Drax watched.

As far as he knew, he was the last of his race. His tribe had been wiped out when the orc nation decided to invade his tribal homeland and had slain everyone there. He had only escaped because of luck.

Drax had thought it had been bad luck at first. He had been caught in a mage’s trap and transported over one hundred leagues away into the middle of the Jalpe forest. It was not uncommon for mages to leave such traps in their homes to deter sneak thieves. It used to be that all the mage traps were fatal, but in these modern times, that was frowned upon, and so the mage simply made the thief someone else’s problem by sending them far away. Should anything happen to the thief as they tried to return home, well that wasn’t the mage’s fault.

They couldn’t transport people into areas such as the Urane desert. That would be certain death. But a forest, albeit not exactly a friendly place, had at least a chance of survival. That apparently was enough to satisfy even the most liberal of the bleeding hearts that were dominating law-making these days.

That is why, when Drax’s entire tribe was annihilated, he was three hundred miles away, trying to work his way back home.

It could be considered slightly incongruous, that a legal system that prevented the murder of sneak thieves could countenance the genocidal invasion of a full people’s lands, but the thing was, Drax species were not considered people. They were universally hated and reviled. While Orcs were considered ugly, brutish, and poor neighbours, Drax’s race was never welcomed anywhere. Their eventual destruction, while people would tut and frown at those brutish Orcs for their behavior, would garner quiet sighs of relief at the removal of a blight on all their lives.

This is how Drax became the very last member of the Cuckoldi race.

Standing at just over four feet tall, Drax looked very much like a goblin. He had green skin and sparse wiry hair and pointy ears. He dressed like a goblin too, wearing an animal skin loincloth and jerkin, and sandals made of wood and hide. For a weapon, he had a short dagger. He could be dangerous if attacked, but his skill was in stealth. When Drax stood still, he was virtually invisible. He could hide in any shadow and move completely silently. That is what made him so good at what he did.

Although Drax looked like a goblin, and in fact, his people were distant cousins of that race, goblins disgusted him. They were ugly, dirty, smelly creatures who ate carrion, and sometimes their own dead – sometimes before they were even actually dead.

The trap that Drax had fallen foul of was in a town’s inn. That was normally a safe place to operate. Rich pickings for what he had in mind. Drax, however, wasn’t a thief. He was a breeder.

The hierarchy of the Cuckoldi had been simple. Firstly, there were no females. They were a completely masculine society. The tribe was ruled by the council of elders and was self-sufficient in almost all respects. There were farmers, blacksmiths, bakers, and all the other necessary roles required to keep society working. Then there were the breeders.

Making up about ten percent of the population, breeders had one task. That was to bring new life to the tribe. Since there were no females of his species, that meant impregnating females of other races. This was why Drax’s race was hated and feared. The breeders would sneak into homes, and using both their stealth abilities and the fact that their semen had very strong hypnotic powers on those that ingested it, breed any woman of childbearing age. Drax’s semen was addictive, potent, and copious. He had virtually no refractory period.

Women who ingested enough of his semen, usually around a cupful, or one full ejaculation, would become desperately horny, wanting to be bred over and over. Once they were pregnant, they would become fiercely protective of their baby, even more than normal. After a short, three-month, gestation, the baby would be born and would mature over a matter of the next few months, during which time the mother would literally lay her life down to protect it. People found that killing the baby would be a death sentence for the mother, as she would simply switch off, the trauma of her bastard offspring’s death sending her out of her mind.

After six months or so, the child would be fully mature and would sneak away. It would have no feelings for its surrogate, and racial memory would mean that he would return to the male parent, wherever he had made his base. It was unknown how the child would know where that was.

The mother, having successfully reared her offspring, would act almost as if nothing had happened. She would carry on with her life, having no further thought about her baby, until and if she was bred again. Once a woman had borne the child, her addiction to the semen apparently wore off, but in fact just lay dormant, the merest scent of one of his race, enough to reactivate it and have her dripping in anticipation of being bred again.

What wasn’t really known, because there was usually no profit in it for the breeders, was that if the women continued to ingest the semen for long enough, they would become permanently enslaved to the one producing that semen. Normally that took them getting their stomachs pumped full of cum three or four times over a period of a week or two, but once it was done the effect was permanent.

Men who ingested the semen would simply become docile and suggestible. They would lose the desire to breed, but often would enjoy watching their women being bred. Sometimes, depending on their pre-existing proclivities, they may crave the taste of the Cuckoldi cum, and husbands had been known to consume some of the vast quantities of sperm injected into their wives once the breeder was done. This in no way affected the outcome. Once he had shot his spunk into a fertile woman’s pussy, no matter what herbs or enchantments she was under, unless she was already pregnant, she would bear a Cuckoldi child.

Drax didn’t waste his time on pregnant women, unless he simply wanted to get past them, to another fertile female. He could smell that a woman was pregnant, from almost the instant of conception.

Although male, the non-breeders of his race, had virtually no sexual organs and absolutely no desire. There was never any sexual contact between the males of the race. They simply never had sex. The breeders, however, had much more developed sexual organs. Their testicles were large and productive, and their cocks were huge in comparison to their body size, usually being between ten and twelve inches in length. Drax was slightly disadvantaged in that area only having just over ten and a half inches himself.

This ‘disadvantage’ had never been any kind of problem to Drax, and he had been one of the most prolific of the breeders, his skill at getting into, and out of, buildings and remaining undetected while he performed his task, added many valuable members to his tribe.

The trap he had fallen into, shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Mages were technically not allowed to set magical traps in public buildings, and Inn’s counted, but Drax had just been sneaking into the mage’s daughter’s room when he had felt the ‘snap’ of the trap and found himself in the middle of the jungle.

It had taken him nearly a month to navigate back to his tribe’s lands, and, expecting a great deal of ridicule for getting caught so easily, he had returned to what had been his home.

Drax was shocked to see his village razed, and everyone dead. He went to where the house he had lived in had been and found nothing more than a darker stain on the earth. Everything he owned was lost, and everyone he had known was gone.

This place was no longer safe for him, but he vowed that he would return and that he would get his vengeance on those who had slaughtered his tribe. He had one purpose now, to rebuild the Cuckoldi race. Had any other kind of Cuckoldi survived, then the race would have been finished. But Drax was a breeder. He didn’t need anything other than that which he carried between his legs.

He watched the Orcs strolling over the lands, that had previously belonged to his people for a short while longer, and then melted back into the forest.

Drax watched. It’s what he did. Other members of his tribe ... He grimaced remembering that there were no other members of his tribe left. The reason that he was the most successful of his previous tribe, was that he watched. He was clever, he made a plan. Many of his former tribe mates just scented breedable females and rushed in, relying on their stealth and their addictive cum to carry them to their goal. Many of his tribemates had been captured, injured or even killed in such circumstances. Prior to his getting caught in the mage’s trap he had never even been spotted, let alone caught. Had the mage obeyed the law, he wouldn’t have even been caught that time. It had, however turned out to his advantage.

Drax was watching a house. It was a big house, looking more like a church in architecture, but not a church. Maybe a monastery, only monasteries didn’t have women, and this place had plenty. Almost all the inhabitants were women, he could smell them. There were a couple of men. One seemed to be ancient, and another in his early twenties, but otherwise the majority of the inhabitants of this building were women. A convent then?

It also seemed to be somewhat of a retreat. It was surrounded by a few fields in which grew some garden crops. Potatoes vegetables and such. There were chicken coops and pens with some sheep. He could hear goats bleating and one of the most pervasive smells was the pig-pen, fortunately on the opposite side of the building, otherwise it’s stench would have overpowered everything.

This building was set into a large clearing but still surrounded by forest. He estimated it was a day’s walk from here to the main road, and then another two or three days to the nearest town. He had spent at least a week in the local area, scouting it. He could quite easily live off the land. His stealth made it easy for him to hunt. He could hide in shadows and wait for game to pass him by.

It was early morning, and time for Drax to implement his plan. He knew that this building would make a great base for him to start and rebuild his tribe. It was isolated, and full of women of breedable age. He guesstimated that there were about a dozen women who he had impregnated prior to him being caught in the mages trap, and their progeny would start arriving to his location in about six months or so. He had time.

The progeny of the other breeders who had been caught by the Orc massacre would return to their last location, and more than likely get slaughtered like their forbears.

Drax saw a glimmer of light on the side of the building. The kitchen maid. He had watched her for the last three mornings. She came out and milked the goats, then fed the chickens and collected the eggs. After which she would go around all the other animals feeding and seeing after their welfare. She was going to be his point of entry. He readied himself.

Mary was a novice. She had entered the convent just after her eighteenth birthday, and against her wishes, when her father had caught her walking out with a boy. She had only been holding hands but that had been enough for the older man, and he had banished her to the convent ‘for the sake of her soul.’

She didn’t mind. She rather liked the simple life here. It wasn’t like in the town, where there were all kinds of temptations and pitfalls to be avoided. Her father, being a powerful merchant, had promised her hand to the son of a minor noble from a neighbouring town. Unfortunately, that minor nobles son was just turning ten and it would be another five years before he was old enough to legally wed. This was going to be her home for the next five years. She would be called home when it was time to be wed.

Mary went into the goat shed. There were four goats in here, primarily kept for their milk. They were all nannies in this shed, the billy was kept in another shed. If they put them all in together the nannies would fight over the opportunity to be ‘covered’ by the billy and injure each other.

She milked the goats, and left two buckets of milk standing outside the shed, out of reach of the goats who would, for devilment, kick over the buckets, or even drink the milk. She had made that mistake only once and the cook had taken a switch to her rear. They had no milk that day, and everyone in the convent had been angry with her. So much for forgiveness.

She didn’t notice Drax sneak up to the buckets, as she went off to feed the chickens and collect the eggs.

Drax pulled aside his loincloth, exposing his sizeable cock. Even flaccid it measured an easy eight inches and was as thick as the girl’s wrist. It didn’t stay flaccid for long however. He could will an erection at any time, and he did so now. Silently he took himself in hand, and began to pump his hand up and down his massive meat. The head swelled as he pumped and he started to feel the tingle in his balls as he prepared to dump a load of his cream into the frothy goatmilk in the buckets.

Faster and faster he pumped until with a final silent groan, he emptied his balls into the buckets, shooting four spurts of his thick potent jizz into one bucket, before pointing himself at the other bucket and delivering another five thick wads of his cum into that one. He squeezed the last of his cum into the first bucket scraping the drops off against the rim, and then put his cock away, once more melting into the shadows as Mary returned a basket of eggs in hand. She picked up one of the buckets and transported it into the kitchen and then returned for the second bucket.

Drax figured that he would need another two days to be certain of most of the women in the convent. He was not stupid. He expected that there would be some people in there, who for some reason or other would not drink the milk. He would have to deal with those separately but for now, this was a start.

Mary made her way back into the kitchen with the second bucket of milk. The cook had already used the entirety of the first one to make the porridge that she made for everyone a little creamier. It was mostly made with water, but since they got the extra two goats, she had been putting milk in it much to the delight of all those eating it. The only person who declined porridge with milk was the Mother Superior, who much preferred hers to be made with water. She was a strict taskmaster but she did not ask anyone to do anything she would not do herself. When Mary had first arrived, she had been shown her chores personally by the Mother Superior, who had shown her how to milk the goats, and worked in the garden with her. Mary liked the Mother Superior.

Mary was tasked to take the bowl of porridge made with just water to the Mother Superior, which she did. She then returned to the kitchen to eat her own breakfast before starting her day.

There was something different about the porridge today though. It was creamier, tastier. After just one bowl, she wanted more and went back to the cook to ask if there was any left. Sadly since she was not the only one to think that today’s porridge was tastier than usual, there was only a scraping in the bottom of the pot, but she gladly scraped that out, using her fingers to chase the last scraps out of the now cold pot, before setting to clearing up the breakfast dishes.

After breakfast she went to the chapel, for prayer. She found it difficult to concentrate this morning, her mind mired with thoughts of an earthlier nature, and an itch in her loins that she couldn’t wait to scratch once she had some ‘alone time’ later.

Lunch was bread and cheese, which was made with the goats’ milk. Since it took some time to create cheese this particular batch didn’t have Drax’s ‘special ingredient.’ The afternoon was spent with more and prayers and then confession, which was made to the younger of the two men, who was in fact a priest. Both men were ordained and the elder of the two had been the resident priest of the convent until he had become too old to discharge his duties. The younger man had been drafted in to cover those, and also take care of the older priest in his dotage.

The young priest quietly prayed for the older priests death, as he despised having to provide personal cares for him. He felt it was degrading and should be carried out by others. However it fell to him and he bore it with apparent goodwill.

That evening at confession, there was for some reason a queue, with almost all the nuns wishing to unburden themselves. Father Gregory looked at the queue with some surprise. There were usually one, maybe two nuns who would confess each day. They seemed to take it in turns and would tell him about small transgressions, forgotten prayers and unkind thoughts toward their sister nuns. In turn he would give them minor penances. This arrangement worked well for everybody. The only person he had never had in his confessional was the Mother Superior who apparently never needed to confess anything. He had confronted her once on this, saying that everyone needed the balm of confession and had never dared to do so again.

With a sigh, Father Gregory seated himself in the confessional, and the first of the nuns came in. By the time he had made it through the queue, the inside of the confessional on his side, was spattered with his cum. Initially he had resisted, but when he had cum in his trousers he had pulled his average sized cock out of his trousers and began fondling himself as the nun after nun entered the other side of the partition and confessed their sins. It seems that everyone, today, had become sex crazed, and they described their fantasies, and a couple described how they had been driven to return to their cells, or take refuge in the lavatories and relieve themselves.

Mary, who had seen the queue for the confessional had decided to give confession a miss for today. She had confessed only yesterday in any case, and aside from an itch in her loins, had nothing to confess. She certainly hadn’t done anything about it.

Suppertime went, and since the cook hadn’t made cheese that day, there was enough milk left for each nun to have a half a glass with the vegetable stew and bread which served as the evening meal. The milk too tasted extra special as had the porridge. Mary wondered if the goats had eaten something special that had enriched their milk, but she wasn’t complaining. The flavour was amazing. When she cleared away the dishes, as was her task, she saw there were a few dregs of milk left and she eagerly slurped that up. She also saw a glob of thicker liquid stuck to the side of the bucket near the lip. It was some of Drax’s cum that he had scraped off on the lip, that had, for some reason not dripped down into the milk, or simply been knocked off. It had dried a little but when she scooped it onto her finger, it still held a thick consistency, like cream, and she licked it off her finger. The taste made her head spin, and her pussy clenched, moisture starting to leak down her legs.

Quickly she cleaned out the bucket, and finished up her chores. She wanted to get back to her cell. The itch in her nethers was becoming unbearable. She wanted, no needed, to relieve it.

Mary’s cell, like almost all the others, was small and dark. It didn’t even have a window but was lit by a small thick candle. The cell had bare stone walls and a bare stone floor, which was partially covered by a rush mat. Mary’s bed was a pallet, with a straw mattress. Homespun blankets kept her warm although truth be told her room, backing onto the chimneys for the kitchen, was more often hot than cold. There was little ventilation and as sinful as it was, Mary often slept naked and on the top of her blankets. It was too hot to do otherwise.

When Mary returned to her cell, the last thing on her mind was sleep. Her pussy was drooling and demanded attention. Although she was technically a virgin, she had pleasured herself on many an occasion, and light was not the only thing that the candle in her cell provided some nights. She stripped naked, which was not hard, merely shucking off the homespun wool robe, and sandals was enough to achieve that. Underwear was something that the nuns never used excepting when they were on their monthlies, when they wrapped themselves in loincloths to stem the flow.

Mary blew out the candle and removed it from it’s sconce on the wall, walking surely to her bed. The cell was less than ten feet wide, so there was not far for her to go. She lay on the bed and opened her legs, rubbing the butt end of the candle up and down her sodden slit, moaning quietly to herself.

Her other hand found her love button, and she began to massasge at it increasing the sensation as she pushed the first couple of inches of candle into herself, finding her pussy to be so wet that it slid in easily despite being as thick as two of her fingers. Normally she would have to work up to the candle, but tonight she was so ready.

With sure movements she began to pump the candle into her snatch, thrusting it deeper and deeper inside of herself. She was technically a virgin, but had torn away her hymen some time ago dong exactly as she was doing now. She had worried at the time how her new husband would react to finding her already ‘deflowered’ but she resolved to deal with that when it happened. She would be twenty three when they married, and he would be a fifteen year old virgin. She was sure that she would be able to work things out.

That was far from her mind at the moment though, as she stuffed the candle deeper and deeper into her ravening cunt which squelched and queefed around the intrusion, spurts of her fluids squirting out around the candle as she rammed it into herself with rough abandon. She was savaging her clit with her fingers, rubbing and pulling, wishing that she had more hands. She wanted to rub and pull at her nipples but didn’t want to lose the sensation on her clit or stop pumping the candle into herself.

She was moaning quite loudly now, with each thrust of the candle bringing her closer and closer to the release that she craved. She didn’t notice her door open, the noise of her self pleasure alerting the cook, who had been walking past her room on her way back to her own cell. Nor did she hear the soft sign of another set of robes hitting her stone floor. The first she knew that someone else was in the room with her was when she felt a mouth close over her eighteen hear old breast, sucking the nipple into her mouth. A hand displaced hers from the candle and took over pumping it in and out of her cunt, not as roughly but deeper and more steadily. Mary squeaked, not caring who had joined her, but moving her hand up to her other breast and starting to pull and tweak at her own nipple, as the older nun’s mouth left her tit and after a moment closed around her clit.

Mary screamed out her release, the sensation of the older womans lips, tongue and teeth nipping at her love button sending her over the edge. The candle was still pumping in and out of her prolonging her orgasm with more of her juices squirting out around the intrusion and covering the cook’s hand. The cook’s other hand was busy between her own legs, bringing herself almost to orgasm. Mary felt a hand in her hair and then found her face planted deep into the muff of the other woman. Without thought she began to lap and lick at the pussy that had been pressed into her face. All the time her own hands had got back to work on her own cunt, bringing herself almost instantly to another crashing orgasm as the cooks pussy pulsed and vibrated on her tongue as the older woman came.

The cook stayed in Mary’s cell for most of the night, and they brought each other to orgasm many times, until Mary finally gave up and passed out. With a brief kiss, the cook retrieved her own robe, and left Mary’s cell to return to her own. It was early, nearly time to be waking up for the morning chores in fact, but she passed two other Nuns in the corridors, each on their way back to their own cells having spent the night where they shouldn’t. If that first days’ confessional had had Father Gregory covering the wall in his spunk, the next days would have him ripping his own cock off.

Mary woke. She had no idea what time it was, but she felt that it was time she had to be up. Her room still smelled heavily of sex and she was still sweaty. Her memory of what had happened the previous night was patchy, but she did remember having her face pressed into the pussy of the cook, and lapping at her until she was covered in her delicious juices. That surprised her. She had never had thought of that nature about any of the other nuns, although they all were young and pretty, she guessed. Even the Mother Superior, who was not the eldest, was no more than fifty, and she carried it well. The eldest nun, was in her early sixties. To look at her she looked around fifty, but she was well past bearing children. Matilda, had been in the convent for all of her life, but had never wanted to be more than she was just now. A simple nun, devoting herself to her prayers and devotions.

Groaning Mary got out of bed and donned the robe she wore the day before. Taking a fresh one she went to the baths and washed herself. The water was cold, and she shivered in the pre-dawn air. She dried off with her ‘dirty’ robe before putting it into the bins to be washed. All the robes were communal, one of her duties at the weekend to was to assist in washing and drying the robes for the next week.

She went into the kitchen and found the cook already there making preparations for the day. The cook made no mention of what had gone on the night before, and so Mary followed her lead, picking up the buckets and going into the gardens to begin her chores.

Drax was waiting for Mary. He was hidden by the goat shed, ready to ‘season’ the milk again. However when he saw Mary he realised that she was much further along than he had expected. He figured that he could step things up a little, and take more control of her directly. He waited until she had entered the shed, and had begun the milking before making his move.

Mary never heard him enter the shed. The goats could care less. He was not a threat to them, nor of particular interest since he didn’t bring food. Mary was on her knees her forehead resting on the flank of the goat she was milking. She was tired, having had so little sleep. The first indication that something was different was when she finished with this goat, and she lifted her head and saw him.

Standing the other side of the goat, was a small creature. It was fairly dark in the shed so he wasn’t easy to make out, but he looked around four feet tall, with a thin patch of wiry hair on his head and pointed ears. Her first thought was Goblin, and she was about so scream, when she caught the scent.

Her eyes travelled down his body, and saw that he had pulled his loincloth to one side to expose his manhood. And what a manhood it was. It looked to be big enough that it would take both her hands to wrap around it, and she would have been able to put one hand atop the other and his bulbous head would have still stuck out of the top. She was looking at that bulbous head right now, and there was a pearly of pre-cum, oozing from the wide slit at its point. That was what she had scented. It smelled like the milk from the previous day, she remembered it as being thick, and creamy and delicious. Before she realised what she was doing she leaned forward, across the goat’s back, and lapped at it, taking the pearl onto her tongue.

The flavour exploded into her mouth, and she felt her head spin. This was ecstasy in a taste and she wanted more. Once again she leaned forward, this time engulfing that bulbous head in her mouth. It was so fat, that she could only just get her mouth around it, but she was determined. She had the sense to shield her teeth, although she couldn’t have told you how, and she sucked at the head, drawing out more of the delicious nectar, which sat for a moment on her tongue, causing her head to spin even more, before she swallowed it down, sucking again, begging for more.

She felt a pair of small hands on the back of her head, and Drax slowly pressed forward, forcing the head of his cock deeper into her mouth. She moaned with desire as yet more of his cum leaked onto her tongue and she began to drool around him. He pulled back and she swallowed the mixture of his precum and her spit and he pushed forward once again.

Drax pushed himself right to the back of Mary’s throat, and allowed himself to rest there for almost a minute, while he blocked her breathing, but continued to drool copious amounts of precum into her throat. Then he pulled completely out with a pop. She swallowed the load of precum, and took a deep breath, her mind whirling with the sensations being thrust upon her.

Drax carefully moved the goat and the half full bucket of milk to one side before sliding his cock back into Mary’s mouth, and begging to facefuck her in earnest.

Mary for her part was loving it. She had rucked up her robe and was frigging her clit with abandon, as she felt Drax’s meat plunder her throat. Her other hand was tugging and pulling at his balls, begging them to deliver up their cum.