulted in the air, squealing like a pig on fire, "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!" The force of the kick made Timbo shit himself, spraying feces like a sprinkler as he was somersaulting through the air, adding to his humiliation and the guards' amusement.

"Please! Stop! Timbo hurt! Timbo can't take more! No more! No more! Mercy! Help! Please, help!" he cried out, his voice a broken wail.

But Timbo found no respite. Just as he flopped to the ground, the guards lifted him back up and kicked him again and again. Each kick was more brutal than the last, his tiny body bouncing and flipping through the air, emitting a series of agonizing squeals. The forest echoed with his cries, "Eeeeeeeeeek! Wraaaaaa! Wrreeeee!" as the sadistic game continued.

Timbo's body convulsed with each impact, his screams growing weaker as his strength ebbed away. He knew he couldn't endure much more; his bones felt like they were shattering with each brutal blow.

"Again! Again!" the guards chanted, their eyes gleaming with malicious delight. Timbo's pleas became softer, his voice hoarse from screaming. 

"Please... no more... Timbo... can't..."

The guards took turns, each kick sending Timbo flying in different directions, his body a ragdoll in their cruel game. The ground around them became littered with mud, shit, and bits of grass, churned up by Timbo's relentless flailing. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of torment, the winner was declared. The guards, laughing and jeering, dropped Timbo to the ground, leaving him to writhe in pain, his body bruised and broken, his spirit crushed.

Timbo lay there, barely conscious, his breath coming in painful gasps. The guard who won, satisfied with their game, moved on, leaving Timbo broken and defeated in the mud.

But the losers of the game had other nasty, sick plans. They closed in on Timbo, their faces twisted with sadistic glee. One of them kicked him hard in the ribs, sending him sprawling to the ground. Another guard stomped on his hand, causing him to cry out in agony. They took turns, each delivering a blow more vicious than the last, their laughter echoing around the clearing.

Hermit and Suzuka watched with a mix of horror and helplessness, knowing they couldn't blow their cover just yet. Hermit's fists clenched at his sides, and he bit his tongue to keep from crying out in sorrow and helplessness. Suzuka's eyes looked at the scene with cold indifference and annoyance.

He huddled on the ground in a mangled ball of flesh, his small frame trembling violently as tears streaked down his dirt-streaked face.

 "Please," he whimpered, his voice barely audible above the distant sounds of cruel laughter and the echoing footsteps of stomping guards.

"My body... it can't take anymore," he pleaded, his words choked with fear and agony. 

"I'm begging you... have mercy. I'll do anything... just please, stop."