Dawn mist clung thick to the River Murk, carrying the cold bite of dew-soaked earth and the lingering smoke of last night's watch-fires. The air tasted metallic—fear-sweat from armed men, the faint iron of old blood baked into the soil. Princess the dire boar snorted and pawed the Greyson bank, tusks gleaming, while Red Willem's roar carried across the water: final orders, voice cracked from rage and sleepless hate.
Liam waited on the Blackwater side, heart steady, cock already half-hard with anticipation. The women were his shield now—Mira's whispered signal would come any moment.
It did: the farmstead gate creaked open from within, slow and deliberate. Mira's doing. Blackwaters surged across the ford in silence, billhooks and slings ready. Greysons scrambled, shouts rising sharp. Steel rang. A dog yelped, throat opened. Princess charged, trampling one man before Marta's flung stone cracked her skull. Red Willem bellowed, swinging a massive axe—until Liam stepped forward, eyes locking with his.
Hypnosis hit like a silent wave. "Stand down. The feud ends today."
Willem froze mid-swing, axe dropping. His men faltered, gazes meeting Liam's one by one—suggestions seeded over weeks blooming instant. Weapons lowered. The valley held its breath.
No more blood. Only surrender.
By mid-morning, the farmstead's great hall smelled of cooling stew, sweat, and subdued defeat. Greysons knelt or sat dazed under hypnotic calm. Blackwaters guarded loosely, disbelief softening to relief. Red Willem stared vacant at the hearth, mind gently rewritten—hatred drained, mill rights yielded without contest.
But Liam's true victory waited upstairs, in the master bedchamber Mira had led him to "privately discuss terms." The door shut behind them, heavy oak muffling the hall's low voices. Risk hummed in the air—anyone could knock, voices carry thin through walls. Exhibitionism's edge, delicious and forbidden.
Sera was already there.
Mira's aunt by marriage, Widow Sera stood by the wide bed, black dress half-unlaced from morning chaos, massive breasts heaving with quick breaths. Her eyes—storm-gray like Mira's—met Liam's with the same hypnotic glaze, body humming from weeks of craving. The two women had spoken in whispers before he arrived, jealousy flickering… then melting into shared heat when they realized the truth: both flooded nightly for the same man. Both dripping at the mere thought of him.
Now the room thickened with their mingled scents: Mira's earthy field-sweat and faint milky sweetness, Sera's richer musk of long-neglected ripeness, arousal already blooming tangy and thick. Heavy curtains filtered sunlight into golden shafts, dust motes dancing over rumpled linens that smelled of hay, smoke, and old married nights long cold.
Liam stepped between them slowly, tension coiling eternal. "My good girls," he murmured, voice low praise that sent visible shivers down both spines. "So obedient. So ready to share."
Mira whimpered first, pressing close—her enormous breasts crushing soft against his chest, nipples stiff peaks through wool. Sera followed, plush ass brushing his thigh as she molded to his side, lips grazing his neck with hot breath.
Hands roamed gradual—his palms cupping Mira's heavy tits first, kneading slow through fabric until she moaned softly, then sliding to Sera's even larger globes, thumbs circling stiff nipples until both women arched in unison. Fabric peeled away inch by torturous inch: dresses pooling at feet, revealing ripe bodies bathed in golden light.
Mira: breasts swollen full, pale skin flushed pink, wide pink-brown areolas framing thick nipples beaded with sweat. Hips flared dramatically, thighs thick and trembling.
Sera: tits heavier still, sagging ripely with age, veined blue and capped by darker, fatter nipples already leaking faint clear beads from overstimulation's promise.
He worshipped slow—mouth descending on Mira's left breast first, tongue circling the areola in lazy spirals, tasting salt-sweet skin before sucking the nipple deep. Slow pulls, teeth grazing gentle, drawing muffled cries as her fingers tangled in his hair. Then to Sera's right—richer flavor, faint herbal trace from Elara's shared salves, nipple swelling thicker in his mouth as he nursed harder, hand kneading Mira's free breast in rhythm.
The women's moans layered soft, breathy, hands exploring each other hesitantly at first—fingers brushing hips, then bolder, cupping breasts in shared offering. Jealousy burned into possessive heat: "He's ours," Mira whispered, voice trembling as Sera answered with a husky "All ours to please."
Skirts fully hiked now, thighs parted slow. Liam dropped to knees on thick rug, face level with paradise doubled.
Mira's pussy first: plump lips swollen, pink folds glistening thick with creamy arousal, strands stretching long as Sera's fingers—guided by Liam—parted her gently. Scent flooded—tangy fertile musk, dripping fresh nectar trailing down thighs.
Sera's beside: darker outer lips framing slicker pink, juices already puddling, clit engorged and throbbing visibly.
He tasted languid—tongue dragging broad through Mira's slit first, savoring thick flood coating his tongue heavy, tangy-sweet cream. Slow circles on her clit, then spearing deep as walls fluttered welcome. Juices squirted lightly with each curl, soaking chin and rug. Sera watched, fingers circling her own clit until Liam switched—devouring her richer musk, tongue-fucking deep while thumb worked Mira's dripping entrance.
Both women came slow the first time—thighs quivering around his head in turns, pussies gushing hot nectar onto his face in pulsing waves, muffled cries harmonizing as they clutched each other for support.
He rose unhurried, cock freed—thick shaft veined, head purple and leaking precum in shiny beads. Both women sank to knees together, eyes worshipful.
"Good girls," he praised again, voice rough. "Taste how wet you've made me."
Mira took him first—lips stretching wide around thick head, tongue swirling slow as she sucked deep, saliva mixing with precum in wet slurps. Sera joined, tongue lapping his balls, then shaft as Mira pulled back—shared rhythm, mouths meeting around his length in sloppy kisses, tasting each other on him.
Tension rebuilt eternal until he pulled them up, guiding Mira onto the wide bed first—on her back, thighs spread shameless. Sera straddled her face at Liam's murmured command, possessive hands guiding.
He entered Mira slow—thick head parting slick lips with obscene wet schlick, stretching tight heat inch by inch. Walls rippled greedy, cream frothing creamy at base as he sank fully, balls nestling her clit. Sera ground down on Mira's eager tongue, massive breasts bouncing heavy as she rode slow.
Rhythm built gradual: long deep thrusts into Mira's sopping paradise, each pull-out dragging creamy strands, each plunge squelching loud over Sera's moans and wet licks below. Hands worshipped bodies—pinching nipples, kneading asses, tracing thighs.
Mira came again first—walls spasming long, squirting hard around his shaft in hot rivulets soaking sheets and thighs, cry muffled into Sera's dripping cunt.
He switched seamless—pulling out creamy-coated, guiding Sera to bend beside Mira on all fours, asses presented plush and side-by-side, pussies dripping identically pink and swollen.
Entry into Sera torturously slow—stretching her tighter heat, walls sucking deeper as Mira's fingers reached to circle Sera's clit. Thrusts alternated deliberate—deep into Sera until she shuddered, then back to Mira, comparing velvet grips, stirring shared cream.
Praise flowed constant: "Such good girls… taking me so perfectly… going to fill you both up…"
Overstimulation built—Mira squirting twice more in flooding waves, Sera following with gushing climaxes that soaked his balls heavy. Possessive growls: "Mine… both mine… no one else ever again."
Final rhythm frantic yet controlled—pounding Sera dogged until she shattered last, walls milking desperately. He buried deep in Mira for climax—roaring low as thick ropes erupted, flooding her womb pulse after pulse, seed overflowing creamy down her ass and thighs. Pulled out to paint Sera's entrance, pushing remainder inside with fingers as both women collapsed trembling.
They lay tangled slow—bodies sticky with sweat, seed, juices; scents overwhelming—rich musk, salty skin, spent passion. Breaths synced, hands stroking possessive.
The feud was over. The mill turned peaceful now, grinding only grain.
Liam's harem grew—valley matrons bound eternal, bodies craving his return, wombs aching for the breeding he'd promised next.
But whispers reached even here: a baroness northward, voluptuous and widowed, ruling lands ripe with mature beauties…