Chapter 14

Extracting the seed from Taylor went ... poorly. After nearly a half hour of effort, Peter had made little progress trying to pull the seedling out the normal way. Despite the liberal application of numbing and lubricating gel and the fact that he was able to grip the seed much easier by using its new five-inch-long rootlets, the melon-sized main body would not budge from Taylor’s uterus. Each time he pulled; the girl would scream in pain. She also began bleeding heavily which made Peter suspect that the seedling’s roots had not been the only thing regenerated by his overuse of magic.

Finally, the Mohennial had seen enough. She pushed Peter forcefully aside and took charge. At first, Peter thought that Taylor would simply be sacrificed, her legs amputated or paralyzed, and her still-seeded body planted in one of the Mohennial empty greenhouse cells. Peter had no doubt that the woman would not hesitate to kill the seed bearer as long as the seed remained viable.

But the ancient woman surprised him when she instead ordered an emotionless attendant to fetch her surgical tools. Peter was further surprised when he was directed to scrub up with the woman at the nearby basin. After first washing vigorously with normal soap, they then used a reddish liquid from a large glass jar. The substance smelled just like the Betadine disinfectant commonly used at Earthly hospitals.

The assistant then helped them each dress in clean gowns, don surgical gloves, and put on masks. Peter was shocked to see the masks had printed logos from a notable Earth medical supply company. He was curious but too nervous at that moment to dare ask how the hell the Mohennial had procured synthetic gloves and masks.

Once Taylor had been raised onto a portable copper surgical table, Mistress Sala held her gloved hand over the girl’s head and mumbled a few short words. The girl immediately fell into a deep sleep. The Mohennial then directed the assistant to pour more of the reddish disinfectant liquid liberally over Taylor’s swollen abdomen. He then watched with awe as the Mohennial performed an emergency Cesarean, hands expertly wielding the scalpel fluidly as she quickly sliced her way down into Taylor’s bloated uterus.

Sala worked with speed and confidence, clearly having done similar procedures before. Peter noticed that what little bleeding there was, was quickly brought under control by the Mohennial applying delicate sutures. A few times, with heavier bleeds, she used a magic cauterizing wand. Soon, the melon-sized seedling was free of the unconscious woman and placed into a shallow pan. Peter saw that the seed’s root legs were slowly moving, indicating that the seed was still very much alive.

He turned the tray around to inspect the seed’s opposite end and found as expected, a newly regrown mouth. The ring of new sharp teeth were slowly flexing as the plant sought out a new source of nourishment. Sala confirmed that the little beastie had chewed deeply into the top of Taylor’s uterus right between her fallopian tubes.

Peter watched the ancient woman carefully begin to repair the damage. Again, she used a combination of mundane sutures along with magic to treat Taylor’s extensive internal injuries. The latter methods being in the form of focused regeneration spells and liberal amounts of the plant’s own healing sap.

“Peter, I’ve got this!” the Mohennial said sharply, suddenly realizing that he was just standing there watching her work. “Go get the seed properly transplanted before it succumbs!”

Realizing that he had no choice but to trust the disturbingly-beautiful old crone to keep Taylor alive, Peter grabbed the tray and quickly left the improvised operating room. Another stoic assistant led him down a corridor to one of Sala’s greenhouse prison cells. There, a yearling female cow had been prepared. Peter verified that it was already unconscious. It was unresponsive but still awake as he recognized the signs of Pupadominus venom.

Near the hindquarters of the yearling was a tray containing his usual implantation tools. These consisted of a jar of the plant’s own lubricating slime along with the spreading mechanism. Peter wasted no time and knelt behind the yearling, slathering on a good dollop of slime and coating the paddles of the complicated-looking spreading tool.

He then inserted the four closed paddles of the spreader into the yearling’s vaginal canal and began cranking the orifice open. Once it was wide enough, he pushed the slime deeper inside the yearling before applying the remaining lubricant to the seed, trying to avoid the sharp teeth while he did so.

Peter then grabbed the seed by its roots and forcefully shoved the melon-sized seedling teeth first deep inside the heifer, pushing it fully inside until its mouth was seated against the animal’s cervix. The extra depth of the cow’s reproductive sheath and the fact that the yearling would never stand again to dislodge the seed simplified the procedure greatly as it meant that he did not have to place it fully inside the animal’s uterus.

Thankfully, the poor sacrificial creature did not react to the brutal procedure. Peter knew that heavy doses of plant venom had scrambled the yearling’s higher brain functions so much that it would never again move from where it currently lay. Instead, its hindquarters would simply be buried under a mound of compost which was already waiting in large tubs in the room.

He’d done this implantation procedure many times over the past decade when the Mohennial had taken delivery of replacement seeds. Her Pupadominus plants never seemed to last more than a year or two which he attributed to her use of periodically pruning the plant’s mobility roots in order to keep it from roaming. Peter knew from his own early attempts to keep the plants using that method quickly depleted them and drastically reduced their lifespan.

For a moment, he contemplated reciprocating the trust she had displayed by revealing her knowledge of the gathering and usage of the fire crystals. Did he dare share with the powerful woman his secret of grafting the dangerous young plant to earth-based non-magical rootstock? While such a gesture might cement his relationship with the Mohennial, he would also lose one of his more-reliable buyers. He would have to think deeply about the idea.

His work with the reseeding now done, Peter washed up from a bucket of soapy water that the attendant had just brought in. Now clean, he waited for many minutes with his hand resting on the heifer’s lower pelvis. He hoped to verify that the seed was moving, or even better, beginning to feed.

Soon, he felt the rhythmic grinding sensation which must have been the seed using its teeth to successfully attach itself to its new host. Good! He would be able to report back to the Mohennial that the seed was now installed into the sacrificial cow and that it was still alive. Now all he had to do was leave with the recovered Taylor while that was still true.

The next morning, Peter woke to find himself in a large bed in one of Mohennial Sala’s guest chambers. After checking in on Taylor last night to verify that she was still alive and recovering, the Mohennial had insisted that he got some rest. He had protested as much as he dared but the forceful old woman would hear none of it. At least she promised that Taylor would not be left unattended during the night.

Based upon the late morning sunlight now streaming in through the room’s east window, Peter must have needed the rest. His day yesterday had been long and nerve-wracking and the strain of using the uncommon shielding spell had deeply drawn into his magical reserves.

For a moment, he considered immediately going to check on Taylor’s recovery. But, he realized that to do so might insult his host by doubting her promise of care. Peter knew the Mohennial would hold to her word and would certainly have informed him if there had been trouble. He rolled over and relaxed into the warm, soft pillow. In this new position, Peter was able to see his room companion kneeling on a mat beside the bed. His motion caused the robed, nubile young woman to raise her head from where she might have been dozing or meditating.

“Good morning, Lord Bentencourt,” the twentyish something woman said softly. Her voice was as emotionless as it had been last night when Peter had found her waiting in the room. When the woman had undressed him for bed, it had been made clear that she was available to join him in any way he wished. He’d been too worried and tired for any bed sport and had dismissed the woman.

As he came further awake, how she had addressed him finally sank in. She had used his full earthly surname which was virtually unknown on Kreven. For this servant to have casually used it meant that the Mohennial had done a thorough background check on him. Research that crossed the portal to include his activities on Earth.

“This one’s body is yours to use as you desire, milord,” the kneeling woman reminded him as she had last night.

Peter remained silent, just observing the woman attending him. She was beautiful but in a hard way. Straight nose with sharp cheekbones, and dark eyes set under the straight-cut bangs of shoulder-length black hair.

The servant might have been mistaken for an Asian woman on Earth but was clearly Kreven-human. As it was clear that Peter was remaining awake, the woman rose gracefully to her full five-foot- four height. Her robe was open just enough that Peter caught the swell of two nicely-sized breasts.

“This one was instructed to inform you that the mistress invites you to join her for brunch in two hours.”

Again her choice of phrasing caught his notice. Peter had never heard anyone on Kreven call a late breakfast brunch before. This was another hint that Mohennial Sala was an earth traveler like him, or maybe that she had agents who traveled to Earth often and had reported back such terminology.

“Also,” the woman said, “This one was to tell you that your companion is sleeping comfortably.”

“What is your name?” he asked.

“This one no longer has a name, milord,” she replied unemotionally. Peter saw her expressionless face tilt slightly as if she was curious about where his questions were leading.

“Then what shall I call you?” Peter asked.

“Milord may refer to this one by her title, which is currently bedroom attendant.”

“Well, Miss Bedroom,” he quipped. “I suppose I should think about getting out of bed.”

“This one can prepare the bath if milord should wish to refresh himself immediately. Also, this one was told by the mistress to inform you that this one is available to fulfill all of your bodily needs, including ensuring that your life force is fully recharged.”

“Does your mistress understand how I would do that?”

The woman nodded. “This one was instructed that you would likely require sexual gratification in order to draw life essence from this one’s existence.”

The girl continued to speak without emotion, her mental conditioning clearly the work of the Mohennial. Peter felt a moment of pity for her.

“How did you come to serve the Mohennial?” He asked, deflecting her earlier offer.

“This one does not remember her past, milord,” she replied. “This one was only informed that she had once been a criminal, and that she was now reborn. Also, this one was instructed that if questioned in such a manner, that to reply with the following: do not pester the help with fucking questions, Peter.”

Peter laughed. The girl had spoken the quote in decent imitation of Sala’s more-mature voice. He also understood that the Mohennial would expect him to act on the offer made by her servant. Again, not to do so might be taken as an offense. He also had to admit that the unplanned magic usage yesterday had taken more out of him than he liked.

“My magic requires that there be mutual pleasure for any decent transference of essence.”

“This one has been trained to enjoy the company of men, milord.”

She slipped off her robe as she spoke and stood there without shame or embarrassment. Peter was impressed at the woman’s very-toned body. This was proof that the Mohennial ensured her servants were well-fed and properly exercised. The bedroom attendant’s breasts stood proudly over a muscular abdomen and he noted that each of her nipples was pierced by a silver ring.

Below, he noted that her groin was bare and smooth. There was enough of a gap between her taut thighs that Peter caught the glint of another metal piercing in her clit. He had no doubt that the girl had been trained properly in the pleasures of the bedchamber. He pulled aside the bedcovering, exposing his morning erection. The woman took that as an invitation and unhesitatingly moved to the bed, climbed aboard, and straddled his legs. She then slowly slid forward rubbing his trapped erection through her slippery folds. As she did that, her hands began massaging his chest, her fingernails raking lightly up and down his pectorals and flanks. He felt his trapped cock growing even firmer while also becoming slick from her nether emissions.

Finally, at just the right moment of his building excitement, she slid forward far enough that his cock sprang up enough to nestle his glans into her wet opening. He threatened to pop out but she angled, squirmed, and shimmied skillfully until he felt his glans parting her lips and sinking inside. Once she had him safely socketed, she slid backward smoothly, plunging his girth into her silky depths. Peter was amazed that the emotionless woman was so wet inside. Clearly, her training was advanced enough that she could force her response, or, more hopefully, that she and her body did indeed love sex. Either way, he groaned from the unexpected sensation.

As she moved above him, Peter stared at the bedroom attendant in curiosity and amazement. Despite the lack of expression, he did catch a hint of a sparkle in her eyes as she met his gaze. Peter was reassured that she was enjoying their contact and this helped his own pleasure quickly build. He was about to reach down and attempt to help her along when she smoothly pulled off his cock and slid down between his legs.

“The transference spell, milord,” she reminded him before taking his slick cock inside her mouth. He groaned again but did as she asked, placing both hands on her slowly bobbing head and muttering the phrases to begin the magical linkage. The connection took hold with ease, far easier than it usually did with his other companions. Peter suspected that the woman’s mind had been reformed making such transfers much easier.

The woman also noted the connection and reached down to begin expertly milking his shaft with her free hand. She also applied greater suction to his glans with her mouth, swirling her tongue under the crown of his penis rapidly. In just a few seconds, Peter felt his orgasm rush into being.

“Gaah!” he grunted out as his hips thrust upwards. At the same time, he involuntarily pulled her head tighter onto his spasming cock with more force then was probably considerate. The woman simply adjusted the angle of her throat until his girthy cock slipped down her gullet.