“Thirsty, are we?”

Longyamen looked up at her, questioningly, his silver eyes blinking transparent eyelids. She watched his scaly pale-rose tail flicking behind him.

Edith gave an indulgent smile and wink. “Go ahead,” she said, almost conspiratorially. She barely held in a giggle. “It would be rude not to, wouldn’t it?”

He nodded slightly and raised the teacup and saucer to his lips.

He drank. Edith beamed.

“I’ll bet you were surprised when I showed up at your cave,” she said, trying not to bounce her knees with excitement—it would make other parts of her bounce, and the holstaur needed to be decent for now. These lovely blue laces wouldn’t stand a chance at holding the corset together if her assets got too active.

“Mm.” He lowered the cup, blinking at her. His irises were serpentine, his pupils narrow slits. Two twisting gazelle horns spiraled from the sides of his head, a contrast to her short but hefty bull horns. He was slender, and dressed in fine crimson silks. Pink scales, as fine as a hummingbird’s feathers, covered his arms and climbed across his brow, turning the two horns into a scaly crown. “We don’t often see holstaurs around here,” he said.

She glowed with pride and tried not to squirm too much. “That’s such a shame,” she said, leaning in slightly, her eyes and jutting lower lip the very picture of sympathy. “I’ve always longed to meet a true dragon.”

He smiled shyly. He leaned back in his armchair. They were in the dragon’s foyer, a lavishly-decorated cave with many-colored salt crystals glowing at the tip of every stalactite high above. The old sea cave was now miles from the ocean, but the sandy floor remained decorated with shells and smooth stones, the walls gleaming with abalone mosaics. Two women stood at the exit behind him, great batlike wings folded behind their backs, their expressions imperious. They were made of solid, gleaming salt, but they could move quickly when they wanted to.

There was no way out, save through the Saline Spine Longyamen, regardless.

And he was setting his teacup down, seemingly surprised at it already being empty.

“Allow me,” Edith purred, leaning in. ‘Lon’ seemed inclined to argue, but it was customary in the fey tea ceremonies to allow the guest to pour, signifying trust. And she planned to be a very welcome guest indeed. She raised the kettle and poured the hot tea at a slow, steady trickle, allowing the steam to fill the chilly cavern chamber—and conceal what she was doing as she daintily popped a breast out of the corset, took a nipple between her fingers and gave it a little tug, squirting a stream of holstaur milk right into his cup. Squeezing back into the corset was not easy, but a holstaur made do.

She then made a big show of smiling and applying the sugar cubes, the cream—he watched her closely on the cream, she noted with an inward grin. He thought she was going to switch her milk for it. Well, a growing boy like Lon needed all the milk he could get, so he was going to get a creamy treat indeed.

She slid the teacup back over, and he smiled and accepted it. Again, he seemed to hesitate.

“This tea is delicious,” she said, taking a long sip from her own cup—it was a little lukewarm, as she’d barely sipped from it all of teatime. “Don’t you think?”

He took a small sip, then a longer one. “Mm-hm.”

“It’s so sweet,” she said, batting her eyelashes, “and so rich.”

“Mm-hm.” He was still drinking. She giggled as his teacup passed over his eyes, blocking his gaze as he eagerly emptied it.

“That’s right,” she said, her voice not quite a coo as she leaned in and took the creamer. “Must drink it all down. Such a shame to waste such decadent delights, isn’t it?”

“Mm…” He was ndding, greedily drinking. He didn’t notice as she poured the remaining cream into her own cup—and quickly pumped her own into the pitcher with a few exquisite squeezes.

Her lip quivered with pleasure—not just the pleasure of being milked, but the pleasure of knowing what her milk was doing to him. The mighty dragon was slipping right under for her.

He lowered the teacup at last. She giggled. “All done? Here, I’ll—”

“I’ll… pour,” he mumbled, fumbling for the creamer. He moved as though drunk, and Edith was almost too happy to help him, putting the cream pitcher in his hand, guiding him to fill his cup up with cream, then with tea, then with sugar, then with more cream.

“Yes, you will,” she said soothingly, finally releasing his hand and allowing him to pick up the cup and keep drinking. “You’ll just pour that all down, won’t you? Mm, yummy! Is that yummy?”

“Mm… mm-hm…”

She noticed his eyes were settling on her, drifting down, admiring her form. Oh, and what a form he had to admire! Edith’s breasts were almost as big as her head, and her blue corset concealed very little—the delicate laces visibly straining to hold them in, squeezing them just right to make it visually plain how very soft they were, how supple and smooth.

Of course, there was more to a holstaur than her tits—like her pretty brown eyes, thick lashes fluttering with every little blink, and her plump, lush ruby-red lips, and her long, flowing skirt that betrayed wide hips and the hint of a curvy bubble-butt. She was a little taller than him, but not by much. But with his head lolling like that, his eyes affixed to her…

… oh, he was adorable. She bit her lip, and allowed herself a little jiggle, grinning widely as his eyes followed the motion dreamily. She giggled. “Aw, are we already getting… sleepy?”

“Nn… no…”

“I think we are,” she cooed, leaning in and plopping her breasts right on the table. This close, their leakage was evident—popping them in and out of the corset had been a kind of torture, and she licked her lips, relieved to finally have them free. “Or maybe… just a little thirsty?”

The dragon blinked at her slowly. The mighty Saline Spine licked his lips.

She giggled, and reached to take his cup. “Aw. Let me help you with th—”

His hand took hers.

She froze in place.

Edith shuddered as warm, soothing waves—like the most wonderful massage, like a bath in the most calming, relaxing hot spring—rolled over her. Her lips parted. “O-Oh.”

She stared at Longyamen. How had she not noticed how… pretty his scales were? How muscular and yet supple his frame. How… how warm his hand, so gentle as it caressed hers, delicately plucked the cup from her fingers…

The dragon smiled. “Why don’t you come over here?” he suggested, patting his knee.

The holstaur quivered. She stared at his knee, at his beckoning hand. “N-No,” she whispered, but the waves of relaxation, the overpowering awe at the dragon’s form, was like thousands of heavy wool blankets falling onto her, one after the other. “H-How can… I won’t…”

She realized she was already seated on his lap, staring down at him. She bit her lip.

He beamed up at her and patted her head. “Good cow,” he murmured, reaching up with his other hand and running a finger around one nipple. She whimpered. “That’s a good cow, isn’t it?”

“I—I—”

“Isn’t it?” he stressed, smiling up at her. Gods, he had… had such a pretty smile, such nice, kissable lips, such lovely shimmering eyes…

“Yes,” the holstaur whimpered, arching her back with pleasure at his subtle touches.

He leaned in, forked tongue snaking out and tickling a nipple. She cried out softly. “Silly cow,” he cooed. “Don’t you know dragons are immune to that sort of thing?”

She didn’t want to answer, but his eyes, his tongue, his fingers, his… everything seemed to force the words from her, as easy as he was easing dripping milk from her heaving tits.

“Heard… stories,” she said softly, wriggling helplessly now as he started to gently squeeze her breast in his hand, his tongue growing more daring, lapping her up. “B-But… if you… willing…”

“If I lower my defenses,” he whispered, planting kisses on her breast. “But silly cow, a wyrm’s resistance isn’t something he must consider. It is a part of me.” She whined as his lips gently kissed her nipple, and his tongue briefly tickled and tormented her. He gave her a wicked, toothy grin. “Even if I’d been fooled by your cute little tea display, I would have needed to willingly suppress that resistance. Little cow, you wandered into the dragon’s lair…”

She squeaked as his eyes bored into hers. She was quivering, helpless, overcome with awe, wonder… adoration…

“And now,” he purred, “would you like to stay forever?”

The sound slipped from her lips as he licked her, barely a squeak, barely a whimper.

“Uh-huh!”

He moaned happily and leaned in, beginning to suckle. Pleasure dripped through her like warm syrup, and she trembled as his tail pulled her by the waist to him, as she squirmed and wriggled on his knee, into his lap, eyes wide as he sucked, and sucked, and sucked…

At some point, she found herself in Master’s arms, squealing in pleasure as he fucked her, as he suckled her, as he whispered praise in her ear. She cooed and nodded and babbled and obeyed and came and came and came…

… until at long last, He told her to let the mephits take her to her new bedroom. She happily obliged, with one last loving kiss on Master’s cheek, allowing the mephits to tug her off and lead her, the three of them giggling like fools, to her new home.

She wasn’t sure what her plan had been anymore, but Edith was sure it had worked perfectly.

* * *

Lon lounged back in his armchair, happily watching the cupid’s ass sway through heavy-lidded eyes. Life was good for a sin-collecting dragon.

Every dragon had something they liked to hoard. Some hoarded gold, or hypnotic crystals. Some hoarded different kinds of alcohol, or poisons, or princesses. Lon hoarded wicked mindweavers, and he adored his collection. And they adored him.

The cupid was humming, her hot pink hair bouncing behind her in a thick braid as she half-danced through her work. She wore little more than a pink apron, some lacy lingerie, and a swishing pink skirt, and as she bent all the way down to retrieve something from the oven, Lon smiled.

“What’s for dessert tonight?” he asked, stretching and yawning. The dragonboy half-curled up in his chair, enjoying his position by the second oven—the goblin maids liked to have their own for cooking, and he didn’t mind the extra heat one bit. Neither did they, with enough kisses and petting.

“Lady’s Slip pastries,” the cupid sang, spinning back to face him—her apron and skirt swishing behind her. Her eyes were a brilliant pink, her lips almost absurdly plump and a deep red-violet—and, he knew, as sweet as Thriae honey. She was shorter than him, and had curves to make a goblin maid jealous. February the cupid had been assembling quite the lovestruck harem when she’d set her sights on one of Lon’s villages. Her pastries, her cookies, and most of all, her sinful, decadent puddings had rendered many a man or woman helplessly infatuated with her, begging for the honor of sucking her fingers or touching her hair. And that was to say nothing of her kisses.

“Do they have raspberries? You know I like raspberries.” He craned his neck over the edge of the chair, trying to see to the tray, but her ass barred his view. He didn’t quite mind.

“Of course!” she sang, prancing over. She moved like a ballet dancer, like an angel. Cupids were sometimes called ‘kissing angels,’ though those that focused on kissing tended to be much less indulgent than February had been. “Open wide, Master!”

He opened wide and let her slip a pastry into his mouth. He moaned in pleasure—it was crispy and sweet, with just enough tartness to disguise the unbearable levels of sugary cupid’s poison she’d no doubt drowned it in.

“Is it good?” she asked, bouncing in place with excitement.

He smiled up at her and stretched again. He was practically backwards in his armchair. A dragon’s laziness was something to behold. “Good girl,” he purred, reaching up and tracing a finger over her side. She squeaked and shivered from the touch.

“Would you like another?” she whispered, eyes wide. “I—I’m almost out of milk, but I can make more for tonight, if you’d like me to—”

“Out of milk?” He grudgingly sat up. “Silly angel, didn’t I just tell you ten minutes ago about your new hoardmate?”

The cupid blinked. Her mouth opened in a delighted grin. “Ooh! Ooh, Master, good idea! I’ll go milk the cow!” she giggled, already twirling to retrieve a jar from the shelf. “And can I bring her some treats, since we’re making more anyways?” Her fingers tapped over a smaller jar, this one containing three large chocolate truffles.

“Yes, but only one,” he said warningly. “Unless you think she needs it. You know how silly the girls get when you attend to them.”

“Yes, Master!” the cupid sang, and bounced out of the room. He didn’t hear her on the stairs, but that was a testament to her grace. He knew she would take care of Edith.

Lon sighed happily, idly rubbing his hand between his legs. Life was easy. He licked his lips, savoring the raspberry flavor. Soon, the goblin maids would come back to get supper out of the oven. He rubbed a little faster, imagining their hot bodies practically fainting into his lap, clinging to his arms, kissing and bouncing and jiggling…

Time blurred, hazy and warm and happy. Left alone, a dragon could sleep in a perpetual half-trance, edging themselves into a drooling catatonia, pretty much forever. It was easy to slumber. To edge. To drift into the rosy trance of dragonsleep.

But he sat up and smiled smugly as he heard clumsy footfalls on the stairs. He reluctantly got to his feet, ready to have some fun with his cupid.

February reentered the room, swaying slightly. She had a sloshing half-full jar of milk clutched to her bosom with both hands, and the smaller truffle jar was nowhere to be seen. There was a glassy look of bliss in her eyes.

“Is that all?” he asked, blinking.

“Hm?” she blinked back at him, her eyelids heavy, lashes curtaining those pink orbs. She looked at the jar, then giggled. “M-More than enough.”

There was a funny quality to her voice, dazed and dreamy. She sighed and cooed and rubbed against him as he took her in his arms, shakily setting the jar on the counter. She mumbled something under her breath as he started to nuzzle and kiss her neck, sliding his hands down her soft, smooth form and slipping her skirt up for his access.

Her lips were as sweet as ever. And they were still dripping a little with milk. He didn’t really mind. She fucked him as eagerly as ever, and by the time the goblin maids arrived, he was quite occupied already. But they were happy to kiss and encourage, to profess their love for their Master.

February kept moaning something between kisses.

It sounded like a moan.

But it almost sounded like ‘Mama.’

* * *

Dinner was a lovely affair—as always, he invited his hoard to attend if they chose. February was far too tired, but the goblin maids were happy to stay close to him. The catgirl and kitsune were occupied in each other’s arms, as always, and the holstaur was still recovering from earlier.

Lon didn’t modify his captives’ minds more than he had to. He was wicked by dragon standards, but not too wicked to enjoy good conversation. So he, Lik and Arulki had a nice conversation about the new captive—interrupted only when they got a little too playful and he had to remind them that dinner was no time for foolery.

“She’s cute,” Lik said, fiddling with her fork and knife. She had already eaten. Goblin maids rarely ate during regular meals, instead snacking between so they’d be free to work mischief on their prey—especially goblin maids like Lik, who had with her partner Arulki run a wicked tavern-and-brothel business for many years before he’d managed to track them down. Nobody who entered the tavern was ever able to resist some sort of indulgence, and steadily, the goblin maids had assembled a vast network of brainwashed slaves, desperate for Lik to settle into their lap while Arulki fed them spicy treats and told them what to do.

It had taken him a long time to bring them in and undo the damage. Lon was wicked by dragon standards, but he hated messes.

“She’s very cute,” Arulki agreed, licking her lips. “And so nice to have a cow of our very own. May we ask her to help us cook sometime Master?”

“I don’t see why…” Lon paused, remembering the trance February had been in. He looked between the puppydog pleading eyes of his two favorite cooks. “... oh, very well. Just don’t let her nurse you. I don’t need my cooks to be in the same state my baker’s in.” He winked.

They giggled, exchanging sly looks. They knew how to handle mischief makers. The Mindweaver’s Guild had come after them three times, supposedly, though never into his territory. Lon wasn’t sure if the Guild knew he was here—a dragon’s presence on the continent would be a difficult secret to keep, but the Guild was good at keeping secrets. Arulki and Lik had ‘handled’ the Guild agents every time. Lon wasn’t worried.

After supper, he had them take the tray of raspberry Lady Slips to their bedroom, and he followed close behind. Dinner was no time for foolery. Dessert, on the other hand…

* * *

The next morning, he was awoken by an eager mewling in his ear. The goblin maids had left to cook breakfast, but he smiled and wriggled as he allowed the catgirl and kitsune to squirm into bed with him. They were nice and warm and as eager as ever.

The licks started along his sides, and he squirmed and felt around, hand finally resting on the catgirl’s twitching fuzzy ears. His eyes half-opened to watch her moan and writhe deeper under the covers. On his right side, the kitsune was already out of sight, only her tail swishing free of the covers as she lapped at his chest, teasing him.

“Good girls,” he mumbled, allowing a wave of dragon awe to slip over them like a fifth blanket, savoring the feeling of them shivering against him despite the heat. Drowsily, he peeked beneath the covers, eager to admire them at play.

“Master,” sighed the catgirl, her rough tongue lapping delicately along his inner thigh, tickling his scales. She beamed up at him, showing slightly-sharp teeth. Lottie’s jet-black hair spilled over her shoulders like shadows, her eyes a brilliant blue-green like rare stones. The Oscillant Ocelot had slunk from the Northern Isles, drifting from town to town and captivating all, only to make off with their valuables—and sometimes their favorite strapping young men and women—all to make more mischief elsewhere. She had evaded Lon for a long time before her curiosity got the better of her and she’d snuck right into his lair, aiming to steal one of his prized pets—his fox, in fact. Dragons took ill to that.

“Kitten,” he said softly, and she shuddered with bliss. She started planting kisses along his thigh, making her way slowly toward his growing erection. Soft mewls and whimpers accompanied every kiss.

A pair of bright orange tufted ears poked out from the blankets, and bright orange eyes met his. The kitsune grinned, her lips smacking over his chest, bathing him in her kisses. Her tail wafted from side to side. “She told us you were cold, Master,” Tuff cooed, nuzzling his neck. “Are we keeping you warm?”

He sighed and stretched, and they gave little sounds of bliss at his increased exposure, eagerly covering the new area with more strokes and licks and kisses. The catgirl’s tongue started to delicately play with the head of his cock, wet sounds and whimpers accompanying every little lick.

“You’re…” He squirmed, biting his lip as the kitsune’s kisses continued along his jawline, her finger toying with his nipple. Tuff had once been a healer, but the power over minds had eventually broken her, and she’d begun taking advantage of her charges. She had been delivered to him by the villagers. A very sad case, and his first captive. He’d made the kitten absolutely helplessly infatuated with Tuff as a sort of consolation—and an ironic punishment for the catgirl.

“Master?” breathed Lottie, her tongue flicking over his cock head, again and again. So delicate, so playfully. “Master, is this nice? Are you warm?”

“W-Warm,” he whispered, as Tuff started to pepper his face with kisses. “Y-You’ve—mm—gotten g-good at that…”

“Oh, thank you, Master,” Tuff moaned, taking him in a second kiss on the lips. She kissed him passionately, hungrily, her lips plump, with a sweetness it took him a moment to recognize—and even longer to process, as Lottie’s lips slipped over his cock head and began a slow, sweet, steady sucking…

They were milking the pleasure so easily out of him it took him a long moment to recognize that creamy flavor. His eyes half-open, he stared into Tuff’s glazed, milky eyes…

… and as she pulled away to kiss and suck at his neck some more, his eyes drifted down to meet Lottie’s. She was practically glowing with pride, tiny whimpers interspersed with sucking sounds as she sucked—suckled—suckled at his cock like a teat, like nursing, like nothing gave her greater pleasure—those eyes so pretty and milky, such a nice glaze…

“Mama Edith has been giving us lessons,” Tuff whispered in his ear, giggling softly. “Aren’t we wonderful now? Aren’t we wonderful at making you happy, Master?”

“Y… yes…” He gasped, bucking slightly, but Lottie expertly rose, keeping his cock just barely between her lips, an everlasting suckling kiss that was the sweetest kind of torture. “B-But, um…”

“Can I show you?” Tuff whispered, her voice soft and wet in his ear. “C-Can I, Master? I’ve been getting good, too!”

He stared into Lottie’s eyes, seeing that sparkle of mischief as she rose and fell, keeping him trapped.

“Yes,” he mumbled, desperation warring with curiosity. He needed to come. Lottie was being playful, edging him like he edged himself. He could always order her, but then she would be sad and guilty… and besides, it did feel very nice…

But as Tuff took her place, eyes gleaming with pride, and her lips slipped over the head of his cock to resume the gentle suckling, he realized they weren’t going to let up on this torture anytime soon.

The catgirl rose up to stare into his eyes, beaming. “Aren’t we wonderful at it, Master?” she purred, planting kisses on his cheek between words. “Aren’t—mm—we—mm—wonderful?”

“Uh-huh,” he moaned, bucking up helplessly, desperate for more. “B-But… but I…” There was something he needed to know, something he’d been wanting to ask, but he wanted to come so badly…

“Mama Edith has been teaching us,” Lottie cooed, planting a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose, “how to suck nicely. Gently. So you can sleep better!”

“Uh. Ooh.” He wriggled, biting his lip. That did sound nice. Usually his pets were trying to make him wake up earlier, which he hated more than anything. The goblin maids lamented having to cook a brand-new breakfast because the old one got cold. And they all lamented having less time to play with him awake. But dragons liked their slumber. Sleeping… better… longer…

“Is it good, Master?” Lottie breathed. “Are we doing good?”

Her words were registering so slowly, but gradually, the first thing she’d said drifted back to him, brighter and clearer. Mama Edith.

Concern overtook curiosity and desperation. He frowned, and immediately regretted it—Lottie flinched like he had shouted at her.

“It’s very good,” he whispered quickly, cupping her cheek in her hand. “B-But… I should get up, L-Lottie. So maybe we should, um, finish up.”

Lottie’s face lit up,. and before he could react she was peppering him with kisses. “Ooh, yes, Master!” she breathed, her expression radiant. She kissed him hungrily on the lips, and he could taste the milk, could tell by the way her lips smacked and tongue twisted that she was imagining sucking on the holstaur’s tits, drinking deep…

And as she kissed him, Tuff started to bounce her head in his lap, and both of them were moaning, crying, squealing and mewling and growling in bliss as they came——as he came——as pleasure rose and crested and he bucked and moaned into their twin kisses—

And as the afterglow consumed him, he could barely growl in annoyance as the cat and fox tugged him to his feet and started leading him to the changing room, eager to get him dressed and started on his day.

He looked at the clock balefully. It was barely half past two.

* * *

About a week went by with little change, much to his growing uncertainty. Lottie and Tuff continued to wake him up in the early afternoon, edging him until he could bear it no longer. On the second day, he finally resorted to an order, but it felt… disappointing. The orgasm was less than satisfying, though both of his pets had enjoyed it plenty. He slept in for a day, and the next morning they were at it again, giggling with glee at how long they could “keep Master happy.” He didn’t order them a second time. It just wasn’t worth it. So he was getting up early now.

The holstaur continued to miss supper, and in fact she rarely left her room save when he brought her out. She seemed to prefer to lounge in her bed, squeezing and milking herself, waiting for company. But when he brought her out, she clung to his arm happily and cooed at every little thing, and eagerly gave herself to him time after time. She was truly infatuated with him, and he was growing to adore her every bit as much as his other pets.

And getting up early wasn’t so bad, when his loving pets were happy to use the extra time he was awake to play and delight him. He could almost get used to it.

Still, something was… odd. Not wrong, exactly, because everyone still seemed happy and obedient to him, was still eager to submit, to please. But something about the way the cat and the fox talked about Edith, the way the cupid giggled and blushed whenever they ran out of milk… something was not quite right.

That night, his goblin maids fucked him to sleep, like they always did, taking turns bouncing in his lap as he lay back, gripping their soft rears and encouraging them on. The plump little seductresses cried and squealed from his girth, bathing him in kisses. Their tight, slick cunts stroked him higher and higher into the clouds of ecstasy, stoked the fires of his lust almost as sweetly as their adoring kisses, their delicious praise and worship of their beloved Master.

They did their best to make it last, bouncing and cooing until he came so deep into them he slipped deep, deep into slumber.

And he heard them cooing, “Mama Edith loves us,” in his ears as he drifted away into his dreams.

One of them was pressing her tit to his mouth, and mindlessly, he accepted it, eagerly toying with her nipple with his tongue, happy to have something to suckle as he sank into sleep.

And his dreams were full of cowgirls. Edith bouncing in his lap instead of Lik, her eyes shining with joy. Another Edith clutching him to her bosom, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Whenever he would pull away, moaning, another Edith would take him with a sweet giggle and usher him to her own breast. It was endless. Inescapable.

“Mama Edith,” he heard himself crying, and shivered in the dream at how lost he sounded. How obedient. How… entranced.

How happy and horny.

He had never felt that way. Not ever. Lon had never cried out like that, never been helplessly held to a more powerful fey’s bosom and made to suckle himself into sweet bliss. He clutched Edith tighter. Never felt so… so…

… safe. Vulnerable. Happy. He gulped down the sweet milk, head spinning ecstatically with overwhelming bliss…

“Good boy,” he heard her whisper in his ear.

And he awoke.

His lips were fastened to the nipple—but it was no longer green, but a milky white, massive, soft, smooth and warm.

Edith smiled down at ihm. Was there a twinkle of mischief in her eyes?

He felt his face growing red, and with one last suckle, he pulled away. Mama Edith was sitting on the side of his bed, half-lying against him. The goblin maids were gone—he was edging, as a dragon did. His belly felt… full. And yet he craved more of that milk.

Craved it. But didn’t need it. He felt a strange pang of regret at the difference. It had been so nice in the dream, to… to imagine that he could…

He bit off the thought abruptly and frowned up at the holstaur.

“What’s the matter, Master?” She held up her breast with a little giggle. “Do you not want more?”

“Enough,” the dragon hissed, feeling the petulance in his tone. He looked over at the ticking clock—it was eight in the morning. Normally, this would still be nighttime. Now, thanks to the cat and fox—thanks to Edith—it was time to get up. He rose up to a sitting position and looked around. “I don’t believe I asked for you.”

“Aw.” She pressed against him and kissed his neck sweetly, her horns lightly grazing his cheek. “Master. Your kitty and fox get to surprise you! I thought, why can’t I?”

He supposed that made sense. He didn’t quite regret snapping, though, especially when she didn’t seem particularly contrite. Even brainwashed, holstaurs were famously difficult to get upset. They had a natural mellowing agent.

“Here,” she said softly, helping him to his feet. He let her guide him out of bed and to his wardrobe, and reluctantly began to get dressed. The holstaur watched him from the bed, kicking her feet happily.

“Why do they do as you say?” he asked, trying not to sound snappish. “Why do they follow your commands?”

“Aw, I don’t command my babies.” Edith smiled, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling knowingly. “I… I guess I just make them want to do things! You catch more flies with honey.” She winked. “Oh, Master, you look so handsome in that.”

He hesitated. He’d been about to put the shirt down—it felt a little juvenile, with its low cut and girly purple shade. It had bangles hanging around the waist that seemed like they’d jingle, too. “I am not wearing this.”

“Mm.” She clasped her hands together in her lap and batted her eyelashes at him.

* * *

Jingling with every step and regretting every minute of this day, Lon made his way to the kitchen. The holstaur was helping him along, which he felt like he should mind—it was demeaning to be helped along like an invalid. But he always let the goblin maids help him, didn’t he? It was just how he went about his day. If his servants wanted to help him walk around, help him exert as little energy as possible, how could he complain?

Still, something about her help felt more… expectant. Forceful. She guided him to his favorite chair, then bounced over to where the cupid was already at work cooking up something sweet for breakfast. Behind him, the goblin maids’ woodstove crackled and spat, its fire building in heat so the stove would be ready for use at noon.

“Morning, February!” Edith chimed, skipping up and wrapping her arms around the cupid without warning.

“Ooh!” the cupid squeaked, jumping slightly. She almost as immediately relaxed—relaxed right back into Edith’s embrace. “Ooh… morning, Mama Edith.”

“What are you cooking for Master today?” Edith cooed, nuzzling the sides of the cupid’s neck—first one, then the other—as her hands down below played along the much shorter woman’s supple hips, teasing the skirt’s hem a little.

Lon watched, and found himself reaching down to edge, as the warmth of the stove next to him started to encourage his slumber.

“Raspberry-stuffed crepes,” February sang, wriggling happily in Edith’s grip.

“That sounds nice,” Edith purred. Her lips planted a little kiss on the place where February’s neck and shoulder met.

“A-ah. Yes.” The cupid craned her head eagerly to allow more kisses, but Edith kept nuzzling. “I-It’s… my Mama’s recipe.”

Lon squeezed his cock through his red silken breeches. He hadn’t wanted to wear these, either—with the purple shirt, he looked like a walking valentine, and he was always far too tempted to stroke himself when he wore silk. He never got anything done. But he sighed, watching the holstaur play with the cupid, and slowly pumped his cock.

“I’ll bet it is.” Edith’s other hand rose up, squeezing February’s breast meaningfully. “And you’re making it nice and creamy, like Mama likes it?”

“Y-Yes,” February squeaked. She was basically in Edith’s arms, and would probably fall if not for Edith there.

“And you’ve made enough to share,” Edith breathed, barely loud enough even for a dragon’s ears to pick up. “Lots for all the girls and boys serving Master?” Her hand on February’s ass slipped between the cupid’s legs.

“U-Uh-huh!” February whimpered. She started to rise and fall on Edith’s fingers.

“Goooood.” Edith flashed Lon a loving grin as the cupid humped her hand. “And that feels so goooood, doesn’t it?”

“Ah—ah—”

“I know what you’re doing,” Lon said, frowning.

The holstaur maintained her happy smile, staring right into his eyes. He held his gaze, and put in the tiniest speck of dragonawe.

Edith dropped her gaze, flushing. “Y-Yes, Master,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t—just wanted them to—can’t you see how good she feels?”

February was moaning, her expression one of pure ecstasy, her eyes nearly closed, her mouth wide open and panting, those pretty ruby lips in a perfect ‘O’.

”Mama Edith,” Lon remembered crying in his dream. He wondered if he would look much the same if he had let Edith…

He cut the thought off. “February?” he said.

“Ahuh?” February’s voice was slurred. She was coming, rising up and down with every ounce of energy and focus she could muster, desperate to draw out her orgasm even as her legs wobbled like pieces of straw.

“Grab Mama Edith and restrain her.”

Edith’s lips parted. “Wh—”

Her eyes widened as February happily chirped, “Okay!” and grabbed the holstaur, moving with almost alarming speed and direction. Cupids were archers, and there was muscle underneath that supple softness. Edith didn’t quite struggle, but she didn’t seem to know how to respond as her hands were yanked behind her back. In moments, February had her almost immobilized.

A moment passed. Edith blinked at him, clearly startled. But she didn’t seem worried.

“After you’ve taken the crepes out,” Lon said to February, “go play with the cat and fox.”

February nodded eagerly. After his approval she released he holstaur, took the crepes out of the oven, and went skipping out of the kitchen, humming all the while.

Edith stared at him, a question on her lips.

He patted his knee. “Come.”

Her eyes lit up, and she rushed over and plopped down in his lap. She batted her eyelashes down at him. “That was mean, Master,” she said, leaning in to kiss him.

He put his finger up before her lips. She pouted. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing to my house.”

“What am I doing?” she asked. She smiled innocently, glancing downwards. “Master seems to be doing all of the work this morning.”

He scowled impatiently, and then realized to his embarrassment that he was still edging. He took his hand away. “The cat and fox whimper your name as much as mine. The goblin maids and cupid are hooked on your milk. The alraune and rose hamadryad in the garden start stroking their cocks every time they see you in the window. The salt mephits can’t get enough of these new pastries, and they don’t even need to eat.”

“And?” She giggled. “Master, they’re just enjoying, themselves!” She snuck in and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Isn’t that what you want?”

He frowned, squirming slightly beneath her. “I… but they’re so… obsessed. What is it about you? How are you tricking them?”

“I’m not tricking anyone.” She kissed him again, humming happily. “Master, when they realize how good it feels, I don’t need to trick anyone.”

“They…” He breathed in, smelling her milk. Even without mind control, it was a delicious drink, and he hadn’t drunk since this morning. “They call you… call you…”

“Mama?” she whispered in his ear, and gave a meaningful wriggle. It felt so, so nice, in his cock’s silken confines…

“Mama,” he whispered, nodding slightly for her to continue.

The holstaur smiled. “Mama Edith takes care of them,” she whispered, swaying from side to side in his lap, slowly edging him. “Mama Edith makes them feel so nice. Haven’t you ever… wondered?”

“W-Wondered?”

“How it feels,” she purred in his ear, “to be someone else’s.” Tingles ran down his spine. “Even for a minute. Even for a second. To be mine.” She pulled back, licking her lips. “To have a Mama to keep you safe, to do all the boring work for you, handle all your worries, all your cares…”

He bit his lip. She felt so nice in his lap, and part of him wanted to skip the edging and go right to the pleasure. But he could always fuck any of his pets. Edith was… was talking about something else, and he had to listen. Had to remind himself that everything she was saying would be a disaster.

“You mean giving up my control,” he said, pulling back slightly.

Her eyes gleamed, and she giggled and batted her eyelashes, giving a flirty little bounce. “It doesn’t have to be forever. Just for a second. Just to play a little. Don’t you like to let your pets play with you a little?”

The question caught him off-guard. “No.”

“Oh, really?” she whispered, leaning in. Uncomfortable with her intense gaze, his eyes slipped down to her heaving cleavage. His cock throbbed beneath her, desperate for a sheathe and yet… enjoying this. Enjoying being played with. “Then why don’t you order them around more? Your kitty and fox love to be naughty, to wake you up early, to edge you. You didn’t stop them, did you?”

“Th-that’s—” He sputtered briefly. “That’s different!”

“And your cupid,” she breathed, stroking his hair, running her hand over his horns. “She loves to flirt, to tease, to tempt. You could order her to just come over here and fuck your brains out…” She giggled. “Although you wouldn’t want that, I suppose! The point is, you let her play at modesty. She still gets to toy with you.”

“I—I don’t—” He shook his head, trying to ignore the truth ringing in her words—how much he enjoyed the cupid’s wicked grins, her knowing giggles and shakes of her hips. But he liked to watch her! That wasn’t giving her control. “It’s different!” he managed, knowing he was repeating himself.

“Ooh, and your goblin maids.” Edith leaned in close, and he shivered at her warmth. It felt so easy to drift into dragonsleep right now. But she wouldn’t let him. She was keeping him awake. “They loooove to test you, don’t they?” She was cooing her words as if to a child, and he was biting his lip to hold in his little sounds as she wriggled back and forth in his lap. Back and forth. Up and down. Keeping him on the edge. “Love to play at dinnertime, even though… don’t you always tell them it’s impolite?”

“Th-That’s right,” he whispered. “I—I try to tell them—”

“But never a lasting order.” The holstaur beamed, snaking her fingers through his hair, taking him by the back of the head. “Never. You let them play every time, test you, tease you… tempt you.”

“N-Nnn…” He shook his head desperately, trying to shake off the implications. But he was getting so horny at that tone in her voice.

“Because it’s just so-o-o-o nice,” she cooed, bouncing rapidly until a whimper slipped from his lips, “to be controlled by pretty girls.” She batted her eyelashes. “Isn’t it?”

His face was flushed. He realized she was pulling him toward her breasts, and he licked his lips. He wasn’t controlled. He was just… letting her play. He even checked to be sure, scanning through his mind, confirming his protections were still up. He was fine.

But why was he letting her do this to him?

“Go ahead, baby,” Edith cooed, and she pressed him to her bosom. He moaned, and latched onto a nipple.

He wasn’t controlled. He was fine. He was just letting her play. He could stop any time he wanted to.

She started to wriggle more pointedly, dryhumping him without mercy. And there was nothing dry about the sweet, delicious milk he was suckling down, tingling over his tongue and down his throat.

“See?” she purred, and he withered at that sly, smug tone in her voice. “It’s soooo easy to just let a pretty girl play with you. Don’t you want to feel even… easier?”

He moaned, trying to shake his head, even as his eyes fluttered shut and he clung to her, running his hands needily over her slender waist, her wide hips, her soft, plush ass rubbing over him…

“Easier,” she purred. “Easier… and easier… and easier…”

Her voice was as soft and sweet as flowing cream. He whimpered and moaned. He could let her pour these words into him all day. But he… but he shouldn’t… but he was still in control, wasn’t he?

“You,” Edith mock-whimpered in his ear, “are being naughty. You simply must answer me.”

“Mm…” he nodded dreamily. It felt so good to let her… let her…

His lips slipped off of her nipple. “What?” he slurred, staring up at her. He felt newly helpless. He knew he was still in control—and he needed to use that, needed to call in the girls to help him, while he still had the good sense that his cock was rapidly pumping right out of him—

“Don’t you want to feel better?” Edith asked.

He hesitated.

“Just a drop,” she cooed, batting her eyelashes.

He bit his lip.

She giggled, and gave a little bounce of her breasts.

“Just… just a little bit?” he asked hesitantly. “A second?”

No, his sense was screaming. No no no no!

“Just to feel how good it feels,” she said, nodding eagerly. “I’ll let you bring your defenses back up immediately.” She tickled his chin, beaming. “A strong, clever dragonboy like you will be fine for a second.”

“A… a second.”

“A second of nice,” she rocked her hips, “ooooozing,” she bounced her tits, “pleasure.”

He whimpered as his cock started to throb, and he realized he was going to come in his pants if she kept this up. And then… then he’d have to take them off… and she’d… she’d…

He bit his lip and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she asked, and winked.

“Yes, please,” he said reluctantly, and immediately wondered why was he saying please.

She beamed and patted his head with approval. She took him and guided him down again. “Just for a second,” she cooed. “Just let it… drop… drop… deep-down-drop…”

He stared up into her pretty brown eyes.

He let his defenses lower.

And he latched onto her nipple and started to suckle. Just… just so he could understand…

She tasted as wonderful as ever. Sweet. A hint of spices, a hint of a kick to it. She was soft, and warm, and gentle as she held him there.

But it was the same. He blinked, letting his eyes close. He let her rock his head against her chest, let her rock her hips, edging him along steadily. He felt sleepy. But that was just dragonslumber. He didn’t feel the mind-melting bliss she’d promised.

So he let it linger a little longer. Just a little longer. He could almost feel it, and he nursed desperately, encouraged by her coos of approval, her praise of what a good boy he was. It felt nice to be a good boy.

The Saline Spine Longyamen suckled at the holstaur’s tit, moaning softly in pleasure. He didn’t feel perfectly brainwashed. Probably because he was only going for a couple minutes of this. But it felt nice. Like he was sliding down a warm, slippery sandy dune, sliding down into the warm waters below.

Slipping deeper. Deeper.

Into the sugary waters.

“That’s good,” he heard Mama Edith purring in his ear, rocking him gently against her. “That’s good, isn’t it? Isn’t it, baby?”

“Mm,” he heard himself moan. It was good. But he wasn’t sure how good it was. It was getting better. Nicer. He was getting sweeter. Sleepier.

Gradually, he noticed her shifting him to her other breast, and he whimpered briefly until he was restored to his suckling rhythm. Her soothing whispers eased his cares. Eased his everything. All he had to do was suck. He was a good boy. A good boy. A good boy for Mama Edith.

The clock behind him gave a musical chime.

It was noon.

The dragon’s eyes widened. It was noon.

Panic filled him as he shoved Mama Edith away. She gave a squeak of surprise, slipping onto the floor and onto her back. For a moment, as her breasts heaved—still squirting a little milk—he thought she’d be unable to get up, weighed down by them.

But she got up easily, rolling into a sitting position. She stared up at him. He stared down at her, trembling, unable to tear his eyes from her breasts.

“February!” he cried. “Arulki! Lik! Lottie! Tuff!”

Mama Edith pouted. “Oh, really, now, baby, there’s no need—” She was starting to get up, her hand drifting up to pinch her nipple idly—

“Stay on the floor!” he barked, infusing his dragonawe into her. She blinked and sat back down. “And hands on the floor! Not touching your breasts!”

She glared. “Hmph.”

“Master!” February raced into the room, eyes wide, the catgirl and kitsune clinging to each arm. “What happened?” The goblin maids were coming up behind them, similarly worried-looking.

“The h-holstaur——she tricked me!” Lon growled. “I want the goblin maids to take her back to her room and lock her in there until I can figure out what to do with her!”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Mama Edith said mulishly, as the goblin maids entered and each took one of her arms. “I just gave him what he wanted. It was his choice to drop his will, not mine.”

“Master’s will is dropped?” February looked at him, stunned. “Are you okay, Master?”

“I’m—I’m fine,” he said, flustered. “I just—a moment’s weakness, that’s all—”

“Master shouldn’t pretend he’s fine for our account,” murmured Lottie, slinking around the chair and plopping down on the left chair arm. She blinked heavy-lidded eyes down at him. “I mean… we’re here to protect him. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” He swallowed. “I just need a moment to… to recover.”

“Of course Master is fine,” Tuff said softly, sitting on the right chair arm. Her tail wafted behind her, still puffed-out from the panic. Her ears flicked, and her eyes were half-closed as she looked down at him. “But it’s okay to admit if you’re not feeling well, Master!” She reached a hand over to brush his hair from his face. “You look a mess.”

“I’m feeling fine,” he insisted, flushing at how he kept repeating himself. But he was fine! Wasn’t he? He felt her fingers tickling over his head, and there was a funny fuzziness, like she was holding a big ball of wool and pressing it into him.

“Are you sure?” Lottie’s eyes were such a pretty blue-green. She blinked at him, her eyes wide, her irises seeming to fill more and more of the whites until it was all he could see. “You seem… tense, Master.” Her fingers skittered down to his chest.

His heart pounded. He felt… weird. He looked nervously down at Mama Edith.

Mama Edith seemed similarly surprised. But there was a growing smugness in those eyes, in that innocent grin, even as she was led away.

“R-Really,” he stammered, looking back at Lottie, as he felt the foxgirl’s tickling fingertips running down to his collar. The fox and cat both had their hands on his chest, taking turns undoing the buttons. One by one, they were popping free. “Really, I don’t need…”

“Master is worrying us,” cooed an impossibly sweet voice, and he felt ruby-red kisses pecking over his neck from behind, felt the cupid’s soft, smooth hot pink hair tickling him. Every kiss felt so… so nice, so sweet, made him feel good and… good and… “Don’t worry, Master. Let us help you!”

They all giggled. Lottie’s eyes sparkled as she popped the last button off. Her fingers and Tuff’s clasped as they came to rest over his tent. Tuff’s fingers made him feel so… so fluffy… good and sweet and fluffy… Lottie’s eyes like deep, endless blue-green pools…

“G-girls,” he whimpered, and he tried to raise his defenses at last. But that tok effort now. It felt so good to leave them down. So good and sweet and fluffy...

“Ooh, Master,” breathed Lik, sliding into her place on his left knee. The goblin maid squirmed a little. “You haven’t even had breakfast!”

“Poor master,” sighed Arulki, dropping smoothly into her place on his right knee. She squirmed a little and giggled “No wonder you’re having so much trouble. Isn’t that right?””

His lips parted, and Lik and Arulki fed a creamy, raspberry-plumped crepe roll into his mouth. He moaned, desperate to complain, but Lottie’s pretty eyes just absorbed the worries, and February’s sweet lips kissed away the words, and all he had left was fluffy nonsense and hungry moans.

The temptresses were giggling in delight as he ate, and moaned, and bucked helplessly, sinking into their control. So soft. So sweet.

It was so easy to just let pretty girls play with him.

“That’s right,” purred Lottie, as Tuff started to tenderly lick his neck, as the goblin maids started to wriggle and bounce, as someone pulled his cock free of its confines. “That’s a goooood dragon. Just nice and sleepy. Don’t worry about a thing.”

He vaguely knew they were moving. The chair was floating through the air, drifting slowly, but rocking ever-so-gently, and he was so warm beneath them…

“We’d better get you,” February cooed, planting a kiss on his cheek that made his head spin with adoration, his heart drown in desire, “to your bed, little dragon. You need to recover.”

“N-No,” he whimpered, but he was silenced by Tuff’s lips this time, as Lik sank down onto his cock and started to bounce. He moaned into the kiss as the goblin maid’s silken sheathe, so warm, so heavenly, took his cock and milked him nice and stupid. Lik squealed in bliss.

He was coming as the chair drifted into the bedroom, and the scent of milk filled the air.

“Bedtime,” cooed the girls in unison, each planting one last kiss.

“Wh…” This wasn’t his bedroom. Even in his trance, Lon felt his mind drifting in uncertainty…

Then he saw the bed, and he knew it was his bedroom. It had to be his bedroom. He knew it was where he was meant to rest his sleepy head, where he was meant to lie down and just… sink. He was absolutely positive.

Because the most beautiful, wonderful creature in the whole, wide world was lounging back in the bed, squeezing her tits and beaming up at him, her smile like a blossoming sunrise.

She spread her arms wide. “Come to Mama!” she sang.

He didn’t have to do a thing. The girls helped him into bed. Mama Edith helped him wrap his arms around her. With one last wicked kiss on the lips, February giggled, winked, and turned him to face the wonderful pale breast. The goblin maids placed their hands on the back of his head and pressed him forward, and he was still gasping from the kiss as milk started to drip onto his tongue.

He felt Edith’s hand stroking his hair, and the other slowly pumping his cock. But all he needed to feel was her soft tits, to taste her sweet, intoxicating milk, and to feel her warm breath in his ear as she cooed…

“That’s my good boy!”

“Mama Edith!” he cried, and he sounded so helpless, so deliciously, wonderfully obedient and controlled and safe…

As she soothed him and encouraged him to continue suckling, he heard the sultry seductresses behind him laughing.

“Look at those lovebirds,” February said smugly.

“Look at him go!” Lottie giggled. “Thirsty, are we?”

There was a pause. They all started walking away, and as the door swung shut, he heard them giggling again, giggles of triumph that would ring in his milk-sopping mind until the next time they came to play with their pet dragon.

He hummed happily, suckling away at Mama Edith’s teat, filling himself with her sweet, thick ambrosia, so heavy, so rich and creamy and irresistible. He almost felt sorry for them. Everybody knew it was much less fun to own the pet than to be one!