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Winter always came early in the mountains, and with it came the heat. It was a gradual advent, a build-up that started with the shortening of the days and the cooling of the winds and ended with neverending snowfall and the sun disappearing from the sky for days on end, replaced by gray clouds and icy rains and the terrible acknowledgement that another year har passed and she had spent it alone just as all the others that had preceded it. That year she knew it had come when she went to sleep one rainy evening only to wake up and look outside her lair and realize she could not tell wether it was night or day anymore. The sky was but one single impenetrable layer of thick gray clouds and snow fell from it as if it were to never stop. It was not a blizzard, not yet, but it was just a matter of time. Vierel did not fear the cold but the feeling of water running down her scales had always irked her, and though she liked to sleep near the entrance of her lair it was time to return to her sleeping chambers. She stood up and stretched her long slender body to shake it out of the torpor of sleep and it was then that she felt the familiar spark of need in her crotch, a feeling no dragoness could ever misinterpret. A mixture of warmth and emptiness, an itch that no claw could scratch, the sudden desire to have a male buried deep inside her.

She growled. “Fucking Gods,” she said. “Lam! Where are you, you pathetic excuse of a wisp? Get your ass over here. I need to speak with you right now.”

Out of nowhere a ball of white light exploded next to her, crackling and popping like a burning fire. “Here I am, mistress” Said the light. It had a meek female voice, like the singing of a little bird, and every world echoed as if said in a catedral. “How can I be of help?”

“You can give me an explanation, just to start. Why am I in heat? I thought the season was weeks away.”

“I’m afraid it is not, mistress. Today is the third day of Corrùn, as established by the Golden Calendar. The sun rose a few hours ago. Your heat is perfectly on time, just as it has always been.”

Vierel scowled. “How is that possible? I was sure we were still in Vulte. How could I lose my sense of time so badly?”

“I truly don’t know, Mistress. Though if I had to presume I’d say it may be due to the frequent and unscheduled naps you have abandoned yourself to in the last few weeks.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, you stunted half-wit. Why don’t you - “

Before she could say anything else another fit hit her lower body and ripped a groan out of her. Now fully irked she crouched with her haunches down, her ass hovering slightly above the ground, her posterior legs parted. She leaned her head down between them to inspect her slit and immediately the smell of her own cunt hit her nose with the strength of a charging direwolf, so intense it made her mouth salivate and her eyes water. A dense layer of opaque fluid clung to her crotch and thighs and lower belly: it fell in long, thick ropes on the stone below her and pooled between her feet. The syrupy liquid was so rich and bountiful she had to scoop the strands away with one hand to see her cunt with any clarity. Her slit was red and engorged, her labia pulsing with need. Her fat clitoris sat atop of it, swollen and twitching. It was an obscene spectacle, an embarassment to a dragoness usually as composed and controlled as her, but at the same time she also felt proud of it. What better proof of her great fertility, in spite of time and old age, than a libido that was impossible to control?

She had barely finished the thought that her body reacted to it and her cunt clenched instinctively as another wave of fluid spurted out of her and onto her snout and chin. Vierel pulled her head back and hissed in annoyance, the drops of fluid running down her white scales and dripping on her neck and chest. “Gods be damned, this is worse than last year,” she said. She snuck her tongue out and ran it over her muzzle to clean it from the juices and then looked at Frisk. “Do we still have some suppressor left?”

“The Furliana? I’m afraid not, mistress. You used the last stash a few months ago, after that incident with the Skalee artifact.”

“Well why the hell did you not remind me to get more?”

“I did, mistress. You told me you were not a hatchling and did not need me to play the role of the ‘mother hen’ for you, and then threatened to throw me in a brazier if I did it again.”

Vierel groaned again. The juices of a dragon’s sex organs were well known to be some of the best aphrodisiacs around, and as she swallowed those few first drops she was reminded why: they were so thick and warm drinking them was a pleasure, and they went down her throat better than water. She felt them through her stomach like burning coals and the moment they reached her belly her body was shook by shivers of pleasure. Her cunt clenched again and more juices spurted out of her with vehemence, this time not leaking in the pool below as much as splattering, and she felt the sudden need to bury her muzzle in it and then drink and lick until the stone was clean.

An idea came to mind.

“Lam,” she said, “how long has it been since the last Rite of Attraction?”

“Five years, mistress. Five years, four moons and six days to be more precise. Why do you wish to enact it once again? I’m afraid I have not felt the presence of an adult male dragon on these mountains for a long while. Well, there is the son of the Dragoness of Birigene, but I’m not sure he’s old enough to - “

“Silence,” Vierel said. Frisk’s voice died out. “I don’t care what you do or do not feel. At this point, it is the only thing I can do short of leaving the lair and searching for one personally, and that is not going to happen.” She cupped her crotch with a scaly hand and pressed her palm against her labia and clitoris. Another surge of fluid gushed out of her and through her fingers, and with it came another set of shivers. She felt the first hints of an orgasm take form in her loins and she stuck two fingers inside her to chase it as her palm kept teasing her clitoris. “Prepare the largest tub in the bathroom and the amphorae while I get ready. They are to be the only things in the room, everything else goes out. Once you are done, come back and report to me. Am I clear?”

“Crystal clear, my mistress,” Frisk said, and then disappeared in a flash of light.

Vierel spent the next few minutes alone, working on herself in complete silence save for the sound of Frisk moving her hoard away to make space for the Rite. Altough she had lived centuries and had developed an admirable resistance to pain and pleasure alike she knew her body very well, which meant she also knew how to give herself the most pleasure in the shortest amount of time possible. With three fingers spreading and massaging her pussy’s rosey internal walls and her palm still pressed against her throbbing clit it took her but a few minutes to drive herself to the cusp of an orgasm, and for an interminable amount of time she had to tip-toe on its edges like a trapezist on a tightrope. Surges were more and more frequent, her arm, crotch, chest and legs drenched in fluids. She could not move a limb without having a synphony of wet noises playing in her ears. Often she had to pause her teasing to lick her hands, arms and thighs clean so she could keep working on herself without hindrance. And yet her juices tasted and smelled so good every drop she swallowed made her more and more aroused, which in turn made her produce more and more. Below her the pool of come grew larger and larger until it covered an area big enough for her to lay in, its scent spreading around her and making her push on for more.

She kept at it, teetering on the edges of her climax all the while, pushing herself closer and closer to the edge. She was about to fail the ritual before it even began when Frisk finally came back. The little ball of fire reappeared so suddenly she made Vierel lose her balance. Her wet feet slipped on the floor and she barely had the time to pull her handbout of her folds before she fell with her ass and lower back in the pool of fluid. “Damn you, Frisk!” She yelled. What in all the hells are you doing?”

“Forgive me, Mistress. It was not my intention to scare you. I just wanted to tell you that the tub is ready for you, and so are the amphorae. The ritual is ready to begin whenever you want.”

Vierel cussed. “Whatever. Not as if this was going to end in a different way.” She rolled on her belly, drenching what dry spots her body had left, and then stood up. “Let’s get this over with,” she said, and then walked toward her Lair’s entrance, her posterior legs trembling with unsatisfied need, her pussy leaving a generous trail of nectar behind as she walked.

/

The baths were the part of her Lair Vivene loved the most, even more so than her chambers and the hoarding room. While she had dug and built every the rest of it with her own muscles and claws, she knew enough about baths and the way they worked to know she would not have been able to make one suitable to her taste. Instead she had hired some dwarf architects to make them one for her, back when dwarven arts and their words were still worth something, and they had built her a place worthy of a queen, the entire room clad in lucid black marble and equipped with a plumbing and heating system. The room itself was quite small, with only one tub, but who cared? Most of the time she had nobody to share it with anyway.

No matter. If things were to go her way for once, that soon wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

“You’ve done a good job cleaning this place, Frisk,” she said as she glanced around the room. The floors and the pool itself had been dusted to perfection and were so clean she could have eaten in it and the amphorae were in their righful places on the side of the pool. “I remember in what a terrible state I left it last time I used it. Almost makes me sad I’m about to soil it all over again.”

“Nothing your lovely folds produce could ever be considered soiling, Mistress,” she said. “I’m more worried about your well-being. Last time you engaged in the Rite of Attraction you ended up passing out in a rather violent manner, and - “

“And you can expect me to do it again. You know what the rite entails. If it is to work, it must be done until I’m either too weak to continue or until loss of consciousness.” She scoffed. “We’ve done this many times, Frisk. We know the procedure and it is nothing truly dangerous, just strenuous. I’ll be fine.”

“So be it. But I must insist on remaining around, so I can be sure everything goes well.”

“Granted,” she said. “Now be silent, and let me do my work.”

She sat at the edge of the tub. On her sides were the two amphorae, both almost a third of her size. One of them contained the stimulant necessary for the Ritual, the other the palliative necessary to make it enjoyable without being painful. She opened the one on the left first and saw it was the one full of stimulant. The thick blue liquid was made with blueberry juice and infusion of Aritoba, and it was supposed to stimulate arousal and the production of vaginal juices. As far as sex stimulants went, it was the best thing you could get short of using actual magic and alchemic formulae.

“Frisk,” she said, “do you remember which one should I drink first?”

“I do believe the stimulant should go first, ma’am,” Frisk said. “Then the palliative, but I would suggest to drink bot of them in small doses instead of downing them all in one go. It might make the mental effects a bit less…destabilizing, as you can surely remember from last time.”

“Then you did not listen to what I said before,” she said.

She took the amphora and raised it to her snout. She spread her maws open and then poured the liquid in almost all at once, downing the thick fluid in big gulps. The liquid was cold and sticky, a far cry from the wonderful warmth and syrupy consistency of her cunt’s secretions, but she still made sure to drink all of it, even licking the bottom to make sure she downed all of it, and when she had swallowed everything down to the last drop there was but a moment of nothing before a terrible warmth took ahold of her.

Gods be damned.

Immediately her slit started burning as if some other dragon had breathed fire on it: her legs spreas open almost by themselves and a terrible clenching in her crotch preannounced a copious spurt of come, followed by another and another. Each one of them was more bountiful than the others and each one splattered in the tub with a loud ‘thud’, but she knew they were nothing compared to the surge that would come with her first orgasm. The little bastard had been hiding until now, almost lost after the scare Frisk had given her just a few minutes before, but now the stimulant had started doing its job and it had come back with a vengeance, threatening to be bigger and stronger than what it was already going to be. An almost overwhelming need to touch herself took ahold of her right then and there and her hands shoot toward her crotch to fulfill it…

“Mistress, please!” Frisk said. “The palliative!”

Vivene managed to stop herself just in time, with her hands less than a scale’s length away from her cunt. Frisk was right: a single stroke of her clitoris in such a state would have given her an orgasm so strong it might have broken her mind forever. She would have been turned into a simpering slut whose only reason for living was taking cocks in every hole of her body… for the rest of her life.

That might not be so bad…if I found the right male, maybe I could…

No. If there had ever been a bad situation to have such thoughts it was the one she was in right now. She pushed them in the back of her brain with all her strength and grabbed the other amphora. She threw away the lid and all but stuffed her snout into it before throwing her head back. She did not remember what the palliative was made out of, but it was warm and sweet and she drank it with the same desperate gulp with which dhe had drank the stimulant, excelt this time she did so out of sheer need rather than raw determination. Once again she licked the amphora clean, and once it was as dry as the desert she let it fall at her side and took a breath of fresh air - or at least as fresh as air sature with the smell of pussy juice could ever hope to be.

“Done,” Vierel said. All around her the world swum and shook, its color more vibrant than she remembered them to be. Damn palliative had taken effect already. It had not taken the warmth away from her body, nor had it made her slit any less sensitive, or cut the surge of fluid still leaking out of her. Instead it had taken away the rough part of them - the terrible feeling of overstimulation and the pain that it brought with it. Now all she could feel was the pleasure, a pleasure pure to the point of being addicting. “By the gods, I don’t remember feeling like this last time…”

“That’s because you drank with even more fervor than you did before,” Frisk said. “It does not matter now. What is done is done. Are you ready to start?”

Vierel’s hands ran to her crotch, but instead of going to her cunt they stopped on her thighs. Her wrists shook violently against her legs, her fingers twitched in frenesy. “I don’t think I can masturbate as I should in my current state.”

“Then you should use your tongue, Mistress. The tongue of a dragon is always a great tool for pleasure.”

She was right once again. If her fingers could not do the job, her tongue certainly could. Slow and steady she lay down on her back, her body twisting to find a comfortable position, her wings spread on the floor below her and her legs up in the air. Once she had settled in she looked down, saw her own hips buck and twitch on the ground. Her fluids ran down her belly and stomach as much as they gushed out in the tub, and that wouldn’t do.

The dragoness hauled her knees up and anchored her feet on the ground, her claws digging in the stone, then pulled herself up with one hand while the other ran to her crotch. She was crouched down now, her knees spread as far apart as she could and her slender hips pushed outward. It was a position she would have never been able to assume normally, but the palliative had given her back some of the flexibility she had lost since her youth. Her other hand went to her cunt and this time she managed to touch it despite the shaking and the twitching - not to tease herself, but to spread her already open folds even further. The simple contact was enough to send her body into a fit, and her clitoris pulsed wildly as another jet of come erupted from her. She was so close to climax she could almost taste, the need to release only made bearable by the palliative. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she panted, saliva dripping from her open jaws.

“The first orgasm is the most important of the ritual,” Frisk said. “Dig in, Mistress, and do enjoy yourself. I will take care that everything goes well.”

“S-silence,” she said. “Just let me…just let me…”

With a loud groan of impatience she buried her wide-open muzzle in her own fluid-coated crotch and thrust her long, thick, dexterous tongue as deep in her drenched cunt as she possibly could.

The effect was instantaneous. The orgasm that had been building up for so long inside her finally manifested in all its power and the tension in her loins released all at once and shook her to her core. Vierel’s mind went blank and her eyes rolled in the back of her head as a veritable onslaught of cunt juice spurted from her slit with the force of a geyser and filled her mouth almost instantly. She started to swallow instinctively, mechanically, her throat almost acting by itself as it started to gulp down the delicious, rich fluid in big gulps that bulged her throat to the limit and threatened to choke her every moment. Despite all her effort though there was so much of it that she couldn’t swallow it all no matter how much she tried, not when her entire bood shook like a leaf in the wind and her hips and crotch twitched and shook with the force of an earthquake. Every second that passed her orgasm brought more and more secretions out of her, every successive wave and gush and squirt more earnest and thicker than the one before. Everything that didn’t end up in her belly was instead sprayed in her face and neck before splattering in the tub. Vierel was too far gone to notice the level of liquid steadily raising below her and too drunk on her own cunt’s fluids to care, but her body knew what it had to do, and it knew that it had to keep doing it until the tub was full to the brim.

She was still in the throes of the orgasm when she felt something pull her snout out of her cunt and forced her to breathe. Her eyes were still closed and her mind still blank and the juices kept spurting out of her with the strength of a river pushing through a dam as her body shook and writhed on the floor. It went on for a minute more, then three, then five. Only after six uninterrupted minutes of violent gushing and spurting did the unending stream start to wane and her body finally gave up and relaxed on the floor, her breath slowly returning to normal as the orgasm died out and her cunt’s wild twitching settled. The flux of juices never actually stopped but soon turned into a quiet, more manageable – yet constant – leak of sweet warm nectar. The dragoness finally opened her eyes, blinked away the ropes of juices sticking her eyelids together and looked at Frisk. The little light was hovering right above her head, her body shaking as if blown by a violent wind.

“Are you alright, Mistress?”

“I’m fine,” she managed to say. “What did you…”

“You were choking, Mistress. I fear the pleasure might have overwhelmed your mind for a moment. I had to pull you away, or I fear you might have drowned in your own fluids.”

“Is the pool full?”

“I’m afraid not, mistress,” Frisk said. “You appear to have drunk a good part of the secretions, and as a consequence the pool isn’t even half full. See for yourself.”

The dragoness looked down to her belly. Gone were her toned abs and flat abdomen, replaced by a noiceable pouch. An unusual sight, but not as unpleasant as she expected. She moved her eyes toward the pool and saw that a generous amount of liquid already sloshed in it in spite her mad thirst, thick and opaque, the results of a job well done. Strands of it clung to the walls and the edge of the pool. The scent raised from it like the smoke from a fire, and when it reached her nostrils the embers of pleasure that had almost died down to coals were revamped into a blazing inferno. A moan escaped her lips and her hand ran between her legs once again. She barely had the time to position her crotch before her cunt contracred and a new wave of fluid jetted out.

“Gods be damned!” She screamed as the orgasm rocked her body to the core. ‘Gods be damned, Wisp, I can’t…I can’t…”

“It’s alright, mistress. I do not think your body needs any more manual stimulation,” she said, and Vierel’s hips showed their agreement by violently spasming forward, squirts of juice splattering all around the room. “Just hold on thight, and I’ll make sure you’re being taken care of.”

“Lam you stupid whore,” she managed to stutter out between an orgasm and the other. “You knew this would happen, you knew -” she couldn’t end the sentence. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head once again, twin tears streaming down her face and tongue lolling out of her mouth. Lost in the pleasure; unable to control herself in any way anymore, the dragoness threw her head back and let out a screeching cry, strong and sharp like a gryphon’s claw, absolutely devoided of any semblance of control. Vierel’s body started shaking wildly, her torso and legs completely overwhelmed by violent spasms and shivers, and her clawed hands and feet ended up losing hold on the ground below her. The floor was too slippery for her to regain balance, and even if it hadn’t been like that, her consciousness was too far gone to let her do anything but come and come and come. She slipped, fell forward, and sunk head-first into the half-full pool. Her fluids welcomed her with a wet and warm embrace like no other, and though there was not enough of them to cover her completely there was enough to drench her from head to toe. They entered her eyes and mouth, filled her lungs. She coughed and coughed to try and get them out, and when she finally turned on her back and breathed the warm humid air of the cave once again she only had a couple of seconds to see through unfocused eyes her chest and torso and crotch buried into the viscuous liquid and her soaked wings pressed avainst the sides of the pool before the surprise waned and a new wave of pleasure broke her mind. Her hips and crotch were thrust upward, once, twice, thrice, and when they finally released their load the column of fluids that erupted from them could have extinguished the hells themselves. It fell on her snout like a blessing from the skies, and she spat and coughed until her throat started working again, and for the second time that morning she found herself gulping down thick mouthfuls of her own essence as if it were water from a spring.

Time passed. The pleasure did not. The orgasms overlapped into a single ridiculous, continuous climax, and not once did she stop squirting like a mare in heat. For hours she drunk herself into a stupor with her own nectar, and when her mind finally collapsed in the most total way her mouth closed and she stopped drinking, but did not stop squirting. Her senseless body kept quivering and spasming as her cunt expelled her bounties, clenching and contrapting with violent fervor. The level of liquid in the pool raised higher and higher, until finally it was filled to the brim, and still Vierel’s unconscious body kept expelling her secretions in violent jets that drenched the room and everything in it.

Lam stood there and watched, as still and silent as a statue. She had swore she would take care of her mistress and put an end to the whole thing if it got dangerous, but she saw no danger in what was happening or how it was happening, and so she allowed it to unfold unchanged. Besides, she thought, the longer her mistress kept at it, the more effective the ritual would be. After all, if something was worth doing, then it was worth doing well.