FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Orchestral music booms through the lofty ceiling of the grand hall, an exquisite room of handcrafted white marble – a rarity in our space faring society – and it is held up by no less than eight gigantic pillars polished until they reflect a near mirror like image. Banners fly above the heads of the partiers, a bombastic hue of red with the black crest of the Kelmon family who need not toot their own horn when they throw lavish balls every other week such that anyone and everyone is more than happy to do it for them. Long buffets set upon crimson tablecloths are set with hors d’oeuvres alongside full course meals to create a massive buffet, and more than plenty of wine, spirits, and even hard liquor is being served at the four open bars to ensure anyone can be socially lubricated.

It is by all means a perfect, tried and true social event for conversation and an open dance floor following into a lavish, lovingly cared for garden with a complete hedge maze and dozens of trimmed, statuesque bushes mixed in with all manner of hues and shapes of flowers in intricate patterns and meticulous arrays! It is simply a cherry on top of an already magnificent desert! It is a small wonder the botanical marvel is not even a dent in their vast fortune. The very property itself is all so fantastic that it would make one wish to live a day as a king, rather than a life as a beggar.

That is, unless you’re Desty. The pillars shine bright at the beginning of every party, as do the ballroom dance floors and the ammonites decorating them clear as day, but practically ten minutes in and drunk guests and their grubby hands and slippery fingers smear and dirty them with food and grease. Well, that’s why we have servants and the occasional robotic cleaner, right? Afterall, what’s wrong with socialites getting rambunctious after a week of hard work? Hard work their employees did, anyways…

But the conversations between such learned people, they’re of the finest philosophy and merrymaking one could ask for! Should you be out of touch with reality, that is, and have nothing better to do than brag about your expensive misadventures in the thrill of retail therapy. Despite the fancy clothes and manners, many of the rich folk here are just… folk. Dull as a door nail, often half as talented at keeping things together, and perfect to be used if you have the knowhow.

As a clerk in the Kelmon’s vast list of accountants, Desty is well familiar with what exactly they spend money on and what their true faces look like when high society is not watching. So well, in fact, she’s quietly written off dozens of fabricated expenses to afford the latest fashion and fits right into the party. Today she wears a revealing black silk dress, gold metal thread embellishing the sleeves and lingerie-esk fit across the back as she laughs and gossips and quietly filches loose objects from deep pockets from the especially unwary guest. Her fluffy, well groomed tail hides many bags and pockets beneath the thick fur, and what she has stashed under there is known to no one but her.

She appears as a dragon at first, with milk chocolate colored fur, a white underside, and extremities darkened to the point she appears to be wearing black gloves and boots, though she has neither on. Most curiously, matching feathers grow in a crest along the top of her head, and this feature attracts a man in the crowd in particular to approach her as she breaks off from one group to snatch from more prospective coffers.

Dressed smartly in a deep blue vest that matches his eyes, black trousers, and rich, chestnut colored leather straps tied around his calves and clawed feet, the raptor’s face, fur, and feathered crown are white as snow. He grins charmingly as he catches her attention by brushing a hand across her bare shoulder.

“You’re a new face around here,” She smiles back, looking him up and down.

His clothes are of good quality, but nothing terribly expensive, which is not unusual for this place but anyone not able to play high society’s game is usually heckled out unless they have exceptional charisma or decent connections. Given he holds himself with pride and a friendly demeanor, it’s safe to assume both.

“Oh, I thought I would come and see what all the fuss is about!” He chuckles, eyeing her with similar scrutiny and coming to his own conclusions as well. “I must agree, there is some glamor.”

“Some glamor?” She says with mock indignation.

“Indeed. The food is good and the sights to see are certainly worth it...”

“Flattery will get you everywhere here,” Desty purrs, moving closer to press her chest against his and look up into his eyes with a mischievous smirk.

In response, he puts his hands into the two pockets on his pants, subtly calling her out. This makes a small, genuine smile cross her face, feeling like perhaps she may have found a kindred spirit.

“Now what’d you do that for?” She snickers coyly.

“My hands are merely cold.”

“Oh! In that case, I will get you a glass of mulled wine. Give me just a moment!”

“Oh, no no no. That’s not necessary, really!”

“Oh, I insist.”

“Oh, I could not impose on you.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

“Oh, I’m quite certain,” He chuckles, enjoying the silly banter. “I promised a friend I would stay off the drink for tonight.”

“The same friend who put so much white ash into your makeup?” She twitters, rubbing her fingers together from where she stroked his chin and revealing a streak of yellow.

“Hey now! If our positions were reversed, it would be an outrage I’d have the audacity to smear yours.”

“Heh,” She huffs before leaning in close to quietly say, “What I wouldn’t give to be Captain Yskra of the Wicked Gold.”

He doesn’t change in appearance yet the air around him does, turning icy as he lifts her chin up to meet his eyes.

“It’s good you kept your voice down, my dear. Now choose your next words very carefully,” He breathes, feinting the touch and tone of a prospective lover to anyone watching from an outside perspective.

“I want in your crew.”

“A high society lady like you? Are you sure?” He chuckles, dropping the dire attitude as quickly as it formed. “I’m afraid we have very little wine of the standard you enjoy. And our chef, pah! He does his best with what he has but I fear you couldn’t stomach it.”

“Really now? I enjoy salmagundi on a weekly basis. From the port.”

“Truly? And what’s the tavern you go to for that?” Yskra snickers, not believing a word of it.

“The Grapeshotted Whale and I always order extra pepper and squid. The cook’s name is Henderson, and he is damn good with seafood.”

“Alright… so you have a few contacts on the docks.”

“No, no. I walk there. Not every day, admittedly, but every once in a while, I like to go crazy, travel a bit, and I daresay I’ve seen your ship once or twice at the Blackened Docks.”

“So, what, you’re playing secret agent for a pirate lord?” He chuckles.

“Not so much that as I’m an accountant that’s good at…” She thinks for a moment, raising his wallet in one hand he didn’t notice her pickpocket while the other was distracting by sliding down to his crotch. “Anything that the devil wills idle hands to do.”

“Anything the devil wills?” Yskra purrs as she hands back his property.

“Especially what you’re thinking, yes. Take a good look at all these fine men… and some of the women too. They’re very easy to overwhelm in bed and then it’s a matter of knowing what they will and won’t notice missing the next morning.”

“I see you don’t need to wait to be in bed for this?” He notes, examining a gold and silver pocket watch that is strikingly familiar to the one she ‘borrowed’ from an older gentleman within the last half hour.

“How did you–” She begins to say, reaching for her tail.

“I didn’t,” He laughs, “Not from you, anyways. Sunbeam Silver are very good at making a lot of the same watch and selling them at the price of unique pieces.”

“I see,” She sighs, disappointed in herself for being so easily tricked as she closes a tailpouch back up.

“And now I know where you keep your stash. You are inventive, I must say.”

“Inventive enough to… join your crew?”

“Hmmm. You’d need to prove yourself first but then there’s a distinct problem of trust. I’d have to keep you very near at all times until I and the crew adjust to you,” He grins salaciously.

“Don’t tempt a girl with a good time and not give it to her, captain.”

“I always reward a good hand. I need, in the next hour, this room in a riot. Can you do that?”

“And how do I find you after?”

“Quite simple really: I’m going to watch you do it. It was my job to make a distraction, but I think you have some insights into this crowd I do not. And if I’m impressed, I may just take you with me after.”

“Okay… and to be clear, when you say riot,” She asks, smiling a little at the thought, “You mean a full row?”

“Well. A bunch of noise and kerfuffle, really. But a full brawl would be ideal!”

“And you need this in the next hour?”

“Within an hour. It’s not possible to get socialites fightin- oh, and you’re off.”

Without another word, Desty strides away from him and finds old lovers, gossipers that live for drama, and the prideful, puffed up types. It takes calling in a few midnight favors, spinning some he-said-she-saids to spread rumors throughout the crowd, and exactly one targeted follow up comment by Desty.

“Lord Chanston, is it true the Lancanasters have more skilled tailors AND higher quality silks? I thought your house was the epitome of high-class dresses,” She laments to the two men. “This dress took me all week to procure, and I am devastated at the thought it might be subpar!”

“That is absolutely not true!” Lord Chanston, a greying, puffed-up lion and giant of a man declares as he takes her hands in his. “We provide unparallel service to the Lancanasters, I assure you thus! Who told you such tripe?”

“How dare you! Have you the audacity to say that directly to me?” Lord Lancanaster challenges, an equally broad shouldered and dignified moose.

“Certainly! Your materials are cheaper, and your workers stamp out every single piece that your house produces like a factory belt!” Lord Chanston asserts as he turns to him. “Lancanaster threads are fit only to be worn by the public, not by high society, and certainly not in these events. I’ve been polite up until now ignoring all the mistakes made on the fitting of your suit!”

Lord Lancanaster gasps and raises his fist. “You take that back! I once bloodied my butler for spilling port on my leather shoes! Imagine what I will do to you for insulting the craft of my house!”

“Try it you horned upstart! I’ll show you how we did it back in my day!”

Desty quietly extracts herself and stands once again next to Yskra as cliques and their allegiances begin to rally against another, the dragon’s well-placed murmurs creating a deafening uproar of shouts and threats until wine being splashed in the face of another party goer is the spark on the fuse of the proverbial powder keg. A bare knuckled, fanged brawl breaks out as trophy wives tear out each other’s hair and cousins take turns exchanging blows. One old man even takes out a large stick of bullion and uses it as a blunt force weapon.

The chaos took less than ten minutes to craft, and Yskra stands there, a little stunned, feeling ridiculous as he was, just a moment ago, mildly daunted by the task of merely creating a scene.

“Soooo…” Desty trails off, barely able to be heard over the din.

“I’d be a raging idiot to not say yes,” Yskra answers with a chuckle, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes as he pulls a loose feather from his crest, wipes away the white, and tucks it behind her ear.

“Indeed, you would!” She agrees smugly, cupping his hand in her own. “What did you need this distraction for anyways?”

“To keep the Kelmons away from their rooms, but it would seem their guards are indisposed as well now,” Yskra notes with no small amount of delight as finely clad security enters the foray.

Armed with both ceremonial melee weapons and high powered firearms, they are poorly equipped to calm the crowd down. In fact, their presence causes the gathering to grow even more agitated. Those who stand off to the side are more or less left alone and can watch the brawl freely, as many do and one cameraman even records it, though one drunkard takes his chances on Yskra and Desty.

A swift kick to the back of his knee from the dragon causes him to fall, followed by Yskra casually picking him up like a sack of potatoes by the shirt and heaving him back into the crowd.

“I’ll be honest: I kind of hated it here to begin with. Can we go now? There’s a few things I’d like to pack,” Desty rubs her hands together excitedly.

“Why, absolutely! You certainly have saved me the time.”

Given her vocation, it’s no surprise she lives no more than a fifteen-minute walk away in an upper class apartment, filled with pieces of art, jewelry, and other valuables she’s pocketed over the years. It would be egregiously incriminating if her crimes were ever reported, but no one with high standing wants to admit some low-born shmuck tricked and robbed them, sometimes multiple time, if they noticed at all.

“Impressive collection, for… you were an accountant, you said?” Yskra notes as he walks around her apartment while she shoves clothes, bags, a few small weapons, and other things in a haphazard yet somehow compact fashion into a steamer trunk.

“One of the clerks that processes purchases made on credit, specifically. All that is the stuff I couldn’t sell; ‘too high profile’ or something, fences would say,” She replies from the other room.

“And you’re going to leave it here?”

“Feel free to grab a bag and start packing.”

“I have no idea how I would sell a cast iron statue of a kobold’s lower half with… some lovingly sculpted cloacal features. Where did you even get this?”

“I asked myself that once every week or so for the last three years and never could dredge up the answer. I’ve nicked and sold off a great deal of weird things!”

“Is this a painting of you?”

“The one spread eagle?” She calls from the other room. “I had a fling with a risqué artist some time back.”

“Yes! It’s very lovely. And leaves nothing to the imagination.”

“It’s quite accurate too.”

“I’ll have to check the authenticity myself.”

“Check away,” Desty says as she walks out of the other room fully naked and saddles up against him. “Show me that something you wanted, devil o’ mine.”

Surprised but very far from unpleasantly, her hands guide his own to her breast and then the entrance to her vent further down, giving him fully lay of the land where he might bury his treasure. With a yelp of surprise, Desty finds herself being both lifted and falling as Yskra buries his snout into her snatch before her back can even grace the sofa, leaving her shuddering around his long tongue as he aggressively samples her inner walls.

“A-ah! You’re a hungry one!” She gasps, the raptor rolling on top of her before pulling out a throbbing hard on from his pants.

“I was worried I’d have to deal with this all day, but it would appear you’ve appeared to handle all my problems!” He huffs, burying himself in her depths down to the hilt.

Years of sleeping with men of many shapes and sizes has left Desty ready for almost anything, even the large length of the raptor as his balls softly plap against her ass with each hard thrust. He evidently wants to make this a quickie, but it would seem he never does anything he loves the easy way. Yskra can also feel how she handles him; not easily, to be sure, but she can take it, and so take it she shall. It doesn’t bother him at all how many partners she’s doubtlessly been with to be able to do so. Rather, it’s a delightful challenge in outdoing the rest of them; to see if he can keep what they could never catch.

“S-slow down a little! I didn’t realize I had you acting up this bad!” She pants as he plants two hands on either side of her head while he lays down on top of her.

With nowhere to go, she’s spread wide around his member as his full weight pushes it deeper than before and grinds against her most sensitive places in short, hammering thrusts that leave a mixture of pre and juices streaming from Desty’s sex. Gripping the sofa, she moans and shudders in the face of this new assault and locks her legs around his waist, gripping down on his shaft hard as she cries out in ecstasy. The feeling of a sun between her legs is amplified by the sudden injection of warmth into her womb, hot raptor cum painting it thickly until it begins to pool and fill the confined space to the point is spills out of her vaginal opening in hot gushes, painting their joined sexes and the furniture in sticky white.

The mess is only amplified by Yskra’s disguise makeup, and a shared bath is all but required, giving Desty a full view of his muscular body past the fancy clothes. He’s not as muscular as she thought, but what’s beneath the soft fur and feathers is hard like iron. In contrast, she’s tender all the way through, and the raptor fully enjoys the feel of both her breasts and butt with exploratory caresses and the occasional grope. But of course, they have a ship to catch.

Out of the collection of odd ornaments, crystal knickknacks, distinctive rings, and various custom made items, a slim tricorn sticks out with a golden trim and a gigantic, bushy red feather pinned on the top. This was taken off the head of a captain a long time back as a child scuddling over the roofs of building with a cheap fishing line, according to Desty.

“This. This I think I’d like,” He says as he picks it off the hat rack and dusts it off.

“It’s all yours. But you’d look like a dork in it,” She snickers, quickly revising her opinion as he dons it and gives her a knowing smile from beneath the shadow of the brim. “Okay. You’re the first person to not look like a dork in it. Including the man I fished it off of.”

“Hah, excellent! Distinctive without being a prude is my style choice anyhow!”

“I would say the feather will raise eyebrows… but the ones there already do.”

With an amused snort, Yskra takes her luggage to carry in one arm and her in the other, making her laugh as she’s whisked out the door away from her boring life and into a new one. It’s more interesting to be sure, but they’re going to find they got much more than bargained for.

On the deck of the ship, Desty leans over the railing and watches the stars go by, winking suns in the distance and closer ones coming and going with flashes of heat and light as the solar winds carry the Archie through both clear space and dust and rock alike. It’s hard not to stare when a planet passes by or the occasional comet whirls past.

“Three days and you’re still not bored of the view?” Valkyrie says from behind her, leaning beside her.

Tall and beautiful, the fellow dragon is mostly comprised of blue fur and silver, rings of the metal woven throughout her groomed mane where it stretches from head to tail. An almost theatrical, deep blue leather duster with silver bracers is worn unbuttoned to reveal a white shirt with a blue sash and large pantaloons ending in rugged leather boots. A strap across the chest anchors the sheath at her hip, housing a unique sword that resembles a dadao crossed with a scimitar and fit with a handguard that was forged with two curved spikes designed to heavily discourage grabbing it from the wielder mid-combat.

Desty regards the bosun, still unsure of her authority on the ship. The title of first mate belongs to Zaryl, but Valkyrie, called Valky by the crew, walks over him like mud on the road without abusing the privilege. It was confusing why their roles were not swapped until it became obvious he simply has a deeply soft spot for her. The devil-may-care attitude he carries hides a vigilant, sharp mind that has caught cheeky crew and foes alike with their pants down. She’s heard rumors a few occasions it was more than metaphorical.

“Not yet,” Desty says. “I’ve been robbed of this view my whole life.”

“Hah! Does that mean I can count on you not turning into a homesick schoolgirl on us?”

“Absolutely not! I’ll sooner end up a frozen statue in space as a monument to my failures than go back.”

“An excellent attitude,” Valky nods before playfully adding, “Now get back to coiling that rope, ya lay about!”

“Alright, alright! But why even use rope instead of automated systems?”

“The same reason as the sails to supplement the old boosters on the hull: we can find the parts to fix those anywhere. We can’t afford to be predictable and needing specialty equipment will only add to that.”

“Fences don’t carry what you need?” Desty queries as she tidies the rope. “I thought that was the whole point of black markets.”

“Okay, you got me, there’s more than one reason. Tools, increased costs, knowledge of repairs, risks of stuff blowing up, believe me when I say much smarter pirates have tried to make it work and they either smashed into an asteroid, their tinker’s nightmare of a gizmo blew up, or they got caught. Turns out rocket science is hard.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that!”

“But hey, if you can make something that propels us forward on rum and space dust, I’ll be the first to support it,” Valky chuckles as she waves and returns below deck to continue her duties.

Most of the crew is sleeping but there is still someone at the helm, another in the crow’s nest, a few deck swabbers doing their part in the ever-constant war to keep the ship clean. That would be Desty’s fate as well if she wasn’t a capable clerk. Between Yskra, Zaryl, and a few other crew, inventory management, finances, and other necessary paper tasks on the ship are boring as the night is long and they were more than happy to offload it onto her.

Fortunately, it’s not hard to do and most of the work only needs doing once or twice a week, leaving her with free time to explore the ship, familiarize herself with the crew, and get more acquaintance below the belt of her captain. Behind her in the captain’s quarters, Yskra is reading a book with a bird in his lap, Robyn. They’re predominantly white feathered with a tawny chocolate crest and amber eyes, currently asleep against him after receiving a hard plowing.

As it turns out, Yskra has his own harem of crew he grabs whenever he pleases, but Robyn in particular is his personal fleshlight, used almost exclusively for his rough moods. Desty almost feels a little jealous. Almost. It’s obvious her own shine on Yskra will wear off and she’ll be just another member of the crew. At least, that’s what she thinks. And a small idea begins to form in her head, spooling out like a wheel of ribbon beneath the hands of a careful tailor.

Yskra’s crew managed to get away with a lot of rare jewelry from the Kelmons and are in the process of selling it off, but one thing still evades a buyer and will for a very long time: Madam Kelmon’s wedding band. She must have had a maid clean it or something along those lines before it was nicked because it would be an absolute scandal at court to find out she not only took it off but allowed the symbol of her marriage to be stolen. Appearances are everything in high society, after all. Whoever returned the ring would certainly have a lot to gain. That someone could be Desty. And she’d be the cunning risk-taker that risked it all to cross Yskra and the infamous Archie’s crew, the Wicked Gold, and got away with it. Ohhh, yes, that sounds fine indeed…

Robyn, on shaky legs, climbs the crow’s nest to relieve the current sentry, and from the open door into his quarter’s, Yskra beckons Desty with a crooked finger. It’s clear from his erection he’s ready for another round, and after closing the door behind her, the dragoness lowers to her knees in front of him and lavishes a lick upon his shaft as she looks up into his eyes.

“Good girl~ You know what my tongue can do, but we can’t say the same for vice versa. Would you help me find out?”

With a sultry smile, Desty licks along his entire length in teasing, slow strokes as she fondles his still heavy balls.

“I couldn’t bear to disappoint you, my devil,” She croons, taking his tip into her mouth and ever so slowly descending down his shaft.

Yskra watches, cheek resting on his hand as he relaxes back into his chair to enjoy the sights, sounds, and feeling of the beautiful dragoness servicing him. This sort of thing is the exact reason his cabin floor is padded with a lush silk carpet, after all. Desty is unimpeded by his length entering her throat and happily falls into a bobbing, quick pace, her tongue curling around and stroking his erection in tandem and playing perfectly on every sound, quick breath, and moan he makes.

She needs no help to pleasure him, and his mood bids him to leave her to the task, enjoying her blushed cheeks and the cute gaze of her eyes behind the large round glasses constantly adorning her snout. The fact Desty is proving right now she could take him mounting and face fucking her throat is incredibly enticing, but that’s something to save for when she either needs or wants to be punished. On that thought, Yskra makes a note to himself to never be too hasty to forget her second set of eyes, lest they be broken and he’s unable to replace them.

Desty’s thoughts are only half on the blowjob, ensuring her tongue is constantly padding the glide of his shaft into her maw, his furry orbs do not go neglected, and also on how she could not just double cross him, but imprison him! Ho-ho, now that would be something! She’d have to engineer the situation perfectly, but while he still wants her regularly in his bed, it would just be a matter of running down his endurance until a few ropes would go unnoticed in his sleep. She’s certainly had more than enough practice tying knots to do it.

The night after a good plundering, when the crew drinks heavy and are too drunk to either stop her or be awake, that’s when she can toss him into an escape raft and take off to the nearest guard post. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together. Her thoughts are so focused she doesn’t feel his urethra swell with semen and it explodes into her throat in hot, thick gouts. Surprised, she handles it for a moment before being reminded the hard way this man does not unload lightly and wrenches herself off, coughing and a few drops of raptor seed flowing out of her nostrils as several more ropes of seed shoot across her face, smearing her glasses in the process.

She quickly takes the offered handkerchief and wipes away what she can before it drips onto her clothes, along with a sip of wine to cleanse her throat. He’s more chivalrous than she thought as he immediately hops up to get a towel and cleans her up, apologizing for not warning her he was close. No one has ever cared enough to do that before, especially the nobility she’s laid with.

Okay. She thinks to herself. So. Maybe this will be more difficult than I thought.

Pulling out a spyglass, Yskra views in the distance a merchant ship heavy with goods, judging by their speed despite the propelling rockets of the vessel near full power. It’s perfect. Too perfect. Desty beside him asks for the telescope from where she stands between the captain and first mate and quickly picks out a few flaws before shaking her head.

“That’s a pirate trap if I’ve ever seen one. The rockets are burning a spiked fuel mix to make the flames look sputtering like it’s running low, and her crew is doing useless tasks repeatedly,” She says. “All they need is the Archie to fire a shot and there will be small fighting gliders pouring out of the nooks and crannies of this asteroid field.”

Yskra narrows his eyes with a smile and looks over to Zaryl who is already holding the betted doubloon the captain happily plucks away. The first mate is a little shorter than Yskra but heavier built, wearing a thick leather dress coat complete with matching gloves, pants, boots, and a frilly collar. The hydra is a deep blue color with a white underside and large eyes with no whites, only piercing yellow. Frills growing along his cheeks and frame his face, and gorgeous yellow and orange fins edged with blue grow along his head and back, ending double sided along his long, thick tail.

“How do you know that?” Zaryl demands, flabbergasted she would be knowledgeable thusly.

Yskra isn’t the type to rig bets against his own crew. Not unless the reward is some form of sex, that is.

“A surprising number of retired guards are allowed to write memoirs that include the tactics they used in hunting pirates, and I have some surface knowledge of ship engines and rockets from flirting with engineering guild members,” Desty shrugs. “I put two and two together into an educated guess.”

“You hold a lot of surprises for a clerk,” He snorts, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a good natured, if a little infuriated, sigh. “Well, it’s good to be aware you’ve apparent broad knowledge on a lot of things. Next time I’ll consider that before this smarmy bastard proposes another bet.”

Yskra guffaws and pats his back fondly, Zaryl ordering the crew to keep sailing. However, with another fourth of a light year’s worth sailing, another ship can be spotted trying to hide itself from them by purposefully strafing along a sun where it’s hard to track in the blinding light. That trick would work if Valky didn’t bring the specially lensed telescope from where it’s usually safely kept below deck. With it, it’s more than easy to find since it now sticks out against the background of the gas fireball, a small merchant company vessel that’s usually much swifter.

It’s not uncommon for captains to be frugal with their fuel and fly at the most efficient speed their engines burn at, but some will also refuse to pay for the cutthroat fuel prices at the smaller ports. Since the Archie uses solar wind as its predominant propelling method, the crew are all willing to test their luck the quarry doesn’t have enough fuel to outrun them.

Every thread of sail laid bare, boosters set to full, and the crew scrambling to keep their flight path optimal, the Archie flies on the solar winds towards their target, the sun unwittingly being the merchant’s downfall as its cosmic rays give a powerful tailwind to their pursuers. Zaryl descends from the helm and down below into the ship to give orders, and Desty flinches as a cannon suddenly goes off. With precise aim, it smashes into one of the supports of the merchant ship’s rockets, causing it to break off and fly away instead of risking an explosion from a direct hit.

Suddenly careening to the side, it’s vulnerable to grapple hooks being thrown against it, and the smaller crew of the merchant scramble to pull weapons out. The captain in particular suddenly looks up to the sound of multiple guns cocking, finding the entire crew of the Wicked Gold pointing both cannon and powdered shot in their direction. Their ship begins to spin and grind against the hull of the Archie, but her reinforced iron sides aren’t even scratched before the merchants wisely turn off the other rocket. This close, it is apparent from the lettering the merchant ship is called The Spirit of Profit.

“Your cargo and your coin are of interest, but your lives are not,” Yskra calls from the helm, putting himself in front of Desty should someone be foolhardy enough to shoot in their direction. “Surrender, and you will all leave with your lives.”

“Done!” The captain immediately calls out, suddenly recognizing the pirates by the distinctive appearance of their captain. “If the Wicked Gold can outfight a navy ship, we stand no chance!”

“That you do not!” Zaryl calls out, “Now drop your weapons and put your hands where we can see them!”

They comply and the pirates immediately spill onto their prey’s ship, swiftly tying up and collecting their prisoners in a line along the main deck. Both Zaryl and Valky are watchful of both the prisoners and the crew for shenanigans, the bosun drawing her blade and descending below with part of the boarding party as the rest prepare to rapidly transfer over their cargo. It takes less than ten minutes for the rest of the merchant crew’s stragglers hiding below to be brought up and the captain’s safe seized along with half a cargo hold full of strong spirits and liquor, much to the cheering of the pirates.

Desty is pleasantly surprised by this turn of events and after everything not nailed down with any sort of value is taken, Yskra calls for untying of the captives and to prepare for disembarking. That is, until Zaryl and two others haul up a bundle of blankets around two people. One is a crewmate, and the other is a thoroughly embarrassed draconic man from the merchant’s crew covered head to toe in long and silky strawberry red fur with a white underbelly. Two sets of horns grow from his head, a third smaller and azure one along the tip of his nose as well.

“So, we have a bit of a problem, captain,” Zaryl says. “When we weren’t looking, this sorry excuse of a marauder snuck into their crew quarters, lept on our horned fellow here, and has now tied the knot in more ways than one. We tried, but trust me when I tell you, they’re not getting unstuck for a while.”

The canine pirate looks away from Zaryl’s stern gaze as it turns to him, flattening his ears. Cocking his head, Yskra raises the chin of their new captive to get a good look at him and chuckles a bit.

“You’re into this, aren’t you?” Yskra questions, the dragon shivering under his gaze as his already flush face is suffused with blood.

“N-n-n!” He stutters, trying to say ‘no’, but stifling a gasp and letting out a girlish yelp as Yskra pushes the tied crewmate back a few steps back and then forward, grinding the canine’s still rock-hard cock inside him. “Ah- ahh!~ S-stop doing that!”

“You’re far too soft to be a sailor. I’m assuming you’re the cook’s assistant, yes?” Yskra asks.

“Y-yeah…”

“Are you any good at it?”

“Uh-uhmm,” He stutters, taking a moment to process the fact this conversation is even happening. “I’ve… not been told I’m bad at it.”

“Our crew needs one and that’s good enough for me! Collect his belongings,” Yskra orders before noticing the sudden panic entering the man’s eyes. “Oh, don’t worry! The crew will be gentle with you, I promise.”

He does not look reassured but seems more overcome with fluster than fear as two brightly colored raptors from the crew, usually tending to the rigging overhead, flank the tied together duo and take them below deck. Desty is a little puzzled at first and gets halfway through asking what’s going to happen to him when Valky taps her on the shoulder and makes a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

“Ohhh. Yeah, no, I should have guessed that one,” Desty says.

“You’re catching on, though!” Valky states and returns to her duties, but not before adding over her shoulder. “Slowly, maybe, but surely.”

The Archie sails into unguarded, safer space to rest for the night as the crew inevitably starts to rally into one unruly voice to uncork the newly acquired goods. The ship officers are especially willing to relent after cracking open the stolen safe in Yskra’s cabin reveals a small fortune of gemstones polished, cut, and ready to be set into jewelry.

“He must have had a side business,” Desty notes, examining one of the sapphires. “These aren’t the greatest quality but the workmanship is decent.”

“It’ll be enough to finally replace that faulty capacitor in the electrical system!” Valky asserts. “We’ve been jury rigging it for the past three months.”

“Damn, and here I wanted a new pistol,” Zaryl snorts, helping Desty sort the gems into separate bags by color before putting them in Yskra’s lockbox.

With that, the broken safe is thrown overboard and the crew is finally unleashed upon the stolen cargo after mooring within the crevice of an asteroid. Desty was prepared to argue the crew should be rewarded after a successful plunder, should the captain choose to be more stern and sell the booze, but saves her breath and instead uses it handing out drinks most of the night and talking with the crew, drinking a considerable amount herself until her cheeks are warm and fuzzy.

Long into the celebration by this point and having made more than a few friends, she notices a lovely pangolin woman who eyes her and makes an enticing offer with a tongue lashing between two long, clawed fingers. Desty shakes her head with a smile, receiving a wink in response and their tongue sliding out to twice the length showing previously, surpising Desty so much she lets out a small, flustered noise at the unexpected, lewd gesture and immediately cut herself off from drink, lest she lose focus on the task at hand and makes way over to Yskra where he’s playing cards. A cute chuckle from the pangolin follows her retreat.

It's not long before the pot is won by a handsome orange and cream feathered osprey, Yskra excusing himself after losing more than enough money for the night and letting Desty lead him back to his cabin. Kissing each other deeply, Desty finds herself melting in his arms as he scratches behind her ears and down her neck to caress her back, whispering sweet nothings he undoes the buttons on her clothes, and she does the same for him.

She moans as he grips one of her breasts in one hand, lightly massaging the sensitive nipple with his thumb while the other falls lower and probes her slit, his fingers coming away slick from how worked up the foreplay has made her. Satisfied, he lays on the bed and brings her to rest on top of him, laying on him this time as he thrusts to spear her on his shaft. Her moan is encouraging, and he continues to bury himself down the hilt, enjoying how soft she is against him as she nuzzles and pleads for him to keep going.

Thrusting up into her, her depths are practically custom made for him after having her to himself for over a week, gripping wonderfully and pushing down into each thrust until she sits up to bounce up and down on his shaft with wet, heavy slaps as her hips meet his with each hump. Their tempo gets faster and harder until, with a heavy snarl, Yskra grabs her shoulders and hammers into her sex with short, power thrusts until slamming in one last time.

Desty counts three pumps before his cum splurts out, filling her womb full and leaving her body sore but satisfied. Still, she has ambition and she intends to fulfill it, laying on top of him with his length inside her and taking a few minutes to bask in the afterglow with him before suggesting round two. This is the first time she’s taken him up on that offer he made when they first arrived on his ship, and Yskra is more than happy to fulfill it. She rises onto all fours, and he takes her doggystyle until her legs are shuddering so badly she can’t hold herself up but still cries out for more.

Laying on top of her, he plows her in the speed bump position, and then missionary, lap riding, from behind, from the front, at one point he carries and then fucks her against the wall, and Desty finally comes to the determination, after he ties her wrists behind her back and then uses the rope as leverage to breed her in a kneeling position she doesn’t even know the name of, that, just maybe, she cannot hope to outlast this man in endurance.

Her senses dulling and exhaustion taking over, Desty still feels a thrill from the sudden control Yskra has over her with her hands bound, the way his dirty talk suddenly shifts, the manner in which he uses her, but as he brings her to the umpteenth climax, her tired body finally catches up to her and she falls asleep against his pillow with a small moan that trails off. With no small amount of satisfaction, Yskra undoes the ropes and cleans her up before pulling the covers over them both.

Desty wakes up shortly before the crew begins to rouse and move about the ship, Yskra’s breath softly blowing against her ear from where his chin rests on her head. That warm feeling in her chest; she tries to tell herself is just latent alcohol. The aching of her muscles, however, she regards as very real. Inevitably, it comes time to rise as the raptor awakens and affectionately rubs her shoulders.

“That! Was a great night, you. Did Robyn ask you for a day off or something?” Yskra chortles.

“It looked so fun I thought I’d give it a try, you know?”

“Annd?”

“You fuck like a stallion, you brute!”

“But are you satisfied by your devil?”

“… Very,” She admits with a blush. “And I’d like to do it again.”

With a snort of amusement, the captain purrs in her ear, “Good girl~”.

Giving her a rub on the rump, Yskra rises, knowing full well he just made her melt and goes to dress himself.

“How are you getting along with the crew?” He asks as he buttons his shirt in the mirror.

“Oh. They’re… a lot friendlier than I thought they’d be,” Desty admits.

“We may be pirates, but we don’t bite. Well. Not without good reason, at least.”

“Well, it’s just that you have such a reputation!”

“Oh, in boarding combat we’re unmatchable. Large cargo ships fear us, especially after the council decided to remove the cannons from any ship not built expressly for war! Hah! Best favor I ever called in.”

“You mean to tell me you have sway on the council?”

“In a roundabout manner, yes! I have blackmail on several of their donors.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, you know, evidence of consorting with blackguards, persuading a lover to steal a housing deed or writ of nobility, one to four of a certain noble house’s children may be mine… I was a very decent charlatan before a pirate. I best catch up with Valky on any new equipment failures, but take another couple of hours to rest if you need it.”

Like that, he’s gone, and just as quickly, Desty hops up and begins carefully searching the room top to bottom. Her fingers are light, and she puts things back the way she finds them when a spot yields no results. She succeeds in finding his secret stash of rum, and that’s about it. She was also there for the lock box being opened and closed, and the ring was not in there either. Where did the devil hide it, then?”

With an annoyed sigh, she sits back down on the bed and regards the silk sheets for a moment. Truly, she’s not any more uncomfortable than when she was living among socialites and the present company is certainly more compelling. They like her easily enough, and it’s not hard with a few drinks and light prodding just about anyone can find a complaint about Yskra. Maybe they’d like to not live raid to raid on a beat-up ship as well. With the ring returned, there’d be more than enough money to meet the crew’s needs and wants, and they’d have Desty to thank for it.

Zaryl seems like he might be amendable to the idea of mutiny, but certainly not Valky. Not right away, anyways. As for Yskra himself… there would be no reason to turn him in with the coin brought in by the ring. She could keep him to herself. Maybe he’d fall in line to her command if the crew supports her, or maybe he’ll just have to stay tied to his chair as her personal dildo.

Enacting this is easier said than done. First, she needs to get familiar with the crew, talking with each person, learning their name, their likes, their quirks, and then what makes them dissatisfied. Armed with that information, she can then joke or imply she’d make a better captain. Some catch on quickly, and at first there is hesitation from the first few recruits, but after getting several of the crew to support her bid for command, it’s much easier to get the others to agree.

As for the problem of the two officers, that pleasantly resolves itself. Desty was worried they would catch on, and so Zaryl did, but instead of throwing her in the bilge, he approaches her during dinner and quietly hints support in a conversation about qualities of a leader. And those who fail to see them… they’ll come around eventually. Slowly converting the crew is, of course, a several week process full of bribes and hard liquor. More raids come and go, loot exchanged, pays divvied out, and she does her damndest to keep Yskra interested in her. The more love addled he is, the less attention he’ll pay to rumors about her, after all. What she fails to realize is she instead shows him just how many ways she can be used as a hole.

Nightly they make love multiple times, and her endurance adjusts enough to at least stop fainting on him. He notices she’s trying, and that’s what counts. It is easy to broach the idea of rope play as well, making this almost too easy. It starts with on her, and it becomes quite regular for them to the point he doesn’t even bat an eye when she wants to tie his hands against the headboard or help him ambush and tastefully restrain Robyn. The latter predictably ends with the bird being roughly shagged, and while they love it in the moment, there is more than a little ruffle to their feathers after the fact.

As it turns out, fueling the bird’s bratty side smooths those feathers over, and agreeing to throw in a small bag of doubloons in to sweeten the deal makes it easy to get them to agree to help turn the tables on him. Especially so with the idea Yskra would become the personal sex toy instead if Desty’s captain. Coordinating all of this with the end of the next raid results in surely the perfect plan to usurp the captain and has very few fault points whatsoever... Desty could scarcely believe it could happen this fast, but these pirates are only a litter harder to play than nobility.

“Silver lining of nabbing a farming conglomerate’s barge is the fresh food,” Yskra sighs pleasantly as he takes a large quaff of juice mixed with rum, a more refined version of grog by a large margin.

“Mmm, for sure,” Valky nods from where she rips into a gigantic spit roasted turkey drumstick. “Fuck me, we don’t get enough meat around here.”

“You only need ask nicely…” Zaryl winks.

In response, Valky suddenly rips a strip of flesh from top to bottom off the drumstick and chews it with a toothy grin, the hydra taking the obvious rejection in stride with a laugh.

“Hmm… what if I said please, captain?” Desty croons next to his ear.

“Oh? That’d be a first,” Yskra says with a raised brow and a half grin. “What in the stars could you want so badly?”

“Us, actually,” Robyn beams as they appear on his other side. “And it’s not what we want captain…”

The bird suddenly gets closer to him to twitter in a soft voice, “It’s what we really need_._ Our heat is starting and we’re ready to start turning to the rest of the crew if you can’t – right now.”

The raptor seems a little surprised by this information; his nose usually catches that before a lover knows it themselves, but it’s serious if Robyn is willing to directly state what they want, rather than pester and squawk until he pushes them against the nearest wall. The same could be said of Desty lately, the woman becoming both coy and a little brattish except when he’s inside her.

“How could I possibly refuse such a dire request?” Yskra smirks, finishing his drink and standing before he allows the two to whisk him off in the direction of his cabin.

Coming through the door, both hang on one of his arms and guide him to his desk chair already positioned in the center of his room. Evidently, they’re very eager. Robyn sitting him down, Desty practically tears off her clothes and all but yanks his pants down, his considerable length springing free and at the ready. Her mouth is warm and excited as her tongue directs it into her hungry depths, the sudden heat and slick grip enough to distract him as his spare belt is tightened around his calves. Robyn then immediately tightens a leather restrain on his right wrist and the two move quick to slam his left arm down as he realizes what’s happening, Desty fastening it in place.

For the moment, he’s stunned into silence the two even had it in them to so aggressively take charge, Desty climbing into his lap and fondling his suddenly very excited cock.

“So, I was thinking: what would happen if I was in charge, eh?” She grins wolfishly, “Do you like that idea?”

“Oh, really now? Do you think you can handle the responsibility?” Yskra half grins, his bravado shaken but still believing this is nothing more than some kinky roleplay.

“There might be a learning curve or two, but I think I’ll manage just fine.”

“Then by all m-EAaannns…,” He moans as she sinks herself onto his shaft. “Go ahead.”

Even so, he smells mischief with Robyn not leaping on this chance like a ravenous war hound and turns to see her pilfering his good bourbon.

“Oi, you little shit! You don’t even like drinking that!” He scoffs, “What are you–”

He stops himself midsentence as he looks at Desty, back to Robyn, back at Desty, back to Robyn, and then it finally hits him: this isn’t just sex.

“Okay. First question: how the actual hell did you get Robyn to cooperate with… anything!?” He demands like the ship is on fire, more flummoxed by that than the ongoing mutiny.

“You’d be surprised what a little one on one can achieve, captain. Oh, right, it’s just Yskra now.”

“Huh… I had no idea Robyn could swing that way.”

“I’m allowed to experiment without your say so,” Robyn snarks as they walk out with his brandy as well.

“Since when, you squawking harlot – mmmrfmm!” Yskra calls after the bird indignantly as the door is closed on their way out, Desty cutting him off with another restraint around the muzzle.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Desty tuts as she takes his hat and dons it. “I’m in charge now, cap’n.”

Her sudden confidence is striking, the dragon’s hips beginning to rise and fall on his dick with only the intent to pleasure herself. This is not the first time but certainly the sexiest way the rug has been pulled out from under the raptor. Letting her hair down and tossing the glasses aside, the bookish girl is suddenly a bold firebrand that rides him with no small amount of gratification. Using the hem of his coat for grip, headless of fraying it, she pounds down again and again in his lap, her thighs wrapping around his and pushing them together to make more room on the chair for her.

Her pace is hard and the vice of her snatch on his dick just as strong as the restraints, the raptor finding himself sitting back and allow it to happen without so much as a hint of struggling as heat rises to his face and his loins throb even harder for it.

“You’re much nicer like this: my toy, satisfying my needs first and foremost,” She croons, caressing his jaw. “You’re being such a good boy for me already! I can feel how hard this gets you too! You gonna cum for me soon? It’s okay if you want to; I’m just getting started!”

With short, heavy pumps that spread her wide and drive his tool into the perfect spot, Desty cries out in ecstasy as she climaxes. It’s like being milked by a succubus, her vagina a hole that devours his length and squeezes around him until his heavy breaths become uncoordinated. He makes the minimal desperate humps he can, confused in the mind but the body very willing, and the raptor erupts inside her in forceful gouts, gushing out in thick splashes when the pressure becomes too great to hold in.

“Oh-ho! My dear, that was more than normal. Seems to me like you needed this little vacation,” She giggles, the raptor letting out an overstimulated huff as she spins around to sit against him like a big warm chair. “Mmm… I do like this.”s

There’s a knock at the door and Desty calls for them to come in, much to Yskra’s chagrin at being found like this.

“Oh. You actually did it,” Valky observes with a small smile. “How the high and mighty fall...”

“Indeed!”

“So, I heard you intend to return the Kelmon wedding band. Any idea where it is?”

“Not yet. But we have more than enough time for me to drag my feet a few days before getting to that point.”

“True… by the way, you know Robyn purposefully half asses things when it’s of no consequence to them, right?”

“What do you mean by that- AHH!” Desty shrieks as Yskra’s arms wrap around her like a steel vice, his right hand having wiggled free from the loose restraint and silently undone the other.

With a bit of twisting and using his tail, he pulls off his boot and pants, taking the restraining belt with them before he can finally pull the muzzle off.

“I’ll be sure to give my ride of the Valkyyrie, later. But for the here and now, there’s no actual mutiny, correct?” Yskra asks as he promptly takes his hat back from a suddenly very quiet and still Desty.

“None at all. I’d be very ungrateful of us all to do such a thing.”

“Then how did this get so far with you knowing?”

“That’s simple,” She smirks, moving aside for Zaryl to saddle up alongside her in the doorframe

“It’s a helluva lot funnier that way!” He laughs. “Robyn described the look on your face to us! Haha-ha!”

“Oh, it seems you had a grand old time with it!” Yskra chuckles harshly, his eyes and teeth gleaming like a mischievous fox. “I wish to show you both, my loyal officers, the depths to which the length of my gratitude reaches for being such loyal crew! Right here, in fact, tomorrow morning! Clear your schedules and don’t be late! Or I might get impatient and make a scene in front of the crew.”

“How could I possibly refuse such an invitation?” Valky purrs, a sultry smile on her lips. “We look forward to it, right Zaryl?”

The first mate’s face is visibly blushing a deeper blue, his good mood turning to ash, and it only gets worse as Yskra gives him a targeted, hungry lick of the lips.

“C’mon, let’s leave him to it.” The dragoness murmurs to the hydra, pulling him away and closing the door with the next part of their exchange audible. “I have a strap on if you want to start stretching out now, sweetie.”

With that, they’re gone, and Desty is left alone with the man she just tried to betray, realizing she made an egregious mistake: thinking that pirates were as fickle as nobility.

“Now, now, now… what made you try and do a silly thing like that?” Yskra growls huskily into her ear.

“I–I, erm…” She stutters.

“Oh, please do go on.”

“I w-wanted to be more than just some fling with you. You would’ve grown bored of me, just like Valky.”

“Bored? My new pet, not even remotely close!” Yskra declares as he pushes her onto the bed, pulling out a bundled length of soft red cord from under it and tying her hands together behind her back. “Don’t tell me this mutiny was because you thought I would one day be done with you?”

He dexterously ties the rope just above and then below her breasts to accentuate them with perfect rings before going further down and putting loops across her thighs for a later use.

“I’m not so debased as to toss such a gorgeous toy to the curb!” He continues, “I keep it and remind myself regularly of why I loved it so much. Go ahead and ask her yourself. That is, after your punishment.”

“W-what are you going t-to do?” She shudders, his hand caressing her bare belly before he pauses to fully undress.

“I’ve got a lot of sudden frustration to work out. And while I certainly have a few heart-to-hearts planned, it all comes back to you. What have you got to say for yourself, hmm?”

“I… I…” Desty struggles to come up with anything to say, and then her last bit of resistance decides to burn bright like a supernova as she yells with the confidence of a liberal arts major, “I regret not pegging you when I had the chance, you gullible, frilly assed, birdy bitch!”

“I’msogonnawreckyourfuckin’hole!” Yskra snarls with a furious grin, slamming her into the bed before following up with a balls deep thrust into her cum dripping snatch forcefully enough she involuntarily gasps.

Several more stinging, wet slaps of his flesh against hers follow before he decides his clemency has been fully used up. He was going to let her moan into a pillow to hide her shame, but if that’s the way it’s going to be, then the entire damn ship gets to hear instead! Yanking her up by the tied hands and robbing her of the muffling silk, her moans are heard well beyond the cabin of the ship as he bounces her roughly in his lap, girl cum flowing down his thighs and flying off in droplets as she reaches climax from the merciless treatment.

“You’re going to be my bitch after I’m done with you! So much jizz shoved in this tight little cunt I’ll have a second crew by tomorrow!” He promises, “Let’s get a start to that, shall we!”

Hilting her and grinding hard into her loins, he even cums with more force than normal, firing into her womb like a cannon with enough vigor she can feel every spurt. It bubbles out of her hole in lewd, white globs and he picks right up the tempo right where he left off. Pushed face down into the rug, butt in the air as he humps down into her love canal, she still automatically clenches down on his raging erection. Every thrust rams through any resistance, each pump leaving a sting deep inside her as his tip rams into her cervix, but she’s never been more intensely aroused in her life.

“Fuck!” She gasps. “Y-you’re going to break me!”

“You can take it,” He growls, suddenly reaching down to grasp her shoulders and slam fuck her. “You’ve bounced on this devil’s cock so many times you’re like a tailor made cocksleever.”

She lets out a high pitched scream of pleasure as he fills her with a second load, the warmth, the heat, and the pressure as he forces her womb to fill with more seed sending her over the edge again. Flipped onto her back, he continues to batter down her defenses until there’s no resistance left, another load being fired home and then pushing her onto her side for a new position.

Raising one of her legs up, he spears her gash on his cock again and strikes points that were neglected enough they haven’t gone numb yet. By this point, Desty is mumbling apologies, begging for mercy, but he heads nor believes none of it, fucking another shot of raptor essence into her. Just as she thinks she’s gone mercifully numb, she’s pulled onto her knees and mouth filled with cock.

“Take deep breaths. They’ll be few and far between,” He warns her before proceeding to ram his shaft into her throat.

It visibly bulges out, but she doesn’t gag, though tears come to her eyes, and he humps her mounted face like a fleshlight. His cum smeared balls slap against her chin wetly, somehow still heavy and pulsing. It’s not long before he hilts himself, leaving her nose buried in the musky scent of his crotch while he dumps another payload of cum inside, shortly after pulling out enough she can gasp in a few breaths. Then it goes right back in. The second time around his heavy load flows back up, leaking out her nose and leaving the dragon coughing when he pulls off.

She gets a few minutes to rest while he pulls the rope back out, looping it into restraints on small hooks in the ceiling and tying it to the rigging already in place on her thighs. Very quickly, she’s dangling above the ground, legs spread, and heated sex dripping. She squirms but makes no head way, gripped by the hips from the front and unable to do anything but watch as he buries his manhood in her enflamed sex again.

Something about being so helpless and vulnerable strikes a cord in her, and Desty finds herself begging for more, for him to not stop and keep breeding her hole until she’s heavy with his clutch.

“Good girl!” He roars approvingly. “That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear.”

“Fill me, ruin me, I don’t care, just don’t stop!” She pants, tongue lolling out as his lovemaking brings racking orgasms, one after the other as he hits just the right spot with each deep thrust of his avian tool.

She’s not entirely sure when it stops, time slowing to a crawl from experiencing such raw sensation. His words fill her head as he fills her body, lust, pleasure, and mounting exhaustion the only thing in her mind until it blurs into a drowsy infinity there is no pulling meaningful comprehension from. She wakes up sore and lead limbed in bed, smelling of him with his seed still warm and leaking from her netherlips. He’s sleeping beside her, but lightly enough his eyes open when she groggily shifts into a more comfortable position.

“I take it that the ring was a cornerstone of your mutiny?” He asks.

She nods bashfully.

“I hope that little ambition is nipped in the bud, but if it isn’t, we’ll repeat this as many times as necessary,” He promises with scritches along the back of her ear she leans into. “Do you want to know where the ring was this whole time

“Some secret wall safe or shoe compartment?” She guesses, truly not caring anymore.

“Nope!” He says, reaching his hand into the fur on her tail and pulling out a small velvet bag she hadn’t noticed among the others.

“I…” She sighs. “I admit, I would have never expected that.”

“I could always trust you’d be back in my room, so it wasn’t hard to keep an eye on.”

“What happens now?”

“Mmm, well! You’re still the ship clerk and my lover. I’ll just be keeping you on a tight leash for a good long while.”

“You’re not going to get rid of me at the nearest port?”

“I did tell you, right before shagging you an entire night, that I don’t do that.”

“I tried to organize a mutiny!”

“And it never would have gone anywhere no matter how hard you tried. So, no harm, no foul! In fact, I would have never realized how much you like shibari without this little incident.”

Her face flushes at this, and his knowing grin only makes it worse as he plants a small peck on her nose, producing a small cute and embarrassed noise from her throat.

“I do have my disciplinary meeting with my officers, though. Do you mind taking a long breakfast?” Yskra hums. “Oh, and bring me up some as well?”

“You ruin my ass and then expect me to walk down there?”

“Yes,” He replies with a charming smile. “I’m a very busy man with preparations to make! Besides, it’ll get a lot less sore when you start moving.”

“Heh. Fine. But give me a real kiss,” She requests.

“That’s only fair,” He ascents, their snouts locking and tongues pressing against one another in a passionate French kiss he breaks with a heavy breath. “Don’t get me too worked up now…”

“Aye, aye, cap’n,” She snickers, getting out of bed to pull on a change of clothes and comb her feathers and fur back into some semblance of a dragon.

The walk of shame doesn’t even begin to describe her descent into the ship, slow, slightly limping, and even the idea of sitting is painful, but she keeps her head high and meets every gaze with a confident smile. After all, she crossed Yskra, captain of the Archie, crewed by the feared Wicked Gold, and all she got was a literal and metaphorical slap on the ass. That fact is not lost on the crew. Some respect it, a few even admire it, and others think she’s just a slut that got too arrogant.

Suffice to say, she’ll have to do a lot of work to repair her relationship with the crew, starting over from square one now that they’ve seen the real Desty.

“Hey there,” She says to the cook as she reaches the counter overlooking the kitchen. “Two plates. One for me and the captain.”

“Coming right up,” He nods, one of the few truly sober people awake among the hungover crew.

“Remind me, rum rations have to be paid for past the first on normal nights, yeah?” She asks.

“Correct.”

“Who’s ready for some hair of the dog?” Desty declares to the weary crew, smacking a purloined wallet onto the counter. “The real captain upstairs finds your loyalty fit to reward!”

Robyn recognizes it as Yskra’s from where she sits at one of the tables and is the first to pump their arm in the air and raise their voice. In his cabin, Yskra begins to deeply kiss Valkyrie as Zaryl watches from where he is tied up and gagged in the corner cuck chair, the hydra a fruity distraction for the raptor when she needs a break, and they’re interrupted by a cheer going across the ship.

“Maybe it would have been wise to leave her tied up for another day,” Valky muses as the raptor breaks the kiss with a harried sigh.

“It would appear so,” Yskra sighs. “Let’s go see what nonsense she’s started now.”

Without pausing, the two throw on clothes and leave Zaryl alone with the door slightly ajar, the the first mate not sure if they genuinely forgot about him or if this is their idea of teasing.

A “Put it on my desk for me, if you would” from Yskra is followed by two large, bluecat eyes peaking around the door a moment later, Zaryl’s face going heated with shame as he recognizes their new cook’s assistant. Slowly creeping inside, his eyes fixed on the hydra, he puts the plate down where he was told and stands there, unsure of what to do with himself but very clearly liking what he sees.

“Ah!” The dragon cries as he snaps out of it, “T-that was weird! Erm, sorry!”

He turns to leave but a muffled sound from Zaryl makes him stop and turn around before he inches forward to awkwardly reach and pull free the gag.

“You wanna feel what it’s like to be in control for once?” He offers suddenly. “It’s going to be a loud romp down there anyways.”

The assistant’s eyes go wide, drawn to his body and the idea of having it, but he makes little shy noises instead of providing an answer.

“I don’t bite. Much. C’mon, you don’t want to feel how many ridges my cock has?”

He nods, slowly coaxed by his commanding officer with soft words to strip off his pants, giving the hydra an eyeful of his soft, fluffy butt and causing him to form an erection. Seeing the other male’s arousal, the dragon’s nervousness melts just enough to climb on top and discover receiving dick on his own terms is a treat indeed.