Chapter 4: Feasting
The long table in the sunken glade was hewn from a single fallen oak, its surface scarred by decades of feasting. Tonight, it groaned under the weight of roasted haunches of meat, dripping with fat and glistening with honey glaze. Bowls overflowed with wild berries, and crude clay jugs seeped the sweet, yeasty scent of fermented nectar.
The girls descended upon it not with grace, but with a unified, voracious hunger.
CHOMP. CRUNCH. SLURP.
Eryndor watched, his elven sensibilities recoiling even as his body ached with a strange, trapped fatigue. They ate with their hands, tearing meat from bone with strong white teeth, juice running down their chins and between the deep valleys of their busts. Laughter bubbled up between gulps, words muffled by full mouths. Tails wagged furiously, thumping against benches and each other. It was a symphony of primal consumption.
Luna, however, was not at the table. She was on him.
She had settled onto his lap the moment he’d sat on a bench at the periphery, her enormous, supple ass immediately finding his groin and grinding down with a slow, insistent rhythm. She hadn’t stopped since. One hand idly played with a honey-drenched roll, taking tiny, disinterested bites. The other was wrapped around his neck, her fingers tracing the point of his ear.
Her previous frantic energy was gone, replaced by a deep, foggy adoration. Her blue eyes were glassy, fixed on his face, her pink tongue lolling out between her bee-stung lips. A thin strand of drolet connected her tongue to the roll in her hand.
“Daddy like the food?” she mumbled, leaning in to nuzzle his cheek, leaving a sticky smear of honey. Her heat was a furnace against him, her weight delicious and oppressive.
“I am not your—” he began, but his correction was cut short as she shifted, the thick curve of her ass pressing down just so against the strained fabric of his trousers. A sharp breath hissed through his teeth.
She giggled, a sound like gurgling water. “Daddy’s tummy talks funny.”
From across the table, a pair of curious eyes watched. A girl with russet-red ears and a matching, bushy tail paused mid-gnaw on a rib bone. She tilted her head, nostrils flaring.
“Luna,” she called, her voice bright and airy. “Why’s your face all… smooshy?”
Another, with jet-black fur and silver streaks, looked over. “Yeah. And you’re not eating. You always eat.”
Luna blinked slowly, as if coming back from a great distance. She nuzzled into Eryndor’s neck, inhaling deeply. “M’not hungry for food,” she purred, the vibration humming against his skin.
The red-eared girl, Daisy, dropped her bone with a CLATTER. She scampered around the table, her own considerable assets bouncing with each step. She crouched beside their bench, peering up at Luna’s blissful expression. “Did you find a new game? It looks fun.”
“Uh-huh,” Luna sighed, rotating her hips in a slow, circular grind that made Eryndor’s hands grip the bench edge. “The best game. Remembered my purpose. Got claimed.” She emphasized the word with a shudder of pure delight.
Daisy’s tail began to swish with interest. “Claimed? Like… claimed claimed?”
“Mmhmm.” Luna’s eyes rolled back for a second. “By Daddy. Made me feel all… empty and full. Now I’m just… his.” She said it with the utter, peaceful finality of a fact of nature.
The black-eared girl, Vesper, joined them, moving with a slinkier grace. Her dark eyes scanned Eryndor—his rigid posture, the lipstick smears on his jaw and throat, the way Luna’s body molded to his. A spark of understanding, sharp and keen, cut through the general ditzy haze.
“He’s the elf from the woods,” Vesper stated.
“Daddy’s an elf,” Luna corrected dreamily.
“And he… showed you your purpose?” Vesper pressed, leaning closer. The scent of musk and honey and female want was overwhelming.
Luna nodded, her blonde hair tumbling. “Made me submit. Was sooo good. I came and… poof.” She waved her sticky hand. “Everything got simple. Just be Daddy’s good girl.”
A low, collective whine started in the throats of the two watching girls. It was an instinctual sound, plaintive and hungry. Other heads along the table began to turn, ears perking, tails pausing mid-wag.
Daisy looked from Luna’s blissful face to Eryndor’s stoic, trapped one. A wide, dazed smile spread across her freckled features. “Oh. Oh! That’s what that feeling is! I always wondered why I felt so… wiggly and empty sometimes.”
Vesper’s tongue swiped over her lips. “You let him… dominate you? And it… fixed you?”
“Didn’t fix me,” Luna sighed, finally dropping the roll to cup Eryndor’s face, turning it towards her sisters. “It completed me. Look. He marks me.” She rubbed her thumb over a crimson lipstick stain on his cheekbone, a brand of possession.
The whining intensified. Several girls were now hovering, crowding around the bench, their collective body heat suffocating. Eyes wide and pupils dilated, they stared at Eryndor not as a stranger, but as a solution.
“Luna,” Vesper breathed, her cool demeanor dissolving into raw need. “After dinner… can we… come back with you? And… Daddy?”
Luna’s giggle was high and delighted. She looked up at Eryndor, her expression one of utterly naive generosity. “See, Daddy? I told you I’d share. They wanna play the game, too.”
Eryndor’s world, already upended, narrowed to the circle of watching eyes, the panting breaths, the flicking tails. The mission, the outside world, his very identity, all of it was being swallowed whole by the honey-scented glade. He was no longer a ranger. He was a resource. A focal point.
And dinner, for the horde, was just the beginning.