Mule
How long had it been since he had been brought here? All sense of time came and went like the clouds that cluttered his mind and the ones that flew overhead in the sky. It was the drug -- the byproduct of a distilled bean resin that killed almost instantly, but assuredly. Knick a finger with a tainted knife, and if you cut off the arm soon enough you can save the victim. But once it entered the chest, it stopped the heart, the lungs, and all other organs instantly. There was no cure that was quick enough.
He focused his mind on simple facts to try and stay awake.
But he had learned a secret -- a self induced torpor. The poison decomposed in water, even the water in blood. If one could stop the heart quickly enough, and for long enough, the poison would grow inert before it could do any damage. However, waking up from torpor would be just as damaging, sometimes permanently. If one survived, the decomposed poison was also a powerful hypnotic drug. The master mystic that he learned this technique from took a month before he was back to his feet. It was a year before the master was ready to attempt it again. No other students that had attempted this had awakened again. No one had ever done what he had done. No one had ever beaten the poison.
He wobbled his limp head to one side and looked at his left arm. He could lift it. He could close the fist. But it was the only part of his body that he could move that well. His eyes worked, but it was always blindingly bright out, except at night. In the morning, once his captors left, he exercised his limbs and muscles to regain mobility. By noon, with the sun overhead and it being too bright to see, he covered his eyes with one of the tattered blankets around the nest and napped. In the evening, when they returned, they used him for recreation before all falling asleep.
They were Harpies, a dying breed of half men, half birds. They were the result of a mating between an elder Harpai and a large raptor. It was a crude necessity for a race banished and hunted by civilized peoples for their cannibalistic tendencies. Harpais and Harpies ate the dead -- just like scavenger birds. Their mother was a Harpai, a pureblood. She was ageless, immortal and powerful, but capable of being killed, just like her kin. There was no telling how old she was, or just how strong. But she was the one that saw him for a plaything, and so long as she was in control, he was safe.
Their nest was a cleverly constructed net of rope and rough hewn boards, probably salvaged or stolen from farmsteads in the area. It wasn't without accommodations; there were pilfered blankets, pillows, straw beds and a few trinkets that caught the Harpies' eyes.
Her daughters were a curious duo, constantly poking and clawing at his limp limbs -- playing their game of "does he feel that?" As of yet, they hadn't bitten anything of his off. Their mother amused herself with his manhood; every night she tried to arouse his flesh, but just like the rest of him, there were mixed results and little reflex.
He thought back to the last time he had encountered either Harpies or Harpais; he knew it had been a long time, but the memories just couldn't make their way through his muddled brain. Nothing much did. At times it caused him fits of panic -- usually sparked when he couldn't remember the last day, or how long he had been there.
Every time they arrived at the nest it was a startling discovery to see these winged sirens alighting in the air for a moment before landing gently in the quite nest. First their mother arrived, with her golden and white feathered wings folding gracefully around her form like a strapless gown. Followed by her children, their mottled brown and black feathers hanging relaxed down their backs like cloak - they cared little for grace and even less for modesty. Their naked bodies barely seemed nubile by human standards, but by harpy standards their under endowed forms probably served for better flight. He couldn't remember facts as he once did. Unlike their mother who was almost completely human-like, from the waist down her children had spindly, feather covered legs ending in raptor feet. Their faces had a slight animalistic-avian quality. Their hair was straight and thick, almost quill-like. Their faces were round and flat, more human than animal, but when they flashed their sharp teeth it gave them a terrifying countenance, even when they didn't mean it to. Not wanting to risk staring he rolled his head to one side and took his normal blank-stare position out towards the east.
"Hungry?" She spoke softly and came to nestle herself next to his head. She laid on her side, and one wing unfurled under her slightly to expose a heavy breast. He nodded his head honestly -- he hadn't eaten all day, and the drug in his system impeded any protest. "Eat then." She said and with firm arms pulled his weak head to her waiting nipple. His lips latched instinctively and he sucked. Something about her made it difficult to resist anything she told him to do.
The Harpai woman held her breath and let it escape slowly over the long pleasurable moments of his suckling. Her head slowly leaned back as her eyes fluttered shut. Her mother's milk flowed, and he drank it deeply without letting a dribble escape. For days she had nursed him back to health in this manner. He was too weak to hunt, and even too muddled in the head to eat what they brought him. It wasn't all too unpleasant for her either; in fact it made her want him all that much more. Their nest was more blissful with him here, he was warm at nights and her daughters would soon know the pleasure she knew, and eventually have offspring of their own. Their family would grow large enough to defend their home once again.
She was content, despite the alluring waves of pleasure from his feeding.
When she finally opened her eyes again, Yuma was nestled between his legs and staring at the limp flesh there. She had taught them what it was for, but sometimes their curiosity got the better of them. They had been sternly warned not to hurt him or bite him, and if they behaved themselves she would give them a treat.
"Harla, come preen your sister." Her voice caught suddenly in her throat from a surge of pleasure coming from her breast -- he had bitten a bit too hard. Harla, who had his hand in hers and was inspecting it over and over dropped it and crawled over to her sister who sat between his legs. "Yuma, you too." Yuma looked up from moving his limp thick meat back and forth to Harla and sat up straight.
Harla came to sit in Yuma's lap, wrapping her legs around her sister's bare waist, and their hands intertwined for a moment. They kissed softly, affectionately, as their hands started to explore each other's face and neck. Where they found a smudge of dirt, or an uneven tuft of hair, they licked and cleaned the other. Yuma pushed Harla's brown hair straight back, and in that moment their bodies were identical -- they were twins. But upon release, it sprang forward with a coarse spikiness of quills her sister's smooth black hair lacked. Yuma giggled.
"Stop it." Harla warned and nipped playfully at her sister's ear. Yuma squealed as her sister's sharp teeth drew a drop of blood. But Harla flicked her tongue over the bite and collected the crimson drop, and her sister's wrath was abated. "You've got grease all over your neck." Harla scowled and proceeded to lick it clean. It was Yuma's favorite spot to have cleaned. She always tilted her head way back and held her breath throughout it. "You're a messy eater." Harla said between long, licking strokes up her sister's neck.
"Can't help it." Yuma purred. "I like the juicy parts."
"You'll get fat." Harla chided and pinched her sister's side. Yuma moaned a complaint. Finished with her sister's neck, Harla glanced back at her mother's blissful, oblivious face as she nursed the human. "She seems to like that a whole lot."
"Mmmhmm." Yuma mumbled as she leaned in to lick clean her sister's chin and neck. Harla sighed delightedly as her skin responded to the attention. Preening wasn't so much a chore now that they were older. In fact it had grown more and more enjoyable in the last year or so. At first their mother said they were becoming women, but didn't explain it any more than that. Then, a few months back, their mother had started to teach them about taking a mate. It wasn't so interesting before when mother took men to their nest, but now that this man was here Harla couldn't stop staring at him -- he was a curiosity. Especially since her mother forbade them both from eating him. It didn't help that he looked tasty too.
A new sensation tingled across her chest, up her neck, and turned into a soft mew from her throat. She turned back to find Yuma preening her breasts. She wanted to protest and scold her for being silly, but for some reason when Yuma's tongue came out again and touched its wet, rough tip across her erect little nub, it sent shivers down her back and her breath escape in a delightful moan.
"It feels good right?" Yuma teased and licked the other one. Harla threw her head back, but stopped whatever sound was about to come out at her throat. "Good like how momma likes it?"
"Oh yes!" Harla hissed quietly, trying not to get them in trouble. Their mother would ignore them for a while during feeding. They had tried to rouse her from it a before before, but she wouldn't have them interrupting. "More please." She gasped and muffled her squeals against her sister's head as another wet lick electrified her nipples. Her hands instinctively came to cradle Yuma's head to her chest, and she started to nuzzle her.
"I'm next, don't forget." Yuma cooed in a quiet voice and teasingly started to lavish her sister's other breast. It was surprisingly pleasurable to the young Harpy to feel what their mother must have felt each night when she fed the human. No wonder she seemed to enter a trance and didn't want to be disturbed.
"Ow! Not so hard!" Yuma growled, as Harla was starting to knead her sister's scalp, and her claws had scratched. It startled her out of her daydreaming, and she recoiled her hands.
"I'm sorry!" she whispered, and attempted to preen the cuts she had made. Yuma was being inconsolable and instead guided Harla's lips to her own chest. Without another word Harla apologized by sending Yuma into short pleasurable spasms, exciting all the same nerves in her pert young breasts. Her tongue swirled around each nipple and she marveled how they grew long and hard. She touched one with her fingers and felt its firmness between them. Touching them was just as enjoyable as preening, by Yuma's soft mewing. Yuma mirrored her curiosity and together they explored each other's sensitivity. She liked it best when something stroked her budding nipples, but Yuma preferred to be pinched.
