The dawn broke, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, signaling a new day in the mountain tribe's village. Lyan, however, was already wide awake, caught in the throes of a primal ritual that had lasted through the night. The tribal women, each eager to share in the strength and legacy of their new chief, had kept him occupied, their desire for his strong seed driving them to passionate heights.
"Chief, give us your strength," one of the women murmured, her voice heavy with need as she pressed closer to him. "We need your strong seed."
Lyan, caught up in the fervor of the moment, obliged, his body responding to the relentless requests of the tribe's women. His stamina seemed endless, each encounter fueled by the primal need to assert his dominance and secure his place within the tribe.
