“Oh! Oh, yes! Yes! Oooh, yeaaaAAAAAAAUGGH!“

Okino drifted back into consciousness. He tried to open his eyes, but his mind felt curiously . . . fuzzy. He found he couldn’t muster the will for it. He tried to focus on his other senses, though they seemed to be afflicted by the same strange static.

He was lying on something incredibly soft. Moss? Pillows? He couldn’t tell. He could hear screaming nearby. Someone was crying out. A woman. Her cries were not of pain.

It was very cold, but feeling something warm near him, he crawled closer. Whatever it was, it was soft and smooth, and slightly wet in places. But it was hot. He wrapped his arms around it, realizing it was a body. Part of him felt bothered by that. Most of him felt bothered in the right way. His brain struggled to parse the information, but it felt like thousands of little feathers were tickling all over each nerve. He just couldn’t...couldn’t...

The body let out a soft giggle. “Mm...” Arms snaked around his naked chest. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into two bright golden orbs. A smile played across amber lips. “Ready for more, big boy?” the pretty girl purred.

He stared blankly. The room smelled . . . funny. Sweet and smoky and . . . and . . .

The pretty girl pulled him over her and wrapped her legs around his hips. He stirred feebly, trying to remember. Where was . . . who was . . .

He felt his cock hardening fast as it slipped into her warmth. Her wetness. She smiled knowingly, leaning forward and taking him in a passionate kiss. His moan was drowned out as the nearby voice screamed again. She tasted sweet. He thrust his tongue in, tasting the sweetness. It reminded him of something. Something...

Laughing, the pretty girl broke the kiss and rolled over, putting him beneath her hot body. Whispering little nothings—at least, he assumed they were nothings, because he couldn’t seem to be able to remember any of them after they entered his fuzzy head—she straddled him, rising up, pulling her wetness along his shaft. He gasped as he felt her wetness gliding upwards.

And then she came crashing down against him, a tidal wave of pleasure. He gasped as her moist walls contracted around his dick. He was so hard. So horny. He stared up at those beautiful eyes. They told him not to worry about anything. They told him to relax. Relax.

He felt himself going limp as she continued rising up and down. Limp and weak and sleepy in all but one area. His hips bucked upwards involuntarily each time she rose up, and each time he eagerly reentered her as she came down once more. She went up again and came down again, and up again and down again, and he just lay there, happily receiving the wonderful sensations. She was moaning, now, using him as her plaything despite his total inability to react. He started to moan with her. His mind was too scattered to understand why he felt so good. He just . . . did.

The pretty girl came down on him again, even faster than before. She started to vibrate, then tremble, then writhe and spasm. She pulled him up into a sitting position, kissing his lips, his neck, licking and tasting and devouring him as she squealed her ecstasy. And a moment later, he felt it too—a searing bolt of bliss erupting inside of him, like a volcano of hot, sweet syrup. He gasped and thrust into her embrace, feeling sticky honey covering his cock, feeling her delicious honey on her tongue, clouding his mind, filling him with sweetness and love for this glorious, perfect creature.

She climbed off his still ejaculating dick and leaped onto him, straddling his face. The back of his head hit the cushioned floor hard. It spun as she ground her drooling cunt against his mouth.

It took Okino a moment to realize he couldn’t breathe. He started to struggle, his gasps of joy turning into gasps of fear, his excitement turning to panic. Then he tasted it. The same sweetness, but stronger, sweeter, making every nerve in his mouth tingle and scream. And he understood.

He started to lick, hearing her shriek and cry out as he licked that sweet pussy, sucked at those swollen lips, nibbled that wet little clit. He ate her to orgasm in what felt like scant seconds, and he licked up every last drop of the ambrosia that came out. She kept screaming, but he didn’t stop. He needed more. More. She clutched his head, pushing him further into her, and he licked and lapped. He sucked her clit hungrily, nearly cumming himself at the merest residue of delicious Thriae honey.

Thriae. He paused. Why did that word sound familiar?

Behind him, he heard another scream. And then a crash. There was a moment of silence—even his pretty girl went quiet, though she kept right on fucking his face.

“Tut, tut,” a woman said. “Now look what you’ve done, you silly slave. This is why you’re too dumb to be on your own. You got so horny, you went and knocked over one of my spice racks.”

“Mm . . . sorry, Mistress.”

“Oh, now. What’s this?” Okino heard footsteps. Smooth fingers came down upon his shoulder, squeezing lightly as he continued eating his pretty girl out. “Honestly, I leave you two alone for five minutes. Okino, you silly boy, you really shouldn’t be eating any more of that. It’s no good for you, you know. So much sugar.” He felt a powerful force suddenly seize his arms, binding them to his sides. As if he could move them anyways. His head was still spinning. The pretty girl’s pussy was wrested off of his still-licking tongue as she herself went flying out of sight.

He saw a pair of bright green eyes staring down at him. Those eyes belonged to the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Ytheri.

His face, covered in Thriae honey, broke into a wide, stupid grin. “Ytheri,” he whispered, his heart filling with adoration at the very sound of her name. “Ytheri.” It felt so good to say her name. Everything about her felt good.

She gave him an indulgent smile back. “That’s right,” she cooed. She grasped his shoulder, pulling him up into a kneeling position. “Are you feeling better? You were so confused a few moments ago.”

He shook his head, certain of only one thing. “I love you, Ytheri.”

“Oh, Okino.” She stroked his shoulder lovingly. With her other hand, she trailed a thumb over his face. She stuck it into his mouth. Tasting the honey on it, he sucked her thumb eagerly. “What ever am I going to do with you? I already have a psychopomp and a Thriae. They’ll give me all the pleasure I could ever need, and they’ll last for months, at least.”

She pulled the thumb out with a plopping sound, cupping his chin in sharp-nailed fingers. “I don’t need another sex toy. You’re cute, but a human can only do . . . mm . . .” She wriggled her hips. “So much. You would not believe how good a psychopomp’s tongue feels between your legs.”

He blinked.

She winked. “Then again, you’d believe anything I told you, wouldn’t you?” Before he could answer, she beckoned. “Follow me, Okino. Stay on your hands and knees—in fact, I think you’re going to forget how to walk for a while.” Her eyes glimmered with energy, and he couldn’t even try to resist being drawn in. It felt so good to do as she willed. “It’s just so hard to stand, and you’re just so horny, how could you ever manage?”

He nodded. She patted his cheek. “So deliciously empty. I love it when my slaves are like this.”

She turned and started walking. He crawled after. Okino could vaguely remember being able to walk once, but it just seemed so hard, looking back. It made him tired just thinking about it. And he couldn’t possibly walk when he was so tired.

They walked through a hallway decorated with lavish tapestries. He recognized some of them as being of local make. Others were more exotic. More than a few bore a style he thought he recognized. “Ch-Chosen?”

She looked back at him, seeming delighted. “Very good!” He felt a little burst of joy at the praise. “Good boy. Keep speaking all those silly ideas, just like they taught you. The faster you speak them, the faster they’ll leave your simply little head.”

He blinked and shook his head confusedly. That wasn’t how talking worked. He still remembered . . . something. He certainly didn’t remember being ‘taught’. He felt like he’d been asleep for the last few days, at least. One couldn’t learn anything while asleep.

He shook his head again. Whatever it was, it wasn’t important. Ytheri was right about everything. His cock gave a little throb at the obedient thought. It was better to listen to her.

“In fact,” she was saying, “I hail from that region before the Chosen took it over. It used to be quite a nice place, actually.” Something in her voice sounded almost upset. Okino frowned. It hurt to hear his Ytheri hurt. “Then . . . well, then things happened, and now I don’t deal with petty politics. Like your cute little war with those bee girls!” She laughed, and his own smile returned. All was well. “Come, Okino! And don’t hesitate to keep emptying your head. The emptier it gets, the more love for me you can feel.”

That was so true. They walked down the corridor, and Okino took pains to remark on every single thing he saw—until Ytheri frowned again and told him he could stop for now. Aside from tapestries, there were quite a large number of spice racks. At first, he’d thought they were something else, but then he’d said it aloud and forgotten it. Ytheri had told him they were cooking spices. They were spice racks.

Ytheri led him into another lounge area. “Alright,” she said, smiling, “I’ve made up my mind. Here’s what I think I shall do with you. I’m a fun-loving sort of sorcerer, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” She trailed a little finger across his forehead and brought it up to her face, sucking off the honey between her pretty green lips. “Humans aren’t good at much, but we’re better at resisting what I do to you than fey. Fey.” She snorted. “So high-and-mighty, but so easily controlled by someone who knows what she’s doing. They’re really just animals.”

He stared up at her, remembering the lust in the Thriae who had captured him. But he’d been taken by them. He’d hungered for them. If they were animals, what was he?

“I love a challenge,” Ytheri went on, chuckling. “I catch fey every now and then, but it’s really no better than going to a sprite pit when you’re me: Instant gratification—and they are good at gratification—but nothing really interesting. My Kuolema was a darling little challenge, but I think I’ve all-but curbed her spirit at this point. Soon, I will be mistress of life and death.” She giggled.

She paused a moment, then gestured. He found himself crawling over and up into a large comfy chair. He lay there. Ytheri sauntered over, and her hand began to travel up his leg.

“You see,” she said, “I don’t want to die. I never want to die.” He could relate. He didn’t want Ytheri to die either. “So I cast a spell to literally let me see death. And when I got stung by a sandcancer hornet last year...well, I saw Kuolema.”

Her fingers wrapped around his shaft. He felt magic coursing through him, filling him with renewed vigor. Slowly, she began to stroke along it. “I was going to just kill the agent, but when it looks like that? Oh, I had to have her. And I’m so glad I did, because she’s ever-so-useful. She’s the one who told me I would soon have visitors.”

Her hand began to speed up. He let out a low moan. She smiled down at him. “Feeling good?” she asked.

“Unnnh...” He bucked up feebly.

“Oh, yes.” She laughed delightedly. “You’re still exhausted. Just a helpless toy for me to play with. You were a fly in the Thriae’s sticky jar of honey. Well, guess what?” She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “You’re in my web now.”

Her tongue darted out at his neck. He gasped with pleasure as the fingers crackled with magical energy, infusing his cock with...something. “And I’m gonna turn your insides to ooey-gooey pleasure for me.”

Okino moaned louder. She laughed, sitting down next to him. Her wide hips pressed into his as she continued to stroke him. Oh, gods, everything in his body was just...

. . . melting . . .

He spent what felt like ten minutes sinking into the soft chair, held against his owner, feeling her slow, inescapable pleasures overwhelm every cell of his body. After a while, she turned, and he felt her voluptuous form press against his shoulder.

“I got distracted,” she whispered. “I was talking about my plans for you.” She gave his cock an extra squeeze. A little dribble of precum leaked out. “We humans have stronger, hardier wills. You don’t know what you really want.” He could feel the orgasm growing. “Fortunately . . . I do.“

He was about to cum. He gasped, feeling the pleasure growing, growing...

Growing . . .

He whimpered. Just when he’d thought he’d been approaching a precipice, it had climbed just a little bit higher. And it was going higher. He couldn’t . . . couldn’t . . .

“I’m gonna use you as a little game for me and my pets,” Mistress cooed, her voice tickling his ear. “A tool to teach Kuolema and my little honey maid their place. You’ll be theirs. They’ll be yours. And you’ll all be . . .?”

“Yours!” he whimpered, physically shaking in the chair.

She leaned into him. Her breasts were soft and warm beneath that silky dress. “That’s right! And I’m gonna slowly chip away at your resistance. I won’t lie with you, of course—too easy—but I’ll have fun every now and then. I’ll break you down to base components. I give you a week, tops.”

She began to trail her finger up and down his throbbing cock, and the magic scorched his mind. His nervous system went wild. It was like a million fingers. No, a thousand tongues. “I’ll just . . . take and take until everything left in your head is soft and tasty and squishy and empty. Won’t that be nice?”

“Uhh . . . aaah . . . y-yes...”

“Good boy!” She giggled. The finger sped up. He felt the magic coursing through his mind, felt the pleasure centers lighting up like brilliant bonfires. “And once you’re totally ours . . .” She turned his face towards hers. Her lips brushed against his as she whispered her next words. “You won’t care what we do with you. Maybe I’ll give you to the Thriae. Maybe I’ll sell you to nymphs. Ooh, wouldn’t that be nice? Nymphs are ever-so-cruel with their mortal toys.” He began to buck, in spite of her commands. She laughed, totally devoid of pity of mercy. “But all in good time. When I kiss you, my slave, you will come. And afterwards . . . mm . . . every program and command I’ve put in you, every splinter, every ounce of poison, will vanish. You’ll be free!”

“Wh—” He was cut off as she seized him in a kiss of pure, unbridled lust. She ripped through the last of his will with her lips and tongue, leaving her indelible mark on his mind. He could only gasp and moan as she clutched him, gasping and moaning herself. She sounded like she was having an unbelievably powerful orgasm.

And then he was too.

He couldn’t even scream. This pleasure went beyond that. His mind and will were empty, now, and in their place was pure, blazing love. Love for his mistress. He gazed at her lusty eyes with total adoration, letting out a whispery sigh as the obedience rushed through his body.

She broke off the kiss. He fell back against the chair, still awash in bliss, still thrashing and bucking into empty air.

She smirked at him. “And let us begin to play.”

* * *

Yathi leveled her crossbow at the meadbrewer in front of her. “Get back!” she snarled.

The nubile blonde didn’t seem concerned. She smiled, twirling one of those fluidsteel shields that were all the rage these days. Her beestung lips—Yathi privately congratulated herself on developing a sense of humor equal in maturity to Ia’s—pursed as she blew a kiss. “Oh my gosh, you’re even sexier up close. I can’t believe it.”

Yathi didn’t dare waste her shot. Those shields were a pain and a half.

Her fingers tapped against the butt of the crossbow. An old nervous habit. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brist backing away from a pair of fey. Colorful red crystals danced in his fingers as he readied a spell. Nearby, Ia was leaping from rock to rock, swinging some sort of club at the increasingly irritated Thriae that pursued her. She couldn’t see Okino or Trys, and she couldn’t hear them, either.

The air was filled with buzzing.

Yathi had always known that the Thriae were more dangerous in groups. A Thriae could choose to emit a loud buzzing from her body—a sort of innate magic that became more and more potent with more Thriae joining in. But she had never heard the buzzing of six Thriae at once. She’d never even heard of anyone withstanding that many at once.

It made her think of the buzz of a vibrating runerod. It made her flush that that was the first thing that came to mind. The buzzing didn’t exactly fill her head, but it was there, flitting under her skin, underneath everything, breaking her concentration with its tickling insistence.

And she needed her full concentration to be on resisting this. Yathi’s foe was a deeply tanned blonde beauty. Those yellow eyes were wide and radiant, twin suns burning their way into Yathi’s suddenly very vulnerable mind. She had two pairs of delicate wings flapping from her back, each the size of an ironing board and the depth of a snake’s scale. Her lips were the same amber shade as her eyes. She swung her those ridiculously wide waspish hips of hers, giving a wide, sunny beam. “I mean, like, we knew you were sexy, but we didn’t know you were drop. Dead. Delicious.” She rolled her hips on each emphasized word. Her breasts jiggled with every hip sway. Her voice was like . . . like sweet, sensuous syrup . . .

Yathi found herself lost in the motions. The bouncing of the breasts, barely covered by that scant armor. The swaying of the hips. She had never been especially attracted to women, but you had to be a Cloistermage to not be attracted to a Thriae. Especially one who was so . . .

. . . so . . .

“Okino!” she heard Trys bark. “Snap out of it!”

It was like the battle sped up in her mind to catch up with reality. Brist had loosed a pair of fireballs, both missing. Ia had clubbed her pursuant over the head, though this had only slowed them down. She heard steel clashing against steel. Trys ran by, cutting three honey-tipped arrows out of the air before they could strike Brist’s shouldeer.

She registered last the most important detail: The Thriae she’d been facing had stepped forward, slipped those long, slender fingers around Yathi’s crossbow, and gently pointed the crossbow over both their heads.

Yathi’s eyes widened as the trance faded. She tried to jerk away, but the meadbrewer held on, grinning. “Oh, no you don’t! Just relax! Listen to the buzzing!” As Yathi struggled with both hands, she felt the fey’s fingers by her head, brushing some stray dark hairs from her eyes. She blinked.

“Look in her eyes,” cooed a voice from behind her. “Looook.”

She tried to turn around, but two smooth hands suddenly grabbed onto either side of her head and forced her to face straight ahead. Two other hands gripped her hips, running loving caresses over her in her form-fitting armor. She realized she was being flanked by two. Two! What had she done to merit . . .

She blinked. The Thriae’s eyes really were beautiful. Like flowing oceans of honey. No distracting pupils. Hardly any whites. Just twin suns. Her smile was really pretty, but those eyes were what captivated her. Captured her.

Oh, fuck. She was captured. She needed to look away.

She couldn’t look away. Her mouth was hanging open, she knew—an unspeakably dangerous state to be in around meadbrewers. But those eyes . . .

The buzzing felt like it was getting louder. She felt like she needed to do something. But just as that independent thought came to her, the crossbow was wrested out of her loose grip, and the independent thought became impossible to fulfill.

The Thriae was smiling at her. “What a good girl!” She leaned in and planted a kiss on Yathi’s lips. The kiss started out chaste, and quickly turned into something longer, something devouring. All the while, the eyes watched her. She was naked before them, and she subconsciously decided that that was a very good state to be in right now.

“Open wide,” hissed the other Thriae. Yathi felt her mouth opening, and felt the tongue slip in. She could taste the sweet honey now. That was what she’d been seeing this whole time in their eyes. It was what she’d heard in their syrupy voices. It tasted even better on her tongue.

She felt her knees slowly buckling. Luckily, both Thriae were eager to help her down. She giggled, glad that they were there to help her. They leaned her against a boulder.

The Thriae broke off the kiss. Yathi stared up at them dazedly. With the swirling mists above them, they looked like twin suns themselves. They were exchanging knowing looks. Yathi’s tongue tingled as she felt herself swallow. Something warm and sweet slipped down into her.

She squirmed, realizing right then that she was extremely wet. It was becoming impossible to ignore. She gasped, full of a sudden, burning, melting need to be out of this tight-fitting leather. And into the arms of a Thriae.

Each one slowly drew out a little clay pitcher. They paused, giggling, then looked down at her expectantly.

She found herself giggling, too. She felt all silly inside. All silly and gooey and sweet and good. The scout’s legs spread wide as she began to undo her lower armor, feeling a sticky, syrupy certainty that this was the most right, most perfect thing she would ever do.

“Open wide,” cooed the one she had originally faced, crouching down and holding out the pitcher. The pitcher hovered above her, its lip dipping tantalizingly close, a droplet of honey appearing on the end right above Yathi’s mouth.

Yathi beamed and did as she was told. Her eyes closed as she felt the first droplets of delicious honey touch her buzzing tongue.

* * *

Yathi’s eyes flew open. It took her a moment to realize her hands were both between her legs.

“Yathi?” A dark shape leaned into view. Yathi dimly registered that she was lying on the ground. She was still naked, though a blanket had been draped over her—Trys’s coat, she realized. “Are you . . . you?”

She blinked. What a strange question. She stroked her clit to keep her focus as she made out who was addressing her: Brist. The dark-skinned mage’s wild white hair was covered in dust, as though he’d been lying on the ground just like her.

Brist really was kind of cute, if you could get past his sharp-and-sheepish manner. She had the vague recollection of a large cock under those robes of his, too—though any cock would be big when it had that much honey on it. And it had had honey on it, she knew. She’d tasted . . .

“Yathi?” Brist bit his lip. “Yathi!”

Yathi’s mind fell back to the present. She blinked up at Brist, giving a dull smile. Her eyelids felt so heavy. ” . . . what?”

“She’s out of it, Bristles,” she heard Ia say. “Look at her. They got her.”

“We don’t know that!” Brist snapped. “Trys spent years among them, and she made it back out! In fact, in case you haven’t noticed, Trys is the only reason we’re free right now.”

Yathi squinted. A niggling little voice was telling her that something about this conversation was important to listen to. But her pussy was a lot louder. And it purred at her. It told her that only one thing mattered right now.

“Yathi.” Brist moved out of the way. Yathi felt her eyes closing—just before someone grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Yathi!” Trys snarled. “Listen to me!”

Yathi’s eyes shot open. She stared up at Trys. The blonde warrior’s armor was on, but she could still tell that there was an impressive bosom in there. And those golden locks . . . If Yathi didn’t look too closely, she could almost believe Trys was one of the Thriae. One of the gorgeous creatures that had been fucking her almost nonstop ever since they’d captured her. Her eyes were even the same shade of brilliant yellow.

Just like Yathi’s own probably were now.

A dim memory flickered to life. She remembered volunteering for the knighthood. Remembered the recruiter’s advances. She’d always hated how everyone focused on her pretty face.

“It’s not who I am,“ she remembered saying then. “I’m more than that. I’m . . . I’m a knight. I’m a tracker. Now put your dick back in your pants before I cut it off and feed it to my pig.”

She had been rejected three times before being allowed into the order. Rising in the ranks had been equally difficult—her temper crossed with her beauty had always seemed to get her into trouble. Apparently, hating people made it difficult to advance in any field, especially when three-quarters of them were determined to bang her.

“You’re really hot, Trys,” she mumbled.

“I know that,” Trys said seriously. “How about you take your fingers out of your vagina now, so we can talk about this?”

Yathi blinked. She stared up into Trys’s golden eyes and found herself obeying. She wasn’t sure if it was by an act of willpower, or simply Trys’s resemblance to Yathi’s recent owners causing Yathi’s programmed obedience to . . .

“What happened?” she managed, as she brought her hands up to her breasts. Idly, they started fidgeting, tweaking her nipples and squeezing her breasts. It felt so awful to pull herself out of that sticky joy. This seemed like a compromise.

Trys grimaced. She lifted Yathi up, as easily as one might lift a sack of feathers, and propped her against a boulder. Yathi found herself in a position that was almost like sitting. It did make the blanket fall down, exposing her naked breasts for all to see, but that didn’t bother her much right now for some reason.

“We lost,” Ia said. The 19-year-old warrior was crouched like a gargoyle atop a nearby dead log. That sling of hers was still gripped in one hand, as if she was still expecting a fight. Her unkempt dark hair’s ponytail had been all-but abandoned. Yathi stared openly at her toned thighs as she realized that the messy knight’s pants had mysteriously vanished. She was dressed only in a pair of striking red panties with a strange tentacle design. “We lost bad.”

“You lost your pants,” Yathi said, almost in wonder.

Ia pursed her lips. “Casualties of war.”

Yathi frowned. It was all so . . . absurd. She turned to Brist, who was, characteristically, wringing his hands and trying not to look at her breasts. She gently stroked one nipple as she spoke. “Brist. You, ah, you remember?”

Brist’s face was flushed. He gave a little shrug.

Yathi could still taste the honey in her mouth. She knew some of it had come from sucking on his long-tormented member. She’d watched them toy with him in his sleep. The few times her face wasn’t being shoved between someone’s thighs, at least.

They’d awoken her the second they’d landed. They hadn’t been able to resist her. They’d fought over her. The looks in their eyes, of hunger, of need . . . And for once, Yathi was having trouble remembering why she hated this sort of thing.

“How did we get away?” she asked.

“Trys.” Brist gestured to his fellow knight, who was, Yathi noticed, watching Yathi with a great deal of interest. “She got away when we were captured. She came back for us. I couldn’t believe it, either.”

Trys gave a short laugh. “Couldn’t believe you were saved, or couldn’t believe I would risk coming back?”

“Um . . . the first one.”

“Right.” Trys gestured to Ia. “She did more than I did, honestly. I just carried people. Ia, you . . . ’trolled’ them? That the word you used?”

“Yes,” Ia chirped. “Is from an old tall tale, see? You can supposedly trick trolls into staying outside past daybreak if you get ’em distracted arguing. So according to the story, three trolls are actually less dangerous than one ’cause of that.” She giggled. “So I trolled the meadbrewers. I mean, kinda.”

Yathi gave two slow blinks. Everything was so hard to understand right now. She was so distracted! She stroked both nipples, feeling the weight of each breast in her hands. She wondered why. “What are you . . . saying?”

“A squeeze there. A lick there.” Ia shrugged. “They were all pretty distracted by you and Brist. One Thriae thought one of her lady friends was tickling her thigh, and when she got that idea into her heads, she couldn’t help but try to ‘get even’.”

Trys nodded, seeming interested. “’Trolling’. That’s a new one. My parents—they owned an inn—called that the Barfight Principle. When someone’s itching for a, uh, fight, and you give them a ‘shove’, they’ll ‘shove’ back without pausing to work out who did it.”

Yathi’s eyes screwed shut. “Oh.” She was imagining Ia—a sloppy, messy knight, but also a young woman with a fit, supple body and hands that spoke of a talent for taking charge—teasing the Thriae, tempting them into fucking each other, building their lust until they couldn’t help but dissolve into a messy pile of sex-crazed bimbos . . .

And they had, she dimly recalled. She’d heard them moaning as Ia had dragged her off Brist’s cock. A big pile of sweaty, beautiful fey fucking each others’ brains out.

“S-so,” she whispered, “you distracted them. We escaped. What now?”

The others stared at her. They didn’t say anything. Brist looked embarrassed and worried, Trys looked slightly annoyed, and Ia had a big grin on her face.

Yathi followed Ia’s gaze. “Oh.” Her insidious little fingers had crept downward again and were fingering her wet pussy lips. “Oops.”

Oh, but it felt so good. She found herself smiling slightly. There was no harm in it, really. As long as she kept focused. “S-so what now?” she repeated, eyes half-closing. “Where’s . . . Okino?”

Again, nobody spoke. This time, that was answer enough. There was a moment where the only sound was the blowing of the hoarse winds above—that, and the slippery squelching of her fingers below.

She let out a small giggle. Not a meanspirited one. Not one over anything especially funny, either. She hadn’t liked Okino. All her life, people had always been more interested in her body than she wanted them to be, and he’d been even more blatant than most. She knew quite well why he had brought her along on this mission.

That didn’t mean she’d wanted him to become a wretched honey sprite. “So they still have him.”

“They gave him to Ytheri,” she heard Trys say, her voice distant. “A savant sorceress of . . . something of a reputation.”

“She’s an archmage,” Brist said. He sounded like he was on more comfortable ground here. “And one of the few who’s not in the pocket of some political or corporate organization. They say she’s more fey than human.”

“Oh, she’s very human,” Trys said. “But she masters fey. Now she’s mastering Okino.”

“Oh.” Yathi’s spine arched slightly. She was finding that her orgasms were coming a little bit differently from usual. Instead of a long buildup to a massive payoff, they were all very small, but very rapid. It felt like every stroke of her slick fingers led to another little cry of joy from her lovely little clit. A part of her sensed that she would only achieve true orgasm—true satisfaction—in the hands of a meadbrewer as her mistress.

But that would be wrong, right?

She tried to blink back the fuzz that was encroaching on her vision, but blinking only made her feel warmer and fuzzier. The little orgasms were coming quicker, now, swarming her, drowning her in incessant sparks of ecstasy. She wanted more. More. She imagined Tsimpi, gorgeous, big-breasted, sugar-tongued Tsimpi, and let out a long moan.

“S-so we lost Okino,” she said, gasping from the sheer effort of human speech. She needed to stop masturbating before she passed out, and she would. Soon. Definitely soon.

She smiled at the others, finding herself unable to remember what she’d just said. She looked at Brist, remembering his shaft between her lips. It had felt so good to suck and slurp at that cock. The Thriae had told her it did, so it did. It still would, she knew, if she could convince him to let her do it again.

She licked her lips.

Brist visibly gulped.

“Yeah,” Ia said, sounding annoyed, “we lost him. And it, well, looks like we lost you, too.”

Yathi didn’t quite hear her. She was experiencing something between dream and fantasy. She could see one of the pretty blonde girls who had so recently ravished her crouched at her side. The girl was flicking that honeyed tongue over Yathi’s nipples, looking up at her with adoring, lust-filled eyes. Yathi could only barely register that this feeling was her own fingers, not the vision of the Thriae. That awareness was rapidly losing ground to the delightful fuzz.

“Didn’t lose her,” Trys said. Her voice sounded so garbled. Yathi giggled at the sound, then giggled as fingers (Her own? Or her vision’s?) tickled her flat belly. “She’s in the first stage. There are three. I’m in it, too, and so is Ia, sort of.”

“Ia is?” Brist sounded surprised. The words took a moment to cut through Yathi’s fugue, but when they did fade back into her consciousness, she blinked. She knew Trys had been captured once—and was momentarily lost in the daydream of her vision wrestling Trys to the ground and tonguing her wet slit right there in front of them all—but she hadn’t known Ia had fallen victim to the creatures. She frowned. She’s . . so young.

A pinprick of Yathi shone through, burning away the fuzz for a moment. The hallucination of the Thriae woman vanished. Her masturbation didn’t slow, though, and neither did the rapid ‘comings and goings’.

“Well, sort of.” Ia coughed. She looked . . . not exactly embarrassed, because Ia was never embarrassed, but clearly uncomfortable talking about this. “I’m nineteen, so I was young enough to get that inoculation the city got so excited about two winters back.” No, not uncomfortable. Disinterested. This was boring to Ia. “Uh, supposedly, it makes us . . . immune. To mind control. Or the Thriae mind control, and the honey, and most other kinds.”

“Immune?” Brist snorted. “You went down the second they splashed the honey on you. I kept fighting a full minute after.”

“Uh, might wanna check that again,” Trys said. She gave a funny little laugh. “Brist, you kept fighting for five seconds, looked kinda sleepy for five more, then swooned when one of them pranced up and started pouring a pitcher’s worth in you.”

Brist stared blankly at her. “What? But it—it felt—”

“It feels longer,” Yathi mumbled. The talk was turning back to the control, and she was starting to get dozy again. Just the thought of the Thriae splashing honey around was strangely erotic to her now. And the thought of Brist, held in one of the sweet women’s arms, obediently drinking down a jar full of that wondrous nectar . . . “It feels longer, but you break so easily.”

They all glanced back at her. She looked back up at them, eyes half-lidded. She felt so tired. And it felt so good to just keep drowning herself. She was swimming in pleasure. Maybe if she closed her eyes, she’d wake up back with Tsimpi and the others . . .

“I faked,” Ia said, her voice high-pitched and chipper. “And don’t look at me like that, Brist, I did it for the same reason Trys ran. We were losing. So I faked it so they wouldn’t beat me down or kill me.”

Yathi did stop masturbating now. She frowned up at Ia. “Kill?” She couldn’t quite muster a full sentence. The fog was too thick. But surely the Thriae wouldn’t kill anyone. They were so sexy, and sweet, and . . . sweet . . .

“The Thriae are mean bastards,” Trys said. The warrior fixed her with a stern look. “Don’t forget that, Yathi. They’ve fucked us all up.” She turned to Brist. “You drank their mead. You aren’t in the first stage, but you’re on the steps leading up to it. I saw what you did with Yathi. You gave in. All the way.” She sounded bitter. “It’s not your fault, but it happened. Be careful. That mead doesn’t stay in you like nymph juices, but it doesn’t exactly leave, either.”

“I’m not fucked up,” Ia said proudly. “I mean, no more than that ‘cure’ already fucked me up.”

Yathi found herself sitting up a bit straighter. She took her hand out and lowered it to her side. She didn’t speak. None of them were looking at her now.

“The cure has side effects,” Trys was explaining to Brist. “It basically froze her in the first stage. She won’t progress, but she’s . . . Well, let’s just say there’s a reason the town had that ‘Toy Boom’ around the same time the inoculation came out. Triples the sex drive. It’s fucked up that they give it to minors, but it only works on people still in puberty.

“Still a lot better than what happened to Yathi.” Trys’s voice sounded a little dead on the last word. She leaned forward and gripped Brist and Ia by the shoulders. “So what’s next? We’re going to continue on the mission. We’re going to get to the central hive. We’re going to do what Okino planned and end this war, or become honey sprites trying. The three of us—”

“Four.” They turned. Yathi was standing now. The nude scout held her crossbow in a hand still slick with her own juices, but she carried herself with all the pride of a Knight of the City. “I’m coming with you guys.”

They stared at her, unblinking. Trys slowly shook her head. “Yathi, you’re in the first stage. Maybe even the second. They . . . they fucked your brains out. I don’t know why—”

“Yes, you do,” Yathi and Ia said at the same time. They exchanged looks. Yathi knew more than the others did about it, but they all knew quite well why the meadbrewers had favored her.

“I need to go with you,” Yathi said. “Even if I hit the second stage. Hell, even if I go all the way to the third. You still need a scout, and I’m the best you’ve got.” She pointed the crossbow right at Trys. “Trys, you’re in the first stage too.”

“I have training. Meditation. Years of . . . ” Trys flushed. “I can handle myself.”

“Well, I can’t.” Yathi raised the crossbow and cocked it. She narrowed her eyes. “But you still need a scout.”

* * *

“P-please, Tsimpi—”

“Hush.”

“Oh, Tsimpi—“

“Zip it.”

On any other day, at any other time, the sounds of her commanding officer begging her like this—right in front of the rank-and-file, even!—would have made Tsimpi giggle like a schoolgirl. She’d been training and programming Kentri for years and years to fall into a delicate balance: Free-willed enough to be guilty, to be able to fight to feign control in front of the women, but whipped enough to break down from the slightest ounce of ‘pressure’ when Tsimpi wanted her to.

But this wasn’t an ordinary day. Today, things had gone wrong. And since Kentri was the one who actually knew how to command a patrol, it was kind of important that Kentri get a damn hold of herself.

Kentri looked at her with wide, pathetic, puppy-dog eyes. Her blond curls framed a gorgeous, kissable face, and Tsimpi knew there was a real risk that Kentri would start trying to tempt her into fucking her. Tsimpi had been fucked plenty of times today, but she was always vulnerable, and Kentri knew just what buttons to push. So Tsimpi grabbed Kentri by the arm, right in front of the three privates, and shook her. “Get ahold of yourself, ma’am!”

For once, she said the word “ma’am” without a hint of sarcasm. That wasn’t easy with someone as adorably pathetic as Kentri.

Kentri winced. Her eyes seemed to clear a little, though. Desperately, Tsimpi turned and gestured to one of the women—dimwitted Kifina would do fine—to start licking their Fearless Leader out. Anything to give her some brief relief. Tsimpi would punish her for cumming without permission later.

Kifina beamed and bounced over with a titter. She dropped to all fours, bounteous breasts bouncing from the rapidness of the motion, and dove into her task with gusto. Tsimpi couldn’t help but watch and smile. Good old Private Kifina. Always useful for something.

“So,” she said sweetly to Kentri, “what now?”

Kentri gasped. Her hands thrust down, grabbing Kifina by her wavy golden locks and grinding her hips against that pretty face. “W-we need to get back to the Hive.”

“Really?” Tsimpi frowned, careful not to make her question sound like one of her subtle ‘suggestions’. Sometimes Kentri could be really sensitive to such things, but she really was asking this time. “But we lost all four of our prisoners. Five, if you count the boytoy.”

“Y-yes.” Kentri smiled. “But they—mm, yes—they’ll follow us. That’s their mission.”

“How do you know that?”

“Why else would they be out here?” Kentri laughed—a laugh that transformed halfway through into a throaty moan. Kifina was definitely getting the job done. “They’ll follow because that ‘Yathi’ chugged enough mead to turn a Cloistermage. She doesn’t know it, but she’s already as good as ours.”

“First stage?” asked one of the others, who had apparently interpreted Tsimpi’s conversational manner with Kentri as a sign that it was open call for all the privates to start questioning their commanding officer. Tsimpi shot her a stern look.

“Oh, second. Oh. Second.” Kentri nodded eagerly. “They never realize it at first. Never. Never.” She was starting to pant. Tsimpi held onto her arm, now steadying her fellow Thriae so she wouldn’t totally collapse. “Still think there are only three stages, the poor darlings. But she’ll follow.” She smirked. “And they will, too. We’ll return to the Hive to make our report, as planned. The accursed city is almost surrounded.”

“It won’t look good,” Tsimpi said. “Us losing a private to Ytheri. Coming back without any captives.”

“Oh . . . We’ll have captives. Ooh, yes.” Kentri giggled. Then her eyes widened. Her muscles tensed. “Ooh. Ooh. OOOOH!” She started to buck and scream. Amid those screams, however, was one last order. Tsimpi listened patiently, barely keeping from masturbating right there in front of Kentri. But she knew that if Kentri saw her do that, there would be no hope for either of them for hours.

The Thriae set out at once, departing from the miserable Crags and continuing through a short patch of dark forest. Beyond that forest lay the undisputed domain of the Thriae, but first, they would pay a visit to some old friends. These friends were not fey, technically, but they were friendly enough with the Thriae to do them the odd favor. And friendly enough with the humans—in a very different, much more fun way—to keep them from having any qualms about what Kentri was going to ask them to do.

Tsimpi couldn’t wait to introduce their ‘pursuers’ to the Druids of the Western Evergreen.