Intrepid Pawns Ch. 10

As they exited the nectar, Yathi felt a moment of clarity.

She hated it.

"H-Hey!" she protested, squirming. But Trys held on. "No! I wanna go back!"

Trys was lost in her, lost in the embrace. Yathi struggled desperately, but it felt so good to let Trys kiss her, especially since Trys also had a lot of the nectar on her now...

Light flooded into her world, momentarily blinding her. She felt gloved hands gripping her, tugging her onto some sort of platform. She lay there, whining. She desperately wanted to be returned to the nectar, but she felt so horribly weak. She just lay still, shivered in the cold, and accepted Trys's kisses for a while.

Slowly, dimly, she became aware of the sounds around her. She heard a man she recognized—oh, it was Brist, who had been so sweet to fuck her earlier—talking in a fretting, worried tone. Trys, of course, was just moaning against her, though she seemed to be trying to speak. Hee! Yathi wouldn't have that, not while she could still kiss the words away.

She also heard licking, and screaming. Little purring sounds. How nice.

Thought trickled back into Yathi like dew dripping from leaves, as the toxins of the nectar started to break down under the harsh glare of the morning sun flickering through the trees. Trys started to squirm more, clearly starting to fight it off.

The third worst moment of Yathi's life was when she started to want to fight it off, too. It was a cold, clammy feeling, but she finally seized on it. She did not want this. All her life... but no.

Grimacing, she pulled away from the mead addict's sweet kisses. Yathi was just as far along as Trys in the addiction, and she knew that Trys was facing the same struggle she was. If Trys could resist the urges, so could Yathi.

Couldn't she?

They extricated themselves from the slick embrace as the nectar's effects finally faded a minute or two later. She blinked blearily up at the lot of them. Brist was wringing his hands together, eying her like one might eye a baby bird that had fallen into a vat of pitcher nectar and turned into a sex-crazed myna harpy. Trys looked exhausted and was already putting her own clothes back on. Luckily, the nectar wasn't like honey—where Thriae mead became sticky if not reapplied constantly, clinging unbearably to the body and eventually sinking into the victim to taint their mind, pitcher nectar rapidly evaporated when exposed to sunlight.

And behind her, a familiar heart-shaped face—the dusky bronze-skinned, copper-haired face of the pitcher dryad—was screwed up in exquisite agony as a freckled catgirl licked her out with gusto.

"That's enough, Mew," Trys said softly.

There was a pause. Mew kept licking.

"Mew?"

"Mm! Yes!" The catgirl rose up from between the dryad's legs. Her eyes met Yathi's, and her face split into a wide grin. The catgirl had beautiful, gleaming, honey-tinged green eyes. She sprang between Yathi and Trys and sat there, visibly buzzing with excitement, as if they were about to dissolve into a delicious threesome. Yathi bit her lip.

"How..." Yathi shuddered. "How long was I out?"

Trys tugged off her gloves, evidently knitted from leafy tendrils. "A long time. We're all lucky they put you here, and not in something more contained, like a limpet trap." She stooped to recover her sword bundle, swinging it over her shoulder. "They probably just needed a holding cell while they decided on what to do with you, if Mew's right."

"No cell more effective than a pitcher plant," Yathi muttered. "But... also easy 'nough to recover from. Yeah. Lucky."

She tried to avoid the temptation to lean over the side of the pitcher they were next to, to gaze down into that shimmering golden-green concoction. She knew if she looked over the edge, she would most assuredly jump down. Only a small part of her wanted that.

"Brist came up with the rescue technique," Trys said, climbing to her feet. She reached down and helped Yathi up as well. "And it had to be me, because..."

"Because you could heft a grown elk and Brist couldn't airlift a garden gnome." With a weak smile, Yathi punched Brist lightly in the arm. "I'm not wary of you, Trys. I'm... glad of the rescue."

"Great." Trys bit her lip. Mew bounced up alongside them, remaining between them with an unwavering eager expression. "So... Yathi. We're being hunted by catgirl druidesses."

"You mean like this catgirl druidess?" Yathi gestured to Mew. Mew cooed and fawned.

"Yes. She's... she's, um..."

"A meadchaser." Yathi peered into Mew's slightly glazed eyes. "You can tell by the eye color and the smell, Trys. She's like y... like us. Maybe a bit more eager, judging by the, ah, smell and behavior, but less heavily dosed than you, judging by the hair color."

"Sometimes they don't make physical changes." Trys swallowed. "That's a bit of a misnomer. After all, you have to be at least as addicted as I am, and your hair's still dark, isn't it?"

Yathi considered this, scowling. "Damn well better be, after the coin I paid to dye it." She reached up to run a hand through her hair.

Brist blinked. "Wait, you... are you a natural blonde?"

He and Trys exchanged looks. Scandalized, almost.

"Ugh." Yathi scowled between Trys and Brist. "Can you all try not to do this now? I am and I'm not. It's twisted. Complicated. Anyway, you're saying the physical changes are by choice. So she or I could be further along."

"They make changes when it suits them. Usually, it does. But sometimes they're already... enamored of how someone looks before, or... or they want them to be recognizable."

"What'd you look like before?" Yathi asked curiously.

"Um. Shorter hair. Can we get back on-topic?"

"Right. Sure." Yathi waved a hand dismissively. Her mind was racing as she bobbed her head from side to side, weighing the evidence she could think of. "So we're being hunted by catgirls. I'm guessing they're working with the Thriae, at least loosely. The Thriae don't control them—that's plain to see—but there's no fucking way they've not fucked each other at least a little. Fey are every bit as easy to honey up as mortals, give or take a sip, which means the catgirls've gotta be addicted—which means they probably have some sort of alternative supply. A substitute for Thriae mead close enough to stave off the cravings."

"That exists?"

"Don't get excited, Trys," she murmured, chewing her inner cheek. "The substitutes are way worse, in most all cases. A ginger dryad would be the least rough of all of them, and the aftereffects of loving a ginger dryad are unpleasant." She clapped her hands together. "Let me see... barring monsters (and if it's a monster, we're fucked, 'cause I'll never guess it) the best 'substitutes' for a mead addiction are ginger dryads, which are rare as all hell nowadays, honey tree hamadryads, which are mostly only found in the Northern Isles, maple dryads, which... oh! No, wait, I've got it. I got it now."

"What?"

"Somewhere in these woods, they got a honeysuckle patch." Yathi rubbed her hands together, growing increasingly excited—she hoped this was because of the opportunity, and not because of the intense cravings she was currently fighting off. "It's perfect. Catgirls love it. And if we can get to the patch—ooh, I'll bet we can negotiate. We can force them to back off!"

She started to scramble down the rope she'd noticed tied to a nearby tree branch, but Trys grabbed her arm. "Wait. Yathi. Slow down."

Yathi turned to Trys. "No." She grabbed the rope.

"Yathi—we don't even know where it is! And we need to find Ia!"

"I can find it. And Ia can handle herself." Yathi started to climb down.

She heard Trys yelling after her, but tuned the warrior out.

Trys wasn't in charge of this group. Okino was as good as dead. And this was the Evergreen. Yathi knew it. She had absolutely zero qualms with mutiny at this point, for everyone's good.

Her boots hit the ground.

"Yathi!" she heard Trys yell. Trys sounded almost panicked.

Yathi rolled her eyes. Get over it, Trys.

She looked up, waiting for the others to follow—

"Ooh. Well, hiiii, there," thrummed a familiar high-pitched voice. Yathi's breath choked itself down as none other than Kentri stepped into view, wings fluttering almost gently behind her. The hourglass-figured blonde flashed Yathi a smug smile. "And where might you be going, sweetie?"

~ ~ ~ ~

Every time you submit, you grow weaker.

Okino moaned and squirmed in helpless bliss as the Thriae down below eagerly sucked him off, her honey-blonde locks flowing around her and his cock like molten gold. All the while, she held his eyes in a heavy-lidded gaze. Her expression was clouded in lust and pleasure, and it poured into him like... like...

Like the pitcher of mead she had emptied down his throat earlier. He whimpered, lost in adoration. "P-Please... please..."

"Mm?" She batted her eyelashes up at him. Just this flirtatious gesture was enough to make him release, and he cried out in pleasure as she eagerly licked and sucked and swallowed.

Those eyes said it all. Nothing he begged for mattered. Only she mattered. He was hers, now. Hers alone.

"P-Please," he whined, biting his lip, "please, I c-can't... we have to..."

She giggled and pulled off, running her tongue over his cock and lavishing him with affection. "Have to what, sweetie?" she cooed.

At the sound of her lovely, melodic voice ringing in his ears, he went limp. All that escaped him was a tiny squeak.

The trouble was, he didn't really want to fight.

With every submission, he grew weaker. But it felt so good to be weak. Felt so good to submit, to obey. He was wasting his time trying to resist Kuolema—he could never resist such a perfect, beautiful creature. He was being so silly trying to resist Ytheri—no one could resist Ytheri, and no one ever wanted to. And it was so very, very foolish to try to resist... resist...

"W-What's your name?" he asked absently, as her tongue started to lick up and down his cock.

She paused, blinking.

"Minixi," she said, smiling. She licked him slowly, her tongue swirling around his tip.

He bit his lip. It was so, so easy to... submit...

Okino sank. Okino sank deep, deep beneath the heavy honey waves. He could do nothing but stare at Minixi in adoration. He gave in. He'd already lost this round—lost it the second she'd gotten him to taste her, if not the second she'd noticed he was there. He welcomed yet another surrender. With every submission, he grew weaker.

She kept slowing swirling her tongue, but every now and then, she stopped. Examined him. Resumed licking. He accepted her endless teasing with nothing but whimpers and wordless pleas. Minixi would do whatever she wanted to him, and he would love it, because he was hers. Sometimes, things were very simple.

Like him.

"We don't want to stay here."

Okino blinked. He stared into the Thriae's eyes, and realized Minixi had spoken. And she was serious.

"What?" he managed, hips bucking slightly.

She smiled. Minixi pulled off his cock, replacing her tongue with a single finger to gently stroke him. He quivered, held unbearably on the edge. "We don't want to stay here, silly boy," she cooed. "We need to escape before Ytheri brainwashes both of us!"

"Ah-ah?"

"You think I wanna stay here?" she giggled. "Ytheri's a human. I'd rather be, like, dead than let a human break me. Plus, I think she's, like, gonna try to use me to break you—like a lust sprite, all eager and needy! Hee! Um, no thanks." Her eyes gleamed as she stared into his. "We both know I can break you just fine by making you break. Isn't that right, honey?" She spiraled her finger around his tip.

"Y-Yes, Minixi," he gasped.

She brightened. "Great! So, your name's Okino." She tapped his cock slightly, giggling as a little precum dribbled out. "And this is your bimbo cock."

"W-What—"

"I'm gonna have to fuck your bimbo cock now and then," she continued happily, continuing to stroke it, "'cause it's a dumb, horny bimbo, isn't it? And dumb bimbos are, like, useless if they don't get fucked niiiice and often, aren't they?"

She kept running her finger over the glans until he stammered his agreement.

When he did—and it didn't take long—she beamed. "Good boy!" she cooed. "See? Bimbo boys can be nice and obedient if you keep their bimbo cocks in line. Your bimbo cock needs to only cum for me, so I'm gonna keep it nice and dumb and happy, like you. Doesn't that sound nice?"

She leaned in and planted a tiny kiss on the tip. He felt her delicately lapping up the precum, and she gave a satisfied sigh. Oh, gods, it felt so good...

"Yes, Minixi," he managed. "Oh, yes. S-Sounds... nice..."

"Yes indeed." She smiled wider. "Your bimbo cock is very dumb and silly, but we need to keep it even dumber and sillier than you so it can't control you too much. So we've been teaching it a very valuable lesson. Wanna guess what that is?"

Okino didn't need to guess. He stared into Minixi's eyes and knew exactly what she wanted him to say.

"T-That when I feel horny, I should... ask you for help."

"That's right!" She seemed genuinely delighted. "And I'll make sure to fuck your bimbo cock's brains out whenever you do ask, so my sweet bimbo boy stays a niiiice, sweet bimbo for me."

She rose to her feet, at last releasing his cock. He gave a little sigh of mixed relief and disappointment as the teasing ended without conclusion.

She held out a hand. Without thinking, he took hers, and she yanked him to her feet. And pulled him close.

"But first," she cooed, and her plush, cocksucking lips plumped up for a kiss, "let's just make sure that Stage Two addiction is niiiice and set in."

And as she seized him in one-last mind-melting kiss, she brushed her thigh up ever-so-slightly against his cock, and an orgasm consumed his mind once more.