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It's a continuation of the themes from that piece, trying to capture just how different a dragon could be, and how their needs might manifest. This is probably also the closest I've ever come to the cuckoldry fetish, if you consider her motivations regarding her own species, don't expect me to do more with that though, I personally find the NTR fetish repellant.\n\nDedicated to forgefather381. This is the furry version, which might be a little better, seeing as I had to go through for another edit to swap the species, do let me know if I missed anything. Original human version here: [url=https://www.furaffinity.net/view/59466783/]https://www.furaffinity.net/view/59466783/[/url]\n\nAs always, if you have enjoyed, please consider leaving a tip with my [url=https://ko-fi.com/guiltyworkshop]Ko-fi[/url] link. Or commission me if you'd like a story of your own. Feedback appreciated", "description_bbcode_parsed": "A sequel to Draconic Instinct, following on with what became of the young man the dragoness took for her payment. It's a continuation of the themes from that piece, trying to capture just how different a dragon could be, and how their needs might manifest. This is probably also the closest I've ever come to the cuckoldry fetish, if you consider her motivations regarding her own species, don't expect me to do more with that though, I personally find the NTR fetish repellant.

Dedicated to forgefather381. This is the furry version, which might be a little better, seeing as I had to go through for another edit to swap the species, do let me know if I missed anything. Original human version here: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/59466783/

As always, if you have enjoyed, please consider leaving a tip with my Ko-fi link. Or commission me if you'd like a story of your own. Feedback appreciated", "writing": "Across the walls, the streets, and buildings of Acaladia, a shadow fell. Swift, with sweeping wings, and long tail, it circled the smooth, white stone city, enveloping rooftop verandas, and terraced gardens in shade, before flying on towards the old wizard's tower at the heart, the spoke in the centre of the sprawl.\n\nSemalaria, sapphire she-dragon, daughter of the Primordial Sea, alighted atop her modest summer lair, her preferred home for when the feminine curse crept upon her. It was an arrangement of convenience that she'd allowed the ‘lesser’ kinds to set their roots at the foot of her conquest, and pretend to have the shelter of her benevolence. She recalled the scant lodges, and farmsteads, that had come before the tower had fallen to her dominion, and it pleased her now to have the city below as one more jewel in her collection. For whatever the mortals believed, with their words, and pacts, and deals, she knew, the hive of culture below belonged to her.\n\nJust as the latest addition to her collection did.\n\nAlready, her loyal servants emerged to relieve her of her newest trophies, and ferry them to their correct places. A dozen of her most devoted, blue scaled attendants, garbed in the long bolts of rolled cloth, which had become the fashion of the land the past fifty years, exited the spacious gateway to the tower, showing their deference as they reached across her back, and beneath her wings, to secure the bags of treasure, and also a squirming package, who was wrapped prostrate across her long neck.\n\n\"Have it washed and prepared, I intend to dine in an hour,\" she commanded, and her subjects obeyed, carrying the terrified young fox, with flame red fur, down into the dragon's den.\n\n***\n\nAbject fear transfixed him, bound and boiled as he was, pinned for the dragon's pleasure on the far side of an expansive table.\n\nThe bath had been scalding, the near-silent dragonkin unrelenting in their scrubbing, perfuming, and combing. His russet and red fur had been combed, brushed, and spun, before being oiled like a pig ready for roasting. Now he was spitted by two golden eyes, pinned and transfixed, in a toga that had been bound about his lean frame, pressed by her presence into the cushions at his back.\n\n\"What a pretty little thing you are,\" the great beast mused, not addressing him, but airing her vast mind to the world. She herself, his captor, reclined across a sea of cushions, her bulk greater than two of the finest mares, with the lithe, suppleness of a panther, stalking prey. Every motion of her muscles was a ripple through the ocean of scales, such that as she lifted the artfully crafted bowl of wine to her snout, it became impossible to define where one section of her began or ended. \"Does the pretty creature have a name?\"\n\nIt took the youth more than a few moments to realise that the question was addressed to him, his small, green eyes, threatening to water as he met the piercing orbs of his abductor.\n\n\"D-dustan,\" his lips and voice were dry and cracking, cooked beneath the intensity of her look. He longed to reach for the goblet set before him, or the soft fruit on the golden plate, but didn't dare move, every fibre of his body screaming about the predator that held him transfixed.\n\nShe paused her sip, a smirk adding wickedness to her long smile. \"Your former owner has a sense of humour.\"\n\nShe did not elaborate further on what had amused her, hiding the expression in a great lap of wine, eyes never freeing them from their attention. \"Tell me about yourself, Dustan, what manner of male are you?\"\n\nDustan could only stammer out a questioning \"What?\", at her inquiry, but instead of irritation, his hesitancy brought out a bubbling chuckle from the she-wyrm.\n\n\"Drink the wine, child, and eat the grapes, I did not provide them for you to suffer from longing.\"\n\nOn command he did so, grateful and terrified, as he washed the dust from his mouth with the sharp potion, which warmed him like a glowing coal.\n\n\"Now the grapes.\"\n\nAnd he obeyed, tasting the plump flesh, which soothed his stomach, while she enjoyed the spectacle of him. What ever he had expected when his previous master had tossed him to the serpent, it had not been this.\n\nSemalaria leaned further back on her throne, her pleasure growing as she toyed with her food. His eyes never left her face, save when her talons went to pluck a morsel, or grip her bowl of wine. She had become the centre of his world, and that pleased her.\n\n\"What I mean to ask, Dustan, is what are you when you are not mucking stables, and grooming animals?\"\n\nGulping messily, the drink burning uncomfortably in his stomach, Dustan cleared his throat, and tried to keep his voice from shaking.\n\n\"W-well, y-your, uh greatness-\"\n\n\"Mistress, will suffice for now,\" she laughed, and it made the placings tinkle with her mirth. \"Mistress Semalaria.\"\n\n\"Yes, mistress. Well...\" he struggled to find a footing, feeling ever smaller as he tried to measure up to the thing before him. \"I... also sing, at the taverns, to earn a little more.\"\n\n\"Oh, a minstrel are you? Think yourself the next Mossel Emphasi perhaps?\"\n\n\"Who? Oh, um, who mistress?\"\n\nSemalaria waved aside the question, and the ghost of over a century past, sharp talons dicing air in a way that made her entertainment flinch. \"Do not concern yourself. An old plaything of mine, from before your time, child. But singing, I do appreciate a pretty song-bird, perhaps I will have you sing for me before we are done.\"\n\nShe placed a honey melon between her teeth, and popped it much as he had the grape.\n\nDustan swallowed, easily imagining his head in that gleaming ivory trap. Which only seemed to delight her more, as she watched his every motion while azure attendants refilled his cup, and placed more food in front of him. He felt like he was being fattened before slaughter.\n\nThe tod’s squirming, sweating, desperation to avoid death, made the she-wyrm smirk, the pleasant warmth of mirth pairing with the growing heat within her nethers. Sensing she'd toyed with him enough, she flowed from her nest of pillows, making her latest toy hold his breath in fear of what might follow. Oh, and he had a right to fear, she mused, as she sauntered, hips rolling, tail swaying in such a blatant seduction that it would have a male of her kind charging after her. She looked back over a wing, and summoned him.\n\n\"Come.\"\n\nSwallowing, the young vulpine struggled after, not daring to disobey, even when she shot him such a hungry look. The long length of her tail came to curl at the small of his back, tangling with his own skittish brush, and drive him to follow faster, as silk curtains parted, and he was ushered into a chamber that was as much treasury, as it was bedroom.\n\nStatues, paintings, urns filled with coins and jewels, surrounded the thick nest of bedding. What floor could be seen was a mosaic of gemstones in a relief of a turbulent sea, so vivid it looked as if it might drown him. A fraction of it represented more wealth than the simple farmhand had beheld in his entire life.\n\nBeside a central dais was a large copper bowl, from which came a thick, floral fragrance, and it was to it the dragoness directed him.\n\n\"Bathe me.\"\n\nHe blinked, looking from the scented dish to the shining wyrm, unable to comprehend, then finding himself unable to obey.\n\n\"But, um, there's no cloth, mistress. And I wouldn't... know where to... begin?\" He stammered uncertainly, his heart pounding, and a growing fire in his gut making him almost as uncomfortable as her attention.\n\nThe dragoness chuckled, stretching herself in a deep arch of her back, wings outstretching to dominate the barely adequate space.\n\n\"What a shame, you will have to use those clothes of yours. And as for how, did you not think it odd your former master spent so long teaching you how to groom his scale-bred steeds?\"\n\nDustan gulped, shaking his head in ignorance. \"I don't... I don't understand.\"\n\nBut she only crooned, \"Undress, Dustan. Take up the oil, and wipe my scales clean. I am certain you can do no harm to me.\"\n\nSlowly, trembling, the youth unwrapped the toga that her servants had bound him in, while she keenly watched more downy, oiled fur be revealed. Semalaria could not resist a lick of her lips, as her new acquisition unwrapped himself for her. Oh yes, the elf knew what she liked, she mused, admiring what must have been a terrifying masculine aspect, judging from the size of his sheath, and the pendulous weight beneath. For a mortal woman, at any rate, to her it looked about a match to one of her claws, but she’d investigate that craving later.\n\nUnaware of what it was that had the she-dragon salivating, Dustan felt goosebumps as he ruined the fine clothes in the bowl of oil, and dared approach her flank. That close to, he could almost convince himself it was one of his former master's dragon-blooded mounts, if not for her size, and the firmness of her scales.\n\nThe soaked cloth moved frictionlessly, creating a shine over the rich blue hue, tracing every contour. From the large, hard, shield scales of her sides, to the pliant half-moons at her joints, and the broad ventrals of her belly, each span he swept over, every dip and ridge, seemed to bring her further delight, as she pawed the bedding like a purring cat. The scent of oranges and flowers, mingled with the sharp smell of her earlier exertions, and that cloying, heady, musk, that hung about her hind.\n\nIn minutes Dustan felt safe enough, mesmerised by the movements he'd performed hundreds of times before, and her cooing appreciation, to progress further about his kidnapper's form. The oil made it easy, sliding the cloth from haunch to rib, shoulder to bicep, that he did not realise he had begun to rub about her neck, fingers flattening and stroking the delicate frill that ran the length of her spine. Not until his face was level with a golden eye.\n\n\"My, how comfortable you have become with your position. Are you enjoying bringing me pleasure, little fox?\"\n\nHer voice, a rumbling, honeyed avalanche, rolled over him, shaking his skin, making his pelt stand on end. He swallowed, nodding like a marionette, feeling himself respond on instinct to her. \"Yes, mistress. I'm happy to, serve you, like this. I thought you were going to... eat me,\" he tried his hand at an embarrassed chuckle, managing a dry rasp or two, as the knot in his stomach tightened.\n\nBut the dragoness licked her jaw again, \"Who said I would not,\" before yawning wide, showing a deep red tongue, a pink cavern of a maw that tumbled into blackness, and shining white teeth the size of knives. Before it closed, snapping about the arm with the still proffered rag.\n\nDustan froze in animal shock, unable to act, his brain a flame with expected pain. His eyes stared in disbelief at the two burning orbs that looked back at him, into him. But the bite didn't come, only a slithering, muscular, stroke, as her long tongue wrapped itself around his limb, and a great swallow followed. Dextrously, she pulled him in to his shoulder, the tip kissing, and licking from his fingers, to his pit, soaking the recently cleaned fur, sending an intense shudder through his core at the danger of his predicament.\n\nHead barely moving at the end of her long neck, Semalaria's body rolled to the side, displaying her belly now, with the paler, cloud grey tones, raised towards him. A fore-claw came to press against his back, dragging him inward with the motion, still her eyes did not break from his. Finally, with a steaming huff of breath, and a parting lap that went from joint, to fingertip, she relinquished his arm, intact, and drenched in her saliva.\n\n\"Continue, boy. Lower,\" she commanded, nudging him down the length of her splayed form. Lower, lower, till he was between her thighs. Rolling heat met his face, and the powerful aroma of a she-wyrm in season. Not meant for a ‘kins nose, the smell was pungent, primal, both sharp and musty, spiced and cloying. His head began to fog, dizzied, as his mind struggled to interpret the potent pheromones that had evolved to attract a drake from hundreds of miles away.\n\nAt the crux between her thighs, close to the base of her tail, a gap between two large plates yawned, and soft, pink, flesh, winked back at him, breathing hot air over him. Her intention was clear, she wished him to see it, touch it, and perhaps more.\n\n\"Oh, it seems you lost your cloth,\" she purred, a claw tip scratching gently at his scalp, \"you'll have to use your hands then. Be careful, it is quite deep, it could swallow your, arm, whole.\"\nAnother wave of nervousness flooded Dustan, as he glanced back at her face, searching for any hint of malice, but found only rapaciousness and mockery. Her eyes glinted with mischief, and her expression was beyond smug, daring him to try and deny her designs, or his own mounting curiosity.\n\nHe could not. Not just from fear, but a growing, heady, insanity at what he was doing. The great beast loomed all about him, her wings becoming a cavern that trapped him, her claws a goad should he not perform, and her scent a lure that made his entire self ache. The spittle slicked fingers traced the lower edge of the two armoured plates which protected her dragon-hood, a delicate tease that sent a jolt up the blue giant's back.\n\nSoft, silken, and moist, that first pass only encouraged Dustan to scissor his digits, opening the gap wider, allowing him to see the tight, muscular cave within. Heat poured out in thick waves, misting the air around him, so that every breath he took came from her. Gulping, the hairs across his body prickling, his fingers slid inside, and then his palm, till he was buried to the wrist, exploring the sensitive inner lining of the monstrous sex, stroking at walls so forgiving, so springy and cushioned, he could barely believe they belonged to the same creature.\n\nAbove, Semalaria sighed, feeling the stretch that a claw could never bring, deeper than she could comfortably penetrate herself without a risk of injury. Oh yes, this was what paws were clearly intended for, a natural use for those worth serving a dragoness in her time of need. She waited till her morsel was lost in her majesty, sodden forearm sinking in after the exploratory digits, before she clenched. The strong pull of her passage, made to entrap a drake in rut, dragged her plaything even deeper, making him gasp in fright, and her croon an ode to her own pleasure.\n\n\"I did warn you, little fox,\" she laughed and sighed, relaxing just a second before drawing him in again, \"careful now, or I'll devour you whole~.\"\n\nHer head rose to watch the youth struggle, and fail, to keep himself free, falling forward until his muzzle was kissed to her scales, pressed to her underside while her femininity squeezed, and rippled, and folded itself across his limb. She saw the panic in his eyes, and felt the thrill of her power over him, that even her most vulnerable place could inspire such awe and terror in him.\n\n\"Oh yes, can you feel yourself within me, little Dustan? Can you sense your hand desperately clenching inside? Go on, press your keen ear to my belly, listen to the perverseness of our actions. Try hard enough, and perhaps you will even make me roar,\" the she-dragon chuckled darkly, releasing him for just a moment, to give him space to shift his weight, to put a knee over her tail and brace properly, naked fur polishing her body.\n\nThe dragon’s scent had become a drug to him, but this, this was intoxication! She'd trapped him, with her cunt like a vice around his bicep, filling him with a sense of magnitude, of danger, of risk. Too far gone now for sanity, rationality, Dustan braced his free paw on one thigh, his back to her inwardly curling tail, the deadly cradle she made becoming an odd comfort, and all the encouragement he needed to press in again, to feel her part before his questing fist, and then enjoy the suction as he attempted a withdrawal. Meanwhile his confused cock had more than peaked from the sheath, a good measure of dusky red jutting and leaking as it dragged back and forth across the she-dragon’s hind, species be damned, eager for what his arm was getting.\n\n\"Yes, good. Give me more, wriggle those small, clever little fingers!\"\n\nChest heaving, Dustan did as commanded. Each clench and stretch pressing against untouched acres of engorged womanhood, to a lewd chorus of noises unfit for even the most lurid of whore-house.\n\n\"More!\"\n\nHe obeyed, and her response was instantaneous. Her hips rolled, and her tail pushed, forcing him to yet again bury the arm with a wet, squelching eruption, her lubricant rising to meet him, slathering his face in a viscous smear that steamed where it touched. She sang like a bird, a bass note in time with his thrusts, as his thumb caught something new, finding further means of bringing the mighty beast down into the depths of orgasm.\n\nWith a rasping bark, the dragoness bucked, sending him yelping backward in surprise, freeing his arm from confinement, letting him bare witness to something few mortals could say they'd seen. The thick folds of the dragon's sex fluttered, the pulsing tunnel convulsed, and a long, rumbling groan escaped her body, as her every scale rose, and shivered, with the pleasure that washed through her. He watched as she came from his efforts, become undone in a sprawl of blue and grey, wings and legs jittering, claws scrabbling at the bedding, and issuing a snort of boiling vapour.\n\nIt was not until Semalaria drew breath again, and raised her head to appraise him, that Dustan realised he had been holding his own, that the intensity of her climax had impressed upon him to hold still and silent, lest he break the spell that he had worked on her.\n\n\"A most, satisfactory start,\" she took another long, steadying draw of air, still feeling the tremors echoing through her, but a dragon's heat couldn't be quenched that quickly, and her gaze eventually found focus on what she had hoped to see. \"And it seems your efforts, took just long enough for the alchemist's potions to take effect.\"\n\nConfused, Dustan followed the line of her eyes, down his own sprawled body, till it was his turn to blink to clear his vision.\n\n\"What-?\" He choked, seeing not his usual pride between his legs, but a true monster that had come to take its place. Girthier, longer, veins bulging grossly down its length, the burning ache from before had solidified into a thick swelling inside his shaft, transfiguring the already intimidating prick, into a dragon-slayer of a lance, which jutted angrily from his sheath, a match for his arm and perhaps a little more.\n\n\"Did you not question the wine, my pet? Perhaps a certain sharpness of taste? But then I doubt you often drink such fine things,\" rejuvenated at the sight of his discomfort, Semalaria found her claws again, and stood on all fours, rump to him, neck turned to regard him still. \"I am told such drafts of virility are their most requested, though not in the strength I require of them. I would best hurry, if I were you, if it swells any more then you might not have a manhood at all before long.\"\n\nHe couldn't tell if her taunting was truthful, or just another game, but when he managed to look away from the swollen monster of his member, he knew exactly what was expected of him.\n\nShe'd sunk to her knees, hind presented, tail curled and slung to the side. That sizzling delta that he had been pummelling only moments ago, opened again expectantly, beckoning him forward, its depths an inviting bath in which to soothe his ache, and cure the malady she'd inflicted upon him.\n\nBut just as he reached, placed a pad on each of her muscular thighs, and prepared to do her bidding, the dextrous tail entangled him, and blocked his advance.\n\n\"Beg,\" she said simply, shifting her hips, making her slit bump against his swollen spear, \"beg for the right to fuck me. Beg your mistress, to give you permission to mount, to pretend to be worthy of my body, my warmth, my cunt.\"\n\nDustan did not hesitate, hands quivering with need, he could already feel his cock twitching in frustration, swelling painfully with the alchemical brew. \"Please, Mistress, I beg you, let me-\"\n\nBut she cut him off, laughing again, a rolling note that resonated through his chest.\n\n\"Kiss it, like your most cherished lover. Show me how you need my body, how much you desire to please me, before I let you use it for your own relief.\"\n\nHe did so, the tail allowing him to bend at the hip, the sweltering heat rising to meet his salivating features, a dripping mouth which could have taken his entire head in one gulp. He pressed his nose to the ridged opening, felt the smoothness of the pink flesh within, and lapped as if he were a beast at the watering hole.\n\nAnd she laughed, and she purred, and her tail released him.\n\n\"Mount me, my drake,\" she whispered, mocking him with the title, \"rut me, like a real male would.\"\n\nHe pulled free from his heady meal, hand closed around the length of his monstrous member, feeling the thrumming veins, and throbbing need that had his body burning with desperation. The bloated tip found the searing slot that waited for him, and he plunged it in with a groan of ecstasy that mirrored her own.\n\n\"Ooooh!\" She moaned as the thick, red, rod speared through her flesh. Though no true match for a dragon's, the altered cock was only half her pleasure. The rest, oh that came from knowing whose cock it was that delved into her folds, and what it would do for her should she demand it. She imagined the sullen faces of a dozen drakes, all desperate for the chance she squandered on such a lesser thing, such a weak thing, as the delicious morsel behind her. And it made her purr with delight, as no drake ever had.\n\nDustan’s hips bucked against her hind, sending a satisfying smack echoing around the chamber, her armoured body unhurt, but soon his skin began to bruise from the fervour with which he flung himself into the only vessel that could possibly take him now. Her tail stroked his own, wrapped about his side, guided his legs forward, made him drive deeper into the dark tunnel.\n\nShe let him take his time at first, feeling he’d earned the frenzy of lust. She enjoyed his eagerness and enthusiasm, letting the artless rut tickle and tease her over the first rises of her pleasure, before tightening her grip again, the tail slowing his advance, till a pained gasp escaped his lungs, and his shaft could only make shallow inquiries into her haven.\n\n\"Patience, child,\" she huffed, easing her grip again, \"if you finish before me, then you truly will meet your end tonight. Now, breathe, and mate me, knowing your life depends on it.\"\n\nDustan swallowed, fear now added to the growing haze of pleasure, and began to move with a slower pace, feeling every centimetre of her passage enfold him. His paws roamed her flanks, daring to rub her rump as he would a vixen’s, to stroke her body like he might a mare in his care. The fear made him careful, cautious, the pleasure made him bold, and before long he was gazing dreamily along the long span of her back, following the line of her dorsal fins, between her resting wings, to the long neck, and face, which watched him in turn.\n\n\"Good, boy, good. Now, worship me,\" she breathed, stretching her neck down to brush his chest with her muzzle, nuzzling him, almost affectionately. \"Tell me how beautiful I am, how much you desire me.\"\n\nAnd he did. With every thrust he would declare her beauty, her grace, and her might, in reverent tones, praising her as if she were a goddess, a primordial force of nature, that deserved his faith. And she purred, and crooned, relishing his every word, drinking in the flattery, feeling it stir her deeper need.\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" she hummed, in time with his steady, deep movements, \"now faster, don't disappoint me.\"\n\nDustan obeyed, more words bubbling from his muzzle, an ineloquent tumble of prayers and praises, as he sunk further and further into the pleasure of the rut. He dared to touch her face, stroke the fine scales of her jaw, feeling the power there, and knowing it could easily snap him in half. But that danger only brought him higher, made his manhood swell with the desperation to leave his mark, to do the unthinkable, to conquer the unconquerable, to bury the knot in the most powerful of beasts.\n\nThe dragoness sensed his need, felt it pulsing in her, and her hips began to buck back in turn, making his position all the more precarious, but giving him the satisfaction of delving fully with each thrust, rewarding him with a fraction of the pleasure he brought her. But she needed more, ever more, her body hungered for more.\n\n\"Do you enjoy my vent?\" she asked, voice a coo, while her insides squeezed and rippled about him. \"Do you like the way I feel, wrapped around your cock?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he shuddered, groaned, driving in harder with the tease of her quim, \"I do, mistress. I love your body. I, I need your body, mistress.\"\n\n\"Do you want to fuck me, rut me, whenever I want it, whenever I demand it of you?\" She breathed hot, billowing vapour, across his chest. \"To have me as your keeper, your owner, to be mine till your last breath?\"\n\n\"Yes!\" He sobbed, his knot was swelling, burning painfully in the open air, driving him faster, deeper, forcing her to moan and shiver as her own passions were inflamed. \"I want to be yours! Your servant, your pet, your plaything, whatever you ask, mistress, Semalaria!\"\n\nShe purred at the power she held over him, letting him grip her tighter, dig his harmless claws into her haunches to drive that lowly, base, bestial shaft, till the obscene bulge at the base brushed against her sanctum, where only another dragon should have been allowed to tread.\n\n\"Do you want to finish inside me? Do you want to sully my eggs with your seed?\" She watched his eyes widen, just as her breath became shallow, her voice a whisper, \"do you wish to tie with me, breed me?\"\n\nDustan felt his ardour boil over, no more restraint, no more fear, the very idea so intoxicatingly powerful he became nothing more than an animal. A great, yowling, yiff, ripped its way from his lungs, as his pounding hips timed their next push, and he sank to his fuzzy sheath within the cooling embrace of the only cleft that would take him. His altered cock spasmed, swelled, and pulsed inside her, swollen testes squeezing, sending ropes of white, mortal ejaculate, screaming forth in an attempt to take what should never have been theirs.\n\nSemalaria felt herself let go, felt the gentle spatter of heat within her loins, and heard her own roar echo off the stone walls around them. The body of her latest dalliance, went limp, spent and satisfied against her back, and she basked in the joy of both their coupling, and the thought of all the drakes in the world she'd just cheated of their pleasure.\n\nPerhaps he'd be successful, she smiled. Perhaps she'd have a new clutch of servants to attend her, to see to her tower and her holdings. Perhaps she'd cherish him long enough to see a new heat bloom. Perhaps she’d hire tutors to teach him to sing, teachers to sharpen his mind, make him shine, like one more stone in her collection.\n\nPerhaps...\n\nBut for now, she was sated, her hunger fed, her need quenched.\n\nWith a slow roll, she turned, caught, and folded herself about the sleeping fox, and let her dreams be pleasant, filled with riches, treasures, and music.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Across the walls, the streets, and buildings of Acaladia, a shadow fell. Swift, with sweeping wings, and long tail, it circled the smooth, white stone city, enveloping rooftop verandas, and terraced gardens in shade, before flying on towards the old wizard's tower at the heart, the spoke in the centre of the sprawl.

Semalaria, sapphire she-dragon, daughter of the Primordial Sea, alighted atop her modest summer lair, her preferred home for when the feminine curse crept upon her. It was an arrangement of convenience that she'd allowed the ‘lesser’ kinds to set their roots at the foot of her conquest, and pretend to have the shelter of her benevolence. She recalled the scant lodges, and farmsteads, that had come before the tower had fallen to her dominion, and it pleased her now to have the city below as one more jewel in her collection. For whatever the mortals believed, with their words, and pacts, and deals, she knew, the hive of culture below belonged to her.

Just as the latest addition to her collection did.

Already, her loyal servants emerged to relieve her of her newest trophies, and ferry them to their correct places. A dozen of her most devoted, blue scaled attendants, garbed in the long bolts of rolled cloth, which had become the fashion of the land the past fifty years, exited the spacious gateway to the tower, showing their deference as they reached across her back, and beneath her wings, to secure the bags of treasure, and also a squirming package, who was wrapped prostrate across her long neck.

"Have it washed and prepared, I intend to dine in an hour," she commanded, and her subjects obeyed, carrying the terrified young fox, with flame red fur, down into the dragon's den.

***

Abject fear transfixed him, bound and boiled as he was, pinned for the dragon's pleasure on the far side of an expansive table.

The bath had been scalding, the near-silent dragonkin unrelenting in their scrubbing, perfuming, and combing. His russet and red fur had been combed, brushed, and spun, before being oiled like a pig ready for roasting. Now he was spitted by two golden eyes, pinned and transfixed, in a toga that had been bound about his lean frame, pressed by her presence into the cushions at his back.

"What a pretty little thing you are," the great beast mused, not addressing him, but airing her vast mind to the world. She herself, his captor, reclined across a sea of cushions, her bulk greater than two of the finest mares, with the lithe, suppleness of a panther, stalking prey. Every motion of her muscles was a ripple through the ocean of scales, such that as she lifted the artfully crafted bowl of wine to her snout, it became impossible to define where one section of her began or ended. "Does the pretty creature have a name?"

It took the youth more than a few moments to realise that the question was addressed to him, his small, green eyes, threatening to water as he met the piercing orbs of his abductor.

"D-dustan," his lips and voice were dry and cracking, cooked beneath the intensity of her look. He longed to reach for the goblet set before him, or the soft fruit on the golden plate, but didn't dare move, every fibre of his body screaming about the predator that held him transfixed.

She paused her sip, a smirk adding wickedness to her long smile. "Your former owner has a sense of humour."

She did not elaborate further on what had amused her, hiding the expression in a great lap of wine, eyes never freeing them from their attention. "Tell me about yourself, Dustan, what manner of male are you?"

Dustan could only stammer out a questioning "What?", at her inquiry, but instead of irritation, his hesitancy brought out a bubbling chuckle from the she-wyrm.

"Drink the wine, child, and eat the grapes, I did not provide them for you to suffer from longing."

On command he did so, grateful and terrified, as he washed the dust from his mouth with the sharp potion, which warmed him like a glowing coal.

"Now the grapes."

And he obeyed, tasting the plump flesh, which soothed his stomach, while she enjoyed the spectacle of him. What ever he had expected when his previous master had tossed him to the serpent, it had not been this.

Semalaria leaned further back on her throne, her pleasure growing as she toyed with her food. His eyes never left her face, save when her talons went to pluck a morsel, or grip her bowl of wine. She had become the centre of his world, and that pleased her.

"What I mean to ask, Dustan, is what are you when you are not mucking stables, and grooming animals?"

Gulping messily, the drink burning uncomfortably in his stomach, Dustan cleared his throat, and tried to keep his voice from shaking.

"W-well, y-your, uh greatness-"

"Mistress, will suffice for now," she laughed, and it made the placings tinkle with her mirth. "Mistress Semalaria."

"Yes, mistress. Well..." he struggled to find a footing, feeling ever smaller as he tried to measure up to the thing before him. "I... also sing, at the taverns, to earn a little more."

"Oh, a minstrel are you? Think yourself the next Mossel Emphasi perhaps?"

"Who? Oh, um, who mistress?"

Semalaria waved aside the question, and the ghost of over a century past, sharp talons dicing air in a way that made her entertainment flinch. "Do not concern yourself. An old plaything of mine, from before your time, child. But singing, I do appreciate a pretty song-bird, perhaps I will have you sing for me before we are done."

She placed a honey melon between her teeth, and popped it much as he had the grape.

Dustan swallowed, easily imagining his head in that gleaming ivory trap. Which only seemed to delight her more, as she watched his every motion while azure attendants refilled his cup, and placed more food in front of him. He felt like he was being fattened before slaughter.

The tod’s squirming, sweating, desperation to avoid death, made the she-wyrm smirk, the pleasant warmth of mirth pairing with the growing heat within her nethers. Sensing she'd toyed with him enough, she flowed from her nest of pillows, making her latest toy hold his breath in fear of what might follow. Oh, and he had a right to fear, she mused, as she sauntered, hips rolling, tail swaying in such a blatant seduction that it would have a male of her kind charging after her. She looked back over a wing, and summoned him.

"Come."

Swallowing, the young vulpine struggled after, not daring to disobey, even when she shot him such a hungry look. The long length of her tail came to curl at the small of his back, tangling with his own skittish brush, and drive him to follow faster, as silk curtains parted, and he was ushered into a chamber that was as much treasury, as it was bedroom.

Statues, paintings, urns filled with coins and jewels, surrounded the thick nest of bedding. What floor could be seen was a mosaic of gemstones in a relief of a turbulent sea, so vivid it looked as if it might drown him. A fraction of it represented more wealth than the simple farmhand had beheld in his entire life.

Beside a central dais was a large copper bowl, from which came a thick, floral fragrance, and it was to it the dragoness directed him.

"Bathe me."

He blinked, looking from the scented dish to the shining wyrm, unable to comprehend, then finding himself unable to obey.

"But, um, there's no cloth, mistress. And I wouldn't... know where to... begin?" He stammered uncertainly, his heart pounding, and a growing fire in his gut making him almost as uncomfortable as her attention.

The dragoness chuckled, stretching herself in a deep arch of her back, wings outstretching to dominate the barely adequate space.

"What a shame, you will have to use those clothes of yours. And as for how, did you not think it odd your former master spent so long teaching you how to groom his scale-bred steeds?"

Dustan gulped, shaking his head in ignorance. "I don't... I don't understand."

But she only crooned, "Undress, Dustan. Take up the oil, and wipe my scales clean. I am certain you can do no harm to me."

Slowly, trembling, the youth unwrapped the toga that her servants had bound him in, while she keenly watched more downy, oiled fur be revealed. Semalaria could not resist a lick of her lips, as her new acquisition unwrapped himself for her. Oh yes, the elf knew what she liked, she mused, admiring what must have been a terrifying masculine aspect, judging from the size of his sheath, and the pendulous weight beneath. For a mortal woman, at any rate, to her it looked about a match to one of her claws, but she’d investigate that craving later.

Unaware of what it was that had the she-dragon salivating, Dustan felt goosebumps as he ruined the fine clothes in the bowl of oil, and dared approach her flank. That close to, he could almost convince himself it was one of his former master's dragon-blooded mounts, if not for her size, and the firmness of her scales.

The soaked cloth moved frictionlessly, creating a shine over the rich blue hue, tracing every contour. From the large, hard, shield scales of her sides, to the pliant half-moons at her joints, and the broad ventrals of her belly, each span he swept over, every dip and ridge, seemed to bring her further delight, as she pawed the bedding like a purring cat. The scent of oranges and flowers, mingled with the sharp smell of her earlier exertions, and that cloying, heady, musk, that hung about her hind.

In minutes Dustan felt safe enough, mesmerised by the movements he'd performed hundreds of times before, and her cooing appreciation, to progress further about his kidnapper's form. The oil made it easy, sliding the cloth from haunch to rib, shoulder to bicep, that he did not realise he had begun to rub about her neck, fingers flattening and stroking the delicate frill that ran the length of her spine. Not until his face was level with a golden eye.

"My, how comfortable you have become with your position. Are you enjoying bringing me pleasure, little fox?"

Her voice, a rumbling, honeyed avalanche, rolled over him, shaking his skin, making his pelt stand on end. He swallowed, nodding like a marionette, feeling himself respond on instinct to her. "Yes, mistress. I'm happy to, serve you, like this. I thought you were going to... eat me," he tried his hand at an embarrassed chuckle, managing a dry rasp or two, as the knot in his stomach tightened.

But the dragoness licked her jaw again, "Who said I would not," before yawning wide, showing a deep red tongue, a pink cavern of a maw that tumbled into blackness, and shining white teeth the size of knives. Before it closed, snapping about the arm with the still proffered rag.

Dustan froze in animal shock, unable to act, his brain a flame with expected pain. His eyes stared in disbelief at the two burning orbs that looked back at him, into him. But the bite didn't come, only a slithering, muscular, stroke, as her long tongue wrapped itself around his limb, and a great swallow followed. Dextrously, she pulled him in to his shoulder, the tip kissing, and licking from his fingers, to his pit, soaking the recently cleaned fur, sending an intense shudder through his core at the danger of his predicament.

Head barely moving at the end of her long neck, Semalaria's body rolled to the side, displaying her belly now, with the paler, cloud grey tones, raised towards him. A fore-claw came to press against his back, dragging him inward with the motion, still her eyes did not break from his. Finally, with a steaming huff of breath, and a parting lap that went from joint, to fingertip, she relinquished his arm, intact, and drenched in her saliva.

"Continue, boy. Lower," she commanded, nudging him down the length of her splayed form. Lower, lower, till he was between her thighs. Rolling heat met his face, and the powerful aroma of a she-wyrm in season. Not meant for a ‘kins nose, the smell was pungent, primal, both sharp and musty, spiced and cloying. His head began to fog, dizzied, as his mind struggled to interpret the potent pheromones that had evolved to attract a drake from hundreds of miles away.

At the crux between her thighs, close to the base of her tail, a gap between two large plates yawned, and soft, pink, flesh, winked back at him, breathing hot air over him. Her intention was clear, she wished him to see it, touch it, and perhaps more.

"Oh, it seems you lost your cloth," she purred, a claw tip scratching gently at his scalp, "you'll have to use your hands then. Be careful, it is quite deep, it could swallow your, arm, whole."
Another wave of nervousness flooded Dustan, as he glanced back at her face, searching for any hint of malice, but found only rapaciousness and mockery. Her eyes glinted with mischief, and her expression was beyond smug, daring him to try and deny her designs, or his own mounting curiosity.

He could not. Not just from fear, but a growing, heady, insanity at what he was doing. The great beast loomed all about him, her wings becoming a cavern that trapped him, her claws a goad should he not perform, and her scent a lure that made his entire self ache. The spittle slicked fingers traced the lower edge of the two armoured plates which protected her dragon-hood, a delicate tease that sent a jolt up the blue giant's back.

Soft, silken, and moist, that first pass only encouraged Dustan to scissor his digits, opening the gap wider, allowing him to see the tight, muscular cave within. Heat poured out in thick waves, misting the air around him, so that every breath he took came from her. Gulping, the hairs across his body prickling, his fingers slid inside, and then his palm, till he was buried to the wrist, exploring the sensitive inner lining of the monstrous sex, stroking at walls so forgiving, so springy and cushioned, he could barely believe they belonged to the same creature.

Above, Semalaria sighed, feeling the stretch that a claw could never bring, deeper than she could comfortably penetrate herself without a risk of injury. Oh yes, this was what paws were clearly intended for, a natural use for those worth serving a dragoness in her time of need. She waited till her morsel was lost in her majesty, sodden forearm sinking in after the exploratory digits, before she clenched. The strong pull of her passage, made to entrap a drake in rut, dragged her plaything even deeper, making him gasp in fright, and her croon an ode to her own pleasure.

"I did warn you, little fox," she laughed and sighed, relaxing just a second before drawing him in again, "careful now, or I'll devour you whole~."

Her head rose to watch the youth struggle, and fail, to keep himself free, falling forward until his muzzle was kissed to her scales, pressed to her underside while her femininity squeezed, and rippled, and folded itself across his limb. She saw the panic in his eyes, and felt the thrill of her power over him, that even her most vulnerable place could inspire such awe and terror in him.

"Oh yes, can you feel yourself within me, little Dustan? Can you sense your hand desperately clenching inside? Go on, press your keen ear to my belly, listen to the perverseness of our actions. Try hard enough, and perhaps you will even make me roar," the she-dragon chuckled darkly, releasing him for just a moment, to give him space to shift his weight, to put a knee over her tail and brace properly, naked fur polishing her body.

The dragon’s scent had become a drug to him, but this, this was intoxication! She'd trapped him, with her cunt like a vice around his bicep, filling him with a sense of magnitude, of danger, of risk. Too far gone now for sanity, rationality, Dustan braced his free paw on one thigh, his back to her inwardly curling tail, the deadly cradle she made becoming an odd comfort, and all the encouragement he needed to press in again, to feel her part before his questing fist, and then enjoy the suction as he attempted a withdrawal. Meanwhile his confused cock had more than peaked from the sheath, a good measure of dusky red jutting and leaking as it dragged back and forth across the she-dragon’s hind, species be damned, eager for what his arm was getting.

"Yes, good. Give me more, wriggle those small, clever little fingers!"

Chest heaving, Dustan did as commanded. Each clench and stretch pressing against untouched acres of engorged womanhood, to a lewd chorus of noises unfit for even the most lurid of whore-house.

"More!"

He obeyed, and her response was instantaneous. Her hips rolled, and her tail pushed, forcing him to yet again bury the arm with a wet, squelching eruption, her lubricant rising to meet him, slathering his face in a viscous smear that steamed where it touched. She sang like a bird, a bass note in time with his thrusts, as his thumb caught something new, finding further means of bringing the mighty beast down into the depths of orgasm.

With a rasping bark, the dragoness bucked, sending him yelping backward in surprise, freeing his arm from confinement, letting him bare witness to something few mortals could say they'd seen. The thick folds of the dragon's sex fluttered, the pulsing tunnel convulsed, and a long, rumbling groan escaped her body, as her every scale rose, and shivered, with the pleasure that washed through her. He watched as she came from his efforts, become undone in a sprawl of blue and grey, wings and legs jittering, claws scrabbling at the bedding, and issuing a snort of boiling vapour.

It was not until Semalaria drew breath again, and raised her head to appraise him, that Dustan realised he had been holding his own, that the intensity of her climax had impressed upon him to hold still and silent, lest he break the spell that he had worked on her.

"A most, satisfactory start," she took another long, steadying draw of air, still feeling the tremors echoing through her, but a dragon's heat couldn't be quenched that quickly, and her gaze eventually found focus on what she had hoped to see. "And it seems your efforts, took just long enough for the alchemist's potions to take effect."

Confused, Dustan followed the line of her eyes, down his own sprawled body, till it was his turn to blink to clear his vision.

"What-?" He choked, seeing not his usual pride between his legs, but a true monster that had come to take its place. Girthier, longer, veins bulging grossly down its length, the burning ache from before had solidified into a thick swelling inside his shaft, transfiguring the already intimidating prick, into a dragon-slayer of a lance, which jutted angrily from his sheath, a match for his arm and perhaps a little more.

"Did you not question the wine, my pet? Perhaps a certain sharpness of taste? But then I doubt you often drink such fine things," rejuvenated at the sight of his discomfort, Semalaria found her claws again, and stood on all fours, rump to him, neck turned to regard him still. "I am told such drafts of virility are their most requested, though not in the strength I require of them. I would best hurry, if I were you, if it swells any more then you might not have a manhood at all before long."

He couldn't tell if her taunting was truthful, or just another game, but when he managed to look away from the swollen monster of his member, he knew exactly what was expected of him.

She'd sunk to her knees, hind presented, tail curled and slung to the side. That sizzling delta that he had been pummelling only moments ago, opened again expectantly, beckoning him forward, its depths an inviting bath in which to soothe his ache, and cure the malady she'd inflicted upon him.

But just as he reached, placed a pad on each of her muscular thighs, and prepared to do her bidding, the dextrous tail entangled him, and blocked his advance.

"Beg," she said simply, shifting her hips, making her slit bump against his swollen spear, "beg for the right to fuck me. Beg your mistress, to give you permission to mount, to pretend to be worthy of my body, my warmth, my cunt."

Dustan did not hesitate, hands quivering with need, he could already feel his cock twitching in frustration, swelling painfully with the alchemical brew. "Please, Mistress, I beg you, let me-"

But she cut him off, laughing again, a rolling note that resonated through his chest.

"Kiss it, like your most cherished lover. Show me how you need my body, how much you desire to please me, before I let you use it for your own relief."

He did so, the tail allowing him to bend at the hip, the sweltering heat rising to meet his salivating features, a dripping mouth which could have taken his entire head in one gulp. He pressed his nose to the ridged opening, felt the smoothness of the pink flesh within, and lapped as if he were a beast at the watering hole.

And she laughed, and she purred, and her tail released him.

"Mount me, my drake," she whispered, mocking him with the title, "rut me, like a real male would."

He pulled free from his heady meal, hand closed around the length of his monstrous member, feeling the thrumming veins, and throbbing need that had his body burning with desperation. The bloated tip found the searing slot that waited for him, and he plunged it in with a groan of ecstasy that mirrored her own.

"Ooooh!" She moaned as the thick, red, rod speared through her flesh. Though no true match for a dragon's, the altered cock was only half her pleasure. The rest, oh that came from knowing whose cock it was that delved into her folds, and what it would do for her should she demand it. She imagined the sullen faces of a dozen drakes, all desperate for the chance she squandered on such a lesser thing, such a weak thing, as the delicious morsel behind her. And it made her purr with delight, as no drake ever had.

Dustan’s hips bucked against her hind, sending a satisfying smack echoing around the chamber, her armoured body unhurt, but soon his skin began to bruise from the fervour with which he flung himself into the only vessel that could possibly take him now. Her tail stroked his own, wrapped about his side, guided his legs forward, made him drive deeper into the dark tunnel.

She let him take his time at first, feeling he’d earned the frenzy of lust. She enjoyed his eagerness and enthusiasm, letting the artless rut tickle and tease her over the first rises of her pleasure, before tightening her grip again, the tail slowing his advance, till a pained gasp escaped his lungs, and his shaft could only make shallow inquiries into her haven.

"Patience, child," she huffed, easing her grip again, "if you finish before me, then you truly will meet your end tonight. Now, breathe, and mate me, knowing your life depends on it."

Dustan swallowed, fear now added to the growing haze of pleasure, and began to move with a slower pace, feeling every centimetre of her passage enfold him. His paws roamed her flanks, daring to rub her rump as he would a vixen’s, to stroke her body like he might a mare in his care. The fear made him careful, cautious, the pleasure made him bold, and before long he was gazing dreamily along the long span of her back, following the line of her dorsal fins, between her resting wings, to the long neck, and face, which watched him in turn.

"Good, boy, good. Now, worship me," she breathed, stretching her neck down to brush his chest with her muzzle, nuzzling him, almost affectionately. "Tell me how beautiful I am, how much you desire me."

And he did. With every thrust he would declare her beauty, her grace, and her might, in reverent tones, praising her as if she were a goddess, a primordial force of nature, that deserved his faith. And she purred, and crooned, relishing his every word, drinking in the flattery, feeling it stir her deeper need.

"Yes, yes," she hummed, in time with his steady, deep movements, "now faster, don't disappoint me."

Dustan obeyed, more words bubbling from his muzzle, an ineloquent tumble of prayers and praises, as he sunk further and further into the pleasure of the rut. He dared to touch her face, stroke the fine scales of her jaw, feeling the power there, and knowing it could easily snap him in half. But that danger only brought him higher, made his manhood swell with the desperation to leave his mark, to do the unthinkable, to conquer the unconquerable, to bury the knot in the most powerful of beasts.

The dragoness sensed his need, felt it pulsing in her, and her hips began to buck back in turn, making his position all the more precarious, but giving him the satisfaction of delving fully with each thrust, rewarding him with a fraction of the pleasure he brought her. But she needed more, ever more, her body hungered for more.

"Do you enjoy my vent?" she asked, voice a coo, while her insides squeezed and rippled about him. "Do you like the way I feel, wrapped around your cock?"

"Yes," he shuddered, groaned, driving in harder with the tease of her quim, "I do, mistress. I love your body. I, I need your body, mistress."

"Do you want to fuck me, rut me, whenever I want it, whenever I demand it of you?" She breathed hot, billowing vapour, across his chest. "To have me as your keeper, your owner, to be mine till your last breath?"

"Yes!" He sobbed, his knot was swelling, burning painfully in the open air, driving him faster, deeper, forcing her to moan and shiver as her own passions were inflamed. "I want to be yours! Your servant, your pet, your plaything, whatever you ask, mistress, Semalaria!"

She purred at the power she held over him, letting him grip her tighter, dig his harmless claws into her haunches to drive that lowly, base, bestial shaft, till the obscene bulge at the base brushed against her sanctum, where only another dragon should have been allowed to tread.

"Do you want to finish inside me? Do you want to sully my eggs with your seed?" She watched his eyes widen, just as her breath became shallow, her voice a whisper, "do you wish to tie with me, breed me?"

Dustan felt his ardour boil over, no more restraint, no more fear, the very idea so intoxicatingly powerful he became nothing more than an animal. A great, yowling, yiff, ripped its way from his lungs, as his pounding hips timed their next push, and he sank to his fuzzy sheath within the cooling embrace of the only cleft that would take him. His altered cock spasmed, swelled, and pulsed inside her, swollen testes squeezing, sending ropes of white, mortal ejaculate, screaming forth in an attempt to take what should never have been theirs.

Semalaria felt herself let go, felt the gentle spatter of heat within her loins, and heard her own roar echo off the stone walls around them. The body of her latest dalliance, went limp, spent and satisfied against her back, and she basked in the joy of both their coupling, and the thought of all the drakes in the world she'd just cheated of their pleasure.

Perhaps he'd be successful, she smiled. Perhaps she'd have a new clutch of servants to attend her, to see to her tower and her holdings. Perhaps she'd cherish him long enough to see a new heat bloom. Perhaps she’d hire tutors to teach him to sing, teachers to sharpen his mind, make him shine, like one more stone in her collection.

Perhaps...

But for now, she was sated, her hunger fed, her need quenched.

With a slow roll, she turned, caught, and folded herself about the sleeping fox, and let her dreams be pleasant, filled with riches, treasures, and music.", "pools_count": 2, "title": "Draconic Greed - fur version", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/rtf", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "862" }