I rode the mare hard, mud flying from her hooves, the baron's words still echoing in my ears. The longhouse came into view just as flames began licking at the thatch. Garrick and four of the miller's remaining thugs circled the yard like wolves—torches in hand, blades drawn. Mira stood in the doorway gripping a scythe, face pale but defiant. Lila had an arrow nocked, Nora beside her with a pitchfork. And Mother—Elara Thornwood—stood at the front like a goddess of war, full breasts heaving beneath a soot-streaked shift, powerful thighs braced, a burning brand held high as she shouted defiance.
"Get away from my family!" she roared.
I didn't slow. I slammed into the nearest thug from horseback, boot catching him square in the chest and hurling him into the mud. The mare reared; I slid off and hit the ground running. Garrick turned, face twisted with drunken hate.
"You—!"
My fist cut him off. The fight was brutal, fast, and completely one-sided. These men had come expecting the women to break. They hadn't counted on Thornwood blood. Lila's arrow buried itself in one thug's shoulder. Mother swung her brand like a club, catching another across the face. I dropped the last two with cold efficiency—elbow to throat, knee to ribs, boot to the temple. Garrick tried to flee. I tackled him, pinning him face-down in the mud with a knee between his shoulder blades until he stopped struggling.
Villagers poured in—Hob, Widow Tanner, the weaver's family. They saw the smoldering thatch, the defeated men, and the women still standing strong. Buckets of water quickly doused the flames.
"Take him," I told the crowd, voice carrying. "Garrick Blackthorn attacked a protected holding. The baron already knows. Chain him for the reeve. He's finished."
They dragged him away, broken and cursing. The miller's men were bound and marched off. Status was no longer a whisper—it was iron. The Thornwood name now meant safety. It meant power.
I barred the door behind us.
Inside, the longhouse smelled of smoke and raw adrenaline. Water still dripped from the roof beams. Mira dropped the scythe and collapsed against me, her lush body trembling as her full breasts pressed soft and warm to my chest. "You came back," she whispered. "My savior… always."
Mother stood a pace away, green eyes wild, chest rising rapidly. The shift clung to her like wet silk—nipples dark and stiff, the deep valley between her heavy breasts glistening with sweat. Her powerful thighs were streaked with soot and mud.
"You left us," she said, voice cracking between command and desperate need. "And they came. I almost lost everything while you were gone."
Jealousy and relief warred in her eyes. She had heard Mira's moans night after night. She had felt my fingers buried deep inside her in the tub. The danger had shattered what remained of her walls.
I pulled her in. She came willingly—hard at first, still the dominating widow—then softer, melting as my mouth claimed hers. Mira pressed in from the side, kissing my neck, her hands sliding under my tunic. Four full breasts pillowed against me, soft and overwhelming. I groaned into Mother's mouth as Mira's fingers found my laces and freed my cock, already rock-hard and leaking for them both.
"Together," I rasped. "Both of you. Now."
We moved to my pallet, clothes falling away. Mother's shift came off last. Thirty-nine years of strength and beauty laid bare: massive breasts with thick, dark nipples begging for attention, wide hips, and a powerful ass that jiggled with every movement. Mira knelt beside her, thirty-six and equally ripe—breasts heavy from nursing, ass round and plush, pussy already dripping down her thighs.
They pushed me onto my back. Mother looked at Mira, then at me. The last trace of hesitation shattered.
"Watch how a real woman pleases her man," she told her sister-in-law, voice husky. Then both of them lowered their heads.
The sensation was overwhelming. Mother took me deep first—experienced and confident—her throat relaxing as she swallowed half my length in one smooth glide, tongue swirling along the underside. Mira licked the base and my balls, soft and worshipful, sucking one into her warm mouth while her heavy breasts dragged across my thigh. They took turns—Mother sucking hard and fast, Mira slow and adoring—then worked together, tongues sliding along my shaft from opposite sides, lips meeting in a messy, spit-slick kiss around the head. Saliva dripped down my balls as their breasts pressed together around me, soft flesh enveloping my cock while they licked, sucked, and moaned.
"Fuck… both of you," I groaned, fingers tangled in their hair. "So good… my strong, beautiful MILFs."
Mother pulled off with a wet pop, eyes glassy with need. "I need you inside me, Elias. I've waited nineteen years. Take your mother."
She straddled me reverse, thick ass facing me, and sank down. Her pussy was molten velvet—tight, dripping, clenching greedily as she took every inch. "Gods… so deep… filling your mother's cunt…" She rode me hard, ass rippling with every slam, heavy breasts bouncing wildly. Mira climbed over my face, lowering her soaked pussy to my mouth. I licked her deeply, tongue thrusting inside her as she ground down, moaning and reaching around to squeeze Mother's breasts, pinching her nipples and making Elara cry out louder.
The room filled with wet slaps, gasps, and raw, filthy sounds.
Mira came first on my tongue, thighs shaking as she flooded my mouth with sweet, musky nectar. "Savior… Elias… yes—!"
Mother followed moments later, her pussy spasming violently around my cock, milking me as she screamed my name. I flipped them both—Mother on her back with legs spread wide, Mira beside her. I fucked Mother deep and slow, savoring every thrust while Mira kissed her, their tongues tangling. Then I pulled out and slid into Mira's welcoming heat, alternating between them—stroke for stroke, pussy to pussy—while they kissed and fondled each other's breasts.
I couldn't hold back any longer. The sight of two experienced, voluptuous MILFs finally surrendering to me was too much. I buried myself to the hilt inside Mother one last time and came hard, flooding her womb with thick, hot ropes. Mira reached down and rubbed her clit, triggering her own orgasm as my cum leaked out around my cock.
We collapsed in a tangled heap of sweat-slick limbs and heaving breasts. Mother pulled me down for a slow, tender kiss—completely submissive now, all command gone. "I'm yours," she whispered against my lips. "Completely. No more fighting it."
Mira curled against my other side, kissing my chest. "Both of us. Safe. Loved. Claimed."
Outside, the village celebrated another Thornwood victory. Inside, the longhouse smelled of sex, smoke, and new beginnings. The cousins had watched from the loft shadows—eyes wide, bodies flushed—but they remained silent. Their time would come.
Garrick was broken. The baron's favor was secured. The external threats had gone quiet for now.
But the real claim—the one I had dreamed of since the moment I transmigrated into this body—was finally complete.
And it felt better than any power or land ever could.
**End of Chapter 14**