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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anya bit her lip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, you know." The woman laughed. "You open doors in the world, yes? 'Keybearer' is very, um, simple translation."

"Ah. Yes." Anya nodded, smiling politely. "My name's Anya, though."

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

"Yes, Nun." Anya blinked.'

And blinked again.

She rubbed her eyes with a hand. "W-wait, you're... mm, you're..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anya's lips were tingling.

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

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

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

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

Anya's eyes opened.

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

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

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

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

And she knew nothing more for a while.

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are they doing?" he whispered.

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had he been here before? More than once?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Stroke, stroke!" sang a voice from above.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had dreamed of those kisses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Be our little kitten!" cooed one, as she pressed Bezzy's face against her clit.

"We always need new beembos," gasped another, as she rocked back and forth on Bezzy's fingers.

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

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

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

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

"W-what..." he gasped. "What're you g-gonna do?"

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

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

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

Senya trembled as Ting's kisses started to caress his mind into docility. "V-Valina..."

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

The bell rang loudly.

"Oh, hush."

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Goodbye, Master," she said softly.

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

And they began to play.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are a good beembo.

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

You are a good beembo.

His cock throbbed as the pussy slicked around him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he wasn't cumming.

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

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

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

But he wasn't cumming.

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

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

Turning him into a dumb, horny beembo.

Recognizing this, he slurped and suckled even harder.

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

He moaned, filled with bliss at the thought.

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

Because that's what good beembo royals do.

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

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

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

"I am a good beembo," he cried.

And they giggled. For they had already known this.

And it was at that moment that everything went black.

~~~~

"You can't do it."

"Oh, yes, I can. I already sent him up there! He's screwed!"

"You could get him down."

"Nuh-uh. Couldn't. Don't want to."

"You're so full of shit!"

"Ora, don't be so—"

"You're so full of shit, too!"

"Ora."

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

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

"He's enthralled to the sprites now. Nothing I can do."

"Don't bullshit us, Valina!"

"I made up my mind!"

"Which one? The 'Kitten' mind? The 'Valina' mind? Or the mind of the sadistic fey rapist he probably thinks you are?"

"You have he nerve to say that to me?"

"Valina! Ora! You two walk this back!

"Walk what back? I speak truth, Val. She's—"

"Ora, shut up."

"Ha!"

"Valina, shut up, too."

"Ha."

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

~~~~

Senya's eyes opened.

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

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

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

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

It took close to a half-hour.

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

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

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

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

He blinked. "I... I still didn't want it."

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

"O-oh."

Her ears flattened. "That's not worth much."

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

Her lips quirked slightly.

"Apparently."

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I have been here before.

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

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

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

"Master."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Months?"

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

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

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

At first, Senya barely recognized her as human.

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

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

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

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

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

He shook himself out of it.

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

"That's the plan, I am sure."

"But why? I mean—who is she?"

The catgirl shrugged. "Don't know where she came from. A local, maybe. Not a Crow."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Had he said that?

He had just said that out loud.

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

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

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

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

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

"Valina!" he hissed. "What are you..."

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

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

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

"Oh," moaned Lala, "the fun we had!"