The Ira Clan

The moon shined full through the window. Rowen lay on the soft mat, surrounded by cloud-like cushions. Torches stood on each corner, burning oil and lifting a euphoric fragrance. A bronze jar and cup sat on a nearby table. According to the priestess, Rowen was not to drink from the jar, unless he really had to.

Rowen sighed nervously, as he twisted his legs. He was decorated with articles of gold dressed in small clothes that revealed much of his slender body. His loincloth didn't even do a decent job hiding his tool. For a man, he had very feminine features. His hips were curvaceous and his face clean and untouched.

He twitched nervously as he stared at the door. He was eighteen, the right age of mating. Rowen had never actually seen many women before, save for his teachers and the priestesses. Was he ready for the process? Would he actually do a good job getting the women pregnant? Rowen didn't know at all. What he did know was that he had to do his best and give it his all. As a male of the Ira, it was his duty to spread his seed.

The Ira was a race of warriors that composed mainly of females. Men were practically absent from their race. What was the reason for this? Were the Ira misandrists who looked down on men? That wasn't entirely the reason.

Centuries ago, the Ira was among the most vicious of warriors in the land. They plundered and killed all that got in their way. Villages, towns and even nations trembled at the very sound of their name. Those many years ago, men were still plentiful, performing most of the heavy jobs, while women took care of trade, agriculture and housework. Their people thrived in their raids and conquests. Believing only in their weapons, the Ira bowed to no one. As mighty as the Ira Clan was, they should have known that there were some toes not to step on.

One day, the Ira attacked a town celebrating a festival dedicated to Elopia, goddess of birth and fertility. Without any qualms, the Ira destroyed the town, desecrated the festival, destroyed the offerings and stole the goddess's treasures.

Angered by this, Elopia placed a curse upon the women of the Ira Clan. Out of ten women, only one would give birth to a male. To make the situation worse, Elopia declared that all of their future sons would never grow up to be like their fathers. Rather than being muscular and mighty, they would instead be slender and feminine. Talents of steel and blood were replaced with the lyre and song. The masculinity of the male Ira had forever been castrated.

Women now had to take most of the jobs. They became warriors, blacksmiths, carpenters and every other job that demanded heavy labor. Men were turned into a valuable resource. Being too valuable, they were separated from the rest of society and secluded in an area, where they were trained and groomed for copulation. Women were strictly forbidden from having any contact with men, until a certain mating period.

Rowen wasn't entirely sure if he was indeed ready. He had studied the female body and their most sensitive parts. He knew where to hit, but didn't exactly know what to do. Like the others, he had no practical training. Everything was simply theoretic. It wasn't any easier when his teacher explained that each woman had different interests.

Before long, Rowen heard a loud bell outside the room. It was about to begin. The young man's heart raced anxiously as he repeated words of encouragement to himself.

Soon, the door creaked open. The first woman entered. She was tall with broad shoulders. Her complexion gave evidence of hours of toil under the sun. While she did look similar to her teachers, she did carry differences. She had more muscle and a firmer physique. While she still carried a curvaceous figure, she looked pretty rigid. Her hair was raven, while her irises were like the sapphires on one of Rowen's earrings. She was dressed in a plain dress that looked more suited for drying the body.

The young man immediately stood up and presented himself. Remembering what his teachers had told him, he bowed down.

"Good evening," he greeted, with a smile. "I'm Rowen and I will be of your service."

Rowen smiled, thinking he had delivered it flawlessly. However, the woman scratched her chin and stared at Rowen for a while. Was something wrong?

"Could you turn around and repeat that?" the woman asked.

"Of course," Rowen said. Was this something that his teacher forgot to mention? It was a little odd. "Good evening. I'm -."

But before Rowen could finish, the woman tackled him from behind and brought him down on the bed. Looking back, Rowen found her clothes lying on the floor. Her hands suddenly frisked all over his body, as she began to nibble the tip of his ear.

"W-wait, m-mistress!" Rowen trembled.

"That's good," the woman said, as she warmly breathed on his neck. "Keep it up. I like this frightened and innocent act you're giving."

Frightened act? This was no act, it was genuine fear! Rowen's heart raced, as his teeth clattered! Just what was she doing? The teachers never mentioned this before. They taught him it was his job to please his mistress, yet she seemed to be doing all the work.

The woman's tongue slid down Rowen's neck, while her hand pinched and twisted different areas of his body. Her legs folded around his, while her chest pressed on his back. Rowen gasped heavily, as a burning sensation built in his chest. As he breathed, he deeply inhaled the perfume, making his skin twice as sensitive.

As the woman wrapped around him like a snake wrangling a mouse, Rowen felt the tool between his legs suddenly grow. He had always had this sensation, but was never able to do anything about it, or even see it happen. Since he was a child, he was forced to wear a chastity belt, forbidding him from touching himself in any way.

"My, you've got quite a weapon for such a small creature," the woman said.

Her hand slid down between his knees and took the two jewels between his legs. Rowen squealed, as his cheeks blushed brighter. His tongue flapped out, dripping saliva on the floor. This was against what he was taught. His teachers had told him to remain poised and dignified. However, it was just impossible with what was going on.

Rowen moaned and groaned as he felt his jewels pressed and squeezed by the woman's fingers. He felt something gather around his nether regions. He had felt his many times before, but the chastity belt denied him such a sensation. Quietly, he begged for it to finally happen. While he did not like the way it was progressing, he was finally going to let out years of frustration.

Taking a deep breath, he let out a deep groan. However, nothing came out. Looking down, he found the woman's hand firmly pressed between his tool and jewels. She had stopped him before he could explode.

"M-mistress?!" Rowen gasped with watery eyes. "Why?!"

"We are forbidden from wasting any drop of your seed," the woman replied. "Also, I myself haven't been pleasured enough."

Tossing him down, she faced him up front. She locked his wrists down with her hands and glared at him like a predator about to feast on its prey. Opening her mouth, she began to taste and suck on him, as if she were eating him.

"What are you doing?" the woman said with frustration. "Didn't they train you for this?"

"W-what must I do?" Rowen asked.

"Oh for goddess' sake," the woman snarled as she rolled her eyes. "Scream for help, cry for mercy, act like a miserable dog that's about to be cut! Heck, struggle and fight with everything you've got!"

"H-help, someone save me!" Rowen cried, as he tried to free himself from her grip.

"Wow, you're pretty good," the woman complimented. "After this, I could recommend you as a thespian and work in the theater."

It was no act, however. Rowen poured out his heart and genuinely cried out for help, in vain hope that someone would actually save him.

The woman moaned in ecstasy as she watched Rowen weep. She rubbed her chest against him and slid her flower down his chest. She pressed and rubbed harder on him. Rowen's heart began demanding desperately for more oxygen to pass down his throat. After a bit more, the woman came to a halt, as she held her head up and groaned loudly.

Finally, a lesson that Rowen recognized. She had been pleasured. Rowen laid his head back and panted heavily. His stomach squeezed inward, as his whole body twitched.

"A-are you satisfied, mistress?" Rowen asked politely with a strong sense of exhaustion.

"Not entirely," the woman said. "I feel like I could go on-."

Before the woman could finish, there was a knock behind the door.

"Madam, may I remind you that there is a time limit!" a voice said from behind. "Once your time is up, you will have to leave. No exceptions. It doesn't matter even if you're still mounted on him, we will drag you out."

The woman frowned. "Damn it," she cussed. She turned over to Rowen, who had a spark of hope in his eye. "I would have loved to last longer with you, but I need your seed now."

Pulling his loincloth, the woman spread Rowen's legs apart. He couldn't resist, or rather didn't have any strength to do so. She lay on top of him and engulfed his tool into her flower. Rowen gasped, as he felt her inner muscles squeeze his tool. He cried out, at her warmth and moistness. He looked down and saw something that made his heart stop.

"M-mistress, are you bleeding?!" he asked.

"Don't worry," the woman said. "It's natural."

Without any other explanation, she pressed down and thrust his tool deeper in her. The two moaned and growled, as their bodies slammed together, mixing their perspiration. The woman took his lips and fondled his tongue with hers. They moved faster and faster, building heat and painful jubilation in their bodies.

As the light of the moon rolled into the room, the woman gave one last heave. Rowen's tool finally exploded. His seed shot out and filled her stomach. The woman dropped on Rowen, panting weakly. She lay on him for a few seconds, with a vibrant smile on her face.

"Not bad," she said. "Care for another shot, just in case?"

Another knock was heard on the door.

"Madam, you're time is up!" the voice said. "Please leave, otherwise we will force you out!"

"I'm going!" the woman hollered, as she picked herself up. She looked down at Rowen, her eyes filled with a diamond's shine. She smiled and blew a kiss. "If I am lucky enough to get a boy, I shall name him after you."

Picking her clothes, the woman exited the room. Rowen weakly got on all fours. His arms and legs trembled, while every muscle ached. He looked down at his legs and found his tool covered with the nectar from the woman's flower. A bit of his seed dripped like honey. Rowen was uncertain if he enjoyed it or not.

While he did manage to release the frustration between his legs, his whole body felt ready to drop any second. He crawled over to the pillows to rest.

However, before he could even take a step, the door opened again. Another woman appeared, although there were differences in appearance, she shared the same hungry smile as the last woman. Rowen trembled at the thought of another performance.

"C-can I help you mistress?" Rowen trembled.

"I'm here to be serviced," the woman said grin extended all the way to her ears.

"P-pardon me asking, but how many more must I do?" Rowen asked, as he quietly prayed for a small number.

"There is a long line outside, extending to outside," the woman said. Rowen's eyes burst open with horror. "By the way, stay as you are. You're in a perfect mounting position."

The woman took out a large instrument that Rowen had never seen before. However, its shape was exactly like the tool between his legs. Was she planning to use that on him? There was no way that he could keep up!

Looking around, Rowen's eyes caught sight of the jar on the table. He needed to drink it immediately. Gathering whatever strength he could muster, he crawled desperately to the table. Just as he was about to grab the jar, he was pulled back.

The woman dragged him to the pillows and tightly squeezed his rear cheeks.

"You've got a wonderful posterior," the woman said, as she fit the instrument into her flower.

"M-mistress, wait!" the young man begged.

His cry came too late. She pressed her hips down. The instrument pierced him like the stinger of a wasp. Rowen held his head up and moaned, before crashing down. He did not have the strength to resist, but still had enough to remain conscious. Tears flowed down his eyes, as the woman continued to thrust into his body without any consideration.

The mating continued on through the long night, as women came into his room one after another. To his relief, there were a few who had allowed him to rest and drink from the jug. What exactly was in the jug that the priestess left for him? It was a concoction that revitalized his body, allowing him to continue, unfortunately.