Trys knew she had a broad smile on her face. She also knew why.

She had never been so happy in all her life.

She’d been putting off masturbation for hours up until now. Now she didn’t have to. She couldn’t even remember why she’d been delaying—how could she, when she was always so horny? The Thriae had made her so perfectly horny. How could she ever pass that gift up? It felt so right to jill herself off right next to her two teammates. So right and good and sticky and natural. So... sweet.

She stared into the fragrant thistle, studying its spirals. They drew her in like a candle to a moth. Er, like a flame to a candle. No. She giggled faintly. She was a bit out of it right now, for some reason. Her finger played over her clit, and she savored its slow, careful attentions.

It was important to edge herself, she knew. Something told her that was key. It felt so, so good to stay on the edge as she stared into the spirals. She knew that eventually, she would reach the bottom of the spiral, and then she could come. Eventually.

Eventually.

She ran her finger over her clit, stroking very gently, and watched the spirals. Eventually.

So immersed was she in this slow pleasure, it wasn’t too hard to tune out Yathi. But it was hard. Trys was moaning, of course, and she could hear Brist and Yathi moaning, too. She knew Yathi was still trying to recover from the influence of all that tasty mead. She giggled, remembering how she had been when she’d first been exposed. It had been so simply. So sweet. So easy to just lie in her bed and masturbate, to beg her Thriae mistress for more. She had wanted nothing but to serve. To become a nice, sweet-hearted little honey sprite, a drone for her beloved owners.

Yathi was feeling like that now, and something about that made Trys so happy. She was a bit guilty about that.

But how could she help it? Yathi was so, so beautiful. Amazingly beautiful. Supernaturally beautiful. Trys could almost come just listening to that sexy, nubile rogue edging herself to madness. Yathi was so desperate... so needy... Trys fantasized about leaning over, about licking her sweet companion out until she screamed...

But that would be wrong.

Right?

At any rate, it would force her to look aay from the flower. And Trys needed to watch the spirals. She would be allowed to cum soon, after all. Soon.

After what felt like only a few seconds of edging, Trys felt like a sweaty, gasping mess, almost overwhelmed with frustrating pleasure. Surely it had only been a few seconds. The spiral had only gone around a few times, Trys was sure. Soon. Soon.

Trys felt something long and slick wrapping around her ankle, but kneeling on the ground as she was, she paid it no mind. It did not interfere with edging. She needed to edge. Needed to be a good, sweet girl.

Then another something wrapped around her other ankle. This, too, was unimportant. Trys needed to edge. Needed to watch the spirals. Needed to listen to Yathi torment herself. Needed to be good. Docile. Pliant. Obedient.

Then a vine wrapped around Trys’s left arm, and this was a bit of a problem. Oh well. She now only had one hand to edge herself with, and could no longer fondle her breasts while she frigged herself. Oh well.

Then a fourth vine started to wrap around Trys’s chest. Trys moaned, feeling its smooth, slick length graze over her nipples. That... That wasn’t a problem at all. That was very much... appreciated.

Then a fifth vine wrapped around Trys’s right arm, and that. That was a problem.

But Trys only had time to mumble a feeble, “Mm?” before she was suddenly yanked backwards with a shriek.

She heard Yathi fly back, too, and realized they were both being pulled in the same direction. At least we’ll be together, she thought, not altogether nobly.

Her mind was beginning to clear, and she fought like a caged devil. It was no use. The green vines were thick and woody, and sinewy enough to avoid being snapped or bruised. Trys’s struggles almost got her clocked over the head by a low-hanging branch, and so she went limp and allowed herself to be dragged across the lush green grass. She could barely make out Brist, all the way back there in the thistle patch, before bushes obscured her view. It was almost like the plants were moving to obscure him. Surround him.

But maybe Trys was just disoriented.

She only spared a passing thought to her knife. That knife was in the pants she’d pulled down to her ankles a moment... minute... hour ago? And those pants were gone. So she just hung limply, dangling like a pig on a stick, and waited for their flight to slow. From the sounds of things, Yathi was doing the same, though Yathi had been grabbed first and was a little bit above Trys, out of sight.

“You okay, Yathi?” Trys called up.

A hoarse cry of frustration—both normal and sexual—was Trys’s only reply.

After about half a minute, the vines’ long journey seemed to slow. Trys was astounded at how long the vines appeared to stretch. They were in a completely different part of the forest now, and rapidly descending toward what Trys initially took for something like a blackberry patch. But no, it was much stranger than that.

Trys was looking at a massive, house-sized mass of vines just like the ones that now held Trys and Yathi captive.

And Trys could hear moaning from within that mass.

The vines slowed to a gentle pace. Yathi and Trys swung a little as their path normalized. Trys realized they were about to be lowered directly into the mass.

“Yathi,” she whispered urgently. “Have you got any of your knives?”

“Only two,” Yathi muttered. She was very well trussed-up, Trys realized—it looked like no fewer than ten vines held her upside-down. Her face was bright red and shiny with sweat—as, Trys supposed, her own must have been. “One’s too small. The other’s in my boot.” She indicated with her eyes her right foot, which was, like her left, held completely spread from the rest of her body.

Trys realized just how sexually the vines were holding Yathi—her pussy was on full display thanks to how spread her legs were. It couldn’t be comfortable.

But damn, it was pleasant to look at.

Trys tore her gaze away, biting her lip. She was still fucking horny. “What is this?” she muttered, trying to take her mind off of Yathi’s sweet, wet, gooey... “A limpet trap?”

“Nah. Limpet trap would already be fucking our brains out.” Yathi visibly swallowed. “This is probably a vine dryad, or maybe a druid. Though a druid usually wouldn’t be able to grab from so far off...”

“Not enough range?”

“Not enough aim. As I understand it. So either we’re dealing with a really powerful druid, or—” Yathi squirmed. “Fuck,” she hissed.

“Yathi?”

Yathi was silent a moment, as they slowly descended, the only sound the gaspings and whinings from down below.

A low moan escaped the scout’s plush lips.

After a moment, Trys realized that the vines had started to gently caress her companion, running slickly along her exposed cunt. It looked like heaven. And hell, Trys thought, licking her lips.

“F-fuck,” Yathi repeated, writhing. Her eyes screwed shut. Trys realized she was struggling to reach her pussy, but that was, of course, impossible. She let out a groan, followed by a grunt, followed by a frustrated cry stained with crippling arousal. “F-fuck!”

Trys realized she was staring. She just... couldn’t tear her eyes away. Yathi’s eyes are closed, she told herself. She won’t know.

She bit her lip. She really needed to look away.

She eventually did manage to avert her gaze. And then Yathi’s moans and whines became gradually unbearable, until, torn with curiosity and lust, Trys looked again. Trys watched as they descended as Yathi was mercilessly teased and edged, held on the border of unbearable arousal. Why can’t I look away? she asked herself, wishing she could touch herself, relieve some of her lingering tension, shove her face into Yathi’s crotch and... Goddammit, how is she so hot?

Trys almost felt just as tortured as Yathi just by the sight and sounds. To have the object of her lust so close, and yet... she tried to cut the thought away, but it grew back like a meddlesome weed.

It didn’t make any sense. How was she so hot? Trys had known plenty of beautiful women, and slept with most of them, but something about Yathi was different. Was it because she was infected now? No, Trys had been drawn to her even before that. What was it?

The descend took about ten minutes. It felt like hours. Trys was ‘forced’ to watch as her colleague shook and spasmed, unable to orgasm and yet unable to think straight for desire. As they lowered closer to the vines, the vines started to move around them, and the moans from below started to get clearer. Trys and Yathi were lowered into a strange, dark hollow in the mass. The vines had been used to construct a sort of shelter. A big one.

At the bottom were four figures.

Two of them wore green robes. One was entirely nude, lying beside a pair of forgotten glasses with one broken lens as though someone had stepped upon it. And one, a woman with shining golden hair, was dressed in provocative lingerie with thigh-high tights.

She, and the robed women, were catgirls. Large, pointy ears poked up from the tops of their heads, and as two robed women turned to look at them, Trys saw that their green eyes were slitted like felines’.

The nude woman was the source of the moaning. She was a gorgeous, full-figured woman with incredibly long braided green locks. She clutched at her breasts, red-faced and gasping, as the blonde catgirl held something at her crotch.

A runerod, Trys realized, seeing it vibrate. A magic item devised to pleasure pussies, to stimulate every single nerve, every ounce of mental energy. It was risky to use a runerod for more than a few minutes at a time.

This woman had been gasping and pleading since before they’d arrived.

The blonde catgirl was whispering to the fey woman. As she descended closer, Trys strained her ears to overhear.

“Good girl,” she heard the catgirl say. “It’s so much easier to do as I tell you, isn’t it?”

“Yes!” the woman cried. “Yes yes yes! Please!”

“My sweet little pet dryad,” the catgirl cooed, stroking the woman’s cheek tenderly. “You’ve done such a good little job, bringing us our toys. Maybe you do deserve a reward...”

“Yes yes yes please yes—”

With a twinge in her own pussy, Trys realized that the runerod was behaving rather strangely. Every few seconds, its runes winked out and it stopped vibrating.

Like Yathi, the dryad was being prevented from climaxing.

“And we’re so sorry,” the catgirl said mockingly, tickling the catgirl’s neck, “that we were such a bad girl earlier.”

The dryad kept up a constant stream of apologies, affirmations, and pleas—punctuated by the odd gasp or cry as the runerod re-activated.

“I can make it feel so good,” the catgirl sang. “Do we want that? Do we wanna be a good little girl again?”

“Yes yes! Oh, yes! Y—” The dryad went silent as the catgirl popped a single finger—slick with something, Trys saw—into her mouth. The dryad immediately started to suck.

“And what did we learn from this?” the blonde catgirl asked teasingly. She pulled the runerod in and out a few times, and Trys heard the dryad moaning through the finger. “Did we learn our lesson, cutie?” The dryad was nodding frantically. “Did we, then, my little pet fey slut?”

Trys squirmed, feeling her arousal growing the longer she watched. At least she wasn’t looking at Yathi anymore, she told herself.

At last, the catgirl pulled the finger out. Instantly, the dryad screamed, “Always obey Menta! Always-always-ALWAYS!”

The catgirl giggled. “Good slut!”

The sound of the orgasm was almost deafening. It echoed through the vine chamber as the ‘roof’ closed up behind Trys and Yathi. It sounded almost tormented in its pure, raw passion—the catgirl was clearly using her magic to make the dryad even more sensitive, even more vulnerable, even more overwhelmed. That orgasm had to be unbearable. Trys was very jealous.

Before the orgasm had even finished, Menta looked up and beamed as she saw the two descending. Yathi was still gasping and whining, Trys noted. “Ooh, yay!” She clapped her hands delightedly. “New toys for us to play with!”

“Enjoying yourself?” Trys snapped. She had to speak up a little to be heard above the screaming dryad.

“Ooh, yes!” Menta nodded eagerly. “A lot! A lots, actually!” She placed a hand on the dryad’s belly and gently stroked, saying something to the dryad Trys didn’t catch. The dryad weakly nodded, and Trys felt the vines start to lower her and Yathi faster.

“My name’s Menta,” the catgirl chirped as they approached the ground. “Druid of the Seventh Circle. And you,” she said, her voice almost becoming a squee as she turned to Yathi, “are just the sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

They finally touched the soft earth and came to settle on solid ground again. Yathi shook all over, letting out a mix of whimpers and curses.

“Aw.” Menta pouted, her ears flattening slightly. “Well, that won’t do. What a naughty toy you are!”

“Menta,” Trys said, trying to keep her voice level, lest she betray any arousal, “we’re sorry for trespassing in your woods, but we’re actually on a really important mission. We’re tracing some mead-brewers—”

“I know!” Menta stuck out her tongue at Trys. “The honeys and I already worked it all out. We’ll take care of you, the boy, and that alchemy sprite. They’ll look after... her.” Her look towards Yathi was positively worshipful. “Mm. Though now that I see her...” Her fingers fell down to her crotch, staring at the tormented, wriggling scout.

“No, you can’t!” Trys protested, her heart pounding in her chest. She tried to get up, now that she was on the ground, but the vines made it difficult. “You can’t make deals with them! You have to—”

“Ooh!” Menta looked back at her, seeming almost annoyed for a moment. But she smiled condescendingly at her. “Oh, sweetie, don’t worry!” She walked up, hips swaying, tracing a finger along Trys’s lips. Trys flinched, closing her mouth before the finger could enter, feeling the wetness on her lower lip. “We’ve got it allll taken care of! We’re gonna take good, good care of you.”

The other two catgirls advanced on Trys from either side, caressing her face and giving loving little oohs and ahs, clearly trying to soothe her. Trys wasn’t having any of it. “No, damn it!” she cried, feeling the taste of Menta’s juices strike her tongue. “You can’t just—”

“It’s alright,” cooed the catgirl on the left, a redhead with bright orange ears.

“We’ll take care of you,” cooed the catgirl on the right, a freckled brunette with pitch-black ears.

“Don’t need to worry anymore,” they crooned together, slowly pinning her to the ground between their bodies. “You’re gonna be our pets now. Our sweet li’l toys. It’s so much more fun...”

“No...” But Trys’s worries shifted as she felt the vines beginning to stir again. “No—”

Her last glimpse of Yathi, as the vines closed again overhead and plunged them into darkness, was of the vines carrying the scout away. Menta followed on a vine of her own, disappearing into the gloom.

* * *

Brist was vaguely aware that he was alone now.

He’d heard Yathi’s and Trys’s screams. It had seemed important, so he’d started to get up. But then the spirals had reminded him that it... wasn’t important. Somehow. That the only important thing was staring into this spiral and edging himself.

And so he’d done so. And so he’d been doing for... a few seconds? Maybe a minute? The pleasure dulled his senses, wiped out any logic or reason. It felt so good to sink into those spirals. He knew they were making him good. Soft. Pliant. Obedient. Submissive. He knew he needed to watch the spirals. Stay on the edge, letting it drain his thoughts away...

So lost was he in the flower’s seductive spirals, he only noticed he was once again not alone when a pair of catlike pupils appeared in his field of vision and blocked his view of the flower. “Hi,” breathed the catgirl.

Brist’s mind took a moment to adjust to the new sight, but something, some strange whispery voice he barely noticed, told him it wasn’t important. That it was the same. That there was still a spiral there, if only he looked close enough. That he had to be a good boy and find the spiral so he could be good. Pliant. Submissive. Obedient.

So he began studying the catgirl’s face intently, searching for the spiral that he so badly needed to stare into.

“See anything you like?” she asked sweetly. Brist felt something pulling his robes away from him. Soft hands, slender fingers that tickled over his suddenly-nude body.

She was pretty. Very pretty. She had a cute button nose and a pair of big, heavy-lashed green eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered every few seconds, making his head swim. Was that the spiral? No...

“Keep looking,” she whispered. Her lips were curved in a smug smile. They were perfect, plush lips. Ripe for kissing. Painted as red as blackberry juice. Was that the spiral? Surely not... He felt another set of hands running over his neck, massaging his shoulders. It felt nice.

“Oh, you’re gonna be my new favorite toy.” Dimples emerged. Her skin was pale and lightly dusted with freckles. The freckles drew his gaze for a while...

* * *

... but no, that couldn’t be it.

“You love getting lost in me. You love submitting to us, letting us unwrap you. ” He felt fingers crawling around his thighs. It, too, tickled a little bit, but it felt nice. He felt a smile spreading across his features as he examined her hair. It was a rich chocolatey brown, long and styled to fall around her heart-shaped face. Beautiful, but not a spiral.

Dimly, Brist felt the sense that he should be resisting, that something was wrong here. But that sense was so distant, and he felt like he was so close. He started examining her pretty nose and eyes again. Perhaps he’d missed something.

“Good boy,” she sang softly. “Good boy gets a nice reward. Rica? Give him a nice li’l reward.” She beamed at his uncomprehending face as he tried to study her lush lips. “But keep it slow! He looks like he can’t take much more.” Her eyes seemed to get a little bit closer. “You’re gonna get a nice li’l reward, pet. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Brist swallowed. “Uh... um... yes?” He wished she wouldn’t ask him questions. He needed to concentrate on finding her spirals.

Then, he felt a pair of slender hands pull his own from his cock. He tried to struggle, but he suddenly felt so weak, so... pliant...

The hands returned, wrapping around his own cock now, and started to stroke. Brist’s eyes bulged. “Ah!”

“Feels good, hm?” the catgirl asked sweetly.

“Uh-huh!” he gasped, feeling those hands pumping up and down. They weren’t edging him. They were rewarding him. He couldn’t... couldn’t hold it... “Gonna—gonna—”

Unable to hold back any longer, he came. He cried out in sheer joy, his eyes screwing tightly shut. He shook in the catgirls’ arms, feeling them kissing his neck, licking his cheek with their long, rough tongues, stroking every last drop of cum out of his throbbing shaft. Amid it all, he thought he heard a slight squeak of surprise.

At last, as the climax ebbed, his eyes opened.

He stared into the startled face of his hypnotizer, now dripping with cum.

“Um.” His mind started to grind back into action. “S-sorr—”

His mind returned to him with a jolt. With a cry of alarm, he shot to his feet, casting the two equally startled catgirls clutching him off, and turned to run.

“Aack!” he heard his hypnotiser cry, and he heard the sounds of struggling, of many rough tongues. “Get off! Get—ooh—stop it, lickies later—heehee—dammit, girls, get ’im!“

Brist’s heart began to pound as he ran through the Evergreen Forest, ran off the path, no thought to gear or companions or planning, just ran.

* * *

Morrowii—or “Mew“, as most called her—shoved her two sisters from her as the last of the mead-tainted cum was cleaned from her. They blinked, lusty eyes clearing, then turned and bolted off, discarding their robes as they went to enhance their speed.

Mew got up slower, taking a moment to clean herself off, licking her hand and fixing her hair. She wasn’t worried. The new toy was running fast, yes, but he was running like scared prey.

And unfortunately for him, Mew thought, grinning, nothing made a catgirl wetter.

* * *

Ia hadn’t been surprised when the vines came, extracted her from the netting, and pulled her arms and legs wide so she was on full display. And she hadn’t been surprised when the short-haired blonde catgirl had emerged from the bushes. And she certainly wasn’t surprised when the catgirl started a hypnotic chant, drawing Ia’s gaze to her pretty, pretty eyes, slowly whispering Ia’s every thought away with a comforting wave of soothing promises.

She was a little surprised —and offended—at how long they’d taken to get here.

“And it’s so super hard to focus,” the druidess crooned.

“Hard to focus,” Ia gasped, licking her panting lips.

“Feels so good to submit...”

“So good...” Ia strained to touch herself, to touch any part of herself, but the vines held her completely helpless.

“Feels so good to beg...”

“Oh, please, Mistress,” she whimpered, “please—”

“You wanna...” The catgirl bit her lip. “Wanna beg to lick me out like a human slut...”

“Yes,” Ia cried. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me! Let me lick you out like a human slut!“

The catgirl was silent a moment, smiling smugly up at her.

“Okay!” she said cheerfully. “I give you an A for voice, a B+ for emoting, and...” She pursed her lips. “... a C- for creativity.”

Ia blinked.

She blinked again. Her mind slowly clicked, trying to regain purchase...

“... for creativity?” she moaned.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about.” The catgirl snapped her fingers. “Repeating what I say is... I mean, it’s sexy, but I feel like you could do more. I mean, c’mon.” She giggled. “I know how much porn you humans look at, read, watch... didn’t you ever visit any sprite pits? They do roleplay on Thursdays.”

Ia blinked. She blinked again. “What.”

“I just wanna help you get into this role,” the catgirl enthused. “You’re a great actor. Could be amazin’ with the right motivation.”

Ia swallowed. Her mind raced. “Um.”

“Oh, sweetie, I know you’re immune.” The catgirl shrugged, leaning back against a tree trunk. “You put on a cute little show, though. The honeys told Menta everything. You can’t be mind controlled. Not by anything we know about, anyway.” She pouted. “Everyone else was really bummed about it, but not me!”

Ia chewed on her inner cheek. “Not you.”

“Nope!” The catgirl grinned. “I see it as an opportunity!”

“An opportunity.”

“Aw, you’re doing it again.” The catgirl snickered. “That’s cute. But seriously! We always break our toys with mind control. And it’s hot, but Menta and Mew and Cera are so good at it, I never get to have any fun!”

“Fun.” Ia stopped herself. She really was doing it again.

“Uh-huh!” The catgirl clapped her hands together. “Until now! I asked, and begged, and pleaded, and...” She licked her lips. “And finally, I get to have a turn! On you!”

“Me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Who you can’t mind control.” Ia was not used to being the “straight man” in the conversation. She decided she hated it.

“Yup! Heehee!”

“So... what, you’re just gonna fuck me?” Ia tried not to sound too hopeful. If she could get this catgirl to let her go without any mind control, maybe she could—

“Oh, nah.” The catgirl’s grin widened to sadistic proportions. “My sweet li’l alchemy sprite, I, Nepetella, am plannin’ to be the first person to totally brainwash someone without mind magic!” She clasped her hands together, beaming. “I’m gonna turn you into a drooling, begging, whimpering li’l slut for me. You’re gonna love it.”

Ia blinked. Unbidden, her curiosity drove her to ask, “And how’re you gonna do that, Elly?”

The catgirl giggled. She reached back into the bushes and pulled out a large jar. Several grayish shapes fluttered within. Her hand reached for the lid. “With a few... special helpers.”

She unscrewed the lid.

Three little figures flitted out. Ia realized they were fairies—gray-skinned, fuzzy fairies. Each bore the shape of a beautiful little woman, though their insectile eyes seemed oddly... glazed.

“Ooh,” one cooed, staring into Ia’s eyes.

“She’s so pretty,” moaned another.

“Are we gonna fuck her?” asked the third, staring back with adoring eyes at her druidess owner.

“Nope!” Elly chirped. “We’re gonna tease her.”

Ia’s eyes widened. “Aw, fuck no.”

The catgirl pranced up as the fairies zoomed towards Ia’s breasts.

Ia gasped as two of them fastened little mouths on each nipple and began to suck, rubbing their whole bodies over the sensitive flesh. A third flew down between Ia’s thighs. Ia’s heart began to pound.

“Hey, sweetie,” Elly cooed, and Ia felt her tickling her sole. “Let me know when this gets too much.”

At first, Ia wasn’t sure what the catgirl was talking about. Then she felt it. Her eyes widened.

Her sensitivity was growing. The little tickling at her sole rapidly turned into an unbearable level of sensation. The suckling at her breasts became exquisite pleasure. She started to giggle madly, struggling against her confines. “Aah! Heehee! No! Stop!”

“Nope!” Elly sang. She kept tickling, and as she did so, the sensation rose higher and higher. Ia thrashed and gasped and moaned. “Gonna amp it up and up and UP ’til you’re a good little gaspin’ bimbo for me—”

Ia felt like she already was. The third fairy hadn’t even touched her yet and she was already beyond reason. She writhed and wriggled and moaned, struggling in vain against her bindings. “Please!” she cried. She hadn’t had a good fuck in hours, and now it felt like years. “Please—heeheehee—n-no! I’m gonna—gonna—”

This was it. Ia swallowed. She was gonna cum from this. Cum from two tiny women sucking her nipples and from one hot girl tickling her foot. It was humiliating. It was degrading. She loved it. She couldn’t stop giggling. The pleasure was untold. Un-tellable. Unintelligible. Or maybe that was her. Couldn’t stop moaning. She was about to—about to—

“Uh-uh-uh!” Elly said abruptly. And suddenly, Ia felt... loss.

She couldn’t feel the orgasm. She knew it came, but she couldn’t feel it. She could feel her pussy gushing, could feel her hips thrusting, but all she felt was the same rising tide of needy pleasure. And then the orgasm ebbed, and her hips went still, and still the arousal continued to build.

Her heart slammed into the ground. She stared deep into the catgirl’s eyes, and understood.

“Good girls get to come,” Elly cooed, and drew out a long, thick runerod. The catgirl still had not stopped tickling with the other hand. “And I’m gonna make you into such a good girl...”

Ia could only giggle with fright and delight.

She hoped the others were in better shape than she was right now.