The night begins

You arrived at the Inn/Tavern as the sun set. The Captain had temporarily unclamped your teats so she she could sample your milk before clamping them again and leading you from the dressmaker's.

Count Tourmaline was ruthlessly reprimanding the Innkeeper, a chubby older woman. Though being Human, she was no doubt much younger than Count Tourmaline despite the Elf's youthful appearance. He wanted more fruit and vegetables for their meal. The Captain, while she squeezed your bruised arse, explained that most Elven nobles avoided meat and dairy. The thought of having to give up sausage sounded dreadful to you!

Thankfully, it seemed the Count was ordering specifically for himself, and you enjoyed a meal of stew and potatoes. There were also dumplings with steak and kidneys and carrots. The Elves told you more about the lands they would travel to reach your new home and spoke on some of what you stood to inherit and expectations regarding your new status.

In particular, you learned that these elves are residents of the neighbouring Elven State called the Great Domain of Loten-Rael. The border of this state is several days' journey to the east. You also learned information that your deceased father, the Duke, was one of the vassals of the ruler of this elven state. By the way, the ruler in this state has a special title, he is not a King, but the “Supreme Most Serene Lord”. Moreover, these haughty Elves, who **** you to leave your usual place of residence, found it necessary to tell you in detail how wrong it is for you to show vulgarity in your appearance and in your behavior. The Elves spent a long time explaining to you the intricacies of Elven Noble etiquette and the need to observe sublime Noble manners. While you listened to these long-winded explanations, you had great difficulty holding back a yawn.

The villagers who were also at the Inn for their dinner were inquisitive and lively, and quite how they managed to all come over and grope you without Count Tourmaline noticing was a mystery. Your clit ached as it throbbed against it's clamp, and your poor tits felt more full than usual.

It dawned on you that you often made more milk while pregnant, nursing, or during your most fertile times. Your last birthing was a few months ago, and you knew you weren't pregnant. Yes, it was the latter. Just as well it's a village of women, it would've been a bit awkward to show up with a mostly Human bastard to claim an Elven title, wouldn't it?

Feeling warm, full, and tired, you asked one villager that had gone as far as unclamping one of your teats and drank from you about the legend of the village.

"Oh yes, our ancestors sacrificed all their men to the Wild God Painal for wealth, fertile lands, and long lives. I'm sixty-nine years old." That seemed ridiculous, she didn't look older than thirty. But... how does the village prosper without men to father children? "We are all Servants of Painal now, and he donates to our continued existence, something you will get to experience tonight."

Your eyes drooped, and you fell into her arms, only wincing as she clamped your teat again before you fell asleep.

~○~

... the men, a weak and cowardly bunch, were all dead. Daggers with a goat's head decorating the pommel was buried in their chests. As the women chanted, the forest moved and a Satyr stepped forward. He was large and fat, with his immense length swinging between his legs.

Painal, the God of Masculinity, Nature, and Fertility, stepped forth. He had other dominions. He was also called the God of the Subjugation of women. The God of Corrective ****. The God of Men.

So he was amused that a village of women would kill all their men in his name. The Mayor's wife, a mature but still beautiful woman, stepped towards him. She removed her clothing until she was naked before him.

"Lord Painal, our men were weak. They prayed to Elven God's and would pay bandits rather than form a militia to stamp the villains out of our lands. The women of this village ask you to take these who betray you and all our Gods, and please bless us with your love." She got on her knees, so close that her breath was felt by his hardening cock.

He did bless them. The Elven blood that lingered in the veins of the villagers from the time of the Elven Empire (the so-called "Empire of the Diamond Throne", which existed about 500 years ago) was strengthened by his Divinity to allow the women to live longer than other humans. Their youthfulness would linger for longer. They would never become withered. Creatures of the forests would kill all present and future bandits. The crops would be bountiful. And in return, Painal would return each changing of the season and seed them. Some of his sons might visit at other times. But it was expected that now and forevermore, the women would seek to subjugate their fellow women for his amusement.

~○~

You woke to discover you were naked, except for your clamps, and hearing moans of pleasure. You looked and saw Count Tourmaline... Countess Tourmaline? Your escort was getting railed by a Satyr and... had tits? They, they were too big to have been hidden by the Elven Noble's clothes. The Satyr scopped Tourmaline's legs up and held the Elf aloft while fucking her arse. Between her legs was a cock. No... it was too tiny. But it was. A little dicklet that flopped uselessly.

And as the Satyr bleated and bloated Tourmaline's guts with more goo, you saw the dicklet shrink further and... become a pussy.

"It is your turn, Duchess Pinky," a voice rumbled. You turned to find the source, seeing many more Satyrs tirelessly fucking and degrading the human women villagers and the female Elves of Tourmaline's Guard. The Captain was rimming the arse of one Satyr who was wider than he was tall! "Hopefully you will be a more satisfying cocksleeve than... Tourmalina over there."

A ten foot tall Satyr sneered down at you. He was a huge glutton, with a belly that shook when he moved. His enormous cock was beyond anything you'd ever seen. His skin was tanned from years under the sun, his fur thick, with curls in a chaotic mess.

Among the tangled thick dark hair on his head, two curved horns are visible.

You whined in pain as your clit and teats swole up and met the resistant oppression of cruel clamps. Painal, for who else could the Satyr be, laughed at your discomfort and waved a hand. The clamps disappeared, but the pain doubled as blood rushed to swell the affected areas more.

"Oh I feel we will enjoy our night together." Painal said. "Or at least, I will. Which is what is important."

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