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distributors.","count":"84","submission_left_submission_id":"1876132","submission_left_file_name":"2697420_AmethystMare_tangled_in_transformation_vol_1a_teaser.doc","submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/2697/2697420_AmethystMare_tangled_in_transformation_vol_1a_teaser.jpg","submission_left_thumbnail_url_large":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/2697/2697420_AmethystMare_tangled_in_transformation_vol_1a_teaser.jpg","submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/2697/2697420_AmethystMare_tangled_in_transformation_vol_1a_teaser.jpg","submission_left_thumb_huge_x":"300","submission_left_thumb_huge_y":"300","submission_left_thumb_large_x":"200","submission_left_thumb_large_y":"200","submission_left_thumb_medium_x":"120","submission_left_thumb_medium_y":"120"}],"description":"She's been hurt. She's been abused. And, now, it's time to get her revenge.\n\nGwen is not an anthro mare that likes to let things like that pass by, although she is better about getting even than anything else. Feelings fester and she'd rather hiss and grind her teeth through throes of pleasure. Summoning the demon that hurt her so is a risky endeavour but Gwen the witch has a team of kinky kobolds ready and waiting to abuse him, to treat him as terribly as the demon treated her...\n\nAll's fair in love and war, even when there's not much love about it.\n\nPayback is a bitch.\n\nNote: this story contains NC scenes between a draconic demon and kobolds.\n\n\n---\n\n\nThank you for reading! This re-published story is available to purchase worldwide via Smashwords and distributors!\n\nSmashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/989004\n\n\n\n\n\nThank you for reading!\n\nIf you enjoyed this story, please take a look at my website, where similar stories are listed by kink!\n\nhttps://alismitsy.wordpress.com/\n\n\nAll new releases will be announced via my Twitter account!\n\n@alismitsy\n\n\nI am also available for custom stories, tailored to your preferred nuances and characters. Please e-mail the following address for further information.\n\narianmabe@gmail.com","description_bbcode_parsed":"She's been hurt. She's been abused. And, now, it's time to get her revenge.

Gwen is not an anthro mare that likes to let things like that pass by, although she is better about getting even than anything else. Feelings fester and she'd rather hiss and grind her teeth through throes of pleasure. Summoning the demon that hurt her so is a risky endeavour but Gwen the witch has a team of kinky kobolds ready and waiting to abuse him, to treat him as terribly as the demon treated her...

All's fair in love and war, even when there's not much love about it.

Payback is a bitch.

Note: this story contains NC scenes between a draconic demon and kobolds.


---


Thank you for reading! This re-published story is available to purchase worldwide via Smashwords and distributors!

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/989004





Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed this story, please take a look at my website, where similar stories are listed by kink!

https://alismitsy.wordpress.com/


All new releases will be announced via my Twitter account!

@alismitsy


I am also available for custom stories, tailored to your preferred nuances and characters. Please e-mail the following address for further information.

arianmabe@gmail.com","writing":"Demons Beware\n\nTraining Her Demon\n\nThe night was overcast and mild, a miserable drizzle falling over the luscious, green, Welsh hills. Sheep huddled within their folds and cried out forlornly, their `baa's' echoing across to distant farmhouses where sheepdogs rolled beneath thick duvets, mumbling within the trapped, nightly warmth. Hedges bordering the fields bristled with leaves and spread protective fingers over scampering field mice and hedgehogs, intent on going about their nightly business; rain brought the slugs out, after all, making a veritable feast. Deeper into the hills, where mountains rose, rough and scraggy with scattered rocks, there were fewer dwelling places for various furs and fewer sheep still. It was across this uneven terrain that a cloaked figure strode with purpose.\n\nThe black mare was one with the night, only her white markings setting her apart from the swathe of impenetrable blackness: one white sock on her right fetlock and a stripe down her muzzle, both traditional, equine markings. Though her head was concealed beneath the dark cloak, lined with warm, cream fur, she had the appearance and stature of a Welsh Mountain pony, the Arabian blood visible in the dish of her cheekbone. With her thin coat, the mare was grateful her warm cloak, which hung down to her calves, retaining precious body heat. Cloaks such as hers were inherited, not bought, and Gwen shivered at the memory of her dying mother handing it to her on her death bed, her wasted paw shaking terribly. She had wanted her daughter to continue on her work.\n\nHer work was dangerous, yet rewarding on a most personal level. Gwen smiled secretively, the misty rain her only witness. Summoning those lesser beings to do her bidding took time, patience and deep magic that ran in the veins of very few mortals that were still alive. She was, what many would call, a witch, despite not holding any love for the term. Demons were the clay she moulded to her will and those who opposed her had met many nasty surprises in their time; she was not one to be trifled with. She was preparing one of those nasty surprises that fateful night. Oh, how she looked forward to it! Her pace quickened and her breath misted from her nostrils in a heady snort; she eagerly anticipated reaching her secluded destination, a place that she had visited only once before under less compelling circumstances.\n\nShe had chosen a nook in the mountain side for the act to take place. A broad overhang jutted out from a steep, not sheer, cliff that dripped with water; it would provide the necessary shelter. Gwen trotted under with a gentle sigh, the music of the rain melancholy to her twitching ears, which she freed from the heavy hood with the flick of her narrow, feminine wrist. A string of white beads dangled from this wrist, carved from the bone of a horse that had had the misfortune to canter into the path of a rampaging demon. The horse, of course, had fallen prey to possession in a matter of seconds but Gwen had managed to send the demon back to his lair, taking the bone of the dead equine for future protection.\n\nFrom inside her cloak, she withdrew ten, small, off-white candles from several cleverly concealed pockets, placing them in a circle that boasted a great enough circumference for an anthropomorphic creature to stand comfortably without being touched by the flames. A touch of melted wax at the top of each candle suggested that they had already been used and Gwen meticulously lit them with a tilted match from another of her hidden pockets, stowing away the matchbox afterwards. She did not want anything to sully her plans for the night.\n\nThe preparations were made.\n\nAnd, so, she paced a circle.\n\nThe words that tumbled from her tongue were as familiar as a draught of cooling spring water but they would be foreign to any native of the land she so roamed. They were neither Welsh nor English and not even one the old strains of Celtic or Gaelic that served droplets in their offspring languages. Her words had a deeper meaning that caught at the very core of being and bade those with listening ears to do her will, clawing their way forth into her ring of candlelight with a hungry snarl. But not that night. She would do her own will that night and cut down all that sought to stand against her. She merely had to hold this one.\n\nSomething stirred the dust in the circle of candlelight, making the flames dance and snap to and fro with burning life of their own. Beneath the hard, before impenetrable stone, a snout pushed upwards against the fabric of existence, warping the barrier and howling furiously when it could not immediately be broken. Keeping up her soft chant, Gwen narrowed her eyes in concentration, intent upon completing the chant and ritual that would allow him, for she knew this demon on a personal level, to enter into her cold, damp world.\n\nWith a final, brutal roar, a purple form erupted from the rock, leaving nothing but smooth stone in its wake and a flutter of lucid candle flames. Gwen stepped back and patiently let her arms dangle loosely at her sides, relaxed and comfortable with the proceedings, which were progressing as planned. Roaming her eyes over this one's scaled, purple body, for he was a draconian demon, her eyes wandered to his black front and muzzle, split by narrower bands of purple. He had acquired a few new scars since she had seen him last. She permitted the demon one circle outside the overhang, his wings beating powerfully, and snapped her fingers, using her mind and will to call him back to her side. Straight away, he returned and landed in front of her, settling his wings behind his back and snorting derisively when he comprehended who had summoned him.\n\n``You?'' He snarled, showing his teeth and backing away from the circle of candles, flapping his leathery wings wearily. ``Why have you summoned me? Did you not get enough last time, little mare? You are not my master.''\n\n``Quit your yowling,'' she said calmly and, just like that, the demon's jaws snapped shut as if bound by an invisible rope. ``I am your mistress, now and until I choose to release you.''\n\nHe shook his head and growled furiously, unable to part his jaws but fighting to vocalise his disapproval. Gwen laughed, the light noise echoing reverberating off the quiet overhang walls. Oh, he was a funny one, all right, all talk at first but quick to be subdued; he had submitted to her will so easily, coming to her call like a trained hound to its master's whistle or mistress' lap. There was a score to settle. Guarding herself, Gwen clip-clopped around the demon, noting his fine, downward curving horns and broad body, a treat if she had ever seen one. She was not one to be caught unawares, although this demon had been part of a searing disgrace and the memory still burned white hot in her mind.\n\n``You violated me, Arkan,'' Gwen said slowly, her voice silken with threat. ``You wronged me. Do you remember that? Oh, I'm sure you do. Do you remember pressing my chest to the ground, forcing the breath from my lungs? Do you remember slapping my muzzle? I bit my tongue when you did that. Did you smell the blood? Did my body excite you? Was your master pleased with your report? Did he masturbate to your retelling? Did you like spilling your filthy cum inside me? No need to answer, beast. You wronged me - that is all we need to cover for this night. And now I shall extract my revenge.''\n\n``I didn't mean to do it,'' he mumbled through the verbal gag, arching his back against her overpowering will even though he knew in his bones that resistance was futile: she had too strong a hold on him already. ``He made me do it. My master.''\n\n``What was that?'' Gwen cupped her paw to her ear, pretending that she had not heard his mumble. ``I thought demons were able to fight off weak mortals, isn't that right? Big strong demons are untameable, not house pets to half-breed dogs?''\n\nHe groaned and shook his head. He would have fought off that dog mortal, the time-scarred wolfhound - he would have! He would have fought him off if he had not been so desperate for a carnal release... That male had been too clever for him and had chosen Arkan specifically for his involvement with Gwen; demons absorbed traces of Summoner magic whenever they were beckoned and Gwen's invisible traces criss-crossed his body from his muzzle to his clawed toes. She had not bade him to empty his burning balls, for they did indeed burn for a demon kept chaste, so he had grown increasingly restless, though content to do her bidding once soothed by the usual calming touch of her mind. That was why the other master had commanded him to go to her and violate the mare against her will in a brief moment of weakness, when she was in season. She had not miscarried or aborted, Arkan suspected, for who would be able to carry or would desire to carry a demon spawn, fire in their belly? The wolfhound master had been especially cruel and considered the orders `an act of revenge'; Arkan was clueless as to what manner evil had transpired between the two Summoners, yet he was the one to be punished for it.\n\n``That's right,'' Gwen continued, bringing her paw to his muzzle in a swift, sharp slap. ``You're a weakling demon. I had the goodness of heart to bring you up from the pits and that was how you repaid me! I will teach you to cross me, mark my words, dragon. And then your bastard of a master can get some very special treatment, courtesy of Gwendolen.''\n\nBaring her blunt teeth at the cowed demon, Gwen cast off her hooded cloak with a flourish, revealing a pink, lace thong and brassiere that left nothing to the imagination; her nipples and velvety pussy were shockingly visible through the sheer material. Arkan moaned and tipped forward wishfully, recalling the time that he had taken this mare... He had had not choice in the matter but he fleetingly wondered if he would fuck her again, willingly or not, if he had such opportunity.\n\n``I don't normally wear these,'' she said by way of explanation, removing both bra and thong from her body with quick, practical movements. ``They are far too feminine for my tastes, but for yours... I think they are just right. Don't you agree?''\n\nHis eyes widened and he shook his head rapidly, grunting anxiously. She couldn't be serious! Yet she was and she manhandled his arms up and through the thin shoulder straps of the bra, fastening it around his wide, masculine chest with a nicker of charmed difficulty. The garment would undoubtedly be ruined - it was far too small for him - and the neat cups stretched flat across his pectorals. The demon tried to look away, muzzle heating up as if he had never suffered the course of a blush before, and wished to disappear back into the ground that he had emerged from.\n\nWorse to come was the thong, which Gwen stretched up over his long legs, which were built up with muscle and oozed strength that he was unable to utilise. She yanked it up without mercy over his hips and settled the thin back piece between his rear cheeks, smirking when it dug into the outer part of his tail hole and, agonisingly, between his balls, separating them within the plump sack and bulging out over his soft cock. Huffing, Arkan blew a cloud of smoke and winced almost immediately afterwards; Gwen had poked him in the balls, her hard nail digging in for a shocking second. He shouldn't be dressed like this, shouldn't be dressed at all. The dragon closed his eyes and willed himself away, though his cock stirred at the sense of the admittedly beautiful, wicked female so close to him. He was still a male when all was said and done.\n\n``Please stop,'' he muttered, able to talk a little as Gwen was enjoying the repulsed sounds that he made. She pretended to consider his request.\n\n``No.''\n\nHe hung his head in defeat, unconsciously accepting whatever was to happen to him.\n\nIt will be over soon, he told himself, strengthening his mental resolve. Just hold out, take whatever she throws at you. Look at you though, a big demon whining and begging like an imp. You should be ashamed of yourself. Damn her!\n\n``On your knees, dragon,'' she ordered, watching with pleasure as his legs buckled and he collapsed, shaking, to the required position.\n\nEnd preview.\n\nThank you for reading! This re-published story is available to purchase worldwide via Smashwords and distributors!\n\nSmashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/989004 \n\nThank you for reading!\n\nIf you enjoyed this story, please take a look at my website, where similar stories are listed by kink!\n\n HYPERLINK \"https://alismitsy.wordpress.com/\" https://alismitsy.wordpress.com/ \n\nAll new releases will be announced via my Twitter account!\n\n@alismitsy\n\nI am also available for custom stories, tailored to your preferred nuances and characters. Please e-mail the following address for further information.\n\n HYPERLINK \"mailto:arianmabe@gmail.com\" arianmabe@gmail.com \n\nIf you liked this story, you may also enjoy...\n\nKinktober: The 2018 Collection\n\nThere?s no spook like a kinky spook and the creepiest month of the year does not hold back in the world of fetish! Bring on the twincest and the magic of animated gloves: in this collection, there is a kink for everyone to enjoy!\n\nThis story collection contains the following stories:\n\n1. An Accidental Breeding\n\n2. Knot on the Beach3. Kidnapped\n\n4. The Magic Gloves\n\n5. Bound by His Gloves\n\n6. Gelding the Stallion\n\n7. The Witch's Spell\n\n8. A Demoness is Born\n\n9. The Dungeon of the Twins\n\n10. Brotherly Tail\n\n11. Bimbo Hypnosis\n\n12. Turning the Tables\n\n13. The Chastity Trick\n\n14. Milking the Tiger\n\n15. Pegged at the Party\n\n16. Other books from this author\n\n17. Bonus story\n\nPlease note that this story collection contains incest, dubcon, forced and other rough kinks. All is for fantasy and fictional purposes only in this erotic collection.\n\nDemon?s Lust: Book One\n\nKao visits her brother, Fyr, and, well, things aren?t all quite as they seem. Of course, he?s still the protective older brother that he?s always been but there?s something more going on there with his friend. The cougar, Ropes, eyes her up by a slab of meat waiting to be devoured and he?s a kitty that is hungry for something more than meat...\n\nBut does a dragoness trust that he won?t lure her softly into his folds, the tentacles that he has to hide in public tucked away beneath his shirt? Ah, Ropes has a secret to conceal but the unleashing of his pheromones tingles through her, drawing her to sensuality that carries such a risk to it too.\n\nKao must decide whether she?ll go to the demon...or not.\n\nFrom Rider to Ridden: Becoming Her Mount\n\nShe should never have done it, Lady Lyra of the estate and of noble birth. There is not much to her, a woman who has more power from her family than anything else, and everyone who deals with her knows it. And when she is cruel to her mount, a gorgeous mare that deserves to be treated far, far more kindly, she is transformed into that very horse?s body, their forms swapped while her mare becomes a noblewoman in her place.\n\nYet the mare that now has her body has more in mind for the trapped Lady Lyra and the horrors of living in an equine body are only just beginning to show themselves as thoughts turn to breeding the newest mare in the stables...\n\nNote: This story contains non-consensual erotica between two horses (a woman trapped in a horse?s body) and all characters in the story are of age adults over the age of eighteen.\n\nThe Cuckold Husband: My Wife Submits to Her Draconic Alpha\n\nI knew that I was never going to be the stud, the alpha male to make my wife swoon and sweep her off her feet. That is okay. That is fine. It?s just...a bit strange. There?s something different about our relationship that makes my knees quake, makes me want to drop to them, though only when she has her other partner there before me, taunting me with his might and power.\n\nHe?s a stunner, Titan the dragon. But I can?t match up to a dragon! He?s not meant to be, but he dominates like nothing ever has and my wife can?t get enough of him. After so many liaisons, we need it more and more, me watching, always watching. Why, after all, would they want such a weak husband to get involved when they have each other?\n\nBut voyeuristic pleasure can be just as kinky as lusts turn to different pleasures and even more stretching of her forbidden entrance than I could have possibly have imagined her taking...\n\n PAGE \\* MERGEFORMAT 5 \n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"Demons Beware

Training Her Demon

The night was overcast and mild, a miserable drizzle falling over the luscious, green, Welsh hills. Sheep huddled within their folds and cried out forlornly, their `baa's' echoing across to distant farmhouses where sheepdogs rolled beneath thick duvets, mumbling within the trapped, nightly warmth. Hedges bordering the fields bristled with leaves and spread protective fingers over scampering field mice and hedgehogs, intent on going about their nightly business; rain brought the slugs out, after all, making a veritable feast. Deeper into the hills, where mountains rose, rough and scraggy with scattered rocks, there were fewer dwelling places for various furs and fewer sheep still. It was across this uneven terrain that a cloaked figure strode with purpose.

The black mare was one with the night, only her white markings setting her apart from the swathe of impenetrable blackness: one white sock on her right fetlock and a stripe down her muzzle, both traditional, equine markings. Though her head was concealed beneath the dark cloak, lined with warm, cream fur, she had the appearance and stature of a Welsh Mountain pony, the Arabian blood visible in the dish of her cheekbone. With her thin coat, the mare was grateful her warm cloak, which hung down to her calves, retaining precious body heat. Cloaks such as hers were inherited, not bought, and Gwen shivered at the memory of her dying mother handing it to her on her death bed, her wasted paw shaking terribly. She had wanted her daughter to continue on her work.

Her work was dangerous, yet rewarding on a most personal level. Gwen smiled secretively, the misty rain her only witness. Summoning those lesser beings to do her bidding took time, patience and deep magic that ran in the veins of very few mortals that were still alive. She was, what many would call, a witch, despite not holding any love for the term. Demons were the clay she moulded to her will and those who opposed her had met many nasty surprises in their time; she was not one to be trifled with. She was preparing one of those nasty surprises that fateful night. Oh, how she looked forward to it! Her pace quickened and her breath misted from her nostrils in a heady snort; she eagerly anticipated reaching her secluded destination, a place that she had visited only once before under less compelling circumstances.

She had chosen a nook in the mountain side for the act to take place. A broad overhang jutted out from a steep, not sheer, cliff that dripped with water; it would provide the necessary shelter. Gwen trotted under with a gentle sigh, the music of the rain melancholy to her twitching ears, which she freed from the heavy hood with the flick of her narrow, feminine wrist. A string of white beads dangled from this wrist, carved from the bone of a horse that had had the misfortune to canter into the path of a rampaging demon. The horse, of course, had fallen prey to possession in a matter of seconds but Gwen had managed to send the demon back to his lair, taking the bone of the dead equine for future protection.

From inside her cloak, she withdrew ten, small, off-white candles from several cleverly concealed pockets, placing them in a circle that boasted a great enough circumference for an anthropomorphic creature to stand comfortably without being touched by the flames. A touch of melted wax at the top of each candle suggested that they had already been used and Gwen meticulously lit them with a tilted match from another of her hidden pockets, stowing away the matchbox afterwards. She did not want anything to sully her plans for the night.

The preparations were made.

And, so, she paced a circle.

The words that tumbled from her tongue were as familiar as a draught of cooling spring water but they would be foreign to any native of the land she so roamed. They were neither Welsh nor English and not even one the old strains of Celtic or Gaelic that served droplets in their offspring languages. Her words had a deeper meaning that caught at the very core of being and bade those with listening ears to do her will, clawing their way forth into her ring of candlelight with a hungry snarl. But not that night. She would do her own will that night and cut down all that sought to stand against her. She merely had to hold this one.

Something stirred the dust in the circle of candlelight, making the flames dance and snap to and fro with burning life of their own. Beneath the hard, before impenetrable stone, a snout pushed upwards against the fabric of existence, warping the barrier and howling furiously when it could not immediately be broken. Keeping up her soft chant, Gwen narrowed her eyes in concentration, intent upon completing the chant and ritual that would allow him, for she knew this demon on a personal level, to enter into her cold, damp world.

With a final, brutal roar, a purple form erupted from the rock, leaving nothing but smooth stone in its wake and a flutter of lucid candle flames. Gwen stepped back and patiently let her arms dangle loosely at her sides, relaxed and comfortable with the proceedings, which were progressing as planned. Roaming her eyes over this one's scaled, purple body, for he was a draconian demon, her eyes wandered to his black front and muzzle, split by narrower bands of purple. He had acquired a few new scars since she had seen him last. She permitted the demon one circle outside the overhang, his wings beating powerfully, and snapped her fingers, using her mind and will to call him back to her side. Straight away, he returned and landed in front of her, settling his wings behind his back and snorting derisively when he comprehended who had summoned him.

``You?'' He snarled, showing his teeth and backing away from the circle of candles, flapping his leathery wings wearily. ``Why have you summoned me? Did you not get enough last time, little mare? You are not my master.''

``Quit your yowling,'' she said calmly and, just like that, the demon's jaws snapped shut as if bound  by an invisible rope. ``I am your mistress, now and until I choose to release you.''

He shook his head and growled furiously, unable to part his jaws but fighting to vocalise his disapproval. Gwen laughed, the light noise echoing reverberating off the quiet overhang walls. Oh, he was a funny one, all right, all talk at first but quick to be subdued; he had submitted to her will so easily, coming to her call like a trained hound to its master's whistle or mistress' lap. There was a score to settle. Guarding herself, Gwen clip-clopped around the demon, noting his fine, downward curving horns and broad body, a treat if she had ever seen one. She was not one to be caught unawares, although this demon had been part of a searing disgrace and the memory still burned white hot in her mind.

``You violated me, Arkan,'' Gwen said slowly, her voice silken with threat. ``You wronged me. Do you remember that? Oh, I'm sure you do. Do you remember pressing my chest to the ground, forcing the breath from my lungs? Do you remember slapping my muzzle? I bit my tongue when you did that. Did you smell the blood? Did my body excite you? Was your master pleased with your report? Did he masturbate to your retelling? Did you like spilling your filthy cum inside me? No need to answer, beast. You wronged me - that is all we need to cover for this night. And now I shall extract my revenge.''

``I didn't mean to do it,'' he mumbled through the verbal gag, arching his back against her overpowering will even though he knew in his bones that resistance was futile: she had too strong a hold on him already. ``He made me do it. My master.''

``What was that?'' Gwen cupped her paw to her ear, pretending that she had not heard his mumble. ``I thought demons were able to fight off weak mortals, isn't that right? Big strong demons are untameable, not house pets to half-breed dogs?''

He groaned and shook his head. He would have fought off that dog mortal, the time-scarred wolfhound - he would have! He would have fought him off if he had not been so desperate for a carnal release... That male had been too clever for him and had chosen Arkan specifically for his involvement with Gwen; demons absorbed traces of Summoner magic whenever they were beckoned and Gwen's invisible traces criss-crossed his body from his muzzle to his clawed toes. She had not bade him to empty his burning balls, for they did indeed burn for a demon kept chaste, so he had grown increasingly restless, though content to do her bidding once soothed by the usual calming touch of her mind. That was why the other master had commanded him to go to her and violate the mare against her will in a brief moment of weakness, when she was in season. She had not miscarried or aborted, Arkan suspected, for who would be able to carry or would desire to carry a demon spawn, fire in their belly? The wolfhound master had been especially cruel and considered the orders `an act of revenge'; Arkan was clueless as to what manner evil had transpired between the two Summoners, yet he was the one to be punished for it.

``That's right,'' Gwen continued, bringing her paw to his muzzle in a swift, sharp slap. ``You're a weakling demon. I had the goodness of heart to bring you up from the pits and that was how you repaid me! I will teach you to cross me, mark my words, dragon. And then your bastard of a master can get some very special treatment, courtesy of Gwendolen.''

Baring her blunt teeth at the cowed demon, Gwen cast off her hooded cloak with a flourish, revealing a pink, lace thong and brassiere that left nothing to the imagination; her nipples and velvety pussy were shockingly visible through the sheer material. Arkan moaned and tipped forward wishfully, recalling the time that he had taken this mare... He had had not choice in the matter but he fleetingly wondered if he would fuck her again, willingly or not, if he had such opportunity.

``I don't normally wear these,'' she said by way of explanation, removing both bra and thong from her body with quick, practical movements. ``They are far too feminine for my tastes, but for yours... I think they are just right. Don't you agree?''

His eyes widened and he shook his head rapidly, grunting anxiously. She couldn't be serious! Yet she was and she manhandled his arms up and through the thin shoulder straps of the bra, fastening it around his wide, masculine chest with a nicker of charmed difficulty. The garment would undoubtedly be ruined - it was far too small for him - and the neat cups stretched flat across his pectorals. The demon tried to look away, muzzle heating up as if he had never suffered the course of a blush before, and wished to disappear back into the ground that he had emerged from.

Worse to come was the thong, which Gwen stretched up over his long legs, which were built up with muscle and oozed strength that he was unable to utilise. She yanked it up without mercy over his hips and settled the thin back piece between his rear cheeks, smirking when it dug into the outer part of his tail hole and, agonisingly, between his balls, separating them within the plump sack and bulging out over his soft cock. Huffing, Arkan blew a cloud of smoke and winced almost immediately afterwards; Gwen had poked him in the balls, her hard nail digging in for a shocking second. He shouldn't be dressed like this, shouldn't be dressed at all. The dragon closed his eyes and willed himself away, though his cock stirred at the sense of the admittedly beautiful, wicked female so close to him. He was still a male when all was said and done.

``Please stop,'' he muttered, able to talk a little as Gwen was enjoying the repulsed sounds that he made. She pretended to consider his request.

``No.''

He hung his head in defeat, unconsciously accepting whatever was to happen to him.

It will be over soon, he told himself, strengthening his mental resolve. Just hold out, take whatever she throws at you. Look at you though, a big demon whining and begging like an imp. You should be ashamed of yourself. Damn her!

``On your knees, dragon,'' she ordered, watching with pleasure as his legs buckled and he collapsed, shaking, to the required position.

End preview.

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  PAGE   \\* MERGEFORMAT  5

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