The drums never stopped beating.
By the time Alex stepped out of the longhouse, the whole village had gathered around the massive central bonfire. Men, women, old and young formed a huge circle on the packed-earth ground. Torches flickered. Eyes reflected the flames like hungry animals.
In the middle, Mara had spread thick white furs in a wide circle. She stood naked and glorious, red hair loose down her back, heavy breasts proud breasts gleaming with sweat, wide hips rolling slow as she walked. Her glowing golden belly caught the firelight and threw it back like a beacon.
She raised one hand and the drums fell silent.
"Tonight," Mara called, voice carrying over every head, "the hero gives us tomorrow. Tonight I show every daughter, every wife, every widow exactly how he must be taken, how he must be worshipped, how he must be milked dry so our wombs finally live again."
A low murmur rippled through the crowd. Women pressed thighs together. Men looked at the ground, ashamed and grateful at once.
Mara turned to Alex and crooked a finger.
"Come, hero. The whole tribe is watching. Let them see what a real cock looks like when it owns a woman."
Alex walked forward, robe already gone, cock jutting hard and proud. The circle of faces followed every step. He stopped in front of Mara. She towered over most women, thick and strong, and still had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.
She smiled, slow and wicked.
"On your back, hero. Tonight I ride."
Alex dropped to the furs. Mara straddled his hips, knees sinking deep into the white pelts. She didn't touch his cock yet. Instead she leaned forward, breasts hanging heavy over his face.
"Open," she ordered.
He opened his mouth. She fed him one fat nipple, letting milk trickle onto his tongue while she rolled her soaked pussy along his shaft, coating him, teasing him, never letting the whole village see how wet she already was.
Soft gasps rose from the crowd.
Mara sat up, grabbed his cock with one rough hand, and lined him up. She sank down slow, inch by thick inch, eyes locked on his the entire time.
The moment he bottomed out she let out a long, satisfied growl that every woman in the circle felt between her legs.
Then she started to move.
Not bouncing. Riding. Powerful, rolling waves of her hips, ass clapping soft against his thighs, pussy dragging up his length and slamming back down. Every downward stroke made her huge tits bounce and milk spray in thin arcs that caught the firelight.
She set a brutal, perfect rhythm, slow enough that everyone could see his cock disappear inside her over and over, fast enough that wet sounds echoed across the whole village.
"Watch," she commanded the crowd, never looking away from Alex. "This is how you take the hero's gift. You squeeze on the way up… like this…" Her walls clamped hard; Alex groaned loud.
"You grind when he's deep… like this…" She rolled her hips in a filthy circle, clit rubbing his base, milking him with her whole body.
"You never let him come too soon. You edge him. You own him. You make him beg to fill you."
Minutes stretched into an eternity of wet slaps, milk dripping, Mara's red hair sticking to sweat-slick skin. She changed angles again and again, reverse cowgirl so the whole village saw his cock stretch her wide, sideways so her ass rippled for the men who would never touch her again, facing him again so every woman could study how her belly glowed brighter with every deep thrust.
Alex's hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, but she controlled everything. She leaned down, breasts smothering his face, and whispered against his ear, loud enough for the front row to hear.
"Hold it, hero. Not yet. They need to see how long a real man lasts."
Sweat poured off both of them. The bonfire roared higher as if feeding on their heat.
Mara rose up until only his head stayed inside, then slammed down so hard the furs bounced. Again. Again. Again.
Women in the crowd were openly touching themselves now. Some cried. Some moaned in time with Mara's rhythm.
Only when her thighs started shaking, only when her voice cracked on every breath, did she finally let herself go.
"Now, hero. Give them the future. Give me everything."
Alex roared, hips bucking up, and erupted inside her. Thick, endless pulses flooded her womb. Mara threw her head back and screamed to the stars, whole body convulsing, pussy milking him in hard, greedy spasms. Her belly flared blinding gold, brighter than the bonfire itself.
She stayed impaled long after he finished, rolling her hips in tiny circles, draining every last drop. Then, slow and regal, she rose up. His cum poured out of her in a thick white river, splattering the white furs, running down her thighs in shining streams.
Mara turned to the silent, stunned crowd.
"This," she said, voice hoarse but strong, "is how the hero will take each and every one of you. Not tonight. Tonight was the lesson. But soon. One by one. Or ten at a time. He will fill every womb in this village until no woman walks empty again."
She looked down at Alex, still hard, still ready.
"Rest tonight, hero. Tomorrow we start the real work."
The drums exploded back to life. Women screamed, laughed, cried. Men fell to their knees.
Mara dropped to her knees beside him, breasts pressed to his chest, and kissed him deep and slow.
"Thank you," she whispered against his lips. "Now they believe."
Behind her, Asha and Kira crawled forward, eyes wide, already touching themselves again.
The bonfire burned all night. And Thornvale would never be the same.