The Merciless Alpha(erotica)

It was a climb, back up into the canopy and the elven city. We rested so Tavorwen could catch her breath, then headed into the same district as my new home. A noble looking elm was our destination.

Tavorwen knocked lightly on the door. An exceedingly pregnant matron answered the door.

“Master Driveal is awaiting your arrival with great anticipation.” The matron greeted us, placing a hand on the small of her back, clearly bearing the weight of the child she was growing with some difficulty.

I had a hard time not staring. I’d thought the retired matrons had large breasts, this matron’s breasts were enormous and engorged, preparing to do the job they had been created for. Her hips and ass looked amazing, her body preparing to give birth had her hips shifted wider, giving her an amazing pop to her hips.

“Sanmthathir! You should be resting! Sit down.” Another matron came over and ushered the very pregnant Samnthathir to a chair. “Tavorwen, I’ll take over your charge. I understand you have business to attend to.”

Tavorwen nodded, “I entrust him to your care.”

I swallowed. This new matron had the breasts I had expected of a matron who had borne children. The sexy flare of her hips made my cock stir, but she wasn’t mine. I’d be good and keep my hands to myself.Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

She led me through the house to what appeared to be a study.

Inside, sat the first male elf I’d laid eyes on. He was thin, wiry, but almost wane, or anemic looking. His long ears swept out from his head nobly. His shoulders, while broader than the females’, were not nearly so broad as most of the men I’d known back home. He remained sitting with a cane resting against his cushioned wooden chair. He wore a simple, light green robe, belted at his waist. What I could see of his chest, while not particularly muscular, lacked enough fat to show anything else. His feet bore nothing but a pair of fur stuffed leather slippers.

His piercing green eyes took me in. I could see interest, a curiosity that burned bright despite his clear frailty. He had in his hands a leather bound book, which he set aside on the small table beside his chair.

“Welcome, hero.” Driveal greeted me in a light tenor voice. “I’ve been excited to meet you. You’ll have to forgive me, my duty requires my exertion and I’m recovering from performing said duty this morning. But you aren’t here to hear me moan of my woes.” He rose shakily to his feet with the aid of his cane. “Come, come with me to the sitting room. We have much to discuss.”

I had learned enough of elves to know if I moved to aid him, it would wound his pride. Instead I opened the door wide and stood clear from his path.

The elf stood tall, still several inches shorter than me, and walked out of his study. I followed his lead to a sitting room that looked to be just off of the kitchen.

A matron with a tiny elven child in a sling across her chest, fussed over the master. “May I get you all something to eat and drink?”

“Yes, please.” I accepted.

“Indeed. I’m famished, Narivna. A nice round of Philia would be wonderful.” The master bid.

The child was adorable, cooing on her mother’s chest. She was tiny. I couldn’t see much of the tiny elf, but just like human babes her ears we comically large know her tiny body. The only saving grace for the tiny she-elf was that her ears naturally followed the curve of her head.

Narivna walked into the kitchen and the master smiled at me. “I see your eyes are kind to my matrons.”

I cringed.

The elf laughed, a solid belly laugh, “Oh, I don’t blame you. I picked my matrons for a reason. I don’t mind your eyes agreeing with mine, but keep your hands from my matrons.”

I chuckled awkwardly.

The elf lightly slapped his forehead, “Where are my manners!? I haven’t even properly introduced myself. Allow me to correct this grave breach of etiquette.”

He sat as tall as he could, “I am Driveal Starborn, Master of the Silver Elm house, Diviner and Conjurer.”

I smiled. I’d caught his name from one of the matrons earlier, but it was nice to hear it from him. “I am Thomas Nord. Before being summoned I was a sniper and unit commander in the special forces of my home nation.”

Driveal sat forward eagerly, questions in his eyes, then he stopped himself, “Forgive me, my curiosity gets the better of me sometimes. We are not here for me to pester you with questions about your homeland.”

I smiled awkwardly, “Why am I here?”

Driveal was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing. “How much have you been told?”

I sighed, “Honestly, not much. I was told I would be receiving my weapons from the smiths, then I was informed I was to do a weapons demonstration, and then I was told I had a lunch ‘social engagement’… and I have no idea where I’m going from here.”

Driveal smiled, “Well, Thomas, I was asked to help guide you before you were taken to a selection of maidens to choose from for your first matrons. As I understand, they want to start you with more than the traditional two.”

I gaped, and he laughed again. “She-elves… they do have a tendency to believe you’ll read their minds.”

I collected myself, “I see some things are universal, regardless of species.”

Driveal was thoroughly amused. “So then, I’m sure you can understand why I’m glad you find our females attractive. It would be far more difficult for you to select maidens to make into matrons if you did not find our maidens appealing.”

I sat back. “Well, events are progressing quickly.”

Driveal spread his hands, “When the Gods give you a gift, it is generally best no to squander it. Now, have you any questions about the process or how selection will go?”

I rubbed my neck, “Um, yes. Do I know what they all are? No. I haven’t the foggiest how it will go.”

Driveal nodded, “I’m not surprised… before we go on though, do you mind if I ask a somewhat personal question?”

I shrugged, “I’m getting used to those.”

Driveal shook his head in sympathy, “Forgive me, but the way the messenger explained the decision to start you with a larger group of matrons was something about your increased capacity for…” He fished for a polite way to say it.

“Making love to females?” I suggested.

“A fine expression for it.” Driveal agreed. “Is it true you are capable of making love multiple times a day, without even taxing your stamina?”

I chuckled, “Well, I’ve only actually made love as often as my body is capable of once, and I was tired, but not exhausted, per se.”

That had been a good weekend. There had been a couple of girls on spring break near our base when I’d been stationed near Miami. Jacob had just gotten married and was doing his best to impregnate his wife, and I’d found a couple of hot bikini babes who thought a man in uniform was sexy and decided to go three-way. I’d found then in the morning and by the following morning they were arguing over whose pussy was more sore. I’d stretched and done six loads (evenly split between the horny girls) the first day, then woken up to one of them sucking me off to get in another round. I’d done her hard enough we fell back asleep and something like a half-hour later the other girl had gotten the same idea. It had been wild.

Driveal sat back amazed, “The male elven physiology makes that impossible. One a day is considered outstanding performance. Once every other day is expected.”

He shook his head, “I do understand the desire to fulfill the desires of as many maidens as possible and wasting such potential would be borderline blasphemy. But anyways, you are doubtless anxious to know how you will be presented with maidens and how the process will go. Am I wrong?”

I shook my head, “You most certainly are not. Please, enlighten me.”

He grinned, “Well, as you may have noticed, there is not a wide variety of the fashion worms daily by the elves about their business. It was not always so, but current circumstances have forced more subdued efforts toward art and fashion than have existed in ages past. The one exception that has been maintained is for maidens presenting themselves for matron selection.”

I drew in a breath in relief. I’d been worried about that. As with many people among a new race and culture, despite my best efforts, most of the elven females looked the same to me. The unremarkable, almost uniforms worn by the elves didn’t help. It had appeared there were soldiers, mages, and craftspeople, and just as much variety in apparel. A wider display of fashion might help me make my choice.

“Each she-elf desiring to be selected as a matron maintains a set maidenly apparel to present herself for consideration. These ensembles are designed by the women to tell as much about them as possible and to show why they might appeal as a potential matron.” Driveal explained, “Their attire is one of two major tools that maidens use to prove their appeal as a potential matron.”

I nodded. That made sense. Even back on earth, women using clothing to display sex appeal and show of their personality isn’t uncommon.

“The second tool that maidens use is direct interactions with their potential master, and their current matrons, to show that they work together well.” Driveal explained, “Unfortunately for the maidens, that tool is not really available in this round of Matron selection.”

I let out a deep breath, “So, basically, there will be a bunch of she-elves, whose only method of showing their appeal is their clothing, and I am going to be choosing some to… make a harem of matrons?”

Driveal cocked his head to the side, “What is a ‘harem’?”

I was deep in thought, “A bunch of females sharing a male.”

Driveal seemed surprised by the term, “Isn’t that always how it goes?”

I shook my head, “Back on my world, it was usually monogamous. One male and one female, exclusively making love with each other and rearing their children together. Since there are approximately the same number of males and females it works.”

Driveal smiled, “That would be nice, but that is not how it works here. You’ll understand when you see how many maidens are gathering in hopes of being selected. My matrons tell me that the number of maidens you’ll have to choose from is even higher than most elven males get.”

I was taken aback, “Why is that?”

Driveal rested his chin on his hands, “Simple. The odds of being selected.”

I waited for further explanation, and Narivna walked back in and provided both me and Driveal with a plate with some sort of fowl, reminding me of quail, well seasoned and served with a tangy sauce, and cracker-like pieces. The flavors blended well and I found it quiet filling, so by the time the plate was gone I was content. To drink, she brought us what appeared to be pomegranate juice mixed with something tasting like apple juice, but not quite that.