Blood of Three: Day 1
Blood of Three
By Von Krieger
_"Aspects of change in mind and soul
Animal desire shall take control
Upon the blood of three it feasts
Beast to man and man to beast
Wherever this hammer so fell
In its shadow do not dwell
Fertile thy land and fatten thy purse
The blood of three ignite this curse
A hand to carry me once again
No longer that of mortal man"_
-Druidic inscription on the Hammer of Kerrs
Katie Carson lay atop a haystack, idly twirling a long strand of her own straw colored hair between her fingers as she looked up at the sky. It was so quiet out here on the family farm. An uncle she had never met had passed away, and as a result the property and bustling livestock business that accompanied it where now in the sole possession of her parents.
The family had been living very well off on a share of the profits from the farm, which Katie had never seen before. It was rather fragrant, but you quickly grew used to the smell. It wasn't like Katie was expected to partake in the day to day operation of the place either, no milking cows, mucking stalls, or anything of the like for her; unless she wanted to, of course.
She had taken a bit of an interest in things, and was quickly learning the proper way to do things from the laborers that worked the farm. All were of Fey blood, most looking human enough, but with a few features that weren't typically found on such people. Horns, a tail, pointed ears, sometimes fangs, claws, hooves, or even wings.
They said the land was filled with magic, and it had a special attraction for them. But the Carson family had always paid them well for their work, though most would work for room, board, and being so close to such magical land.
Perhaps the magic was why the Carson Plantation had always been the shining jewel of all the farms in the kingdom. Their grain was of superior quality, their cattle and swipe the largest and plumpest, the racehorses bred here had been champions for generations.
The Carson family prospered and thrived, and even when drought or disease struck the crops of the neighbors, none bore them any sort of ill will. For in times of need the Carsons had always opened their well stocked larders aided those in need.
While some of the other girls at the posh private school she had been to had been real bitches because of their family's wealth, Katie had always been pleasant and kind. She had never tolerated bullying, and there had been several blackened eyes because of it. Always on the cliquish princesses that thought that they had the right to do whatever they pleased because of their status.
While she hadn't been born on the farm, her father had, and while the farmhouse was something to rival the mansions and small keeps that some of the noble families had, she'd been looked down upon somewhat because her family still worked for their money.
But she also had been raised with a farm girl's sensibilities, which meant she was more than willing to settle battle face to face, rather than by pulling strings from behind the scenes.
It actually amused the faculty to no end. Many of the most stuck up students had never had a hand lain on them in anger before, and the sheer shock from being struck had put many in their place.
Katie could see why the Fey stayed here; somehow the place had a calming, relaxing effect. Taking away her worried, making her just feel happy to be alive. It was so peaceful and quiet, and there was always something that could be done if you felt a little restless.
But at the moment Katie was content to laze about and daydream. She took her hand from her hair and placed it back on the tan and white cat that had followed her around all day.
The farm's feline population seemed to take quite an interest in her. Since her arrival there had always been at least one cat, if not two in the same general area as she was, they seemed to be watching her.
She had left them alone and let them go about their business, but they had apparently decided that she was quite friendly, and many came up to twine themselves around her legs in figure eights, or hop into her lap when she sat, or nuzzle her fingers in search of pettings.
The cat's fur felt so soft, a joy to touch. She scooped up the feline and hugged it to her chest, rubbing her face in its soft bellyfur. Mmm, such soft, sweet fur; she wanted to feel more of it against her bare skin.
Wanting to fit in, she wore the simple blue canvas overalls that many of the workers wore. Considering how sweaty and dirt she usually got, she'd worn only a small, sort top to cover her breasts. The unbuttoned the overall straps and slipped her shirt off, allowing the cat to rest on her breasts and belly.
It felt so good, so very, very good. Katie moaned softly as she felt a fluttering need in her loins. She was familiar with the sensation, and also of how to quench it. She slid one hand down into the loose fitting garment, she hadn't seen much of a need to wear panties with it, and began slowly stroking herself.
She ran the other hand over the cat, who purred loudly, oblivious to what Katie was doing with her other hand. The feline lowered its head and closed its eyes, resting just below the girl's chin.
Katie was overcome with a strange urge, and her tongue slipped from between her lips, slowly tracing over the cat's fur. There was no taste, but the action felt comforting, calming, and it drove her lust higher. She began to finger herself as she licked and groomed the kitty.
-o-
Maggie had spent the afternoon helping to prepare several prized pigs for show at a local carnival. They had needed to be washed and scrubbed, looking their best for the judges, and that meant Maggie had gotten more than a little dirty with the filth that covered the pigs.
Rather than have water heated for a bath, she had simply gone down two one of the streams that flowed through the woods that were a part of the farm's land, and bathed there, in the deep, warm water.
There were hot springs in the hills where the streams formed, and the water retained much of its warmth as it reached this point; much easier to bathe in the warm water here than waste the time of the house servants, though they wouldn't see it that way. They lived to serve the land, the farm, the house, and whichever members of the Carson family dwelt within it.
Having since scrubbed and cleaned herself, Maggie had picked up her clothes and carried them along as she walked along the riverbank, naked. She admired her reflection in the water. She had been a quite stunning lass in her youth, and though she had lost her girlish figure, she thought that her plumpness actually added just a bit to her beauty.
It was a different sort of beauty, the pride of a mother. She wasn't tight in the places young men liked their women to be tight, but her body told that she had brought a beautiful baby girl into this world, and carried the marks on her belly and breasts as badges of pride.
She felt rather at home on the farm. She was of a noble family, as her husband had been raised in the city, and she had married for love, not money or status. Quite frankly, she had grown tired of the life of nobility, the political intrigue, the gossip and socializing, and most of all the obnoxious and uncomfortable clothing.
Out here she could wear what she like without comment of out of season fashion, or abhorrence that she would dress for function rather than for appearance. With so few eyes around, she could even walk around naked and free without fear that she might be gawked at.
She had taken to doing such at least once a day. Insects never seemed to bother her, nor had she seen any sort of nettle or poison ivy to make her bare skin itch if she happened to brush against it.
The last few days of her naked walks had turned Maggie's fair skins a light shade of pink, but it didn't hurt and she didn't mind it. She loved the farm, everything was so wonderful and calm and relaxing, and the smell of the animals was, at least in her mind, far less offensive to the nose than the pungent mélange that resulted in a dozen snooty noblewomen who smelled like they had bathed in vats of perfume.
Maggie made a bit of a detour as the land took a sudden dip, the stream making a pretty waterfall. The spray left the ground around the falls rather muddy. The area carved out by the water had exposed some of the soft clay that appeared in large pockets in the area. The fields were free of it, but the rest of the land saw large deposits of the gray-brown stuff.
She giggled as a mischievous thought entered her mind. She set her clothes down and stepped into the thick, sticky mud. It oozed between her toes. It felt quite good, thick, smooth, sticky, and not grainy or sandy or anything. She dropped to her knees and scooped up thick handful, rubbing it on her skin.
Laughing, she dropped onto all fours and began to roll around. She would need another bath before she returned home, but she didn't mind. It was more time spent in the wonderful outdoors.
She was caked from head to toe in the mud, and it felt glorious. It made her feel great, made her feel... well more than a little horny. Knowing there was no one around, Maggie lay in the mud, legs spread, and let her fingers do the work. She was rather familiar with satisfying her own needs. Her husband was more of an intellectual, and she found that her libido was a great deal stronger than her husband's.
Rather than being a lustful annoyance, Maggie had taken to providing her own satisfaction when her husband was greatly occupied. But doing it out in the open, covered in mud, completely naked in the woods gave her an exhibitionistic thrill that added to her pleasure.
She moaned loudly as she drew her thumb of her clit in slow circles. No way in hell was she going to give this up and head back to the city.
-o-
Donnie hefted the milk can up, tilting it and pouring it out into the clawfoot bathtub that had been present in the cleaning room of the milking barn for as long as he'd known. The tub was their primarily to allow the staff the opportunity to wash up without having to travel all the way back to the main house.
The past few days he had been thinking about it more and more, a milk bath; a nice long soak in the sweet milk the farm's prize winning cows produced in abundance. Since he'd returned, the cows had been producing more than the usual amount, more than they could sell to nearby villages, or make into product for shipping.
So there was a bit of a surplus, and the cows had to be milked anyway, less the buildup cause discomfort. At least this way someone got enjoyment from it, rather than just dumping it on the ground or something.
Donnie locked the door to prevent one of the workers from barging in on his bath. There was a pump and trough outside for small scrub jobs, and most of the fey held off on washing until their tasks were done anyway.
He stripped off his clothes and admired himself in the mirror. His body was well toned from farm work and the exercise he'd done in the city to keep himself in shape. Though from the looks of it, it had been far too long since he'd done some honest work; he looked a little soft in places, and was visibly smaller than he had been on the last visit. The cook had commented on it, and had been making him meals to help him bulk up.
He was also beginning to suspect that he had grown far too used to the seaside air of the city, the dried air here seemed to leach the moisture out of him, and he had been drinking a great deal of fluids to slake his thirst; mostly milk.
He took a dipper from the wall and scooped up some milk from the tub, bringing it to his lips and gulping it down, milk training down the sides of his mouth and down onto his chest. A second dipperful followed, and a third, and a fourth, but he was still thirsty.
And what was more, he was starting to feel a little aroused. The farm had always been home, and it had sent his blood surging the past few days. Not wanting to wait any longer, he stepped into the tub and lie down, submerging himself from head to toe.
The milk had been that left from yesterday, and in the shade of the dairy's celler, it had become pleasantly cool. The coolness seemed to seep into his skin, relaxing him to his very being.
Donnie rolled over in the large tub, taking a crawling position. Gods, he was so horny. Keeping his body up with one hand, the other wrapped around his generous member. His face hovered just over the milk, and he pursed his lips, slurping up more of it.
He closed his eyes and began to stroke. His brother had been quite the womanizer, and it was whispered that the Carson clan men put their livestock to shame. It wasn't quite so large as that, but it was close.
His moan escaped as bubbling in the thick milk. There was no way to get any sort of experience like this back in the city. So good, so relaxing, so wonderful. Donnie was most certainly not going back to the city for quite some time.
-o-
Deep in the woods, overgrown by ancient brambles, something glowed. Despite how long it had been there, the metal pole hadn't tarnished with decades, perhaps centuries, of rain. What could be seen above the brambles was as thick as a strongman's leg, and perhaps just as tall as the strongman himself.
Streams of glimmering dust swirled in the air, pouring in from three directions. The motes of light circled the crooked pole before sinking in. It was tentative at first, slow, as if the specks were shy creatures exploring a place long abandoned.
And then, unbeknownst to one another, three climaxes erupted simultaneously across the Carson land. The motes lost their shyness and flowed into the overgrown shaft with the force of a flood-fed mountain stream.
The flow lasted only as long as the pleasurable sensations themselves, short and fleeting. As each of the Carsons felt sexual satisfaction welling up inside them, the glow began to dim and then vanished entirely. As did the motes that fed it.
But it did not matter. The land knew that there were three here, and it could only be awakened with three. No more, no less. Exactly three.
What had begun could not be stopped, even if its victims had desired to escape its effects. Even if they had been aware, they would not have resisted. For they had finally come home, and home was where they would stay. Forever.