The first of many fucktoys

"Now Elora, we need to establish some basic rules for you and all other sluts. Let's begin with you as an individual. As my apothecary, I imagine you'll require equipment to fulfill your duties. I take it there's a little more involved than simply mashing berries in a mortar and pestle."

"Correct, Jungle Queen," she responds in a tone I can only call seductively listless. "I would require flasks for boiling, filtering, and distilling different medicines, as well as bottles to store them. They would be more useful to you in bottles sized to appropriate doses than sitting out in vats. The elves of my village are not versed in the requisite glassblowing, but we receive a traveling merchant twice a moon. I'd anticipate their arrival in 5 days or so. At present, I'm only equipped to juice dragonberries."

"I don't have any money or goods for bartering, so we might have to abscond with those flasks (and their seller) by other means. What about Mother's Love? Can you do anything with this?" I produce the basket with a tentacle, withdrawing a few leaves for Elora to assess.

"I could place them upon any wounds you may have, but your magnificent form seems *gasp* unmarred by my foolish attempts to struggle, Jungle Queen. With the proper equipment, I could render a tincture that increases your body's natural regenerative capacity."

"Well, a little boring, but I expected about as much. I'll be sure to keep some on my person whenever I head out. Can't go draining every slut's tits dry just because I get a little scratched up.

"Now for some aesthetic concerns. The slaves of the Jungle Queen of Ruyanei should look as beautiful as she is terrifying. Though your body certainly plays its part well, I can't say the same for your clothes." Her dress, though still recognizable as such, is made from delicate enough material that my little tackle was enough to tear a few holes here and there. I'm not opposed to some exposed skin, but it should be an intentional design and not a reckless consequence of conquest. Besides, with her new curves, she barely fit in the thing anyway. "Are any of the gatherers out there apprentice seamstresses? I can't have you wearing torn tunics, and I'm not one to do any darning."

Pausing to think (something I wasn't sure she could do anymore, given her swift and unwaveringly obedient responses), Elora ponders for a good ten seconds, moaning contemplatively and erotically. "There is, Jungle Queen, but she is hardly ever alone while gathering."

"Oh?" Three bitches a day, minimum. Might as well make it a threesome to hit that quota. "Who is she with?"

Elora leans back against me, looking upon the face of her mistress with a devotion I hadn't seen since I claimed a college sophomore in the locker room. "Annalise often gathers with *moan* Ophelia, a farmhand, while Rhea keeps watch. Rhea is an aspiring warrior, hoping to become a Queensguard at the upcoming trials. She thinks she's a consummate warrior, but has never fought anything worse than a forest wolf."

The Syl'anor Forest Wolf is a pack predator, using pursuit tactics to overtake larger prey. Incidences of solitary wolves are typically due to illness or injury in the given wolf.

This couldn't be more perfect. A wannabe warrior bitch is guarding some new sluts of mine. I could probably take them all in the field and drag them back without issue, but I still haven't seen my mobs in action, and they deserve to get some pussy. And what better way to lead a delusional champion than to set her on a quest to rescue her friends?

I lick my lips, lingering on the tusks. The Dungeon of the Jungle Queen is about to break its first hero!