A Rather Fecund Estate

Aliadra Mecria was not an average young lady of Vilt's high court, born and raised in good pedigree. She was the only daughter of house Mecria, and the subject of utmost desire for more than half of Vilt's lordlings. Mecria women always were.

"I know Delia said he was willing to take us in, but I do hope this goodmaster Ponce will offer us his protection," Aliadra spoke across the carriage to Gwenlin, her mother. Aliadra was fidgeting, twisting and scrunching the blue hem of her dress's sleeves in her fingers. They had already discussed how to present their plea to the goodmaster far past the point of productivity.

"Whether the goodmaster accepts our request for asylum or not is in the Great Father Fortune's hands. We've prayed already, and that is all we can do until we arrive at his estate." Gwenlin's words were said in a hard tone, though she padded them by leaning across the carriage to take her daughter's hands in her own and give them a reassuring squeeze. If it stopped Aliadra's nervous kneading without the younger Mecria noticing, all the better.

The two were of a pair, one could easily have mistaken the Madam Mecria as her daughter's sister. Both were svelte but still impressively endowed, full in bust with wide hips that strained against their form fitting if rather worn silks. Thick cascades of glistening chocolate curls framed their round faces and draped above their eyes. Gwenlin's hair tinseled with lines of gray, the only aspect of her that noted her older age.

Cat angled forest green eyes, plump red lips, and upturned button small noses drew envy from ladies and desire from lords of higher blood than theirs. It spoke of their foreign, mixed heritage. A blessing and a curse, as men, who should have known better, dreamed about having even just one taste of Mecria blemishless cream white skin.

"I know fire is dangerous while the carriage is moving," A jolt through the cabin when a wheel hit a particularly nasty cobblestone on the street emphasized the point, "but maybe we should burn one more offering for Fortune's favor." Aliadra was babbling. She couldn't stand the quiet of the ride though she barely knew it.

Gwenlin sighed and left her daughter to continue on without responding. They would arrive soon enough at the goodmaster Ponce's estate.

The Mecria had fallen on hard times, tragic times really. They were never a particularly influential family in Vilt's high court, though their family was as old as the founding. Commitment to true love had left the Mecria lineage far too mixed in ancestry to be considered pure and marriageable to those of the high blood, but that did not stop the empress's consort from lusting after Aliadra. The empress, ruby rose of Viltresh, had not taken kindly to that.

The Mecria women were lucky they had been allowed to withdraw from polite society with their lives. Luckier still that Aliadra's wayward friend, Delia, had met the foreign trader goodmaster Ponce who, if his word was to be believed, was willing to offer them his protection.

The coachman called out that they had arrived and the carriage drew to a halt. Aliadra stepped down onto the road taking the coachman's hand for balance. She thanked him with a heart stopping smile which he returned with a russety blush on his weathered cheeks. As Aliadra turned to enter the arching gates of the manor, Gwenlin gave the coachman a large silver for his service.

The goodmaster's estate was much larger than the young Mecria had expected. It must have been property of some disgraced noble line. Sold off when they had fallen from favor of the imperial family, not so unlike the Mecrias themselves. Rows upon rows of topiary animals lined gardens that bordered the granite tiled path leading up to the triple tiered mansion. Prowling lions, bucking stallions, and charging bulls were all wrought in wide leafed shrubbery. They were immaculately maintained, the goodmaster must have had a squadron of gardeners to care for just the entrance.

The Mecrias weren't alone in their approach. Steel clad sentinels patrolled the grounds at even intervals, a rather intimidating sight. The hulking guards, faceless under heavy plate mail, carried glinting steel polearms with wicked points.

Aliadra shivered and took the hand of her mother as they passed by one particularly massive guard. He stood a good ten feet tall and was large, rotund with a pot belly. He was a Neph.

Clearly the goodmaster Ponce was much more well off than Delia had let on. The Neph only offered their services for the most exorbitant prices. Few families had the wealth to hire the giants and Aliadra had not seen any willing to do guardwork save for at the empress's own palace. Violent and as drawn to battle as they were, they often refused safe work.

"No need for worry," a woman's voice said, pulling Aliadra's eyes away from the hulking Neph, "those welcomed by the goodmaster have nothing to fear from that which is his. You two must be the Mecria ladies Miss Delia recommended to us."

Aliadra and Gwenlin both turned to see a maid standing at the open doorway into the mansion. She was a strikingly beautiful woman with long lashes, bright blue eyes, and gold hair tucked under a ruffled white band. The corner of her mouth quirked into a smile that suggested she knew more than they did and found it funny.

She was also very pregnant, perhaps even days away from giving birth. The apron she wore was strained, cinched just under her breasts above her belly, an adjustment she had likely had to do to accommodate her pregnancy. Under the apron was a dark dress trimmed with lace. It hung to her knees, though the dress looked like it would have been ankle length if the maid had not been pregnant. The square neckline plunged low on both the dress and apron, a window that revealed the maid's bust, not quite as full as Aliadra's but still much more than a handful. Her breasts were stretched by engorgement caused by her new milk production allowing her blue veins to be seen through her pale skin.

"like what you see?" the maid laughed, her voice surprisingly deep but with a playful note.

"I'm sorry," Aliadra stuttered as she felt her face flush. She hadn't realized how long and where she had been staring. It was strange. She didn't quite understand why, but it was a challenge to keep her eyes from flicking back down to the maid's deep cleavage.

There was something odd about how the maid smelled. It was muzzing Aliadra's head and made her stomach warm. The smell wasn't a perfume, it was far too masculine for that. A faint earthiness, perhaps burnt spicewood, like she had been marked by the man who had impregnated her. Aliadra's blush deepened at that thought.

"Don't be," the maid shook her head dismissing the apology and pulling Aliadra's attention back to the present, "I personally take it as a compliment. You two are quite beautiful yourselves, I'm sure the goodmaster will be quite pleased to look upon you."

Aliadra squirmed under the maid's attention, what had been an absent-minded stare on her part was returned tenfold over. The musky smell grew stronger in her nose and the heat in her stomach rose. The maid almost felt as if she were trying to undress Aliadra and her mother with her eyes, and perhaps even go on further from there. It was simply... lecherous.

"Enough of that," Gwenlin snapped at the maid, she had one hand over her chest trying to cover the little cleavage her high necked silks revealed. Her cheeks had reddened. She also seemed to be affected by the odd air about the maid, "you are here to take us to see the goodmaster Ponce are you not?"

"Of course," the maid said, bobbing her head. Her demeanor changed so drastically Aliadra was almost convinced that the uncomfortable atmosphere the maid had just exuded was only in her imagination. Only the warmth in her lower stomach told her otherwise.

They followed the maid into the mansion. She seemed to be struggling as she walked. It was more so a teetering waddle really, her gait unbalanced by her heavy belly. The maid was puffing hard from effort by the time that she led them across the wide ballroom at the entrance of the mansion, up the semi circular staircase that led to an overhanging balcony overlooking the ballroom, and into a hallway that swung out into the west wing of the estate.

"Would you give me one moment," Aliadra said and sat down on a satin chaise longue that was angled in an alcove to look out a window, "I'm afraid my slippers are loose and I don't want to trip if we have to climb any more stairs." Aliadra fidgeted with the straps of her silk slippers, pretending that they had been loose and needed readjustment. She dropped the straps as her side cramped before picking them up again, "I'm rather clumsy, so this may take a bit, please sit,"

"I..." the maid huffed as she leaned into the chaise longue beside Aliadra. She let out a long heavy breath. Her breath, Aliadra realized as the maid panted beside her, was where that odd intoxicating smell was coming from, "appreciate... the... rest... but... I... could... help... if... the... lady... requires... it?"

"don't worry yourself over Ali," Gwenlin cut in, "she is just looking for a polite way to let you have a moment's rest." Gwenlin strode over to a second chaise longue on the other end of the alcove and stretched herself out in it. Glancing out the window to take in the view, her cheeks reddened and she quickly looked away.

The window looked out onto the gardens where there was an elaborate set of fountains. They depicted a carnal display of a pride of lions. The lionesses circling, looking up at the dais in the center where their king mounted one of his gravid matriarchs.

Gwenlin, scoffed to try and mask her embarrassed gasp, and fanned her face. The goodmaster Ponce's taste in art was far more risqué than what the Mecria, or really any of the Vilt nobility, would have found decent. Gwenlin was a woman raised in good etiquette though, and far too proud to admit their host's tastes embarrassed her.

"Mother..." Aliadra grumbled, annoyed at Gwenlin's bluntness in revealing she had taken the pause specifically for the maid. Still, she dropped the pretense and leaned back into her seat.

"I... appreciate it." The maid smiled warmly to Aliadra as her breathing began to even. She stroked her bulging tummy, legs stretched out to the sides making room as she relaxed.

Aliadra bit her lip, something about the maternal aura exuded by the maid just kept pulling her eyes to the delicate fingers skimming over her apron. The heady scent of the maid grew stronger as she sat so close.

"We wouldn't have had to deal with such a wait if the goodmaster Ponce hadn't sent a guide as pregnant as you are. Surely, he has others in his service that aren't so incapacitated." Gwenlin was drumming her fingers on her arms trying to strike an aloof pose in her seat.

"You might be surprised how unrealistic your suggestion is Madam Mecria," the maid chuckled, ignoring the sour tone in Gwenlin's voice. It was as if she had known Aliadra's mother for years. She seemed to understand immediately that Gwenlin's short temper and curtness grew from her anxiety, "We in the service of goodmaster Ponce are rather... fecund."

That made Gwenlin blush and turn her head, though Aliadra couldn't understand why. She didn't know what the word fecund meant, but she thought it must have been naughty. An awkward silence grew as Gwenlin continued to look away and avoid meeting the maid's eyes.

"How many days left until your little one arrives? You must be very close now." Aliadra asked the maid, hoping she could resolve the uncomfortable quiet.

"It won't be until the end of autumn for me." The maid replied, letting out a long sigh that seemed both unhappy and happy at the same time.

"But that's three months off!" Aliadra gasped, " you are already so..."

"Huge?" The maid finished Aliadra's sentence smiling, "I'm having twins. I could show you. Would you like to feel them?"

"Oh no, I couldn't," Aliadra scooted away from the maid feeling her face heat up. She had always been shy over thoughts of being a mother, usually trying to avoid thinking about it too hard when she could. This maid of the Ponce estate was making it very difficult to do so.

"Nonsense." The maid grabbed onto Aliadra's hand before she could get too far away and placed it high on her stomach, just below her breast, "feel that? That's one of the little cuties kicking." Aliadra did feel it. A slight fluttering through the apron. Then the maid shifted her hand across her belly low, uncomfortably close to her nethers, "Here is the head of the other one. Can you feel it?"

"I can..." Aliadra nibbled on her plump lower lip. She couldn't help but imagine what it would have been like if she herself was the one pregnant. What it would feel like if life were blooming within her own womb. The movements of the babies must feel different coming from inside her. At that thought, a shiver ran down her spine and she yanked her hand back.

"I don't think I could do it. I wouldn't be a good mother. I'm far too scatterbrained to care for myself, I couldn't possibly care for a baby."

"No woman ever feels fully prepared for their first child. When you are carrying one of your own, everything will fall into place. Women of the Ponce estate have a wide network of support," The maid had that odd quirked smile at the corner of her mouth again. As if she were making some sort of joke that Aliadra couldn't quite understand.

"Enough of this chatter." Gwelin had stood up and was tapping her foot impatiently, "you've caught your breath and I'm tired of you wasting so much of our time. What's your name? I was going to let your lack of manners lie due to your condition, but this is too much. Goodmaster Ponce will be hearing of this."

"Lillian, Madam Mecria," the maid, or rather Lillian, was meeting Gwenlin's glare with her knowing smile. She rose from her seat and gave a curtsy. It was shallow, but the disrespect could have been unintentional. It was difficult for her to bend over due to her pregnancy after all. The way Gwenlin's eyes narrow made Aliadra think her mother did not believe that was why it was so shallow.

When Gwenlin got in a mood like she had now there was nothing Aliadra could say that wouldn't simply worsen it. Especially since Aliadra had been contributing to what had upset her mother to begin with. There was no more talk as the maid Lillian led them through the mansion.

They drew deeper into the living quarters of the estate, away from the reception area where parties for guests were held. As they drew deeper they began to see more of goodmaster Ponce's staff.

It was an eclectic bunch. A slim, dark skinned woman cleaned sconces with a feather duster. A pair of buxom redheads carried full pails of milk down the hall. A tattooed and shaven headed clerk noted down something on a clipboard as they passed. A very short woman with smooth raven black hair and rings of gold circling her neck led a chain of toddlers linked together by their hands.

The Vilt empire, the kingdom Tarandin, the Isle of Nar, even the Blueveil mountain tribes, women from around the world were present in goodmaster Ponce's service. It spoke of the success and reach that his trading company had. Most dressed in a similar style to Lillian, black dresses, white aprons, with low cut tops. There were no menservants though, and as the maid had implied earlier, every one they passed was in some stage of pregnancy.

The musky masculine scent was growing stronger as they drew deeper into the living quarters. It was almost like they were stepping into the den of a wild beast. Aliadra thought the smell was coming off from the women that they passed, not from them, but off of them the way it came off of Lillian.

It should have been overpowering, perhaps even unsettling. Aliadra couldn't help but love the way it tasted on her tongue as she breathed in. She felt so hot and had a vague sense in the back of her mind that it was because of the smell, but she wasn't sure why.

Two Neph guardians stood at either side of a solid looking oak doorway. The woodwork had been done by a master. Intricate detailing of nymphs, fawns, and other faie frolicked across the grain. Many participated in sapphic acts with their compatriots and more than a few of the faie appeared to be with child. A faint thought flitted through Aliadra's mind that she should have been scandalized by the vulgarity of the work. Then again maybe not. Her mother, Gwenlin, hadn't said anything against it. She was an excellent judge of propriety so it must have been perfectly proper.

Lillian approached the doorway and guards saluted and moved aside. She reached to grab an iron knocker in the center, but before she touched it, a deep voice called out to them.

"You may enter." The voice had so much power behind it, Aliadra felt its deep resonance in her chest. Her heart fluttered. She felt her side cramp from how nervous she was. It only could have been one person, the goodmaster Ponce.

The maid opened the door and the air grew thick with the pungent smell permeating the estate. Aliadra took in a gulp of the delicious earthy spiciness. The flavor so heady seconds passed before Aliadra was able ground herself enough to comprehend what she was seeing inside the room.

A tall man, clean shaven, with a mane of flowing black hair stood before them. He was the idealized form of masculinity, not even the greatest sculptors in the world could have captured the kind of perfection goodmaster Ponce so effortlessly exuded in their marble. The goodmaster was younger than Aliadra had expected, perhaps only a few years older than her twenty two. Muscular to the point it was obvious even through the immaculately tailored burgundy suit he wore. Aliadra's eyes tracked down his body to his large strong hands. They were grasping the hips of a woman splayed across his study desk.

"Spark of the Mother! You are all the way in. It's so deep you are reaching my stomach! I've been a good girl for you, goodmaster Ponce. I'm taking all of your gigantic cock in my ass. Aren't I such a good girl?" Delia, it was Delia who was squealing and writhing at the goodmaster's waist. Sweet innocent Delia, who's face grew red when gossip turned to kissing. Delia, who had suggested goodmaster Ponce could offer them shelter from the empress.

"Yes you have been a good girl." Ponce's deep voice was like silk. One of his hands moved up from her hip to stroke Delia's belly. She had always been plump, and Aliadra had thought she had been gaining some weight recently. With her lying naked on the desk, it was clear that she hadn't just been gaining weight. She had been growing a baby in her womb, goodmaster Ponce's baby.

The goodmaster leaned down and kissed Delia's neck, then moved up to her ear and whispered, "I'm going to start moving now."

"I'm yours. Everything of me is yours."

Aliadra let out a soft moan as she watched the goodmaster slowly draw back. His huge cock revealed from within Delia. Inch by inch by inch by inch, it just kept going. Thicker than Aliadra's forearm and at least as long, perhaps even longer. She couldn't be sure, the goodmaster stroked back into Delia's bowels.

"Fuck!" Delia's back arched and she squirted onto the goodmaster's chest. Aliadra watched as her friend's puffy pussy winked at her opening and closing as she convulsed in an orgasm. Aliadra felt her own pussy throb in rhythm with Delia.

The goodmaster kept going, thrusting in and out, Delia screaming incomprehensible words as each thrust wracked her in ecstasy. Her small pregnancy bump and breasts rippled and shook as the goodmaster picked up the pace. velvet soft and entrancingly beautiful. She gushed like a fountain, it almost became a continuous stream as goodmaster Ponce took her. Claimed her. Her ass, her womb, her everything. All of Delia was owned by the goodmaster.