Monstrous Ranch Ch. 17

"Uh..." Merisi was panting. Her mind was half-recovering from the slime girls' incessant orgasms, but she knew she was teetering from these new teasing touches. "I... m-message..."

"Aw." Sylvia kissed her on the cheek, giggling. "Soooo much orgasm fatigue! You ran out of normal pleasure hours ago, huh?

Merisi blinked. Everything seemed warm and hazy. But Sylvia. She could see beautiful Sylvia very clearly. But... she frowned, squirming a little against the stroking. Something about this was off.

"That's right," Sylvia purred, continuing to slowly stroke. "All your orgasms came straight from them. Even a sweet girl like you runs out eventually. Your pleasure is just, like, totally pixillated, huh?"

"Uh..." Merisi blinked slower. "P... Pickle..."

Sylia cut her off with a giggle and a kiss right on the lips.

Sweetness filled Merisi's mouth. Without thinking, Merisi moaned and thrust her tongue in. Honey. She needed that honey. She needed it!

Sylvia pulled off, wagging a finger. "Naughty!"

Merisi's head was spinning with mind control whiplash. She was pixillated. Her orgasms... they'd been fey-made. She was so, so vulnerable right now, and this honeyed temptress had her fingers right between Merisi's legs.

"Need to..." Merisi tried to manage the magic to ward herself, but she was too lust-drunk. Pixillated. She blinked blearily, but no matter how many times she blinked, there were Sylvia's beautiful golden eyes. She shook herself. Had to focus. "M-message..."

"Of course!" Sylvia purred. Her fingers gently hooked into Merisi's slick pussy. "I'll take you to a place where you can wait for Senya to arrive, okay?"

"Okay," Merisi mumbled, and she allowed Sylvia to lead her out by her dripping cunt.

"C'mon, sweetie," Sylvia sang, leading her from the bog and towards a distant hill. "I'll get you some nice, hot tea to get your mind off this."

~~~~

The sprint to the Ambrosia Ranch front gates was one of the longest of Senya's life, and not just because he felt a bit sick from trying to run after drinking so much holstaur milk.

The scene at the gates was a disaster. A bloody disaster, and one Senya had to avert his eyes from. He caught a brief glance of bodies, of blood, of twisted, cursed silver blades and crow-masked individuals who had been cut in two. Senya had never seen a true battle site before. He felt like he needed to throw up.

"Master!" He looked up. Bobbin, perfectly unscathed and seemingly untouched by the carnage around her, was rushing over. The hob looked worried. "Are you alright?"

Senya stared blankly at her. "Am—am I—"

"Shit, Boss!" He turned and saw Jerrod hurrying to them from the direction of the hazelnut trees. The stockman's left arm was heavily bandaged, and he carried a longbow in his right. "You weren't in the farmhouse? Bobbin and I figured you'd just gone back upstairs!"

Senya swayed. Bobbin lunge forward and grabbed his shoulder, stabilizing him. "I... I went to the holstaur. And milked her. And left."

Bobbin's eyes narrowed. "You what? This is no time for joking, Master."

Senya bit his lip. "There's a bucket of milk by the barn to prove it. Look, I don't—can't—what the hell happened here?" He couldn't keep the panic and upset out of his voice. "Seven is dead! Who the hell has this much cursed silver?"

Bobbin seemed taken aback. She answered very matter-of-factly. "The crows do."

"How?"

Bobbin grimaced. "We shouldn't be discussing this out here. Let's go back to the—"

"Bobbin!" called a familiar voice. Senya turned.

And there was Kitten. Or... Valina. Or something in between. The catgirl wore a shabby brown robe, a rare departure from her constant nudity, and carried a vast machete-like blade.

She was covered in blood. Her eyes were red—not in a creepy magic way, in a 'just crying' way. Senya stared at the catgirl in confused shock.

Valina was holding one of the crows by long black hair, her eyes narrowed. She held the blade to another's throat. "Two are alive!" she said curtly. "This one is unconscious."

"Hm." Bobbin furrowed her brow. "Interesting."

Senya was still staring at Valina. His lips formed words automatically, with almost no conscious thought. "Bobbin. Seven wanted me to tell you... she said something like, 'don't wait for Market Day.' He hesitated. "No, wait. She said, 'Market Day can't wait.'"

Bobbin glanced at him, blinking rapidly, then gave a grudging nod. "Yeah, I suppose so. Damn." She bit her lip. "It's not good. We really needed the fleece."

"W-why?" Senya waved a hand frantically at the battle site. "Why are you talking about fleece and—and Market Day? Why is—what are—I can't read this!"

He knew he was babbling. His eyes kept flying between Valina, Jerrod and Bobbin. He was still trying desperately not to look at the dead. Senya was about an inch from an anxiety attack at this rate, and it was all he could do to flail and babble and try not to bolt from the scene, just run, just run, run to the farmhouse, run to your bedroom and...

And what?

Bobbin didn't say anything. Instead, she walked over and looked over the two captive crows, biting her lip. "Both fey?" she asked Valina. Valina shrugged.

"Bobbin!" Senya rushed after her, barely keeping his voice steady. "Bobbin, can you just for fuck's sake—"

Bobbin whirled on him. She stared with a look of total, inscrutable consideration. Then she knelt by the crow who had the blade at their throat. "Market Day is a condition of the will," she said. "The will is... haphazard. An imperfect replacement."

"Haphazard? A replacement for what?"

"Your great-uncle worked hard at it," Bobbin continued, her tone as dry as an accountant's diary. "All the previous Masters did. Senya, in order for the wards to hold, you have to be confirmed as Master, to be recognized by the will. That means you have to see to the duties of Warden, which are—which involve overseeing the harvest and sale."

"What..." Senya chose his words carefully, trying to keep his tone level this time. "What does any of this have to do with running a prison?"

Bobbin paused, regarding him coolly. Senya realized he was standing above the slight fey, and practically screaming at her. His heart was pounding. He was surrounded by corpses. He suddenly realized he could only see a few scarecrows still alive in the area.

"The prisoners need to be occupied," Bobbin said, sighing. "And... they need a Warden. They have always needed a Warden. That's not something I made up. But a Warden's duty is more... blurry. It can be cheated. It can get inbred. The magic will not hold up if the Ambrosia Ranch stops operating at efficiency."

Senya stared down at her. She met his gaze.

"Do you understand?" she asked.

"No," Senya said, glaring at her. "And as Master, I order you to... to give me a straighter answer!"

The words surprised even him. He hadn't planned to give orders to Bobbin, he realized. Not ever. It didn't feel right. Not just morally, but... in some other way, he felt like him giving orders to her was backwards. And yet here he was.

Bobbin stared at him. Her jaw tightened.

Senya realized she was trying to resist the order.

For a moment, he wondered what would happen if she did resist it. What would she do then? What would he do?

But the answer came out of her like a line of fishhooks. "The magic of the Ambrosia Ranch," she said haltingly, "is based around its purpose."

"Which is to imprison evil fey."

"Mm." She swallowed. Bobbin was looking slightly nauseous. If Senya had been in a better state of mind, he might have laughed—she was more comfortable kneeling around dead bodies than she was giving him a full answer.

Then again, it wasn't really that funny.

"Master," she said grudgingly, "I... I was not around when the Ranch... was founded. I have served your family for generations, though. Over those generations, the wills have shifted. New provisions get added on. The will is the key, Master. Ownership of the Ranch transfers via the bloodline, which subscribes to the will."

"I know that," Senya said, but he was feeling uncertain.

"The wills have shifted over the generations," Bobbin repeated, more firmly, as she grabbed the conscious, struggling crow. With flicks of her wrist, she bound the figure in glowing golden runic bands. "That makes it hard. Your great-uncle, as you know, left a fairly strict will. He wanted a legacy. Funny, since the ass never thought to father a child." She scowled. "That will outlines the duties of the Warden as..."

And then she almost gagged. She clutched her throat, grimacing. Senya half- wondered if she was in actual pain. Certainly, her voice came out choked, almost wheezing. "... as the master. As every will has since I arrived here, this will labels the Warden as master, not plaything. But there are conditions to being master."

Senya blinked. Swallowed. "Why didn't he make the will simple?" he asked. "Why make it so risky if he knew finding an heir would be hard?"

Bobbin sighed. "Because," she said reluctantly, "he was worried about the new heir running the Ranch poorly. Giving it up. To. Other people. Letting. Letting livestock escape." She rolled her eyes, rubbing her throat. "He didn't want the new heir to be too passive. He wanted to see the place flourish." The hob looked at Senya with a long-suffering expression. "Does that satisfy your curiosity, Master?"

Senya bit his lip. "One mor—two more questions."

Bobbin gave a sarcastic half-bow, still kneeling before the captive.

"First, why are you always holding this back?" Senya tried not to sound angry. He didn't have much anger left in him, anyways. "Why do you always give me... half-answers to things? I thought you were here to help me. Are you even on my side?"

Bobbin considered this, then shrugged. "I held it back because I wanted to take this slow," she said, and she didn't struggle here. "I don't want to push you, Master, because I worry that things will blow up otherwise. I wanted to resolve the will question, finish Market Day, make sure you're officially Master before we look to explaining all the intricacies. I don't want to scare you away. Master, I honestly, truly want to protect you. I like you." Bobbin splayed her hands out in an almost pleading manner. "The last thing I want is to be your enemy. We can do good work here. Together."

A long silence hung between them.

"Okay." He would think about this later. "Second question."

"At your service."

"Why are we pushing Market Day early if it's so important to do it right?"

Bobbin scowled. "Doing it halfway is better than taking too long to do it at all. We've stalled too long hoping for you to... well, sort it all out, and the trouble is that the fleece sprites will stall us further if we wait for them. My goal is to have you active in as much of the harvests as possible—and you're doing surprisingly well at that so far—sell as much as we can, and then harvest the fleece and sell that laTER. I think, if we do all that, the will shouldtake. As long as no livestock takes control of you completely." She winked, though it was clear it wasn't a joke.

Senya chewed his upper lip. "Okay. Okay. I understand." He frowned, looking around. "Are we... are we going to be okay with so many scarecrows dead? What happens if prisoners die?"

"Oh, the scarecrows aren't prisoners." Bobbin wrested off the mask, and whatever she saw made her give a little growl of disappointment. She hit the struggling captive over the head, and they went limp. Senya winced at the contact. "They're aberrations."

"Aberrations?" Senya watched nervously as Bobbin moved over to the other prisoner. Was this just execution?

Bobbin wrested off this mask, and whatever she saw made her give a little, "Yes!" She glanced back at Senya, grinning. "We won't have enough scarecrows to fend off another attack, but we'll rebuild their numbers soon enough. Once you're Master, we'll have perfect control over the prisoners again, and the crows will abandon their little tantrum."

Senya swallowed. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but... "Rebuild their numbers?"

Bobbin gathered the cloaked figure in her muscular arms and lifted her up. It was a her, Senya realized. The hood fell off as Bobbin lifted, revealing shocking red hair and large, fuzzy, tufted orange ears.

It was a kitsune.

"Jerrod," Bobbin called, "head to the woodshed. Don't let the girls there trouble you. Bring back a couple posts.

"Bobbin." Senya's blood ran cold. He stared after her. Mute, Valina stood beside him. "Bobbin, what is this?"

Bobbin glanced back at him, lips pursed. "Monstrous," she said, with a shrug. "Maybe a little, anyways. But we do what we must. It's better than execution." She turned away. "By a certain measure."

~~~~

When Senya had been young, he'd had an unpleasant incident climbing up onto a house roof.

It had been a dare from Anya. Anya was gifted at phasing, even then, and she had easily found her way to the top. She'd called out to him, and he, always the follower, had tried to climb after his sister. A stone had given way.

Anya had felt terrible, of course. They'd stolen bandages and oranges from the house she'd climbed and camped atop the roof for the night.

In the brief second before Senya had completely lost his grip on the handhold, but after the stone had given way.

That was how he felt right now.

Valina shuffled away, shedding her robes. Just like that, she was naked. She waved the sword in two spirals, and it vanished, as if through a trick of the light. She sighed. "Excuse Kitten, Master," she said, her voice hoarse. "Kitten must bathe."

Senya blinked. He took one hesitant step after Valina, then walked up to her. "Valina?"

Valina/Kitten said nothing.

"Are you okay?"

Valina considered the question. Like Bobbin, she had a look like she was pulling a fishhook from her throat when she answered, "Suishu will miss her sister."

Then the lost expression vanished, replaced by a smile and a giggle. "Excuse Kitten, Master," she said, leaning in and kissing Senya on the cheek. "Kitten is messy! Kitten must get clean!"

She turned and skipped back to the farmhouse.

Senya blinked.

"Huh."

~~~~

As he did every night, Senya lay locked in wonderful, tormented pleasure, held pinned to his bed as three puppy sprites mercilessly licked his cock like it was a never-ending lollipop. The redhead and blonde licked his face, giggling at his feeble struggles.

They were feeble because he didn't really want to escape. In the same way Senya knew, deep down, how badly he wanted to be dominated, he wanted this. His struggles were reflexive. His body didn't know any better. Luckily, his puppies were there to steer him straight.

He came yet again onto the face of a brunette, who beamed and cooed in delight as the others briefly licked her face clean. Then they returned to his cock.

As he lay there, lost in happiness, Senya drifted in and out of strange dreams.

Senya lay, whimpering, before the holstaur. She stood over him, smiling smugly. He knew he had to run, but he was immersed up to his neck in warm, tingly butter, and he couldn't even hope to move fast enough to escape. Mommy picked him up in her arms and pushed his head towards her teat. He moaned and struggled, but she silenced his moans with a kiss, then with a nipple. And he at last suckled docilely, pliant and obedient, as he was meant to be.

He lay beneath the puppies. The redhead and blonde had taken to licking his sides and under his arms, giggling at the ticklish way he struggled. He hadn't used to be so ticklish, but now it seemed like everything they did to him was magnified. Like his whole body was becoming attuned to their every slight touch. Like he was meant to be with them.

The hen harpies giggled as their delicate feathers tickled him all over. Senya couldn't recall being captivated by them, but now he lay on the floor of their soft coop as one-by-one, the babbling bimbos mounted him and bounced him to orgasm, their big eyes bright and eager as their prattle reduced his brain to happy mush.

Now the puppies were taking turns suckling delicately, sweetly at the very tip of his cock, and he was cumming over and over again from the concentrated attentions. The blonde and redhead silenced his screams and whimpers and pleas for mercy with endless licks and kisses on his neck and face, drowning him in their love.

He lay atop a great clover tree. Strange women smiled down at him, their eyes compact and golden, their little antennae tickling his bare chest. He was covered in pollen, just like them, and a strange foreign need consumed him.

They were toying with him, teasing him, denying his needy cock until his brain melted into happy honeyed mush. And yet he could only whimper and moan as they used his cock, his tongue, his hands like he was a living sex toy. Her kisses left sticky honey marks all over his buzzing skin.

They praised him. They degraded him. They soaked him in nectar until he couldn't breath. Then they smothered him with their pussies, and he still couldn't breath.

"You miss us," cooed the Queen Beembo, giggling as she bounced atop his stiff cock. "You need us!"

"Need us," echoed the others.

"So silly to leave," Bezzy whispered, wrapping her arms around him. The other beembos fell away, and he found himself staring up into her gleaming gold eyes. "Silly. Silly."

"Silly," he whimpered, wishing he could beg forgiveness. But she silenced him with a sweet kiss that left his head spinning.

"Soon," she cooed, kissing over his neck. He craned his neck, exposing herself to more kisses, whining. More. He needed more.

"Please," he gasped, "please, I want to..."

"Wake up, my silly boy," she purred, delicately caressing a single finger in spirals around his cock head. With her one finger, Senya was reduced to a mindlessly bucking mess. "Wake up. It's time to join us."

"Mm..."

"Wake up, Master."

"Mm..."

"Wake up!"

Senya's eyes shot open.

The first thing he noticed was that his bed seemed strangely cold. He realized this was for two reasons:

First, the lust sprites had inexplicably vanished from his room.

Second, Valina sat in the open windowsill. The nubile catgirl was naked, but her expression left no doubt—this was the free-willed catgirl who had tried to get him brainwashed a week ago.

Senya squirmed, dimly realizing he, too, was naked. He already missed his puppies. His brain was still sluggish, but he reached hesitantly for the nightstand, a vague memory taking him of a whistle he'd left there...

Valina held up a silver whistle, raising an eyebrow. "You want this, huh?"

He stared at her, bewildered. His exposed cock twitched.

She smirked. "Master can have it back soon enough. I needed to get those little demons out of the way."

"Where.. where are they?" he whispered. And what had he been dreaming about? Something strange. He so rarely remembered his dreams these days.

Valina giggled. "I may have left the door to the cupid's room open."

Senya blinked. "We... we have a cupid?"

The catgirl sighed, taking him by the hand. Senya noticed her fingers were slick, and wondered just how long she'd been sitting there. The thought made his heart flutter. "The door across from Master's room. The guest room."

"Oh." Senya followed, docile as a kitten, as Valina hoisted him up into her arms and approached the window. "Okay. Where are we going?"

Cradling him in her arms, the catgirl smiled. Her breasts were right in Senya's face, and he had the strangest sense of deja vu. "Master will understand soon enough. Master must be a good boy for Kitten, now."