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Chapter 50: Elders
Allen drifted awake slowly, his entire body heavy with exhaustion. Muscles sore, hips aching, skin still tacky from sweat and sex. His mind was foggy, like he’d been pulled from the deepest, filthiest dream.
But something was off.
His arms wouldn’t move.
His legs—bound.
His back—pressed upright to something solid.
He blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the dim morning light spilling through reed curtains. It smelled like fur and musk in here. Sex clung to the air like smoke.
Then it hit him.
He was tied up.
Strapped to a wooden pole, thick ropes around his wrists, ankles bound just loose enough to keep him from panicking. He wasn’t in danger. But he was trapped. Fully naked. Still faintly sticky from the absolute destruction he delivered.
Across the hut, Nyra paced barefoot, wearing nothing but a loose fur wrap that barely clung to her curves. Her fox tail swished behind her, sharp and erratic, flicking with every step. She chewed her thumbnail nervously, muttering to herself, her ears twitching like she was hearing things that weren’t there.
"...Just for a second," she said, voice tight. "It stopped working. That—that shouldn’t happen. That’s not normal. Not with that herb."
She turned and kept pacing, more frantic now. "Passed down from the elders... it’s sacred. Potent. Perfect. It works. It always works..."
Allen didn’t say a word.
Didn’t move.
He kept his face blank. Calm. Just enough dazed confusion in his eyes. Not too much. Not too little. Just enough to sell it. Playing brainwashed was all about restraint.
Nyra turned and looked at him. Hard.
Her lips parted.
Her eyes slowly drifted down... and locked onto him.
She froze.
A tremble passed through her frame.
Her thighs shifted. She pressed one hand gently to her lower stomach, face flushing with memory.
"Ffffuck..." she whispered, wincing slightly as she touched her belly. "That orc cock... you fucked me like I owed you rent in three dimensions..."
She turned and stumbled toward the doorway, limping, her legs clearly not cooperating. Allen tracked her movement with just his eyes. Watching.
She grabbed the edge of the doorway for balance, wobbled, then steadied herself with a hiss through her teeth.
"That cock’s illegal," she muttered to herself. "It has to be."
She didn’t look back. Didn’t question his silence. She just hobbled outside, tail flicking once behind her, posture crooked with soreness.
Allen didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
But deep inside?
He was smiling.
She had no idea what was coming next.
——
The morning air was cool, but Nyra’s body still burned—from soreness, from humiliation, and from the damn human still tied up in her hut.
Her tail twitched with every step as she limped through the village paths, the ache in her hips a constant reminder of what that cock had done to her. Her thighs stuck together from dried juices she hadn’t even cleaned. And yet... her pulse still quickened when she thought about him.
That filthy human wrecked me... and I let him.
She pushed open the curtain to the council chamber—a den carved into the base of the Elder Tree, lit by hanging lanterns and the low crackle of a central hearth. Thick carpets covered the ground, and tribal masks lined the walls.
Including Nyra all six of the elders sat in a circle, their tails curled neatly behind them, aged fur laced with gray, eyes sharp and unreadable.
There was Elder Yoru, the oldest male, blind in one eye and twice as ruthless to make up for it. Jasa, silver-furred and elegant, her claws always tapping something—nerves or schemes. Varn, wide-shouldered and gruff, tail always twitching like he was ready to leap. Lira, a former priestess with a voice like honey and a heart like stone. Dael, thin and silent, the watcher who rarely spoke unless to end a debate. And then Nyra—youngest of them all, eyes sharp, tongue sharper.
Elder Yoru raised a brow as she entered. "You’re late, Nyra."
"I had to... secure the human," she said smoothly, stepping into the circle and bowing just low enough to hide her limp. "He’s... contained."
"Contained?" asked Jasa, eyes glinting. "We heard... noise. From your hut. Screaming. Crying. Very energetic crying."
Nyra’s ears twitched, but she didn’t flinch. "He’s spirited. Not all humans break easily. But he’s shackled now." 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝒑𝙪𝒃.𝒄𝒐𝙢
Varn snorted. "Don’t break him too much. Humans don’t like damaged goods."
"We’re not selling him," Dael said suddenly, voice flat.
The room stilled.
Jasa tilted her head. "No?"
"If the nobles find out a beastkin tribe is keeping a human as a slave, it won’t just be our deals that collapse," Lira added. "They’ll raze this entire forest to ashes. They’ll make an example out of us."
Nyra nodded slowly. "I understand."
"Then let’s move on," Yoru said, motioning to a young aide, who unrolled a scroll between them.
"The noble house of Rhelgar are sending their envoys next week. They’ve requested this month’s tribute be prepared in advance."
Jasa tapped the list with a claw. "Twelve slaves. All adults. Six females and two males from our own foxkin. Two from the dog tribe. One rabbit. One mouse."
Nyra kept her face calm.
Those weren’t prisoners. They weren’t criminals.
They were refugees.
Beastkin from other tribes—fleeing war, famine, human raids. And this council, her own people, were capturing them. Selling them. Wrapping them in collars and calling it tribute.
Yoru looked up. "What about the other two that were with the? The wild ones. The catgirl and the bunny?"
Nyra hesitated just long enough to make it real. "Fina and Rinni," she said. "They’re tough nuts to crack. Rebellious. Mouthy. But they’ll be ready by next month."
Varn chuckled. "Mouthy ones make the best toys once they break."
Nyra didn’t laugh.
She just nodded again, voice cold. "They’ll break."
The meeting continued—talk of routes, branding, disguises, payment.
But Nyra’s mind was far away.
On the human in her hut.
On the way her hips still ached.
And on the line she hadn’t realized she’d crossed.
