"Hey, innkeep! I've got more product for you, you got any gold for me?" Lia grinned, and hefted a heavy set of flasks. They were clearly heavy, not just because the innkeep knew Lia's habits, but because her corded arms were bulging just a little from the effort. The innkeep sniffed, and sighed.
Yup
, he thought.
Just as usual, she's trying to tempt me with the merchandise. Wouldn't mind if she wasn't such a gouger.
Looking up, still cleaning a tankard, he narrowed one eye. It wouldn't stop her, intimidate her, or anything like that. But, just as this damn elf was a girl of habit, he played into that. He didn't often think why, but when he did?
Rituals are important for important things
. That made sense. And so, the nonchalant cleaning. Lia heh-heh-hehing (as if he never noticed.) A tired sigh as she hefted them onto the counter, letting just a
little
of that sweet, golden syrup pour out before she "noticed", and capped it again. And dutifully (and not without pleasure) he sniffed.
"So... 50 gold, then?" Lia
scowled
. "This may be quality product, Erieth knows how you get it, but you
know
we don't get that much business..."
Okay,
this
part of the ritual changed a bit. Mainly because she would jack up her price
more
if he used the same excuse twice. And so, after the back and forth, the muttering on his part, and the increasingly loud and angry haranguing on her part, money was counted, and exchanged, and she swaggered from the inn triumphantly, to go get more flasks.
He chuckled, knowing she wouldn't come back until she had more. For all that she was a gouger, he'd been in this business for a long time, and he knew how to cook. She never even realised that her monster honey brought in more business than even her grumpiest rates.
She's a good haggler, but fucked if she can observe well besides that.
He stopped polishing, and sighed. Adventurers who harvested monsterfolk, whatever the product was, stopped coming in, sooner or later, and it wasn't exactly difficult to tell why.
Ah, hell... If she gets in trouble, there's always more coming into town. And that guy with the waist length beard seems to be having a lot of luck with the cowgirls out there.
In this town, as any other, adventurers could buy and sell to their heart's content. But nobody was willing to protect them from their own mistakes.
The forest was always cool. Never cold, because winter didn't hit as hard here as other places, but even in the hottest summers, the dappled shadows protected travellers from the sun, and the pleasant breeze both refreshed, and made a symphony of rustlings that set the heart at ease. Lia
loved
it. She wasn't a woodsy girl, and she enjoyed the bustle and cries of the towns (And the girls... Ohh, she'd be back
soon
), but she appreciated beauty almost as much as she appreciated her next nice... Heavy bag of gold.
She stopped, and leaned her back against one of the nearby trees. Stretched her arms above her head (She was proud of those arms. And, you know... Other folks liked them too.) And frowned. She would come back to town, and she would probably be heavily laden like she always was, hopping to the river along the way to wash off the cum from horny beefolk. But she couldn't lie to herself, she wanted to
really
show that smug innkeep. The only reason she hadn't done it yet was that, underneath her confident exterior, she
knew
there were...
Risks. Oh, yeah, risks. Adventurers
talked
, and all too often, when the drinks were downed, and the pretty boys and ladies were fucked, they would gather, and the mood would turn somber. And
some
asshole would mention Jake, or Helga, or... Fuck, it didn't matter
whose
name it was, the story followed the same verse, chorus, and multiple climaxes in between. Mockingly, she imitated the latest storyteller's version, doing her best to do a gruff, melancholy growl.
"Hrngh, yeah, we've definitely lost Lena. You know, Black Helena, that girl with the
huge
bolas who went after giantesses? Mmhm, that's the one, I remember her
shattering
that chair over... Yeah, yeah, I'll get to it. Don't we always? So... I'm wandering around the base of the mountains, and I hear her. I can't
not
hear her, because she's on the verge of causing an avalanche, she's crying so loud."
Bullshit
"And, sure enough, I climb the next butte... Shut up, I'm doing what you wanted, aren't I?"
She coughed. That bit was hard. Recovering, she carried on. It was a good vent, after all, and nobody cared here. Nobody was
near
enough to care. "So I climb the next butte, and, sure enough... There she is, and there
she
is, probably a 12 footer, with wild red hair, and even wilder pubes. Not that I could see 'em at first, they were
drenched
in cum. And so was Lena. I've seen a lot, but a giantess with a dick that big? No wonder her eyes were rolled up in her head, arms limp. That gal was using her like one of those... Shit, can't remember the name, you jack off into them... Eh, never mind, she was a fucktoy. She'd probably enjoyed it, but then... Well, you know how the few who come back feel. And you know how they don't come back for long. Fucked brainless, and she probably loved every second, somewhere in there."
She mimed drinking, and let out that long
huff
Teodor always made. She didn't like Teodor, he was a grumpy son of a minotaur who pounded cowgirls while he milked them. And she wouldn't have minded if he was the subject of a story next time. Hell, she would probably use
that
tale as a masturbation aid. The strong dumbass who sucked
both
tits. Self consciously, she glanced at her own. Honestly, Left Breast seemed pretty damn tempting right about now, she always felt flat compared to the human ladies. I mean,
they
liked her tits, and the puffy, pointy nipples, but...
She pushed herself off the tree, and gathered her backpack, checking that it was secured. This one was going to be big, and the
last
thing she needed was for two of her flasks to knock together. Drones, they could be persuaded, and she'd gotten a lot of honey after they'd cum a few loads, refusing to lick their chests no matter how much they teased and tempted.
No... Today she was going for the source. She had a rough idea of how many drones, there was only ever one Queen, and beefolk made their little cave hives... Well, they always wanted their larva chambers cooler, so with only a little bit of scouting, she'd worked out the most likely spot, a runoff into the cave. She wasn't going to settle for sloppy seconds.
She was gonna go
royal
.
The cave was, as she expected, quite cool. All was silent, as the Drones were out collecting for their mistress, and the coast was very much clear. Quickly, silently, she slipped inside, pleasantly noting it was lit with giant glowbugs. It would normally have irritated, but she was getting a free ride, so that extra visibility helped out.
After a little while, however, she was getting annoyed, and, not caring about the noise, stamped one of her feet on the ground and huffed. Natural cave or no, this was a
maze
. And she was at least going in the right direction, but... She cut her thoughts short. She could
smell
it. It was
close
. And she had to hurry, because the Drones weren't going to be out
all
day. And they'd probably fuck her silly if she was caught. Not, like,
permanently
silly, but she'd probably be dripping cum for a while, and coming back to town without her clothes, and that would be
embarassing
.
Still, the scent was growing stronger, and
ohhhh it smelled so good
. She was rushing, not checking around her, without even realising it, and soon... The Birthing room. The Drones were nothing if not dutiful, filling their queen almost daily, cumming into her, and she would birth the lava, leaking her royal jelly over them to preserve them,
feed
them.
The room was
dripping
with it, and the floor was a sticky mess that sank up to the middle of her heels. Against the walls were the store for larvae, filled with that sweet,
awh yes so sweet, what a score
... She just breathed it in for a minute, and it warmed her just from its presence. The innkeep would probably hem and haw, because getting caught with this stuff was a heavy fine, but... He'd pay through the god-damn
nose
. Especially if she left one uncorked. Setting her bag hanging from an overhang, thankfully less sticky, she untied one of the flasks, and set to work. She wouldn't be able to just scrape it, this time, so she knelt, and slathered some over her hand, letting it drip, ooze down to the neck of the bottle, tantalisingly hanging on the neck with every syrupy dripping. And her hand...
She was leaning down, the smell overpowering in her nostrils, hypnotised with each squeeze, with each drop beading, stretching, globules forming and lengthening as they went, and... Her tongue reached out of its own accord. She wanted to taste it. She
needed
to taste it. Because her hand already felt warm, spreading to the rest of her body, and...
It set fire to her senses, a ripple of delight on her tongue, and she closed her mouth, caressed it on the roof of her mouth... No, this was
really
good stuff, and she wanted