The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mages had all sorts of ways to teleport. At least, those rare few who possessed the talent. Some liked to teleport with great fanfare and excitement—big explosions, blasts of lightning, clouds of mist, flocks of jays. Some preferred to teleport with absolutely no effect at all, of course. These boring individuals simply blinked into existence, with nothing so much as a flash or puff of smoke.

Anya generally fell somewhere in the middle. She absolutely understood the appeal of the “big flash”, but she didn’t really like advertizing her presence to everyone and their dog. A mage had to have standards, yes, but there was nothing shameful about a bit of caution.

And so it was that Anya Wetherdean appeared in the small town of Yojeong with a single, decisive bip.

It was nighttime, and so there were few about to pay her any heed. There was one elderly Eastern gentleman packing up a stall full of books, and he did shoot Anya an annoyed glare, but he turned away without a word when she returned his attention with a raised eyebrow.

So, not terribly friendly towards newcomers—which, fair, Anya was well-aware that her presence here was a necessary evil at best—but also not too unused to teleporters.

Or this just happened to be a very cranky, very magic-accustomed old man.

Anya was off-balance. Not from the teleportation—teleporation was Anya’s job, and she was damn good at it. No, she was off-balance because she had no idea what she was really doing. All she knew was that Senya hadn’t written in weeks since setting out with a very sketchy ex-pirate, and her messages simply weren’t getting through. He’d last written from a tavern here in town. So it made sense to stop by that tavern.

The tavern was an old, well-loved establishment by the name of the Hanidoron. There were lights on inside, indicating at least some activity within. Maybe some traders. Maybe some traders who’d seen her brother.

Anya bit her lip.

Anya generally saw herself as very at-home in a lot of different situations. She’d grown up on the streets, and learned to be tough and vicious, but then she’d gotten picked up by Duke Horatio’s ‘talent scouts’ and lodged in an apprenticeship, and she’d learned to be even more vicious there. She’d done a lot of good work behind enemy lines, and she’d done a lot of useless but better-paying work ferrying rich and dimwitted nobles around the continent.

She also kept bees. Anya was pretty sure beekeeping was her most useful talent, and she refused to hear from anyone who suggested otherwise. Beekeeping taught resilience. It taught guts. It taught ecology. And because of honey’s international demand, it taught you a smattering of quite a few distinct languages, including a few Eastern tongues. It was basically the only profession in the world worth a damn.

Beekeeping also tended to get you in at least distant interactions with Thriae, since their bees tended to seek to raid her hives like big old black-and-yellow bears.

And this had taught her that any tavern whose name loosely translated to ‘The Honey Drone’ was best approached with severe caution.

Her mind raced. Then again, there was a Thriae hive nearby here. Anya supposed it wasn’t nice to judge; having a nearby hive warped communities in subtle ways.

She stuck her tongue into her cheek and quickly ran over what she could puzzle out as she approached the tavern entrance.

One: Since the village was exactly where Senya had indicated it was, it was a safe bet the Ranch wasn’t far-off—if it even existed at all.

Two: Anya had heard that humans and fey tended to get along better in the Wild East, but she couldn’t even begin to imagine that translating to cozy relations with Thriae. Thriae were assholes. Wasp-waisted wastrels no matter where you were. So she needed to work out what the relations were, and fast, before she ended up with honey shoes and a dozen golden-eyed drones using her as a pool toy.

Three: There was a fucking gorgeous young lady leaning against the side of the tavern. Had she... been there a second ago?

Anya stopped in her tracks. She licked her lips, head tilting to the side. “Excuse me?” she called. “Miss?” A moment later, she grimaced, realizing that this woman probably didn’t speak Westerm.

But to her surprise, the young woman turned and beamed at her. “Ah! Yes, Madam... Keybearer?”

Anya blinked. “Keybearer?” She stepped out of the light of the tavern window to help her eyes adjust. The pretty young thing leaned back in the shadows, clearly looking her over—but to what end, Anya could only guess. Her long black hair blended in with the background, but her vivid blue eyes immediately caught Anya’s attention. Those eyes were electric.

Looking into this woman’s eyes, Anya, with her short brown hair and dull green eyes, felt positively plain by comparison. She unconsciously glanced at the woman’s breasts, since the woman was doing the same to her, and bit her lip. Oh, she would have to be careful with this one. Anya was fairly small, but even so, this stranger definitely put her to shame. Anya was already mentally undressing her when the woman’s next words swung her back into reality.

“Oh, you know.” The woman laughed. “You open doors in the world, yes? ‘Keybearer’ is very, um, simple translation.”

“Ah. Yes.” Anya nodded, smiling politely. “My name’s Anya, though.”

The woman smiled, lifting a tall mug to her lips. Anya couldn’t tell if she was drinking or just smelling, but her eyes half-closed as if in rapture. “Call me Nun.”

“Yes, Nun.” Anya blinked.’

And blinked again.

She rubbed her eyes with a hand. “W-wait, you’re... mm, you’re...”

“Yes?” Nun asked sweetly, stepping forward and taking Anya by the arm.

Anya could feel it now—the pins-and-needles sensation at the back of her neck she’d mistaken for ordinary nerves. She struggled weakly against the grip on her arm, but mightily against the enchantment. Nun was incredibly powerful, and the twisting inside her mind was ferocious.

Nun started stroking Anya’s arm as she dragged her prey into the shadows with her. Anya whimpered and shook herself, desperately trying to keep the sensation from scattering her will. “What am I, Anya? What am I... doing to you?”

“N-no...” Anya screwed her eyes shut, even as Nun draged her further into the darkness. “You can’t do this!”

“Maybe not,” Nun cooed, “but I feel your magic.” Her hand continued the smooth stroking. “Very strong. Your will, too. But you cannot teleport again so soon, I think!” Anya felt her tenderly kissing and suckling at her neck, and heard the wet sounds. “So... tired...”

“Get off, you goddamn...” Anya trembled, giving another weak tug. She felt crunching beneath her shoes, and she realized they were walking into the forest, now, leaving the light of the town behind them. “You can’t master me!”

“Maybe not,” Nun repeated, her voice low and sweet, “but this can.”

The mug came to Anya’s lips. Anya kept her mouth tightly shut, but she smelled it. Oh, she smelled it.

Holstaur milk. Fresh holstaur milk. Her heart was pounding.

“You drink,” Nun cooed, “and I will help you on your way, sweet girl!”

Anya’s lips were tingling.

“You drink,” Nun husked, her voice much closer, “and I let you... unfold for me. I make you—”

And then she felt Nun freeze in place. And there came a voice, very clear, very cool, without a trace of any accent whatsoever.

“Oh, Nun, what the heck are you up to now?”

And then another voice, accented thickly by contrast. “Up to your old tricks, yes, Nun?”

Anya’s eyes opened.

Before her and Nun stood a pair of cloaked figures. One had a swishing fox tail behind her; the other had the features of a dark-skinned man, but with striking silver eyes and goat-like pupils.

There was a moment of silence. Anya felt the pressure on her mind slowly relaxing, and she let out a small sigh of relief.

Nun gave a low sigh of her own and lowered the mug. “Well,” she said icily, “it seems, my sweet Anya, to be your lucky day.” She turned to the fox-tailed woman and sketched a slight bow, delivering a rapid greeting in one of the Eastern tongues. She then said, in Western once more, “Hello, Suisshu. Hello, Mier. Let me just... remove some prying ears.”

And just as Anya found herself relaxing, she felt Nun squeeze her arm, and Nun’s whole mental force flooded her mind. Before she could think to resist, it blossomed, filling her vision with a happy blue fog.

And she knew nothing more for a while.

As he made his way through the darkness of a starless night, through a Ranch populated by predatory fey and intoxicating plants, led by a catgirl who had previously tried to brainwash him with drugged wine and who was held in check only by the presence of a belled collar around her neck that had been gently chiming for the last ten minutes, Senya couldn’t help but wonder if he was being a little bit reckless.

He really couldn’t see much of anything, first off. He was led only by a thin strip of cloth Valina had tied to his wrists, quite helpfully, to help him follow her. This red ribbon reminded him vaguely of a leash.

The catgirl he could only faintly make out, a lithe silhouette against the darkness of very, very early morning. Her ears were flattened. It seemed Valina was in a sour mood. She definitely wasn’t paying him any attention—a rare phenomenon these days.

They were passing by the hen harpy coop now. Senya could faintly hear little clucks from within, and his mind jumbled, just slightly, until they were past. He still had yet to meet the hen harpies, but judging by how he always felt from even the slightest hint of their melodic babbling, he had a feeling it would be an experience to remember when he did.

But they kept walking, and soon left the coop behind. Some other time, perhaps.

After some time, Senya noticed a faint orange light off in the distance. He stumbled slightly, and Valina tugged the ribbon impatiently. “Come on, Master,” she said, her bell chiming sweetly with her words. But there was no one to hear its warning except her and Senya.

Senya squinted off into the distance at the source of the light. There was a small group of figures out in the fields. The light came from their glowing, flickering eyes, shining with uncommon brilliance on this dark night.

It was the scarecrows. Three scarecrows, gathered around a fourth figure. That figure had something behind her—it took Senya a moment to recognize it as a bushy fox tail. She was tied to a pair of wooden beams in a cross shape. It was like... like some sort of crucifixion. Or like a scarecrow.

The scarecrows around her were holding her head steady, in spite of her weak squirms. They seemed to be...

“What are they doing?” he whispered.

Valina stopped tugging on his ribbon for a moment to look. Her ears flattened and flicked, as if a fly had buzzed by. “Sawdust from the suckersap maple mixed with Thriae honey mixed with nymph juices.”

“What?”

“To still the fey’s spirit.” The catgirl bit her lip. “They’re spoonfeeding it to her. Stuffing her. Then they’ll tease her all night and day, while she’s too docile to even complain. Then they’ll make her cum for the whole night after, nonstop.” She licked her lips, squirming slightly. “After that, they’ll decide if they want to keep her as a prisoner of the Ranch, or just finish her off.”

“F-finish her off?” Senya stared at the kitsune intently, though he could barely even make out her outline at this distance.

“Those who attack the Ranch, and the Master, are criminals, you know.” The catgirl sniffed, her tone indicating quite a bit of ambivalence—as if she didn’t see any great fuss with the idea of attacking Senya with a sword. “I think they’ll finish her. Bobbi needs new scarecrows.”

Senya blinked. He started at the writhing figure, and saw the glint of the silver spoon they were using to spoonfeed her the concoction. She seemed to be trying to avoid the spoon, but they held her still, and her mouth kept opening.

He felt a tug on the ribbon. “Master,” the catgirl said softly, “be a good boy!”

He turned and resumed walking, his thoughts troubled as they approached the Honey Hill.

It took him a moment to realize that was where they were going. That moment was very long, due to his slightly hazy, drowsy state. And then they were at the base.

“Why are we here?” he whispered, staring up the hill. He felt the strangest tugging as he looked up there. It was like... like he was a little leaf boat in a stream, being dragged by the current.

No. Like he was a piece of driftwood in the ocean, being dragged by the tides back to shore. Back home.

“Come on, Master,” said Valina cheerfully, tugging him up the hill. He followed in entranced compliance, staring up at the brightly colored clover tree. Everything was getting so... wispy, and it only got worse the closer he got to that tree.

Why was it all so familiar? What was this? Where was this?

Had he been here before? More than once?

He heard a distant moan, and his heart quickened. His cock was already swelling, stiffening. His breath was ragged. “Valina,” he whispered. “I don’t...”

“Come on, Master,” the catgirl repeated, tugging harder. But he resisted. He was frozen in place, feeling a stronger tugging—a tugging at his heart he could barely control.

The catgirl paused, then moved closer. He was staring, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, up at the tree. In the deep darkness, he swore he could see rustling. Hear little gasps and cries. Were there... people up there? Or something like people?

“Up the hill, Master,” the catgirl mewled in his ear, giving his neck a rough little lap. “Good boy goes up the hill. Good boy obeys.”

The bell was ringing very loudly. But there was no one to hear it. Certainly not Senya. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the growing static of his pliant mind, and those sweet, distant moans.

He slowly walked up the hill, practically dragged along by the catgirl. They were getting closer and closer to the cottage... and closer and closer to the tree.

Even as he rose, his mind felt like it was sliding down a steep slope, deeper and deeper. He was struggling now. What was he doing here? Why had he obeyed Valina’s invitation? Why had he let her... let her tie him up?

This was bad. His mind felt like a melting scoop of ice cream in a cone, slowly sliding out onto pavement. He needed to think. He couldn’t think. With every muffled squeal or moan from above, his mind got a little bit weaker, a little bit more confused. He was swaying in place as they drew near the door. His only lifeline was the catgirl’s gentle tugging at his bound wrists.

“Stroke, stroke!” sang a voice from above.

Valina stopped in her tracks. Senya felt his heart soar, and unable to help himself, his mind went totally blank as he turned and looked up at the clover tree.

Six beembos lay up there, entwined within each other’s arms. Senya didn’t know how he knew what they were called, but that was what they were. They had blonde hair—mostly dirty blonde, but one in particular stood out with wavy platinum locks and incredibly plump lips. Their eyes were compound and a brilliant honey gold, and diaphanous wings fluttered behind them.

They all had the posteriors of enormous honeybees, complete with stingers.

They were also covered in oily amber juices. Dripping with them. Five of them lay over the platinum blonde, who was also, he noticed, much more voluptuous than the rest. She was being held up and toyed with, but she didn’t seem to be cumming. Just... mewling. Gasping. Her face was ruby-red with exhaustion and need, and she was reaching out her arms for Senya.

“Stroke, stroke!” cooed Ting, one of the dirty blondes, grinning down at him. He gave a nervous smile back. Wait, how did he know her name?

“Wh... wh...” He breathed in deeply, staring up at the queen beembo with a feeling something like rapture. He couldn’t look away. “I... oh...”

“Stroke, stroke, Master!” hissed a teasing voice in his ear, and he felt Valina’s arms wrap around him, felt supple fingers encircle his cock. She started to pump him in agonizingly slow strokes, giggling softly. “Stroke, stroke!”

He stared up at the queen. She stared back at him, whimpering and whining at her mistresses’ teasing. Her plump, red lips stuck out in a wonderful pout. Those lips... her kisses...

He had dreamed of those kisses.

“Bezzy missed you,” hissed Ting in his other ear, and Senya weakly grasped that she had flown down to his other side. As Valine slowly pumped his member, Ting’s fingers lightly stroked the tip, rendering Valina’s touches uneven and mind-numbing. “Stroke, stroke.”

Senya whimpered, trying to step away from them. But they held him still.

“Master must be a good boy,” the catgirl cooed, licking his neck. Again and again, with that perfect rough tongue of hers. “Master must join his beembos!”

“He’ll make such a good hive king,” moaned Ting, kissing his neck from the other side as she played with his cock. “Such a good little beembo.”

The words filled his mind like a flood of slow-flowing honey. His knees quaked, but they held him steady. He stared up at Bezzy as the beembos grasped her fingers and used her hands to stroke their own pussies. She stared down at him, eyes wide with desire.

Senya needed to join her. It wasn’t a want. It was a need, every bit as overwhelming as the need to grab onto a rope when falling from a great height. With such overwhelming desire, he started to shamble forward, glassy eyes locked on Bezzy’s curvy form.

“Bezzy can’t wait until they have you,” Valina cooed, her bell chiming in time with her hand as she pumped Senya up. The bell was less a warning, now, and more a dreadful knell to announce his slow undoing. Both tittering, she and Ting switched up so they each had a hand pumping his cock. They were both kissing his neck, his cheeks, taking turns kissing him on the lips. “That nasty little slut needs her own playmate.”

“The only thing more played with than the Hive Queen,” Ting cooed, squeezing Senya’s ass, “is our horny little King.” Her breath was hot and heady in his ear. “But you want that, don’t you? Stroke, stroke.”

His knees buckled completely as he tried to take another step. They supported him, carrying him towards the tree.

“Enjoy him, girls,” purred the catgirl. She grasped Senya by the chin, eyes gleaming with strange affection, and gave Senya one last kiss.

Senya was caught slightly off-guard as her lips contacted his. It was a surprisingly tender kiss. For a moment, the steady pleasure of hers and Ting’s hands melted away, replaced by her tongue slipping into his mouth, a slow, sweet embrace, the soft sound of lips smacking, little sighs shared between them.

She pulled back, beaming, and released him. “Ooh, I wish I could just suck Master one more time...”

“Come up here with us!” sang the beembos above in unison.

“Be our little kitten!” cooed one, as she pressed Bezzy’s face against her clit.

“We always need new beembos,” gasped another, as she rocked back and forth on Bezzy’s fingers.

“Sorry. This little kitty’s got plans.” Valina giggled. “But I knew you’d be able to help! So you’ll... finish it? Not just play, yes?”

“Ooh, yeah.” Ting’s arms slowly wrapped around Senya as Valina pulled away. Senya found himself gripped in another tight embrace, and he melted right into it without even a small protest. “He’ll be ours by morning.”

The way she said ‘ours’ felt different, somehow. Different from how the alraune said it. Different even from how Mommy said ‘mine’.

Senya, drugged by sheer lust as the beembo edged him with her sticky fingers, realized that this was something else. He stared up into Ting’s amused eyes as she circled to his front.

“W-what...” he gasped. “What’re you g-gonna do?”

Ting just smirked and started to lift him up into the air, her whole body buzzing against him as her wings carried them upwards.

As she kissed his neck and stroked his cock, he looked weakly down at Valina.

The catgirl smiled up at him, her eyes again glimmering with alien thought. “It’s... a shame,” she said, rubbing her ear as she watched him rise. “I always thought I’d be the one to finish it. But we all ran out of time. It’s better this way, anyways.”

Senya trembled as Ting’s kisses started to caress his mind into docility. “V-Valina...”

Valina giggled. She rubbed her ear again, turning away. “It was nice having someone use that name again for me. That... it wasn’t so bad.” She released the ribbon. “But your part in this story is done, ‘Master’.”

The bell rang loudly.

“Oh, hush.”

“Val—” But Senya was cut off as Ting finally turned his face towards her and kissed him directly, and his words melted instantly into happy moans. She clutched him tightly, her tongue eagerly exploring his mouth. He was totally limp in her arms. She was giggling.

And then they were all giggling, as Senya descended, at long last, into the clover tree of the beembos.

Valina watched for a moment as her ‘Master’ was sweetly subsumed into the mass of writhing bodies. She licked her lips. Maybe she’d join him one day, once he was properly... primed. Maybe she’d have time one day for a brief little session. She could suck his cock for him. He’d like that.

Then again, it seemed unlikely she’d be around long enough for such a plan to come to fruition. Too bad.

The Master was finished. Bobbin and Jerod slept, the scarecrows were occupied with their little games, and all the pieces were coming together around this little territory. In two nights’ time, the Ambrosia Ranch would fall.

She smirked. No more Masters. No more Market Days.

It was sort of a pity, the catgirl supposed. This Master had been nice enough. But he had never been a friend. This was the easiest route—the quickest route, the safest route. And with him in the beembos’ clutches, there was no one else to stand in Valina’s way.

The time was long overdue for control over this place to change hands once more.

“Goodbye, Master,” she said softly.

She turned—and found herself staring into four pastel lights.

Senya stared up at the beembos in wide-eyed delight, wriggling helplessly in Ting’s grip.

“A boy!” breathed one of them, crawling up and feeling his immense cock. He twitched in pleasure, and she let out a gasp. “Ooh, we haven’t had a boy beembo in... so, so long.”

“Not since the Cloistermage!” cooed another, sliding her finger into Senya’s mouth. He found himself docilely suckling. She tasted sweet. Sweet and... sweet. Nothing else.

He found himself gazing glassy-eyed into the gleaming golden eyes of four very, very horny beembos.

They giggled excitedly, looking between one another with mischievous expressions.

And they began to play.

Ting was the first to act, squirming around him and sliding right down onto his cock.

His eyes widened, and he let out a squeak as her slick sweetness started to stroke his cock mercilessly. She squealed in pleasure and immediately began bouncing in his lap. Her lips made an o’ shape, and she let out a blissful sigh. Her sighs got higher and higher-pitched as she continued to bounce.

The next-fastest beembo took his face, and he found his tongue licking obediently over her puffy, honeyed lips. Something about the sweetness was almost unbearable. He couldn’t get enough of it. It was like cotton candy. The more he ate, the emptier he felt.

He felt his hands taken, and the other two started stroking themselves, wielding him like... like a living toy.

Oh, fuck, that thought was so sexy right now. He started to mewl, his mind fast-melting into a sweet, tranquil bliss.

And then his gaze was consumed by the wild, wild eyes of the Beembo Queen, and he felt her mind touch his own.

You are a good beembo.

He blinked. His eyelids fluttered. He gasped and squirmed. Licked. Drank. Bcked.

You are a good beembo.

His cock throbbed as the pussy slicked around him.

You have dreamed of us. Cried out in the night for us. Because you are a good beembo! And good beembos want to OBEY!

He whimpered and nodded, lapping away. The beembos were crying out, giggling, screaming. Ting came with a squeal, and was quickly replaced by another hot pussy. He couldn’t tell the difference. He was immersed in sweet emptiness. Sweet, fuzzy, cotton-candy-headed bliss.

Yes. Bezzy giggled, leaning in and softly kissing his cheek. You can be like me. A good beembo. Just sucking and fucking. Fucking and sucking. Licking and lapping. Stroking. Moaning. Doesn’t that sound nice?

His cock was throbbing. He started to moan, knowing he was about to cum. They didn’t slow down. This was going to be his life. Eternal orgasms. He had never been so happy, he was sure.

That’s right, cooed the soft voice in his soft, empty head. Your big, silly cock already made the choice for you. We’re gonna build you, and build you, and build you, all night long. Good beembo.

He was whining. Sucking the clit into his mouth. Juices were pouring all over his face, immersing him in tingly sweetness. The clover blooms beneath him tickled his back. His fingers were tingling, like they had recently fallen asleep, as the beembos came all over them, covering his fingers in gooey, crackly sweetness.

But he wasn’t cumming.

We’ll build you, the voice said, as Bezzy kept kissing him, until you’re a nice, horny, empty beembo! Bezzy giggled. He just gasped and cried out as the pussy rapidly slid up and down over his shaft. It won’t take long! Ooh, so horny. So... Bounce-bounce-bounce. ... Neeeeedy.

He mewled and whimpered his agreement. The second beembo was coming on his cock. He was licking the beembo riding his tongue to what had to be a third orgasm when she was finally wrenched off.

Almost immediately, a blissed-out Ting stuffed a nipple into his mouth to replace her. She squeezed the breast, moaning, and he felt and tasted dribbling honey—what tasted like pure, sweet sugar—poured into his mouth. She panted as he slurped.

But he wasn’t cumming.

And then, hissed the voice, Bezzy’s eyes gleaming cruelly, we’ll ask you if you wanna be a beembo! She gave him a fond, almost motherly peck on the cheek. And you’ll say yes, just like you wanna right now, ’cause you’re a GOOD BIMBO. They always say yes. You’ll say yes, won’t you? Won’t you? She batted her eyes at him.

“Yes,” he slurred, the pleasure practically crushing his tiny, submissive mind. But he heard a needy growl from above, and quickly resumed lapping at Ting’s oozing breast, feeling the honey dribbling into him.

Turning him into a dumb, horny beembo.

Recognizing this, he slurped and suckled even harder.

Bezzy smirked. And then... you will cum for the last time in your life.

He moaned, filled with bliss at the thought.

You’ll be such a good beembo after that! Bezzy was panting. Senya realized she was being edged by the sixth beembo, even as her fingers were put to work pleasuring her mistresses. They’ll fuck us so much. Make us fuck them. And we’ll always feel like happy, horny, lust-stupid little beembos. But we’ll never, ever cum. We will lie in their arms and beg, and love their laughter at their stupid little King and Queen.

Because that’s what good beembo royals do.

It sounded awful. It sounded like hell. Senya whimpered and nodded and begged without words for it to happen now.

The golden compound eyes crinkled in amusement And we’ll help them lure more sweet little thing like us! More royals. More toys. Because you. Are. A. Good. Beembo.

The breast slipped from his mouth. Senya stared mindlessly around at the six beembos, honey dribbling from his lips, his cock throbbing in desperate arousal, immersed in the bouncing pussy of one of the gorgeous, wicked temptresses who would break him.

“I am a good beembo,” he cried.

And they giggled. For they had already known this.

And it was at that moment that everything went black.

“You can’t do it.”

“Oh, yes, I can. I already sent him up there! He’s screwed!”

“You could get him down.”

“Nuh-uh. Couldn’t. Don’t want to.”

“You’re so full of shit!”

“Ora, don’t be so—”

“You’re so full of shit, too!”

“Ora.”

“You fairies have to be kidding me! He’s in the way. I’m getting rid of a threat. This is what has to happen.”

“We agreed to show him. No tricks. Nothing funny. What the hell is this?”

“He’s enthralled to the sprites now. Nothing I can do.”

“Don’t bullshit us, Valina!”

“I made up my mind!”

“Which one? The ‘Kitten’ mind? The ‘Valina’ mind? Or the mind of the sadistic fey rapist he probably thinks you are?”

“You have he nerve to say that to me?”

“Valina! Ora! You two walk this back!

“Walk what back? I speak truth, Val. She’s—”

“Ora, shut up.”

“Ha!”

“Valina, shut up, too.”

“Ha.”

“Ugh. Okay, catgirl, I want you to think really carefully right now, ’cause we have a pretty dang limited timeframe. We had plans for the ‘Master’. Better plans than just feeding him to the holstaur or the frikking beembos. So... do you really want this instead? Is this really how we’re gonna do it?”

Senya’s eyes opened.

He lay on his back in the grass, right next to a wooden door. He was covered in honey and beembo juices. They were hard to tell apart, and they all made him tingle unbearably.

A rough, familiar tongue was busily cleaning him off. He sat up in alarm, his mind spinning. “V-Valina—”

Valina looked up at him, her tongue sticking out partway along his belly. Then she resumed licking. Senya’s eyes widened. That... oh, that tickled.

He started to giggle. He clutched his sides, giggling uncontrollably as the catgirl tenderly licked him clean. She did not slow in her attentions with the rough tongue. Part of him wanted to shove her off, but before he knew it, he was lying back on the ground, overcome by the dedicated licking.

It took close to a half-hour.

When the catgirl reached his cock, she paused, then took his head between her lips and gently sucked on it until he came in her mouth. The pleasure was sweet and brief—a far cry from the overwhelming tidal waves he had grown almost accustomed to. She swallowed it all down, eyelashes fluttering slightly.

Then, her work complete, she offered a hand and helped him to his feet. He stared at her. She seemed a mix between cross and uncertain.

He swallowed. He still felt a bit tingly, but the removal of the honey had helped with most of it—certainly in removing the orgasm block. “Wh... why...”

“Because it’s not who I am,” the catgirl said. “Apparently.” She glanced up, scowling, at the clover tree. Senya barely stopped himself from following her gaze. “Say what you will about Miss Scarlet, but she treats her pets well. It would’ve been a better fate than that.”

He blinked. “I... I still didn’t want it.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “That never seems to really matter.” He stared at her. She rubbed her tail, avoiding his gaze. “At least... not usually. You’re slightly better than the rest.”

“O-oh.”

Her ears flattened. “That’s not worth much.”

He looked back towards the farmhouse. Towards the scarecrow lights. Then towards the door to the Thriae cottage. “Did you actually bring me here to show me anything?”

Her lips quirked slightly.

“Apparently.”

Valina had untied Senya’s hands, which now, he finally noticed, felt a little raw from the tightness of the ribbon. How hadn’t he noticed earlier?

He was tired, of course. But that wasn’t all of it. Senya bit his lip. He wasn’t sure he wanted to think too hard about why he had gone along with everything Valina told him. Why he was still going along with her now.

Had he lost? She’d clearly had second thoughts, but... was that it? It had felt like an ending. It had felt like his last struggle, and it really had been pretty pitiful. Senya bit his lip, remembering. If he was always going to need a fey to save him like that, how could he ever hope to be this Ranch’s Master?

It had felt like Senya had lost. So why was he still walking around, relatively clear-headed?

It hadn’t been a rescue. Senya was certain of that. It had been a reprieve. A mercy. Valina probably still planned to betray him. Just not like that. The catgirl had some standards, evidently. But any thought of her having actually given up on breaking him felt brittle in Senya’s mind. She had broken him, and that was the fact of it—the question wasn’t whether he would break, but when she would will it, and they both knew that now. She could do away with him right now if she willed it—just spin him around and give him a little nudge back towards the beembos who had infected his dreams so perfectly.

So with this little epiphany under his belt, Senya had to wonder... Why was he still following her right into the lair of the Thriae?

“Be very quiet,” Valina hissed, her ears flattened. The door slid open as though freshly-greased.

Inside, Senya heard wet sounds. His heart fluttered, and the same sense of deja vu that had gripped his mind ever since he’d arrived here was fluttering like a songbird in a small cage. He heard dripping sounds. The sounds of pouring honey. Squelching sounds. Gulping and slurping sounds.

And then, as he stepped past the threshold, it suddenly hit him.

I have been here before.

He gasped, falling back against the wall. The memories whirled through him like a dust devil, blinding him, dazzling him. He tasted sweet mead on his tongue. Felt the softness of the chair, the sweetness of the lips on his cock, the whispers in his ear...

It all just... poured into him. He clutched his eyes, whimpering as quietly as he could, struggling with all his might for control.

They had taken him before. Fucked his brains out. Filled him. Oh, fuck, they’d filled him. He... he had begged for more... they had...

“Master.”

Senya looked up. He felt sharp claws digging into his shoulder. Valina gripped it tightly, glaring down at him.

“Now is not the time,” the catgirl hissed, dark hair falling down to shade her already gloom-cast face. “Not the time, damn it!”

She sounded like she was talking to herself more than anything. Or a force neither of them could see.

Senya swallowed, tasting the spicy mead trickling down his throat. “I... I...”

But the memories were already receding. Whatever magic had momentarily weakened was reasserting itself, driving the memories back, deep, deep down. Bobbin’s magic ripped into his consciousness until he could barely remember where he was for a second.

He blinked. “I... I remembered,” he whispered, though he had no idea what. “Something made me forget!”

The catgirl didn’t seem particularly interested, once it was confirmed he was back to normal. She just shrugged. “That has happened a lot this last couple months,” she said, helping him to his feet.

“Months?”

“I think.” The catgirl chuckled. “Time is hard for fey to care about, Master. Now, come on. You wanted to see something interesting, yes?”

Senya followed Valina as they made their way through the cottage. They didn’t have to go far. When she came to the corner, she held up a hand, took his, and gently led him to the edge of the living room alongside her.

Sylvia, Lala and Lata, the buxom blonde beauties who oozed raw sex appeal and Thriae mead in equal measure, were gathered around that same old comfy armchair. And lying back in it was a young woman.

At first, Senya barely recognized her as human.

She was absolutely covered in honey. Drowning in it. Her mouth was wide open, and she was gasping, gulping, and slurping as Sylvia, humming, spooned glob after glob from a great big pot onto her happily receiving tongue.

The mead within was thinner than the normal honey, but still very viscous, and it steamed slightly in the chilly air. Mead. Proper, distilled Thriae mead, with twice the potency. And she was practically drowning in it.

Her straight black hair was a mess. Her dark eyes were gleaming gold, totally immersed in the Thriae’s power. Senya swallowed, recognizing the look of someone in a state of at least Second-Stage Addiction.

Her hands and feet were bound fast and apart, exposing her whole body as Lala and Lata mercilessly toyed with her, Lala thrusting several fingers in as Lata just rubbed the honey against the captive’s breasts.

Senya stood aghast. His mouth hung open. His heart was beating rapidly, and he felt a strange swelling as he looked at the honey. That glorious, delectable bounty... he wanted to dive into it, prostrate himself before them...

He shook himself out of it.

“Why are they doing this?” he whispered to Valina. “She... she’s gonna turn into a honey drone if they keep this up!”

“That’s the plan, I am sure.”

“But why? I mean—who is she?”

The catgirl shrugged. “Don’t know where she came from. A local, maybe. Not a Crow.”

“How can you be su...” Senya broke off abruptly as the Thriae paused. They looked up, eyes gleaming in the dim light—like hyenas after dusk.

He and Valina ducked back behind the corner and waited, trying not to breathe too heavily.

Luckily, the Thriae were voracious in this state, and quickly returned to their captive’s feast when she started to whine for it to resume.

“I’m sure,” the catgirl hissed, “because she’s...” She paused, and Senya thought he saw her eyes glance down towards her bell. She bit her lip as the prisoner’s moans hit a new octave—she was cumming, and the Thriae were giggling and cooing, mocking her ‘easiness’. “I just know, okay?”

Senya bit his lip. He leaned back around, staring at the hapless human woman. Sylvia cackled wickedly, readying a particularly full spoonful of mead for her eager victim.

And then someone said, in a loud, clear voice, “Stop it!”

The Thriae stopped. He froze. Valina stared at him with wide, horrified eyes.

Oh. Had he said that?

He had just said that out loud.

The words hung in the air, thick as molasses. He found himself staring directly into the eyes of the three wasp-wasited fey.

Lata slowly rose to her bare feet, a sly smile crossing her bee-stung lips as she sauntered around the couches towards them. “Well, well, well,” she breathed, staring at Senya and Valina in unconcealed glee. “Gosh, Master, it sure was nice of you to stop by!”

“And to bring a friend!” sang Lata, and Senya jumped, realizing she had somehow made it to the kitchen without him noticing and was now swaying her hips towards them. She held in her hand a small ceramic mug.

Senya’s mouth was watering. He took a step back and bumped into Valina, who had totally frozen in place.

He glanced back at her. The catgirl was drooling, eyes shimmering with a strange look of awe.

“Valina!” he hissed. “What are you...”

“Ooh...” The little coo that escaped Valina was... not Valina. It was Kitten. The catgirl’s fingers were slipping down between her legs as she stared at the two golden-haired temptresses. “Kitty... Kitty likes...”

“Teehee!” Senya spun, realizing that Lala and Lata were fast closing the distance. They exchanged delighted looks as they advanced. Lala was the one speaking. “Gosh, like, we love our Kitten.”

“The last Master,” Lata purred, “liked to leave her with us and order us not to feed her any honey.”

“Oh,” moaned Lala, “the fun we had!”

“She’s already Stage One anyways,” Lata said, smirking. Senya gasped as he felt her fingers stroking his dick, and realized they were already right in front of them. He had been lost in their gleaming golden eyes, and the swaying of their hourglass figures. “Eating is faster, but... well, there are other ways to get addicted.” Her eyes glittered.

Senya’s mouth was very, very dry. He bit his lip. “I...”

“But there’s no orders now, are there?” Lata cooed sadly, reaching up and stroking Senya’s cheek. Senya whimpered, finding himself leaning into her touch. “No... Masters.” She pouted. “No resisting.” Her eyes shone like twin suns.

“No resisting,” Senya heard himself say. His voice was dreamlike. Small. Weak.

“Mm.” Lala shook her head with a smile, reaching up to caress his other cheek. Senya’s face was held captive between the two Thriae’s slender fingers. “Only obedience.”

“Obedience...” He heard Kitten echoing his words, and that only made him harder, only made the feeling of submission more... inevitable.

Oh, this was bad. He smiled vacantly as Lata slipped her finger into his mouth and let him suckle the honey from her fingers, one after the other.

They were gonna fuck him and Valina all night. He’d probably be even more addicted by morning. Oh, how embarrassing. He sighed happily as Lala’s fingers slowly tickled along his erect cock.

And poor Valina, too. He giggled and leaned closer as Lata teased him, pulling her hand further and further towards her pursed lips, ready to seal his fate with his lips on hers.

But then he caught a glimpse of the chair.

The strange woman still lay there, panting, her tongue sticking out. She was whining softly, pleading wordlessly for more.

But Sylvia wasn’t doing anything. The nubile blonde beauty sat there atop the chair, one leg on either side of the captive, gripping the pot, ready to fill her plaything with mead until she burst.

But she wasn’t... doing anything. Just frowning. She looked slightly puzzled, actually.

And then Senya realized.

She was following his order. He still had some control!

His eyes widened. Lata’s lips were inches away from his own as he sucked her last sticky finger clean.

Somehow, he pulled back. He was gasping as his lips slid off the Thriae’s finger, and Lata blinked, eyebrows arching.

“N-no,” he gasped, trying once again to step back. Kitten, again, blocked his path. The catgirl was halfway to kneeling on the ground, stroking herself with increasing desperation. “Stop!”

Lata flinched. She seemed momentarily put out, and he felt a surge of hope.

But the surprise soon faded, replaced with an easy, oozing smile. “Aw! Our little boytoy Master thinks he can still resist us!” She giggled.

“Ooooh!” Lala giggled, too. Senya’s eyes fluttered at the dominant cadences of their bubbly laughter. “I love this part.”

“That’s right,” Lata purred. She leaned in after Senya, who realized he was backed up against a fast-collapsing catgirl, unable to lean away. But she didn’t force the kiss. Either she wasn’t able to, or she wanted to force him to give in first. “We, like, love the part where they get the second wind.”

“That’s right!” Senya moaned as he felt Lala’s index finger gently rubbing along his tip of his cock. “Like, first they fight, and we break them. And then they try to fight again! And then...” She giggled, stroking again. “We break them again!”

“There’s always one last struggle,” Lata cooed, lowering her head slightly to smile coyly up at him, eyelashes fluttering. “One last push for the surface.”

“Before you sink,” Lala moaned, and she was on her knees, stroking his cock with two fingers. “Sink sink sink, and it feels so good.”

Senya was trembling. Lata’s lips were inches from his, and he knew all he had to do was lean in, or worse still—oh, so much better still—beg for her to kiss him, and honey would flood him, and he could give in. Completely. Submit.

But... if he did that, what would happen to the woman in the armchair?

Could he do it? Surely he... surely he at least ought to put up a fight, he reasoned limply to himself.

Lala kept stroking him, not so much building him as teasing him, promising him the sorts of pleasures he knew they would gleefully grant him. “Sink down, sweetie,” she sang, her head leaning in, and he felt her hot breath on the tip of his cock. “Oh my gosh, you’re already leaking!”

Senya’s heart sank, recognizing that particular note of dulcet delight in her voice. He was starting to leak precum, and now Lala would lick him, just to tease him, and just the slightest touch of her honeyed tongue on his cock would break him like...

“Stop,” he whispered, shuddering with the effort it expended. It was like pushing a boulder up a hill with just his chest. “D-don’t lick it.”

Lata pouted. Her eyes batted, inches from his own, filling his whole world with gold. He still felt Lala’s breath, but she did not lick. “We’d never do anything, like, you didn’t want, stud,” Lata said slyly, licking her lips. The word made Senya’s heart throb. He heard Kitten whimpering behind him, and knew she had collapsed to the ground. She was lying in the fetal position, stroking like mad. Soon, she would be mewing. An irresistible target for the Thriae.

He could run. She wasn’t blocking him anymore—hell, she would probably delay them!

Lata cocked her head slightly, arching her eyebrows. It was as though she read his mind. Down below, he head Lala sighing softly, longingly.

He couldn’t run. He... he had to save the woman. Save Kitten.

That was why.

Right?

Hesitantly, he opened his mouth to speak, but Lata cut him off with a loud titter as she appeared to recognize what choice he’d made. “But I think,” she said, reaching up and tweaking his nipple gently, causing him to gasp, “you want us to fuck your tiny little brains out, huh?”

“Unh.” Senya choked back an agreement. All they needed was his permission. All they needed was his submission. And he wanted to give it so badly. He knew what they would do to him if he gave it. His cock twitched at the thought.

And it bumped Lala’s lips.

A hoarse whine escaped him, just as a squeak of surprise escaped Lala. And then the Thriae were giggling like mad.

“Looks like I was right!” Lata said happily, batting her eyelashes. Senya’s world was swimming. The air here smelled so strongly of honey, and this close to Lata... gods, these two smelled amazing.

“He’s gonna break,” Lala cooed, audibly licking her lips, “and we’re gonna make him cum, and cum, and cum...”

“Cum,” Lata whispered, her eyes glimmering with arousal that made Senya’s knees rock together. “Can you say that, sweetie? You wanna cum, don’t you?” Her eyes were heavy-lidded as she gazed into him. He felt her will, her power, her raw sexuality pressing in on him, filling him... “You, like, wanna cum for me, honey?”

Have to fight. Have to resist. Have to save her. Have to resist!

But... oh, I just want to...

“Stop,” Senya croaked. “Stop it!”

There was a pause.

Lata pouted, and took a step back. “Mm.”

“Does our little honeyslut want a suckle?” Lala purred from down below, heedless of Lata’s hesitance. She reached forward and continued to gently stroke Senya along. Senya felt himself sinking, deeper and deeper. He was so tired from the ‘second wind’, and now he just wanted to... sink... “Or maybe, gosh, a li’l tickle?” Her fingers grazed over his cock head. Senya let out a giggly whimper. “Ooh, he does!”

“Does he, now?” Lata asked, eyebrow arching.

Senya struggled in vain to contain his little moans. He was still so sensitive from the beembos!

“Yes, he does!” Lala exclaimed, stroking him faster between those two honey-slick fingers. “And all he has to do—as he’s sinking, sinking, down, down, down...”

“N-no...”

“Is... oh, he just has to...”

“Stop! N-no more! No more! No more! L-leave me and that woman alone!”

Lala paused.

Her hand lifted from his cock.

He looked down at her. She looked up at him sulkily, her lower lip stuck out in a tremendous pout. “Our little honey slave slut-Master isn’t in the mood tonight, huh?”

Senya almost collapsed at her husky tone. He let out a strangled whimper, stumbling backwards—and nearly tripping over Valina. He looked down at the catgirl, who was still moaning and stroking herself, mewing helplessly, and grabbed her by one of the arms she was using to stroke herself. “Kitten, co—” He stopped himself just in time, realizing just what that would do. “Follow me!”

Kitten looked up at him, her eyes glazed, and meekly took his hand and crawled after him. He led her as fast as the two of them could go.

“Oh, Maaaster,” he heard Lata sigh, and he heard wet sounds. He started ahead at the door, panting. He could smell the honey.

“Be a good boy,” Lala moaned, and he heard her stroking herself as well.

Senya stared ahead at the door, tugging Kitten desperately along. She was going so slowly, whimpering every time her thighs rubbed against one another. Her tail was between her legs. She was in her pure submissive state right now, and she would do whatever he wanted, but Senya knew what he wanted right now, and he couldn’t let himself even think about it.

He breathed in deeply, inhaling the sweet scent, and felt his mind sinking deeper and deeper into the fog...

“Doesn’t our stud want his yummy honey?” they called together, giggling.

Senya’s mind was settling into the golden haze as he grasped the doorknob. He was going to make it. He was... he was...

He was stroking himself...

“Just give us the order!”

“Be a good stud!”

His mind was crumbling. Melting. Dissolving into goo,.

“Like, we’ll fuck your silly little brains out, sweetie!”

His mouth was watering. His brain was practically pulsating with the insistent desire to turn around. Just look. Just look at them. They’ll be so sexy... so sweet... just turn around, and nobody can blame you for what comes after...

Comes...

“Heehee!”

“Heeheehee!”

Senya slammed the door shut behind him.

He immediately collapsed in the grass, eyes wide, whimpering and moaning as he madly pumped himself. Everything felt so fuzzy and sweet. His brain was mush. Needed pleasure. Needed to cum. Needed... needed.

It was in that state that he saw Kitten appear above him, still stroking her clit with one hand as she crawled over his body. In the moonlight, her green eyes glinted with a neediness to match his own.

“Master needs me?” she whispered, voice trembling.

He stared into the catgirl’s eyes, and knew they were both as good as lost right now.

Might as well get lost in each other.

“M-Master needs you!” he moaned.

The catgirl’s ears perked up. Audibly purring, Kitten slowly descended onto his cock. She started to lick it. Then she started gently kissing it, making it throb and twitch like mad.

Then she took it into her warm, wet mouth.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Cum. Cum! Cum!

And they both happily obeyed.

Many times over.

Senya’s dreams were a whirlwind of teasing honeybee-bottomed bimbos, rough-tongued catgirls, honey-drenched Thriae, and adoring puppy sprites. It was the latter that he eventually woke up within, immersed in their arms. Their tongues eased him, settled his troubled thoughts, kept him in a happy state of constant bliss. He came again and again to their steadfast lapping, lost in lusty, stupid love.

Jerrod was the one to wake him, and he smiled down at Senya as he dragged his limp, exhausted body from the sprites’ arms. “C’mon, boss. That’s enough fun for the night.”

“Mm...” Senya clung to the brawny stockman, still lost in lusty trance as Jerrod carried him down the stairs.

It was only around the arrival at the dining table that his wakefulness started to drift back to him. Jerrod set him down, and Senya straightened slightly, his eyes still half-closed. He smelled eggs, bacon, sausage, and maple syrup. Unconsciously, he licked his lips.

Senya had asked Bobbin about their stores of meat once. The meat wasn’t from the Ranch (thank heavens), but from feral pigs in the area. He was pretty sure it was a similar story with the eggs. He wasn’t sure about the syrup.

The smell of the tea helped to wake him up a little more, out of surprise as much as anything else. He blinked at the steaming mug. “No milk today?” he asked. “And... no fruit?”

“Nah.” Jerrod grinned. “That’s for Ranch work, that stuff is.”

“Oh.” Senya blinked at the waffles, then reached for his fork. “So is today... not Ranch work?”

A soft, slender hand placed it in his palm. He looked up and found himself staring deep into the emerald eyes of Valina.

The catgirl was sitting on the floor next to his chair, smiling up at him with bright excitement. Her belled collar was silent, and she was as naked and docile as ever. She giggled, taking her hand away and brushing back her hair. She held the stare a bit too long, though.

“Nah, nah,” Jerrod said, chuckling as he came back with a plate laden with meat. “Today, Master? It’s Market Day.”

The packing proceeded quite swiftly, really. Master seemed confused. Of course he was. He wanted to know where Bobbin was, but the explanation only seemed to partially satisfy him.

The hob was, of course, busy dealing with the fleece sprites, but Valina was sure there was another reason Bobbin didn’t feel like talking to Master today. The hob could be very sensitive, and yesterday’s little spat had shaken her. And reminded her how hard it was to keep even the most well-intentioned of secrets from her dear little Master.

Luckily, Valina was there to keep his mind off of such exhausting worries. She accompanied him as he and Jerrod loaded the cart, and licked him to babbling bliss whenever he got too talkative or slowed things down. Jerrod gave her a few pets on the head for that, and she beamed up at him innocently. She had been a very good girl the last couple days—as far as the stockman knew.

She waved goodbye as the cart drove off. The catgirl’s eyes glinted.

Senya would be one of the kindest Masters she’d ever had, probably. He would spoil her rotten. The adorable boytoy loved to make her cum, and praised her more generously than any other Master she’d known. She could be a very happy pet for him. The Kitten half of her was very tempted by that vision of placidity.

But Valina had other plans.

“Master has enjoyed his sweet things.” The catgirl giggled, leaning back against the rough wall. “I do not think even the second son—the one with the whorelip, you remember?—indulged so much. And so dangerously.” She gave a husky little growl.

“Milk and honey. Prisoner fruit. Alraune nectar. Oh... and has dear little Bobbi really been leaving him so long with the puppies?”

“Oh, yes.” Valina grinned. “She has to. It’s the only way to keep him out of trouble.”

Mommy gave a slow, leisurely smile, leaning back in her chair and gently tugging at her nipples. The holstaur let out a happy sigh. “Oh... I had wondered how that darling boy managed to resist me, even with fairy help. The puppies. Should we worry about them, do you think?”

Valina let out a short laugh. “That’s why it is best to get him outside the house. It was very silly of Valina to seek him inside, so close to their hearing.”

Mommy licked her lips. “He would have been finished all the same in my arms. Or the honeyed handmaidens’, even.”

“The fairies interfered.” Valina gritted her sharp teeth. “Little flitterers have meddlesome minds. Do they even know how hard it was to slip that much pure stuff into his glass without the bell giving me away? Poor Kitten could barely stop herself from drinking it down on the spot, too. All for nothing.”

“Yes, I do think Tricin could do more to manage her little flock.” Mommy sighed, stretching slightly. “But... well, that’s why we’re using these new measures. The fairies can’t do anything to help him then.” She pouted, one eyebrow arching. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” Valina admitted. “Scarlet’s plan was best. He’ll be ours soon enough. And then...” Her heart fluttered slightly, and she felt a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Then we can really make some changes around here.”

“Wonderful. I’m so glad you’re happy, Kitten.” Mommy gave a gentle smirk.

“Oh, yes.” Valina rubbed her neck, feeling that hated collar, hearing its hateful jingle. “Soon, nobody can tell me what to do.”

“Of course not,” Mommy cooed.

“We’ll run things. I’ll be free. In control.”

“You’ll be able to do whatever you want, Kitten,” Mommy purred, pinching a nipple until a bit of milk came dripping out.

Valina licked her lips.

“And...” The holstaur’s voice was sultry and sweet as she spread her arms wide, letting her tremendous breasts bounce back down, still oozing slightly. “... does my little Kitten want some milk?” she asked sweetly, eyelashes fluttering.

Kitten blinked. Her eyelashes fluttered in time with Mommy’s. Her head swam, and it was like a switch had come over her mind. She only had a moment to feel confused before that confusion melted into warm, wet obedience.

She fell to her knees and crawled up to Mommy, staring up at her with wide eyes. “Mommy?” she whimpered. “Kitten is... is thirsty!”

“Are you really?” Mommy asked, her pale eyebrows arching with ill-concealed delight.

“Yes!” Kitten mewled, rubbing between her legs with one hand. “Kitten is... is...” She let out a mew, unable to finish the sentence.

The holstaur beamed, and she reached down to help the mewing catgirl into her lap. “Then come to Mommy,” she cooed in the catgirl’s ear, as the catgirl’s trembling lips found a nipple and began a slow, blissful suckling.

The lust sprites didn’t mind being caged, as Senya understood it. These sorts of arrangements were common—though usually a bit more on the give-and-take side, the practice of “catching” lust sprites for use in dens was frequently employed even in rural areas. It was a fair arrangement: The lust sprites got lots of mortals to delight in, and the mortal “owners” got to sell use of the sprite pits to anyone with an itch to scratch. The lust sprites usually didn’t mind, as long as they weren’t kept away from new playthings for too long.

And as it turned out, when they were, they really liked to play with their captors.

The cart he and Jerrod rode in—the cart Senya had come to the Ranch in, in fact—was laden with many goods from the Ambrosia Ranch. Jars filled with Thriae honey and sealed kegs of Thriae mead. Bottles of deep red wine from Scarlet’s grapefields. Buckets of fresh cranberries. Canned prisoner fruit—nothing fresh, oddly enough. Boxes of hazelnuts. A small wooden crate marked simply, “Eggs” (the quotations made him a bit uneasy). Several full jugs of holstaur milk. A basket full of fresh fruit—pears, apples and stranger fruit still, which made Senya wonder where this orchard was that he had missed. And a small glass flask of maple syrup.

All-in-all, it was a true bounty for any wealthy pleasureseeker. Holstaur milk alone was a priceless beverage, and Thriae honey was so blatantly illegal, just carrying it was literally grounds for execution in many Western Plains baronies. This was a cart full of fey aphrodisiacs worth a small fortune.

And then there were the five lust sprites locked in the back of the cat. The lust sprites that had been loudly making love since before the cart had left the Ranch.

They weren’t puppy sprites. The theme for this pack, Senya was pretty sure, was ‘oily wrestlers’, and they had been loudly smacking and slipping against one another for a while now. Each horned fey was quite fit and muscular, ideal for tackling their ‘victims’, but they still shared the typically nubile, absurdly sexual—and flexible—bodies that every lust sprite was known for.

And they had been channeling their lust auras full-force into the front seat of the cart for the last few hours. After hours of this intense, forced arousal, Senya was about ready to blow. Jerrod, though next to him, was totally unaffected. His amulet, of course.

Senya squirmed in his seat, rubbing through his pants as subtly as he could manage. “A-are you sure I can’t—“

“Yup.” Jerrod gave a slight chuckle, looking over at his sweating, lip-biting boss with sympathy. “I know, Master. We’ll be in town soon enough. But you can’t fuck ’em.”

“B-but...” Senya’s cock was practically crying out for mercy. This sort of denial was unbearable, especially after weeks of being practically spoiled on pleasure back at the Ranch. It was even worse that he had to sit next to Jerrod, who was only wearing a simple brown vest. Senya wanted to jump into the stockman’s muscular arms almost as he wanted to jump into the back of the cart.

“The lust sprites need to be primed. That means they can’t have been with a mortal for the last few hours. Makes ’em worth more, trust me.” Jerrod shrugged. “We handled a lot of lust sprites and jelly maids back in the days.”

Senya, in his ragged state, took a moment to register that Jerrod was talking about his days as a pirate. He swallowed, shifting in his seat, feeling his cock straining desperately against his trousers. “Can we... can we please stop the—”

“Sure.” Jerrod tugged on the reins, bringing the cart to a slow halt. “Go make with the touches. Just don’t go far.”

For the fourth time that day, Senya hopped off the cart and shuffled into the bushes. He took Jerrod’s advice, remembering how dangerous these bamboo forests could be, but he at least tried to put some visual distance between the two of them.

He was still close enough to feel the lust sprites’ blazing aura, though, and he was panting with desire as he stroked himself. After so many weeks in the Ranch’s care, it almost felt alien to have to rely on his own hands. The jolts of pleasure that coursed through him were nothing compared to lying with the fey.

And especially to submitting to them.

He bit his lip as thoughts of Mommy’s breasts and Kitten’s teasing tongue brought him to a whimpering orgasm. Pleasure sparkled through him like fine droplets of rain during a drought, fleeting, almost mocking. He stood there, continuing to stroke, trying to contain his faint whines.

He heard a distant branch snap. His eyes shot open.

It took him a moment to recognize the source. He squinted. Off in the distance, he could just make out a dark-skinned man in a pale cloak stopping next to a particularly dense clump of bamboo and undo his trousers.

The man relieved himself there of a much baser need, whistling softly as he gazed up into the branches. He seemed completely oblivious to Senya’s presence.

The man was unarmed, but Senya took no chances. He took a deep breath to steady himself, redid his trousers, and returned to the furnace of lust to brave a few more hours of torment.

Market Day was a surprisingly busy affair in the small village. Senya was astounded at just how many merchants had arrived—many all the way from the Lacratian continent! A pair of dopterines walked by, their antennae twitching rapidly as they chattered in their native tongue. A goblin maid lounged behind a food cart, shooting passersby—especially men—coy smiles and lewd winks.

Every now and then, a young man would stop at her stall and start talking to her. After testing some free samples, he would be invited to the back of her cart to make a purchase. Each time, he would accept.

Three men had vanished into the goblin maid’s cart so far today, and Senya had been here for scarcely an hour.

Upon arrival, it had quickly become apparent that they were the primary attraction of this bustling market. Wealthy men and women—most of whom, Senya couldn’t help but notice, humans and elves from Lacra—clustered around the stall like fruit flies to purchase tiny vials of honey, little jars of prisoner fruit jam. It was almost too much for Senya to keep up with, though with the lust sprites secured in a distant tent, at least he didn’t have their power driving his attention span into mush.

Their customers passed over in exchange not money, but magic. Senya politely accepted all sorts of payment Jerrod told him was sufficient—scrolls and alchemical potions, enchanted gemstones, magic beans. A few offered twisted items of silver. Hypnotic tools for fey. That made Senya feel a little queasy, but they were enough to buy two whole “Eggs” (whatever those were).

A tall, slender elf with piercing silver eyes actually offered a blessed silver arrow. This elicited a great deal of excitement in the stall, and Jerrod was quick to take over the haggling process. In the end, she walked away with an entire keg’s worth of Thriae honey and the bottle of syrup in exchange.

Senya wasn’t much of a salesperson, but as a carpenter, he knew how to haggle, and he knew enough from his sister to keep up in conversations about magic. And he knew enough to know that he had never seen this much concentrated wealth before in his life.

The lust sprites commanded some of the highest prices, and nobody even tried to purchase them until late afternoon, when many of the other stall owners were packing up. The goblin maid was gone, her men acquired for... whatever purpose she had for them.

It was just Senya and Jerrod, a few food stalls, a one-eyed skittergoblin who appeared to be selling gancanagh pipes—and the angry glares of the locals. Come to think of it, Senya wasn’t sure a single townsperson had even visited the marketplace, much less tried to buy anything.

It felt a little strange.

“What breed?” Senya jumped, whirling to see a very tall, very pale man with long dark hair and a fine felt bowler. It took him a moment to recognize the ghoulish figure, and his eyes widened—it was Great-Uncle Yvun’s lawyer!

The lawyer gave no indication he recognized Senya. He just rapped on the stall with his cane. “What breed?” he repeated.

“Um...” Senya’s mouth was dry. “You mean the lust sprites?”

“Have you any other girls for sale?” The lawyer arched an eyebrow.

Senya stuck his tongue into his cheek. “... no?”

“Then of course I mean the lust sprites. Keep up boy.” The lawyer’s eyes narrowed. “What breed?”

Senya cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. The lawyer’s stare made him feel like he had bugs crawling over his skin. “They’re, um... very oily. And... gropey. Muscular.”

“Mm.” The lawyer reached into his pocket and drew out a very thin card. His fingers pressed against the sides, and before Senya’s eyes, the card started to ‘unfold’. It grew larger and larger from his spidery fingers’ rapid efforts, drawing it further and further out until it was roughly the size of a normal sheet of paper. Senya realized he was using some sort of highly precise illusion magic. “Yes. I have orders for ‘puppy’ lust sprites, ‘dumb blonde’ lust sprites, ‘succubus’ lust sprites...” He looked up eyes narrowed. “They speak good Western? Like you and I?”

“I suppose so.” Senya bit his lip, uncertain what the lawyer meant. “I mean, they’re lust sprites, they’re pretty dumb.”

“Yes, yes.” The man was clearly getting impatient. “But they do not speak with the accent. ‘Eastern’ sprites are in very high demand in Nyaska right now. The exoticism, you see. Many enjoy a ‘stupid Easterner’, you see? Very high demand.” He flicked a hand, a quill appearing with it, and he made a quick jot. “But if they don’t speak with the accent, it scarcely matters. That breed is more commonly found by the borders, anyway. Hm.” He gnawed on the quill, then made a note. “Demand for ‘slippery’ lust sprites isn’t terribly strong, but there is a buyer who’ll accept those if you haven’t got any ‘Eastern schoolgirl’ sprites. Which you haven’t.”

Senya blanched. “W-what? I beg your pardon?”

The lawyer looked up, and seemed to misinterpret Senya’s shock as confusion. He waved the quill. “You see, they have constructed a sprite pit with a tentacle theme, and the ‘schoolgirl’ is the most desired object for that display. But a slippery lust sprite can have a similar attitude, with appropriate reconditioning. Their clients will settle for either. Do you understand, Mr. Wetherdean?”

“Y-yes?” Senya felt a curdling in his gut, but he tried not to show it. “So you’re... buying for sprite dens.”

The lawyer’s lip quirked upwards. “Your great-uncle provided a very reliable stock, young man. We trust that the selection will be larger next winter.”

“It was a slow season,” Jerrod said, butting into the conversation. “The conditioning process to keep the sprites from, y’know, breaking their hosts’ minds got slowed down by the old Master’s death, so we only had five ready for market.”

“Naturally.” The lawyer gave a brisk nod. “Well, I will take the five. They’re in there?” He gestured to the sealed tent.

“That’s right.”

“Excellent.” The lawyer smiled, and with a flash of his fingers, a small slip of paper fell onto the counter. “That map signals the locations of several nearby fey. Ah, troublemakers, of course. There is a lavender dryad in the hills of particular value, you see.” His smile was ugly. Cold and thin like a knife. He bowed, rapped the counter once more with his cane, and walked over to the tent.

Senya heard him clap, and the tent suddenly surged up into the air, as if lifted by an invisible giant. It took on a teardrop shape—the sprites inside squealed in confusion—and followed as the lawyer walked off.

Senya grimaced. Even that man’s walk was disturbing. His knees rose in sharp and deliberate strides, like a heron hunting for frogs.

Jerrod was whistling, poring over the map with a big grin. “Aw, this is nice. Lavender dryad, sure, sure, but wow. There’s a pearl sprite couple by the coast! That’s good value. And good fucking. I’ve heard stories...”

“Does this...” Senya took a deep breath, and a step away from the stall. “Does anything about this feel... wrong to you?”

Jerrod paused in his examinations, his smile dropping slightly. “Eh? What about? They’re lust sprites, boss. Surely even you’ve visited a sprite den or two.”

“I mean... sure. Of course!” Senya gave an uncertain nod. “But that’s different. I know lust sprites don’t mind the dens. But I mean...” He gestured to the supplies. “We’re just selling what the prisoners make. And we’re selling the prisoners! That... that doesn’t seem like a very prisony thing to do.”

Jerrod turned to face Senya, tucking the map away. “Eh, why not? We’re providing a service. Why shouldn’t we profit a little from it on the side? Helps keep the Ranch afloat.”

A cool wind blew westward, and Jerrod looked up, clearly noting the darkening sky. Senya bit his lip.

He wanted to disagree, but he just couldn’t put his finger on what about it all felt so wrong. He rubbed his eyes, wishing his puppies were here to ease his mind.

Everything about the Ranch felt bad to him. Everything except, ironically, letting the fey enslave him, which felt so good he wished right now that he could just walk up to Brigitte and dive right into her flower. But he couldn’t quite nail down what about it upset him. It just seemed... it seemed...

“It just seems cruel,” he burst out. “We’re just... we’re basically enslaving them! And I mean, yes, they did the same thing to others, but does that make it right? And what we do to make scarecrows...”

“Hey, I don’t like it either.” Jerrod put up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “But Bobbin’s gotta keep the scarecrows coming, or we’re all in trouble. Way of the world.”

“But that doesn’t make it right!”

“Did I say it did? Hey, don’t strawman me.” Jerrod cracked a grin. “Get it?”

“Jerrod!” Senya grabbed the stockman by the shoulders. “This is serious!”

Jerrod laid a hand on Senya’s shoulder and nudged him, gently, away. “Boss, you’re not yourself.”

“No, I’m—“

“You’ve been getting your brains fucked out by half the monsters on that Ranch.” Jerrod gave a sympathetic chuckle. “And you’ve been getting denied by these sprites all day. They’re in your head, master.”

Senya bit his lip. He rubbed his eyes, feeling his cock throbbing.

“You’ve just gotta power through.” Jerrod rubbed Senya’s hair with a rough hand. “Market Day went really well. When we get back, your inheritance will be all-but finalized. That Will will see you’re who you say you are, and you’ll inherit, and then you can regain some control over everything.”

“No, I...” Senya felt dizzy. He sat back down, rubbing his eyes. He was so tired.

Maybe Jerrod was right. Maybe he really wasn’t himself right now. He sure didn’t feel like he was functioning at full capacity.

“Easy does it, Boss.” Jerrod helped Senya back to his feet. “I’ll let you sleep in the back of the cart on the way home.”

“But...” Senya let out a weak, confused sigh. “Okay.”

“You can make sense of it later, Master.” Jerrod patted him on the back as he set him down in the straw cot—still smelling strongly of the slightly sweet oil and juices of the lust sprites who had inhabited it for the last eight hours. Senya felt his cock hardening, and his breaths deepening, as the familiar scents reminded him of those last eight hours. The scents. The sounds. The lust. “In the meantime, try and take your mind off things. Knock if you need me.”

“Mm...” Senya lay back. His mind was already sinking deep. Deep, deep, deep down into dreams.

He was so, so tired.

Valina stood at the edge of the Ranch, just a few feet off from the silver fence, and waited amid the bamboo that grew wild on the Ranch’s outskirts. The catgirl stared into the trees, watching something only a catgirl who had magically enhanced her vision to inhuman levels could comprehend. Tiny glints and slivers of light flashed off the leaves, conveying a finely-crafted code.

The arrangement with the Crows was delicate. Very delicate. The radical natives and the Ranch’s wicked prisoners had the same enemies, but they sought highly distinct outcomes in the conflict to come.

Valina had high hopes that it could all be spun to her advantage. As long as she played her cards right, the more stubborn elements she was working with would end up quite happy to go along with her aims. It just took subtlety. Cleverness. And a glassblower always had plenty of both.

If she spun it just right, those stubborn elements would be too stupid with bliss by the end of it all to make a fuss. That thought made her practically giddy.

“That’s right,” she said to thin air. “Back later this evening.” A pause. A flash. “I know. We won’t need to kill him. We know how to handle his kind.”

A glimmer. The catgirl gave a feral grin. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll be out of the picture. We’ll be ready for you when you get here.”

A sparkle. She frowned. “Not sooner? I thought... fine. We can’t delay, though. … Because it’s all in motion already, that’s why! This is our last chance. If we lose this time, we lose the window, and Senya becomes the next Master. The Will can be cheated, but only as long as he’s a weak-willed little stud for anyone with pretty eyes and a sweet voice. After that...” She let the implication hang there, mostly because she didn’t feel like spelling out just how vulnerable most of the fey would be to their true Master’s orders.

There was a pause. Then, a question.

The catgirl giggled. “Oh, we plan to. Oh, we can’t wait to have fun with our sweet little ‘warden’. Believe me.”

“Kitten?” Valina jumped. Turning, she saw Bobbin making her way through the thicket. She bit her lip, her heart pounding. The hob looked cross. “Kitten, what do you think you’re doing this far outside the house? Did you see something out there?”

“U-um... Bobbi!” Valina tried not to show her guilt as she turned, putting a finger to her lips. “Kitten was just... just looking for...”

Bobbin frowned suspiciously at Valina. “Looking for something? Are there Crows out there?”

“There...” Valina sucked on her finger nervously. “There are, um...”

Bobbin seemed to note the sucking, and clearly misconstrued it. Her head tilted. A smug smile formed. “Oh. Oh. You were looking for your Master, weren’t you?”

“Y-yes.” Kitten—Valina bowed her head, trying not to show her relief at the excuse. Luckily, just the mention of Master, and the repeated use of her pet name, was making her face burn a convincing bright red. “I... Kitten misses her Master. Where is Master, Bobbi?”

“Oh, poor thing.” Bobbin raised one eyebrow. “You’ve really taken to him, haven’t you?” She grinned, advancing. “Perhaps you’d like me to ease some of that burden, Kitten?”

“Nn.” Kitten swallowed, feeling the pet name slowly taking effect. Her pussy was clenching, her chest heaving. She found herself taking a step closer to the sly hob. “So... horny, Bobbi,” she whined, and it wasn’t really an act at all.

“Call me Master,” Bobbin purred. She lunged out and grabbed Kitten close, clutching her against her torso.

“M-Master!” Kitten squeaked, staring at Bobbi with wide, needy eyes. “Oh, Master, please!”

“Do you need something, Kitten?” Bobbin asked, her finger sliding ticklingly down Kitten’s belly and circling around her pussy. “Does my pet pussy need something?”

“Oh, Master...” Valina’s breath was wispy as a breath. Her mind was crumbling under this assault, and the lie was swiftly becoming her only reality. “I... your Kitten needs you!”

“My pussy needs me,” Bobbi cooed, kissing Valina over her neck until Valina was on the verge of mewing. “It’s mine, isn’t it? It’s your Master’s?” Her finger brushed lightly over Valina’s clit.

“Yes,” Kitten whined, trembling in Bobbin’s grasp like a blade of grass in a hurricane. Her heart fluttered with excitement. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Such a good, sweet kitty.” Bobbin stopped kissing Valina and rose to stare into the catgirl’s eyes, tracing one rough finger over the catgirl’s burning cheek. “But that’s not quite what I wanted to hear. What was that, Kitten?”

Kitten shook, clutching Bobbin desperately. Her lips moved independent of her melting mind as those fingers continued to tease her pussy—Bobbi’s pussy, Master’s pussy. “Mew?”

Bobbin grinned. “There she is!”

And her mind turning obedient and pliant once more, Kitten began to mew in helpless lust.

And Bobbin rewarded her as a good Master should.

Senya awoke from dreams of oil and honey to a pair of bright orange eyes staring down at him.

“Good evening, Master!” Bobbin chirped. The hob scratched her soft sideburns, giving him an easy-going smile. “I do hate to wake you when you’re all cute and curled up, but it’s time for dinner.”

Senya blinked, stretching instinctively. He was curled up in a straw cot in the back of the cart. His hair was mussed, and his whole body felt just a little bit sticky.

He shifted his legs slightly, and felt a tackiness between his legs. He groaned. Oh. That was why.

He got to his feet, grimacing at the stickiness in his trousers. Bobbin helped him out of the cart, helpfully undressing him as he went. He felt a little uncomfortable with that, but then she was holding a bright sunset-orange prisoner fruit in front of him, and he passively accepted it and bit into his sweet, juicy flesh. Gods, but he was hungry.

They arrived at the farmhouse door, Bobbin’s arm draped over his shoulder. Senya still felt a bit groggy as they made their way inside.

Jerrod was still unpacking in the dining room, but he looked up and grinned as he saw them enter. “Ah, there he is! Poor boss had a rough time of it, with the sprites’ teasing an’ all.”

“I’m sure he did,” Bobbin said, smirking. She kissed Senya on the cheek, giggling, and led him over to his seat. She was certainly very affectionate tonight, Senya noted—a far cry from yesterday. “You’ll be wanting a full meal, then, Master. Gotta regain all that energy!”

Still feeling quite docile, Senya picked up his fork and started shoveling buttery mashed potatoes into his mouth. He set the prisoner fruit pit aside without a thought.

Bobbin kept talking to him as he ate—just idle small talk, embellished with a few suggestive winks and affectionate compliments—as she took her seat across from him. Jerrod leaned back in his chair to the side, tearing into a fresh turkey.

Slowly, he felt his head clear a little bit. Enough to notice a conspicuous absence.

“Where’s Valina?” he asked.

“Hm?” Bobbin’s eyebrows arched. “Oh, the cat. She’s, um, occupied.” She tilted her head to the side, unable to hide a small coy smile from darting across her lips. “If you want her, I can go get her, Master. I’m sure she’d be quite relieved to see you made it back okay.”

“N-no. That’s fine.” Senya wasn’t sure he wanted to be exposed to Kitten right now. Not after everything that had happened last night.

And as he thought that, his mind finally settled, and he speared a sprig of some sort of tasty green flower as he spoke. “I, um... Bobbin, actually, we need to talk.”

Bobbin blinked. The joviality in the air seemed to chill slightly. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, and eyed Senya with a look of glum trepidation. “I know, Master.”

Her response surprised Senya a little. He was so used to Bobbin dodging questions and evading tough topics, it took him a moment to fully register what she’d said. “You do?”

“Jerrod told me you’ve been... having doubts.” Bobbin bit her lip, taking a sip from her glass. It looked odd to Senya, and it took him a moment to realize why: He had never seen her drink or eat in front of him before. “Honestly, Master, I would just as well leave them until after the Will’s resolution. It’s much safer then.”

“I know.” Senya shifted uneasily, taking a bite of the chicken to steady himself. The chicken was surprisingly salty; Bobbin usually balanced ingredients better than that. “But... I mean, I feel like we need to discuss it sooner.” He took a deep breath. “This is all just... it’s so messed up, Bobbin.”

“Is it?” Bobbin took another long sip of her drink. “We house criminals. Monsters, like that predatory nymph I told you about. Does it really matter what’s done with them after?”

“I... I think it does.” Senya bit his lip, taking another bite of the oversalted chicken. “They’re still people, Bobbin. I mean, sure, fine, lust sprites don’t care what we do, but... the cat? The fairies? The way we treat the prisoners...” He felt his focus hardening on that. “You call them ‘livestock’. Like they’re just farm animals. We can’t just treat them like cattle!”

“They’d treat you like cattle.”

Senya’s fist clenched around the fork. He glared up at the cool-mannered hob, feeling rare anger filling him. “Well, then, they—they should—maybe they should rethink their definitions, because people aren’t cattle, Bobbin! Not even really bad people! And we aren’t—we aren’t like them!”

He rubbed his eyes, feeling wetness there. He hadn’t realized until just now just how heavily this had been weighing on him. Just how confused he had been. He was almost in tears. But finally, it was out there, and whatever came next, at least he could say... “I’m not like them,” he said, louder. “I’m not a—not a—”

He broke off, worried he was going to choke up. His mouth was dry, but he took another bite of the chicken anyways. Chewing gave him an excuse not to talk, to re-gather himself.

Bobbin seemed to be weighing his words. She was... listening, which was unusual.

“I can see you’re getting very emotional about this,” she said, taking a sparing sip. She gestured with her goblet. “You’re a good person, Master. It’s why I like you. I’m just not sure you’re being totally rational here.”

She gazed clearly at him, and in that moment, Senya felt more naked than ever before. He dropped his gaze to his own glass. Swallowing the last of the chicken, he raised it to his lips, but hesitated. “I—Bobbin, I’m not just having a fit. I’ve thought about this a lot!”

Okay, his throat was really starting to hurt. He tipped the glass and drank deeply, closing his eyes, hoping Bobbin would give him a reprieve to gather himself, to restore his confidence.

“I’m sure you have,” Bobbin said, sounding sympathetic. “But Master, you just have a heart too big for your head. You’re in such a state right now.”

“Nn—no,” Senya protested, lowering the glass. He frowned at Bobbin. “This is about—” He swallowed, trying desperately to keep his voice level. “About right and wrong, Bobbi!”

The way she was talking to him... it made him angry. But it also made him unsteady. Self-conscious about his outburst. He was sure he’d thought it through, but the way Bobbin was looking at him... He hated how it made him doubt his own judgment.

Bobbi shook her head, giving a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Master, but... are you sure? With your mind so compromised?”

“I’m not—I’m not—” Senya blinked rapidly. “I’m not c-compromised, Bobbi.” Damn it! Now was not the time to be stammering like a fool!

“You do still seem groggy,” Jerrod piped up, lowering his glass. “And... I mean, Boss, is it any kind of secret that you fancy the cat something fierce?”

Senya turned to Jerrod. The world seemed to blur slightly with the rapid motion, and Senya, momentarily queasy, took another gulp of milk to buy himself some time. His face was burning, and his tongue was leaden. “That’s not... I don’t, um... feel that way about Valina. About Kitten.”

Bobbin and Jerrod exchanged uncertain looks.

Senya bit his lip.

Do I? Senya felt his cheeks glowing brighter still. I mean... she’s good at making me feel good, but... I can’t really have feelings for her, can I? For all his previous worries about ethical issues regarding him and Bobbi, they surely paled to any sort of thought of romance between him and a prisoner. At least he and Bobbin were more-or-less equals—neither of them really controlled the other.

Had he really let himself grow attached to the catgirl who had tried on several occasions to turn his mind into pudding?

It didn’t feel right, but he was so flustered, he didn’t know how to respond. And Bobbin was already moving on without him. “We’ve seen the way you look to her,” the hob said, sighing. “It’s cute, Master. And I know Kitten has her... charms. But I worry she’s growing on you a bit too much. You’re beginning to see things her way.”

“That’s what fey do,” Jerrod said, setting his plate down. “They get in your head. Make you doubt yourself. Make you take their view until you forget who you are.”

“Well...” Senya turned back to Bobbin. Again, his vision blurred slightly. He was feeling just a little bit dizzy, actually. Was he tired? “I mean, she’s... I just... I try to care.” He was talking like a fool, he knew. His mind felt almost slowed down right now. Groggy, just like Jerrod had said.

“I know you do,” Bobbin crooned, getting up from her chair. “And I know how hard it can be, Master. But your mind clearly isn’t in the place to think rationally about her.”

“N-no, it’s not just that. I’m not...”

He trailed off, feeling awfully flustered—even more flustered than he’d been around Scarlet. Was he? Did he? What was he even saying? Bobbin was moving too quickly, speaking too quickly...

“Finish your milk, Master,” the hob said softly. He slowly turned and saw her standing over him, giving a fond smile as a hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed.

A pang of understanding filled his heart as he looked back at the milk. “I... I, um...”

“You just aren’t thinking clearly,” Bobbin cooed, sinking down until she practically melted into his lap. She cupped his chin, smiling indulgently. “I missed you, Master.”

“Um.” Senya was breathing heavily. Bobbin smelled musky from her long day’s work on the farm. Intoxicating, almost. Her lithe, muscular build—and pert ass—in his naked lap were very uncomfortable. Very... bothering. He tried to remember what he’d been worried about. “I... drank...”

“You need to relax,” the hob said, planting a sweet little kiss on his lips. She smiled brightly, then, a second later, followed up with a softer, deeper kiss. “Let me love you,” she breathed.

Senya felt his heart, mind and soul sinking back into that comfortable stupor. He was horny. So, so horny. And Bobbin was so, so, horny. Wasn’t that simple?

“I...” He stared into her bright topaz eyes, biting his lip. “I c-can’t...”

“Shh.” She silenced him with more little kisses, gently wriggling her body in his lap, making his cock swiftly rise. Her fingers wrapped around it, and she planted one last kiss on his cheek and beamed. “Be a good Master and let your fey pleasure you, Senya.”

“Unh... mm...” He struggled only feebly as she kissed him again and again, wearing away his resistance with sheer eagerness as she gently stroked.

He knew he needed to resist, knew she was silencing him once again, cutting the conversation short, but... Oh, fuck... oh, fuck...

Her thumb ran over his glans as precum oozed out, and he moaned. Oh, to hell with it.

He wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss. He could get answers tomorrow.

She kept kissing him, and pumping him, as he fully sank into happy lust. She sped up her strokes, giggling. “My, Master, you grow so fast. Rise so fast. Sink so fast. Don’t worry about holding on to anything, Senya—I have a long night planned for my dear, dear boy.”

He just moaned and clutched at her tighter. She let out a soft, happy sigh. “Oh, such a good boy...”

She kissed him hungrily, tongue surging into his mouth, just as she rose up and impaled herself upon his cock.

They cried out in unison—her in excitement, him in joyous climax. He bucked and shook like a leaf, but she was there to soothe him. Pleasure, so long denied, poured out in a slow, steady orgasm as she kept kissing him, kept bouncing in his lap.

It would get more ferocious, he knew.

She picked him up, still trapped inside her, and lifted him from the chair. He hung suspended in her arms, still thrusting desperately, still lost in pleasure.

“No puppies tonight, Master,” she husked in his ear. “Your little hob needs some playtime, too.”

The mention of the puppies made his brain spark slightly, and he let out a small cry of unease—only to he silenced as she poured the rest of the glass’s sweet, spicy contents down his throat. He nearly choked, but she rubbed his back and helped him swallow, cooing sweet nothings in his ear all the while.

“Not to worry, dear,” she purred, giving his ass a little squeeze as she carried him off to her bedroom. “They won’t go lonely tonight.”

Kitten mewed into her gag, thrashing in her tight, merciless restraints. Tears streamed down her face. Horrid bliss blossomed in her heart.

Tied spreadeagled on Master’s bed, the catgirl was totally, wonderfully helpless against the puppies’ delightful depredations.

They pumped their lust auras into her, full-tilt. She felt that pounding arousal, plus the effects of her old Master’s powerful triggers, coursing through her like a constant flow of mini-orgasms.

That only made her utter inability to cum even more unbearable.

And they would not.

Stop.

Licking.

“Such a cute kitty,” cooed a sprite in her ear, giving it a loving lick.

“So sensitive,” sang a blonde, running her tongue repeatedly over Kitten’s inner thigh.

“So naughty, having the cupid playing with us earlier!” giggled a brunette who was eagerly licking at Kitten’s neck. “Mm! But now puppies and kitty get to play together!”

They all giggled at that.

Kitten whimpered and whined, humping the puppy sprite’s face desperately. The redhead giggled, lapping over her clit with preternatural hunger—as if the catgirl’s pussy juices were the tastiest treat she’d ever had.

It was unbearable.

It was exquisite.

Another hour or so of this, and the catgirl would probably be as brainless as a lust sprite herself.

Master, she thought, tears of joy and torment streaming down her face as the gorgeous nubile fey women licked her pussy, her breasts, her sides—so ticklish!—and her neck, I sure hope you make it back to your Kitten very soon!

She had been in this state for several hours already, and Master was due to get home any minute now. She was nearly mindless with bliss. It was a good thing Master was always so happy to let Kitten cum.

She couldn’t imagine what sort of state she’d be in if she had to go all the way to morning without his sweet mercy.