The third night was the same.
The fourth night, they did not camp. They drove through the darkness. The old man whipped the horses. The capital was close. The lights of the city were visible on the horizon. A golden glow against the night sky.
The women slept in the carriage. Their bodies were wrecked. Their holes were sore. Their nipples were raw. The wooden dildos Raven had fashioned were plunged into their asses. He had carved them with his magic. Smooth. Long. Thick. They were plugged in. All three of them. The pregnant woman. Vess. Juhi. Their panties held the dildos in place. Every bump in the road made the wood shift. It pressed against their anal walls. It stimulated them. It kept them wet. Kept them ready.
The boy slept.
The old man drove.
Raven sat on the roof of the carriage. His legs dangled over the side. He looked at the approaching city. His coat was open. The wind was in his hair. He smiled.
The gates of the capital were enormous.
