The air was heady with the smell of stale ale and sweaty bodies. With so many people inside the common room of the Silken Embrace, and so many of those people displaying mostly skin, it was bound to get a little robust. Yet it was just part of the charm. It was a promise to every guest about the possibilities that could be had inside those walls. After a while it invaded your senses and became as intoxicating as the drinks that were served. Even golden dragonesses weren’t immune.

Tonight’s offerings were plain. Your standard nobles with their heavy bags of cash. All so loud and brash and full of themselves. They had managed to intimidate and bully away anybody actually interesting. They were convinced that the one of them who managed to outbid the others would be the one she selected. But that hadn’t been true for months. 

Oh sure, when she first arrived at the Silken Embrace it had been on the whims of youth. It was a straightforward way to make a bit of gold and find her way in the world. A dragon was nothing without a hoard, and the greatest wyrm had to start somewhere. Yet it didn’t take long for Opal to find other reasons to stay. Hot and steamy reasons. Things as thick and needful as the smell in this common room. No, now she had very different desires from gold, ones these paunch and flabby nobles couldn’t possibly hope to fill. 

Still you couldn’t attract the guests you actually wanted without playing the game, so Opal coyly flirted and basked by the fireplace. Simply being seen would draw attention enough she found. Her beautifully lithe form stretched out on a bed of fine fabrics. The light from the fire flickered across her glittering golden scales casting dancing reflections on the wall behind her. She was a hundred and fifty years old, still young for a dragon, and she still had the lean body of youth. Her sire was heavily muscled and built to destroy castles and so she would be too one day, yet that sort of form took time. For now, she was still small, 8 feet at the shoulder and broader across than a large horse, and her body shapely with tantalizing curves. It drove men, and women, of all races wild with passion.

The grand double doors at the front of the common room swung open and Opal’s partner for the night walked in.

***

Rousseau had one thing on his mind. He’d crossed this continent not once, but twice to reach this room. Having nearly arrived the first time before the Madame decided a change of venue was appropriate and transported the entire establishment across the realm. It was close to a year ago that he heard of this golden beauty and he’d thought of little else since. 

He’d set out with all he could scrape together, intending to buy her time with bags of gold, but the trip had cost him dearly. He was on his second pair of boots and the soles were already wearing thin, he could not afford a third pair. He entered without enough to buy a room at a humble inn, let alone buy somebody to fill that room in the finest brothel the world had ever known. He was determined to get that which he desired on the back of grit alone. He strode confidently toward Opal’s corner of the room, his boots rapping brightly on the hardwood floor. 

Other possible partners fought for his attention as he passed, a satyr, a gnoll, a towering lizardman, or woman it was difficult to tell, but he ignored them all. He didn’t come here to settle. He didn’t come all this way to be denied for a single moment longer. A single golden eye studied him, intrigued, as he marched his way across the room. He pushed past a potbellied man in purple and lace and stood before that eye’s owner. The eye drew into a tight vertical slit, intently focused on him while behind him the fat man blustered. 

***

Opal eyed him wordlessly while the nobles began to argue and object to Rousseau’s presence among them. She studied this odd demihuman. He was orange furred with feline ears and a tail that lay motionless behind him. A tabaxi maybe, all the cat-like ones looked alike to Opal. His clothes were ragged, his boots heavily worn with travel, but he held himself confidently before her and his face was something approaching handsome. For a cat, anyway. 

He met her gaze, impressively enough, not wavering an inch while she stared at him. Her draconic features inches from his face. He stood tall against a mouth that, in other circumstances, could have easily ended his mortal existence. Oh, this one had promise, all right. Inwardly she trilled over the possibilities, but her demeanor betrayed nothing. The nobles began to shove themselves forward, no longer content to allow this commoner peasant to demand any of the dragoness’ attention. She smiled to herself.

It was a test then. How would this tabaxi deal with these three fools. She’d let that decide whether he would join her behind the beaded curtain or not. This is where the decision would happen, any talking, flirting, bargaining that happened after this… well… that would just be part of the game.

***

Somebody worthless shoved Rousseau from behind. He stumbled forward and nearly fell against the golden beauty’s head. She didn’t respond, just kept one reptilian eye on him and settled her head against her front claws to watch. He wasted no time, rounding on his heel to face the man who dared touch him. 

“A brave man to shove a man from behind. Do you have the courage to face me head on then? It would be a shame to ruin that fine coat.”

The nobleman in purple was only momentarily deterred. He began to throw his weight abought, threatening retribution for interrupting his conversation with ‘The Lady Opal’ and explaining how ruffians such as Rousseau weren’t allowed in this portion of the common room. He concluded his diatribe by ‘politely’ suggesting that Rousseau could find somebody of his own class at the opposite side of the room. 

In a way, it was impressive. This round-faced noble made a mildly successful show of being a hard man. Some people would have believed. However, the pompous ass in purple, and his two identical friends, were not hard men. They had never been hard men. They drank wine and paid hard men to do a job for them and had mistaken that for their own achievement. They may have purchased hard men’s services, but in the end, they were soft. 

Rousseau on the other hand, he had known difficulty. His entire life had been a struggle. Then he chose to set out on this fool’s quest where he had only toughened further. He was a hard man, as hard as the miles and miles of cobblestones he had crossed to get here. Made of stone, forged in the fires and tribulation of bad luck and worse choices. 

He was not a man of great eloquence like the nobles, nor wealth, nor fashion. But, there is one inescapable truth of the world. When faced with very hard men, soft men bend. Thusly, Rousseau stood his ground. In the face of all the blustering and thinly veiled threats he simply refused to back down. He didn’t incite violence or even really threaten it, he didn’t need to. His face made it obvious that he wasn’t going anywhere, he would have what he wanted. Soft men bent and he wouldn’t, that was enough. 

It worked as intended. The nobles weren’t going anywhere but they stopped trying to bully him away from their prize. They hemmed and hawed for moments longer but soon the nobles had quieted, the same tactics that had scared off all the smaller men earlier would not work against this ragged tabaxi and that was all they could do. They knew where they stood and Opal knew who she would be choosing tonight. 

For the first time since his arrival the dragoness spoke. “Well, it seems you have earned a seat at the table for now. Mind you do not lose it.” Her voice was sweet and sophisticated. A queen’s voice. She managed to make every syllable sing despite her mouth being ill-suited to the language of men. Such is the purview of the mighty dragoness. “What is your name tabby cat?”

“Rousseau DuLemonte, and I am no man to be mocked. I have travelled far to be here and you will use not insult me so.” He said over raised hackles. “And what is your name, lizard?”

The dragon didn’t respond to the bait. The feelings of mortals were beneath her. “You do not deserve my name, but you can call me Opal. It is the only name you will get from me.” The noblemen, now orbiting the conversation waiting for a chance to save face, smiled amongst themselves as if they had somehow managed a victory themselves. Opal continued as if she didn’t notice, “I will ask you the same thing I have asked all who come to see me. Why?”

Rousseau furrowed his brow, no longer enjoying this dragon’s company but still desiring her body. “Why what? Why did I come here?” Opal gave the slightest nod. “That’s simple. Conquest.”

Opal raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise. The bluntness. “Conquest? The men around you would compose ballads about my beauty, my nobility. They would sing the praises of how wonderful it is to just be allowed in my presence and you would come to me as a conqueror? Am I simply a thing to be bragged about back at home?”

“That is exactly what you are to me. I heard there was a dragon at the Silken Embrace. One of the mighty race who considers themselves above all of us. Even those like you, Opal” he spit the name “with your metallic sheen. Those who claim to be good but still consider us little more than ants beneath your feet.”

“I came here to stare into the face of one of these mighty beasts as I use her. Knowing I bought and paid for her just like I could buy anybody else in this room. To taste that is why.”

Again, Opal found herself studying the brave tabaxi with one great eye. Searching his face for any signs of weakness or deception. She spoke flatly. “I see. And what would you offer then, for the right to conquer me.” She looked toward the nobleman on the left. “Duke Pellius, here, offers me 12,000 gold just to gaze at me in private. Have you ever even seen that much gold in your life? And that just for the chance to look at me. So, what do you offer conqueror.” 

Rousseau looked down at his tattered clothes, his worn boots, and his empty pockets. He could think of nothing he had to give, but his pride bade him answer. “A boon. I have no gold or wonders to give in exchange, instead I will give you whatever it is you ask for. I’ll devote my life to finding it if I must. Anything in my power that would satisfy.”

The golden dragon lifted her heavy head from her claws and turned her long neck to look at the tabaxi directly. “You offer your very freedom then? If I were to demand your life, or your eternal service, or some bauble from the deepest parts of the underdark? Any or all of this in exchange for the conquer? A steep price to prove a point, but you would pay it?”

Staring into her eyes Rousseau questioned himself, but only for a moment. He nodded for there was no choice. 

Opal did not respond immediately. The tense silence stretched out as she pretended to consider his reasons and his offer. She knew she wanted him, she knew she would pick him, but he was on the hook. He was squirming under her gaze now. The game had begun and she played it masterfully. 

Her words, when finally spoken, cut through the tension like a warm knife. They still had their honey-sweet softness but also a damning finality. She turned to the noblemen. “Leave us.” She didn’t wait for a reply, instead she rose in one smooth motion. Rising onto her feet and stretching her wings wide, shaking the stillness from her limbs. She turned and strode toward the curtain at the back of the room, commanding Rousseau to follow. She gave him no option to disobey, she was leaving and he wanted her so he must follow. It was the first time he had done as she said.

For a creature of her size she was amazingly graceful. Her sleek feminine form moving delicately across the floor, her hips rocking with the slightest sway. The tabaxi’s eyes were locked on those hips lustfully and each step came tantalizingly close to revealing the treasure hidden under her thick tail. He rested his hand on her haunch, claiming her in his eyes. Opal pushed through the curtain, beads clacking around her as she nudged her way inside.

Rousseau looked behind him at a room full of faces full of jealousy. This is what is was for, this moment and all the times he could relive this moment when he told the story about how he bed a dragon. Look unto me, he would say, look at the man who elevated himself above a dragon.

***

The pair walked in silence down a hallway lined with stable like areas. Each with it’s own curtain for privacy. Providing shelter from prying eyes, but not impeding any of the sounds or smells. There was plenty to hear as well, the time was late and many guests had already retired to these wild rooms. Rosseau looked to his left to see a curtain dangling open. Inside a dwarf was standing on a box and furiously pumping into a deer centaur. They were both facing the door and waved as the tabaxi went by.

Opal’s room was at the exact end of the hall, a place of honor, and it had a proper set of double doors. It was beautifully ornate. Thick scrolling woodwork decorated the border and a life-size relief of a roaring dragon was carved in exquisite detail. The golden queen stood and waited for Rousseau to catch up and open those double doors for her. 

Instead of that however, Rousseau stopped where he was, still with his hand on the dragon’s rear hip. He eyed her legs and tail. He glanced toward Opal’s head, her expression was unreadable. 

“Let’s see what I purchased then.” He said, sliding his hand toward her tail. “I’m eager to explore it.”

She stood patiently as he slowly reached down. Her eyes aloof and relaxes. His fingertips brushed the softer scales that surrounded her sensitive areas. She moved.

Pain exploded in his chest. The dragon had whipped her tail toward him, crushing him hard against the wall. He struggled to regain his composure as the breath had been forced out of him. Behind him, two of the wooden planks on the wall had cracked through. The gold’s gaze was burning into him. “You seem to have misunderstood, conqueror” She said in that same beautiful measured tone. “I didn’t choose you for your reasons, or your offer.” She motioned toward the door to her room and Rousseau struggled to open it for her while still recovering from the blow. “What care I for vengeance against perceived slights or the worthless promises of a pauper.”

They stepped into the lavish room. The doors had only hinted at the opulence the room contained. “I didn’t choose you because you were the most handsome or the most deserving.” 

Opal walked to a great pile of animal furs which she used as a bed. She lay on her side, casually displaying her opening as if attempting to touch it hadn’t cost a man a few cracked ribs. It was primly closed, a simple slit in the scales between her legs. “I choose you because you are a hard man, as I imagine you are aware. Soft men are no fun, men like that bend easily when pressed upon. Hard men like you though? They break. Strip.”

The tabaxi hesitated until Opal started getting a dangerous look in her eye. He began to slowly remove his shirt and other garments, just fast enough to satisfy her yet still stalling for time. His ribs hurt but they’d feel better in a moment. 

The dragoness continued to explain to him what he was here for. “I am a dragon. I am the closest thing to perfection that the great Bahamut has seen fit to create. To me you are a worm, and a worm does not conquer a dragon. Despite your desires you have misunderstood what you purchased and that is not my own fault. Enough dawdling, show me yourself.” Rousseau dropped his hands to his sides and stood for Opal’s examination. Despite her cold words, her slit opened slightly with the barest hint of arousal as she inspected the naked demihuman. Obviously interested.

Opal licked her lips. Rousseau was thin and trimmed from months of travel. A human might look too thin, too bony should they go through something like that, but a cat-man? They had that lovely fur, so Rousseau looked slim and smooth and a beautiful shade of cream mixed with orange. Opal was certainly fond of fur. She shifted on her bed.

“I am not a liar.” The golden dragoness’ voice was softer now. “You are here to spend the night with me. Should you choose you can brag about your ‘conquer’ later, sparing the details of course. Tell whatever story you like to the fools in the common room know no better. But let me be clear. I am not here to pleasure you. You are here to pleasure me. That is what you have bought, the right to serve.” 

She rolled onto her stomach, hiding herself primly once again. A distinct heady aroma of dragon arousal was already permeating the room. “Start with a massage, and do it well. I’m a fair dragon, I recognize good service and I think you should like my rewards.” She paused for emphasis. “If you earn them. Or you could always leave, I force nobody into my bed.”

Rousseau had no choice. It wasn’t what he expected, it certainly wasn’t what he wanted, but she was right. He could invent a story and nobody could argue. He’d play her game, how easy to pretend to break. 

He stepped up to where the dragoness lay. She had her eyes closed now, patiently awaiting the pleasure he was to deliver her. His chest still ached slightly from the lesson he had been taught earlier, a small reminder about who held the power. He reached out his hands and lay them on the scaled golden hide of Opal’s foreleg. 

She was warm to the touch, almost hot really, and he could feel the ripples of the mighty muscles that lay just below the skin. He began to caress her, honestly trying to please the dragon. It was calculated, if he pleased her he could get what he wanted. Despite the turn of events he still desired her badly, now that she wasn’t directly threatening him he even found himself enjoying it. At least, the simple act of touching a beautiful woman was pleasing.

He took his time, attentively pressing and stretching each lithe muscle. Giving each one it’s own individual attention before moving onto the next. A simple technique repeated across her body. She was a great beast, it took a long time just to work through each muscle in one of her legs. By the time he had moved onto her shoulder the dragoness’ chest was rumbling slightly, pleased. Poetically, it was somewhat like a cat’s purr. 

The scales on Opal’s shoulder were tougher than the ones on her leg, but only by a degree. They were larger and thicker and overlapped more heavily and they only got larger as he went up toward the dragon’s spine. Conversely, they became smaller and smoother the further he got under her belly. He idly wondered about the feel of her hide that lined her thighs and slit.

In a spark of inspiration, the tabaxi decided to extend the small claws that tipped each of his fingers. They were tiny, only useful for picking one’s teeth, practically, but he wagered they would feel nice being drawn roughly across the gold’s course hide. He began to gently scratch Opal’s back in addition to massaging the heavy muscles. Opal tossed her head and growled with the sensation. 

“Ooh, that is delightful. Continue with earnest. But I give you warning,” she craned her head around on her long neck until she was facing the tabaxi, “I don’t appreciate initiative. If you get any innovative ideas, ask permission first, conqueror.” 

Rousseau nervously continued his attentions, rubbing the gold dragon’s scaled shoulders under her direct watchful eye. He couldn’t reach the highest points of her back from the ground, try though he might. He looked at the dragon in askance, “May I climb on you to reach all of you, Opal?”

She nodded to him. “That is fine, do watch out for my wings though. You could not hurt me even if you tried but the membrane is quite delicate. It is most uncomfortable to have them touched.” Golden eyes watched as the demihuman used his claws to scramble atop her. He rubbed carefully between her shoulder blades, massaging the powerful flight muscles but being careful about the wing membrane like she told him. That is well, he learns. She thought.

“Do keep scratching, tabaxi. It feels divine.” She growled and continued the purr-like rumbling in her chest as she enjoyed the sweet sensations she was being given. She could feel the warmth between her legs growing, a blossoming need. She pulled at the furs and pelts beneath her with her fore claws.

Rousseau obeyed her commands. He worked down her spine, massaging either side of the heavily armored ridge there, and along her flank. He found himself applying his care to her outer thighs and tail, careful to stay away from the underside lest he suffer Opal’s dissatisfaction again. He scratched and prodded and teased across her body. The dragon began to breathe heavily, no longer bantering with him or directing his actions. She vocalized her enjoyment and he would spend extra attention where she made the best noises. In spite of himself he was taking a sense of satisfaction in pleasing her.

The tabaxi ran his nails along the base of the dragon’s tail. One hand on either side of it, gently scratching. Opal groaned breathily and her hips involuntarily bucked backwards, tilting up like an overly large housecat preparing to be mated. Rousseau eyed the dragon’s hind quarters as she did so and intentionally stimulated the same spot. 

She tutted, a raspy sound her in draconic throat, and pushed him aside with her tail, gently this time. 

“It seems you have discovered a secret of mine, much by accident.” She moaned to him, once again facing him with her wide golden eyes. “But it is too early for that, yes? We cannot skip directly to such things, I have such a hunger that must be sated first.” The dragon stood off her bed of furs, a dampness now lightly upon them where her hips had been, and turned her body toward the small man. 

“Yet you have done well so far. You learn quickly to bend to me, to acknowledge me as the greater among us. I almost wish you had made it somewhat harder.” The golden head, as large as Rousseau’s torso, prodded at the cat’s chest, great nostrils inhaling deeply and savoring his scent. “Still, you please me…”  Slitted yellow eyes dipped downwards towards a stiff red member and furred balls that were nervously seeking attention. Again, the dragon inhaled, taking in his musk. “… and you require release.”

Opal settled onto her stomach, her head level with the orange-haired feline. “You discovered something about the females of my race. A nasty thing, truly. A spot for males to press in order to force females to allow them what they desire.” She huffed in dissatisfaction, a gout of warm air rushing across Rousseau’s intimate area. “I will show you a secret I discovered about the males of your race.”

A pair of large fore paws, tipped with razor sharp claws, corralled Rousseau in. Caging him. Pinning him uncomfortably close to the dragon’s face. He leaned back against them, reclining into her waiting grasp, trying to put more space between himself and the dagger filled maw. He twisted nervously, red manhood swaying slightly where it peaked out from his sheath.

Any space he created she immediately consumed, keeping her snout pushed into his nethers, breathing out steamy hot air onto his excited manhood and breathing in a heady aroma. 

“I found out quite by accident. It is funny, in a way. I meant to punish the kobold for some minor mistake he had made in my care. I sought to give him mild discomfort, I am not unduly cruel, but it ended quite differently.” A long slick forked tongue peeked out between dangerous teeth. It played across the tabaxi’s chest, leaving his fur wet and clumped as it traveled ever downward. “Since then I have learned all males work much the same. I have had remarkably few complaints.”

As her devilish tongue neared the throbbing barbed rod of Rousseau’s manhood it retracted. Avoiding his touch by inches. He fought the desire to press forward into it.

“I like this as a method to get males to release without giving away too much of what I have. You are still here for me after all, but I cannot have you be so distracted.” She slicked her tongue of her mouth again, it dangled between Rousseau’s thighs. “You humanoids are all so single minded. You are unable to focus on me properly while you still consider your own needs.” 

Her tongue suddenly moved upwards, sliding between the tabaxi’s cheeks and pressing against his puckered tailhole. His eyes shot wide and he tensed reflexively as he realized what she was after. He struggled to resist but to no avail. He was held firmly in her clawed hands, reclining in her deadly embrace. She worked her way into him with little effort, the slick forked appendage lubricating itself as it slid inside him. Deeper. Searching.

The dragon chortled as he struggled. “Ahh, there is the resistance I expected. Do not worry, you will see this is a gift I give.” Her compromising position didn’t impact her ability to tease him, apparently. He continued to squirm in her grasp. “I do enjoy the struggle so. Nothing given entirely freely is worth having. One should fight for what they want, do you not agree?”

The tabaxi was losing his resolve. The slippery length of Opal’s tongue was squirming inside him. After the initial invasiveness of it, however, it was starting to feel quite pleasurable. His muscles slackened, slowly his body began to respond. 

Opal moaned, the vibrations of which he could surprisingly feel most intimately. She enjoyed seeing him so. “I see you have begun to understand.” The dragon eyed the bobbing member in front of her. With her snout pressed between the man’s furred thighs, his balls resting between her nostrils, his cat-like cock was directly in front of her. It was much like a human’s aside from it’s angry red color and the small barbs surrounding the shaft. A drop of precum trickled across the head. 

The golden dragoness flexed her tongue and found the spot she had been looking for. Rousseau cried out openly, a shocked gasp and his eyes widened. A trickle of clear liquid flowed from his tip, a single drop fell and splashed onto Opal’s scaled snout. She breathed in the smell of him with another moan. Rousseau could not help himself, the pleasure overwhelmed him, and he reached for himself. Wrapping his cock in his own hand, preparing to satisfy himself in the way he had since he was young. A quick admonishment from the gold stopped him. 

“I warned you once already, conqueror, I do not like initiative. Now you must wait. Make not a sound.” Tense silence followed, punctuated only by gentle wet noises as the dragoness continued to pleasure the furred man. Her tongue pressing into and pulling back out of his tight virgin space. Rubbing along his inner walls. Rousseau fought to withhold himself, leaving his hands bundled in fists at his side and his jaw holding back cries of pleasure through clenched teeth.

An eternity passed. Seconds later with her tongue still exploring Rousseau’s depths, the dragon said “Okay. Now you may release. Do not disappoint.”

He took himself immediately. Wrapping his furred hand around his overly stimulated member and rubbing himself furiously under the watchful eye of the dragon. Pleasing her with a show. Giving her the enjoyment she sought even in the one moment he had been allowed to see to his own needs. Later, when he would talk about the time he slept with a dragon to an eager crowd of listeners, he would not mention how quickly he spent himself into his own hand. 

Heavy ropes of his own essence shot across the dragon’s face. Opal closed her eyes and continued the actions of her tongue as she waited for the man to empty. He was pent up and full before they had started. She bore quite the sticky mess as testament to that fact. With a final satisfying slurp she withdrew her tongue, gently caressing the tabaxi’s furred balled as she closed her mouth.

“There, now you can focus on what is important. Me. I dislike this mess you have created. Clean me.” 

Rousseau sheepishly looked about the room for a sink or basin of water and realized there were none.

The dragon laughed, a deep echoing noise that seemed to reverberate through the entire room. “A jest! The cat wonders how he is supposed to clean up after himself. You are a cat are you not? Is it not clear?” She brought her head closed to his own, predatory eyes studying him.

Were it not for the fur that covered his cheeks Rousseau would have been bright red with embarrassment. He leaned toward the dragoness and opened his mouth. The dragon had pleasured him in a way he had not known before using her impressive tongue. Now she demanded his own tongue be engaged in ways he had not imagined. There was no avoiding it. Ultimately, he found his own taste inoffensive.

Opal kept her eyes open through the entire show. She knew it unnerved him to have bright reptilian eyes studying him so intently as he made himself feel vulnerable. He was broken now, she thought. Or very close to it, and she cooed with delight as a small barbed tongue cleaned each one of the scales on her face. Not even the smallest drop was left to stain her brilliance. The rest of the night was hers to enjoy. He could gaze upon her now. Touch and fill her if she requested. Now that he knew it was only by her own divine grace that he was allowed to do so.

Rousseau finished his given task and sat back, waiting to be told another. This was good and right, he thought. This felt right, despite what he had thought when he first stepped into the room. He would do as she bade and doing so would give him the pleasure he desired. Should she choose, she would allow him to experience her again, maybe in other ways. Until then he sought only her satisfaction. The conqueror was ready to obey.

“You have done well. You have excited me more than I have known in some time.” Carefully, minding her bulk, the dragon rolled onto her side. Just between her hind legs and the base of her tail, her slit leaked readily. A pungent odor rolled through the room, it was intoxicating. A gentle throb from inside the gold squeezed more of her juices out and her slit gaped ever so slightly. “Forget the massage. I desire more direct stimulation.”

Opal lay there with her legs splayed forward and her tail held back, providing easy access to the would-be conqueror. He stepped close to her and placed his hands on her entrance. The scales there were soft, practically silken, and they disappeared just outside the slit, leaving nothing to ruin the fine slick texture of her womanhood. Her edges had engorged with arousal and they were soft to the touch. He rubbed them up and down, spreading her open to better examine her beauty.

Being reptilian, she had no rear entrance in the traditional sense, instead her slit contained everything that was needed. Towards at the end of the slit towards her tail a puckered hole much like his own sat, and towards her legs a large knob of flesh like a female from his own race but grown large, a draconic clitoris. Between those lay the main course, her entranced gaped slightly and dripped arousal. She was large enough to accommodate a male even larger than she was, with a more impressive cock than anything a tabaxi could bring to bear. Rousseau realized he would never be able to satisfy her with his prick alone.

Opal’s voice grew ravenous as he rubbed the outside of her entrance, a needful tone to it. “You should please me now. Do not be gentle, you cannot break me.” Rousseau pressed a finger to her slick entrance and it slid in with little resistance. “You will need more than that. My desire is deep and it will take time to fill. Neither should you rush, nor overly delay.” She smiled as she felt her walls close around not a finger, but a fist. “You will know when you are done, I am quite sure.”

Rousseau’s arm disappeared up to his elbow before he reached the extent of what Opal could take. He slid it back out slowly, feeling the hot wet walls squirm and pulse as he did so. The dragon’s chest rumbled with each long luxurious stroke of his arm. Slick and savory juices coated the tabaxi’s fur, making it stick together and clump as he himself became well lubricated.

Opal had worked hard to prevent Rousseau from becoming distracted during this, his most important, task. However, already his arousal was beginning to blossom anew. How could one not desire more from this beautiful scaled goddess. Just the ability to touch her so intimately was his own personal heaven. A heaven of wet noises and rumbling dragon moans. Perfect. He stood near at attention already. His prickled feline cock bobbed with excitement.

“How well do you know women, former conqueror? Must I instruct you in the use of your tongue? I will do so, but a good servant would not need it.” 

Rousseau had already been eyeing the dragon’s sensitive nub, waiting for permission. It was little more than a taught bundle of nerves that peeked out from between her folds. One of the few scaleless parts of a dragon’s anatomy, one of the most sensitive. He licked his lips in anticipation and stuck out his tongue, playing the lightest touch across the surface of his queen’s treasure. Her quivering walls gripped his arm.

“I had forgotten, felines such as you have barbed tongues yes? An exciting rediscovery.” She cooed with delight. Her voice hitched each time his tongue touched her again and more of her liquid excitement ran down his arm. His pace would not flag, continuous long and slow strokes, sometimes with a slight twisting motion. He sped up but only gradually, only enough to tell her that she would be getting more.

He rolled her button in his mouth. It was hard, fully excited, and small enough to easily wrap his lips around. He played with it gently, not wanting to overly excite the dragon too quickly. The flat of his tongue rewarded him with the biggest growls and he used it sparingly. He had given up the entirety his power and desire in exchange for the chance to pleasure her like this. He had done it gladly and would never regret it, but a small portion of him still wanted to make her beg and this portion worked slowly and intently on her clit.

His own sensitive area was bobbing in time with each push into the larger form. A thin trail of precum trickled from his tip. He longed to pleasure himself with his free hand but he knew it would not be allowed. Better instead to put it to work as well, remove the temptation for him.

He would not, or could not, remove his mouth from her sensitive spot so he pressed a single finger against the puckered hole hidden at the back of her slit. Hidden away from sight but still there for use should she desire it. He would not go further without asking, never again, but maybe if he hinted at his desire she would notice and admit him. He treated her with a long lavish lick across her smooth clit and she roared briefly.

“What are you doing back there? I feel something pressing.” The tip of her tail twitched as the pleasure inside her built. “You may, if you desire, I have found that spot quite pleasing to me in the past.” A second hand pushed into the dragon as soon as permission was given and she sighed contentedly. A pressure wave was building in her ever higher, sweet release would come and she would ride the wave in bliss.

Temptation gone, his ability to pleasure himself safely removed, Rousseau picked up the pace. He pressed into and withdrew from both her holes with urgency. She was so hot inside, like a furnace on his arms. The smell of her arousal was intoxicating and it drenched his face and neck, dripping down to his chest. He could feel his own satisfaction building along with hers. With every writhing squeeze on his arm, with every growl and moan elicited by his tongue, he felt a pressure building in him. A tightness in his balls was forming.

Opal moaned a long low note, a deep rumbling in her chest as waves of intense sensation washed over her consciousness. “You do well. I will reward this if you do not disappoint me at the end.” She held her breath as a larger pulse of pleasure coursed through her as the tabaxi expertly caressed her with his mouth. “It is not long now.” She said in a breathless gasp.

Rousseau could feel himself about to finish. His balls tightened and yearned for him to spill his essence but to finish before Opal was unthinkable. He fought it down and redoubled his efforts. He put his full strength into his arms and lay constant licks across her clit. Each of his arms was a large male dragon ramming into her with exuberance. Two of them, treating her to everything they had, at the same time. Her inner walls fought him with every stroke, refusing to let him leave until he gave into their hot thirst for sticky seed, a need that would have to go unfulfilled. 

Opal gasped and squirmed on her bed, her forepaws clawing at the furs she lay on. “Mmmm, oh, fuck.” She said between desperate gasps for breath. Her regal nobility replaced by a needful animal lust. She fought to hold back, to make her would-be conqueror work ever harder, but it was a fight she was rapidly losing. “Please don’t stop.” She screamed. It was an admission of loss, some degree of control had been wrested from her, but in the moment, it mattered not.

Rousseau wracked the dragon with his tongue, causing endless delight as he drew it frenetically across the sensitive flesh. His arms worked her holes and he felt a final clench, one which did not abate. The dragoness opened her mouth and roared silently at the ceiling with no breath in her to scream. A gushing flow of her wet hot lust squeezed across the tabaxi’s arms, splashing his chest. It ran down him in rivers, splashing at his feet, and mixing with the cum he had sprayed onto the furs beneath him. His cock throbbed and pulsed, pumping his own essence into a growing puddle of the gold’s. 

He pulled his mouth from her, tired tongue like a brick in his mouth. His arms were fastened in her, unable to fight against the strength at which she held them. They pulsed and squeezed him, asking for more of the heavenly juice he could not give. Without that satisfying wetness to quell her fires she stayed held in the throes of a powerful orgasm which only slowly abated. Rousseau waited for her next command with his arm still inside her.

Eventually the golden dragoness caught her breath and recovered. Rolling onto her stomach and forcing the tabaxi to remove himself from her or be crushed underneath her lithe bulk. “You have done well, servant. Better than any I can remember, in honesty.” She looked at him with her slitted golden eyes, smiling inside when she noticed the white cum that dripped from his barbed cock. “You have earned your reward and then some. I will give you the choice then. You may spill your seed in me, how do you wish to do so?”

Rousseau very nearly blurted out an answer. Of course he wished to push himself into the dragons twitching cunt. Without delay if possible, while it still quivered with orgasmic glee. There was no comparable sensation he could imagine so clearly. Then he thought of something else.

He thought of how much he enjoyed himself in his pursuit of her pleasure. How the act of obeying each of her whims brought him more satisfaction than he had ever gained on his own. Most of all he thought about how she would get no enjoyment from him were he to use her in the manner he wished. 

“How would you like me?” He asked and the dragon lifted a scaly eyebrow.

“You wish to use your choice on the method of my choosing? In the way that I find most endearing?”

“Yes, I, uhhh…” he stammered and only managed the rest in a whisper. “I think I like it this way.”

The dragon smiled openly at him, an expression full of dagger sharp teeth that lacked all the emotion it was meant to convey. “Interesting. A truly broken conqueror. Very well, I find small men fit best inside my mouth. I would not normally admit it, but I enjoy the taste of your seed. Your fur smells nice as well. That is the way that will best suit me.”

Rousseau nodded and lay on his back at her direction. The pile of furs was a cozy bed and he felt at home there. Much to his pleasure the dragoness took her time in extracting her own pleasure from him. She cleaned his fur much as he had cleaned her face earlier, removing all trace of her own sex from him. She enjoyed the taste of him and herself as they mingled together in her mouth as well as the intoxicating aroma of his fur. Especially around his sex where he was the most pungent.

When she was ready she took him into her mouth. She used her tongue deftly, wrapping him tightly so as to please him and enjoy his taste at the same time. Her natural heat and the wetness of her maw worked him quickly. He placed his paws on either side of her snout and held her, she allowed him to do so.

Ultimately it was a satisfying experience for both of them. She got some degree of satisfaction, he really did taste quite nice, and he came harder than he had in his entire life. Lost himself in the maw of a dragon and was nearly driven to tears by the pleasure he felt. Yet this is not his story, is it? This is Opal’s story, and for her this was but a momentary diversion that she gave him before his services would be required again. She was a hungry needful dragon and the night was young.

The morning came after a long sleepless night. Rousseau lay spent and wasted on the floor nearby, desperately trying to regain his feet to make his exit from the dragon that had taken so much of him. He stumbled over to his clothes as they lay sprawled by the door. A clawed foreleg blocked his access and he turned toward his queen.

“How easily you forget, conqueror. Your word is worth so little that you’d forget about it after one little night?”

The tabaxi hardly considered it little, it was the most strenuous night of his life, though he didn’t regret it.

“You promised me a boon, did you not? Anything I asked, I believe. Well I have decided.”

Rousseau held his breath.

“A month. It is good news for you, I think. Simply a month of your time, spent here with me. You are such a good servant I am wont to lose you so quickly.” She pulled his clothes away from him with razor sharp claws, tearing the fabric to shreds. “You won’t need these, food will arrive here shortly. Rest well until it does and eat your fill. I would not want you to lose your strength before we have really begun. I have great needs, conqueror, and you have plenty of time to fill them.”

It was a very long month.
