Morena and the Matriarch Ch. 04

Cooperation Beats Coercion, Ten to One

"I would offer you five thousand each for those six men," Morena was telling Alyssa. She and Stella were sitting in the coach, preparing to leave. "Hell, I'd offer you ten thousand, each" she added. "But I doubt you'd take it. You've got a good thing here and you know it. Every one of them tested above Class-AA. That would be the definition of the Mother Lode."

"In fact, I'll do better than the standard rate. Class-AAA, rare but not unheard of, goes for three to five hundred per 70cc. I'll give you seven hundred fifty per 100cc, which is slightly better than the normal top end, if you will contract exclusively with me. And if you agree, I will not be releasing your name to anyone else. I would expect the same from you. I want you as my sole subcontractor, and I want the credit to accrue to my operation. What do you say?"

"I'd say it sounds fair," Alyssa told her, "with one sticking point. I'm going to milk these guys for enough product so you can make your contract with the Matriarch in a week. I think that kind of express service deserves a bonus. Like maybe, you covering the start up costs of my operation. With me on an exclusive contract to you, of course."

Morena thought about it for a moment, then put out her hand. "Deal," she told Alyssa. "I'll have the lawyers send the paperwork along. But for now, we'll work on a handshake. I am a woman of her word. I presume you are, too."

Alyssa took Morena's hand and they shook on the deal. Then Morena turned to Stella.

"Cut a voucher for Alyssa, personally, for twenty thousand. She can use it and whatever bank she wants to get the equipment. And send her the list of our preferred vendors, along with a letter under seal indicating we'd appreciate them showing her the same courtesy as they give us."

"Yes, ma'am," Stella replied, pulling out a cheque-and-ledger book and writing out a draft for Alyssa.

"This should be honored by any bank doing business with the Matriarch's Reserve," she told Alyssa. "Let us know if you have any problems. In the meantime, I have left you enough cryostasis transport containers for the initial shipment due in a week. Good luck."

"Thank you," Alyssa nodded, "both. It has been a pleasure doing business..."

"Oh, Goddess, yes..." Morena sighed. "It was definitely a pleasure getting the business, as it were. Stay safe. Home, driver!"

Alyssa watched as the coach pulled away and felt Dosay coming up behind her.

Without turning, she said "so, let's go get the men sorted."

* * * * * * * * * *

"So, here's the deal," she told the men. They were sitting around her, down in the dungeon, with Dosay over by the door.

"How many of you want to run away?" No hands went up.

"Without any threats, or poison, or wolves... how many of you want to leave?"

No hands went up, but Sawgrass said, "Mistress, I would like to see my people again."

"So would I," Heath added and the others nodded in agreement.

"That's not the same thing," Alyssa said. "Let me ask it another way. If you were able to take occasional breaks - like vacations, I guess - to go see your families, and you otherwise had the freedom of the house - no cages, tethers or anything else - how many of you would volunteer to be milked on a regular basis by me or Dosay, in exchange for food, clothing, shelter and some level of entertainment?"

Six hands tentatively went up.

"And only me and Dosay? We get all your cum except when you're on vacation."

Six hands stayed up.

"And you'd have to pretend you were our menservants. You'd be in a second class citizen position, just like every other male this side of the Wilds. Outside the house, you'd have to be subservient."

Six hands stayed up.

"Okay!" Alyssa smiled. "You can put your hands down. I've just cut a sweet deal with Mistress Morena that lets me be my own Rancher, and you six are my starting stock. I'll be under contract to her. The big difference for you is that I'm not going to run this like a prison or a stable. I'm going to take your word that we can cooperate and I'll get what I need while you get what you need. You're going to be, essentially, my employees. Does that work for you?"

As one, they answered "Yes, Mistress."

"Okay, the next two orders of business. I can't speak for Mistress Dosay, but for me, my name is Alyssa and it's okay for you to call me that, except when we're in public where it will be Mistress Alyssa or just Mistress. And secondly, there are an entire two upper floors of this house that have not been used since our family all died off. I've had it decontaminated, but it needs to be turned into living quarters for you guys. You won't be living down here unless you want to. Okay?"

Again, there were scattered nods and "yes, Mistress" mumblings.

"Then gentlemen? Your next task is to create suitable rooms for yourselves under the direct supervision of Mistress Dosay, while I go shopping. We're a bit short on victuals and other needs."

Dosay stepped forward. "It's Mistress Dosay or Mistress in public, Dosay upstairs and Mistress or My Lady down here," she told them. "And if you don't follow my instructions, I'll have my sister beat you up. Clear?"

Six men echoed "yes, Mistress!"

"Okay, then. Let's go." And she turned to lead them upstairs to survey the current state of the house.

* * * * * * * * * *

This is going to be strange, Alyssa thought as she picked her way through the market, selecting foodstuffs and hygienic products for her new harem. With the proper care and feeding, though, this could work. I can get what I need without having to be an asshole.

It was an odd fact that after the Last Great War - World War V for those who were still counting - the social structure to emerge from the near-total annihilation of the world was a matriarchy. A by-product of the radiation, the industrial pollution and the poisoned food supply was that fewer women were fertile than not, and almost none of the men were fertile. Those men who had remained fertile, and who did not produce mutants or stillborns, were mostly the ones whose families had been the farthest from the urban areas and at the highest elevations.

In the two centuries after the remaining humans had emerged from the caves and shelters, an unlikely mix of urban and rural society had become blended and become a way of life.

Or at least, on this continent, Alyssa thought. We don't know much about anyone else.

The records of the earlier technological age had survived. The information about things like mass communication and power grids and diesel trucks and sophisticated farming equipment, and even firearms and other weaponry, still existed. The actual ability to produce the things that the documents described did not. So society had fallen back on "low tech", with the occasional experiments going on about wind and solar power, and mass production capabilities for food and medicines and the like.

There were still Farmers and Millers and Grocers and the like, and various kinds of craftspeople working in wood and metal and any other material that could be scavenged from the Deep Wastes. And Procurers, like her, who acquired the stuff of life that would let the human race continue - non-irradiated, non-polluted, genetically pure sperm to match with as many fertile women as could be found, in the hopes of rebuilding a viable population.

And the Fertility Festival was a major celebration, where people came from near and far in the hopes of getting a female in the family impregnated with genetically pure sperm. Buying pure sperm and getting an aseptic insemination was prohibitively expensive to most people. In order to encourage breeding, the Matriarch held an annual lottery for 1000 lucky recipients of two 2.5cc doses of high grade semen. That was 5,000cc of high grade cum that was needed.

A high-end stud could be milked two to three times in twenty-four hours for a short period of time, without serious degradation of quality and quantity, meaning about 15cc per day, of which only a third or so would get past the genetic screening. So that was about a thousand stud-days to make up the Matriarch's order. Morena was 700cc behind on her order, or approximately 140 stud-days.

Alyssa figured she had six studs and six days. Thirty-six stud days wasn't much and woefully inadequate at 5cc per stud per day. But she also figured these men were high quality yield, and if she got an average of 20cc of usable quality product per stud per day, she could make it. That also meant it might be necessary to milk them four times a day instead of three, depending on how productive her stable was. Making the guys cum several times in rapid succession wasn't necessarily productive, since the sperm count would often fall off.

She was running the numbers and musing on solutions when a pleasant baritone voice said quietly, "I see you're going into business..."

It was Steven the Smith. Big. Strong. Quiet. Respected. Ebony skin and a bald head just added to the impression of power that rolled off him.

"Hello, Steven," Alyssa smiled slightly. "What do you mean?"

"You're setting up as a Rancher and bein' quiet about it... kinda on the side," he told her, still keeping it quiet.

"Now why would you think that?" she asked him with all the charm and innocence she could muster.

"Because you brought in six men and none of them left with Mistress Morena an' Mistress Stella," he told her. "You're buying enough vittles fer an army and Dosay's not with you. I keep my eyes open and my mouth shut. And lyin' doesn't become you, Missy."

She'd known Steven since he came to town when she was seven. She'd played in his stables and he'd forged her first weapons. He wasn't someone she wanted to lie to...

"Steven, I have to keep this on the QT," she told him. "It's really complicated and I don't want it spread around. And how do you know about Mistress Morena?"

"Like I said, I keep my eyes open and my mouth shut," he reminded her. "An' I'm not about to be goin' an' sayin' anythin' about it." He looked at her for a long moment before he added, "just thought maybe you could use some help..."

Alyssa was surprised. No, more than surprised... shocked. He couldn't possibly mean the kind of help she thought he meant. He was just too much of a nice guy...

"Um, Steven?" she asked slowly. "Just so I don't step in it big time... what kind of help are you offering?"

"To be a donor," he told her.

Holy shit! Alyssa's brain exploded. He knows what he's offering! If he's fertile, how could a strong, healthy... hell, sexy!... man possibly have been missed? By so many Procurers?

"Steven, do you have any idea what you're saying?" She just had to ask.

"Yes, Missy, I do, and I think it would be a good idea if I helped you carry all your stuff back to your house and you invite me in for tea. We could talk." The big man began slinging baskets and bags of Alyssa's purchases onto his shoulders.

"I think that's a great idea," Alyssa told him, grabbing a couple of bags and heading for the house.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alyssa had intercepted Dosay and told her to keep the other men upstairs, working on their quarters, while she talked to Steven in the parlor. Then she'd made a large pitcher of iced tea... one of the advantages of having gotten a cobbled together refrigeration unit from one of the Cities and living in Vern's Dale, which prided itself on having a real, honest-to-goodness power generating hydroelectric dam across the Vern River, left over from before the Devastation. It had taken a long time to clean it up and repair it, working only from books and oral traditions, but the village had pulled together and the dam had eventually made electricity... enough to run the Dale and a little beyond. And that little bit of luxury meant she could make her own ice.

Now Alyssa sat across from Steven, sharing iced tea and trying to figure out what was going on.

"Missy, I figure you can keep a secret," Steven told her. "I've seen you keep plenty of others. So I'm gonna tell you a few things that I don't want going past these walls. Dosay can know, of course."

He took a long pull on his tea while looking at her, trying to read her expression, before going on.

"I may look like Callunar," he told her, "but I'm not. My people are Mountain people, from west and north of here. But I let folk believe I'm Callunar because it was easier to spread the myth that I got kicked out for being infertile. If you don't want to be messed with, it's better if people don't think you're worth going after."

"Yeah, I can see that," Alyssa agreed. "But if you're fertile, why aren't you getting laid? I mean, the only people I ever see you around are your customers."

"That's right," Steven acknowledged. "The only ones you see."

Alyssa slowly nodded as she realized what he wasn't saying.

"And you're really good at not being seen when you don't want to be." The statement implied the question.

"That's right," he told her. "For example, I know you're a Procurer. Stands to reason you'd come back from a hunting trip with some high quality stock. Turn a nice profit sellin' 'em to a Rancher. So why wouldn't they leave with Morena? Top Rancher on the continent, or so I hear. And she's not looking pissed when she's leaving. Real happy and all up in your face like you were old friends."

"So my curiosity burns and I do some snoopin'. And I see the men walking upstairs with Dosay, no chains, no restraints... free to run if they wanted. Except they don't seem to wanna... now, why would that be?"

He paused and took another long pull on his iced tea, regarding Alyssa with cool assessment.

He's trying to figure me out, Alyssa thought. But I need to know more about what he wants...

"Okay, so you snoop and get more information than is healthy for you. Good for you. And now you're volunteering for whatever I'm doing - and whatever it is, it isn't the usual - and you don't even know exactly what's happening. Why?"

"Why are you volunteering? What do you want, or think you want? Do you even have a clue what this is all about?"

"I have an idea," Steven told her, answering the last one first. "I'm volunteering because I don't want to be enslaved and what I want out of it is purely selfish... you. And your sister."

Whoa! Me??? And Dosay??? What the hell does he think is going on?

"Steven, what exactly do you think is going on? And what do you mean, me and Dosay? We don't take kindly to slavery, either."

Steven smiled and his white teeth gleamed against his ebony face.

"What I think is going on is that you're moving from Procurer to Rancher and working for Morena. And I think you must have some exceptional stock, because you're treating them with respect. And I think that whatever you've done to get their loyalty, I want some of it. I'm guessing it's your feminine wiles and that you and your sister are a fantastic pair of lovers. And if I just put my foot in it, I'll apologize now and never darken your doorstep again."

Alyssa was quiet for a long time, thinking and looking at Steven. Finally she seemed to decide something.

"Steven, why'd you leave your people and come here?" she asked.

"Because I got a job offer," he told her.

"Smith? You came here just so you could be a Smith?" She was confused.

"No, that's just my cover, although I'm a damned good smith," he told her. "You people don't know it, but nearby is a tribe that's going through a rebuilding. And they needed to get their women pregnant and they didn't care by who as long as he was healthy. They couldn't afford the Matriarch's prices. I happen to have a blood-kin relationship to them, so I offered to provide stud service. Been doin' it for awhile, now."

"Then the Shaman who 'hired' me died, and I don't like the bitch that replaced her. So I told 'em my term of service was way expired and to go find someone else, or start using some of their own teenage boys. My sons, in fact. And I stopped going out there. But I do miss getting laid. And doing it around here is difficult... small town where everybody knows what everybody else is doin'."

"You'll need to be tested," Alyssa told him. "For what I'm doing, you have to be Class-A or better, with the emphasis on better."

"Show me where," he told her. "I got no problem donating a sample."

"Okay, in a minute. First, what about your price? You want me and Dosay. I can't speak for her. For me, I want to know more about what that means. I think there's some things you should know, though. One, what I'm paying the others is food, clothing, shelter, relative freedom within this house and something towards entertainment. Two, they're gonna get milked a minimum of twice a day and more likely four, if I'm going to pull off the miracle I've set myself."

"So far, there's no jealousy among them, and a natural leader has emerged. His name is Gann. So three, he's gonna have to get along with you or it's no deal. This can work because of the respect you pointed out. You'd still have to run your smithy or risk blowing your cover. If you need to be dating me or Dosay to make it work, we can figure something out. You okay with this so far?"

"I am perfectly fine with this, Mistress Alyssa."

The use of the formal caught her off-guard.

"It's only Mistress when we're downstairs," she told him. "Up here or out in public, you're still my long-time friend who usually calls me Missy. I don't want that to change. I am certainly not advertising my attempt to change my status to one that requires an honorific. Clear?"

"Sure, Missy," he smiled. "Where do I jerk off?"

"You don't," she told him. "I jerk you off. Or suck you or fuck you or whatever I want. Or, if I want you to jerk off so I can watch, you'll do that, too. But your cum ends up in a specimen jar unless you are specifically directed otherwise by me or my sister."

"I am yours to command," Steven smiled.

"You know, I'm starting to like you in ways I hadn't thought about," she told him. "Just a minute."

She went to the bottom of the stairs and called up to Dosay. When she appeared at the top, Alyssa asked her, "are they busy enough that we can trust them to keep working while you help me collect a sample?"

"Gann!" Dosay called over her shoulder and he showed up next to her almost immediately. She turned to face him as she asked, "can you supervise? I need to go help collect a sample. I want everyone here when I get back. I don't want to have to send Alyssa after you."

Gann eyed Steven over Dosay's shoulder.

"It shall be as you wish, Mistress," he told her. He noticed the big, black fellow was gazing back at him. Though curious, he kept his mouth shut.

"Good," Dosay told him, then leaned up and gave him a peck on the cheek, surprising him. She turned and headed downstairs, leaving him behind to wonder.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Strip," Alyssa told Steven. They were down in the dungeon, now sprouting a bunch of new equipment, mostly cold storage units.

Steven pulled off his tank top and Alyssa shuddered involuntarily. The man was a sculpture of muscle, kept in shape at the forge. Then he kicked off his brogans and dropped his breeches.

"Whoof!!" Dosay exclaimed, and Alyssa agreed. He was a foot long flaccid. He was going to be a challenge. Steven just stood there, smiling.

"You shave," Alyssa observed.

"Yep," he confirmed, somewhat unnecessarily. "Cleaner and more comfortable."

"Okay, we're going to run a series of tests," she told him. "First one is simple. We're going to get you off and check the sperm count, volume, motility, radiation and mutation levels. Then we're going to get you off again as soon as we can while the genetic profile is running. We'll check count, volume, etcetera, on that one. Then we'll do it a third time, if you can. Then we wait four hours and do it again, once. Then we wait eight hours and do it again, once. Last test is twenty-four hours after the last one."