Fantasy Erotica
Lupercalia and the Leprechauns
A Goblin Combe story
Saint Ethel’s College for Women, Oxford, is an establishment that contains a number of secrets. These secrets include the fact that the Principal, Professor Gwendolyn Harding, is not the exceedingly tall and glamorous woman she appears to be but is in fact an orc matriarch. When she is not wearing the ancient gold torc that provides her glamour, by which I mean her disguise, she is in fact even taller, but also becomes a disturbing shade of green.
The second great secret of Saint Ethel’s College is that one of the students, a Miss Bellisima Strange, an earnest scholar of history and generally known as being “up for anything”, was also the Queen of the Goblins of Goblin Combe. That would be me, of course. Thankfully the people responsible for these two secrets were aware of each other’s secret, so there was at least one person we could confide in. One day the Principal and I were confiding in her rooms at the college while she was recovering from the protracted session of cunnilingus, I had given her while she was tied to her bed in orc form.
“So what are you doing for Lupercalia?” she asked.
“Valentine’s Day? Nothing much, I was thinking I would get the goblins to organise a ball but they went into a panic, wailing on about leprechauns and telling me I should stay in the human world where I would, supposedly, be “safe”. What diminutive Irish fairies might do to me I don’t know.” Principal Harding looked at me with a weird expression and then burst out laughing, which is quite a thing to observe given that she was almost seven feet tall and green, while I am just over five feet.
“My dear Bellisima,” she eventually calmed down and spoke. “The goblins really don’t tell you much, do they?”
“No, despite my constant asking. I suspect they think I will find some mythical folk that I find more interesting than goblins and leave them or discover some goblin secret and not like them anymore. They forget that it was specifically goblins that I was looking for when I walked down Goblin Combe.”
“Well, you know that all of the mythical folk were originally spirits that became manifest, right?”
“Yes, goblins and orcs are earth spirits.”
“Yes! Well, ideas have spirits, too, in fact you have met some of them, or at least their descendants. Belili and Alex are the children of ideas that became embodied as anthropomorphizations thousands of years ago. Their mother is desire, that deep desire of night when you cannot be with the beloved. One of the names she is known as is Lilith. Their father is justice, that vengeful justice that also keeps you awake at night. One of his many names is Samael.”
“But isn’t that the Devil? Lucifer?” She smiled.
“Yes, and I’m an ogre.” Of course, originally the terms “orc” and “ogre” were the same, but ogres got a bad press, and then Tolkien gave orcs a bad press. She was a very beautiful, whether ogre or orc. “Do you think my name was Gwendolyne when I wakened in those days when humans first walked the lands, naming things and worshipping them? No, so it is with Lilit and Samael. Once we were all gods, some great, some lesser, but when humans, mostly men, changed their beliefs to make one big male in charge, everyone else had to fit into that framework in the minds of mortals. Those that did what humans liked were called angels, those that did what humans didn’t like, were called demons.”
I understood enough about history and the changing ways that humans had created belief systems to suit their changing needs that I could understand her.
“So, what about the leprechauns?”
“Lupercalia is an ancient festival of the awakening of life after winter, coming after Candlemas or Imbolc, the Feast of Brigid. It is particularly loved by the ancient gods of fertility, like the Dusioi and your friend Alex and his brothers, who were called Incubi. Do you remember what happened in the festival of Lupercalia?” Occasionally she reminded me that she was actually one of my teachers, which was not a turn-off for me at all as I find knowledge to be incredibly sexy.
“Um, something about youths running around naked and beating women with whips?”
“Very good! Well this incredibly intense religious experience manifested itself into randy little spirits with whips.”
“Leprechauns?” I said incredulously. Then I realised that Lupercalia and Leprechaun sounded very similar.
“They are actually very shy creatures normally and don’t like to live in groups so they can’t create their own enclaves like your goblin friends did. They rely on living dispersed in remote areas where there is relatively little population.”
“Ireland?”
“It has one of the lowest populations in Europe, only the Baltic states and Russia have more space. But Lupercalia it is their time! They all get together in bands and create havoc, whipping women and driving them crazy with desire and then ravishing them! Oh, and they turn into werewolves!”
“What? Leprechaun werewolves? That’s insane!”
“Lupra…calia? You have enough Latin to know a wolf when you see one, I assume?”
“Oh, lupus, right. That does sound dangerous. No wonder the goblins want me out of it. It doesn’t affect the mortal world?”
“Not since the Edict of Aachen. It really isn’t dangerous at all. I suspect the goblins are actually worried you will go berserk on them like you did on Krampus Night. Well don’t worry about them, tell them you will be safe here, but you and I will have fun, agreed?”
I nodded in agreement. Her incredible smile was hard to resist.
So Valentine’s Day came. The goblins all gave me cards, as Toby had found it was a tradition amongst humans, but then they left me alone as I told them I had “studenting stuff” to do and they really didn’t want me to go to Goblin Combe. I then joined Principal Harding, and we stepped through a mirror into her other domain.
The orcs seemed to live in a castle deep in an impenetrable forest. I was expecting something more brutal and Tolkienesque, but it was actually more Romanesque, with beautiful carvings of trees in the archways. All the furniture was, however, very robust, although beautifully made. The orcs were gracious, as I would expect in the presence of their queen, and typically a mere 6 feet high compared to her seven feet in her full orc state. They were not the ugly creatures I might have expected, but looked more like very well-muscled and robustly handsome men, although all very green, with eyes like emeralds.
The orcs males had very sly smiles when she instructed them to protect her and I from the leprechauns, who I was already calling “luprachauns” in my head. I think she pretended to not notice that smile of theirs.
We took up positions in the throne room, the queen, my Principal, standing graciously in front of her bejeweled throne, her orcs standing in front of us. Then we heard a commotion from the entrance, and some of the orcs went off to investigate. But instead of their return, hordes of small figures rushed into the room, laughing maniacally and swinging multi-tailed floggers. All of them were next to naked. It seemed that they had been wearing clothing, but they had torn it off in a frenzy. The leprechauns formed a circle around us, smiling and drooling slightly at the sight of the queen and I, then suddenly they darted forward towards us, whooping and screaming. The huge orcs were pretty useless, as the leprechauns just dodged past them, and then suddenly I had partly whip-swinging leprechauns all over me. They tore at my clothes until I was soon naked, and they dragged me to the floor by the weight of their numbers.
Once the leprechauns had me down, I was flipped over to expose my bare bottom and immediately I felt the lash of the whips on my butt cheeks. Vainly I wriggled and writhed as they whipped my ass into a painfully bright red colour. But I really didn’t care about the pain, even less than usual. I was starting to feel incredibly horny. A deep visceral need for big knobbly throbbing cocks was starting to overwhelm me. It was only now that the frenzied leprechauns started to change, and through what seemed to be a very painful transition they grew in size and hairiness to become werewolves. They were very well hung werewolves, also.
My lust seemed to increase my strength, and I threw the werewolf leprechauns off to grab one by the cock and drag him towards me. I wrapped my thighs around him, his drooling slathering mouth close to mine, and he thrust into me. I started to grind into him as he thrust, and then others grabbed me with sharp claws, thrusting into any orifice they could find.
However, the werewolves were actually more of a size for the orcs to deal with, so after a pause they started to drag the luprachauns off of me. Some of the werewolves managed to get a shot into me before they were lifted up and thrown across the room, to scurry away looking for easier prey.
But that left the orc males with two frenzied feral females, unsatisfied and dripping with werewolf cum, and one of us was bigger than them. With a leap we were on them, pulling off their loin-coverings to reveal majestic green throbbing cocks, with delightfully large pulsing heads and delectable ribs and veins. I was like a ravening wolf hungry for sausage, and I swallowed one green member whole, while the other orcs obliged my desire. My every orifice was filled with orc cock, my hands were filled with glorious throbbing phalluses which I squeezed until they shot cum all over me. Orc after orc was used and discarded as my wild fever of lust demanded a tidal wave of orcish ejaculant to satisfy me.
Finally, the queen and I stood amongst those fallen heroes.
“Fancy some desert?” she said. “Something light to finish off the evening?”
“I do believe in the concept of the desert stomach,” I told her. She passed me her ancient golden torq, which gave her the glamour of appearing human. On me, however, it turned me into a six-foot tall orc.
“There is also a tradition in Lupercalia of role reversal, so perhaps a little of that?” She gave me her magnificent smile.
Soon we had passed through a mirror into a room I recognised. It was the dungeon of St Ethel’s College in Oxford, and indeed it was a dungeon, as an earlier principal had filled it with torture devices “for fun”. In the dungeon kneeled a naked man with short grey hair. It was the Dean of the college, just about the only male in the college in fact. The Dean was responsible for discipline, and it was an old tradition of the college that enabled women to understand that the oppression of patriarchy still existed beyond the college walls. Of course it also enabled any of the ladies that enjoyed a bit of patriarchy once in a while to get some simply by getting into a little trouble, for then the college Prefects would bring her to get “Deaned”, as it was known.
The principal walked majestically across the dungeon, and put a collar with a leash around the Dean’s neck, and then tugged at the leash until he was standing. It was then that he noticed me. It took a while, but his eyes went wide when he recognised me. He was so much shorter when I was six feet and he was in bare feet. The principal handed me the leash, and I pulled him towards a rail, and then bent him over it, tying his arms along the rail to keep him in position. I took my time selecting a nice leather strap, and then I let him have it. I started to get his bottom a good rosy red and then the Dean started whimpering, but the Principal came up with a couple of strap-ons, one for her and one for me.
The Principal immediately stopped the Dean’s whimpering by thrusting her strap-on down his throat, and soon I was doing the same at the other end, shoving the thick shaft between his rosy red cheeks. I enjoyed the power and weight of the orcish body as I powered the shaft harder and harder into him, pounding into his tender bottom.
When we were satisfied, the Principal led the Dean to a bench, and tied him to it on his back. She gripped his cock, hard, and muttered a few words. His cock was certainly sufficient to satisfy me normally, but we had just fecked a small army of very large orcs, so she obviously wanted more. The phallus grew bigger and bigger, and the Dean writhed as it seemed to actually be quite painful. The Dean’s cock was now bright red and throbbing, and the Principal invited me to sit on it. I first grasped it, hot and hard like steel, and gave it a long cooling lick from the balls to the pulsing shiny head, then sat on it.
“Mmm,” I said, smiling. It was very hot and throbby. There was now a muffled noise followed by slurping as the Principal sat on the Dean’s face. The orc queen and the goblin queen now faced each other and smiled.
“So what do you think of Lupercalia now?”
“Why do we only do this once a year?”
“As a treat,” she said, and then she and I kissed, deep and long, our hips grinding vigorously into the bound body of the Dean.
Author’s note: A recent revision of the Dictionary of the Irish Language has shown that the term “leprechaun” originally derived from Latin “lupercus” the god of Lupercalia.
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