by Reed James
It soiled her and yet she still looked so proud. Unashamed. It was such an attractive quality.
“Master,” Nathalie said, tucking my cock back into my leather trousers. “You can't go save all those people with your dick out.”
“Though the women we save would probably enjoy it,” giggled Zanyia.
“Oh, yes, they would,” Nathalie nodded, her braided pigtails swaying about her shoulders, her small tits jiggling.
The four feyhounds lounged around the clearing, looking so satiated while poor Cú Mheá whined and panted, licking at his poor, hard cock. If we didn't have to stop Prince Meinard and save all those people enslaved by him, I'd let that feyhound rut to his heart's content in Nathalie's pussy.
While I enjoyed my sister.
But we had a mission. I let Nathalie lace me up as my sister pulled on her pink robe. She belted it, her body and face still flushed, a vital red adding such zest to her pale skin. She gave the big feyhound who'd fucked her a fond smile like she wanted to keep him, then glanced at me.
“Well, brother mine? Done satisfying your perverse desires? Or do I need to rut with Cú Mheá for your pleasure?”
“After, sister dear,” I said, loving the twinkle in her blue eyes. “When we're celebrating our victory.”
She laughed, the sound so rich and delightful.
~ * ~
Kora Falk
I could see the stocks through the trees situated on Réimse Seamair. It appeared to be a vast meadow. And there were so many stocks, each with a person in them. I shivered at that, shaking my head at the monstrosity of Prince Meinard's actions.
If he had an army of thousands of animated statues, then there must be thousands of humans out there, all shackled to the lodestone. It was such a terrible thing. It felt worse than normal slavery. At least then they'd still have their minds free.
“You can do this,” Sven told me, stroking my arms through my pink robe.
I nodded my head. “This will be easy. It's just an illusion. I don't have feyhounds to distract.”
Just treemen. And they weren't constructs but living creatures. Nor did they have the feyhounds' keen senses. I could create the distraction that would keep them busy. The massive pine tree before me, reaching high up into the sky, was perfect.
My brother hugged me and kissed me on the mouth. I shuddered, clinging to him. His leather jerkin creaked against me. His hands squeezed my rear through my robe, pulling me so tight against him.
“I love you,” he said when he broke the kiss. “Don't get yourself killed.”
“I'm not the one sneaking out through the stocks to the Lodestone,” I said. “I have the safer job.”
“Do you?”
I shivered. “Yes. I'll be hidden with Nathalie. Stop worrying. You need to focus.”
He took a deep breath and let me go.
“Mistress,” Zanyia purred as she threw her arms around me. She rained hot kisses across my face. “Be safe.”
“You watch out for my brother.”
“I won't let him be reckless,” she said.
“Let me?” Sven asked, his voice sounding amused. “You're my slave, remember?”
“And a good slave knows when to ignore her Master's commands,” the lamia said, a toothy grin on her lips.
“Like when I tried to free you?” Sven asked. “Or when you made Nathalie my slave?”
“I made myself your slave, Master,” Nathalie said.
“And she's a good slave,” Zanyia said. Then she darted to Sven's side.
Aingeal stepped up to me. “Well, my dear sister-in-law, I want you to paint the hottest fire ever.”
“I will,” I said, trembling. I wanted to trust Aingeal, I did. But... She had a connection with this Duke Gallchobhar. A connection that could get my brother killed if she had some other scheme in mind. Some other way to get back at him. I wanted to ask why she hated him.
She hugged me, her big breasts pillowing against mine. Her lips found my ear. “I won't betray him. You saw to that. I love him.”
I shivered.
“I want this,” she added. “I want Duke Gallchobhar to pay!”
“Okay,” I said, hugging her back, trying not to crush her delicate butterfly wings. They fluttered, the tops brushing the bottom slopes of my arms. “You better not. I'm more than a little fond of my brother.”
“I know. I've seen you ride his dick.” Then Aingeal kissed me. I shuddered at the passion on her lips. They were plump and hot. I quivered, my arms tightening across her upper back. Then she broke away, leaving me struggling to catch my breath.
My brother, Aingeal, and Zanyia slipped out of the woods into the clearing as I began my count. “One, two, three...”
I crept in the brush with Nathalie, lying down on my stomach and staring at the tree as I counted. I slid my hand beneath my body and slipped it into my robe. I shuddered as I found my shaved pudenda then the wet folds of my pussy. I stroked up and down my slit, lubing my digits with my juices.
“...sixty-nine, seventy, seventy-one...
I needed my pussy juices. They would be the paint I created my illusion out of. I shifted my hips, brushing my clit. Despite the fear weighing down my belly, heat rippled through me. My body responded to my touches.
“...one hundred and two, one hundred and three, one hundred and four...”
My fingers became slippery with juices. I pictured in my head the art I would paint in the real world, the flames crackling up the branches of the tree, the pine turning into a blazing torch to light up the night. I would need a lot of paint.
“...one hundred and twenty-five, one hundred and twenty-six, one hundred and twenty-seven...”
My heart pounded in me. My hips shifted off the ground as my pussy cream dripped down my fingers and coated my hand. I rubbed my clit. My ass clenched and my pussy grew so tight. My nipples poked at my robes, pressed into the ground and throbbing as I twitched.
“...one-hundred and sixty-three, one hundred and sixty-four, one hundred and sixty-five...”
The tension grew in my stomach despite the lust my stroking fingers conjured. My brother and his women slipped deeper and deeper through the stocks, closer and closer to the three treemen who guarded it. What if this didn't work?
“...one-hundred and eight-five, one hundred and eight-six, one hundred and eighty-seven...”
What if they didn't care about trees burning, like Aingeal claimed they would?
“...one hundred and ninety-one, one hundred and ninety-two, one hundred and ninety-three...”
What if they instead spotted my brother and killed him?
“...one hundred and ninety-seven, one hundred and ninety-eight, one hundred and ninety-nine...”
Time to find out if they'd come.
“...two hundred.”
I took a deep breath as I finished my count. Nathalie let out a whimpering groan beside me. I pulled my hand from my pussy, soaked in my pussy juices. So much paint to create my illusion with. I fixed the image in my mind, staring at the pine tree through the brush.
“Rithi, bless my sexual juices and let them paint new beauty in the world,” I prayed.
The juices on my hand sparkled. The power surged out of me as my fingers moved, painting my art upon the world. Nathalie gasped as fire erupted around the tree. A vast, roaring crackle filled the air as the flames appeared to devour the tree, climbing higher and higher. A harsh, red-orange light flooded the night.
A beacon to draw the treemen away from the lodestone.
Chapter Forty-Five: The Stocks
Aingeal
“This is terrible,” I said as we entered the stocks, Cú Mheá padding along beside me.
As far as I could see across the meadow were row upon row of wooden stocks. Spirits of Enchantment danced around each one, imbuing the wood with their magic. Humans were slumped in them, men and women both. They were naked, their knees bent, their heads and hands shoved through the stocks. Their eyes were open but focused on nothing. They
breathed slowly but made no other sound. Their souls were far away, imbuing statues of soldiers for this horrid Prince Meinard.
“Gods, this is monstrous,” Sven said, shaking his head as we moved closer and closer to the center.
“I can't believe Duke Gallchobhar would do this,” I said, a fury rising. “I didn't even think he could sink so low. If Queen Sidhe discovers this...” My wings fluttered. Hope surged through me. Would this restore my name and my family's land usurped by that bastard?
Would it undo my prank's consequences?
My wings fluttered as we padded deeper and deeper into the stocks. We passed unseeing face after unseeing face. Most were Zeutchian humans, hair blond or light brown, skin pale. But there were a few red-skinned Thlinians, and I spotted one redheaded Tuathan from the Lesh-Ke Mountains.
“These are his own people,” I said. “And he lets that Shizhuthian naga enslave them for him?”
“To keep his hands clean,” growled Sven. “Publicly, he has patrols that roam along the Despeir Mountains to prevent it.”
Zanyia hissed in annoyance. Then she said, “I just reached two hundred.”
Sven paused, peering ahead. The treemen towered over the stocks, dark shapes moving around a large stone in the center. They were another race born of Las, all male. The God of Lust's cum had fallen on a grove of trees to birth them. Many had come to Faerie to escape humans cutting down their woods. They stood three times the height of a human, living trees who could batter down walls with their strength.
Red light flared behind us. I blinked at the intensity of it, shadows dancing before us. I looked over my shoulder at the illusion Kora had conjured. It lit up the night like a miniature sun. The massive pine tree blazed and kindled.
“Come on,” Sven muttered at the hulking shadows, crouching beside a stock holding a middle-aged man, streaks of gray in his blond hair. “That's a tree in danger.”
The three treemen had paused their patrol. They creaked as they turned towards the burning tree. My wings fluttered. They had to take the distraction. They lived to protect their kin, as they saw other trees. Why weren't they moving? I stroked Cú Mheá, my heart beating faster and faster.
“Can we fight them?” asked Sven.
“Not easily,” I answered. “My illusions will work on them, but look at the size of them. They could crush any one of us as easily as swatting a fly.”
Zanyia swallowed.
And then the shadows moved. I heard their creaking joints and the thud of their footsteps. Sven grinned as they strode away from the lodestone. I moved behind a stock, pressing against it as the treemen came closer, not straight at us, but they would pass nearby.
Their forms resolved out of the darkness. Instead of skin, they had thick, gnarled bark. Fuzzy moss, a pale gray-green color, gave them the appearance of beards and hair. Their limbs were made of branches twisted together, much like a feyhound or a spriggan. But these had little, trefoil leaves growing out of strange spots, like errant hairs on a human body.
The ground shook as they passed, their gazes fixed on the tree. They moved with rapid strides. I shuddered, hoping Kora would be safe. She just had to distract them long enough for us to destroy the lodestone.
“Okay,” Sven said. “They're past. Let's hurry.”
I nodded my head and followed after him, my faithful feyhound at my heels.
~ * ~
Zanyia
“Wait!” I hissed, pausing as we neared the lodestone. I could see it up ahead, a massive stone veined with rusty metal. It stood the size of a house. “Don't step closer, Master.”
He froze as he crouched ahead of me. He stared at the ground. “Las's putrid cum.”
“What?” Aingeal asked.
“Pit trap,” he said. He pulled out a dagger, prying at the meadow before him at the seam I spotted. “There's a thin board over the ground here with grass on top of it. Step on it, board breaks and drops you into a deep pit, probably with spikes at the bottom.”
“There's more, Master,” I said, looking around the ground. “See the footprints of the treemen. They patrol in a zigzagging pattern through the last ring of stocks around the lodestone.”
“No prints here,” Sven said, staring at the ground. “They don't even try to step over it.”
“Why take the chance?” I said with a shrug. I climbed up onto a stock holding a blonde girl, drool running down her chin, her face slack. I stood on the rough wooden frame holding the poor girl in place. The treemen were almost to the blazing illusion behind us. I studied the area, noting the trampled path.
“See a path?” Master asked.
“Of course I do,” I said, my tail swaying.
~ * ~
Kora Falk
The heavy thud of the treemen came closer and closer. Nathalie whimpered beside me as the ground shook. Those dark shapes loomed so tall. They entered the light of the illusion, revealing their hoary appearance. They were gnarled and tall, their legs thick, their feet circular with root-like toes jutting in every direction.
“Just be quiet,” I whispered, my fingers dancing again, ready to modify my illusion. My left hand rubbed at my pussy, gathering more of my juices to paint with.
One of the treemen dipped his hand into a nearby pond. He scooped out water and threw it at the blazing pine tree. The water twinkled like diamonds before splashing against the tree. I added a hissing sound to the illusion and steam billowing from the flames.
I smiled, my fingers dancing as more and more water splashed at the tree. The three treemen arced it through the air. It splattered branches. I let some flames go out, leaving what looked like charred branches in the flame's wake. More and more steam rose, filling the air as the fire crackled in protest.
I switched hands, my right dry. My left danced as I kept focusing on my art. I shuddered, rubbing my pussy, delight surging through my body. I plunged all four of my fingers into my snatch, fighting my whimper as I coated them in my cream.
I could keep these three occupied all night if I had to. And since the sun never rose in Faerie, that would be a long time.
~ * ~
Sven Falk
Anger beat through my heart. I thought I hated that bastard Prince Meinard before. But this... This endless field of men and women, even children, imprisoned in the stocks, their souls slaved to statues. They were forced to fight and fight and fight. What horrors did these poor people witness? Did they think they were in a nightmare? Trapped in stone. Unable to move except to march into battle and kill.
My hand clenched on my short sword as I followed Zanyia through the safe path, winding through the last circles of stocks. Through the people who had been imprisoned the longest. Years they'd spent here, stolen from their lives and loved ones.
My teeth ground.
My blood boiled.
“This will be answered, my husband,” Aingeal whispered from behind. Her hand rested on my shoulder, squeezing. “This will not go unpunished.”
“By the gods it won't,” I snarled. “By Gewin's bloody sword and Dauthaz's deathly touch, it won't.”
The closer we stalked to the Lodestone, the more my arms tingled. My hairs stood up on end. Energy radiated from it. I could feel it bleeding off the stone. So much magic danced about it. So many layers of enchantment wreathed it that even I could feel it.
Zanyia led us along the last ring, the stone just twenty feet away. She kept passing gaps in the stocks that bore no footprints. The outline of pit traps ringed it until she reached one. A gap. She smiled and darted through it for the stone, scampering on all fours. I followed after, my heart thudding.
It was time for Prince Meinard's power base to crumble. Without his immortal army, he couldn't conquer the world.
Couldn't keep me from finding his throat and killing him.
“Aingeal,” I said. “Can you disrupt it?”
“Yes, I can,” she said with such fierceness. “It would be all my pleasure, my husband.”
~ * ~
Ko
ra Falk
I ripped my fingers out of my pussy, switching hands. I used up so much paint, but my cunt kept a ready supply of juices. The treemen had put out half the fire. But they were having trouble reaching the upper branches. I made the parts already drenched sizzle, the flames creeping back down to undo their progress.
The treemen groaned in frustration. I took such delight in creating this distraction. I couldn't wait to hear from Ava on how her father reacted when he realized his grand army of imbued statues were lifeless once again.
It made me quiver, my pussy squeezing down on my probing fingers, soaking them in more of my juices.
One of the treemen let out a frustrated bellow sounding like a massive oak tree groaning as it swayed in a storm. It slammed a foot into the ground before throwing a sheet of water high into the air.
And splashed just below the “flames.”
I smirked.
“Mistress,” Nathalie hissed.
“Shhh,” I said, my fingers dancing before me, the pussy juices slowly drying off my digits, transmuted by my Goddess into art.
“No, Mistress, look!” She pointed up.
I lifted my gaze to the top of the blazing tree. I frowned. Why was Aingeal fluttering around my illusion? But, no, this figure lacked her large breasts. It had a more solid build. Male. A cock bobbed before him. A handsome and dashing youth, golden hair and butterfly wings reflecting back the illusory fire. He stared down, his eyes blazing with silvery light, like twin moons shining above.
And then my illusion vanished. Suddenly, the pine tree no longer smoldered, no longer even appeared burned. It only looked wet, water dripping from the pine needles. I gasped in shock, my Goddess's prayer ruined. My art destroyed.
My heart hammered. I struggled to think, to wonder what to do next. My entire body tensed, fear demanding I run while my brain struggled to process what was happening. Did the fey know we were here?
Why was he even here? The pixie claimed Duke Gallchobhar was gone. Aingeal said he'd be at his palace.
“In the bush,” the fey said, his voice light, almost effeminate as he stared right down at me. “The whores are in there. Kill them.”
