Chapter 5 - Gahren the minotaur
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I didn't often use the top of the tower. The view's not that impressive when you can fly on command, and most of the girls aren't comfortable going that high. It blew None's mind and make the low, mining races like the kobolds and the dwarves dizzy to be up this high without an entire mountain beneath them. I went up there that day with one of the higher quality skeletons. He wasn't especially large, but the specialized remains of some mouthy elf had kept some exceptional control over his motor functions. Sometimes I sent him up to check on the surrounding area, tracking any movement or changes in the terrain. I had decided to check things for myself that day, likely out of pride.
The land around my tower was still considered hell to travel through. The land was healthy enough, but it was home to all manner of monsters that recognized outsiders as unwelcome. Anything of value was likely to be watched over by a mimic, local spirits, or at least been scouted by some of the tribes of dwarves or kobolds. That said, the natives were looking like they were starting to prosper. The orcs had expanded more to the west, and while wary of each other, they had begun openly trading. The goblins were regularly building more huts, apparently starting to mate faster than they were dying by local wildlife (or simply killing each other in their mayhem). The kobolds were starting to get their acts together and had some small and primitive farmland being cleared out. They were getting organized and cooperating, and while I had my hand in it, it had to be because of my harem of secretaries as well.
"There you are, chief." Baruun pulled herself up the rest of the stairs, a thin sheen of sweat of her dull green skin. It made her biceps and breasts shine in the late morning light.
"And here I thought I'd almost found some quiet," I said with a wry smile. I have the hood on my robe up to keep out the occasional chill, but Baruun seems to ignore it. Maybe she's grateful for it, by the look of her. "Are you alright?"
"Fine, sir," she replied curtly. Orcs can be like animals sometimes; it can be hard to tell if one's becoming sick or been wounded out of their sheer refusal to look weak. "I'd just been running. I had come up here to scout the territories."
"I was basically doing the same thing." Baruun steps up to stand beside me. I'd taken a seat in my tacky, oversized throne that the previous owner had left behind (I had only taken the time to chip off the bat wings on top, because seriously...). I ran a hand along Baruun's powerful thigh, feeling her tense appreciatively as I let the fingers wander under her loincloth and brush the brand that I'd given her as the sign of her redemption. "Any news then?"
"A feud of ownership at dawn between Vuhk and Torsk."
"Weapons?" I ask.
"Wives."
"Ah." There's a bit of quiet as she lets me fondle her. It's a bit of an unspoken game we play sometimes. Her stoicism versus my gentle touch. She always caves eventually, but it's fun to see how long the warrior woman can last. "If you're so interested in scouting, I had a question for you."
"Anything, chief." Her voice faltered, but didn't quite break. I give her pubic hair a tiny tug before I got going again.
"What's this?" I tap the map next to me, where the skeleton is subtly shading mountains between marking off plans and changes in the terrain. My finger drums on the elaborate canyon-like structure in an area near the mountains that surround half the area. It winds around like a snake at parts, but others like stiff angles that appear man-made.
"That's The Labyrinth, sir. No-man's land. All the races know of it."
"So that's why my skeletons go in and never come out. Why is it a no-man's land?"
"The minotaurs live there. They prefer to be left alone and do things their own way."
Interesting. Minotaurs are huge deals: averaging ten feet tall and 300 pounds at the minimum. Amazing warriors if you can find them and somehow get them on your side, but they're not fond of big kingdoms. "I'd say the same about the orcs. Do you know why they live in a maze?"
"Not sure. Like I said, nothing lives in there but the bullllllls." Her voice breaks at last, but stays on her feet. Her thighs flex as I lightly press firmly against her clitoris.
"I don't believe that. They're not known to be cannibals, so there must be something for them to live off of in there. If nothing else, they're a great resource themselves."
"Very wise, chief. Did you want me to... come with you...?" Her husky voice is low and breathy, and whether by weakness from her arousal or simple submission, Baruun goes to her knees. I smile down at her and undo my pants beneath my robe. It's a bit drafty up here, but I count on her to keep me warm.
"I think I'll go alone this time. You're in charge of the tower while I'm gone. Just don't go too hard on Marcus. He saluted me too hard and I think he's a little off."
"Yes, my chief," Baruun says in that small, submissive voice that's so sexy to hear coming out of her. She stoops and braces her hands on my thighs, but I take her by the chin and tilt her head up to look at me.
"Do you have any further news?" I ask sternly. I see her freeze, something I don't think I've seen in Baruun before as she simply doesn't know what to do.
"No, sir."
"Advice? Suggestions?"
She pauses again before she adds. "Only caution. They are puzzling and powerful barbarians."
"Then I think you'll get along fine," I say before I release her chin, allowing her to go down on her chief.
I could always fly right to the middle of the maze, but I decide to go by foot for a while. There's nothing to say that there's something of real value in the center, but many adventurers that snuck in during the past ruler's reign often ended up going into The Labyrinth to chase some rumor or another. Curiosity gets the best of me too, sometimes (and historically often for wizards).
There's not much in the maze at first besides a lot of ancient stone walls that run about 400 feet high. There are a few carvings, but they vary from unreadable runes to simple arrows left by explorers, so it's still unclear if they're natural or constructed. As I get deeper, I start to find the real system of the maze.
I was starting to wonder where all the dungeons were in my territory. It's a dated term, but travelers called any decent cave, tomb or the like worth robbing a "dungeon." It mostly got popular a couple hundred years or so ago when King Peter the Third found a mysterious pit of monsters, traps and other nastiness. The default punishment became lowering someone inside and letting fate decide if they would be eaten by beasts or escape with their lives. The thing was that people who came out often had scavenged strange weapons or artifacts; people started to litter or kick guards in the crotch just so they could take a crack at getting "thrown in the dungeon" to get rich quick.
I'd been walking a half-inch above the ground when I saw the first pressure plate that I would have triggered. I eyed it curiously before I pull out a short bone from one of my pockets, whistled at it, and tossed it onto the ground. There was some spectral yapping before a shaggy black dog appeared around the bone. The fur hung over his eyes, barely short of his snout and hanging tongue. He was barely translucent, enough that the glowing bone that had attached to one of his legs was visible through it all, the center of his ghostly echo.
"Go on ahead, Checker," I tell him. The dog barked and bounced as if it were happy to see me, so I pet him around the head. He feels like a pillow more than a real dog, as if I could push my hand into the fur and out the other side without ever touching flesh. When he's done celebrating the bit of attention, I gesture ahead. "Go. Lead the way, boy."
Checker the ghost dog barks again and goes scampering up ahead. I walk on the air behind him until I hear a dull sucking sound. I stop several yards behind the dog as several big pink tentacles shoot out of a crack in the wall and yank him in. Checker barks angrily rather than any cries of pain, but there's some more wet sucking and... what I want to call a "blorp" coming from the opening. It stops abruptly and I tap my foot impatiently on the air when the barking starts again. The single bone floats in the air from where he'd been standing and Checker reforms, trotting back to me and looking expectantly.
"Good boy." So there was a yugguth there. People swear they're intelligent things, but no more than a spider by all I can tell. Simple scavengers in dungeons and murky caves. Of course, that means it has to eat, and that means there's something in here. With Checker no worse for wear and acting like the whole thing never happened, I pick him up in my arm, float over the crack in the wall, and set him down to lead the way again.
Checker triggers a few more traps and beasts along the way. He's bitten in half by a giant centipede (which I promptly freeze and shatter) and crushed by a hydraulic chunk of wall (which we scoot around while it resets itself), but at least he's too short for the dart traps. Either way, his ghostly form grows right back in a few seconds, usually barking huffily at his cause of "death" and moving on.
We're maybe an hour of a casual pace into the maze when we find out first minotaur. A huge figure at 9 feet tall lunges around a corner and picks up Checker, snorting with broad nostrils. They're slightly more human than what most people expect. Yes, they have all the basic features of a wild bull or an ox: hooves, horns, broader bodies and a thick layer of fur over their bodies. The fur thinned rapidly around the abdomen, something like an upright centaur. In case their size wasn't enough, the lack of fur on the chest and stomach make it clear that they are almost completely made of muscle. Apart from the horns and barbarically shaggy hair, the face itself looks like that of a thick-featured man. Just hope that you don't mind the smell of sweaty, unwashed fur.
Checker yapped at him until the minotaur gave him a puzzled look. When neither of them seemed ready to immediately eat the other, the ghost dog licked him on the nose. The minotaur licked his face back. Checker squirmed through it, but he seemed to like it in hindsight.
"Excuse me," I say calmly. "You seem to have found my Checker."
The minotaur looked him over with a low grunt, then set my summon back down. "You named it Checker?" he grumbles in a slow but quite legible voice.
"No. He was always named that. You can't really see it right now, but he had a checkered pattern near his tail when he was alive."
"He was alive?" the beastman asked with a furrowing of his brow.
"That's his original leg bone right there," I say, pointing at the one actual bone in his body.
"Huh…"
"Don't worry. He wasn't my dog. Just a very successful experiment."
"Huh."
"I'll have you know that little girl was very happy. Not so much the adults who owned all the pitchforks in town." I folded my arms to show I was getting impatient. "I'll be blunt..."
"Good," the minotaur replied plainly.
"You know who lives in that tower?" I jerked my thumb over my shoulder towards where you can see the peak of my huge residence in the distance. "I live in that tower. I'm the informal but very real head of this land, and I'm looking to open dealings with the minotaurs."
"Ah," he said with a slow nod. "That's fair."
"Good."
"Well, the borders are always open," he said with a wave of a huge hand. "Come and go as you please."
"I don't think navigating a maze of traps is an ideal welcome." I kneel to scratch at Checker's back. My fingers go through it it, but he still kicks his leg happily. "Just take me to your people and I'll sort this out myself."
The big beastman shrugs and leads me back through the halls of their maze. He stops once in a while to pat down a wall or toss out a stone to trigger a trap. He didn't talk much until we were there, but I figured a lot about them just from watching him work. They stayed inside the maze because it took care of itself. They were slow and sturdy, able to take the occasional bout of hunger or prick of a spike without much worry. They were slow because they didn't have to chase their prey when they knew all the turns and traps: they just chased it to a dead end or into a trap. There was practically an ecosystem inside the maze itself for them to live off of. Mosses and mushrooms grew that he tore off a crack and stuffed into a crude pouch, and the various monsters and scavengers would leave them decent meat. Not the healthiest diet, enough to keep them alive, but it wasn't clear how they maintained something so huge.
That became a lot clearer when we'd arrived at their camp. The people were clearly nomadic, with some large but simple tents set up at one of the corners of the maze. A few of the brawnier males were stationed on either side, but they barely gave me a second glance as I arrived with my guide. Check wouldn't stop bouncing and barking around at all the new faces, so I didn't bother reining him in. I considered undoing his spell, but I decided to let him run around. It wasn't like he could affect anything important as he ran through some tent flaps and entertained some of the minotaur children.
There were about thirty of them altogether, but Geez (the one who led me there) mentioned a few other tribes and parties throughout the maze. The females were slightly more scarce, but they seemed more appreciated for it. They walked around in similarly little clothing besides what weapons and bags were practical, which meant basically nothing around their camp. Their diet became a bit more obvious as Geez passed off his mushrooms and moss to one of the ladies. Like the rest of them, her chest was enormous, even for their tall build. They were literally the size of beach balls while jiggling and swaying heavily. The red-furred woman promptly but lazily starts to eat it as a young minotaur comes scampering over, latching onto her breast and drinking from her noisily. I avert my eyes, but the female looks like she hasn't even noticed, or is so casual about it that it's not worth reacting to. When I try looking elsewhere, I just find one of the adult bulls sitting cross-legged and drinking from another minotaur's teat in the exact same way.
"So the females get the food and you all live on the milk?" I ask Geez as he moves through the busy bundle of fellow taurs.
"We have meat sometimes," he adds. "But mostly." He points up ahead to a small gathering. Four adults stand near a single female who kneels patiently. She is bare like most of the females, so her white-gray fur of her lower body is all that's covered. Her mammoth breasts are even bigger than the ones I'd seen already, hanging down past the fur and just in front of a soft belly. Her features seem more delicate, somehow. Smooth and clean skin stands out compared to her more rugged kin, and her light brown hair is crudely cut short to confirm that, while only a foot or so long, the females have horns as well. These huge blue eyes look at me for a moment before the male behind her puts a blindfold over her face and goes for the large axe leaning on the wall. The scraping of the metal on the stone makes her animalistic ears twitch.
"There," Geez says. "The Warda tends to watch all the butchers."
"Butchers," I repeat before I snap my fingers. There's a crack of thunder as I appear in front of the executioner right as his axe reaches peak. "Excuse me, sir," I say politely despite my cold stare. It makes the giant of a man stumble and drop his weapon behind him. It feels good to have stopped the murder of the cow-like woman, but it's also just a point of pride to be able to intimidate a minotaur that had my height and a half.
"What are you doing, outsider?" asks a patient but expecting voice. One of the younger females stands up, not as busty as the blindfolded one and with darker fur.
"Greetings. You must be the Warda. I'm Lord William. I'm the chief of the orcs, ruler of the kobolds, god of the goblins, highest equal to the dwarves, and the sun-stained beacon of the dark elves. I have to ask them what that last part means, but basically I'm in charge of all this land you're on."
"On what grounds?" the Warda replies (or so I assume, since she hasn't corrected me).
"On those that I killed the previous inhabitant and can do the same to anyone who doesn't agree with me. Not a threat, just a fact." The rest of the minotaurs eye me warily, and I take a casual sidestep to make sure my back isn't to the executioner.
"And if we disagree?" their leader asks warily as she shifts her weight uncertainly. It does make her breasts wobble like fleshy oceans, and I catch the captive one's rack bouncing as her breathing grows a bit deeper and more rapid. Like only now she's becoming afraid.
"All kinds of fun things. It depends how creative I feel. Now I'm just here to do some business, but I'd like to speak with your prisoner here. What did she do wrong?"
"It's none of human business," the leader replied curtly. "Doros? Continue."
The big guy eyes me cautiously as he reaches for his axe. Checker comes yapping towards me, happy and oblivious, but he's a great distraction. I snap my fingers once and the camp has suddenly has more than tripled its population. My skeletons were there in full armor, weapons at the ready and scattered around the camp. It was mostly at random, but I'd been careful to put a few around me and one between Doros and his axe.
"Doros? Be a dear and don't continue for a minute," I chime. The tribe has all frozen as Marcus draws his massive longsword.
"GREAT LORD WILLIAM! IT IS A PLEASURE TO SERVE YOU! HAVE YOU FOUND MORE BLASPHEMERS TO YOUR RULE IN NEED OF A MIGHTY FIGHTY SMITEY !?"
Everyone gives Marcus a look, including me. "Mighty... Marcus where do you even get this from?"
"I COULD NOT SAY, SIRAH! WOULD YOU HAVE ME RIP MYSELF IN HALF WHEN I AM THROUGH WITH YOUR ENEMIES!?"
"No. And no, Marcus. Thank you. They're not a threat to me yet."
I see Geez who had been hanging back through all this. "You named it Marcus?"
"No, his name is Marcus. Look, not the point. You want to know what the point here is?"
"That you have us outnumbered with superior magic?" the Warda asks.
"True, but not the point. I just bought almost a hundred bodies into your maze with a snap of my fingers. Do you keep planning to eat moss and carrion all your lives when there's food to spare in the outside world?"
They seem to hesitate, and I snap again. The skeletons lower their weapons and slump from the waist-up, effectively at-ease. Only Marcus stands upright and salutes; he bashes himself in the head with the pommel of his sword and almost falls over. The young minotaur who had played with Checker laughs and starts to poke Marcus in the ribs. Marcus stays motionless, but he grunts softly as he tries to stay focused and ignore the kid.
"I do come here in peace, if a peace enforced by myself. If I'm able to leave you to your business and count on you if things get dangerous, then I'm more than happy to leave you be. But I need a means to work with you and communicate. So I ask again." I peel up the captive cow's blindfold, and she blinks at me with one of those big beautiful eyes again. "What did she do wrong?"
"Nothing," sighs one of the nearby males. "It is our tradition. Our cows give our milk and lead our people. It gives the minotaurs our strength. When they grow old and infertile, their milk grows thin and tasteless. It gives no more strength and so they serve the tribe as meat."
Cannibalism then. It explains why they shaved her hair short to make her easier butcher. If the women somehow process what they eat into even more vitamin-rich milk then are eaten when they can't, that just might be enough to keep them alive. They seem entirely lax about the matter. They're almost bored, now that I'm not an obvious threat anymore.
I tug the blindfold off with a quick gesture. "What's your name?" I ask the patiently waiting cowgirl.
"Gahren," she replied evenly. The same slow and ponderous pace as the rest of their movements and speech.
"And how old are you?"
"Forty, sir. Just this spring." They say that ogres live short life spans for sentients, but even they can make it past 50 pretty regularly. Much longer if they make their wave into a society that promotes health and bathing. No way that's as old as she'll get.
"And how much do you weigh?"
She blushed at that and finally moves as she scratches near her horns. "Th-three-hundred and twelve, sir." She has a broad build at about 8 and a half feet tall, some distinct softness here and there but her thick bone structure makes me think it's mostly muscle and a dense skeleton.
"Fine." I gesture swiftly at the Warda, who flinches as there's a burst of light. Several bulging sacks appear in front of them, something I ballpark at three-hundred pounds. "There's three hundred worth of meat, bread and fruit. I'm not even counting her bones, and don't even have to carve it yourself."
The Warda stares as Geez goes and opens up one of the bags and takes out an apple. He sniffs it before taking a bit bite and nodding. "S'good stuff," he reports.
"What's this?" one of the females asks. She picks up what looks like a small wine bottle.
"I thought I'd throw that in there. That's for... afterward. You might want to drink some of that for the first week or so until you're used to the food." I didn't want to imagine what would happen if a tribe of 300 pound monsters suddenly went from a primarily liquid diet to solids. "In return, I'll take Gahren with me. You know the mazes, right Gahren?"
She nods. "Yes, even the children learn the ways of the paths."
"Perfect. Then if she's of no use to you minotaurs, I'll be sure to make good use of her. You'll be my guide, messenger, and emissary to your kind from now on." Gahren nods firmly, and I roll my eyes. "You can say no, by the way. I'm making a generous offer, but I'm not a monster." I look over at my loyal skeleton army and dismiss them with a wave of my hand and a puff of smoke. Marcus remains in place, shaking violently as I hear him stifling laughs at the minotaur has taken to poking around past his ribs.
"At ease, Marcus," I mumble begrudgingly.
He lets out a huge gasp of what he thinks is air. "YES, LORD WILLIAM! GET OUT... GET... STOP IT," he grumbles at the child before he finally vanishes from the maze.
It's a slow but easy walk back to the entrance of the labyrinth. I make a note of some of the more interesting traps and Gahren's practical solutions using assorted sticks, stones and tools on the simple belt she wears around her waist. It still looks easier to fly over next time we visit.
"Have you ever seen outside the maze, Gahren?" I ask from behind her. Even with a bovine tail whipping and that thick fur, her maturity shows in her wide hips that wiggle with each heavy step.
"No, Lord William," she says mildly. She doesn't seem truly shy, but... sturdy. I bump into her at some sudden stops, but she doesn't seem to notice. "What is it like?"
"It's got a little more elbow room. More trees. That's about it," I try to joke. She smiles slightly and nods, but that's all I get. "I look forward to trying your milk, by the way. We're still shipping actual cows into the land, and goat milk just isn't my favorite."
"Oh, you'd hate it," she insists, blushing at the idea. "It's thin and flavorless. Don't you remember?"
"I remember it from the words of a species that's eaten nothing but the finest minomilk in the maze for generations," I correct her. "Thick milk tends to be too much for me. I'm sure it's great." I see her thin tail swish and perk up a bit at such talk. It's definitely stirring up something in her. They said the females were their leaders, after all. She was likely acting this humble around me because she was a few seconds from being literal chopped liver and I had saved her life without hurting the tribe. Not my plan going into it, but an easy way to get what we both wanted.
"Here," she says, stopping in the middle of a random hall. She presses a thick hand on one of the walls and there's a quick crash as a chunk of stone pushes out of one side to crush whatever would have been on the spot. Rather than grinding back, it stays out and she steps behind it, motioning me to follow her inside the dark tunnel. "A hole in the machinery. It leads towards the entrance."
Gahren lights some stubby torch as she leads the way, stooping slightly so that her horns don't brush the ceiling. I can follow at my normal height as I look around, seeing the smooth stone on all sides. "Who made the labyrinth, Gahren?"
"We're unsure, but the stories say that it was our king from centuries ago. He built a fortress for himself, then continued to expand until his whole kingdom was his castle."
"And here wizard towers have all been building upward. Silly me," I chuckle, and she giggles deeply back.
The tunnel goes on for a long way, so we stop partly through to eat. Gahren and I had taken a bit of the food for ourselves. For whatever the reason, magic simply can't shut off your basic needs. You can stave it off, but at most you can last a few hours without hunger or an extra day or two without sleep, and then it kicks back hard when that wears off.
"Were you serious?" she finally asks. At her size, the minotaur made easy work of her share of the meal. I figured I could last a little while longer and let her have my portion of the dried ham and kept the bread for myself. "About my milk?"
"I've never tried it before," I say with a nod. "And sorcerers have a history of trying new things. So yes. I am serious. So long as it's not demeaning to you."
"Oh, no!" she insists. "It's an honor. We stock pride ourselves on being the lifeblood of our people. It's the most natural thing in the maze. Nothing to be ashamed of."
I catch her eyes again, the big shining pools both expectant and overwhelmed. For all her talk, she still blushed as I slide closer and start to knead one of her massive breasts. The motherly cow's breathing immediately changes; it's back to what it was when she was about to be executed. Her nipples start to harden within seconds, ending up almost as big as my thumbs. I can tell because I use them to tease her teats, and her powerful legs shift awkwardly beneath her in the kneeling position.
"I'm not going to eat you," I assure her softly. "You are your own creature. You'll need to understand that to act properly as my ambassador. serve me and no one else. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Gahren says in this short, gasping voice. I can feel her powerful body tense as I lean against her strong and furry thigh, but she stays sitting upright with her breasts thrust out in a practiced, obedient position. She's well-prepared when I put my mouth to her breasts and start to drink, even if I feel her shudder hard enough to wobble both of her mammoth breasts.
It takes almost no prompting to get her to begin lactating. I can't tell what she meant by it being inferior. It's creamy and a bit sweet, not far off from cow milk. Definitely better than goat milk. She starts to breathe more rapidly as if she's starting to fret or panic, but I stroke the fur of her leg down and run a hand on her belly.
"It's good," I say as I bring my mouth from her chest. The puckered nipple is still leaking gently, like a poorly-maintained faucet, but I lick it up off of the curve of her breast. She gasps and shudders again, but shakes her head as she bites her lip.
"You lie," she accuses softly, but she's blushing brighter than ever.
"For what purpose?" I demand calmly. "Because I saved your life and insulting your milk would make you turn on me? It's tasty. Very rich. Not that I'm a cow connoisseur or anything, but I could get used to this with my breakfasts."
Gahren cracks a smile, but it spreads slowly wider until it fills her face. I move to sit in front of her so I can reach her bother breast, stroking my other hand on the inside of her thighs. There's a warmth that radiates from between them, and the fur closer to her groin is already wet with her excitement.
"Please. Continue," she pleads softly. I look up and find her leaking from a third spot as her big eyes have started crying softly. "I missed this."
I feel for the poor girl more and more. She was a literal piece of meat an hour ago, and who knew how long it takes the minotaurs to decide that the milk isn't worth drinking anymore. She seemed unharmed as I explored her broad body, but I can't imagine it's an easy change for her to go through.
"They're beautiful," I tell her. It's a compliment, but it's true. Her breasts are not only massive, but impeccably clean and smooth like two fleshy pearls. The occasional small birthmark marks her skin but none raised enough to feel any different. I run a hand over her chest like I'm polishing the matching orbs with my palm. The other hand rummages through her fur until I feel the part that's covering her heated mound. "They're very full and healthy. I look forward to appreciating all this beauty and flavor for many years."
Gahren sniffs as she sheds big fat tears to go with her eyes, smiling proudly all the same. "Thank you," she says, her chest quivering from her sniffling tears of joy. I get back to drinking her, and her chest has been warmed up enough that the milk comes out more quickly. My lips and tongue caress her nipples to encourage the incoming flow, going between the two before their leaking can get out of hand. Gahren's labored moans get louder and more passionate from the suckling alone.
That's probably for the best, considering that I'm fumbling around for her vagina for what feels like a full minute. The dense and smooth hair of her legs makes me have to sort of follow the heat and wetness and dip under to feel my way there. Her lips are full and fat, almost their own tiny set of curved mounds that part easily to welcome my fingers. I slide in two fingers easily, and when she lets out a needy little moan, I add another. Her flesh is warm and inviting, and gives off an earthy smell that's more appetizing than I thought would come from the lower half of cow.
Size is definitely a factor down there. Her nethers are built for sex with bulls, so I find that the pocket of warm flesh easily takes the fingers. I don't know if she thinks I'm just teasing her, but she definitely acts like it. Her shouts and pleading moans are filling the tunnel and she's grabbed my hand to glue it to whatever breast I'm not feeding on. She's starving for attention after all this time of being shunned and put down, and it feels like I could fill a bar mug with the juices coming out of her by now.
It's hard not to want to please the horny and miserable girl. I remove my hand from her and immediately find myself tempted to taste the thick, fragrant paste on my fingers. "Alright," I say gently before I give in. I lick a finger clean and shed my cloak, using it to wipe up some of her tears. "I think we can do this. But you'll need to lie down."
For as much as I love the tightness of my smaller residents, there's something to be said with sex with a huge woman. We end up in an improvised 69 position, with my groin resting on her face. Her wide mouth easily engulfs my erection, making her cheeks squeeze around it and her tube sock of a tongue slather it with spit. It's so soft and wet that I end up cumming rather quickly inside her and have so little friction that I don't mind immediately going after a second.
On my end, my hands rest on her huge tits, rubbing them down and sucking on them whenever they jiggle close enough to my face. I've had to fist my arm up to the elbow to get her pleased properly. It turns out that despite the size of her vagina, an overly hung minotaur doesn't have to do much searching for a clitoris. They just sort of fill it up and hit everything all at once. When I finally feel the fleshy bud, it's adorable small. Just the size of a fingertip, it's hardly bigger than Nitka's. I roll my fingers over it, one after another as she shrieks and twists, sending shocking jolts through my cock.
"What a precious little pearl you have there," I go on. She moans and squirms, still clearly vulnerable to my flattery. "Under all that meat and fur, you really are such a delicate little cow. You're built to feed an army and yet you're such a feminine little thing. So beautiful. So sweet."
"Oh, WILL!" she shouts, her thick lips parting from my cock just long enough to let out her desperate noise. She engulfs my shaft in her mouth, deeply enough that I feel her horns brush against my thighs and my balls join my dick inside her maw. I find myself greedily going back to her milk again and again. I wasn't kidding about Gahren's pussy smelling appetizing. I'll have to see about using her cum in the kitchen if she'll allow it.
I cum into her mouth a second time, but she's relentless. Her nurturing nature has her out of control in her warpath to pleasure me. Even when I urge her to stop, she sucks harder and louder as if that's a legitimate argument. It's certainly hard for me to vocalize and more complaints when she does... I just keep fisting and bumping my knuckles against her bud, lightly boxing it until her thighs close like a vice around my arm. I wince out of reflex more than pain as her tail whips against my elbow, like it's trying to give me some encouraging spanks before she cums for me. It's this precise, slightly cool stream that squeezes out of her while her entire body flexes to go as stiff as steel. She makes no noise at first, but I feel her chest full of air and pushing her breasts up against my arms.
"You can let it out," I say, encouraging her with a firm pinch of one nipples while I bite into the other. "No one will hear you."
"MOOOOO~!" It's not even a real bovine noise like I'd been braced for. It's this cute little cry from a fully human throat. It's only years of practicing a grim necromancer glare that keeps me from laughing out loud, but a snicker gets loose. As I roll off of her, he quickly covers her face and blushes harder than I've seen her. "Oh my gods, I am so embarrassed," she mewled. "I just... I was leaking, and..."
"Don't worry about it," I laugh as I stroke her hair with the cleaner of my arms. "It was cute. Besides, it's like I said. Nobody heard you."
She smiles and takes my hand, engulfing it in ther thick paw. "I never would have thought today would end up like this. Not ever," she mewled.
"Well I see that my harem girls appreciate their position," I say with a smile, kissing her on her full lips. "If you liked that, I think you'll enjoy your stay."
Things worked out nicely with the minotaurs. Although Gahren seems glad to be out of the maze, she spends half her time in the dungeon living in one of the larger cells. The rest she just spends roaming outside or at my room getting carefully milked each morning. She hasn't had to go more than a day without milking before, and she always seems rather perky after we're done. I'd once heard from a farmer once that udders will get sore if you leave them full for too long, but I had never quite decided if that was farm wisdom or some perverted joke.
Most of the resident girls don't mind her. Helga's curious about her and None is delighted to try the milk herself. Baruun keeps sneaking glances at Gahren and at first I think it's because she's not the tallest woman in the room anymore. She doesn't start anything, but she seems put off around the big she-bull.
It's a few days later when Gahren is making a delivery to the labyrinth that the orcess approaches me. I'm back on the top of the tower, with my unofficial cartographer Finnius detailing a finer map of the old stone maze from the inside. "I bring news, my chief," she said with another of her breast-jiggling salutes.
"If you've brought it, then say it," I say in one of those cool one-liners that I like to toss at the occasional minion. It's a little joke just for me. She hesitates. Maybe she didn't get the joke or thought I was angry. "Sorry. What is it?"
She pauses again before she finally spits it out. Baruun is as brave and blunt a woman as I'd hope to have delivering my news and orders. It leaves no room for humor, hesitation or lies. "I have seen our shamans, chief William. I am proud to say that I am carrying your children."
I'm glad that Finnius is doing the map before I would have just knocked the whole inkwell over. It wasn't something I'd dreaded or feared, since it was obviously a possibility. I'd heard that half-breeds were difficult to conceive, but not impossible. I look up at her and she looks back, her features as focused and serious as ever. I step up and hug her, feeling how her armor is a loosened around her waist to make room for her belly that grew until it pushed against her abs.
I reach under her loincloth, rubbing the redeeming brand that I gave her before running it up to cup her baby bump. "Don't worry. We'll take good care of them," I assure her. "I always take care of what's mine."
-x-X-x-
Chapter 6 - Nocutia the Dark Elf
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"Okay, ladies. First proper meeting of the so far unnamed land of Overlord William has come to order. Any points of order?" I had my assembly of representatives/lovers at the big fancy table that I'm sure the old owner had used to monologue to captured guests or assemblies of assassins before I took it off his hands.
"We're out of beer in the kitchen!" Helga (spokeswoman and barmaid of the dwarves) mentioned enthusiastically, punching the table with her hairy knuckles.
"Only because you took it all to your room," I correct her. Helga just laughs and leans back in her chair. "Let your circles know that I'll send the skeletons down for another beer run."
None the high priestess and shaman of the goblins jumped up to stand in her seat, resting her breasts on the table as she raised her hand. "I have shared your wisdom with the goblin tribes! They are most pleased with your blessing!"
"Good," I answer curtly. "...which wisdom was that?"
"The secret that human jelly is just mushed up fruit and very easy to make."
"Ah. Good. And how are the minotaurs taking to our new arrangements?"
Gahren the longspeaker of the minotaurs straightened her broad shoulders and sat upright at her massive height. She was very grateful for the whole save your life thing, so she was taking her role with enthusiasm. "Very well. The kobolds are impressive diggers, and their tunnels have not disturbed any of the traps or local beasts of the labyrinth while leaving us open to trade."
"And the kobolds find it delicious!" added Nitka. A few days of focused work had the diligent lizard-dogs building two underground trade routes as drop points for the minotaurs. They could swap raw materials and dwarven weapons through to them, while it turned out that labyrinthian crawlers were quite the delicacy to the mining races (dwarves covered them in spices while the kobolds were just glad to eat giant bugs).
"The Mugra clan wishes to wage war with the Nokrak. They need the commander's approval to battle them openly," Baruun added when the tunnel exchange was done.
"Why is that?" I asked.
"The Nokrak's commander Bevgen stole Mugra's commander's wife."
"Classic," I sigh. "What's the traditional ruling on that?"
"Waging war."
"Of course." Well there was no good reason to let an entire clan wipe themselves out because one of them cucked another. That was the obvious answer that orcs wouldn't really understand. "So... the Mugra was too weak to guard his wife. Bevgen can keep the wife, but for his thievery, the Mugra leader can cut a piece of his choosing off of him. But if Bevgen dies, so does he. How's that?"
Baruun bared her tusks with a grin. "Entertaining. Brutal. I think they'll trust in that." I'm really starting to get good at this evil overlord thing (or as I'm preferring to call it, a multicultural management position).
There were a few more ideas for trades and needs, largely just stuff they could sort out for themselves. "Alright. Then was there anything else that needs sorting before we move on to breakfast?"
"YES, LORD WILLIAM!" Well shit. My trusty and most semi-competent armored skeleton appeared in the doorway and saluted. "THERE'S A DELIVERY FOR YOU AT THE CASTLE GATES!"
"It's a tower, Marcus," I sighed. "And it's a door, not gates. Tell them they can leave it here and have the skeletons sort it out." I was still getting to some of the smaller populations in my territory, but most of their representatives that dared to come near my tower were already here. If it was that important, the merchant or messenger or whatever would be willing to wait with some of the brighter skeletons or leave it with them.
"AT ONCE, MY LORD! SHALL I LEAVE IT SOME WATER AND SCRAPS OF BREAD?!"
"Leave it…? Marcus, what is the delivery?"
"The Lady…" Marcus locked up, then looked down at his wrist where he was known to carve notes down when he needed to. I was sure I'd have to repair whatever he'd carved into his arm bone. "INCISTIUS ARACHELLI OF THE DARK ELVES SENDS YOU ONE OF HER FINEST ROYAL HANDMAIDENS."
"Son of a drake-fucking…" I sat up and rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Ladies, the kitchen's halfling skeletons will be up with the first course. I'll go sort this out." I left with a chip on my shoulder, because I sure didn't open negotiations with the kobolds to regain access to the honey just to not enjoy my tea the way I like it every morning.
My mood brightened considerably once I'd met my delivery girl. The handmaiden was all the good things they told you about the dark elves, or the d'ruava, technically speaking. They seemed quite fond of the colloquial name for their race, maybe because they assumed we meant their living in darkness and not because they were coal-skinned backstabbers and sneaks.
Like their surface elf brethren, you had almost zero body fat on a d'ruava. They were slim and beautiful in shape, like a deer or a spider. While the wood elves kept themselves practical and slender all over, the dark elves got much more generous with it. Their reputation as seducers clearly originated from this specimen's soccer ball jugs and matching hips. Her hair looked like liquid silver dyed to have a single thick streak of pink down one side. Her long locks perfectly smooth and flowing down her skin that looked like coal that had been polished into a smooth diamond without losing the color. She wore even less than I saw on most of the dark elves, effectively just a dozen or so long bands of silk that hung over the important parts to give the classic Eastern Alavic slave girl look. Some fancy jewelry drew the eye to her neck, cleavage and face, and I felt confident there would be more should i choose to go digging for it.
"Good morning, gracious host and master!" she greeted, taking an elaborate (and revealing) bow when I was done taking her in. "I am Nocutia Lunfralla, a servant to the great Lady Aracheli. I was sent to serve you as though you were my beautiful grace herself." She finally rose after what really was a half minute of a very animated bow before producing a scroll from I didn't dare ask where in her skimpy silks. I took it, skimming over the elaborate script. She smiled patiently with a stunning smile, like she had been trained in looking pretty and not thinking all her life. I picked up a hunt of surprise when I look back up after a couple seconds; I'm a fast reader, and she probably didn't expect me to know Deepscript.
"I see," I said. In so many words, the scroll was a message from one of the dark elf queens offering Nocutia as a gift and emissary. "Seems in order. Then you're willing to do everything I wish, servant?"
"Very willing, and VERY able," she said with a batting of her eyes and a wide smile.
"Fine. Come with me." She seems perfectly happy to obey my order as I briskly walk up the steps back to the dining room. The girls have only just started on the toast and tea, thank the gods above and devils below. "Everyone!" I call to them, and the girls look up. There's the quick look of understanding in their eyes, since everyone but Gahren had seen this before, and I'm sure she gets the same idea when I show up with an interspecies hottie.
"This is Nocutia Lunfralla. She's been sent here by the dark elves to act as my servant." The dark beauty smiles brightly and waves to the other girls. "However, I frankly have a few servants too many," I say, glancing over at the 3-foot skeletons trotting in with the big tray of fried eggs. I have no idea why the halfling undead cook better than the rest, but they do. "As such, you girls will each have her at your service for a day each and then pass her around again. Helga, you get first go."
"Fockin' really?" she asked with a wide grin as she dumped some booze into her coffee. "Great! I'll do me best not to break the little one!"
It was subtle, but Noctua faltered. It wasn't that she stopped smiling but that she locked into the exact expression she was on for a few seconds while she rethought things. She had been so fluid and active otherwise, like a seductive butterfly that couldn't come to a halt and still stay in midair.
"Are you...? I mean, it's my pleasure, my lord," the dark elf agreed in a slightly strained and imploring tone of her sweetness. "But don't you think I would be better suited to your needs by tending to them personally?"
"I'm going to be honest with you, Noctua: I get more 'tending' in a day than I think is healthy with these girls around. They could use some attention of their own. Treat them as you would me, but with a smaller penis." I hesitate and wave a finger meaningfully at None as she eats two whole eggs in a sloppy bite. "Except maybe None. You'll learn," I say, indicating the ridiculously huge clitoris on goblins.
"Uh... Lord William? If I could..."
"What're ye waiting for?" Helga demanded. "I can hardly keep drinkin' unless you get me some more to eat. Then ye should make a right pretty footrest for a while! I am gonna love keepin' a pet elf around! Ha!"
Nocutia's thin and painted lips twitch for a minute before she looked at me again. I shrugged. "You heard the woman. I appreciate your being so willing to cooperate with them. Just ask the skeletons if you need anything, and you can share the room of whoever you're serving at the time."
In reality, I had barely any trust for the woman at all. I believe she was a gift, but the dark elves have a saying: "all gifts are poisoned, whether literal or with gratitude." If you met a d'ruava on the surface and they weren't a trader or a diplomat, they were always up to no good. Dark elf politics involve more enslaving, bribes and murder than they do campaigning (which humans aren't so hot at themselves, but the d'ruava tend to flaunt it). This makes a lot of enemies, and this makes for a lot of banishments. Nocutia hadn't even flinched in the sunlight, which even if she had a reasonable walk to get to my tower would have been noticeable. That was one advantage I had over the dark elves; they were smarter and sneakier than the other races I lived with, but they had a written language. The former own had a decent selection of dark elf history and literature that I'd flicked through so I knew what to expect. So I stayed in my tower and did my usual business while periodically using my magic to spy on how she reacted over the next week of servant treatment. If nothing else, I knew that Helga was a strong start. If she had any sort of literal poisons on her, dwarves had such strong livers that she'd use it up and barely notice.
Speaking of, Helga's turn with the new servant girl was best summed up as humiliating, harmless, and hilarious. There was a lot of fetching drinks and grooming her, with the occasional approving slap on the dark elf's bubble butt. The dwarf and elf wars were ancient history to the point where not even any elves were old enough to have lived through them, so they got along as a race but maintained this friendly rivalry. Helga clearly had a blast in it.
None was next in line by my randomly made servant list (I'd tastefully avoided anything that rhymes with "chore list" as a courtesy). I was curled up in bed with Gahren, stroking her hair and udders while we watched the little goblin wise woman run her ragged. While Helga worked her like a dog, None treated her like her new big sister. She ran around showing Nocutia all the magics she knew and compared notes on potions. Whenever I came up, None was sure to tell her how wonderful her goddess William was. I almost thought the dark elf was getting off easy before it occurred to None that some late night fooling around was in order. Nocutia took a while to register the size of None's genitals, but she served them well once she got the hang of giving a goblin head.
Nitka was next, and she was probably the most professional of the group. That is, she knew she was in charge and ensured that Nocutia did every chore she gave her correctly. She sorted out her her books, maps and other belongings for her, but the kobold was quick to pinch her on the breast or ass with those hard little nails of hers. Nocutia tried to ask more about me at one point, and that just got her a whip on the ass from her keeper's strong tail. "Business first," she ordered. I was pleased to see how she made use of the black beauty as a seat and bounced her hips and tail on it for a quick bit of relief.
Gahren had been very low maintenance, considering the minotaurs were mainly traveling scavengers. I had to explain to her a few times what slaves were for, but I refused to give her any direct orders on what to do with her. As such, she had some very basic needs. I wasn't sure if Nocutia knew what a farm hand was, but her duties with her seemed very similar. It was basic grooming and serving; bringing her food and drink, combing her hair, filing her hooves and scrubbing her down in the bath (no doubt saving the duty of gently milking her to myself). It wasn't especially hard work, but with a woman with as much hair and body as Gahren, it was a real act of endurance. I paid her the compliment of never looking lovelier than she had after about 2 straight hours of brushing her fur.
Now Baruun was a treat to watch. She seemed disgusted at the idea of anything so pretty being her servant, even if she was still in the early stages of pregnancy. She immediately asked me if she could scar her for whatever reason, but I talked her out of that before Nocutia could just walk out at the idea. That much work to make her look that pretty seemed like a waste to ruin, even if her liquid silver hair and dark delicate nails were a bit of a mess after all this hard work.
Baruun stayed convinced that she was unfit to serve, so I let her go ahead with her second idea; getting her into servant shape. She spent the whole day exercising, running and getting fingered and inspection while Baruun chased her around like a drill sergeant. Nocutia was shining with sweat by the end of the day, and even then Baruun had her spread eagle on her bed's furs and blankets. "You will cum twice as much tomorrow," my big green-brown woman snarled at her. "And then twice again the day after. You will not live in these quarters and expect to leave my chief dissatisfied!" However gifted the girl was at being sexy and flexible, she couldn't possibly keep up after her training marathon. Baruun's endurance made sure that she wouldn't mess with her again.
I might make a point to check with the other girls if they got the same treatment... but lucky for Miss Lunfralla, that's her last stop for the rotation. I send Marcus for her on the next afternoon, letting her sleep in before he goes pounding on her door. The dark elf has her hair tied back and shows signs of a hasty scrubbing, still doing her best to look her best for me. It's got this nice kind of Cinderella effect compared to the preened whore look she had earlier, especially with just how worn down her eyes looked.
"So. How have you liked your stay so far?" I ask as I lean back on my throne. I'm having some cocoa with minotaur milk from a thick dwarven mug; something I've made into my latest post-lunch treat.
Nocutia gives me one of her perfect and delicate smiles, and I counter it with a scowl. She was ready for her act last time, and I make it clear I want none of it. "It's been awful," she groaned, slumping her shoulders. "I've never worked so hard in my life!"
Just as I thought. "Not a lot of hard labor in slave life down there, is there?"
"Not for the pretty ones," the d'ruava sighed.
"So... do you know why you're here?"
"You sent for me, lord."
"I mean on the surface. In my tower. On my land instead of under it where you came from." I look at her and snap my fingers. A flickering green flame appears a few inches from my hands. "I appreciate honest above all else from my advisors," I say with a hint of grimness. "So if you please..."
I see her eye the flame. She does it again... she doesn't break, but she pauses. Somehow she knows that it's a slightly modified Flame of Truth spell, changing colors as it hears truth and lies. "I am... a gift. A servant of Lady Aracheli..."
The flame turned purple. I smirk as I see her look of surprise. Flame of Truth is an old trick for its practical uses, but if you know it exists, you can easily work around it. It's why I had used my ridiculous magical power to modify the spell to pick up on lies of omission and half-truths.
"Oh please," I say, holding out a hand so that the flame grew bigger. Say, to the scale where I could throw it and obliterate someone. "Go on. Lunfralla, was it?" I've clearly got her on guard as she shuffles her feet. "The surname that translates to 'born under the sun?' Awfully strange name. Disgraceful, really, as I understand it."
Nocutia sighed and slumped as she dropped her practiced smile. "It's a name forced upon all exiled royals. I was Lady Aracheli's younger sister. She stripped me of my rank and lineage before casting me up to the surface with the pretense that I was on a mission to overthrow you and further our family's status."
"Which was what? Poisoning me in the bedroom? Magic? Maybe the old Southern Spider's Nest trick?" Marcus laughed uproariously at the last one for a few seconds before instantly stopping when Nocutia looked at him. I wondered if he knew that phrase, and how.
"I... wasn't sure. I was learning sorcery from my tutors rather than assassination." I eye her cautiously as my flame flickered more towards green but didn't commit to it. "Don't get me wrong, I was going to learn to kill my sister in her sleep and take things over some day. I just thought sorcery would help me stay alive long enough to do it. I even had some poison in my nail polish..."
"But the dwarf and the goblin didn't even notice. I thought so. So now you're a powerless fallen princess," I summarize as I watch the flame level out to solid green again.
She sighed and ran a hand through her messy hair. I'm starting to miss its radiant shine, dulled to a simple gray from her lack of care. "In short. So what are you going to do with me, Dark Lord William?"
"Do they really call me that?"
"Sometimes out of respect. Sometimes with fear." She folded her arms across her inappropriately big breasts with a hint of defiance rather than charm.
"I like it. So how would you like a status equivalent to your sister's and the chance to rub it in her face?" Nocutia blinked at me in surprise as I flash her a grin. The dark elves are a scheming bunch with a superiority complex spawned by generations of seclusion and xenophobia. The only thing they hate more than outsiders are the same insufferable racist asshole neighbors they've been cooped up with for generations.
"What.... what do I need to do?" she asked, eager but puzzled.
"Becomes my aide. Be like one of the girls. Not their servant, but answering directly to me. Considerinng one good tap of earthquake magic could crush their whole village into a blood-soaked sinkhole, they should listen to me more than any of their in-fighting houses. I'll give them fair trade but they'll d the same with me. No more veiled gifts and no more subterfuge."
"How exactly do you plan to make them honor that?" Nocutia asked.
"By having one of their own inspecting everything they ship out to us. You'll know all their tricks of the trade, after all, and who to trust. Plus the dwarves will be glad to lend a hand in any mining and tunnel excavation for a share of whatever they find." I held out my hands in a genuinely open gesture. "And if you stay on the level with me, you can do what you please with them and be the mouthpiece of the dark lord." I really do like that name... plus the dark elves weave the most comfortable bedsheets and I'd love a fresh set. Nothing matches the quality and thread count of something made by a swarm of trained spiders.
"Very... good, sir. My dark lord," Nocutia added with a bow. "You have my loyalty out of hatred of another. Well played. But may I ask a question if I am to be staying here?"
"Sure."
"Why is your skeleton malfunctioning so severely?" Nocutia looked at Marcus, who gave a single scoff.
"Malfunctioning, she says..." he grumbled.
"He's not malfunctioning," I confirm simply. "He's functioning too hard, if anything."
"But he won't stop yelling and his mana work seems so... ornate. Not to play to type," she said as she walked closer to him. "But his magework bands are like cobwebs. Intense patterns within patterns that reflect on another, bouncing... just pieces around." So she does know her stuff! None is useful to have around, but she's a different class of magic entirely. She barely knows how she does it, she just does it. This is some advanced spellcraft theory just to understand and perceive what I do with my undead.
"It's a high investment," I admit. "But he's useful that way. He doesn't lurch and hiss like the other skeletons. He has personality and snap reflexes." Marcus stands upright and raises draws his sword and axe in one go, holding them to his breastplate in a salute. He suddenly lashed out, even faster than my new servant girl can notice as his blade snips her top in half without touching her precious skin. She jumps back too late as her breasts bounce out of the top.
"Okay, you've proved your point," she huffed as she turned to me, shamelessly jiggling her ebony jugs. "But why? Why just that one?"
"You want to know why?" I steeple my fingers and lean on my knees, glaring at her. "This is not the remains of some unmarked grave I dug up. This is Sir Marcilus Falconbeak, the former high witch hunter of the Order of Magi. When a wizard or a sorcerer crosses some line, breaks the wrong law of magic, they don't send another wizard to make it worse. They send witch hunters.
"Marcus joined their ranks at 16. He became a captain by 18. He was a god damned legend of a man by the time he was 25 and he didn't stop there. When they decided I was too dangerous, too powerful, they sent him." I snapped my fingers and my skeletal knight tromped over to me and knelt at my feet. "Marcus chased me for years. Every time, I taunted him, eluded him, escaped his traps and anti-magic relics. He was so singlemindedly loyal to his cause that he never once considered turning back. I would insult him or mock him when I could... freeze him in ice or put him to sleep in a town square. One day, when he finally seemed like he was about to catch me, I stopped fooling around and I murdered him on the spot."
I took Marcus' ax, toying with it in one hand before deciding it was too heavy and putting it back in his hand. He never raised his head. "For daring to bother me like that, I tore out his soul, bound it to his bones, and left him a shell of what he once was. The one he pursued is now his master, and he is happy for it. He dances for me on command."
"SHALL I PERFORM FOR YOU, LORD WILLIAM!? I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON MY TWO-STEP SHUFFLE!"
"No thank you, Marcus." I looked back at Nocutia with a patient and blank expression. "Do I make myself clear."
"If I may, dark lord," Nocutia said carefully. She was being more formal now. More delicate. She even looked a little pale as her skin turned more ashen than charcoal. "I cannot recall a time when I was more aroused. I am sure you will rule the d'ruava wisely." Sure enough, her tiny nipples the shade of expensive chocolate had gotten stiff on her exposed breasts.
I smirked. "Glad to hear. Report back to your people with the news however you see fit. Then report to my bed chambers after that and we'll see about serving your dark lord properly." Nocutia gives me a toothy grin, bordering on manic as she nods and hurries off. I give Marcus a light kick in the breastplate.
"Get up, Marcus. Back to your duties."
"WITH NOTHING BUT PLEASURE, MY LORD WILLIAM!"
"Do you find it strange, Marcus?"
"WHAT IS THAT, LORD WILLIAM THE GREAT AND HANDSOME?"
I snickered. I'd forgotten that one. "That as the man that hunted me for years, I saw you more than anyone else in my life? That I was wandering for so long that you became a familiar face? The closest thing I had to a friend?"
Marcus stood up and scratched his skull thoughtfully with the tip of his sword. "I SHOULD THINK NOT, SIR! WHY, LOOK AT YOURSELF NOW! YOU'VE A HAREM OF CONCUBINES, A TOWER THAT REACHES INTO THE SKY, A STRETCH OF LAND OF YOUR OWN, AND AT LEAST ONE CHILD ON THE WAY! IT IS WHAT LESSER MEN DREAM OF, SIR!"
I sighed and got up, patting him on one armored shoulder. "Thank you, Marcus. Sometimes I need a lack of intelligence to see things properly."
"MY LACK OF INTELLIGENCE IS AT YOUR SERVICE AS ALWAYS, MY LORD!"
"Thanks, old friend. Carry on. I just sent my only living servant away, and I've some concubines to tend to."
-x-X-x-
Chapter 7 - Checking In
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"HAIL, LORDMASTER WILLIAM!" Marcus pumped his fist into a salute that knocked on his hollow skull. "I BRING FINE NEWS ON HIS GLORIOUS DAY UNDER YOUR RULE!"
"Yea, hail yourself," I muttered. "What's the big deal?"
"THE LATEST MEMBER OF YOUR HAREM HAS ARRIVED. WERE YOU PREPARED TO HAVE THEM SATISFY YOU THIS DAY?!"
"Sure. Send them in." Marcus marched up to me and braced his hands on the top of my throne. I stared into his big, beautiful sockets as his shiny white teeth grinned at me forever. Those polished ribs of his looked perfectly chiseled as...
I woke up with a scream. I sat myself up violently enough that Nocutia stirred a moment later next to me. Nocutia woke quickly and already had a knife from somewhere. It was probably the one she kept disguised as her hair clip, for how the white locks tumbled all over her charcoal skin. She calmed down again when she spotted me and slipped the blade off somewhere behind her.
"What's wrong?" she purred, curling up against me with her slick and flawless skin, painted nails running across my chest. "Tormented by the heroes and hundreds others you've killed haunting you in nightmares?"
"What? No, I just had a dream where Marcus tried to seduce me." I said, rolling my eyes. "What gave you that idea?"
Nocutia shrugged. "I hear humans have guilt sometimes. It sounds interesting."
"Sorry to disappoint, but I just blow up people who deserve it." I should mention that getting in my way counts as deserving it in my book. I felt a sudden pressure as something closed around my cock. "It's a bit early for me, but I like your enthusiasm," I mused, kissing the dark elf on her ruby lips.
"Ooh, you're very welcome to try," Nocutia giggled. She leaned over and whispered into my ear. "But that's not me down there." She grins wider at my hesitation before I lift up the blankets. None is there, the greasy goblin with her bed-hair and nightgown holding my cock in her mouth as she smiled up at me.
"Well if my assassin is sneaking anything into my bed, as least she's cute," I admitted, lowering the blankets to rest on None's neck so she can breathe.
"Did you hear that down there, None?" Nocutia chimed playfully as she starts kissing at my neck. "Our good master is so unsatisfied that he's been dreaming about skeletons."
"I've got it covered!" None chirped, saluting quickly before she latched back onto my dick like a little green leech. Her tight and wet mouth slurped loudly as her huge and chubby breasts push against my legs. It quickly has me moaning as None showed her usual gratitude and desperation for attention the best way she knows how.
"Do not worry, master," Nocutia assured me in a drawn out and praising tone. It contrasted nicely with the rapid and sloppy sucking sounds coming from down by my waist. "We will tend to your needs. We all know that the great, powerful and handsome Lord William is far too much a man to be satisfied by only one woman of any race." She slid out from under the covers, positioned expertly to show off every tempting bit of her dark and lethal femininity.
"You're after something," I told her plainly. She winked back at me as she raised a long and agile leg, bent so that she ended up straddling my face when she was settled.
"It's not often I get to sit on a man who sits on a throne," she confessed. Her purplish black folds are topped by a trim bit of white hair that reminds me of a wisp of smoke. By the looks of it, she shaved it that way to make the best of what parts of her bush were sheared off to tattoo her with the d'ruava character for "slave." Overall, it made her pussy look like some sweet and exotic dessert.
"Then you're lucky I'm in a good mood," I muttered, holding her thighs and urging her the rest of the way down. There were raunchy jokes about dark elves tasting like charcoal, but Nocutia has this faintly sweet and herbal flavor. While the most human-sized of my lovers, her slit remains tight and draws in my tongue the more I use it on her.
It's something refreshing about Nocutia. The drow is confident and theatrical in bed, slipping in dirty talk and always ready with a husky groan or an expert gyration of her hips. Sex and seduction were always a part of training for politicians and harem girls among the dark elves, and she seemed pleased to see what she could do with me when she put it to good use. Every now and then None will hit just the right spot with her greedy mouth and I let out a deep moan. A moment after I do, I'd hear especially high gasps from her as the vibrations of my own pleasure ripple through to her.
"Does None make for a suitable pet, my master?" Nocutia purred as she ground her hips against my face. I mumbled nodded firmly enough to rock her lower body on top of me, and None giggled and smiled around my cock to indicate she got the message. One of the dark elf's arm ran through her white hair, making her back arch and her large breasts stick out farther. The other hand clutched my hair, a move that seemed for her own balance more than her playful domination judging by how she bit her lip.
Her lean body finally shook violently, fluctuating the pitch of her moan as she came against my lips. For how thick and messy the cum from None and Gahren could be, dark elves apparently are a lot lighter about it. Her slit tightened up like it's being modest, but my intruding tongue treats me to her thin and watery juices. Whatever it is about their diet or anatomy, there's literally a sweet flavor like wine in her cum. It's enough of a treat that as None slobbers over my cock and balls, I cum into her mouth. She squeals with delight and dutifully laps up her goddess' cum as I wrap my legs around her head. She's more than happy to snuggle up against my cock while I stroke Nocutia's hips.
"You are very good at this, master," she moans, stroking my face once before I'm released from between her thighs. I lick her thigh for any last drops of her sweet cum as she parts. "Dark goddess of shadows! I missed having a real one once in a while."
"Faked your share before, have you?" I asked as I sat up and pulled Nocutia into my arms. I eased up on my legs to let None go, but she seemed happy enough to bury herself in my balls like a curious dog.
"In my training days? Hell yes. My teachers were experts, though, so at this point I can just cum on command." She snapped her fingers confidently. "Just give me 2 minutes and a dirty thought and I'm good. Never as fun as the real thing, though."
"Accept no substitutes," I say with a smirk. I snap my fingers to give her a quick unseen hand to stroke her slit. She shivers and loses her grip on me, letting me sit up and fetch my pants and a fresh evil-looking cloak from the dresser. "You girls have anything urgent to report?"
"No, sir!" Nocutia sighs as she calms down. "Just an incredible wake-and-mate with my lord."
"Nope!" None chirps as she wiped her mouth.
"Great. I'll send some of the boys out with the word, but let's call off the meeting today. Have a day for yourselves."
"Perfect." The d'ruava smirks as she fishes around the bedsheets for her bra. "I'm going to visit the family. I can't wait to go rub my new position in my sister's face while smelling like overlord sex."
It must have just been a nice day that got me in a good mood. I headed out through the tower to confirm that everyone has their shit together (while only sharing a polite nod with Marcus... just to avoid giving the wrong impression...). Nitka seemed delighted as our resident kobold just retreated to one of the cooler rooms in the basement and... slept. Okay. Good for her.
Baruun was relieved in her own right to avoid the meeting. She wanted permission to hunt, claiming that being a leader was making her too slow and soft. I looked over the big green monster of a woman, but let her go after reminding her that she IS technically pregnant, if she was only barely showing any signs of bulk around her belly. "I will be fine. She will not go hungry. I shall eat whatever I kill," she assured me.
Once breakfast was out of the way, Helga wanted to fool around in the kitchen. The dwarven ex-barmaid knew her way around a dinner table, so she was glad to try a few things with the chef skeletons. She ended up calling me down for some quick bites and then a quickie in one of the corners. The halfling skeletons busied themselves elsewhere as I bent Helga over a counter and took her from behind, enjoying that dwarven endurance for a couple of orgasms each. She may be on the heavy side and she needs that boost to reach the countertop, but it's reward enough to have that special bonus you only seem to get with dwarf sex. I can't think of another race that supports a different swear word for every time you penetrate her.
"Fucking hell, yes! Pound the slag out of me, ye iron-dicked monster of a man! Blast me cunt with all the jizz ye got'n that half-mast tonker o' yours! I'm rackin' boilin' down there, ya shanty-eyed shit! Plum and pill me bearded skite like it's Saint Olaf's Day mornin'!" I'm pretty sure she's making them up by the end when she runs out of real swears. It feels wasteful and a little rude to try to run a translation spell on your partner's dirty talk.
She just plain runs out of words as she babbles and cums over me the second time before I fill her up with some of my own liquid relief. Helga slides back down, slaps me on the ass, and says "Thanks for that. Now I'm gettin' back to work on teachin' these bags a' bones how to mix a real shot of Dragonbarrel."
I left her to her business, but not before I gave the area a quick swipe with a cleaning spell. I may be a tyrant, but I'm not a monster.
None had taken the little holiday to go commune with the earth: I heard the busty little goblin squealing outside as she splashed around naked in a puddle of mud. It just left Gahren, and I found the burly bovine in her space around the dungeon. She had already taken a short morning walk, still weaning off her nomadic lifestyle. The minotaurs had been used to moving around to harvest and hunt for generations, and they apparently felt like being able to trade for their goods was practically spoiling them.
"They're looking healthy and prosperous thanks to you," Gahren said fondly. "Though speaking of..." Her ears flick in a way that I've picked up to mean she's being subtly flirty. I nod and fetch one of the clean buckets we've been leaving for either of us when she needs her milkings.
"If it means I have a dozen minotaur warriors on call, it feels like a fair price. Even an orc knows to give them plenty of space on the battlefield." Gahren moved to all fours, her thick arms and shaggy legs as impressively sturdy as ever. I take her breasts on either side, rubbing and warming up the massive mammaries of what the minotaurs had thought to be useless breasts. Her ears droop flat against her hair as she mutters a few soft moos and gets into the mood.
It's something we've gone through every few days. It sounds like minotaurs will produce milk all their lives once they start, and there's not much to stop it from building up. She can milk herself of course, but I've dealt with cowards and traitors enough. I aim to reward those who stay loyal to me, even if that means a little farm work.
I could use a spell to cut off her production, but that would mean missing out on the best provider of fresh milk in my whole territory. I could also use some simple telekinesis for the old Phantom Hands spell to milk her, but then I wouldn't get my handfuls of the biggest teats in the castle. I could probably do it in her sleep to make it easier, but she wouldn't get into the docile and horny mood she always did...
It's why I've started to position myself in front of her. It's easier to reach her breasts from there so I can ensure it all hits the pail. I also get to watch that beautiful look on her face. It's a little embarrassed but obviously happy. A little sleepy as her ancient instincts tell her to stay still while her life-giving milk is drained out for her young. She said my hands can remind her of little mouths on her breasts suckling away at her, which is probably just when I brush and pull on her nipples.
She was soon leaking into the buckets, which I left out for the skeletons to lug up later. I didn't bother to call for them too quickly, because like I said... she gets very instinctual when she's being milked. I'm just past the first bucket when I guess my cloak went at just the right angle for her. Gahren pressed her face into my crotch, licking at my pants in this very simple but affective way. I slid my pants down before she could ruin them with her thick spit and hand-sized tongue, which seems to suit her even better still. She opened her mouth and returned the favor by starting to milk me while I handled her tits.
"What a useful girl you are," I praised gently. I spared one hand from her chest to stroke her head as it tended to my cock. "So strong, healthy, useful... very worthy. Very valuable." Minotaur sweet talk is a little strange, but we've worked out that the best is encouraging her whole super-tribal mindset. She's past any crying or visible self esteem issues after avoiding her near-execution, but apparently simple, practical praise does her a lot of good. Especially when she's in her cattle mindset like this.
I grunted as the simple talk about her worth made her suck and lick even harder. She started to create a second puddle as her drool starts to drip off my cock and her lips to pile up on the dungeon floor. I end up having to brace a hand on her horn, but her sturdy build doesn't even budge from my added weight. She definitely doesn't let up on her sucking, her large mouth taking in my cock and balls entirely before I climax inside her. The oversized scavenger drinks up every drop and sucks some more until I try to ease her back. Her mouth opened dimly and she let my soaking wet cock pull back out while I get back to finishing her milking.
"Thank you," she mumbles softly.
"No, thank you," I replied just as simply. I'm not exactly the sharpest thinker myself seconds after I've lost my third load of the morning. When I'm done groping the drink out of her, I was content to just relax in the cool and refurbished dungeon with her for a while.
"LORD WILLIAM THE WISE! I COME BEARING NEWS!"
"Offff course he does," I sighed. Gahren giggled as Marcus came stomping down the steps and tried to salute. He was tall enough that his gauntletted fist clanged off the ceiling.
"I COME WITH WORD FROM THE GUILD OF GNOMES! THEY SEND REPORTS OF AN INCOMING DANGER THEY FOUND ON THEIR FANCIFUL MACHINES AND ARCANE MATHEMAGICS!" I nod, not expecting hiim to understand numbers or machinery. Even when he was alive, he was a bit of a... Marcus.
"Great..." I rub the bridge of my nose and stand back up. So much for the day off. "Where am I heading, Marcus?"
"GUILDMISTRESS YULENA WILL BE EXPECTING YOU AT 1PM TOMORROW AFTERNOON, SIR!" Another failed salute.
"Tomorrow... Marcus, just how terrible is this danger again?"
"TERRIBLY SO, SIR! AND THREE DAYS AWAY BY THEIR LATEST REPORTS!" Marcus looked up at the ceiling in thought for a moment, then reached into his breastplate to pull out a long scrap of paper like some enormous receipt. "ERR... POSSIBLY LONGER. IT ALL DEPENDS HOW OFTEN THE DRAGON PLANS ON SLEEPING."
So a gnomish guild MISTRESS, a dragon, and I get to keep my day off. NOW I'm interested.