gigglinggoblin:“Drink up, sweetie! We’ve only got a few minutes to break you.”Elvara needed to stop
gigglinggoblin:“Drink up, sweetie! We’ve only got a few minutes to break you.”Elvara needed to stop drinking. She absolutely had to. It was a very high priority for her. Her lips made loud slurping noises as she hungrily suckled, savoring the unbearably sweet honey as it coursed down her throat.“Already, I’m sure you can feel your cute little human mind getting all gooey and soft for me.” The Thrae giggled. Elvara felt her stroking her hair. “You’re such a good girl, drinking so, so much!”Elvara knew she needed to stop. She needed to pull away. The test subject was loose, had broken free somehow—… Well, not exactly “somehow”; Elvara had left the key in the cell. It had been so, so wrong to do it, but it had felt so good to obey. It was this act, the act of a good girl, that had encouraged the Thriae to let her drink after only a minute or so of desperate pleading and self-degradation.“But you need to drink lots and lots of honey if you want to be my favorite,” the bee fey cooed. Fingers slithered down Elvara’s naked body, caressing her hanging breasts possessively. “’Cause I’m gonna have a lot of good girls and boys to choose from when I’m through with this little Tower of yours!”Elvara whined as she suckled at the Thriae’s teat. That thought terrified her more than anything—the thought that she might become replaceable. That one day, the Thriae would have no more need for her, would deny her the honey Elvara so adored. What felt like a lifetime ago (but was in fact a week), she had begun to carefully drink the Thriae honey from a cup. An experiment. A very reckless experiment. And then an open indulgence. Soon, it had become an addiction. And then she had begun to crave the source.And then, two days ago, the Thriae had started issuing cute little “suggestions”.She had to resist. Had to break free, sound the alarm. All she had to do was alert someone—anyone—and the wards could be raised, the Tower could be rescued. She could be rescued. All she had to do, even, was hold out until one of her fellow mages showed up to check up on her.This fey only had a few minutes to break her.“But don’t worry,” the Thriae purred, pressing Elvara’s unresisting head against her soft, smooth flesh. Elvara whimpered, feeling her mind turning sweeter and more obedient by the second. “There’ll be lots more of us arriving soon enough.”With her free hand, she tugged the nipple Elvara wasn’t drinking from, and a few drops of the drugged mead squirted onto Elvara’s own breast and began to tingle.And from this, the promises made, and her own overwhelming joy at submission to the most beautiful creature in the world, Elvara came.The Thriae, or “meadbrewers”—wasp-waisted fey that produce one of the most universally dangerous fey substances known to mortalkind—are a very militant variety of fey, and much cleverer than their “blonde bimbo” personas might suggest. Even the Mage Towers would do well to avoid arousing the Hives’ ire.But it is rare that wizards can resist trying to capture and experiment on fey. It is equally rare that it doesn’t somehow backfire delightfully. -- source link