Dawn broke over the village in soft pinks and golds, the air still heavy with the scent of last night's public double claim on the square platform. Kira and Kresh lay tangled together near the well—Kira's tail draped possessively over the gnoll's thick thigh, both women marked with drying cum and bite marks, sleeping soundly after the crowd had finally dispersed.
Shabi stood on the longhouse veranda, naked as always, cock at half-mast from the morning chill and lingering arousal. Zara approached from the direction of her wagon—silks freshly changed, hair braided with gold threads, satchel slung over her shoulder. Behind her walked two new figures: tall, armored human women in gleaming plate, wrists bound with enchanted silver chains that glowed faintly. Knight captives—dark-haired, stern-faced, bodies honed by years of training. One had a scar across her cheek; the other's breastplate was dented from a recent fight. Both glared, but their eyes flicked to Shabi's cock with a mix of defiance and unwilling heat.
Zara stopped at the steps, smiling slyly. "My personal gift for the next trade cycle. Sir Alara and Sir Veyra—elite knights from the southern border. They were escorting my last caravan when your reputation reached them. They demanded to 'investigate' the curse-breaker themselves. I convinced them to… accompany me."
Alara—the scarred one—spat. "We came to kill the monster who's corrupting villages. Not to be paraded like whores."
Veyra—taller, blonde—remained silent, but her cheeks flushed, nipples visibly hard under her armor.
Shabi stepped down, circling them slowly. "Kill me? Cute. But you're the ones chained. And I don't see any swords."
Zara laughed—low, throaty. "They surrendered when I told them what you did to the gnoll pack. And what you did to me last night. They want to see for themselves… before they decide."
Shabi gripped Alara's chin—firm but not cruel—tilting her face up. "You're staying for breakfast. And negotiations. Under the table."
He nodded to Mara, the village chief, who waited on the veranda with fresh bread, fruit, and pitchers of milk. The long table was already set—same one from yesterday, still faintly stained from Mila's milk and cum.
Zara led the knights up—chains clinking—seating them on either side of Shabi. Mara took the head again, trying to maintain dignity. The harem arranged themselves around—kneeling, sitting, hovering—ready to serve or tease.
Breakfast began innocently—bread passed, fruit sliced, milk poured.
Under the table, Shabi's hands moved.
First to Alara—pushing her armored skirt aside, fingers finding the warm slit beneath her greaves. She jolted—spoon clattering—but didn't pull away.
He slid two fingers inside her—slow, deep—curling to stroke her front wall. Alara bit her lip hard, cheeks burning.
Veyra received the same—Shabi's other hand slipping under her armor, finding her bare, dripping cunt. She inhaled sharply—trying to keep her face neutral while Mara talked about crop yields.
Zara watched from across the table—legs crossed, fingers idly tracing her own thigh. "The knights have questions about your… methods of breaking curses."
Shabi curled his fingers harder—thumb circling each knight's clit in tandem.
Alara's voice cracked. "How… how do you… ah… ensure loyalty?"
Shabi smiled. "Simple. I fuck them until they beg to stay. Like this."
He sped up—fingers thrusting fast and deep—both knights trembling, thighs shaking under the table. Milk from Mila—kneeling beside him—dripped onto the wood in sympathy, the sweet scent rising.
Veyra came first—silent but violent—pussy clamping on his fingers, slick running down his wrist. She gripped the table edge, knuckles white, biting back a moan.
Alara followed seconds later—body jerking, a choked gasp escaping. Her pussy gushed—pssshhh—splashing under the table, soaking his hand and the floorboards.
Mara cleared her throat—red-faced. "We… can increase milk production… next harvest…"
Zara leaned forward. "Excellent. And the knights? They'll be staying… permanently?"
Alara—panting—managed to glare at Shabi. "You… think this breaks us?"
Shabi pulled his fingers free—coated in their combined slick—and brought them to their lips under the table.
"Lick."
Both obeyed—tongues swirling, tasting themselves and each other on his skin.
Shabi stood—cock fully hard now—grabbing both chains.
"Breakfast is over. Time for the real negotiation."
He led them to the square platform—still stained from last night—crowd already gathering again.
"On your knees," he ordered. "Side by side. Armor off. Show the village how knights bend for the idiot farmer."
Alara and Veyra hesitated—then obeyed—shedding plate piece by piece until they knelt naked, bodies toned and scarred, pussies dripping.
Shabi stepped behind them—thrusting into Alara first—deep, brutal—then switching to Veyra—alternating like he had with Kira and Kresh.
Schlick-slap-schlick.
The knights moaned—defiance crumbling—hips pushing back.
"Beg," Shabi growled.
Alara broke first. "Please… fuck me… own me… I'm your knight slut…!"
Veyra followed. "Breed me… claim me… I surrender…!"
Shabi slammed into Alara one last time—flooding her cunt—then pulled out, spraying the rest across both their backs and asses.
The crowd roared.
Zara approached—chains in hand. "They're yours now. I'll bring more next month. Knights, mages, princesses. An entire tribute."
Shabi grinned—cock twitching again.