by Hondo Jinx
“Yes,” Tilly moaned.
“What do you want, handmaiden?”
“I want to serve my Meadow Master. I want him to use me.”
“And?”
“I want him to seed me.”
Spinner whimpered, drawing their attention, and Philia slapped the silk sprite’s deft little fingers from where they had been furiously rubbing her glistening sex.
“Wait your turn,” Philia scolded, giving Spinner’s big, sweet bottom a crisp smack for emphasis.
“Yes, Meadow Mother,” Spinner panted.
Philia guided Braddock’s tip between Tilly’s legs and pressed it against the hot wetness of her tiny sex.
“I don’t think this is going to work,” he said, frowning down at the horny sprite’s miniature slit.
“Certainly it will work, husband,” Philia said. Grabbing a handful of black tresses, she pulled Spinner over, commanded the blushing, buxom beauty to stand, and bent her down until her bright red lips were half an inch from Braddock’s throbbing manhood. “You merely need some lube.”
Philia pushed Spinner’s head forward.
Reflexively, Braddock started to pull back, not wanting his wife to impale the poor girl, but he needn’t have worried.
Spinner’s eyes bulged, but her lips spread beyond what seemed possible, and she shoved her mouth forward, taking every inch of him down her throat with barely a gurgle.
As soon as Braddock’s balls slapped Spinner’s chin, she winced, uttered an understandably muffled cry, and convulsed with a powerful orgasm that set her big, beautiful body to quivering, making Braddock crazy with desire. With every jerk and moan, Spinner pumped her mouth up and down, milking his manhood as her juices rained down on the stones below.
Philia pulled Spinner’s head back. The silk sprite whimpered plaintively when Braddock’s member popped from her mouth, the entire length purple and vascular with excitement and sparkling with saliva.
“Please,” Tilly begged.
“Patience,” Philia said, and started to guide Braddock once more toward the blond sprite’s loins, but he brushed his wife’s hand aside and took over.
He was through being treated like a breeding stud. He was a man of free will, and this was his domain. He was the Meadow Master, and it was his choice to seed this little handmaiden and make her his Meadow Mistress forever, so he wouldn’t have Philia directing the action.
He pushed up against the tiny woman’s soft folds.
Tilly rocked her hips back and forth, trying to rush him, but he wouldn’t have her directing the action, either.
These willful little ladies had a thing or two to learn about their Meadow Master.
And truth be told, Braddock supposed he was learning a thing or two about himself at the same time.
Completely encircling Tilly’s miniscule waist in his big hands, he lifted her into the air then stood. “Keep your legs spread.”
Tilly’s wings fluttered automatically, lifting her upper body. Gripping her tightly in his hands, Braddock lined up his pulsing rod with her wet pinkness, and she hovered there jutting straight from his body with her legs spread.
Braddock inched forward and slipped into her as easily as he had entered Spinner’s mouth.
As his thickness spread Tilly’s slit to impossible limits, she cried out with climax, jerking against him, fluttering her wings faster than ever, and showering her juices down on Spinner, who lay on her back beneath them with her mouth wide open and her tongue out.
Braddock pulled his flying lover backward, spreading her tight channel until he was buried to the hilt and her silky walls were convulsing around him, torturing her with euphoria.
Once he saw what was possible, he stopped fooling around and got down to business, pumping his hips and yanking Tilly back into him, rocking the sprite’s tiny body with every hard, deep thrust, leading her through a dozen explosive orgasms until he burst deep inside her, seeding her womb, claiming her as his loyal mistress, and, judging by Tilly’s whoop of joyful surprise and the bright green aura that came to life around her and Philia, triggering new power within them.
“Thank you so much, Meadow Master!” Tilly said, popping free and zipping up to smother him in kisses. “I will love you forever!”
Braddock felt a surge of new prowess coursing through his own body as well. But in that moment, his attention was fixed elsewhere.
Down on the floor, Spinner was bucking and uttering garbled cries of passion like a snake-handling holy roller on Pentecost.
The mingled fluids of Braddock’s lovemaking with Tilly were spattered all over Spinner’s pretty face and large breasts and apparently making her climax again and again.
Still aching with desire, Braddock dropped into a crouch, spread the climaxing sprite’s legs, and entered her missionary style.
Spinner’s eyes flew wide open, and she stared into his eyes, transfixed and still climaxing, gasping through parted, bright red lips between which hung heavy strands of seed and Tilly’s juices.
Braddock pumped away rhythmically, giving her nothing fancy, just long, full strokes that spread her wide, bottoming out with each plunge of his manhood, bumping into the inflamed nub at the apex of her sex and pointedly grinding across it with his pelvic bone so that each repetition caused a fresh explosion of orgasm.
Tilly’s golden-haired head appeared as she licked Spinner’s face clean and kneaded her wobbling breasts as she kissed her deeply.
Braddock hadn’t lost an iota of hardness, but having known release so recently, it took longer for the urgency of impending climax to build again, so he pummeled the plump little sprite for a solid fifteen minutes.
The whole time, she never stopped climaxing.
Meanwhile, Tilly scrambled over her fellow handmaiden like a diligent dust fairy, cleaning their juices from every nook and surface of Spinner’s glorious body, then settled atop Spinner’s pretty face, riding the raven-haired beauty’s slurping mouth while Tilly sucked and licked at the union of Braddock’s sexual congress with Spinner, flicking her tongue against both sexes and drinking the ever-gushing juices of his lover.
When Braddock finally burst inside Spinner, he shoved Tilly gently aside, wanting to see the newcomer’s reaction, and it was a sight to behold.
Her beautiful body wobbled in a celestial symphony of spheres, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she, too, glowed with fresh power.
A second later, they all felt the meadow ascend to a new level, filling them with a rush of incredible force that warmed their bodies.
That night, with new strength coursing through his body, Braddock ate at dinner at the head of the table, feeling incredibly happy and suddenly more confident in their chances.
His wife and Meadow Mistresses doted on him and took turns sliding in and out of his lap and stealing kisses.
“Mmm,” Philia purred, slinking up beside him, her gown all but disappearing as she nipped at his ear. “Husband, you were already incredibly attractive, but bonding with your mistresses has greatly enhanced your charisma. I can’t keep my hands off you.”
Braddock reckoned that was mostly her elation talking, but judging by the way all three sprites kept cuddling up to and kissing him, maybe there was some truth in her words.
The fur folk toasted him over and over, raising their little clay goblets and guzzling their foul wine.
Chundra sat at the other end of the table and kept raising his mug in Braddock’s direction and doing his best not to strike any of the female fur folk that were constantly crawling in and out of his own lap.
Braddock truly felt like the Meadow Master. And he was happy to see his furry friend rise to power among his people.
It was a grand night.
The only unhappy member of the party was, predictably, Elizabeth.
When she came in for dinner and saw Braddock draped in sprites, she made a face like she’d swallowed a spider then left without so much as fixing a plate.
Oh well. As Braddock told Elizabet
h before, his love life was none of her business.
Besides, the fiery redhead had made it clear that she would have it no other way, so whatever her problem was, she could work that out on her own.
He wouldn’t let her moodiness ruin this happy night for him, his women, or their friends.
So they ate and laughed, and the fur folk drank and sang and danced, and Braddock’s wife and mistresses kissed him and each other and joined in the singing, and life was good.
Yes, it had snowed. Yes, winter was upon them. No, they weren’t ready.
But they had done what they could, and they were very happy, if only for the moment.
And that night, as testament to the attractive powers of happiness, Braddock woke to a light rapping at the door and unlocking it, found a pair of tiny sprites hovering at eye level with hopeful looks on their faces.
“That didn’t take long,” Philia whispered, smiling beside him. “I hope you are feeling energetic, husband.”
29
Esper was a kitchen sprite with hair as orange as fresh carrots and eyes as green as carrot tops. She was lean and nervous and never seemed to stop moving. Before defecting, she had been the first assistant to Hortensia’s head chef.
Lala’s straight hair hung in a shimmering, plum-colored curtain all the way to mid-thigh. She was a confident and expressive show maiden who, Philia assured Braddock, could sing and dance like an angel.
“Or like a demon, if you so desire, Master,” Tilly added with a knowing grin.
They welcomed the new handmaidens with traditional disdain and decorum.
Then, as first daylight splintered over the meadow, Braddock seeded them both atop a world blanketed in snow.
Esper was sweet and submissive, tight and nervous, and very, very wet. Pale nipples tipped the subtle nubs of her tiny breasts. Her bottom was high and compact and firm to the touch.
Of all the sprites, Esper had the lightest skin. Faint green freckles dotted her lean back, and when Braddock rolled her over, he noticed thin spindles of orange in her green irises, which stared, full of emotion, into his eyes, as his girth stretched her beyond all natural limits.
Esper wept for joy as they bonded and had such a powerful orgasm that she lost consciousness for several seconds.
Lala was a different handmaiden altogether. She was taller than the other handmaidens by several inches, with long limbs that moved so fluidly they belied their firm, smooth muscles.
Shockingly flexible and far more dramatic than her fellow escapee, Lala screamed so loudly with passion that Braddock imagined an enraged Elizabeth plugging her ears in her cabin next door.
Lala urged Braddock on, begging him to pull her hair as he rode her from behind. Always attentive to his lovers, Braddock grabbed a fistful of her long, purple hair and bent her head back as he pounded some of the self-assuredness out of her.
After each seeding, Braddock, his women, and their meadow powered up and drew closer than ever.
Suddenly, Braddock had a wife and four mistresses, all of whom were overjoyed with the arrangement.
He felt stronger, more energetic, and faster, somehow… as if the world around him had slowed slightly.
To experiment, he drew Cleaver and sliced the blade back and forth several times.
Yes, he was faster. Only incrementally but in combat, the difference between victory and death often came down to the slightest advantages.
Not all his new power burned within him, however. Somehow, he had tapped into an invisible external force as well. Standing in the meadow, he could feel it all around him like a pocket of warm air.
He explained the feeling to Philia, who smiled brightly. “That is wonderful news, husband! You have strengthened your connection to the meadow, and it is sharing power with you now. What you are feeling is a faint aura.”
Philia gestured to her own green radiance, which had brightened noticeably. Her eyes, smile, and skin all glowed with health and good humor.
Fresh vitality also crackled from the handmaidens as, led by Lala, they sang and pranced and swung each other in whirling spheres of elation, sometimes on tiptoes, sometimes in the air, a giggling flutter of naked lovelies overcome with joy as new vigor surged within them.
As they circled and twirled and arched overhead, each of the women stole glances in Braddock’s direction until something in him prickled, wondering if they were going to attack en masse and ravish him as one.
With his new endurance, he could probably handle another round, even if all of them wanted a fresh seeding, but he wasn’t about to find out.
It was still winter. And he still had work to do.
Besides, other sprites could show up at any time.
Though according to Esper and Lala, that wasn’t likely. As they fled Hortensia’s domain, a crackling green dome had encased the meadow.
“The green shield,” Philia had said, sounding almost awed. “Nothing comes in, and nothing goes out. Hortensia must be getting seriously concerned.”
At the moment, none of Braddock’s sprites seemed very concerned. They whirled around him, tittering and giggling and flashing him lascivious glances.
Tilly laughed, “Elizabeth stands no chance of resisting our Master now!”
The others laughed, and Esper, sounding dumbfounded, said, “Why in the world would she want to resist Master in the first place?”
“Playing hard to get,” Lala guessed, the words coming out in song as she fluttered overhead, trailing the luxurious cape of her shimmering hair. “She no doubt desires him even more than we do.”
“Not possible!” Spinner said and darted in to plant a fleeting kiss on Braddock’s lips.
“Your handmaidens are crazy,” Braddock told Philia. “They’re thinking of Elizabeth like she’s a sprite.”
“Perhaps they are,” Philia said with an amused smile, “but you, on the other hand, dear husband, are thinking of Elizabeth as if she were a man.”
He snorted at that.
“Go ahead and laugh, husband, but I am astonished by your lack of understanding in relation to our sweet, red-haired sister. You are a bold and intelligent man, a confident and miraculous lover, and extremely perceptive in the natural world, able to read whole narratives into the slightest signs of the forest. And yet you are blind to Elizabeth’s emotions… and her desires.”
He snorted again, but this time, the noise sounded forced even to Braddock’s ears.
Was Philia right? It didn’t even seem possible.
“And Tilly has a point, husband. You seem to be unaware of the fact that your charisma has surged again. For as irresistible as you were when I first met you, your appeal has grown tenfold. It’s all I can do, all your mistresses can do, all any monster girl who meets you will be able to do to resist stripping off our clothes, spreading our legs, and begging for your seed.”
“Good to know,” Braddock said, wanting to switch the subject. Nothing felt so good as making love, but there was more to life than pleasure. “But I have work to do.”
Philia laughed. “Spoken like a true Meadow Master. Always thinking of his land and his people, always working to shore up defenses and prepare stores against times of want. We are so lucky to have you, husband.”
“Yes, we are!” his mistresses chorused, settling around them.
“Thank you, ladies,” Braddock said, pulling on his duds again. “And likewise.”
“Unfortunately, I doubt we will have more interruptions anytime soon,” Philia said. “The green shield will make it impossible for willing sprites to escape.”
“We are so lucky we made it when we did,” Esper said, hugging her skinny body and shuddering at the thought.
“Yes,” Lala agreed, “those poor, stranded sprites. If only there was a way to rescue them.”
“Don’t get any bright ideas, girls,” Philia said. “That sort of intrusion would change the rules and allow Hortensia to attack our meadow. I’m sure when she erected the green shield, she was hoping we would try somet
hing foolish like that.”
“Perhaps wayward sprites from other meadows will sense our seedings and come flying,” Tilly suggested.
“We will hope they do,” Philia said. “Eventually, however, Hortensia must lift the shield. Certainly, when the weather breaks in spring if not sooner.”
The other sprites nodded in agreement.
“Until then, we will hope for wayward sprites,” Philia said, “and I am confident that other monster girls will soon throw themselves at our Meadow Master. They, too, will increase his power.”
“And ours?” Lala asked.
Philia nodded. “Not as much as the welcoming of another sprite, of course; but yes, we will gain power every time our husband bonds with another monster girl.”
The handmaidens cheered as if Philia had handed them a strawberry pie.
Braddock laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “You don’t do things by half measures, do you, darlin?”
Philia laughed. “Life is to be lived, husband, not pondered.”
Now, it was Braddock’s turn to laugh. His whole life he had been accused, in varying turns of phrase, of living too boldly. He was a trailblazer, mountain man, and cavalry scout—and always the first to mount a wily bucking bronco. This was the first time he’d been told carpe diem. “Duly noted.”
“And will we gain power when Master seeds Elizabeth?” Tilly asked, eyes glowing hopefully.
“Perhaps,” Philia said. “I am greatly interested to see what happens when the Meadow Master bonds with his human.”
“Hold on there, darlin. You keep talking as if we’re destined to be together, but what you’re proposing is an ‘if’ at best. You keep acting like Elizabeth doesn’t have a say in the matter.”
All five sprites burst into laughter as if he had just told the funniest joke in the world.
“You girls have fun giggling. Meanwhile, the sun’s up, and I have work to do.”
As Braddock walked to the stable, he could feel the meadow stretching away in all directions. The land was drowsy beneath its thin blanket of snow but warming with the light of day. Out beyond his sight, the herd was grazing.