Morena and the Matriarch Ch. 01

*** A Futuristic Adventure – with some Gratuitous Sex and Violence, of course ***

Note: voting and comments aren't mandatory, but they are very, very useful in letting me know how I'm doing and how I can improve. Thanks...

Chapter 1

A Rancher, a Procurer and The Matriarch – Post-apocalyptic Problems

Morena had a problem. Production was falling off. And if she didn't deliver some very high quality product within the next couple of weeks, she'd lose her contract with the Matriarch and pretty much be back in the gutters she'd worked so hard to climb out of.

And it wasn't that she didn't have good stock. Hers were some of the finest culled from the Uplands, far from the corruption and debauchery of the Cities, which tainted and ruined most of the available breeding stock.

The devastation had been widespread, and the only purebreds to be found these days had to be rounded up and brought down from the Hills.

So when her carefully constructed stable of breeders began to falter, and the production rate and volume of viable semen began to fall off, she was understandably worried.

But what to do about it? She made her rounds every morning, checking her stock, but couldn't find any one cause. She had thought diet might be part of it, so she'd brought in consultants to design the best course of nutrition-based feed. She had thought a lack of sufficiently stimulating females might be the problem, that her studs might not be adequately motivated. So she'd acquired the best she could buy. She thought maybe there was some environmental factor having an effect on the studs' hormonal balance, so she'd brought in medical specialists to try and get it sorted. And nothing had worked.

Now she just didn't know what to do.

She sat brooding, finishing her morning coffee before doing her rounds, when there was a polite knock at the door to her suite.

"Enter!" she called, wondering what trivial problem would demand her attention this early in the morning.

An older woman in a staff uniform opened the door and stepped in, followed by a young girl, barely out of her teens if that, dressed in hunters' camo.

"Alyssa from Vern's Dale to see you, Mum," the older woman announced.

Morena didn't bother to rise. Motioning to the girl to come forward, she said "thank you, Deidre. You may go." The older woman retired as the girl approached.

"Please, have a seat," Morena gestured to the table. "Can I get you some coffee?"

"A small cup would be appreciated, Mistress," the girl answered quietly, moving to a chair and sitting.

Morena poured half a mug and handed it over, looking at the girl as she did so.

"You're an Uplander," she said. "Vern's Dale is on the Skirts, but you've an air about you that says the Wilds."

"Yes, ma'am," the girl replied. "Born in the Dale, raised there and in the Wilds. Spent a lot of time wandering the Wilds. Moved back to the Dale about three years ago. Wanted to be closer to the supply chain."

"So what do you do?" Morena asked.

"I'm a Procurer, ma'am," Alyssa told her. "Have been since I was eleven. One of the best. Word traveled that you needed help. I'm here for the job."

"So you've been at it a couple of years, then," Morena commented, still looking at the girl. She was definitely young, but had that weathered look that trouble and the outdoors brought on. Not unattractive, actually. Medium height and build – a little tough to judge under the camo – athletic, blonde hair pulled back in a bun, piercing grey eyes, thin lips that didn't smile much. Definitely seen her share of shit, Morena decided.

"I assure you, ma'am, I'm significantly older than thirteen," the girl answered in a level tone. "I can find the stock you need and bring 'em in. Intact. And healthy. I can guarantee each one to be productive and I'd wager they'll encourage your existing stable to increase their productivity."

"So what do you want for them?" Morena asked.

"How many do you need?" Alyssa asked in return.

"At least a half dozen, preferably more, if they're purebred and productive. Males only. I don't need any females. Or maybe one or two females, if they're good at stimulating the studs."

"Then I'd want a thousand a head for the males and five hundred for the females. And you don't need to pay me an advance. Full payment on delivery is good enough," Alyssa told her.

"That's pretty steep," Morena told her refilling her coffee. "More?" she asked Alyssa.

"I'm fine, thanks," Alyssa responded, again in that no-nonsense business voice. "My prices are steep because I deliver the best. If any studs I bring to you don't measure up to your standards, you don't pay me for 'em and they go with me when I leave. Same for the females."

The girl then sat quietly, regarding Morena in turn.

The Rancher before her was middle aged, with a cultured beauty that said she put a lot of time into her image. By reputation, she was one of the best, and had a standing contract with the Matriarch to furnish semen suitable for breeding noble lines. Thoroughbred breeding – the use of natural live cover – wasn't used any more. Too many problems since the war. But genetic pedigree was of paramount importance, and the Ranchers who could deliver made big money.

Looking around Morena's estate confirmed it.

"That seems fair," Morena decided. "Do I get to run DNA tests before I pay you?"

"You can run any tests you want," Alyssa told her. "You can even milk one to check the product, if you want. Or I'll do it. Totally up to you. You just have to keep up your end of the bargain."

"Is there anything else?" Morena asked. "Any form of advance payment, perhaps?"

"If you could see your way clear, ma'am," Alyssa told her, "I could use a horse. Lost my last one to the wolves. Solid working stock, if you can. Not one of the sissy light riding horses the city folk prance around on. Somewhere between a Steppe Pony and a War Horse, if you get my meaning."

"How about I advance you five hundred, and you buy the horse and whatever tack you need?" Morena asked. "Saves me the hassle and you get what you want."

"If you could make it six hundred, I'd say that was a solid deal," Alyssa told her. "Non-refundable, though. It can come off the first stud I bring you. But if you don't take any, I keep the horse and gear for my troubles."

"Deal," Morena said, rising and extending her hand.

"Deal, ma'am," Alyssa responded, also rising and shaking Morena's hand. "Expect me in three weeks."

"Could you make it two?" Morena asked. "I have a contract due and I'd rather not have to ask for an extension."

"I will do my best, ma'am," Alyssa told her. "With your permission?"

"Alyssa, was it? Yes, Alyssa, you may go. Deidre outside will get your money for you and show you out. Give her this." And she scribbled a note on some parchment and handed it to Alyssa.

The girl took one more look at the infamous Matron, nodded, and left.

Morena sat back down and poured one more cup of coffee. Some days, three was the right number to start with.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was still mid-morning when she entered the Proofing Room with Stella, her right-hand-woman and the one she trusted to manage her stable. Rodriguez, the lead stable hand, had all the studs to be checked chained along one wall. There were about twenty this morning. Generally speaking, a neck collar was the only restraint necessary, with enough chain so the studs could move around but not make a break for the door or get into anything hurtful. In this case, though, Rodriguez had taken more precautions.

Morena walked up to the first one and said, "okay... let's see what we've got."

She reached out and grabbed the stud's cock in her hand and began massaging it. He gave out a low moan and sagged against the chains holding his wrists to the overhead piping. He soon began responding and rapidly grew erect. He was thick and long, with pendulous balls, and it didn't take long before his groans indicated his imminent orgasm.

Stella stepped forward with a specimen cup and Morena aimed the stud's hefty manhood into it, continuing her stroking until with a loud moan, he erupted into it. Twelve healthy spurts before he fell off, Morena noticed. Almost 10cc, twice the normal maximum yield. This was why she was selective in her choice of stock.

Morena glanced at the stud's collar and told Stella, "1-9-7" as she handed her the specimen cup. Then she moved to the next one while Stella capped and labeled the cup, handing it to Rodriguez to put in a rack. The next stud was similarly built and had very similar reactions to being handled by Morena. It didn't take her long to make him fill another cup, and to pass it off to Stella for processing, before moving on to the next.

The next one was a skinny little runt with an obscenely long cock when flaccid and low hanging balls. Actually, he reminded Morena of a weasel. But Morena wasn't interested in the stud's looks. She was interested in the quality and quantity of sperm-bearing semen that was still fertile and unpolluted. And this pitiful excuse of a man qualified. He'd been brought in with a roundup about four years ago when he was still a kid. But when his test results came in, he made it to the A-string in one.

The only problem was, no matter what Morena or Stella did, he just plain didn't respond. And it wasn't for lack of trying.

"Rodriguez," Morena stated as she stepped forward with the cup from Stella.

The stable hand moved forward without question. He'd been down this road before... the operative word being "down". He squatted in front of the skinny stud, took his flaccid cock in his hand, then stuffed it in his mouth and sucked. Hard.

The response was instantaneous. A foot-long hard on, a glazed look and a loud moan, followed by Morena holding the cup out and Rodriguez bobbing up and down on the guy's sausage until he exploded. Rodriguez quickly pointed the spurting cock into the cup and kept pumping the little weasel until he was drained.

Morena handed the cup to Stella and moved to the next one, while Rodriguez wiped some of the skinny guy's cum off his face, where he hadn't moved fast enough.

The next few were repeats of the first ones, with Morena manually stimulating her donors and collecting the semen for later analysis. Eventually, she ran into another problem. Her stud wouldn't cum.

"Do you understand what happens if you don't ejaculate for me?" she asked the stud – a six-foot, nicely toned variety of Uplander with less than average equipment.

"Yes'm," he mumbled, trying not to look at her.

Morena looked closely at him for several moments.

"I'm not sure you do," she finally stated. "Rodriguez?"

"Yes, Mistress," Rodriguez responded.

"The bar, please," Morena stated, then waited as Rodriguez retrieved a three foot long piece of 3" pipe with a chain through it, which he then proceeded to hook to the ceiling so it dangled about waist height.

Stella and Rodriguez then moved over to the recalcitrant stud, unhooking him from the wall and walking him over to the bar, where he was bent over it and Rodriguez shackled his wrists to his ankles. Then he hoisted the bar until it was firmly against the stud's belly, but not enough to take him off his feet. He added a couple of heavy weights to the ankle cuffs, to make sure he stayed put.

Satisfied the stud wasn't going anywhere, he turned to Morena and announced "Ready, ma'am."

Morena and Stella walked over behind the bent-over and helpless piece of livestock. "0-8-7," Stella told Morena, then jotted a note in her ubiquitous book before handing Morena a jar of petroleum jelly. Morena dabbed some on the index and middle fingers of her right hand, then began slathering some on the stud's anus. He began to engorge almost immediately. Stella reached out and encircled his testicles as if milking a teat, pulling down slowly and steadily.

"Zero-Eighty-Seven, you seem to be having trouble performing," Morena observed. "Unless you start producing some high quality cum, I'll have to turn you over to Pasture, to recoup my losses."

A very exposed Zero-Eighty-Seven mumbled "yes'm", but otherwise remained passive.

"Hmmm," Morena intoned, thinking. Then she inserted her first two fingers into his ass, probing for the prostate. A loud groan told her she'd found it. It didn't seem as large to her palpations as she remembered. Maybe there was something physically wrong with this one. She kept milking his prostate anally, but could only get a little bit of dribble, which did not bode well.

"Rodriguez," she finally said when the frustration finally got to her.

"Yes, ma'am," he responded, then walked over behind Zero-Eighty-Seven, dropped his loincloth, massaged himself to erection and stuck well endowed cock completely up the stud's ass.

That got a reaction.

"Hnnpphh!," the stud grunted as he was filled up, and then kept moaning and groaning as Rodriguez began pumping away. Eventually, his moaning became more and more animalistic, and Stella moved to stroking his cock while aiming it into the specimen cup. When Zero-Eighty-Seven finally did cum, with a long, low groan, he managed about five or six strong squirts and a disappointing 5ml.

"There better be some incredibly potent sperm here," Morena told Stella as she capped the bottle, "or I'm gonna have to let him go."

"He won't last a week, if Pasture sells him to the Amazons," Stella commented. "Rumor has it, when a male can't fuck anymore, they cook and eat him. Or parts of him, anyway."

"Don't believe everything you hear, girl," Morena admonished her protégé. "But in this case, you may be right. Let's get the rest of the samples and get them into the lab. I'm hoping against long odds that there's enough quality cum here to meet my contract."

"Good luck with that," Stella told her grimly, "based on the results of the last five months."

"I know, I know," Morena agreed. "And then there's that Procurer, Alyssa. Maybe she'll work a miracle. I could use one right about now."

* * * * * * * * * *

Alyssa looked out over the small valley from her blind in the pines. Two weeks to deliver six untainted males of breeding age. And a couple of females as incentives. That was going to be tough.

Not impossible, she reminded herself. Just tough.

And they didn't have to be men, per se. Adolescent males would work just as well and were a lot easier to lead around by their gonads. A fact she'd used several times to her advantage.

This was her favorite hunting area, between the snowline and Mirror Lake, near the outflow. The tribes would fish the area, and hunt the beaver and muskrat that lived nearby, as well as the deer and foxes. In berry season, there was a bounty for the picking. All in all, hard to stay away from, even in the face of ghost stories portraying it as haunted and where strange disappearances occurred.

A number of those strange disappearances could be attributed to me, she smiled to herself. She had a base camp nearby, a natural cave she'd discovered and then expanded to suit her needs. The entrance was narrow, but big enough to push a man through, and inside she now had a holding area that could handle up to half a dozen humans. When she had her quota, she'd just connect them with collars and cock stringers and lead 'em down the mountain.

She'd only run into problems twice, which taught her not to use the main trails, but to follow one she'd blazed herself through the back washes and tree lines. But that was after she had as many as she could safely take to her house back in Vern's Dale. She had a proper holding pen there, and her sister to watch over the catch while she was out hunting. Dosay was a little twisted after the gang rape, but she enjoyed tying up the males and fucking their brains out. She just had to remind Dosay not to damage the merchandise.

Now she was hoping the hunting party she'd spotted earlier would come down into the valley. She might be able to tempt one of the younger men.

She watched the far tree line carefully, through the battered old field glasses she'd picked up years back, her signaling mirror dangling from her wrist. She knew the hunters would be wary and taking precautions. She smiled when she finally spotted them... and it was only the two younger ones she'd been eyeing before. They cautiously and steadily made their way out from the trees, angling towards the beaver dam and the outflow. She saw one kneel down to fill canteens while the other kept watch. This was her opportunity.

She leaned out from the tree and used the mirror to flash the two young men. She only wanted to get them curious about the trees, not be too overt. And apparently it worked. The one on watch caught the flash of light and peered in her direction, saying something to his buddy. They both kept watch now, while pretending not to... someone had taught them well. Another flash of light should get them coming towards her to investigate, she decided, and did it again. And she was right.

They crossed the stream and headed towards her position, but again, cautiously. These two weren't going to run into a trap.

Time for some more enticement, she thought as she shimmied out of her Ghillie suit and eased out from behind the tree, buck naked. She intentionally let the sunlight fall full on her for several seconds, waiting for a reaction from the males, before retreating back under the trees.

Okay, definitely interested now, she thought as she slipped back into her camouflage and dropped a red perfumed scarf approximately where she had been standing... and incidentally, right where one of several snares she'd set was located. Then she moved off a dozen yards to the spot where she'd tethered the releases for the snares.

The two Wildermen approached cautiously, bows out and arrows nocked, flanking the position where they'd seen the flash. They were good, Alyssa conceded, backing each other up, always looking around, listening, preventing any real surprise. But she was counting on a different kind of surprise. They had to be young... late teens, maybe early twenties... "beardless youth" as she'd once heard them described. Old enough to be men of the tribe, but young enough to be single bucks.

The one in the lead – probably the older, she thought – spotted the scarf and slowly approached the spot, not looking at it but rather looking around for the trap. Paranoid, Alyssa thought. Good.

Motioning to his companion to be vigilant, he knelt and carefully lifted the scarf, examining it closely and even sniffing at it slightly before rising and looking around again. He was exactly where Alyssa wanted him, but his companion was outside and in front of the loop closest to him. She decided to take the opportunity – Chance might favor her. She pulled on the cord releasing the first snare.

The loop snapped tight around the first male's feet and the plummeting counterweight lifted him off them, pulling him well up off the ground. His startled companion stepped back away from his trapped friend and right into the snare Alyssa was hoping he'd step into. She pulled the cord on the second snare and it in turn snatched the second man off his feet, suspending him well above the forest floor. She stepped out of hiding in her Ghillie suit, aiming her crossbow at them as she did and wagging her finger in a "no, no, no..." gesture at the men trying to reach their knives to free themselves.

She walked up to the first one, whose head was about the same height as hers though he was upside down, and began stripping him of his weapons, casting them to the side, so they would be out of their reach after they'd been let back down to the ground. Then, still without speaking, she went to the second one and disarmed him. Producing cord, she trussed up the men's wrists and ankles while leaving them suspended. The initial stream of profanities which had gushed from the men fell off as they began to understand their predicament. Alyssa finished binding the men, then stepped back to look at her catch.