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They gave me a fucking weapon. Xynon could hardly suppress his glee. The sexy little dragoness from the closet, Samsara, was the one to dress him. The entire time, Glyph was in the room. While Xynon entertained far from innocent daydreams, the dragoness was the picture of a perfect servant. He knew instantly that she had a thing for her master. As she leaned in to tighten the leather straps on his side, Xynon growled seductively. Samsara pretended not to notice, but his keen canine nose caught a familiar whiff of her subtle arousal.

Armored in brown studded leather emblazoned with the Geart flame--rather quite similar to his own flame now that he thought about it--Xynon was led to the grand hall. He kept his paw on the wooden handle of his simple blade the entire time, as if drawing power from it. His job was to protect the dragon who was guarding the eastern doors. A little surprise was in store for the feather dusters who were here for the banquet. Xynon didn't even try to keep the cocky grin off his face.

Once he was in situation, the brown cloak who escorted him explained his job to him once again. Once the signal was given, he was to be prepared for battle. Xynon nodded and waved him away impatiently, one paw still rested on the pommel of his sword. The only thing he enjoyed more than fucking was fighting. He was anxious to get the show on the road.

A royal affair, the proceedings before the banquet took their damn time. Xynon had a good view of the whole room and he watched halfheartedly the various entertainment around the room. Several fools juggled knives and breathed fire, an exotic dancer shook her hips at one table, and at another a storyteller excitedly told the story of the battle between the Moonstone pack and the Geart tribe. Of course the feathered audience enjoyed this as well; they had a hand in the victory.

Eventually the food spread out, course after course. Xynon's stomach complained loudly. He contemplated sauntering up and grabbing something from the head feather duster himself, but he remembered that while he was guarding this dragon, there were dozens of others all around... and with much better weapons. It would be better for his well-being if he sat still and just concentrated on the signal.

At last he saw it--a black fox in motley was leading a white wolf to one of the center tables. Xynon gripped the pommel of his sword, ears alert, stance wide for sword fighting.

Something about that white wolf tugged at Xynon's memory--and his loins, once the couple really got started. He watched, no longer really interested in protecting the dragon behind him.

The sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath distracted him. He had a change to whirl around before he began to wonder how long he'd been watching the two; the battle had begun, just as the show was coming to its peak, and standing there behind him was a bipedal gryphoness. She held his sword in her talon and was looking down at him--damn it, why did gryphons have to be so tall?--with a grin.

"Give me that back, you overgrown chicken!" he growled, unable to come up with much better, having been caught by surprise. He reached for the sword, but she spun away, agile as water. He leapt after her.

Xynon felt his hackles rise as the female gryphon dodged him, yet again. He growled loudly, oblivious to the chaos around them.

She held out a gray talon, palm out, as if to tell him to wait a moment. Xynon had never caught a gryphon before--wings gave them an unfair advantage--but he was already contemplating the feeling of a beak forced down his length. Too sharp, he decided, but the other end of this feather duster was more familiar. Just then, the phoenix gryphon turned and gestured for him to follow. Xynon kept his eye on the sword as he stalked after her.

No dragons guarded the doors now, and they left the dining hall without event. The gryphoness looked around before darting down the hall. Ears laid flat, Xynon followed, wondering if this was going to be worth it in the end.

The corridor was empty, eerily silent. Xynon heard only the tap-tapping of the firegryph's dull talons on the floor and the soft pulling of his leather armor as they ran. Before it dawned on him that it appeared as if she knew where she was going, the gryphoness stopped at a door and pushed it open.

Xynon stood back--if there was an enemy in that room, they were going to kill that dumb bird, not him. But she stepped into the room, tinkling bells echoing against the stone walls. Xynon peeked in and saw the jester cat perched on the bed, wearing nothing but her hat. The head feather duster was flat on the ground, passed out or dead. Licking his chops, Xynon let his gaze linger on the lithe form of the calico jester, the firegryph's presence momentarily forgotten.

He stepped forward, kicking the door shut behind him. A mismatched pair of blue and yellow eyes stared boldly up to him. The jester's lack of fear fueled his fire. As he was unlacing his breeches, she raised two paws and placed them on his face. Sudden searing, white pleasure erupted inside him--pleasure so intense that it was laced with pain. His breath caught, vision darkened, and soon he was on the floor with Silverhunt.

When Xynon opened his eyes again, his vision was so blurry at first that he thought he was still dreaming. As he sat up, the realization that he was awake came with the pain. He felt as if every muscle in his body had cramped while he slept. His head was pounding and it felt like it weighed at least twice as much as normal. "Th'ell happened?" he muttered, rubbing his temples.

As if on cue, the door to the room opened and in stepped Trick, the jester calico, followed by a ruby dragon. Xynon pushed back against the wall, steadying his vision on them through slit eyes while his paws felt around. He was on a featherbed, but that was the only furniture in the room. No tapestries or sculptures decorated the walls. Daylight from a single window and a bright fire in a fireplace lit the room.

The dragon cleared his throat. This one was dressed differently than the others; pure white loincloth that almost dusted the floor as he walked, with white feathers and beads around his neck, ankles and wrists. Xynon's vision was still unclear, but it looked as if he even had his wings and horns pierced by pieces of bleached bone.

"Awake, are you? Good timing." As the dragon spoke, his voice booming through Xynon's head, Trick pranced around to the bedside and sat down. Xynon edged away from her, flattening his ears.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked, trying not to speak too loudly. It felt as if his ears would explode.

"I'm Fenix," the dragon rumbled, leaning forward. He held out a thin black skin, heavy with liquid. "Drink this, you'll feel better."

Xynon wasted no time. He downed the drink in moments, hardly tasting it at all. When he lowered the skin, he felt better already. His eyes hurt less, and he felt the ache in his muscles ebbing.

"Good, good," Fenix smiled. "You're to be Trick's payment for her involvement aiding the Geart Tribe."

Xynon laid an ear back, blinking up at the dragon. "Payment?" His gaze flickered over to Trick, who was watching him and flicking her tail back and forth over the coverlet, occasionally coming dangerously close to touching him. He pulled his paws back and sat them on his lap.

"It seems our fool has taken quite the liking to you," Fenix commented. "She's no ordinary kitten, no. Of course you know about her little... talent. You already know of the... raptures her touch can bring."

Raptures? Hardly. "What the fuck do you want me to do? Get on with it, already." Ah, yes, he was starting to feel like his old self again.

Fenix straightened, glaring down at him. "I could have you placed in the closet for what you did with that female gryphon. You're only lucky that Trick showed an interest in you."

Xynon opened his mouth, about to debate the events with the firegryph, but Fenix spoke over him.

"As high shaman for the Geart Tribe, it is my task to discover cures and aids, using stones and herbs and the like. I have devised a potion for Trick that will temporarily mask the effects of her touch, so that she may experience the pleasures of sex."

"I'm to do this now?" Xynon growled, his muscles tense.

The dragon didn't need to answer. "The effects of the potion will last about one day," he continued, "and when Trick is finished with you, you'll be sent back to your mistress." Fenix reached around and untied a small white pouch from his belt, placed it on the bed near Xynon. "There is the potion. Drink it--all of it--directly before you lay a paw on her or before she touches you. Otherwise... well, you know the consequences." He moved back to the door, then turned and held a finger up. "Ah, and one more thing. Custom decrees that you should never finish inside a female unless you've claimed her as yours, but with Trick it's a different matter. She can't breed--her gift is also a curse--and it's unlikely she'll ever mate. She has given you her permission to do as you will."

With a curt bow to Trick, the dragon turned and left the room, locking them in with a 'click'.

Xynon turned to look at her, his fingers toying with the soft leather laces on the pouch Fenix gave him. Sex bartered and traded here like coin--it wasn't such a bad life. A wolf could get used to this.

Trick had slid down off the bed, turning slowly, suddenly shy. She pulled her hat off and rubbed her headfur, dropping the hat to the floor. She lifted the loose motley shirt over her head, small furred breasts bouncing slightly as she dropped it to the floor. Every bell on her body was tinkling softly. Xynon's paws closed reflexively, imagining what her mottled fur and flesh would feel like against his palms, what noise she'd make when he pinched or bit those nipples.

She steadied those mismatched eyes on him as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her trousers, sliding them down slowly. The scent of her arousal greeted Xynon's nose. As Trick slipped one paw between her legs, he reached below the sheets to rub at his sheath, the sleeping organ inside stirring. The calico lifted her fingers and showed them to him, slick with her own juice. Xynon couldn't help but grin.

She stepped towards the foot of the bed, and Xynon grabbed the potion. By the time the thick, pasty fluid snaked down his throat, Trick was hovering over his legs. The thin satin sheet irritated Xynon now, and he shoved it down to his knees. His cock bobbed in the cool air, drawing Trick's attention. She looked shyly up to him.

"I took the potion," Xynon said lazily. "Now if you don't get your furry little ass over here, I'm likely to find it myself."

Slowly, almost excruciatingly slowly, she lowered herself, her breasts pressing against Xynon's thigh, her hot breath dashing over his throbbing cock. Her touch prickled desire deep within him, and the wolf knew that if he didn't get started now, he might not make his mark. Xynon angled it himself, the sticky tip nudging her nose at first. An electric wash of pleasure flew through his body, and he worried that the potion wasn't working. It was too late, however; Trick took the offering, jaws opening wide, rough feline tongue welcoming his organ into the warm wetness of her mouth. The pleasure came in waves, as if with every gentle, shy suck the calico made, Xynon was climaxing. His paws dug into the cloth-covered featherbed, eyes closed tightly as he breathed short, measured breaths. She pulled away, but his cock throbbed wantonly. His tongue lolled from the side of his cracked muzzle, eyes opening to sleepily watch the feline's movements.

She was crawling over him, and her breasts hugged his organ a moment, sending more waves through his body. Trick locked her muzzle with his and Xynon kissed back hungrily, his paws grabbing her rear and pulling her closer to him. Her sex was slick and hot against his own, and though he wasn't inside her yet, it all felt just as good as fucking.

Her paw slipped between them, her touch driving him wild. He almost threw her over to take control, but he felt the slit pressed against the head of his cock as she rubbed it up and down, soaking it, before slipping just the head inside. Xynon couldn't take how slowly Trick was proceeding, and he held her hips tightly, plunging himself within her. He felt every ridge inside of the feline sliding, parting for his shaft. No, this felt better than fucking. Trick regained control now, holding herself up on her elbows as she rode him slowly, feeling his length, enjoying herself. Xynon simply lied back, the sensation so amazing that he was afraid that if he did something wrong, it would stop.

It happened anyway. Trick had leaned up, taking him inside her completely now, a very quiet purr rumbling in her throat as she moved up and down, eyes closed. One paw rested on Xynon's chest, the other was rubbing one of her breasts gently with her motions. The wolf felt his climax rising with amazing power, his cock tightening within her, when all the feeling started to ebb away. He opened his eyes to make sure Trick was still there after a while. It began to feel like she wasn't riding him at all--in fact, he couldn't feel any part of his body. There was only pressure where Trick was leaning on him, and all around his organ, and at his legs and hips where Trick was still working. Xynon growled, feeling his orgasm slip from his grasp, and he rolled over, forcing the calico onto her back. He thrust roughly into her, paws holding the top of the mattress to steady himself. The feline didn't seem to mind. Her eyes were closed and her hips were rising to meet his. Shortly, the constant jingling of her bells and the wet sounds of their copulation only angered Xynon further, and he pulled out of her, pushing away to sit on the edge of the bed.

Trick leaned up, nuzzling his side and slipping a paw around to toy idly with his organ. He snarled loudly, snapping his head around to glare at the feline. She shrugged and withdrew her paw. Xynon tried his own. Still, no feeling.

He rose, walking angrily towards the door. Trick watched him curiously, leaning up on her elbows. Xynon banged on the door heavily, yelling. "Fenix! Get back here!" After a long while, he stopped banging, turning and leaning on the wall next to the door. Trick was looking at him with a smile, her tail twitching slightly from beneath her. The wolf crossed his arms, glaring. He wondered why his cock hadn't calmed down yet.

Then the door opened. The red dragon stepped through, nodding in greeting to the waving calico, then looking to Xynon. He grabbed the fist flying towards him, squeezing the wolf's wrist painfully. Xynon only growled at him.

"You can't leave until Trick's finished with you," snapped Fenix, propelling the wolf back towards the bed. "And I'll be able to tell when you've finished. The potion won't let you come until you've gotten Trick off." So that was it. The dragon left the room, locking the door again.

Xynon looked back towards the mute feline, who smiled and waved shyly. "Fuck you," Xynon sneered, crawling over her. His organ slid between her legs, and the sensation was back; somehow, the feeling returned. He wasn't so close to coming, though. He put a paw between them, rudely shoving her legs apart, then thrusting inside of her roughly. She was still deliciously warm and wet, and since the feeling had returned to him, he had to concentrate. Xynon shuddered. He began to take her, his motions jerky and slow at first as he got used to the amplified pleasure. Her purring vibrated against his muzzle, pressing closely against her neck as he repeatedly plunged himself completely inside of her. Trick worked against his motions, lifting her hips and pushing herself down on the bed to take him. He felt his climax rising, and with it, the feeling fading.

"Damn it," he cursed, slipping a paw between their bodies. He leaned up on his knees, bringing her hips with him. With one paw he held her in place as he continued to thrust violently, the other paw working rhythmically at her clitoris. When all his feeling faded again, he growled loudly and flicked his finger over the sensitive kernel rapidly, leaning forward a bit and continuing to thrust into her. "Come, damn it," Xynon panted. Trick's jaw was clamped, her ears flattened and eyes shut tight. He knew it would happen soon. He slowed his thrusts, making sure to go deep within her. His legs were getting tired. Xynon kept his finger on the kernel, now pressing lightly as well as moving it far quicker than he was thrusting. The feeling came back slowly at first; there was only more pressure. Trick's back arched and her claws dug into the cloth sheets, muzzle open in a silent cry or gasp. And Xynon felt, with amazing lucidity, her muscles milking him hungrily. His climax had almost slipped away. He fell to his paws, thrusting vigorously into her while she came. Trick's hands were at his back, clawing. He didn't care. All that mattered was that he was going to come, and it was going to feel better than anything he'd ever done before.

A howl ripped loose moments before it happened. He held her hips tightly against his, his cock exploding within her as wave after wave of pleasure crashed down. Xynon was drowning in the sensation. He rocked their hips forward a few times, his seed shooting inside of her powerfully. When it was finally over, the wolf collapsed on top of Trick, panting heavily.

He came to in another room, again, chained to a familiar wall. He blinked, looking around for his mistress. She was sitting on the bed, watching him. Xynon grinned at her, more comfortable in this familiar environment. It felt like ages since he hadn't been tortured or used in one way or another, and he already felt his sheath filling out with anticipation.

His dragoness rose, brushing dust from her loose silk pants. As she walked closer to him, Xynon allowed his mind to wander enough to bring the tip of his cock to the party. His mistress looked down at it and sneered in disgust. "My father has finally seen that I am not at all interested in you," she said without preamble, taking her eyes from his groin and meeting his. "I'm sending you away."

Xynon's ears angled forward. "Away? You'll miss me."

She ignored him, walking towards the crackling fireplace. She had a pot of something boiling over the flame, and from the smell of it, it wasn't food. The scent was light, but chemical. She picked up an iron rod that had been sitting in the fire; the tip was red with heat.

"They're taking the firegryph north in a fortnight, trading her with the elves. I'm sending you with them. Your new master will have work for you when you arrive at Icefire." She came close again, so close that Xynon could feel the heat of the iron rod. "But first, I thought I would give you a little something to remember me by."

She angled the red iron forward. The smell of his own burning fur hit him before the pain, but the pain was bright and fresh. He arched his back, gritting his teeth so he wouldn't cry out. All and all, it wasn't so bad--the mark on his back was worse, and took months to heal completely. But still, branding was painful, and he was alive, after all. She pulled the rod back and he exhaled, "Fuck!"

"Poor baby," she commented dryly. Xynon strained to look at the spot she'd burnt, an area the size of his hand on his right side. It stung, but the pain now was a comfortable thrum through his body. He glanced up to see her dipping a ladle into the pot over the fire. When she brought it closer, Xynon recognized it as the burning water that his tribe used to turn their fur white. He struggled against his bonds, against his will, growling low in his throat.

Without further warning, she poured the clear chemical over his freshly burnt flesh. It sizzled and bubbled, a heady steam rising as it worked into his skin, changing the fur that would grow there into a stark white. He shouted wordlessly and then, out of breath, panted and growled at his mistress in short bursts. She was smirking and waving her hand in front of her face, as if to keep the smoke out of her face.

"Fuck you," he spat out.

"You already have," she said simply, "and that's what got you into this." She turned and dropped her tools on the floor by the fire. At that opportune moment, there was a knock at the door. Glyph stepped through the opening, smiling at Xynon. He suddenly felt queasy.

"You and I seem to keep meeting," Glyph hissed, slicing through Xynon's bonds with his claws. He drew the wolf's paws behind his back and propelled him forward, leaning over his shoulder. "We're going to be great friends, you and I."

Xynon doubted that.