The southern lands!

"Send me south, I'll start there", I announce. Without any fanfare, the Studio Assistant does her job. One moment I'm standing in the studio, the next I'm standing by my horse in the middle of an opening among marshlands. There are mosquitos buzzing and the heat, not to mention the humidity, certainly, confirm that I'm far south. The trees seem to be mangoes and palms and citrus, or at least very similar. I taste one fruit and sure enough, it's good.

"Here we are Komet", I say as I climb on my Brandenburger horse. "Time to explore!" With a smack, the mare gallops forward. The trees to the north seem thinner, so I head there. Sure enough, Komet has little trouble navigating past them and soon enough we come upon a road. I pull out my compass and it confirmes that the road follows a roughly east-west line. It doesn't really matter, so I flip a coin and - west it is.

The sun is beating pretty hard on me but my hat protects me well enough, so the leisurely pace that Komet had adopted suits me well. An hour or two pass when a shriek breaks my peaceful tranquillity. It came from somewhere ahead on the road.

"Onwards Komet, it sounds like we have fair maidens to rescue!" She does not seem as eager to head towards battle but does accept my guidance.

After passing a thicket that had partially grown over the road, I come upon a scene of carnage. A column of wagons, with horses tethered to them, are standing ahead of me, in the middle of the road. The two horses pulling the first one lie on the ground, bleeding profusely. A fairly large number of women are engaged in combat, some using crude looking flintlock muskets, others with capslock rifles. Yet many more are wielding swords, spears or axes. Already there are multiple corpses.

"Hmm, who are the attackers and who the defenders?" I muse out loud. The two groups are completely mixed together in a wild melee, but several women are wearing snake-skin armlets, moccasins and nothing else. And there's one standing to the side, in a snake-skin bikini, her hands glowing with eldritch energy. Beside her, stands a frankly giant of a man, in only a loin-cloth, holding a massive maul. So the snake-women are the attackers.

"Well, they definitely fit the old cliche of a primitive raiding band, so I guess I should side with the civilized traders", I say. This habit of talking to myself might be an early symptom of going nuts but oh well. Komet seems to agree with me as she takes few steps forward.

But I'm really not fond of the idea of just slaughtering these women, bandits or not. "Komet, aim at that big dude", I order and the mare, smarter than she has any right to be, follows my command to letter. We weave through the combat like a divine wind, Komet pulling up a mere ten metres from the Bandit Lord. I leap off my horse, pointing at the guy with one hand, posing all heroically.

"Surrender or die!"

He laughs at my challenge, lifts the maul above his head with both hands and begins to charge. And just like in the movie, I whip out my gun and shoot him straight in the face. The bullet flies true and kills the poor dude instantly, splattering his brain over the Shaman-Witch who screams like it was her skull that got blasted apart. As I holster my gun, she points one hand at me and spits out few words, her index finger glowing purple - which turns into a beam that hits me!

Good thing I have my magic reflection ring.

The beam bounces off my nose and hits the Shaman-Witch herself, whose eyes turn glassy as she slumps to the ground.

Around us, the battle dies down as the bandit-women see their leadership fallen and seem to decide that surviving beats dishonour, so they run into the woods.

I holster my gun and take stock of the situation. The women of the column are busy taking care of their wounded, for now, so I step over the fallen Shaman-Witch. On a closer look, she is damn fine! Pretty short, maybe 160 cm or so - but all woman, with a voluptuous body straight from the pages of Playboy. My eyes roam her curves up and down, which is an easy task since her snake-skin bikini doesn't leave much for the imagination. What it does, is to emphasize her fat tits, slim waist and shapely hips. A tasty morsel in a handy little package. I effortlessly toss her on Komet and lead the horse with me to the column.

The merchant-women eye me warily, though nobody points a weapon at me and they do not try to stop me as I enter the column. They are all wearing leather and cotton - leather bustiers over cotton peasant blouses and slitted mini-skirts to allow mobility and leather boots. It's almost like a uniform - a cock-stirringly sexy uniform for sure! There are acres of thigh and breast on display.

"We owe you our thanks stranger", a deep bass voice comes from one of the wagons. An old guy stands there, leaning against yet another gorgeous woman. This one has silver armlets on, probably signifying rank or something like that. I tip my hat at him, dude looks like he is on the ****'s door already, though his ZZ Top beard certainly looks impressive.

"Not a problem mate", I tell him, "you're lucky I happened to be riding this way". He nods at me and waves his hand over the column.

"Indeed. Without you, many more of mine would have been slain. I would be honoured if you would break bread with us tonight, stranger. We will make camp right here, the swamp folks will not dare to attack again so soon", the grandpa explains.

"I'll be glad to accept the invitation. Just one question - what should I do with her?" I ask and lift up the head of the **** Shaman-Witch. Gandalf-lookalike says something to the woman next to him who starts barking out orders. Two women grab the Shaman-Witch, gag and bind her and then drag her away.

In short order, the place is completely transformed. The wagons are circled together just off the road, leaving ample space between them and a bonfire is built in the middle. The wounded are patched up, the dead are stripped and dragged to the side. Pots and pans are set over the fire, and a couch gets erected in a central location. Grandpa-Gandalf insists I sit next to him on it. One girl brings us a platter of fruits to nibble on as another pours sour wine for us to drink. A delicious aroma reaches me from the cooking stations and suddenly I'm hungrier than ever. I guess that's what a brush with **** does to you?

While his underlings were busy with all these preparations, Grandpa-Gandalf or Metzinger as his name turned out to be, shared his story. He was one of the few remaining independent traders - the grandfather of his grandfather had earned an Imperial trader commission long ago, back when such independent traders were the only commercial link between the four realms of the Empire. Now though, Merchant Princes and their wealthy Houses had driven most independent traders to bankruptcy or worse.

"I keep up a boisterous image for the sake of my people", he admitted while slurping a bowl full of steaming soup, "telling the Princes to go fuck themselves but the truth is, I'm tired and ready to quit this business. If it's not the taxes, it's the tariffs. Or the cartels or price-fixing or paying bandits to raid me. And the limp-dick Emperor is under their thumb and knows little of what happens outside the Capital, and cares even less".

The fruits and wine give way to succulent meats, steamed vegetables and bubbly soup, all washed down with such weak ale, that it might as well be swamp water. Metzinger explained how his followers were a mixture of his children, his cousins and the occasional runaway and a stray that his girls would pick up.

"How does that work", I ask while chewing a chicken leg, or something that very closely resembles a chicken leg.

"I had four boy-brothers and six kathos-brothers, all of whom sired children before their **** or departure from the column", Metzinger answered. I actually went speechless for a while there. But sure, without need for tracing land ownership and no easy binary pairings, why would there be a monogamous marriage system?

"And I've lost count of how many children I've sired. Unfortunately for the continuation of my lineage, it seems that I am incapable of producing male heirs. Trust me, I've fucked all the women here multiple times, as well as all the kathos too, just in case. A lot of girls though", Metzinger chuckles before sobering up: "I even went as far as paying one of those bitchy sorceresses to fix me but to no avail".

Two young girls collect the remains of the dinner just in time as the sun sets down. More wood is thrown on the bonfire and the first notes of music arrive, as a group of players get going.

"Ah but enough of such dark thoughts. Let us drink and enjoy the minstrels. Let it not be said that Metzinger is stingy with his gratitude!" He laughs heartily and slaps my shoulder.

Sure enough, the players have gotten up to full speed and an opening has been created between our couch and the bonfire. Two women, clad only in jewellery and silk veils, step into it, starting a sensual dance. As nimbly as circus acrobats, they slide around and across each other, the gemstones and precious metals reflecting the light from the fire, while the silk veils accentuate womanly curves instead of hiding them. Soon enough the show has me hard and, without thinking about it, I unbuckle my trousers to give Old Reliable some breathing room.

As if by magic, a brunette with tits the size of footballs appears by my side. She places a pillow between my boots, then kneels upon it, flashes me a wicked smile and before I even have time to question it, or decide whether I need to question it, has my dick in her mouth.

"Uuuh, -aah, what", I say. I know, the epitome of eloquent. I look at Metzinger for guidance but the old man is too busy to pay attention - sure enough, another brunette is ears deep in his lap, the old man's grizzled paw over her head while his eyes are following the lithe movements of the dancers.

"Well, when in Rome", I mutter to myself and push my trousers down bit further. My unnamed fellatrix smiles gratefully and gets back to work. And oh boy, what work it is! She definitely enjoys giving blowjobs and has had plenty of practice. Most interestingly, she's not coaxing me towards an orgasm. No, she seems content on nursing my manhood as every time I tense up, close to climax, she takes a breather and allows me to cool down a little. The dancers eventually discard their silks and embrace each other, the dance turning into a lesbian sex-show for our pleasure.

That's enough teasing for one evening.

I grab the chestnut curls of the sucking delight between my legs and pull her head deeper. She seems to understand as her tongue moves to overdrive and her cheeks turn concave. I can't say whether it's the sex-show, the exotic surroundings, the fact that I haven't exchanged a single word with her and don't even know her name, or the whole nine yards, but I come like a fucking geyser, my toes curling and stars exploding in my eyes. Like a trooper, she swallows and swallows and swallows.

When I finally come down from Cloud Nine, I realize she's been staring at me while holding my softening dick in her mouth. Now that I'm paying attention, she licks her way up and swallows one last time, making a show of it, before smiling once more. I grin like a doofus as she vanishes into the shadows.

"The girls have prepared a bed for you Willie", Metzinger states as he stands up, leaning against the same matronly woman as earlier in the day. "I'm afraid I lack the stamina for all-night revelry, so allow me to bid you good night", he waves one hand as he is led away. Well, so far it's been pretty impressive revelry, so I sort myself and stand up. A different lady, this one with jet-black hair, curtsies at me and clearly holds the pose long enough so that I can appreciate the melons inside her blouse.

"If you follow me Sir", she chirps out. Oh man, I thought I was done for the night after that divine blowjob, but her voice just drips sex. There's a stirring in my loins already. How the fuck did Grandpa ever return to Earth if he had pleasures like these to enjoy? Who cares. I'm the Big Damn Hero in a camp full of women. Time to go nuts!

I grab the raven-haired beauty and pull her for a deep kiss. She's surprised but soon enough melts into the kiss. The mini-skirt doesn't even come close to protecting her bum from my exploring hands and there's plenty in there to appreciate. So I get a good hold and lift her up. She squeals in delight as I toss her over my shoulder and give her rump a meaty slap as I walk towards the nearest wagon.

"What's your name and which wagon?"

"Oh, I'm Rashida and it's that wagon", she answers, one foot trying to point somewhere to my left. Eh, what's the worst that could happen? I don't get to find out since I happen to walk to the right wagon on my very first try. The bed of the wagon has been cleared of everything else, with the bottom covered by a veritable sea of carpets and pillows. It looks soft enough so I toss Rashida in the middle of it. She giggles. How can a giggle sound sexy? No time to think about that, I need to get naked as quickly as possible. Rashida follows my example and just as kick my boots off, she reveals her well-tanned curves. And, surprising lack of body hair!

Apologies for intruding but that was something that I pulled out of your mind without you having to vocalize it. Just like I did with the average cup size of breasts. It is far faster to get such details directly from the mind of the Master than to quiz them for it.

A lesser man would have shit his pants when a disembodied voice suddenly talks to them in their head and to be honest, I almost did. Okay, thanks, that's great, now leave me alone, I quickly thought directly at the Studio Assistant. Distraction thus bypassed, I leapt at Rashida and buried my face between her pendulous boobies, squeezing and kissing and pinching and licking and fondling and sucking. She moaned appreciatively at the attention, running her fingers through my hair. I don't know long I was in there, but I felt little faint when I finally rolled to one side and my dick was certainly pointing straight at the stars, ready for his part in exploring new lands. Rashida leaned against me and pointed at the two figures that were standing next to the wagon:

"Sir if you wish, Nour and Maat here can join us".

Hot damn. Thanks, Grandpa. Best inheritance ever.

"The more the merrier, get naked and in here", I tell them without thinking about it. Both of them follow my command and then I realize that while both have delectable tits, only one has a pussy, while the other has a dick.