Nawfa apprehensively placed his palm against the towering stone door. For all his boundless bloodshed and killing, Pyrroth’s most heinous acts by far were committed here, in this very bedroom. Those stains would take eons to properly wash from the Peak.
Probably for the best. History repeating itself and whatnot.
And now here he was, standing before the imposing portal, poised at the precipice of a new chapter for their kind, all but salivating at what lay beyond.
He’d utterly lost himself in the heat following the battle, the heady concoction of pheromones, sweat, and adrenaline driving him into his opponent’s arms in an entirely different sort of grapple. They’d left quite the spectacle as they departed the arena, though few seemed surprised. The energy was palpable. The fire dragons had new leadership, and every beast in the mountain felt it.
The insensate passion had cooled considerably when Razia pulled away, affixed him with a smirk contemptuous enough to kill a man, and strode off. By the time he’d finished gawping, her cerise tail had vanished around a corner. He tracked her trail through the halls easily enough. The immense energies unleashed through their gems had forced them into harmony. Even now, he felt a powerful thrum emanating from beyond the granite slab. Whether it was his instincts or the Wills themselves, something summoned him forth.
Three thin rivulets of molten rock, golden-white, flowed hissing and steaming up the walls, meeting in the vaulted ceiling zenith to form a grand array of patterns. Their constantly shifting ribbons illuminated the sea of turquoise silk sheets beneath. Adrift in their center like an aphroditic vignette was the object of his desires: Razia. She still wore her imperious grin as she lazily acknowledged his arrival with one brilliant eye.
She’d traded her melted slag of armor for a black leather bustier. The way it hugged and accentuated her bosom quickened his breath as effectively as her lips scant minutes before. A ring clasped the piece together and networked to a matching choker and skimpy thong.
Memories stirred of a leave from the Void. A night drinking had found his group in a hazy brothel famed for a group of women known as The Taskmistresses. Razia’s outfit bore a concerning resemblance to their attire.
“Come to give fealty to your new queen?” she called, not even deigning to raise her head at his arrival.
Ah, so this was your stratagem. As wily as you are fierce, I see. He smiled wryly. “Indeed. I understand the ceremony for it is quite rigorous.”
Seeing her there, spread wide in invitation, rekindled his primal urges. They surged as fresh and raw as ever. In a blink he found himself standing at the foot of the bed. Another blink and he was crouching down before her, taking one talon in reverent hands and kissing it lightly. His lips trailed up her calf, knee, and thigh. He tasted her inner legs, tongue gliding slowly over the armor-like plates that chased their length. He planted a soft smooch on the strip of black leather concealing her garden.
“You have my permission to remove--”
Nawfa focused on the offending article. Blinding white fire traced his gaze, scoring cleanly through the strap to leave it in two smoking pieces. Its departure left him a clear view of his ultimate objective, pink and puffy, glistening softly with her own arousal. He started slightly as he noticed what lay above. An erection to rival his own. Lamina that mirrored her thigh scales marched up its long thick underbelly, capped by a lightly flared and pointed head. They terminated near the base between the curves of a rosy knot. A trail of precum held to the sliced thong for a moment before breaking to fall across the glorious phallus.
“--It carefully,” she finished. “I like this outfit.” If his actions annoyed her, she hid it flawlessly.
He had little patience left to bandy words. His body ached with a mix of longing and genuine fatigue. Each wound healed all but instantly, yet the abuse wore him down like an axle under constant use. His scales felt frayed, threadbare. He wondered briefly if she felt the same. She’d gone well beyond where her limit surely lay. As always, she remained felicitously unreadable. The mystery was riveting. He needed desperately to breed her.
Already he was lunging forward to return to his work. He admired her size as he moved close. He’d spent two decades perfecting his own height for his craft, eventually settling on an even 6 feet; Tall enough to outreach moist voidspawn without being unwieldy in the cramped catacombs that wormed the plane. Razia, it seemed, had built herself to compliment her greatsword. She lounged a good half-head taller, all rippling muscle disguised beneath a thin veneer of curvacious perfection. He trailed his maw up thighs powerful enough to crush his skull with a simple flex, kissing the broad scales once more. He ravished one, then the other, before nosing in to take a long draught of her. Sweat and arousal mingled in his faculties, belied by the lightest fragrance of strawberries. He held her knees wide and dove deeper until his mouth met soft petals of flesh. The wide knot of her cock settled comfortably in the divot of his snout.
Even in that regard she outstripped him. A quick cross-eyed appraisal placed the member at a sizable 10 inches.
He’d never interacted with a penis besides his own, yet he knew almost instinctively what to do.
Nawfa licked her long and deep. He lapped up every drop of nectar, swirled his fork about the tiny hard nub at the slit’s zenith, and finally plunged into her. He unfurled fully within and began pumping his tongue repeatedly down the pleasingly tight tunnel. He felt her every groove and contour even as he sought to extract more of her delicious feminine juices. It was like water in the desert to his feral hunger.
Finally, he managed to shake Razia’s composure. His writhing earned a slight intake of breath, mistakable for the whisper of scales against silk. He grinned ferociously as he withdrew. Rather than pull away, he meted out the same degree of idolatry to her cock. He licked up its underbelly, sending the salty streamers of precum swirling between his fangs before planting a firm, suckling kiss on its head. Higher still he went, his claws guiding the way. As he kissed her navel, they slid roughly beneath Razia’s top to fondle her breasts. They had already worked the garment free with their massaging by the time his mouth caught up. He bussed each of them in turn, treating her teats much the same as her cockhead. He nibbled his way up her neck, her cheek, her ear, and finally, her mouth. She leaned up into the osculation, sucking and biting at his lower lip. His hands found hers and drew them above her head as he deepened their kiss. He held her there for a moment before rising to stand once more. He drew one perfect leg to him and used it to leverage the dragoness onto her side.
Muscles and tendons stood at rigid attention, itching to pound the ravishing creature beneath him senseless. His mouth watered in anticipation. Claws firmly gripped her thigh. His cock glided forward, its bioluminescent length pulsing softly to his heartbeat like a giant firefly drawn to her flame. He lined it up with her entrance. Its head grazed her. At long last, he--
Razia tensed, halting his thrust. “I’m afraid they’ll be none of that,” she said sternly. “You’ve earned your queen’s ire, and a night in a cell.”
For an instant he considered denying her and forging onward; forcing himself upon her. His body demanded gratification as it never had before.
I’d be no better than Pyrroth. Worse, I’d be committing the same acts in the very same room, perhaps on the very same girl. The thought disgusted him enough to calm his libido. He froze mid-push and let forth a deep, grumbling growl of anger; a dog given a treat only to have it snatched away at the last moment.
The meaning of Razia’s words soon became apparent. A surgically aimed wind tugged free the Nova Knight insignia from his horn and suspended it in midair. It wobbled there for a moment before beginning to glow a bright orange. The gold melted and twisted into a curved tube, its transformation directed by indolent waggles of Razia’s fingers.
Replicating earth magic with nothing but air and fire. Wind dragons really are unfair.
The tube became a cage of vertical bars, meeting to form a dome at one end. The other side remained open with what appeared to be two bars and a latch connected to the bottom of its curve. A small emerald flitted up to crown the odd contraction. He couldn’t help but notice the finished product’s uncanny resemblance to a flaccid penis.
As if sensing his concern, the device flitted towards his manhood. He moved to bat it away, but Razia’s stare galled him to stillness. The bottom ring pressed against the tip of his cock, much too small for the swollen flesh. A strange discomforting draining sensation washed into his abdomen as the cool metal forced down his erection. Its worked itself further onto his shaft, shrinking and softening it to fit, until its end squished over the pitiful remnants of his knot and butted against his abs. The entire cage swung down, dragging his manhood into full submission while the two bars cinched his ballsack and locked together with a soft click.
“If my little jester king wants his freedom, he’ll need to earn it,” Razia purred. “Fortunately, I know just the performance to commence your trial. I have a certain friend who’s taken quite the liking to you. You should grant her a private show.” She thrust her hips suggestively. “But first, your new outfit is missing something. Kneel.”
With a final flourish, she undid the clasp of her collar and transferred it to his own neck. The strip of leather that bound it to the rest of her alluring garb became a leash. "First the arena, now this. You look great being brought to heel, no matter the setting.”
His expression darkened, and with it the room. The chandelier of living flame dimmed to a faint glow. "I’ll play along with you tonight; however, tomorrow may find our situations reversed."
"We shall see. Now, your mouth has more pressing duties than words.” She tugged lightly at his leash.
Their mockery of formal speech felt ludicrously out of place before the tower of ladydick looming over him.
He glared up at Razia before allowing the insistent leash to draw him in. He took another long whiff of her heady scent and went to work. His tongue rolled out to polish her knot. He roved upwards, exploring each line and curve of the glorious member. Shaft and veins, glans and head, frenulum and tip, all received his affection. At the same time, his fingers formed a peace sign and slid upwards to lightly pinch her clitorial hood. He gave the soft flesh a light squeeze and began working it up and down in tiny strokes. His thumb followed, stealthily hiding in the rhythm until his claw met her entrance. He eased it into her even as he eased onto the phallus. Her faint musk grew more intoxicating as his lips sealed around the tip. He suckled it idly, drawing out a few more morsels of precum, senses straining for any signals from his partner. A loving caress of fingertips across his brow was all the encouragement he needed. His tongue swirled elaborate circles around her. With each revolution, his head dipped lower, slowly swallowing her whole. He relished the feel of her silken flesh flesh against his own. His cheeks sucked in to cradle her. His teeth gave the lightest nibbles over her grooves. His other hand lifted to support her base just beneath the now fully-hardened knot.
Through it all, he felt a pleasant vibrating in his own loins, soft at first, but growing more insistent with each movement. As he switched to pleasuring Razia’s weiner with his hand, he spared a glance downward. The emerald chip that crowned his chastity cage scintillated almost imperceptibly, rapidly giving off tiny flutters of wind like a bumblebee in flight. The entire chastity vibrated with its force, suffusing his dick in constant stimulation. The caged beast pulsed sullenly against its restraints.
Neat trick. It’s better than nothing I suppose.
Nawfa shrugged slightly and returned to his toils. He engulfed a full seven inches, letting the cock’s tip tickle the back of his throat, before gradually retreating. He let Razia flop free only lap up and down the glistening shaft in long strokes, each one causing her to wave gently. He slobbered her length and carefully took it in his maw once more.
He felt a tautening of muscles as his thumb grazed her upper wall. He honed in on the spot, stroking over the rough little patch in time to his bobbing head.
He soon lost himself in the rhythms. His ears filled with the melody of wet sucking.
Three powerful talons curled around the base of his skull, just beneath his forest of horns. A few short hours ago they were intent on ripping him limb from limb. Now they seemed almost protective as they pressed him down.
The knot loomed before him, glaring, enormous, inevitable. Thin lips met the fleshy bulb as Razia ground him against her. He felt his jawbones shift and pop as it strained him wide. A final platelet slid over his tongue, smooth and silky. He winced as his teeth grazed the globular mass. If it caused the dragoness any pain, her lusty smirk masked it completely.
A tightening of toes around his head was the final warning. With a slight twitch of her thigh muscles, Razia brought him fully to her. His snout pressed to her abdomen as the enormous knot settled inside. His tongue became a snake beneath a settling boulder, writhing, straining, yet hopelessly trapped. Her rigid cock slipped almost painfully down his throat, its head coming to nestle in the tight circlet of his collar. He managed a low growl of mixed annoyance and triumph. He managed a low growl, equal parts annoyance and triumph.
“Such a good king. Enjoy this feast in your honor,” she crooned, reaching down to scritch the sensitive scales behind his ears as she fed him.
Hot, thick ropes pumped down his gullet. His lunch had not survived the earlier destruction and, despite the humiliation, his stomach eagerly accepted the gift. Razia’s cum left him feeling warm and full even as it sent tingles of contentment racing across his body.
Razia’s other foot rasped against his cage, her toes effortlessly curling and massaging about their hapless prisoner. As if on cue, the buzzing of the gem crowning it grew louder. Its maddening vibrations against his cock left little room for rational thought. Worries and distractions gradually faded beneath it, leaving only delectation and reality. Razia’s savory seed continued to pump into him, each pulse causing her cockhead to stir pleasantly in his throat.
He managed to meet her gaze. She gave no heated pants, no eyes squeezed in bliss, no lolling tongue, just the same unchanging regal regard. Were it not for the shaft twitching in his gullet, she might’ve been holding court.
A sudden vision of him kneeling unseen beneath a desk, servicing her as she conducted state affairs flashed unbidden through his sodden mind. His own cock twitched hard against its confines at the fantasy, pressing it ever harder against the vibrating gem.
She’s good. Far, far, too good.
Their battle hadn’t ended, it simply took a subtler form. We traded one form of swordplay for another, though I seem to have been temporarily disarmed. The stakes remained much the same. The lust and whatever lay beneath it guided the dance, but it merely served as the drum of war. A war of attrition, of dominance, of control. A war he was losing quite spectacularly.

Razia barely contained a blissful moan. She focused every fiber of her being on maintaining her calm demeanor. It was like trying to plug a leaky dam with her fingers. Her teeth strained to bite at her lip. Her fingers and toes ached to curl into the silken spread. The base of her tail all but vibrated with tiny twinges, wanting to wag like a happy puppy's. She met treachery from every corner of her body and weathered it to the best of her ability. She could barely spare a thought for the handsome maw wrapped so willingly around her.
Nawfa himself was good, almost terrifyingly so. Every movement was calculated and confident. Not the brash confidence of nobility, but the certainty of a tested leader. Every decision he made was the correct one because he made it, and, once made, he committed fully to it. And oh what moves they were! Each dart of his tongue, every gentle caress of his claws, was a burglar in the night intent on stealing her breath away.
She played a dangerous game, with a dangerous man. The Sun of the South, perhaps the most powerful fire dragon alive, wedged snug between her thighs. His pure gold-white eyes seemed to bore into her, weighing her soul in merciless judgment. Keeping her composure beneath his onslaught mentally taxed her just as much as their earlier clash. Keeping up the air of dominant confidence proved harder still. The persona felt flimsy and counterfeit. Using it to toy with what her libido screamed was the mate of her dreams seemed beyond criminal. She dared not let up though. However warm she might feel in his embrace, she dared not trust him. Not yet. Not with her home.
She basked in the savage irony of the situation. Since a teen, others had used her body for their own ends. Now she wielded it as a weapon herself.
Her internal testes churned and throbbed happily as they drained into their willing prey. She continued to pet him and coo sweet nothings as her foot and leash kept him locked tight around her knot. The grooves lining the roof of his mouth felt utterly heavenly against its sensitive tissue.
She held him firm until she detected his trembling, the telltale sign that his oxygen supply was dwindling. Of course, the newly minted great wyrm didn’t need to breathe. She’d dealt him a dozen killing blows without so much as phasing him. Still, he was far too cute to cause unnecessary discomfort. With an inward sigh she allowed herself to deflate and began extracting the dragon from her waist.
She took a moment to steel herself, ran through her battle plans yet again, and prepared for the final assault.

After what felt an eternity, the wedge of flesh stretching him wide gradually lessened. The veritable firehose slid back over his tongue before finally pulling free. A slender strand of cum and saliva bridged the gap and seemed to hang unnaturally long in the air before breaking to fall into the puddle of feminine juices now soaking the sheets beneath Razia’s hips
He refrained from gasping, instead ducking low to lap up the delicious ejaculant coating her lower lips and the base of her tail. Once finished, he made an elegant flourish as if rising from a bow. “Was Her August Majesty pleased with my humble pageant?” His voice dripped with every ounce of irony he could muster.
“It was a most exquisite start, though your audience remains hungry for more. After all, jesters must be skilled in all manner of entertainment. We’ve seen your mouth in action, but what of the rest of your body?” She slowly rose to her feet. He moved to join, but a foot planted on his snout put the notion to rest. “I quite like you down there actually.”
He was forced to follow on hands as knees as the dragoness padded to the center of the area rug. She halted there and moved behind him, lifting his tail to inspect what lay beneath. His tailhole clenched as her fingers traced it. “Perfect.”
As so many times before, he considered stopping her. If his body was a temple, his butt was his most private sanctum. No sinner had yet dared desecrate it. The blasphemy of it made it all the more exhilarating.
His curiosity ultimately overpowered the dread, and he simply sat placidly as Razia knelt and began to lick him. Agile and firm, her wet tongue slithered across his balls and rimmed his anus repeatedly. His dread seemed to amplify the sensations, for each movement caused his entire lower half to tingle. Again and again she lapped across him, the forked tip darting against the virgin hole. Gradually he felt himself relaxing against the warm pleasant touch. Deeper and deeper went the tongue. Its slimy tip rounded a curve in his tunnel he never knew existed. Its pressure against his wall released a burst of pleasure behind his loins. He felt a flutter of hot breath as she chuckled against him.
Finally, she reared back, placed a talon right next to his chest, and took a position over him. The grip tightened on his leash. He felt a tepid probing, like the dragoness’s tongue but far larger. It dipped low to grind against its trapped brethren before aligning with his bud. He felt himself clenching again and tried to relax as it pushed against him.
He allowed a small grunt when it dug into his anus. It pushed his sphincter inwards, stretching the surrounding flesh worryingly until at last it poked through with a faint squelch. His legs quivered slightly, both from the sensation and the mass of dragoness settling atop him. The same contours intimately familiar to his mouth eased into him. Segment after segment slid home, stretching his abused hole until the ominous curve of her knot brushed his tail. They both knew what was to come, however impossible it seemed now. Already his sphincter strained to accept the veritable log entering his flume. He dared not imagine what the knot would feel like.
In perfect imitation of his earlier fellating, she slowly withdrew only to thrust forward slightly faster. His toes curled into the carpet as the hefty dragoncock filled him a second time. She nuzzled against him and nibbled at his ear. “You’re doing great so far.”
The thrusting grew gradually more intense as he acclimated to being stretched. It heightened to a constant flurry, each crash of her hips sending him bouncing wildly in his cage. Its jostling masked Razia’s next ploy. It was only after the shaking stilled that he noticed her intentions. He glanced down to find his mistress’s tail coiling hungrily about it. Smooth scales molested him, releasing a soft chorus of clicks as they slide over the bars.
“Nawfa Sal Soraria: Sun of the South, Hero of the Void, The Breaking Dawn, The Immortal, Lumati’s Lantern. A dragon allegedly of unquestionable morals and unshakable resolve. What could a living legend like you possibly have left to desire? You have more power and fame than almost anyone alive.” Despite the exertion, Razia sounded not the slightest bit out of breath.
The phallus pounding into him left little room for reply.
“We shared something far closer than words in the arena. I know your soul, little drake. You want nothing more than a big strong woman to tell you what to do. And right now she’s telling you to take it all.”
Fuck.
Her mouth swallowed his protests. Fangs met fangs as they locked together in a deep osculation. Her tongue invaded him, wrestling his own bemused muscled into submission and exploring about its newly conquered domain. It left no peak or valley unsurveyed. He meekly trailed it, wrapping his own tongue about hers until she pushed back into his last frontier. His eyes widened as he felt it brush his uvula. It paused briefly at the precipice before wriggling down his throat. Cool green eyes stared down into his as she dominated him.
He felt it building. The constant sawing of plates against his prostate, the fullness of her cock stuffing him to his limit, and the merciless tag team of vibrator and tail against his trapped manhood herded him to the brink. The same divine exaltation at meeting Lumati washed over him. His balls tensed and throbbed in eager preparation.
Razia too seemed to sense his blossoming climax. Her tail, ever lashing at his cage, tightened suddenly. Quick as a viper, it lunged forward. It darted between the nest of bars to sink its oiled tip a full inch into his urethra. A dazzling burst of cold, pain, and pleasure erupted from a nerve bundle he never knew existed.
He saw red. The unholy pressure in his loins built to a crescendo only to crash against an immovable plug. His cock twitched frantically, desperately trying to release its load. His testicles churned in frustration. They felt suddenly swollen and heavy. He glanced down to see his cock darken slightly and strain yet harder against its cell. Just as the full brunt of denial struck him, she knotted him.
He truly did whimper then. A long, low keen against his queen’s mouth.
A sharp prickling of muscles never before stretched overwhelmed his anus, as euphoric as it was painful. The knot strained his virgin bud wide, caving him inward in a way that made his tail stiffen. His body unwillingly swallowed the behemoth invader. It crushed against the same pleasure centers primed by her tongue and shaft to further overwhelm him. Its girth seemed to displace his innards and leave room for little else. His breath came in short fluttering pants against the dragoness’s mouth. They were made doubly ineffective by the tongue still exploring his throat. Razia let out a throaty hum of bliss that sent hot air racing down his neck. He felt an accompanying heat blossom deep in his rectum; at first a dribble, then a veritable cascade that further tightened his abdomen. He felt like a mold being filled with molten iron. The rutting dragoness was a hammer, the floor an anvil, the room a sweltering forge. The seed seemed to sap his stamina as it filled him, leaving him bloated and lethargic.
His prick redoubled its inefficacious efforts at the intense overstimulation. It twitched and pulsed hard enough to make his eyes water, demanding, begging release. All it earned was another quarter inch of tail working its way in.
Razia at last broke the hypnosis of her kiss. "Ah ah, can't go wasting any of those precious heirs," she admonished.
The breasts on his back became a crushing weight. His whole body tingled and crawled. He wanted to curl into a ball and howl, but the dragoness pinned him firm and forced him to ride out every last exquisite eddy of her orgasm.
She left him little more than a puddle on the floor.
She let him quiver beneath her for a few terse seconds. To his inflamed senses they seemed hours. Finally, she shifted. Firm hands fitted behind his knees and lifted. She casually rose to her full height, cradling him in her arms, her cock still tied tightly in his ass.
"That was quite the performance, little jester. I think we yet have time for one last encore though." She shifted her grip and wrapped one forearm beneath his legs while the other eased them on the bed. She spooned him, her warm scales contouring around his body. Her jaw settled comfortably between his horns. One hand trailed down his belly to toy at his aching cock. Her own shaft pulsed reassuringly deep within him. "Why don't you sing us a lullaby?"
He let forth another weary growl, but the point was moot. They both knew the winner of tonight's games. All he could do was close his eyes and let the gentle thrum of their gemhearts guide him to much-needed sleep.