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Mists of the Past

• Chapter 5 of the Legends of the DragonRider

It would have been a very dark night, normally. Barely a sliver of the moon was showing, and while the layer of high-altitude clouds was thin, it was enough to dim the faint starlight significantly. As it happened, however, the night was anything but dark. The blazing city lit up the countryside for miles around as the flames danced from rooftop to rooftop, and screams of alarm shattered all semblance of quiet. The residents, aware of the army advancing against them, had built their walls high and thick, hoping to thus withstand the siege - but the invaders had disdainfully ignored them, instead using powerful catapults to lob blazing bales of naphtha-soaked pitch right over them, to ignite the city within.

The fires had drawn attention, forcing those in command to divert soldiers from the walls in a desperate attempt to stop the fires from spreading out of control. Those who remained on the walls had had their night-vision thoroughly ruined by the blaze, rendering him quite invisible as he hovered on silent wings above them, black scales blending into the background darkness perfectly. They'd barely managed to get off a handful of arrows when he had swooped down to strafe the city, his flaming breath leaving naught but destruction in its wake, setting off dozens of more rapidly-spreading fires. Now, as the chaos approached its peak, it was time to act.

Are you ready? He asked telepathically, and heard the silent ascend from his back. Then he dove again, this time with another target in mind. A large force of soldiers were assembled just inside the southern gate, which was hardly surprising seeing as that was where the mainstay of the invasion-force was encamped - though, of course, they had been forced to divert some of their forces to the other gates, since undefended gates would be an open invitation to a surprise attack. Instead, they were surprised by a shockingly powerful strike directly at their front lines, with the destructive spell he had woven as he descended tearing a large hole in their ranks. Landing on top of their corpses, he set about them with claws, fangs and tail, spreading panic even amongst the hardened soldiers - too used to being the biggest and toughest guys around, they were unaccustomed to facing someone both big and strong enough to bite their heads off in a single gulp. Not that he did, mind - those horns tended to stick in his craw somewhat.

A lusty battle cry went up from his back, and he smiled possessively as the three women jumped down, clad in black armor forged from his very own scales, weapons in hand and midnight-black hair streaming behind them like banners. He had given them each their due, just before they took to the sky, so they were overflowing with energy, tearing into the reeling minotaurs with devastating force. Even as they cut their way through the enemy ranks towards the gate, however, the forces surrounding them were beginning to rally, and he made up far too large a target. For all his god-given near-invincibility, there was bound to be at least a couple of officers or champions around with suitably enchanted weapons, and he couldn't risk taking any injury at this point.

Go with _! I expect to see you all in my tent, alive and carrying many trophies, by sunrise!_ he called, relying on the mental link he shared with them rather than trying to shout over the din of battle. Yes, Lord! they replied as one, their weapons - sword, axe and lance - hewing the armored minotaurs that stood in their way as if they were nothing more than wooden practice-dummies. Then he jumped, taking to the air even as he sent a couple of parting spells to disrupt the enemy's attempts to rally and reorganize. Nothing breaks a soldier's concentration like seeing his commanding officer's bones suddenly explode, he thought with a grin as his wings beat forcefully, carrying him higher into the air.

As he rose above the city walls, he could see the army assembled beyond, like a sea of humanity. Torchlight glistened on steel helmets, and sheets of arrows rose from the back ranks to rake the top of the walls - unlikely to kill very many of the soldiers lining the parapets, but enough to force them to keep their heads down and their shields up, thus limiting their ability to thin the advancing ranks with hurled boulders or pots of boiling oil. Fortunately, the dumb beasts lacked the fine dexterity to use bows effectively, and had yet to devise a functional crossbow, leaving them at rather of a disadvantage in this sort of exchange. Soon, his Riders would reach the gate and open it from within - then, the army would pour into the gap, with several of his grandchildren - the DragonChild Warriors he had sired on his riders years earlier - likely in the vanguard. It was all over but the screaming, really.

Of course, he wasn't the only one who knew that. An earth-shaking roar resounded through the smoke-filled air, and he wheeled on a wing to see an immense apparition form above the center of the city, where the temples stood. A massive figure, all bulging muscles and grand, curved horns, a flaming, double-bladed axe big enough to cut a mountain in halves held in one equally-immense hand. Sargonnas himself, the foolish 'God of War, Fire and Vengeance' who had created the equally-stupid beasts who were even now fighting for their lives in the city below. If he marched out now, he could lay waste to a huge portion of the invading army. But then, that was why HE was there.

With a loud roar of his own, he threw himself at the towering God, fangs bared. "Why do you shout so, little god? I thought you liked war and fire, so I brought some for you as a gift!" He taunted, beating his wings to rise to eye-level with the bull-headed giant. That said head was bigger than his own body failed to inspire any fear in him - he had seen too many giants fall to put any stock in size. "You brought fire and war to my lands, abomination?!? Then I will bring VENGEANCE to YOU!" the God shouted, swinging the massive axe. The blow could have easily cut him in halves, but he was too swift, wings whirring as he dashed sideways.

The God had angled his strike sideways, lest it terminate in the midst of Sargonnas' own city, but at this point, that meant he had to stop the blow himself, leaving him momentarily off-balance. This was what his Brothers had been waiting for. Without any battle-cries or roars to give warning, two black shadows descended from the darkness behind the gigantic manifestation of Sargonnas, claws and fangs tearing through inch-thick skin, followed by bursts of fiery breath that shriveled the exposed tissue beneath into charcoal. Sargonnas roared, swatting about himself like a man fighting off a pair of wasps, but the two dragons who had waited to patiently in ambush weren't about to let themselves fall so easily. They darted back, swinging through the air as they descended, now aiming to slice at their divine opponent's legs to further imbalance him. And of course, now he was open at the front, allowing Blake to resume his advance, daring forwards to tear at the God's face, adding to his pain and confusion. A roar of delight and bloodlust resonated from his throat as he did so - this was, after all, what he had been BORN to do!

The darting hit-and-run attacks were unlikely to kill the towering being - indeed, for that, they would have needed far greater numbers - but he could not ignore them, nor advance while they tore at his heels. After ten minutes of this - though it felt like far longer, as it tended to when in combat - the supposed 'God of War' roared in pain and despair, and fled, giving up his physical manifestation to ascend towards the heavens in a ball of angry-red flames. It wasn't that they had bested him to any significant degree, really, but he no longer had anything left to fight for. The gates had been opened, as planned, and the army was even now pouring into the streets of the city, leaving the attackers intermingled with desperately-fighting minotaur soldiers and panicked civilians. If Sargonnas had started attacking the invaders at this point, he would have killed as many of his own people as attackers, and still accomplished little.

Grinning, Blake flicked his wings at his brothers by way of compliment. They had fought well. Their wings waved in return, before they darted away into the firelit night, presumably to rendezvous with their own riders and help them if necessary. They would be leading the assaults that, even now, was hitting the city's OTHER gates from the outside, taking advantage of the demoralization of the defenders - who had just watched their god abandon them to their fate - to break in that way, and thus ensure that all exits from the city were under their control. There would be no escape. By morning-light, every last minotaur would be either dead or enslaved, leaving their 'god' all but powerless.

Blake himself felt no need to check on his complement of Riders. Their mission was already accomplished, and the battle at the gate had been decisively won. By now, they'd be busy looting and pillaging, and searching for suitable trophies to claim in his name. Instead, he lazily flew back towards his tent, filled with the pleasant glow of a job done well - stopping here or there to hit a knot of armed minotaurs with his flaming breath or a swift-yet-destructive spell. There wasn't many of those left, however - more and more soldiers were throwing down their arms, choosing surrender and slavery over the painful death that by now stood as their only alternative.

With a yawn, he set down before the palatial tent that was his home when they were in the field. He'd been aloft since before nightfall, and busy servicing his Riders before then... and nothing exhausted like a battle. Figuring that he'd need his strength when dawn came, he settled down for a nap, blocking out the sounds of the ongoing battle. Yet, as he slipped into sleep, something niggled at him. The banner outside his tent, stating his name and rank... something had been off about the name. It was different from what he thought it should be, and yet, it was certainly his name...

The sound of marching feet stirred him from his nap, and he curiously poked his head out of the tent, blinking sleep-bleared eyes. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, and the fighting had clearly ended. The flames still reigned in the city, and would continue to do so - there was little point in trying to put them out, since the surviving population was now being led from the city towards the waiting rows of slave-wagons at the rear of the immense encampment. The sound that had awakened him was not unrelated. A couple of slave-keepers were leading two columns of freshly-collared slaves - all young, fit and as attractive as a being with a bovine head could be - towards another corner of the camp. One was all men - probably mostly surrendered soldiers - and he knew those would be heading towards the walled mini-encampment at the back of the complex where the Priestesses of resided. By now, they would be finishing their night's work, tending to the wounded, and quite ready for some suitable... relaxation.

The other column was all female and peeled off sooner, heading towards the brothel-tent near the barracks. The minotaur women were dressed in rags or less, either way hiding little of their impressively-sized... assets. Fresh blood was always welcome there, but these would be extra-popular and no mistake - and would soon be taught their place by the victory-drunk soldiers. And, with any luck, they would all bear strong children - with all the power of a bull, but the wits of a man. More soldiers for 's army. Yawning, he cast his eyes about, and spotted what he had expected - another knot of captives, bright metal gleaming on throats, wrists and ankles, being led towards his tent by a trio of black-haired women. The bovine faces were filled with despair and, when they saw him, fear. Still, they were dragged along, and soon thrown into his tent as he backed up to make room, grinning down at his victorious Riders.

"Brought back some suitable gifts for me, have you?" He said, grinning down at the women. The oldest of them, Anitra, grinned back. "They're not ALL for you, y'know..." she said, possessively pulling a young minotaur lad with a physique like a marble sculpture out of the little group, and he laughed in reply. She was a bit mouthy - not afraid to talk back at him - but while he knew that some of his brethren maintained strict discipline amongst their Riders, he didn't really mind. In his studied opinion, those who demanded that their Riders must always bow and scrape before them and call them Lord and Master, just suffered from poor self-confidence. He himself didn't need constant reminders of his greatness, anyway.

The youngest of the trio, Anitra, looked somewhat shocked, however. She had joined his entourage only quite recently, after his most recent promotion made him entitled to another Rider, and had clearly been a serious student at the Rider's Academy back in the capital - lapping up everything they taught the girls about the magnificent destiny that faced them as personal servants and bodyguards to the Black Dragons, Avatars of . He had no complaints about her combat-skills or her devotion to her duties - indeed, she fought with the fury of a true zealot, and would happily have slit her own throat on his say-so - but she had yet to really grasp the nuances of life in the field. Or perhaps he just wasn't quite living up to her idea of what a being shaped directly by the hand of Almighty himself should be like. Well, she'd learn, either way.

Shifting his attention, he studied the trophies they had brought before him. The Riders, acting as the hand of the Black Dragons - and thus - naturally got first pick of any captives, and it showed. A handful of young males, all nearly as sculpted as the one that seemed set to be Anitra's favorite for the week, and nearly the same number of young women and girls, displaying hourglass figures that would be near-impossible for a pureblood human to achieve without aid of a corset - as curvaceous as the males were muscular. All of them young and fresh and quite clearly cowed already.

A slender hand belonging to Anitra, his second Rider, grabbed one of the women by her short, stubby horns and pulled her over for a better look. Through half-lidded eyes, the generously-proportioned Rider looked the female minotaur up and down, then turned to glance up at him with smoldering eyes. "Would you mind terribly if I had some fun with this one before you ruin her... My Lord? She looks so deliciously innocent..." Chuckling, he shrugged his shoulders, sending ripples along his folded wings. She certainly did - it was hard to tell with these minotaurs, considering that they tended to be a few heads taller than pureblood humans and given to early sexual maturation, but for all that she had breasts that would have looked impressive on a human woman in her thirties, she was probably only in her mid-teens - a mere girl, and almost certainly a virgin still. "Sure, by all means... I think I can manage to muddle through with the rest of them 'till you've had your needs sated." He wasn't liable to say so out loud, but Anitra was probably his favorite. For all that she lacked either Anitra's fiery personality or Anitra's fanatical devotion, what she had instead was burning passion and a seemingly bottomless appetite - be it for bloodshed or sex. Needless to say, this made sessions with her particularly enjoyable.

Anitra had, in the meantime, dragged the young stud she'd grabbed earlier over to her corner of the tent, and was, with one hand on a horn and the other on his groin, clearly telling him what was expected of him, and what would happen if he... failed to perform. As Anitra dragged the teenage minotaur-girl she'd picked out aside, he nodded at Anitra, who - ever-obediently - was waiting for his leave. "Go ahead and pick one for yourself. Male or female, I care not." Bowing, she responded as always - "Yes, my Lord." Then she grabbed the nearest of the males with barely a glance, and pulled him towards her own corner - easily recognizable as hers, what with the number of devotional icons it contained, up to and including a small statue of , which she tended to drag her conquests in front of. Well, at least she always seemed to wholeheartedly enjoy the sex, for all that she tended to speak of it as a form of devotion, like a particularly vigorous prayer.

Blake, meanwhile, was feeling his own desires rising as the adrenaline of the previous night faded fully, and soft, sexual sounds began to fill the tent thanks to Anitra, Anitra and Anitra claiming their conquests. As he shooed the last couple of male minotaurs aside so that he could get a better look at the females and pick the one to go first, however, he felt momentarily disoriented. Something about the situation, about his Riders was... confusing. Then he shook it off - there was a time and a place for introspection, and this wasn't it. Several sides of prime veal were clustered before him, too terrified to even think of running or resisting, their nubile yet generous bodies barely concealed under the few remaining scraps of whatever clothes they had been wearing when the city fell.

Lowering his head to their level, he snorted, and delighted in seeing them all freeze in place like rabbits before a snake. "Pay attention, now..." he growled. "This is, in a sense, a try-out. If you provide an enjoyable time for me and my Riders, I will keep you with us for the duration of this campaign, and add you to my household when next we return to the Homelands. You will lack for nothing, and your duties will be light and even... enjoyable, once you adjust. However, if you fail to live up to our expectations, be it from a reluctant performance or some other hidden flaw, you will swiftly be ejected, and find yourselves in the Brothel-tent with the rest of your kin. Your life there would be far less pleasant... and probably quite a bit shorter, as well. There is never enough whores for an army this size - you would be expected to service dozens of men every day, often in painful and humiliating ways, soldiers being what they are. Once you grow too old or worn-out to be attractive anymore, you would either be sold into hard labor, or rendered into a blood-sacrifice to . So - unless that is what you want, I suggest you focus yourselves on being as desirable as you can..."

He had made that speech many, many times, albeit with some variations to suit the particular audience, and as always, it had done the job. They were still terrified, of course - calming them down would have been nigh impossible, so instead, he had merely redirected their terror so that rather than just being afraid of him, they feared the consequences of displeasing him. Of course, he hadn't told them quite everything - not that he had lied, as such. It was just that, considering the size of his household as it were, he really couldn't afford to take more than one or two of them back home. If he'd told them that, though, they'd either have despaired at the poor odds and lost heart, or started focusing more on sabotaging each other than on pleasing him. So, this worked better.

Sure enough, when he picked one out to go first and told her to step forwards, she did so with barely a moment's hesitation. When he told her to discard the rags she was clinging to, there was, perhaps, a half-moment more - but then she obeyed, and stood before him in her naked glory. Her skin was a creamy light-brown, with a slightly darker shade provided by the short, coarse hairs that covered a few places - including the bovine head, the groin, and the nervously-twitching, tufted tail that hung down just past her buttocks. The areolas that crowned the pair of huge, globular tits that hung heavy from her chest were likewise noticeably darker, and boy did they draw the eye as they wobbled with every shaky breath she drew under his hard eyes.

"Turn around", he commanded and she obeyed, allowing him to confirm that she did, indeed, have more than two noticeable fat-deposits in her body. Her rump stuck out noticeably, if somewhat less spherically, and looked deliciously soft and subtle. That was it, though - other than the tits and ass, she was all lean, powerful muscle - which presumably explained how she was able to walk upright in the first place, with so much weight at the top. Her legs, by necessity, were thick and powerful, ending in large feet - something he noted offhand, halfway because he knew there were some amongst his peers who considered themselves 'leg-men', and halfway because he still felt slightly bemused that this girl wasn't keeling over every time she tried to take a step.

As for her face, well... she looked like a cow, albeit a young, pretty cow, with short, stubby horns and a quivering lower lip. Heh. With a body like that, he'd have happily ignored far uglier heads... and, indeed, had, back when they'd conquered the Ettin-lands. Not that he'd be spending a lot of time looking her in the face, of course. "Get down on your hands and knees... and spread your legs." She obeyed this command without hesitation, having obviously expected it. Her tufted tail, however, remained curled between her luscious ass-cheeks for a second longer, before - shuddering and twitching - it lifted itself out of the way. Clearly, she had taken his little speech to heart. Licking his scaly lips, he glanced at the puckered, dark-brown hole that could just barely be glimpsed between the firm cheeks, then looked lower, to the slit between her thighs, rimmed by fleshy labia still taut with youth.

It was, unsurprisingly, dry as a desert - indeed, one could hardly blame the girl from being less than enthused, let alone aroused, in her present situation. Still, there were ways to rectify this, he thought as he carefully dipped his tongue into a jar that stood next to the mound of pillows that served as his bed. The greasy substance therein clung to his tongue as he lifted it out again, drowning his taste buds in a musky, savory flavor - not that he kept it around for the taste of it. The girl shuddered as he let his now greased-up tongue caress her outer labia, then push past them into the somewhat moister internals. He was proud of his oral skills, and rather fancied that he could've gotten her in the mood with just that - in his experience, the baser drives could be roused by suitable stimulation, even in adverse conditions. But having proven his abilities in the past to his own satisfaction, he saw no reason not to take... shortcuts.

Already, a low, surprised mewl was escaping from the minotaur's throat, and the huge, powerful muscles that lined her thighs could be seen to bunch with sudden tension. The potent mix of herbs and animal grease, cooked up by the Priestesses of and commonly used for both rituals and private entertainment, was soaking into the sensitive tissue of her pussy, strumming her nerves the way a master-bard strummed his lute. Bit by bit, the greasy taste on his tongue was washed away by a growing deluge of sweet, tangy juices, even as her labia visibly grew puffy and flushed. She moaned outright when he finally pulled his tongue out, her back curving in sudden, no doubt unfamiliar need, and the labia remained parted, almost peeling themselves back on their own in a biological demonstration of readiness. However young, inexperienced and scared she was, her body was now ready and more than ready - aching, in fact, for his touch.

For all that, however, it wasn't easy going when he mounted her. Between the aphrodisiac and muscle-relaxing effects of the lubricant and the 'motivation' he had instilled her with, she offered no resistance - but while her young body was built to handle the girth of a minotaur's cock - no doubt impressive by most standards - _he_was quite a bit bigger than that, and it showed. A pained gasp replaced the erotic moans as her pussy was stretched by his size, straining to accommodate him. She probably didn't quite appreciate how lucky she was. As a minotaur, even a young one, she DID actually have the capacity to handle him - painfully so, at least at first, but she could adapt. Many of the species he had fought and conquered had not been so fortunate.

Her breath was coming in short, sharp pants by the time he reached full penetration. Well, full for her - there was still a half-foot of his own shaft extending past her tautly-stretched labia. But he could feel his pointy cockhead rubbing against the tight sphincter of her uterus, deep inside - she had no more space to give. Her cunt was almost painfully tight around his head, too - his tongue had not penetrated so deeply, so there were no muscle-relaxants there to help the sensitive tissue stretch more easily. With a sigh, he settled down to wait for a few minutes, giving her body time to adapt - if he'd try fucking her like that, he'd just wind up pulling and pushing her across the floor, despite all the lubrication.

It was easy enough to tell when she was ready, fortunately. He could feel her heartbeat through the soft flesh wrapped so tightly around his cock, slowing bit by bit as the pain faded and her body's protest-signals died out. Her breathing, meanwhile, became steadier, and little mewling groans snuck in between the pants as the impulses of desire sparked by the aphrodisiac began to reassert themselves. Once he was satisfied that she had at least loosened up enough that he wouldn't be dragging her around when he tried, he shifted his hind legs from resting-position to a more active pose, and began to thrust. His own desires, held in abeyance by his iron will as he waited, now began to flare again - she was deliciously tight around him, pressing in with the soft, slick power of an untried pussy. He hadn't noticed any maidenhead when he had first forged a path into that virgin territory, but then again, he wasn't sure if minotaurs even HAD those - not all species did - and it hardly mattered besides. He could tell from the way she was reacting that she was, indeed, a virgin - or had been, until a few minutes ago.

There were reasons he liked virgins, of course - and it wasn't just the sense of rarity, of stealing away something unique and therefore precious. Inexperienced in the field of sexual pleasure, they were never ready for the sheer sensory load that the combination of a potent aphrodisiac and a cock big enough to stir their insides while simultaneously rubbing every last square inch of their pussy tended to cause. Soon, she was moaning freely, her body shuddering beneath him as waves of pleasure washed over it. Craning his neck, he enjoyed the view for a bit - her powerful arms and legs managing to hold her body up even as his powerful thrusts thundered into her, her heavy tits swinging pendulously below, her big brown eyes dazed and unfocused, her skin and coat matted with sweat... certainly, were it not for the metal slave-collar around her neck, one would not at a glance have guessed her to be an unwilling participant, or indeed anything less than delighted to be beneath him.

Lifting his head again, he looked around the tent, letting the many erotic sights lift him towards his climax. There was Anitra, riding the young stud she had picked out, her breasts and buttocks shuddering as she bounced freely on his cock, guided by his large, powerful hands on her hips. Over there, Anitra was holding the young cow she'd dragged off by the horns, pulling the handsome, if bovine, face in between her thighs and shuddering in pleasure as the large, soft tongue worked over her cunny. And of course, before the eyes of the little statue of , Anitra was on her hands and knees moving her hips back and forth in time with the thrusting of the young stud pounding her ass.

The atmosphere of raw sex filling the tent - consisting mostly of the increasingly intense smell of mixed sweat and bodily fluids - was growing thick enough that even the so-far untouched slaves couldn't help but be affected. The last couple of males, sitting near the door as they waited their turn, were both sporting large, throbbing erections that they utterly lacked enough clothes to hide. The four remaining females, meanwhile, were clustered before him, eyes darting around the room and clearly blushing in a likely combination of acute embarrassment and unwanted arousal. Two of them were clinging particularly closely to one another, and he ran an analytically eye over them. There was a noticeable age-difference - the bigger of the two was probably the oldest of the girls, and indeed of the slaves altogether. Mother and daughter? No, she wasn't THAT old - still a tight little dish. Had to be sisters, then.

A devious thought occurred to him, and he lowered his head to their height with a broad, fang-filled grin. "You two are next. Help each other prepare - use the lubricant in the pot beside me." The two of them looked hesitant for a moment, each seeking the other's eyes - then they quickly moved towards the pot, still close together. Presumably, it had occurred to them that being properly lubricated beforehand would make their lot easier, and that it would probably be more pleasant to have it applied by a trusted sister than the big, scary dragon before them. Most likely, it had _not_occurred to them that said lubricant might have contributed in no insignificant way to the present, lust-dazed state of the minotaur maiden shuddering and moaning beneath his serpentine body.

As he waited for his little joke to pan out, he continued to thrust his hips, feeling his climax build, and considered the last two maidens. Perhaps he should give them something to do other than just watching. Gesturing towards the two studs nearby, he addressed them somewhat laconically. "You two... go get the men ready. My riders will soon need a fresh pair, I suspect. Use your mouths. Consider it practice for when you service me. But do not let them cum - if they do, both you and they will be punished." They stared for a moment, parsing the orders, then turned and fled towards the corner where the handsome young studs waited, wide-eyed and probably pondering whether their current plight really was all THAT bad.

The tent was turning into a proper orgy, he thought as he once again panned his sight over the main subject of his ardor. The minotaur maiden looked halfway to catatonic, arms and legs shaking violently despite their normally-sturdy strength, eyes closed, breath coming in steady, moaning pants. She was moving against him, now, without any orders - probably an unconscious reaction. Clearly, she'd already had several orgasms, the pleasure consuming and displacing the fear, confusion and despair she had endured due to her unfortunate situation - probably, she hadn't put up much of a fight. Better to lose yourself in carnal pleasure than remain conscious of such an unpleasant reality, after all.

And the sisters... heh. By the time his eyes had returned to them, they had already crossed a few boundaries. Unsurprisingly, they had applied plenty of 'lubricant' to each other's bodies, hoping to make things easier on themselves. The aphrodisiac effect had stolen up on them, intermingling with their sisterly bond, magnified as it already was by their situation. In such desperate straits, it was natural to cling to something familiar, something comforting - like the love and trust of a sister. Now, with their stress-soaked minds overwhelmed by a strange desire that seemed to center on their sister's touch, that love had become rather more physical. Their hands were roaming freely, exploring each other's taut, youthful bodies... spreading the aphrodisiac lubricant ever further around. As he watched, the dam finally burst, and the two of them leaned into each other to share a kiss that was anything but sisterly, fingers becoming more insistent and intrusive by the moment.

Watching this perverted display finally pushed him over the edge, and he raised his head to let out a half-strangled roar of ecstasy. His surging balls released their load into the young minotaur beneath him, filling her untried womb with the first spurt, stretching it with the second, and sending a steady flow of hot spunk flowing back along his shaft beyond that. He squeezed his eyes shut as the pleasure overtook him, and bit by bit, the sounds of the surrounding orgy dropped away. Once his eyes opened again, he was bemused to see that a mist had risen, even inside his own, personal tent. The others - his Riders and the minotaur slaves, were still visible through it, but moving strangely slowly - and the sounds he could hear seemed to come from far away. Then the mist thickened further, blocking out everything.

As the mists receded, Blake blinked his eyes, feeling momentarily disoriented. However, the familiar sight of the capital's mighty building, humming with industry, and the mighty Shieldwall that surrounded it, quickly calmed him down. It was rather unusual to see fog at this time of year, but nothing to get all upset about - and besides, it had cleared up just fine now, giving him an excellent view of his destination. Before him, the Rider's Academy stood tall, sparkling new - to the point where the sound of ongoing construction-work could be heard from the rear. It wasn't yet entirely complete, but soon would be, and it had already been taken into full use - a necessity, since the number of Rider-candidates had by now far outstripped the Main Temple's capacity.

The main doors were designed with dragons in mind, of course, and he was expected. Obedient servants pulled the grand portal open as he approached, and upon stepping into the lavishly appointed front hall, he was immediately greeted by a matronly priestess - one of the Academy's teachers. She guided him down a dragon-sized hallway that terminated in a luxurious room, overlooked by a great, carved-stone icon of - the Induction-Room. Kneeling on a cushion, there, was a young, pale-skinned girl with jet-black hair, visibly nervous and just as visibly trying to suppress it. She bowed deeply from her kneeling position as soon as he entered, and he returned the gesture with a respectful nod. Having been selected as his first Rider, she would likely have been top of her class in several disciplines, and a devoted servant of besides - worthy of respect, even from him. The matron gave him an equally-respectful bow, a slight twinkle visible in her eyes, and then retreated, letting the door close behind them.

Left alone with the girl, he felt momentarily awkward and uncertain, before shaking it off. It was not as if he was some inexperienced hatchling! He'd fought on the frontlines for years, racking up victories and trophies! Nor was it his first time seeing a human girl naked, for she truly wasn't wearing a shred of clothes, though her long, black locks actually had managed to conceal her breasts somewhat after her bow, almost certainly by accident. But, well... the slaves he had mated with after his various conquests had never lasted long, which was to be expected, of course. He'd never had to worry about making a good first impression, knowing always that they would provided merely a brief release of pressure. And while he had been pleasured by human women before - the Priestesses were always happy to oblige, if no other release was available - they could only pleasure him with their hands, mouths and breasts. Enjoyable, of course, but not the same as a proper mating. Of course, you couldn't mate with ordinary human women, there were rules against that - and with good reason, considering the way human blood responded when...

He halted his stumbling mind with an effort of will, realizing that the moment of silence that had occurred when the matron left had dragged on for a rather uncomfortable space of time. Clearing his throat, he finally addressed the girl, who had been sitting quietly and obediently, awaiting his pleasure. "Ahem. So, you feel ready to join the ranks of the Riders, then?" She blinked, perhaps surprised to hear a question rather than an order, but she quickly rallied. "Yes, my Lord. I am honored to be given the opportunity to serve You, and , in this way. I have studied and trained hard for this opportunity." He nodded. Top of her class, indeed. "And it does not worry you that you will have to go with me to the battlefield? Not as a healer or adviser, like the Priestesses, or a simple servant or aide as most women. You will be fighting, with your life on the line. Our foes are desperate, and would not hesitate to slay even a young woman like yourself."

She swallowed visibly, then shook her head angrily - angry with herself, if he was any judge. "I am not afraid, my Lord. We all must die some day, and what better way to go than fighting the enemies of ? Indeed, I consider myself blessed to have the opportunity to do so, where most women can only try to support our troops as best they might. And while I know a true battlefield will be very different, I have spent much time in our training-rooms, practicing swordplay and sparring with my Sisters and the instructors. I will not disappoint you, I swear." Well, she certainly talked a good game, and there was passion in her words. Smiling at her - with his mouth closed, so as not to show his fangs overmuch - he made one last question. "What is your name, girl?"

"I am called Anitra, my Lord. It will be my honor to serve you, if you would have me." She was repeating herself, now - her nervousness barely suppressed. The interview had gone on longer than she'd expected, if she had expected any questions at all. Also, there was something about her name... he put it from his mind. She seemed a worthy candidate indeed, and there was no point dragging things out further. "Very well, then. Offer yourself to me." He gestured towards the altar-like table that was set up in the midst of the chamber, right before the eyes of the towering statue of . It was as lavishly appointed as the rest of the room, covered by a thick, soft-looking rug and built to just the right height. Beneath one end, a stone basin stood, complete with a drain-pipe leading down through the floor - an addition that no doubt made the cleaning of the room after use much, much easier.

Anitra, clearly happy that the interview was over, and that they were moving on to something more tangible, leaped up from her cushion and immediately draped herself over the table, legs spread over the stone basin - indeed, she was so efficient at the maneuver that one could almost suspect that she had rehearsed it a few times before he came in. Regardless, she certainly made a fetching sight, with her long, slender legs, her budding breasts now squeezed flat against the rug covering the tabletop, and her tight, muscular ass so invitingly pointing his way. Sharp of eye, he could even spot the dew-drops forming on her labia as she awaited his pleasure - certainly, she could not be said to be anything less than completely willing.

And yet, she also looked so... small, and young. As a graduate of the Academy, she would be somewhere around 15 or 16, supposedly, not that he'd really spent enough time around young humans to really gauge something like that. The pertinent fact, though, was that his cock - which was now emerging from its sheath and hardening between his hind legs - was roughly as long as one of her shins, measured from knee to foot, and thicker around than most of it. Any union between two beings of such radically different size seemed destined to result in torturous pain, or possibly a slow death... but, of course, appearances could be deceiving. She was only MOSTLY human, after all, and though he had heard from his brothers that it apparently _did_hurt them quite a lot at least at first, things would rapidly change once the connection was joined.

The altar and the girl disappeared underneath his bulk as he mounted her, carefully steering his pointed cockhead towards its diminutive target. Her juice-dewed labia brushed tantalizingly against him as he found his mark, and he heard her moan beneath him as she felt it too. Then the moan turned into a half-stifled groan of pain as he pushed forwards, parting her sex and feeling her stretch tautly around his girth. It was hard going, her body resisting every inch despite all the training she would have had - the trainee Riders practiced extensively in preparation for their joining, but they were never QUITE prepared for the girth of a full-grown dragon. At least he didn't have to bother with pushing past the maidenhead - fortunate since those who carried Rider blood tended to have rather thick and tough ones.

She was breathing sharply beneath him, now, mastering the pain as best she could. Deeper and deeper he pushed, going slowly - both from necessity, considering the extreme tightness, and in an effort to avoid hurting her more than he had to. It took some willpower, though - the pressure on his cock was near painful, but that didn't stop his blood from pumping harder and harder as the sensation of hot, wet tightness traveled up his shaft. Still, he restrained himself until he reached the bottom - with barely half of his dick inside, his cockhead pushed against her womb, and the connection was, at last, formed.

A tingling sensation surrounded his cock as the near-painful tightness began to loosen, and Anitra's inner tissue started to pulse. No longer was her body resisting - instead, it was pulling him in. A groan escaped between his clenched teeth as he felt the tight ring of her cervix embrace his sensitive cockhead, and he instinctively thrust forwards again. She, too, was making noises, now - screams that might be pain, pleasure or both, as the dormant power within her awakened to his touch and began to reshape her body. As he savored the sensation of having her pussy adapt to his specifications, he relaxed his control and let his instincts take over, steadily fucking the unresisting girl with ever-longer strokes until he felt himself bottom out for real - the edge of his scaly sheath resting against her puffy labia.

The sensation was indescribable - none of his past sexual experiences compared. Never mind the simple stimulation afforded with hands and tongues, even the slaves he had claimed couldn't begin to live up to this. There were, supposedly, species out there who could manage the girth of a grown dragon, but he hadn't encountered any on the fronts he had fought on so far... so the penetrations he had experienced so far had involved quite a lot of tearing and screaming. But this... this was a pussy that was, quite literally, made for him. And not just in the sense that had created the Riders to be partners - in war and in bed - for the Black Dragons... through the Joining, her body was now adapting itself to his specific measurements, making her a perfect fit for him and him alone.

Under such circumstances, his orgasm was not long in coming, and with a lustful roar, he shot his first load into the waiting womb. She was shuddering under his body, making groaning noises that he thought were probably orgasmic, rather than an indication of continued pain. She shouldn't be in any significant discomfort at this stage, anyway - the Joining would be complete, and the ritual table had an indentation underneath the midsection specifically to accommodate the stretching of the womb and belly that a full load of dragon-cum tended to inflict. Well, a single load wouldn't cause that much of a visible bulge, really... but then again, he wasn't really planning to stop at just one round, now that he finally had a sexual partner who could keep up with him.

With the soft, perfectly-sized folds of her newly-adjusted pussy milking him, it only took about ten minutes of long, regular strokes to reach another climax. The shuddering and moaning from beneath him changed tone in the meantime, as Anitra adapted to her new body and the sensations it could convey - of course, she had been prepared for this, at least in the sense that she'd known what to expect. By the time he fired his second load into her by-now ballooning uterus, she was making clear, breathy moans instead of half-choked groans, and moving her hips in rhythm with him instead of just shuddering randomly.

When he finally pulled out and stepped back to sit down on his haunches, it didn't take her many seconds to recover - despite her distended, wobbly belly, she slid smoothly down from the table and kneeled before him to begin licking his cock clean, as was her duty. Rather than go about it with an appropriately demure and obedient attitude, however, she was looking up at him with smoldering eyes. When she was sure she had his attention, she started making a show of it - rubbing her face against his shaft, kissing and caressing, making unnecessary slobbering noises, and even running her teeth across the sensitive tissue to add stimulation. Needless to say, he wasn't softening up in the least.

"I see the Black Blood agrees with you..." he said as she finished her labor, finding it somewhat difficult to keep his voice steady. Laughing, she jumped to her feet again, setting her breasts - which had grown to maybe twice their original size during the Joining - and cum-filled belly both to jiggling. "That's an understatement! I thought I knew what pleasure was, what with all the training and practice, but it was always... well, training and practice, with a dash of duty besides. Even when it makes you cum, it's got a bit of a gray edge to it. This, though... what you did to me... it was_mind-blowing_. And there's more, isn't there? I want to try_everything!_" The fiery personality he had seen lurking under the surface when he had interviewed her early was out in full force now, unleashed - along with other things - by the transformation of the Joining. Well, that was fine. Sounded like she'd make entertaining company, anyway.

Chuckling in reply, he nodded. "Well, we could start with anal, if you're ready. It IS going to hurt at first, mind - despite your training - but you're going to have to get used to it anyway if you want to earn your armor." She grinned naughtily up at him, one hand falling instinctively to her swollen belly. "Oh yes... mmm... it's my duty to bear you at least one child before I receive an armor from your scales, and thus the right to join you on the battlefield. Heh. I know the song. 's all stupid, though. I don't need duty or bribes. I'll bear you as many children as you desire, my Lord... and I think I'll enjoy it." Children. She would bear him CHILDREN. He had known, of course, that producing DragonChild Warriors to swell the ranks of the army and breed more Riders was a necessary and vital component of the Dragon-and-Rider union, but it had always been an abstract sort of thing. Reaching out with exquisite care, he ran the blunt back of one talon over her stomach - stretched by cum, now (though it was already diminishing as her body absorbed it), but in a few months, it would begin to grow for another reason entirely.

Of course, that also meant that he rather hoped that anal sex was as enjoyable as those of his Brothers already blessed with Riders had told him. As eager to find out as Anitra seemed to be, he gestured towards the mating-table. Without hesitation, she jumped over there and draped herself over it again, and as he approached he saw her reach back between her legs to scoop up a handful of goo from between her labia - a slimy mix of her rapidly-flowing juices and his spunk - to lather on her ass-crack for added lubrication. His cock was freshly coated in her saliva, of course, but it was going to be a tight fit despite her newly-altered body, so every little bit would help.

With careful deliberation, he poked his pointy cockhead into her sphincter, pushing it open... which was easy going for about an inch or so, beyond which point the tight little ring of muscles seemed determined to fight for every millimeter. The anal training she had undergone in the Academy barely helped - after all, her body had only become anatomically capable of handling an intrusion of this scale within the last half hour. He could hear her gritting her teeth, air whistling through them as he pushed deeper and deeper, forcing her body to adapt. It could and would, he knew that much - but until it did, it would be an exquisitely painful experience. So, at least the training had that much going for it - without it, she probably would've been screaming bloody murder.

It was tempting to go slow, so as to go easy on her... but his Brothers had warned about that, too. It would only draw out the pain. Her body wouldn't be able to adjust until it had the raw power of The Quickening to help, so the sooner he got himself off, the better. And so, clenching his teeth, he shifted his stance and began to pound her in earnest, ignoring the instinctive urge to treat the seemingly-fragile girl with excessive gentleness. She was a Rider already - and quite capable of handling anything he could dish out, even if she didn't necessarily enjoy it yet.

Once he let such concerns slip from his mind and his instincts reassert themselves, he found that anal sex was, indeed, quite enjoyable. While it was just as deliciously warm, there was more friction than her pussy had offered - despite the layer of saliva covering his cock - and it was noticeably tighter. If her cunt had felt like it was tailor-made to perfectly fit his dimensions (which it was), her ass felt like it was just a size or two too small - and the potent pressure was making his balls hum with freshly-produced sperm. Anitra, meanwhile, was more active than she had been before, writhing underneath him - be it from pain, pleasure, or both. Normally, this would have worked together to get him off in short order, but he HAD already cum twice in a fairly short span of time - so it still took him over 15 minutes of full-powered, foot-long thrusts to reach another climax. By then, Anitra had stopped squirming so much - though he wasn't sure if it was due to the pain beginning to wear off, or just exhaustion.

If he had worn her out, it wasn't for long - once his orgasmic roar had bounced off the walls, and a fresh load of cum boiled down his thick cock to fill her ass, the ability that lay at the core of the Riders' power was at last activated. He could feel her shift as The Quickening took hold, her heart beating faster and stronger - rather close by his cockhead, considering the depth of his penetration - while her breathing turned deep but unlabored. Once he'd taken a minute to regain his breath and dismounted, she rose from the table with a kind of luxuriant ease, the muscles on her back and legs seeming to almost surge visibly with unnatural power.

When she turned to face him, her eyes were no longer smoldering, but burning - and set in a face twisted into a grinning grimace of desire and exultation. The bulge of her belly had disappeared entirely while she was lying down, and the fresh load he'd fired into her intestines had apparently been absorbed too quickly to produce a new one. Without hesitation, she dove under his body to begin cleaning his cock anew, licking gobs of sticky cum from his shaft with ravenous intensity, seemingly either not noticing or not minding the taste of her own ass that undoubtedly stuck to it after exploring her so deeply. She even took the time to kiss the scaly bulge beneath his sheath that held his balls, tonguing it with enough forcefulness that he could feel it even through the scales. Then she jumped up, still crackling with energy, eyes darting hither and yon, hands caressing her breasts and crotch with seeming thoughtlessness as her grin turned vicious.

"Oh, this is the best... I've never felt such power! This is what it means to carry the Black Blood, the blood of dragons!" she was almost cackling, and Blake had a feeling that he knew what was coming next. Sure enough, her eyes lingered on the door he had entered by for a moment. "Do you mind if I have a chat with my old Matron before we leave, my Lord? I would like to have a word with her concerning her... educational methods." Groaning, he ran a claw over his face and shook his head. "No, Anitra. No. Get yourself under control. What you're thinking now isn't really you - rather, it's the loss of inhibition that comes with the Joining, combined with the intoxicating effect of experiencing your first Quickening. I have been warned of this. If you do not learn to handle it, you will become a tool of your powers, rather than the other way around - and you will do things that you will regret in a more sober state of mind."

Taking a deep breath through clenched teeth, Anitra hugged herself tightly, and closed her eyes. "You're... right. Dammit. Even knowing that, it's hard for me to keep my thoughts centered. This sensation of overwhelming power is almost too much." Clicking his tongue, Blake reached out a careful claw, and ran it across her midnight-black hair. "Worry not. You will get used to it - the first time is always the strongest. You just need to find some way to... work off excessive energy until it wears off." His gentle touch and words had the desired effect, and her bunched muscles relaxed, the look of pain and consternation that had crossed her face as she realized how close she was to going out of control entirely, being replaced by a look of smoldering desire once more. "Work off some energy, you say? Heh... any suggestions? I suppose I could do some jumping jacks or something..."

Chuckling, he leaned back, arching his spine as he thrust his groin forwards, his cock still standing proud and hard. "Well, you could do that... or you could jump on this. I've given you a couple of good rides already, so how 'bout YOU try to do most of the work this time, hmm?" Laughing, she climbed up his body, eager to impale herself on his shaft once more and he quickly wagged a claw at her. "Vaginal, if you please. Last thing you need if a fresh surge of Quickening. Besides, it'll take at least a few more loads to prepare your womb for fertilization... might as well get started, no?" She nodded wordlessly, too busy focusing on finding footing on his hind-legs and hand-holds on his chest, while positioning her groin appropriately over his vertical cock.

Sighing as he felt the tight, moist warmth of her pussy descend over his by-now rather sensitive cockhead, he let his neck crane backwards, to appreciate for a moment the rather extravagant (and densely erotic) fresco ceiling. It was filled with very anatomically correct depictions of interspecies mating, with several Black Dragons mounting raven-haired Riders in the center. Spiraling out around them were human soldiers (albeit somehow missing all armor except the occasional helmet) engaging in some vigorous cross-breeding with women of the various conquered tribes. There was lots of room left around the edges - apparently, it was an ongoing project, with more creatures added as new conquests were made.

Idly, he began to look for the species he had been personally involved in conquering, but it seemed somehow difficult. The ceiling was getting blurry, like it was covered in thin mist, and the light was fading also. Then the sound of Anitra's low moans disappeared as well. Denser and denser the mists grew, until he could see nothing but darkness. He did not feel concerned, though. Rather, he felt... warm and safe, if a bit confined. It was strange, however - he felt, simultaneously, that this was an entirely new sensation, and one he had experienced many, many times before...

The darkness cracked. Holes appeared in it. A flickering light shining through them. More feel away, and he could see again. A towering shadow stood before him, but it did not seem menacing - rather, it was welcoming, exulting. Crackling noises could be heard. He tore at the darkness, and produced more such noises himself. As the darkness around him fell apart, he tumbled out - slick-scaled and weak - and tried to orient himself. The place he was in looked like a temple of some kind - the ceiling vanished into darkness above, braziers burned between equally-towering pillars along the walls. He was on the altar, and he wasn't alone. Behind him, eggshell-fragments were still collapsing into a pile, as many sleek, black bodies emerged blinking into the dancing firelight. Hatchlings. Black, like himself!

"Welcome, my beloved creations. Welcome to the world that you will help make mine." The voice did not boom ominously. It didn't need to. It was loaded with raw authority and bottomless surety - the voice of a god, but one who did not need to shout in order to be obeyed. Blinking, he tried to focus on the source, but he couldn't seem to manage, somehow. It was humanoid, and immense... or was _he_just smaller than he was used to? Either way, he could see no details, identify no features. It did not feel right, however. It did not seem as if this was how it should be - rather, like something was getting in the way, fogging his eyes, hiding the true nature of things from him.

"You, all of you, are my children - for I have planted a fragment of myself in each and every one of you. As my Avatars, you will know untold glory, and will be welcomed and adored by all men - and it is well that it should be so, for you are the mightiest beings upon this world!" A note of pride was clear in the calm, clear voice, and around him, other hatchlings paused from brushing eggshell-fragments off their scales to pay attention. Somehow, through the blur that covered the towering figure, one could still tell that he was smiling. "Well... once you grow up, anyway. Which shan't take long - and a good thing too, for my armies are in need of your aid. For now, however, only know that I am , God of Power and Creator of Mankind - and now, creator of you, my Black Dragons."

The name made Blake wince. Blake. Was that his name? Couldn't be. He'd just been hatched. Before, there was only darkness. How could he have a name? And why couldn't he hear the name of this god who claimed to be his creator? The confusion was making his head hurt, and looking down on his claws - short, stubby, slimy, fresh from the egg - only made it worse. Shouldn't he have long, proud talons? All these other Black Dragons around him, this god telling him that he would be respected and welcomed... it didn't seem right. A part of him insisted that, any moment now, a cruel hand would cast him out, into a cold and uncaring world to fend for himself, hated and feared at every turn. Long-buried memories resurfaced at that thought, making his eyes itch. Surely, he could not be crying... then again, why not? He was a mere hatchling, after all - he could cry and scream as he desired!

As he raised his head to give voice to the confusion and strange, conflicted pain within him, however, he saw mists descending from the unseen ceiling, encircling the pillars in tendrils of white. Bemusement distracted him from his pain as he watched the strange blurriness surrounding the nameless god mix with the enveloping shroud of the mist, until the whole world became first unclear, then disappeared altogether...

The mists cleared, and he found that he was looking up at a starry sky. But it was no ordinary sky - there were way too many stars, and their light was far too sharp and unyielding. They did not twinkle, but merely shone like tiny beacons in the darkness. There was no moon, no stars, and no horizon - and yet, he could see with perfect clarity as he lowered his gaze to the group of beings assembled around the ansible. They were a mixed lot, some humanoid, some not, and no two were alike. Drifting closer, he glanced over one shoulder to see what the ansible was showing. It was the world - winding rivers, green plains, deep forests, mighty mountains crowned by clouds, stretched out like a tabletop before them.

The view changed, growing closer. A chain of mountains came into focus, and amongst the peaks, dragons were dancing. Not black (why was he thinking of black dragons? There were no such thing.) - but every other color was in appearance. They were whirling joyfully through the clouds, tongues of flame bursting from their mouths as they roared with the sheer joy of being alive. "Well, I hate to have to admit it, but those are some damn impressive critters you've made, there..." a rough voice said, and he raised his eyes to glance at the speaker. He was massively built, a wall of muscles with an almost porcine face crowned by horns and tusks. Oh yes... Gork, God of Strength and creator of the Orcs. Foolish, muscle-brained creatures who saw war as being merely an opportunity for each of them to display their individual strength, leading them to fight with less coordination than a pack of wild dogs.

The target of the compliment, however, preened despite its source - and a huge, five-headed dragon (with each head a different color, of course) could preen quite impressively. "Oh yes, I daresay I have crafted the most powerful single being in the world!" crowed Takharsis, Goddess of Greed and creator of the Dragons. "Nothing will be beyond their reach, and none will have the strength to steal from them - such was my design, though I might have exceeded even my own expectations." There was a grumbling around the table, though none directly contradicted her. "Maybe the_single_ most powerful being, Takharsis... but it doesn't seem like there will be very many of them. Low birth-rate, by the look of things. 'Single power' means little when you're outnumbered a thousand to one."

It was the fur-covered God of the Wild, Amok, who had spoken, and one of Takharsis' heads immediately wheeled on him. "Hah. Is that so? And do you think even a THOUSAND of your little puppies could match ONE of my dragons? I would be happy to take that bet, if you like!" "They're called The Warg! And... well, maybe not, but I was speaking in general terms. I mean, what if it was a thousand of Corellon's elves, with all their magic and knowledge?" Amok sounded somewhat pathetic now, clearly not wanting to set a challenge that might lead a thousand of his creations to be incinerated. Corellon, God of Wisdom, however, laughed. "Oh yes, now I_would take _that bet... but it isn't really a fair one. I fear my Elves barely procreate faster than these dragons. Don't be a poor sport, Amok - I know it rankles, but Takharsis truly has crafted something spectacular, and there is little point in denying it. Besides, it's not as if 'power' is somehow the ultimate measure of a being's worth."

A feminine snicker could be heard from somewhere in the crowd near Corellon, who promptly cast him an apologetic look. "Oh, I did not mean it like that, Blake, of course. Besides, your... 'humans' seem to be doing quite well for themselves, so there really is no cause for anyone to laugh." The tall, handsome god cast a withering look behind him, censoring whichever part of his entourage of lesser gods had made the offending noise. "Oh, no worries, Corellon... I am quite happy with my creations. Why, a thousand of them might even beat a dragon!" General, light-hearted laughter spread around the table. None of them understood that he was mocking them, rather than himself. They all thought he had wrought amiss. Failed, somehow, and crafted a weak, pathetic creature that was easily outshone by virtually every other species in existence, never mind these 'dragons' that they were all cooing over now.

None of them understood what power REALLY was. They thought it was strength of arm, magical spells, claws and fangs, impenetrable scales... a damn fiery breath... hah! That wasn't power. Those pathetic beings were just wallowing in the gifts they had been given, destined to remain in the cradle their doting parents had crafted for them, never growing beyond those oh-so-impressive 'powers' with which they were born. But he knew. He had watched his Humans scrabble in the dirt, struggling to survive in a hostile world. Forced to craft weapons, for they had none of their own. Forced to hunt wild beasts, for they lacked pelts of their own. Forced to build great walls to protect themselves, and to tame animals that might lend them the strength they lacked. In overcoming their weakness, they would find_true_ power... and then...

Wait... something was wrong. Corellon... why had he called him 'Blake'? That wasn't his name. Was it? It didn't sound quite right, somehow, even if he hadn't quite twigged to it at the time. No, it was definitely wrong... his name... why couldn't he remember it? No... it was right at the tip of his tongue... it was...

Blake blinked, then groaned. Then he coughed a bit. Bit by bit, the world came into focus as the disorientation faded. It was rather like waking from a dream that you had not, at the time, realized was a dream, but which now stood in stark contrast to solid reality. "Are you okay, love?" A concerned voice asked, while a gentle hand stroked his face. Vision clearing, he glanced up and to the side to see Anitra kneeling by his head, looking every bit as worried as she sounded. "Mostly." he croaked, and then quickly looked around for a water-source. Fortunately, there was a large bucket of fresh, ice-cold water waiting by his bedside, courtesy of past experiences, and he quickly slaked his thirst and wet his aching throat.

"You were out so long... I was really starting to be afraid that we had upped the dose too much this time." She looked down at the ritual-ingredients by his bedside as she spoke, examining the copious notes she had taken as they had gradually upped the dosage of the herb-mix they had obtained the recipe for from the High Priest of Sargonnas. Shrugging, Blake pulled himself out of the huge bed, stretching limbs made sore by his long unconsciousness. "I think it was close. Any more and... well. But we had to try something, in order to get past all those dreary past lives of living in caves and preying on nearby villages until killed by some random band of heroes or adventurers. And... it did work, I think."

Instantly, Anitra's interest was focused like a Magic Missile. "It worked? It did? You managed to reach back to your _first life?_Saw the ORIGIN of the Black Dragons?" He nodded dully, trying to marshal the memories now tumbling around in his mind. "Yes... I think. The DragonRiders too. And... before that. It was all a bit confused. The names, in particular. Everyone was called Blake or Anitra or... didn't have a name. Wasn't this stuff supposed to help you find out if someone had wronged you without retribution in a past life? I'd think names would be important for stuff like that..." Consulting her notes and jotting down a few more, she nodded, brow wrinkled. "Yes... and there's been no mention of it before. None of the earlier test-subjects reported such a phenomenon. Could be a side-effect of the very high dose. Or maybe it's just because you're a Black Dragon. Not like there was anybody around to have or lack names in your previous dreams, so it's hard to say if this is actually the first time it's happened..."

Chuckling, he shook his head. "I'll leave it to you to ponder that. You're practically turning into a sage, lately, with all your notes and studies." Grinning up at him, she put down her notes and quill, stretching sensuously - she had probably been sitting by his head for the entire duration of his dream, so no doubt she was as stiff as him. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment, my love. Anyway, what did you see? What did you learn? Don't keep me in suspense!" Wincing, he looked away. "I think I might have to. It's all jumbled up. Confusing. I think there are some actual memories mixed up in there. And... other stuff. I'll need some time to marshal my thoughts, get it all straightened out in my head. THEN you can write it down for posterity."

She pouted, very prettily he thought. "Oh, come on... well, fine, I guess. As long as you're sure you aren't going to forget. After the way this worked, I'm not sure I'd like to see you go on another 'trip' like that. I hadn't really thought of how risky it could be, honestly." He shrugged, and returned to his bed to settle down again. "Life is dangerous, love. Especially when you're a Black Dragon. Anyway, let's just... talk about something else. Something ordinary. Help me relax so I can gather my thoughts." She made a 'why not' kind of shrug and settled down against his flank, as he pondered the reason why he had said that. Sure, it could be relaxing, just chatting about this and that, but... there was more to it. He still felt disoriented, displaced. He wanted to reorient himself, remind himself of the very real life he had here, with her, and Direza and Melora.

"Well, then..." she said brightly "Since you want to change the subject, maybe I could ask you to cast that handy little curse, you know, on Direza again?" His brow wrinkled, and he craned his neck to look at her. "The Curse of Belayed Pleasure? Again, already? Now what has she done?" Anitra, however, just laughed. "Oh, nothing in particular - or rather, I'm sure I can come up with a suitable excuse. It hardly matters - it's not like I'm_really_ punishing her, any more than those carefully-tuned tortures of yours really punish Melora. Direza gets off on being humiliated, even when she can't actually get off, in the physical sense - or rather, especially then. Being used for the pleasure of others while her own pleasure is denied her arouses her to a downright paradoxical sense. And, of course, there's the way she seems to tie herself into complicated knots when I finally let her cum after a few days of building up pressure. It seems so fun I'm_almost_ tempted to try it myself." She grinned, lifting a pair of fingers to show a rather short distance. "_Almost._But only almost."

Laughing, he nodded. "Well, sure, happy to help. Though, if it's going to see that much use, maybe we should have a ring crafted with that power, like I did with the Summon Penis and Blessing of Eternal Erection spells earlier." Then he saw her lifted eyebrow, and sighed. "...but of course, you've already thought of that and probably placed the order." She stuck out her tongue at him, grinning. "Well, yeah. It's going to take a while, though. The Artificers that get invited here tends to be the GOOD kind, you know? The nice ones. And that spell is, after all, technically a curse, which makes any enchanted item with it imbued a Cursed Item. 'Good' Artificers tend not to have much experience creating Cursed Items, so..." then she interrupted herself with a laugh. "On the bright side, when they DO get it finished, whoever puts it on won't be able to take it off without the secret command-word or some really powerful magic. Makes it even better for a proper 'punishment'. And just imagine if it somehow winds up in some random treasure-chest somewhere and some adventurer stumble on it... or better yet, BOTH of the rings!"

They laughed at this thought together for a bit, and as it petered off, Blake glanced over at the door to the servants' quarters. "Speaking of, where ARE those two? I figure I'd be able to hear them rutting if they were in their room." This made Anitra giggle and Blake raise a suspicious eyebrow. "Ahem. Well! They're out and about. I had a chat with them earlier, you see. They were wondering if they might be allowed to accompany us next time we go traveling, whenever_that_ may be. So I told them that if they wanted that to be considered, they needed to train for it!" His eyebrow rose another half-inch. "I see... so, are they running laps around the crater and swimming in the lake for exercise, then? Or maybe getting into fist-fights with jaguars down in the jungle to train their combat-skills, or lifting boulders down in the mine to build muscle?"

She shook her head, grinning mischievously. "Noooot... exactly. I mean, the two of us should be able to handle most direct physical threats, no? And both of them are already skilled combatants, for that matter. So I suggested that they instead practice stealth and scouting - that seems useful, no? For intelligence-gathering and slipping into places where we can't go by main force, and whatnot." He nodded, slowly. "Uh-huh. Makes perfect sense. Now - what, exactly, did you tell them to do, Anitra?"

Direza and Melora moved casually through the Marketplace, getting as close to 'blending in' as they could anywhere in the Utopia. As a bipedal horse and a Drow Elf, they still stood out, even amongst the half-dozen or so different races currently populating what was, nonetheless, colloquially known as the 'human quarter' - but at least they were roughly the same size as everybody else. In the dragon-populated areas, they tended to stand out like a pair of sore thumbs wherever they went, from the wide, featureless corridors to the various common rooms. They'd hoped to disappear into the constant, joyful bustle that was the huge, communal kitchens, but no sooner had they entered than they were the center of attention. After all, they were known to be servants of Lord Blake and Lady Anitra, so of course they were immediately asked if perhaps their masters had gotten peckish and required a snack?

Direza, whose past 'career' had taught her how to lie quickly, efficiently, and with a perfectly straight face, had quickly dissembled and told the dragon-chefs that they had just been passing by on an errand and thought they'd pop in to see if they could liberate some light snacks. She'd been hoping that making it clear that they were the peckish ones, rather than their masters, would cause the dragons to lose interest - but she had underestimated the Utopia-dragons' generosity of spirit, or perhaps their own popularity - rather than just being offhandedly told to go ahead and scavenge around for a bite if they were hungry, they were swiftly loaded down with suitable snacks and, indeed, requests to sample this-or-that. With the growing number of non-dragons residing in the Utopia, several of the chefs had started specializing in providing food suitable for their diminutive guests, and they were only too happy to have a pair of test-subjects along.

And so, they'd soon been forced to retreat - burping and carrying a small armful of fresh fruits and a cocktail-wiener. (Well, a DRACONIC cocktail-wiener, which for a human-sized individual constituted a good-sized salami.) The kitchen had, as they'd suspected, been full of excellent hiding-spots, what with the selection of dragon-sized pots, pans, barrels and sacks - but there had been effectively no way to disappear from view long enough to slip into one. Thus, they'd had no choice but to head towards the human quarters, where they could at least try to blend in.

What was now the Marketplace had started out as a common-room, cleared out for the first sages and craftsmen who were invited to visit and stay. Now, it had become the locus of all the various merchants, craftsmen, enchanters, alchemists and other service-providers who had set down roots in the Utopia, dealing with both the dragons, one another, and the occasional, visiting caravans. The general habitats had, in the meantime, spilled over into a number of neighboring, dragon-sized apartments, each of which now contained a small village worth of people, living in primitive shacks that made them resemble nothing so much as an indoor shanty-town. Considering the number of local craftsmen, they could easily have built something better, but nobody seemed in a hurry to - the simple sheds provided privacy and a place to sleep, and since they were in out of the weather and the temperature was pleasant year-round, there was no need for anything more elaborate. Nor were lockable doors needed in a place that had abolished all currency - especially considering that any reported crime would swiftly bring down an annoyed silver dragon with a truth-sensing spell ready on hand.

Regardless, both Direza and Melora had gone on errands to the marketplace often enough that they weren't afforded any excess of attention, except from a few familiar faces who wanted to know if their Lord and Lady had any more challenging or intriguing tasks for them. And so, with nothing more than a few polite conversations as their passport, they managed to slip behind the back row of crudely-built storefronts, where a narrow alleyway separated them from the back wall of the room itself. Still, various supplies were piled there, and every now and then, a craftsman would emerge around the side of his stall in search of something - so it was hardly a hiding-place by itself.

Exploring it, however, they found the perfect spot. Several small 'tunnels' had been carved in the walls that separated the old common-room of the Marketplace from the more habitat-centered rooms (with the dragons' blessing, of course), thus saving the human-sized residents from having to take huge detours to and from the Marketplace. Most of them were in frequent use, but this one wasn't - presumably because the other end of it was blocked by a stack of wood that extended nearly to the tunnel's ceiling. Most likely, somebody had rather inconsiderately put them aside there as building-materials for a shed or storefront, then forgotten about them... and what with there being several other passages, and this one being somewhat inconveniently located in a particularly narrow part of the alley (Melora had to basically walk sideways), nobody had bothered to clear it again, leaving it to fall into disuse.

Slipping into the tunnel, they looked around. It was basically a tiny room, with a back wall provided by the rough pile of boards and wooden beams, and only the narrow alleyways on either side for exits. The bustle of the marketplace was still clearly audible, however - they weren't even a stone's throw from the busiest part of the human quarter, but here and now, they were effectively invisible. A perfect spot to lurk, listen, even observe through the cracks in the roughly-constructed back wall of the enchanter's store that penned them in so effectively.

Now that they had finally found a suitable hidey-hole, Direza suddenly felt nervous and awkward, glancing around the small area as if to reassure herself that they were, indeed, alone. Melora, meanwhile, looked unconcerned, merely reaching into her belt to withdraw a ring, which she quietly slipped onto her finger. The magic activated in two stages - first, a heavy horsecock uncoiled from beneath the simple skirt she was wearing, dangling pendulously. Then, it hardened, rising steadily upwards and pulling the hem of the skirt with it without Melora ever needing to touch it. Direza watched, hypnotized - she'd had sex with Melora using the Ring of Priap (as Anitra had dubbed the handy little item) several times over past couple of weeks, and before that, too, when Lord Blake had to cast the spell himself every time. But she'd rarely had a chance to watch it appear like that, or really appreciate its size and girth.

She was still staring at it, hypnotized by the way it bobbed and swayed, when Melora leaned forwards and whispered in her ear. "Slut." Then she moaned, feeling the heavy, floor-length cloak she wore vaporize, disappearing from her shoulder. What she now wore instead was not, at least, the 'pet-outfit' that had first been merged into it, but a getup that was nearly as bad. High-heeled shoes she could barely balance on were on her feet, while thigh-high black stockings covered her legs, held in place with a bottomless garter-belt. Her arms were clad in equally-long black silk gloves, and her neck in a black leather collar - complete with a dangling lead that anyone could grab, especially as the suddenly-manifested steel cuffs pulled her arms together behind her. Beyond that, she was entirely naked. She had been delighted when Mistress Anitra had presented her with the outfit... and mortified that Melora had been included in the spell, enabling either her or Mistress Anitra to activate it with the trigger-word.

The vivid memory of that humiliation - being put at the disposal not just of Mistress Anitra, but also of Melora, a fellow servant - made her suddenly-naked pussy gush. Her arousal did not at all diminish when Melora, grinning lustily, pointed down. Getting down to her knees with her hands bound behind her back was an awkward maneuver, made more-so by the ludicrously high heels she was wearing, and this reminder of her helplessness further ramped up her desires as she leaned in to begin kissing the large, heavy pair of dangling, light-brown testicles that had appeared between the mare's legs when she put on the ring.

As she gradually licked her way up the thick, swaying shaft above, she reflected that it was, perhaps, not so surprising that Melora should dominate her so easily. Nevermind the mare's sheer physical size and muscular strength - indeed, her large hands, calloused by the weapon-training she still maintained could probably have broken Direza's own, slender body in halves with ease - there was also the question of the interplay between Lady Anitra and Lord Blake. However delightfully ruthless Mistress Anitra could be, and the clear love that bound the Rider and her Dragon to one another, there was no question that Lord Blake was the dominant one of the two... at least in sexual matters. So it was, in a sense, natural that Melora, who served Lord Blake directly, should have the confidence necessary to take the dominant position in their little relationship.

And as for the fact that she, herself, was the former High Priest of Lolth, and had once reigned over the entirety of the Drow People, while Melora had been nothing more than a farmer's daughter before running away to become an adventurer... well, that just added yet another level of humiliation-driven arousal to the situation, making little rivulets of hot pussy-juice run down her inner thighs as the common-born savage grabbed her head and forcefully thrust a thick, fleshy cockhead into her mouth. A mini-orgasm shook her, even though none of her purportedly erogenous zones were even being touched, and she eagerly bobbed her head, wishing that her throat had the same unnatural flexibility as Mistress Anitra's so that she could properly pleasure the rough-handed mare standing over her.

Melora, meanwhile, just grinned as she forced Direza to bob her head over the thick shaft, repeatedly hitting the back of the slim drow's throat. These little games of dominance didn't really do anything for her, she reflected - well, not when she was on top, at any rate. But it wasn't as if it was particularly difficult, and she rather enjoyed the sex, especially since she'd started to gain a taste for what she privately thought of as 'mascusex'. Lady Anitra was the one who came up with the games and challenges, so all she had to do was play along, and act suitably callous when fucking Direza - whom she knew from experience was nowhere near as delicate as she looked. And, well, she liked the elf-girl, and doing stuff like this clearly got her off to no end. So, she happily played along whenever it didn't get in the way of her service to Master Blake.

With a grunt, she pushed Direza's head back again. "Enough of that. Up against the wall, and stick out your ass." She spoke softly, but firmly - the softness being largely due to the fact that nothing more than a few yards of air and a thin wooden wall separated them from a busy marketplace. Direza's eyes darted towards said wall for a moment as she was thus reminded that her violation was taking place in a somewhat public place, and bit her lip - no doubt remembering how Lady Anitra had stopped her from bringing a gag along for the trip.

Between her back-bound arms and her high heels, however, her attempt to get on her feet was ultimately unsuccessful - leaving her to clumsily fall over on her side, floundering like a landed fish. Knowing that the sense of helplessness was a large part of the appeal for Direza - a notion she well understood from her own bondage-games with Master Blake, though he rarely bothered to restrain her with anything other than his own power - she let the girl struggle on the floor for a minute more, before she sighed and simply reached down to grab her by the wrist, lifting and turning her right-side-up before setting her down again and giving her a shove towards the wall. Direza staggered a bit, but managed to reach the wall without further mishaps - shuddering as she went, no doubt relishing the sense of being thus manhandled... a sentiment Melora understood particularly well.

What with her tied hands, Direza had to lean her upper body directly against the wall, resting the side of her face as well as her erect, rock-hard nipples against the rough stone. Meanwhile, she spread her legs, pushing her hips out and her ass up, as commanded. Grunting with approval, Melora stepped up behind her and put one hand on her hips, while the other granted her throbbing erection towards the elf's still-tight asshole. The flat head of her equine cock always made such entry difficult, especially if the tiny orifice hadn't been prepared beforehand - be it by a tongue, some fingers, or a smaller toy. But she'd received specific instructions from Lady Anitra... and at least she hadn't flared, yet.

Direza groaned through clenched teeth as Melora's unyielding strength pushed the spongy cockhead against her sphincter, until finally the tight little ring of muscles gave way and parted before the forceful intruder. Her slim buttocks split by the thick meat-log, she gasped, eyes wide-open as pain radiated from her tender asshole. Melora licked her lips as she watched the forcibly-stretched sphincter-muscles tremble, and wished it was hers. There were many flavors of pain, and many ways to combine them with pleasure for a grand symphony of sensation - a fact that she had come to appreciate to an even greater degree recently, what with Master Blake's... experimentation - but the simple pain/pleasure combo of having your ass stretched open by a too-large intruder was one that she just never got tired of.

After giving Direza just a bare handful of moments to adjust to the pain, she shifted her hand to grip the elf-girl's locked-together wrists, and using them as a handhold, began to push herself deeper and deeper inside the tight asshole. She was well aware that she wouldn't be able to fit her full length inside the slightly-built elf, but she_also_ knew that it was possible to fit a good deal more than one might have guessed. And sure enough, there was barely a handful of inches of her spit-slickened shaft left out in the air when her cockhead finally bumped against an impenetrable barrier, drawing a fresh, half-strangled gasp from Direza.

Having freshly gauged the (rather impressive) capacity of the Drow-elf's asshole, she once again waited for a few moments, watching the ashen-skinned girl breathe rapidly as she tried to cope with her impalement. Then, she started to thrust - long, smooth, powerful thrusts, never stopping before they met the sharp bend at the top of the colon, pushing her against the wall in the process. Her cockhead, surrounded by the ultra-tight, moist heat of the well-filled asshole, had already flared, and now its edges raked across the full length of Direza's already overstretched insides with every stroke.

Nearby, they could both hear a visiting craftsman talking shop with the enchanter whose store they were hiding behind. Their voices carried quite clearly as they started debating the relative merits of various materials in metalwork versus spellwork, and Direza locked her jaw together with a choking sound as she struggled to stay silent despite the vigorous buggering she was receiving. The pain was fading as her ass - which had, after all, been stretched widely before - adapted to Melora's horse-sized cock, and now the pleasure was rising instead... neatly stacking itself on top of the arousal she was already feeling at the humiliating, embarrassing, and just altogether mortifying situation she was in.

Her only clothes were gloves and stockings, designed to emphasize her body rather than hide any part of it. She was wearing high heels and a collar, and had her hands locked behind her back as a tall, muscular, equine shemale vigorously fucked her against the wall of a debris-strewn back-alley, taking her ass with casual ease. If anyone heard them and came back there to investigate, they'd know at a glance what an utter, filthy slut she was. She, who had once sat on a throne and commanded legions! It was all just too much - her teeth bloodied her lower lip as she struggled to choke down the orgasmic scream that was so enthusiastically trying to make its way out of her throat.

"Huh... didya hear something?" "Hear what?" Dunno. Thought I heard a noise. Wonder if there's rats in this place? Never seen one, but that don't mean much." "Eh, I suspect rats are too sensible to set up shop 'round here. Probably just some kids playing hide-and-seek in the alleyway." "Eh, sounds 'bout right. Now, what was it you were saying about electrum?" The conversation in the nearby enchanter's store drifted back to harmless subjects as Direza, blushing equally from embarrassment and the orgasm, fiercely wished that she could at least cover her mouth with a hand. Melora, meanwhile, had never stopped thrusting, with the sensation of the elf's ass-muscles clamping down on her cock as the climax rolled through them having apparently just spurred her on to even fiercer fucking.

Between the powerful thrusts and the embarrassment of near-discovery, it didn't take long for Direza to climb towards a fresh climax and, barely recovered from the previous one, she found it increasingly hard to silence the moans, pants and groans that naturally wanted to escape her lips. Just when the pleasure reached the point where she barely even cared who might hear her scream, however, a merciful hand reached forth to cover the lower half of her face. Thus holding her by head and wrists, Melora whinnied through clenched teeth and pulled her back while thrusting her own hips forwards and upwards in orgasmic fury.

Being essentially lifted off the ground like this, fully impaled on the rampaging horsecock lodged up her ass, feeling white-hot cum flooding her bowels, she came again - gratefully moaning freely into the muffling hand. She dangled there for a few seconds, toes barely scraping the ground as she rested heavily against the stone wall - only when Melora had finished unleashing the payload of her magically-summoned balls was she released and allowed to collapse shakily to her knees, unable to stand without the supporting rod in her ass.

"There it is again! I'm sure I heard something this time." "Eh, I didn't hear nuffin'. But if you're so sure, you can always go check behind this shack you call a store and find out where it's coming from." Direza heard the nearby voices as she lazily turned herself around - still on her knees, not trusting her legs. Lost in the post-orgasmic bliss, they didn't seem very important. Her duties came first. Pulling herself up a bit, she looked admiringly at the still rock-hard horse-cock that stood proudly before her, stained along its thick shaft by traces of cum and... other things. Then, obedient to the lessons her Mistress had taught her, she licked it clean, careful to cover every last square inch with her tongue.

"Eh, can't be arsed. I'd have to get out of my chair! And somehow, I suspect that I might return to find my ale mysteriously gone." A chuckling answered the voice. "Heh. Now that's the mighty brainpower of an enchanter in action! Truly, wiser words were never spoken. 'sides, I told you, it's probably just some kids playing around." The voices faded into irrelevance as she finished her task, letting her tongue delicately explore every wrinkle of Melora's broadly-flared cockhead. She couldn't help but feel somewhat bemused, viewing it from so close - how had that fit through her teeny asshole? Not that it was so tiny right now - it was still gaping and pulsing, dripping cum on the floor as she labored.

Once she had finished, Melora leaned down to pat her on the head, and then whispered "Walkies..." in her ear. That the command-word for returning her clothes to the form of a heavy, concealing cloak remained unchanged from when it was originally enchanted was, of course, a particularly humiliating detail - and she felt her ardor, so recently satisfied, begin to return as she got to her no-longer-heel-clad feet. Melora, meanwhile, slipped the ring from her finger, causing her huge erection to vanish like a soap-bubble in a gale, and her skirt to fall back into place. Short of the slight flush to both their faces - more visible on Direza's fair, if ash-grey, skin than on Melora's, thanks to her thin but still concealing coat - there was nothing to indicate what they'd just been up to.

Clapping her on the shoulder, Melora grinned down at her delicately-built friend. "Well, that's one good place we've found! And still undiscovered, at that. Where should we look next?" Shuddering slightly at the thought of all they still needed to do, she then shook herself and tried to focus. "How about the caravansary down in the courtyard? Where there are caravans there are stables, and where there are stables there are haylofts..." The tall horse-woman nodded quickly. "Sounds like a plan! Heh... with a bit of luck, we can have a good old-fashioned, country-style roll-in-the-hay. Bet you've never tried that before!" Direza refrained from answering as she edged her way down the narrow alleyway towards the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, grateful that her hooded cloak would conceal her blushing.

Groaning, Blake shook his head. "Seriously... well, okay, it IS kind of funny, and I DO rather like the mental image of those two sneaking into a secluded corner somewhere for a quickie, but... you know_that while the dragons wouldn't care if they found them, most of the_humans around here are still stuffy old sages and master craftsmen who would be shocked right out of their white beards if they should happen to catch those two rutting in a side-tunnel somewhere. And five times? They'd have to be pretty lucky to avoid discovery if you've tasked them to find that many public locations suitable for secret sex." Anitra, however, airily dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand. "Oh, pffft... an occasional shock is good for you. Gets the blood pumping. Besides, part of the reason they're bringing people here in the first place is so they can learn from our 'utopian society', right? That should include that delightfully liberal attitude towards sexuality that the local dragons have adopted, if you ask me."

"Eventually, yes." he nodded. "But you have to bring them around slowly. Bit by bit. Too many new ideas on top of each other might scare them away, or convince them that we are more depraved than enlightened." Raising an eyebrow, Anitra looked up at him in surprise. "Well, okay then. Hah. If I'm turning into a sage, you're turning into a politician. Have you actually started to pay attention in the council-meetings lately, or something?" He could feel himself blushing at that, and thanked his lucky stars that such things were quite invisible underneath his black scales. "Well... somewhat, maybe. I didn't understand half of what they were on about at first, but... we've been living here a while, now, and you pick things up along the way. Besides, if I am to represent the Dragon Utopia abroad, I should probably know what it's actually about. It occurred to me recently that I really didn't know, and... well, I decided to rectify that." He wrinkled his nose, then, and shrugged. "I still don't really understand the idea behind it all, but... eh, one step at a time."

Anitra nodded, her grin suddenly looking more pleased than mischievous, and leaned back against his flank again. "All right then. If I send them out on a 'mission' like that again, I'll make sure to take precautions against political consequences. Fair enough?" He sighed again, but more in jest than real exasperation. It was impossible to really get upset with Anitra. "I suppose it'll have to do." After that, they sat in silence for a bit, simply enjoying each other's company. Then, deceptively casually, he asked "Say, Anitra... who created the humans, anyway?"

Blinking, Anitra pushed herself upright to look at him. "That's kind of random, isn't it?" He just shrugged. "Well, I suppose, but it's been on my mind. I mean, the dragons were created by the Dragon-Goddess Takharsis, and the Elves were created by the Elf-God Corellon, and the Orcs by the Orc-God Gork, and so on and so forth... but humans have a bunch of different gods, right?" Returning the shrug, Anitra leaned back again and pulled on her lower lip. "Well... yeah. Seems like every region has their own favorite, and none of them get along that well. In Caristad, where I grew up, most folks worshiped Torm, God of Justice. Probably still do, if they've rebuilt the place." She paused for a second there, before continuing in a light tone of voice. "Same with most of the neighboring city-states. His high temple's in Mimbre, which is pretty close by - and nobody wants to get on Mimbre's bad side, what with their knights and such. We still got quite a few missionaries from the Church of the Allfather, though - and even a few small communities around the margins with their own gods."

Apparently shaking off the remembrance, she continued in a somewhat more measured tone. "But to answer the question... it depends on which church you ask. About the only thing they seem to agree on is that it was a team project, with various gods pitching in various traits and so on. They just disagree about exactly which gods were involved, and what each of them did. For some reason, they all tend to be quite certain that THEIR god was responsible for the really good stuff, like wits, creativity or ambition. As opposed to, I dunno, being the one who gave us armpit-hair or something." She smiled wryly at this, and Blake chuckled appropriately before laying his head down on his bed with a thoughtful look on his face. "I see... very interesting. It's always nice to learn something new..."

Then he distracted Anitra's growing suspicion by querying her about lunch-options, as his mind steadily wheeled. If the things he had seen in that misty dream were true, it was clearly a secret lost to time, and very carefully hidden at that. Especially the last bit. Had he really stood in the boots of a god, looking down upon the dawn of creation? It seemed a ludicrous notion, now that he was back in his (comparatively) mundane life. And yet, there was a ring of truth to it, an indelible certainty... yes, particularly that very last bit... but how much of it should he tell Anitra about, fired up as she was about discovering the secrets of their kind? Some secrets were better left buried, after all...

THE END

Don't get your hopes up for answers to deep and ancient questions in the next chapter - but I hope you will tune in nonetheless, and witness the Birth of a Dictator.