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I uh... can't really excuse some of what went into this. I'm not usually one for feet, but I just got to thinking about how a regular sized man would pleasure a dragon sized dragon. Also, I've always wanted my own dirty bard character, and I dropped mention of one in the previous story, so I thought I'd make him a real thing. I've always loved Arabian fairy tales, and tried to make the opening a little like the style of how I remembered the ones from my childhood, hopefully it works for people.\n\nThis is the Furry version, if you preffer to see the human one, check it out on [url=https://www.furaffinity.net/view/60190052/]FurAffinity[/url], or [url=https://www.sofurry.com/view/2233942#775048770]SoFurry[/url].\n\nI know it's not really the best fit for an Arabian stand in, but for some reason when I think Furry Caliphate, I think Jackals. If anyone from the middle east or Arabian peninsula reads this, what do you think would be your general animal stand in? I'd have said Horse, but I'm probably wrong.\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": "Please help tag this one, I have no idea what half these fetishes should be categorised as.

Much delayed, but finally done, making my Draconic series a trilogy. I uh... can't really excuse some of what went into this. I'm not usually one for feet, but I just got to thinking about how a regular sized man would pleasure a dragon sized dragon. Also, I've always wanted my own dirty bard character, and I dropped mention of one in the previous story, so I thought I'd make him a real thing. I've always loved Arabian fairy tales, and tried to make the opening a little like the style of how I remembered the ones from my childhood, hopefully it works for people.

This is the Furry version, if you preffer to see the human one, check it out on FurAffinity, or SoFurry.

I know it's not really the best fit for an Arabian stand in, but for some reason when I think Furry Caliphate, I think Jackals. If anyone from the middle east or Arabian peninsula reads this, what do you think would be your general animal stand in? I'd have said Horse, but I'm probably wrong.

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": "\"And so it was that on the thirteenth moon, in the thirty-eighth year of the fourth tyrant of Adasam-\"\n\nA battered sallet helmet bounced across the icy floor, skidding to a halt at the foot of the conveniently person-sized, floor-standing, icicle.\n\nThe figure behind the frozen tooth of ice, sighed, licked his pencil, and continued, \"that Sir Gwenvarad... tragically met his end, at the...\". A careful toe nudged the helmet, freeing the grizzle contents to tumble like a nut across the floor, \"... wicked claws of the dreaded ice Serpent, Enarana Amagi, the scourge of Rasahan, Terror of Barhin, and-\"\n\n\"And Serpent queen of the Yanuk tribes,\" a puff of frost misted the whiskers of the greying jackal, a snort from the long, crystal encrusted jaw, of the white scaled wyrm. Every scale a pearl, her eyes clear and shining as diamonds, the hooked bill of the tundra dragon loomed above, and exhaled another plume of powder to settle on the parchment. \"And soon to be owner of a fine new statue to decorate my frozen halls. Care to stand to meet your demise? Or would you prefer to face eternity on your knees?\"\n\nMossel Emphasi, chilled to his core, was not one to rush, however. While he would have preferred his chronicling of events to have gone without notice, it would not be the first time he would have extricated himself from a precarious situation. Thus was the struggle of the licensed voyeur.\n\n\"A moment, your great majesty,\" he smoothly slid to the tongue of Drakes and Wyrmkind, always best to both wrong-foot, and be polite, before one's potential demise. He tucked his prized journal away in the breast pocket of his travel coat, and slid the pencil to join its fellows on the mirrored side, before rising, dusting himself, and bowing to the mighty she-beast. \"Humblest apologies to yourself, Lady Enarana Amagi, I did not wish to intrude upon you while you were engaged in a personal affair.\"\n\n\"By which you mean my attempted assassination,\" she pawed the rocky ground, though was quietly impressed by the tan-and-black canine’s mastery of the draconic language, even if he could not manage the throaty rumbles needed for certain sounds. \"While your politeness is appreciated, little murderer, I'd like to move along to ending your life. Please take the pose you'd like to be remembered in, the cold embrace will be quite quick.\"\n\nThe jackal’s narrow muzzle gave a dramatic sigh, before he straightened his jacket, and adjusted his fur, putting on a show of getting ready for his doom. \"A pity, and a loss. For you and the world, your ladyship. There is much I can offer you but... do what you must, I am sure you have alternatives to my services in your frozen palace.\"\n\nThe confidence, the smoothness, the sheer, Arrogance, of the male, why, it was positively draconic. It gave the she-wyrm pause, her lungs ready to turn the intruder into a new ice-sculpture, but for the curiosity that now plagued her. Curiosity, and greed, a dragon did not amass a hoard for her nest if she was not canny to opportunities.\n\n\"Services, mortal?\" the held breath came in a dissipating cloud of crystals, rimming her potential new decoration in white, \"what need have I of a hired blade, who skulks and begs about their betters?\"\n\nCorners of his maw twitching in a smile, the great Mossel merely bowed again, \"Your ladyship, I am no sell-sword. I am a chronicler, tale turner, song spinner, and a great lover of all that is noble in the land. If nothing else, it would be worth postponing my death, for the story I could weave out of this encounter. Or perhaps the entertainment I could offer you, a novelty I am sure, given your remote choice of location.\"\n\nHe knew he had her hooked, that gleam in a dragon's eye was unmistakable. It was hunger, and temptation. Any creature of intellect would quick become bored with a humble existence of survival, and would snap up the chance for entertainment. And Mossel Emphasi had penned the book on entertaining a dragoness.\n\nEnarana, licked her snout. \"Perhaps, we can stay your execution. At least until you have repaid me for my troubles, mortal.\"\n\nMossel bowed low, \"You have my gratitude, O great Lady of the Tundra. My name is Mossel Emphasi, solo grandiloquent, biographer to the courts of the Caliph of Shamsan, and previous consort to the Lady Semelaria of the Primordial Sea. I am at your disposal for whatever amusement you may desire.\"\n\n***\n\n\"- so it was when the egg did hatch, what emerged was not a noble dragon, but the wicked eye of a basilisk. And so, *Clap*, the wicked empress was turned to stone, and the tyranny of her reign, was ended.\" With a flourish the tale did as well, and the great Mossel bowed his head to his audience of one. Enarana's gemstone eyes glittered in the half-light, enraptured by the telling, so much so she had quite forgotten the intruder's origin, until the moment the last words left his lips.\n\n\"Amusing. Pride, trickery, the hubris of mortals thinking to tame a dragon for their own ends. You tell the story well. Do you have another?\" the wintry wyrm huffed, fore limbs crossed, tail swaying across the floor as her composure slipped.\n\n\"A thousand and one of them, your ladyship,\" he boasted, with only a small exaggeration, \"which I would be most honoured to share with you. Perhaps we might retire to your inner chambers, and perhaps enjoy them over some wine?\"\n\n***\n\n\"- he became so infuriated by the threats about destiny, he swallowed the hero whole. But as the indignant chosen one kicked, and thrashed, he became stuck within the demon's throat like a fish bone! So in the end, the hero did fulfil the prophecy, even if it was a less dignified end than was anticipated.\"\n\nEnarana laughed softly, eyes heavy, though still glimmering in the pale light that lit her inner lair. \"Oh that is a good one, I had not heard such exploits before.\" She yawned widely, shining teeth casting reflected motes about the chamber, where she now lay on her side atop a mound of pillaged bedding, tapestries, and furs. A large barrel of plum brandy, taken as tribute, had been breached, and over the course of the last two hours had slowly emptied. \"You have been true to your promises, Mossel. It would have been a waste to see you become a sculpture in my collection. But I tire of stories now, what else can you do for me?\"\n\nStifling a yawn himself, the jackal stretched and bowed to his host. \"Oh yes, great mistress. Though I see you are worn after your long day of labour. Perhaps you would prefer to avail yourself of another of my talents, one will ensure you rest better than you have in decades.\"\n\nThe wicked gleam was back, Enarana licking her snout at the prospect of greater delights. \"Oh? A dangerous claim, and when you were so close to earning your freedom. What is this talent of yours?\"\n\n\"The rarest, and greatest, one such as I can learn,\" he said with a smile, and despite the chill of the air, began to unbutton his coat and the silk shirt beneath. The display of his half-naked fur might not have done much for her ardour, but it certainly captured her attention. \"I was honoured to study it at the side of a powerful sapphire Dragoness the ways by which even a humble ‘kin as I, can tend the aches, and sooth the body of so noble a being as yourself, your ladyship.\"\n\nThe she-dragon chuckled, a deep sound that reverberated in her chest like an avalanche. \"I have heard such claims before, of brave and foolish males, who think to woo a dragon as they might a naive female of their own kind. Why should I believe that you, so humble a morsel as you claim to be, can stand up to such a proud boast?\"\n\nHe stepped closer, arms and chest bared, a charcoal coat decorating a body kept well over years, certain that the great beast would wish to test his skills if nothing else. \"Then let me prove it to you, your ladyship. If you permit me to have but one of your feet, I shall make every scale and sinew upon it dance and sing as if it was fresh from your egg.\"\n\nPerhaps it was the effects of the brandy, perhaps it was the lateness of the hour, or perhaps it was merely that no-one had ever offered such things before. Whichever it was, Enarana chuffed out a sigh, and extended her off-foreleg towards the desert dog, with his dark back and time-bleached face. \"Have at it then, mortal. But do not expect any mercy if I am disappointed.\"\n\nThe only reply he made was a gentle hum, as he sat crossed legged before her limb, and pulled it into his lap as one might seat a cat. She watched as he held her foot in his paws, rubbing firmly across the pads with strong pressure from his thumbs, while his smaller fingers hooked themselves between her talons to stroke the softer webbing that joined them. It was a practised, determined touch, that worked heat beneath her scales, and stretched cramped muscles she did not realise she had. It sent shivers up her spine, the pale blue mane there shaking and tossing, while her toes curled of their own accord, or at his command.\n\nEnarana could not recall that any had touched her in such a way, and it seemed almost improper for one so small and weak as the jackal to be the first, and that it did indeed meet every aspect of his boasting. He worked his way from her heel to her talons, working deep into the joints, shocking her almost to the point of ending his life, when a sudden tug caused a digit to crack as if broken, only for relief to flow up her limb like a cool tide. He repeated it for each, and by the last she was ashamed to admit that she gasped and panted like an animal.\n\n\"Does your humble servant please you, Mistress Enarana?\" Mossel murmured, watching the great beast squirm and moan before him. Her wings rustled against the furs, her tail twitching.\n\n\"Hahhhh, more...\" she groaned, eyes half-lidded in bliss. \"More, and do not stop until I say so.\"\n\nIt was then that he began to work up her leg, fingers darting, small claws lifting her toughest scales the fraction they needed for the flesh beneath to breathe. From wrist to elbow, then elbow to shoulder, Mossel worked her body as if he knew it intimately. Every ache, every cramp, every old wound that burned in the cold, was shooed away like so many gnats. Her talons flexed against the bedding, while she panted and grunted, twisting like a child in the sweetest of dreams. Soon the inner chambers echoed with the sounds of pleasure, but he seemed not to notice, intent only on his task.\n\n\"Perhaps you would appreciate, more advanced techniques?\" he inquired, having traversed her form from tip to tip, and returning to her paw to knead and press once more.\n\nShe blinked back into awareness, dizzied by the delights performed upon her. \"And what further talents can you offer, that have not already impressed me, Mossel Emphasi?\"\n\nHe chuckled softly, and rose to meet her lowered brow, not commenting on the smell of liquor carried in her breath. \"Could I humble ask you turn, and raise your belly upwards? There are parts of you I am sure you wish treated as well as they deserve, ones no Drake can appreciate as thoroughly as I.\"\n\nEnarana was a serpent of experience, she knew the words were leading to something scandalous. But still, her curiosity was piqued. She shuffled herself, rolling to expose her broad, ventral scales to the cavern ceiling, placating her scolding conscience with thoughts of how she could dispose of him should the embarrassment prove too great. So she only gave a half complaint as she watched the small male unbuckle his belt, and divest himself of the last of his clothing. He was as well-kept below as above, middle age staved off by lifestyle, and she noted he possessed a prideful pair of stones and bestial sheath, perhaps slightly greater than would be natural for his kind.\n\n\"I assure you, great lady, that this is for your comfort,\" Mossel promised, as he tossed a leg over her tail, and lowered his now naked front to her undercarriage. \"You would not wish for my rough travel clothes to mar your perfect scales. And for this next method, I will require my legs, as much as my arms, to please you.\"\n\nShe bristled, but it was too late. He was already pressing his well groomed fur against her cool belly, his strong paws gripping the softening scales around her abdomen. His head rested on her lowermost rib, and his fingers played upwards, till at last they reached the pits beneath her fore-legs. The sensitive half-moon scales inside the joints tickled where he touched, the claws doing things that seemed unnatural as they raked and pinched, and pulled. But that was nothing to what his feet were doing.\n\nKnees now digging in for purchase, Mossel used his toes to tease the rim of a particular pair of plates, ones which were marginally warmer than the rest of her chill body, where a bead of cooling dew told him all he needed to know. Deftly, before her complaint could come, he hooked the toes of one foot below the protective cover, and brought the other to slip into the soft paradise beyond.\n\nThe dragoness belched frost in shock, too stunned by the suddenness to reproach the transgression, as warm, mammalian meat, slid into her most sacred place. By the angle it wasn't deep, but the way those leathery little beans rubbed, tickled, and spread her vent open, was such a novelty that she trembled as he worked. Hands still not idle, the canine’s whole body became a tool for her ruination, his arms pressing her ribs, his chest warming her belly, and his legs daring to tease her tender spots. And all Enarana could do, was imagine what he would do next.\n\nSeeing her approval, Mossel slid his way down the great wyrm's length, fingers trailing, toes pushing, till he sat astride her tail, feet still playing with the drooling, winking, cerulean sex. The blue walls fluttered, a moist cave that was open for an intrepid explorer, and he was more than willing to map its depths.\n\n\"Well, Lady Enarana,\" he chuckled, the she-dragon a picture of capitulation at his masterful technique, \"How does your humble servant please you?\"\n\nShe licked her snout, tasting her own lust on the air. \"You... fooled me well, mortal. Do not think this changes anything between us. I am still a fearsome and powerful dragoness, and you are but a flea upon my hide.\"\n\n\"Of course, your ladyship,\" Mossel rolled his pads across her tender rim, feeling her melt across his hocks, \"You are as mighty and ferocious as the greatest of your kind, this is merely my tribute to your glory. Speaking there of, how would you best like me to tend your, Aches, next? My paws, my arms, my legs, or perhaps, something else?\"\n\nThe subtle emphasis on that last part was enough to get the dragon's attention. Her lusts were quite stirred, and she could feel her instincts rise to an incongruous simmer beneath her ice-rimmed hide. She snorted in annoyance, and willed herself to relax beneath his heat. \"Toy with me no more. You have permission, now do not make me regret it.\"\n\n\"As you wish, mistress,\" the victorious bard smirked, footpaws rubbing back and forth still to stir the moist cauldron to a frothing boil, \"Then let us begin a true, deep, tending to your needs~.\" And before any reconsideration could pass, Mossel let his feet fall to either side of her tail, and his now full, and turgid pride, take their place in rubbing the pale dragon’s wound. His unsheathed spear, dark red and veined, was an easy fit to the agitated ocean of pillowy folds, easing in to a steady, shivering moan of the great lady they belonged to. The tip, and then the shaft, slipped with a slow, oozing, patient motion, squeezing aside powerful muscles as if they were nothing, as she welcomed him without a fight. Till at last, his fur caressed her scales, and his whiskers bent down to kiss at her belly.\n\nEnarana, raged, at the unfairness of her lot. That mortals had such techniques and means of pleasure, that they no doubt spent hours, days, nights on end, enjoying such things. Whereas she, in her near two centuries of life, had only known the raw and simple relief of the rut, the crude affection of a muzzle, or the comforts of a heated body. But that was mere base mating, where this... this... love making, yes, for it deserved the term, it felt as if it should be taboo. The skill that such small things could bring to bare, to dig beneath her scales, to spoil her body so easily and so free, it was foreign, and intoxicating.\n\nA steady slap added a beat to her ode of joy, the smaller male rising and falling as he moved within her vent with a practised ease, clearly well versed in using little to make great things come.\n\n\"Ancestors curse you, are all your kind as endowed as you? Are you some bastard whelp born without scales?\" Enarana growled, feeling her passage cling and suck at his girth, but not nearly enough to sate her need. He burned within her, but still his length was no match for a drake, perhaps just a pair of talons depth. Smooth skin slid like silk inside, without the barbs and hooks of her kind to make her roar in pained passion, but the rest of him was not idle, even as he made her nethers melt, and flow.\n\n\"A gift from a previous, draconic admirer,\" he chuckled, one hand tracing each line of her armoured underside, while his other limb caught, and pulled at her tail, dragging it in, till it coiled close about his chest. \"But do not fear, I am aware that such as this, will not be enough to give you what you deserve,\" and with that ominous note, he sat up upon her hind, and pulled the tip of her tail in towards his mouth, and sullied it with a long, salivating, lash, of his tongue, lavishing it with a sordid kiss, and a hint of teeth.\n\nAll she could manage was a yelp of surprise at the sensation, feeling it ripple through her body, shivering her long mane, as if she was the one feeling the chill air. Another, longer, moan, left the wintry wyrm with eyes rolling back, as she felt his tongue circle around and between each segment of her precious limb, leaving it warm, wet, and twitching in his narrow maw. Such filthy pleasures made her ashamed of herself, as quickly they compounded and mounted; the plunging of his penis, the lapping of his lips, the teasing of his fingertips, they forced her back up the mountain again, but quicker than she had ever climbed before. Faster and faster, she raced to the peak, and choked on her shocked awe, as she was sent tumbling over by the smallest male that had ever mounted her.\n\nMossel let the spasming tail fall from his jaw, still sucking every scale as it left him, while the magnificent edifice of her sex clenched and pulled on him like no kinfolk female could. He waited, feeling the scaled flesh crush against his hips, till she gave her shuddering cry, and allowed him freedom to withdraw once more.\n\nHe did so, tactfully and delicately, rod still dripping with her enjoyment, as he climbed her body to meet the dragoness, eye to eye. \"Turn over for me, and I will make you feel that all over again, and many other ways till sunrise.\"\n\nHis voice sounded so much more dangerous to her than any rival had, as it promised her destruction.\n\n***\n\n\"- and at the last part of your wings, where they join unto your body, a careful pinch and~.\"\n\nShe roared again, as now in the traditional pose, he hammered his staff within her cleft, flecking the floor with her spend, all as his paws reached up along her back to toy with her in ways she didn't know she could be.\n\nShe shivered and grunted on the ground, wings trembling as she lay belly down, helpless beneath his skill. \"This... can't be right,\" she groaned, feeling the tension build and threaten to tear her asunder once more, \"What witchcraft do you practice? You've slain me, I am slaughtered on my own bed...\"\n\nMossel sighed in admiration, working himself to a slow burn of his own, wanting to enjoy the moment for as long as possible, for it wasn't often he had the honour of pleasing a serpent of her stature. \"No magic or tricks needed, simply the time and devotion to learn how to love a great lady such as yourself,\" his smile could be heard in his voice, even above the smack of hip to hind, sack to scale, as he bent over her like a drake taking his mate.\n\nHer vent pulsed again, leaking fluids that glistened on the floor as it froze, and Enarana surrendered once more.\n\n***\n\n\"- I always marvel at how sensitive your tongues are, and yet how little you use them for your own pleasure. Certainly your teeth could slay an ox in a single bite, but if one does not fear~.\"\n\nEnarana shuddered, unable to respond as his fingers, soaked in her own feminine fragrance, rolled and stroked, and pulled with care on her delicate organ. The daring male was half in her mouth, his naked flesh teasing her taste buds, his male-half sitting on the rim of her jaw, while his toes pressed and rubbed at her throat. She was paralysed as he drew moans and spit from her maw, when she should have felt the most in control, instead she felt powerless to stop him. She'd never imagined such a thing would feel so good, but then again, she'd never dreamed anyone would be foolish enough to throw themselves on her fangs as he had.\n\n\"Enuff, enuff! I'm h'about ta bweak!\" She begged him around the obstruction of his body, the great trembling filling her once again, along with the fear she would snap shut about him and end the beautiful torment he was performing on her. And that too was part of the thrill, the danger he was in made the act even more deviantly delightful, sparking great, chocked, shuddering gasps as she approached release.\n\nWith a care free laugh, he released her, pulling free of her jaw, but not before finishing her off with a press of a kiss to her nose, and a drag of his cock across her tongue. He jumped free of the dangerously erotic display, just before the mighty jaw snapped, and the frozen wyrm curled and convulsed on her now ruined bed.\n\n***\n\n\" - A favourite pose of many a great lady such as you, Enarana. One which gives them full power and control, though of course we must be careful, as I am nothing should you choose to crush me in this moment.\"\n\nIt was true, the jackal was beneath her now, at least in part. His back and shoulders rested on the remains of her furs, while she looked back on him from beneath her wing, transfixed in horrified fascination as he bent himself into an L, legs vanished to the knees within her body's deepest parts. His feet and toes hooked, squirmed, and worked her in ways no dragon could ever hope to match.\n\nDisbelieving, she continued the slow, agonising descent, just as he instructed with a smile on his lips. More and more of his limbs slid their way across the sensitive inner skin, a greater mass than a draconic cock could muster, wider and more agile, as he worked each of them in a gentle, paddling, kicking motion. The she-dragon could not risk speech, risk breaking her concentration, as he churned her cunt like it was butter. And still, he looked up at her, wide golden eyes filled with nothing but patience and humour, letting her take her time to sink, as if he had all the world in which to demonstrate his mastery of her.\n\n\"And now, the last length, if you would be so kind. My own, ah, delicates, are growing cold,\" grinning like a loon, Mossel dared the little tease, even as he watched his cock about to vanish, bollock first, into the charmed serpent. A tide of warm wet flowed across his hips, as he used one arm to hold her tail, and the other to point and position his tip, up towards his feet. He had to press and bend his legs to find space, but he managed to slide it in, just barely breaching the quivering hole that swallowed him up to the hips, as he all but pulled the massive rump to sit atop him.\n\nEnarana shrieked, mind gone white, maw wide and drooling, pearly eyes rolling. No drake had ever been able to claim such depth before, and yet there was this tiny creature, who seemed hell-bent on granting her every, secret wish, even if she was yet to make them. She couldn't believe it as her passage tightened and twisted, as she fought between needing to expel him, or wanting him to stay forever, to slide impossibly deeper.\n\nAn unnatural instinct overtook her then, to rise and fall, to slap her hind against the floor and shake the cavern with the force of it. Each thrust, each roll of her rear, drove him in and out, bringing a mad ecstasy that sent her claws clattering across the ice, and her wings fluttering uselessly within the chamber. And he was not still either, the devilish worm bent his knees, kicked his feet, wagged his tail, and thrust his hips, making great, wet, salacious, squelches, echo through her domain. The sweet sounds of mating, of coupling, of something truly forbidden and exciting.\n\n\"More, more! More of your tricks!\" The broken queen of the tundra roared, nearly battering her tormentor despite the bedding below them. Her walls clung and clutched, her titanic thighs squeezed against him, and her breast burned for lack of breath, as they twisted and cavorted towards an inevitable end. To think she'd swallow him two ways, and both times not by her own will, and only to her own exhaustion.\n\nThe male himself was not inured. Even his techniques and self-control could not make him immune to being waist deep in a she-dragon's valley. His balls throbbed and tightened, his knot began to bulge, his thighs ached, and his release grew closer by the second as he was crushed between a mountain and the sea. Rippling walls of female flesh, sucked and parted for him, ate him up and hungered for more. He was so close to lost he feared he'd die sliding into the great beast's belly, no longer a young pup, he was pushed to the brink.\n\nFortunately they both capitulated together. Teeth gritted tight, hearts straining, lungs burning, the dragon bellowed, the jackal yapped, and the climax shook them from heads, to tails, to tips. The dragon's snatch became a snare, fluttering, then clenching, squeezing her male impossibly tight in its quest for his virile seed. The male's cock become a spitting cobra, inflating, rearing, and unleashing a white river in service to her femininity. Again, and again, until after an age of blissful pain, she came crashing back to her nest, and all but fell over sideways.\n\nSlowly, after a long age of gasping, shuddering, and contented sighing has passed, Mossel used his hands to pry apart Enarana's lips, and drag his sodden lower half free. He cracked his back, feeling sore all over, but intensely satisfied.\n\n\"Well, your ladyship,\" the famed minstrel put on his bravest face despite the exhaustion, \"I believe it best I took my leave now. But I will ensure your legend is well scribed, just as you are on my heart.\"\n\nHe made it all of five paces, clothes bundled in his arms, before a frozen breath washed past his shoulders. Before his eyes, a wall of ice formed, blocking his escape from the dragon's lair.\n\n\"Not yet, mortal,\" tired, soaked, satisfied, Enarana Amagi, the scourge of Rasahan, Terror of Barhin, and Queen of the Yanuk tribes, purred, her eyes fixed and unyielding. \"You still have, nine hundred and ninety eight tales to tell.\"", "writing_bbcode_parsed": ""And so it was that on the thirteenth moon, in the thirty-eighth year of the fourth tyrant of Adasam-"

A battered sallet helmet bounced across the icy floor, skidding to a halt at the foot of the conveniently person-sized, floor-standing, icicle.

The figure behind the frozen tooth of ice, sighed, licked his pencil, and continued, "that Sir Gwenvarad... tragically met his end, at the...". A careful toe nudged the helmet, freeing the grizzle contents to tumble like a nut across the floor, "... wicked claws of the dreaded ice Serpent, Enarana Amagi, the scourge of Rasahan, Terror of Barhin, and-"

"And Serpent queen of the Yanuk tribes,"  a puff of frost misted the whiskers of the greying jackal, a snort from the long, crystal encrusted jaw, of the white scaled wyrm. Every scale a pearl, her eyes clear and shining as diamonds, the hooked bill of the tundra dragon loomed above, and exhaled another plume of powder to settle on the parchment. "And soon to be owner of a fine new statue to decorate my frozen halls. Care to stand to meet your demise? Or would you prefer to face eternity on your knees?"

Mossel Emphasi, chilled to his core, was not one to rush, however. While he would have preferred his chronicling of events to have gone without notice, it would not be the first time he would have extricated himself from a precarious situation. Thus was the struggle of the licensed voyeur.

"A moment, your great majesty," he smoothly slid to the tongue of Drakes and Wyrmkind, always best to both wrong-foot, and be polite, before one's potential demise. He tucked his prized journal away in the breast pocket of his travel coat, and slid the pencil to join its fellows on the mirrored side, before rising, dusting himself, and bowing to the mighty she-beast. "Humblest apologies to yourself, Lady Enarana Amagi, I did not wish to intrude upon you while you were engaged in a personal affair."

"By which you mean my attempted assassination," she pawed the rocky ground, though was quietly impressed by the tan-and-black canine’s mastery of the draconic language, even if he could not manage the throaty rumbles needed for certain sounds. "While your politeness is appreciated, little murderer, I'd like to move along to ending your life. Please take the pose you'd like to be remembered in, the cold embrace will be quite quick."

The jackal’s narrow muzzle gave a dramatic sigh, before he straightened his jacket, and adjusted his fur, putting on a show of getting ready for his doom. "A pity, and a loss. For you and the world, your ladyship. There is much I can offer you but... do what you must, I am sure you have alternatives to my services in your frozen palace."

The confidence, the smoothness, the sheer, Arrogance, of the male, why, it was positively draconic. It gave the she-wyrm pause, her lungs ready to turn the intruder into a new ice-sculpture, but for the curiosity that now plagued her. Curiosity, and greed, a dragon did not amass a hoard for her nest if she was not canny to opportunities.

"Services, mortal?" the held breath came in a dissipating cloud of crystals, rimming her potential new decoration in white, "what need have I of a hired blade, who skulks and begs about their betters?"

Corners of his maw twitching in a smile, the great Mossel merely bowed again, "Your ladyship, I am no sell-sword. I am a chronicler, tale turner, song spinner, and a great lover of all that is noble in the land. If nothing else, it would be worth postponing my death, for the story I could weave out of this encounter. Or perhaps the entertainment I could offer you, a novelty I am sure, given your remote choice of location."

He knew he had her hooked, that gleam in a dragon's eye was unmistakable. It was hunger, and temptation. Any creature of intellect would quick become bored with a humble existence of survival, and would snap up the chance for entertainment. And Mossel Emphasi had penned the book on entertaining a dragoness.

Enarana, licked her snout. "Perhaps, we can stay your execution. At least until you have repaid me for my troubles, mortal."

Mossel bowed low, "You have my gratitude, O great Lady of the Tundra. My name is Mossel Emphasi, solo grandiloquent, biographer to the courts of the Caliph of Shamsan, and previous consort to the Lady Semelaria of the Primordial Sea. I am at your disposal for whatever amusement you may desire."

***

"- so it was when the egg did hatch, what emerged was not a noble dragon, but the wicked eye of a basilisk. And so, *Clap*, the wicked empress was turned to stone, and the tyranny of her reign, was ended." With a flourish the tale did as well, and the great Mossel bowed his head to his audience of one. Enarana's gemstone eyes glittered in the half-light, enraptured by the telling, so much so she had quite forgotten the intruder's origin, until the moment the last words left his lips.

"Amusing. Pride, trickery, the hubris of mortals thinking to tame a dragon for their own ends. You tell the story well. Do you have another?" the wintry wyrm huffed, fore limbs crossed, tail swaying across the floor as her composure slipped.

"A thousand and one of them, your ladyship," he boasted, with only a small exaggeration, "which I would be most honoured to share with you. Perhaps we might retire to your inner chambers, and perhaps enjoy them over some wine?"

***

"- he became so infuriated by the threats about destiny, he swallowed the hero whole. But as the indignant chosen one kicked, and thrashed, he became stuck within the demon's throat like a fish bone! So in the end, the hero did fulfil the prophecy, even if it was a less dignified end than was anticipated."

Enarana laughed softly, eyes heavy, though still glimmering in the pale light that lit her inner lair. "Oh that is a good one, I had not heard such exploits before." She yawned widely, shining teeth casting reflected motes about the chamber, where she now lay on her side atop a mound of pillaged bedding, tapestries, and furs. A large barrel of plum brandy, taken as tribute, had been breached, and over the course of the last two hours had slowly emptied. "You have been true to your promises, Mossel. It would have been a waste to see you become a sculpture in my collection. But I tire of stories now, what else can you do for me?"

Stifling a yawn himself, the jackal stretched and bowed to his host. "Oh yes, great mistress. Though I see you are worn after your long day of labour. Perhaps you would prefer to avail yourself of another of my talents, one will ensure you rest better than you have in decades."

The wicked gleam was back, Enarana licking her snout at the prospect of greater delights. "Oh? A dangerous claim, and when you were so close to earning your freedom. What is this talent of yours?"

"The rarest, and greatest, one such as I can learn," he said with a smile, and despite the chill of the air, began to unbutton his coat and the silk shirt beneath. The display of his half-naked fur might not have done much for her ardour, but it certainly captured her attention. "I was honoured to study it at the side of a powerful sapphire Dragoness the ways by which even a humble ‘kin as I, can tend the aches, and sooth the body of so noble a being as yourself, your ladyship."

The she-dragon chuckled, a deep sound that reverberated in her chest like an avalanche. "I have heard such claims before, of brave and foolish males, who think to woo a dragon as they might a naive female of their own kind. Why should I believe that you, so humble a morsel as you claim to be, can stand up to such a proud boast?"

He stepped closer, arms and chest bared, a charcoal coat decorating a body kept well over years, certain that the great beast would wish to test his skills if nothing else. "Then let me prove it to you, your ladyship. If you permit me to have but one of your feet, I shall make every scale and sinew upon it dance and sing as if it was fresh from your egg."

Perhaps it was the effects of the brandy, perhaps it was the lateness of the hour, or perhaps it was merely that no-one had ever offered such things before. Whichever it was, Enarana chuffed out a sigh, and extended her off-foreleg towards the desert dog, with his dark back and time-bleached face. "Have at it then, mortal. But do not expect any mercy if I am disappointed."

The only reply he made was a gentle hum, as he sat crossed legged before her limb, and pulled it into his lap as one might seat a cat. She watched as he held her foot in his paws, rubbing firmly across the pads with strong pressure from his thumbs, while his smaller fingers hooked themselves between her talons to stroke the softer webbing that joined them. It was a practised, determined touch, that worked heat beneath her scales, and stretched cramped muscles she did not realise she had. It sent shivers up her spine, the pale blue mane there shaking and tossing, while her toes curled of their own accord, or at his command.

Enarana could not recall that any had touched her in such a way, and it seemed almost improper for one so small and weak as the jackal to be the first, and that it did indeed meet every aspect of his boasting. He worked his way from her heel to her talons, working deep into the joints, shocking her almost to the point of ending his life, when a sudden tug caused a digit to crack as if broken, only for relief to flow up her limb like a cool tide. He repeated it for each, and by the last she was ashamed to admit that she gasped and panted like an animal.

"Does your humble servant please you, Mistress Enarana?" Mossel murmured, watching the great beast squirm and moan before him. Her wings rustled against the furs, her tail twitching.

"Hahhhh, more..." she groaned, eyes half-lidded in bliss. "More, and do not stop until I say so."

It was then that he began to work up her leg, fingers darting, small claws lifting her toughest scales the fraction they needed for the flesh beneath to breathe. From wrist to elbow, then elbow to shoulder, Mossel worked her body as if he knew it intimately. Every ache, every cramp, every old wound that burned in the cold, was shooed away like so many gnats. Her talons flexed against the bedding, while she panted and grunted, twisting like a child in the sweetest of dreams. Soon the inner chambers echoed with the sounds of pleasure, but he seemed not to notice, intent only on his task.

"Perhaps you would appreciate, more advanced techniques?" he inquired, having traversed her form from tip to tip, and returning to her paw to knead and press once more.

She blinked back into awareness, dizzied by the delights performed upon her. "And what further talents can you offer, that have not already impressed me, Mossel Emphasi?"

He chuckled softly, and rose to meet her lowered brow, not commenting on the smell of liquor carried in her breath. "Could I humble ask you turn, and raise your belly upwards? There are parts of you I am sure you wish treated as well as they deserve, ones no Drake can appreciate as thoroughly as I."

Enarana was a serpent of experience, she knew the words were leading to something scandalous. But still, her curiosity was piqued. She shuffled herself, rolling to expose her broad, ventral scales to the cavern ceiling, placating her scolding conscience with thoughts of how she could dispose of him should the embarrassment prove too great. So she only gave a half complaint as she watched the small male unbuckle his belt, and divest himself of the last of his clothing. He was as well-kept below as above, middle age staved off by lifestyle, and she noted he possessed a prideful pair of stones and bestial sheath, perhaps slightly greater than would be natural for his kind.

"I assure you, great lady, that this is for your comfort," Mossel promised, as he tossed a leg over her tail, and lowered his now naked front to her undercarriage. "You would not wish for my rough travel clothes to mar your perfect scales. And for this next method, I will require my legs, as much as my arms, to please you."

She bristled, but it was too late. He was already pressing his well groomed fur against her cool belly, his strong paws gripping the softening scales around her abdomen. His head rested on her lowermost rib, and his fingers played upwards, till at last they reached the pits beneath her fore-legs. The sensitive half-moon scales inside the joints tickled where he touched, the claws doing things that seemed unnatural as they raked and pinched, and pulled. But that was nothing to what his feet were doing.

Knees now digging in for purchase, Mossel used his toes to tease the rim of a particular pair of plates, ones which were marginally warmer than the rest of her chill body, where a bead of cooling dew told him all he needed to know. Deftly, before her complaint could come, he hooked the toes of one foot below the protective cover, and brought the other to slip into the soft paradise beyond.

The dragoness belched frost in shock, too stunned by the suddenness to reproach the transgression, as warm, mammalian meat, slid into her most sacred place. By the angle it wasn't deep, but the way those leathery little beans rubbed, tickled, and spread her vent open, was such a novelty that she trembled as he worked. Hands still not idle, the canine’s whole body became a tool for her ruination, his arms pressing her ribs, his chest warming her belly, and his legs daring to tease her tender spots. And all Enarana could do, was imagine what he would do next.

Seeing her approval, Mossel slid his way down the great wyrm's length, fingers trailing, toes pushing, till he sat astride her tail, feet still playing with the drooling, winking, cerulean sex. The blue walls fluttered, a moist cave that was open for an intrepid explorer, and he was more than willing to map its depths.

"Well, Lady Enarana," he chuckled, the she-dragon a picture of capitulation at his masterful technique, "How does your humble servant please you?"

She licked her snout, tasting her own lust on the air. "You... fooled me well, mortal. Do not think this changes anything between us. I am still a fearsome and powerful dragoness, and you are but a flea upon my hide."

"Of course, your ladyship," Mossel rolled his pads across her tender rim, feeling her melt across his hocks, "You are as mighty and ferocious as the greatest of your kind, this is merely my tribute to your glory. Speaking there of, how would you best like me to tend your, Aches, next? My paws, my arms, my legs, or perhaps, something else?"

The subtle emphasis on that last part was enough to get the dragon's attention. Her lusts were quite stirred, and she could feel her instincts rise to an incongruous simmer beneath her ice-rimmed hide. She snorted in annoyance, and willed herself to relax beneath his heat. "Toy with me no more. You have permission, now do not make me regret it."

"As you wish, mistress," the victorious bard smirked, footpaws rubbing back and forth still to stir the moist cauldron to a frothing boil, "Then let us begin a true, deep, tending to your needs~." And before any reconsideration could pass, Mossel let his feet fall to either side of her tail, and his now full, and turgid pride, take their place in rubbing the pale dragon’s wound. His unsheathed spear, dark red and veined, was an easy fit to the agitated ocean of pillowy folds, easing in to a steady, shivering moan of the great lady they belonged to. The tip, and then the shaft, slipped with a slow, oozing, patient motion, squeezing aside powerful muscles as if they were nothing, as she welcomed him without a fight. Till at last, his fur caressed her scales, and his whiskers bent down to kiss at her belly.

Enarana, raged, at the unfairness of her lot. That mortals had such techniques and means of pleasure, that they no doubt spent hours, days, nights on end, enjoying such things. Whereas she, in her near two centuries of life, had only known the raw and simple relief of the rut, the crude affection of a muzzle, or the comforts of a heated body. But that was mere base mating, where this... this... love making, yes, for it deserved the term, it felt as if it should be taboo. The skill that such small things could bring to bare, to dig beneath her scales, to spoil her body so easily and so free, it was foreign, and intoxicating.

A steady slap added a beat to her ode of joy, the smaller male rising and falling as he moved within her vent with a practised ease, clearly well versed in using little to make great things come.

"Ancestors curse you, are all your kind as endowed as you? Are you some bastard whelp born without scales?" Enarana growled, feeling her passage cling and suck at his girth, but not nearly enough to sate her need. He burned within her, but still his length was no match for a drake, perhaps just a pair of talons depth. Smooth skin slid like silk inside, without the barbs and hooks of her kind to make her roar in pained passion, but the rest of him was not idle, even as he made her nethers melt, and flow.

"A gift from a previous, draconic admirer," he chuckled, one hand tracing each line of her armoured underside, while his other limb caught, and pulled at her tail, dragging it in, till it coiled close about his chest. "But do not fear, I am aware that such as this, will not be enough to give you what you deserve," and with that ominous note, he sat up upon her hind, and pulled the tip of her tail in towards his mouth, and sullied it with a long, salivating, lash, of his tongue, lavishing it with a sordid kiss, and a hint of teeth.

All she could manage was a yelp of surprise at the sensation, feeling it ripple through her body, shivering her long mane, as if she was the one feeling the chill air. Another, longer, moan, left the wintry wyrm with eyes rolling back, as she felt his tongue circle around and between each segment of her precious limb, leaving it warm, wet, and twitching in his narrow maw. Such filthy pleasures made her ashamed of herself, as quickly they compounded and mounted; the plunging of his penis, the lapping of his lips, the teasing of his fingertips, they forced her back up the mountain again, but quicker than she had ever climbed before. Faster and faster, she raced to the peak, and choked on her shocked awe, as she was sent tumbling over by the smallest male that had ever mounted her.

Mossel let the spasming tail fall from his jaw, still sucking every scale as it left him, while the magnificent edifice of her sex clenched and pulled on him like no kinfolk female could. He waited, feeling the scaled flesh crush against his hips, till she gave her shuddering cry, and allowed him freedom to withdraw once more.

He did so, tactfully and delicately, rod still dripping with her enjoyment, as he climbed her body to meet the dragoness, eye to eye. "Turn over for me, and I will make you feel that all over again, and many other ways till sunrise."

His voice sounded so much more dangerous to her than any rival had, as it promised her destruction.

***

"- and at the last part of your wings, where they join unto your body, a careful pinch and~."

She roared again, as now in the traditional pose, he hammered his staff within her cleft, flecking the floor with her spend, all as his paws reached up along her back to toy with her in ways she didn't know she could be.

She shivered and grunted on the ground, wings trembling as she lay belly down, helpless beneath his skill. "This... can't be right," she groaned, feeling the tension build and threaten to tear her asunder once more, "What witchcraft do you practice? You've slain me, I am slaughtered on my own bed..."

Mossel sighed in admiration, working himself to a slow burn of his own, wanting to enjoy the moment for as long as possible, for it wasn't often he had the honour of pleasing a serpent of her stature. "No magic or tricks needed, simply the time and devotion to learn how to love a great lady such as yourself," his smile could be heard in his voice, even above the smack of hip to hind, sack to scale, as he bent over her like a drake taking his mate.

Her vent pulsed again, leaking fluids that glistened on the floor as it froze, and Enarana surrendered once more.

***

"- I always marvel at how sensitive your tongues are, and yet how little you use them for your own pleasure. Certainly your teeth could slay an ox in a single bite, but if one does not fear~."

Enarana shuddered, unable to respond as his fingers, soaked in her own feminine fragrance, rolled and stroked, and pulled with care on her delicate organ. The daring male was half in her mouth, his naked flesh teasing her taste buds, his male-half sitting on the rim of her jaw, while his toes pressed and rubbed at her throat. She was paralysed as he drew moans and spit from her maw, when she should have felt the most in control, instead she felt powerless to stop him. She'd never imagined such a thing would feel so good, but then again, she'd never dreamed anyone would be foolish enough to throw themselves on her fangs as he had.

"Enuff, enuff! I'm h'about ta bweak!" She begged him around the obstruction of his body, the great trembling filling her once again, along with the fear she would snap shut about him and end the beautiful torment he was performing on her. And that too was part of the thrill, the danger he was in made the act even more deviantly delightful, sparking great, chocked, shuddering gasps as she approached release.

With a care free laugh, he released her, pulling free of her jaw, but not before finishing her off with a press of a kiss to her nose, and a drag of his cock across her tongue. He jumped free of the dangerously erotic display, just before the mighty jaw snapped, and the frozen wyrm curled and convulsed on her now ruined bed.

***

" - A favourite pose of many a great lady such as you, Enarana. One which gives them full power and control, though of course we must be careful, as I am nothing should you choose to crush me in this moment."

It was true, the jackal was beneath her now, at least in part. His back and shoulders rested on the remains of her furs, while she looked back on him from beneath her wing, transfixed in horrified fascination as he bent himself into an L, legs vanished to the knees within her body's deepest parts. His feet and toes hooked, squirmed, and worked her in ways no dragon could ever hope to match.

Disbelieving, she continued the slow, agonising descent, just as he instructed with a smile on his lips. More and more of his limbs slid their way across the sensitive inner skin, a greater mass than a draconic cock could muster, wider and more agile, as he worked each of them in a gentle, paddling, kicking motion. The she-dragon could not risk speech, risk breaking her concentration, as he churned her cunt like it was butter. And still, he looked up at her, wide golden eyes filled with nothing but patience and humour, letting her take her time to sink, as if he had all the world in which to demonstrate his mastery of her.

"And now, the last length, if you would be so kind. My own, ah, delicates, are growing cold," grinning like a loon, Mossel dared the little tease, even as he watched his cock about to vanish, bollock first, into the charmed serpent. A tide of warm wet flowed across his hips, as he used one arm to hold her tail, and the other to point and position his tip, up towards his feet. He had to press and bend his legs to find space, but he managed to slide it in, just barely breaching the quivering hole that swallowed him up to the hips, as he all but pulled the massive rump to sit atop him.

Enarana shrieked, mind gone white, maw wide and drooling, pearly eyes rolling. No drake had ever been able to claim such depth before, and yet there was this tiny creature, who seemed hell-bent on granting her every, secret wish, even if she was yet to make them. She couldn't believe it as her passage tightened and twisted, as she fought between needing to expel him, or wanting him to stay forever, to slide impossibly deeper.

An unnatural instinct overtook her then, to rise and fall, to slap her hind against the floor and shake the cavern with the force of it. Each thrust, each roll of her rear, drove him in and out, bringing a mad ecstasy that sent her claws clattering across the ice, and her wings fluttering uselessly within the chamber. And he was not still either, the devilish worm bent his knees, kicked his feet, wagged his tail, and thrust his hips, making great, wet, salacious, squelches, echo through her domain. The sweet sounds of mating, of coupling, of something truly forbidden and exciting.

"More, more! More of your tricks!" The broken queen of the tundra roared, nearly battering her tormentor despite the bedding below them. Her walls clung and clutched, her titanic thighs squeezed against him, and her breast burned for lack of breath, as they twisted and cavorted towards an inevitable end. To think she'd swallow him two ways, and both times not by her own will, and only to her own exhaustion.

The male himself was not inured. Even his techniques and self-control could not make him immune to being waist deep in a she-dragon's valley. His balls throbbed and tightened, his knot began to bulge, his thighs ached, and his release grew closer by the second as he was crushed between a mountain and the sea. Rippling walls of female flesh, sucked and parted for him, ate him up and hungered for more. He was so close to lost he feared he'd die sliding into the great beast's belly, no longer a young pup, he was pushed to the brink.

Fortunately they both capitulated together. Teeth gritted tight, hearts straining, lungs burning, the dragon bellowed, the jackal yapped, and the climax shook them from heads, to tails, to tips. The dragon's snatch became a snare, fluttering, then clenching, squeezing her male impossibly tight in its quest for his virile seed. The male's cock become a spitting cobra, inflating, rearing, and unleashing a white river in service to her femininity. Again, and again, until after an age of blissful pain, she came crashing back to her nest, and all but fell over sideways.

Slowly, after a long age of gasping, shuddering, and contented sighing has passed, Mossel used his hands to pry apart Enarana's lips, and drag his sodden lower half free. He cracked his back, feeling sore all over, but intensely satisfied.

"Well, your ladyship," the famed minstrel put on his bravest face despite the exhaustion, "I believe it best I took my leave now. But I will ensure your legend is well scribed, just as you are on my heart."

He made it all of five paces, clothes bundled in his arms, before a frozen breath washed past his shoulders. Before his eyes, a wall of ice formed, blocking his escape from the dragon's lair.

"Not yet, mortal," tired, soaked, satisfied, Enarana Amagi, the scourge of Rasahan, Terror of Barhin, and Queen of the Yanuk tribes, purred, her eyes fixed and unyielding. "You still have, nine hundred and ninety eight tales to tell."", "pools_count": 1, "title": "Draconic Curiosity - fur version", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/rtf", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" }, { "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": "1", "views": "269" }