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"Oh, would you look at that," Telitaya heard, lifting her head from a tome she was studying to regard her mate. Xyiandyir, the slender pale blue dragon, stood framed in the doorway, a provocative grin stretching across his long snout. His imposing member rose with an eager stiffness, starkly outlined against the creamy scales of his belly. As if presenting a gift to his cherished mate, the sight of his dangling testicles, bereft of their usual encasement, drew Telitaya's emerald gaze. The naked testicles rested gently against the scales of his inner thighs, drawn together with a twisted wreath of yellow and green leaves and small red berries. "Looks like I'm owed a kiss."

"Quite the presentation, my dear Xyi," Telitaya purred, her voice laced with amusement as she stood, stretched, and sauntered closer. Her talons clicked against the floor as she approached her mate, who shivered in anticipation, his eyes gleaming with excitement as the dragoness approached.

"Only the best for you, Telitaya," he replied, chest puffing with pride under her inspection, the heat of anticipation pooling within him. There was no other that he could indulge in such dark, carnal secrets with, no other that he would even want to.

Her dexterous claws reached out, cradling his exposed orbs with an intimacy that sent a shiver up Xyiandyir's spine. He had seen them slice through the stems of bamboo saplings in their garden, truncating branches of oak and maple without a second thought, and now those powerful blades cuddled up under his prized, sensitive, delicate testicles. He didn't breath, as she weighed his maleness in her grasp, the tender flesh yielding to her squeeze, and her touch was both an invocation and a promise.

"Such ripe fruits you offer," she teased, her thumbs caressing the smooth surface of his testicles, "Perhaps I should pluck them from their vine tonight." Her words, delicate yet deliberate, stoked the fire inside him, coursing through his veins like liquid desire.

His heart hammered against his ribcage, a drumbeat syncing to the rhythm of his arousal. Xyiandyir leaned into her caress, his body tensing with the pleasurable contradiction of vulnerability and eagerness.

"Would you, Telitaya?" he managed to rasp out, throat tight with need. "Would you... destroy me?" He glanced down, his cock pulsing harder as he took in the sight of his eggs in her outstretched palm. "Lords, would you take them from me? The orbs that make me a male?"

The explicit promise hung in the air between them, a tantalizing scent that promised both danger and delight. Xyiandyir's breath hitched, his shaft throbbing with approval, preening under Telitaya's hungry gaze. He imagined himself peeled open, an offering laid bare for her consumption--a banquet of pleasure and pain intermingled.

With a deft tug that bordered on savagery, Telitaya's claws curled around the mistletoe-adorned cords of Xyiandyir's testicles. The pale blue dragon gasped as the sharp pull sent a thrilling mixture of pain and ecstasy shooting through him. His legs wobbled, but he sturdy his stance, allowing her to lead him onward with the weighty globes of his manhood in her firm grasp.

"Ah, my fierce queen," Xyiandyir purred, delighting in the way she manhandled him with such authority. It was this primal assertion of her dominance that ignited a deeper flame within his loins, making his stiff cock twitch in earnest. He could feel his arousal mounting, the rough treatment coaxing his desire to swell within, an eclipse of lust and love that eliminated all rational thought of self preservation.

She dragged him, and he dragged his feet, thrilling as she tugged him behind her with his testicular leash. The bedroom loomed before them, its threshold crossed with a shared sense of ritual, a sanctum where their most intimate dance would unfold. The things that they had done in this sacred oubliette, this space of love and trust and vulnerability. Not too often, not all the time, but when the mood struck, like it did tonight, there was no saying what might happen between them.

Once inside, Telitaya released her hold and turned to playfully shove the male dragon onto his back on the bed. She stared down at him imperiously, her lips pulled back in a smirk as she sized him up, before turning to fetch a silken cable from the drawer of their ornate bedside cabinet.

Xyiandyir watched, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, as she expertly looped one end of the cable around the bundle of mistletoe, securing it with a knot known only to lovers of their kind. With a flick of her wrist, she hoisted the other end over a sturdy hook affixed to the ceiling, giving the cable a firm yank that elevated his balls, stretching the cords taut. He groaned, and she chuckled, turning to point at the plant that now was stretched above him, his cock leaking stiffly against his belly as it pointed towards his chin.

"Look! A mistletoe!" Telitaya declared, her voice dripping with seductive mischief as she looked down at Xyiandyir. Her eyes sparkled with mirth and a predatory gleam. "You know what that means."

"Indeed I do," Xyiandyir replied, his heart pounding against his chest like a primal drum, echoing the deep, carnal rhythm of their foreplay. Each upward strain of the cable sent ripples of pleasure coursing through him, binding him to her will. He arched his back, his hips thrust as far upwards as he could while balanced on his elbows and feet in the slippery, silken sheets of their shared bed. "Under the mistletoe, one must surrender," he managed to say, his words laced with a raw edge of vulnerability. "I am at your mercy, my emerald temptress."

"Mercy?" Telitaya echoed, her tongue tracing the outline of her lips as she surveyed his bound form. "No, my love. Under the mistletoe, you shall find no mercy--only the deepest depths of pleasure and desire. Tonight, I'll take what I want from you," she teased. "Perhaps in the morning you'll still be a male... perhaps not. I suppose it all depends on how good of a dragon you've been this year."

Xyiandyir's pale blue scales flushed a deeper hue, the color of twilight skies during a winter's dusk, as he gazed up at Telitaya adoringly. "I've been a very good dragon," he whispered, feeling the flush of embarrassment in his cheeks, his nostrils as he spoke so plainly.

"Have you, though?" She teased. "I can think of several ways that you might be considered... naughty. Which is a dangerous thing, for you, when you have such large, tender, squeezable orbs." Her claws, delicate and deadly, traced the taut surface of his testes, exploring them with the precision of an artist admiring the curves of a cherished sculpture.Her finger tips pressed against the soft flesh, crushing it between them with the edges of the claws resting just against the soft naked flesh of his testes.

"Telitaya," he moaned through gritted teeth, the raw edge of his longing slicing through the air between them. "Your touch is a brutal, crushing blade. You will spare me, right?"

"Perhaps. If I do, it will only be because you deserve it to. You are willing to convince me that you deserve to keep your balls, aren't you?" she replied, amusement lacing her words as she watched him squirm under her ministrations. The scent of their arousal mingled, a potent perfume that filled the chamber, swathing around and between them.

As Xyiandyir felt the pressure build within him, threatening to crest in a wave of ecstasy that would sweep him off his feet, he wondered how much more tension his body could withstand. Could he survive the tempest she stirred within him without being torn asunder? "Of course, absolutely. Allow me to prove myself to you, my love," he gasped, his eyes watering with his pain, his cock seeping with his pleasure.

"Very well," she said with a mischievous smirk. In one fluid movement, green scales shimmering against the ambient light of the room, Telitaya descended upon Xyiandyir, aligning herself in the intimate configuration of the sixty-nine. She took his eager length into her mouth, lavishing the full attention of her lips and tongue against his shaft, feeling it buck and throb immediately as she coaxed him with her magical pleasure.

"Ah, Telitaya!" Xyiandyir cried out, his voice cracking under the strain of pleasure. Waves of warmth cascaded from where her lips met his flesh, rippling through him, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He reached for her, his tongue seeking the moist haven of her own need, tasting the essence of her as she writhed above him. The world narrowed to the dance of their bodies entwined, each movement, each breath an ode to their passion.Then, she pressed against him, and his mouth kissed against her intimately. His breath huffing against the soft, warm flesh between her legs, as his tongue snaked up and into her. tasting and licking slowly alongside her.

Xyiandyir's world had narrowed to the taste of her, the silken heat of Telitaya's folds enveloping his tongue as he drank deeply from her wellspring. Her musk filled his senses, a heady aroma that melded with the salty tang of sweat and desire on his palate. His claws dug into the bedding, anchoring him to the moment, to the undulating rhythm of their bodies moving in tandem.

"You're so close, aren't you, my fierce dragon?" Telitaya's voice was a sultry murmur, her breath hot against his throbbing member. "So needy. So pent up. Let it go for me."

"Telitaya," Xyiandyir's voice was strained, his mind teetering on the brink as her inner walls clenched around his probing tongue. The dam within him was about to break, and he could do nothing but surrender to the tidal wave. "Please-" But it was too late. She strummed him like a harp, knowing exactly what to do, years of these tortures, of these studies, having taught her everything she needed to get him off regardless of his intentions.

His climax crashed over him like a raging storm, his seed bursting forth in fervent pulses. At the same moment, Telitaya shuddered above him, her own release cascading down, the nectar of her passion flooding his mouth. He savored every drop, the intimate gift from his beloved, consuming her essence as if it were life itself.

They fed on each other, he licking languidly inside her, his tongue probing and teasing, and her lapping and gnawing softly, teasingly against his shaft that pulsed out it's slick hot load against the back of her throat. His essence spurted outwards, painting the warm cavern of her maw with streaks of pearly white. She caught each spasm with a ravenous delight, swallowing him down, claiming every last drop as her own.

The intensity of his pleasure was magnified by the tension in his loins, where the mistletoe-bound cords stretched taut with each throb of his heart. Telitaya shifted her weight, pressing down upon him. He felt the pull, the delicious agony of being stretched to his limits, the threat of tearing flesh adding an edge of exquisite pain to the pleasure.

"Gods, Telitaya," he gasped, the sensation driving him wilder, his climax intensifying under the duress. "I--I feel like they're going to...to--"

"Rip right off?" she finished for him, her tone teasing yet laced with an intoxicating dominance. "That's what makes it so thrilling, my love."

The room was hushed, save for the ragged panting of Xyiandyir, his chest heaving as he dangled from the stretched cable, precariously tethered by the mistletoe-bound cords. The pain and pleasure melded into a lingering burn that etched every nerve ending with exquisite detail. His shaft still throbbed, a bead of cum glistening at the tip like the morning's first dew.

"Stay put, my fierce drake," Telitaya cooed, her voice silk woven through the thick air. She disentangled herself from their entwined forms with a languid grace, muscles shimmering in the dim light. "Hang around for a bit," she chuckled, "And I'll be riiiiiiiight back." Her words dripped with promise, leaving a trail of anticipation that prickled across his scales.

Left in her wake, Xyiandyir could do little more than obey, his limbs quivering with exertion. The stretching sensation tugged insistently at his consciousness, a relentless reminder of his vulnerability. He felt the cool air kiss his heated flesh, contrasting sharply with the warmth of his mate's recent touch. His mind, a once roaring tempest, now ebbed to a churning tide, thoughts rolling over each other: desire, pain, adoration.

His gaze followed her retreating figure, memorizing the sway of her hips, the confident cadence of her steps. Each movement spoke of her dominion over him, a truth he welcomed like the sun welcomes the dawn. His body strained against the pull, the tension holding him suspended in a moment that seemed to stretch on forever.

"Ah, the things you do to me," he murmured, the words barely a whisper, each one laced with reverence for the dragoness who had captured his heart--and held his balls in such a literal clutch. The ache was profound, both torment and treasure, an intimate dance between agony and bliss where he willingly surrendered the lead.

He imagined her return, the continuation of their carnal feast, the next chapter of delectation she would author upon his flesh. What delicious torments might she concoct while away? The thought sent another shiver through him, anticipation curling tight in his belly. She would be back, any minute now. She wouldn't leave him hanging like this.

And then, he realized, with sick excitement and dread, that she absolutely would.