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Grim-faced, Beryl carefully skirted the eastern edge of [Marsh Island], ensuring to keep herself concealed from any farsighted sentries of the distant [Rayne Syndicate Oil Rig]. She'd a [Stone Spear] to defend herself with, and was confident enough in its use to fend off any roaming Pal that might think to make a meal of her, provided that nothing so unexpectedly powerful as that [Lovander] from the other day ambushed her again. Her weapon shook as she envisioned the fate that she would have endured had the lewd Pal managed to capture her; every islander knew what it meant to be made the plaything of such a creature, after all. Human or Pal, male or female, it mattered little to those beasts – should you find yourself in their clutches then your future was to be overpowered by their pheromones, your mind twisted towards depravity, and your body made receptive to it. Submission was inevitable, and by the end, it was wilful as well.

For her people, to mate with a Pal was considered to be the height of deviancy, the ultimate taboo, and those that indulged in such an act, be it by their own will or not, were ostracised by their small society. It was this fact that made the [Rayne Syndicate] demand of her village so excessively cruel. The group had discovered that a Pal born to a mating across races tended to have rare [Passive Skill]s, and sometimes even hatched as a member of an even more desirable subspecies. The only way to stave of trouble from the group was to pay tribute for their 'protection', and that was bought by the village males joining their ranks, and the village females bearing the eggs of rare Pals for them on occasion. By volunteering to be the one to seek out an uncommon Pal to mate with, Beryl would simultaneously become a hero to her village, and an outcast as well. At the very least, she'd have little to no chance of ever finding a husband after one of those monsters had defiled her.

The sacrifice of her virtue would buy the village a few years, probably; that would be enough to repay her debt to the chieftain for taking her in after her parents died in the [Raid] that put them under the thumb of the [Rayne Syndicate] to begin with. Beryl took a breath and steeled her resolve, adjusting her grip on the [Stone Spear] and fighting to quell her anxiety. What was ahead was a simple matter of duty, something that she would just have to endure for the good of the village. Offering herself up to be bred by a rare Pal, bearing their egg, and delivering it to the [Rayne Syndicate], she had made her peace with that.

But, she had some hope as well.

In the wilds she had encountered a stranger, a man bearing one of those mysterious tablets carried only by the leaders of settlements and higher-ups of the factions. He'd claimed to be the Master of a village outside the influence of the [Rayne Syndicate], an untouchable place defended by his powerful servants. The stranger had questioned her, and been pleased enough with the information that she had provided to reward her with the promise that he would supply a rare Pal to serve as her breeding partner.

It was quite the unexpected boon. Beryl had been at his mercy entirely, fresh from her defeat at the hands of the wild [Lovander] and with no means to resist him at all. Those that lived on the [Palpagos Islands] knew well that the weak had little recourse but to submit to the strong, that went for Humans and Pals both, and she fully expected to be made into his slave. That he had let her go free, and offered a solution to her quandary as well… it went to show just how important information was to this man. That gave her bargaining power, and she'd spent the days since her encounter deciding how best to use it.

Her sense of duty demanded that she provide an egg for the village to repay her lingering obligations to the place that had looked after her. But beyond that, why continue to live there as a miserable outcast reviled for the perversion of surrendering her body to a Pal and birthing an egg? Perhaps if she could prove herself useful, she might entice the stranger to take her in. She'd travelled much of the southern reaches of the [Palpagos Islands] and was confident in her knowledge of the region, and she could count a few roaming merchants and Pal traders amongst her contacts as well, plenty to offer up in exchange for being taken in as a villager.

If that failed, she could always try seducing him.

Beryl paused in her advance along the beach to briefly study her reflection in a still pool of oceanwater. She was quite confident in her looks, fair of skin with emerald eyes, her sunburst orange hair tamed into a ponytail. Her body was well-proportioned and muscular, and she'd enough strength and skill to survive the wilds. But would that be enough to sell herself as a woman? She'd no experience with males – most of the young men of the village had been pressganged into serving the [Rayne Syndicate], after all. And she was about to give her virginity to a Pal. Between her lack of sexual proficiency and the reviled taboo she was about to commit, she couldn't imagine that the stranger would possibly be interested in her.

A pity. The man was powerful, the leader of a settlement that could resist the [Rayne Syndicate], and hardly unpleasant on the eye. He'd dealt with her fairly and shown mercy, when it would have been a simple matter to tap her with a [Pal Sphere] and enslave her. Maybe he was a little haughty and stilted in his speech, but other than that, it was full marks.

She huffed and adjusted her [Pelt Armour] to accentuate her bust, pushing together the mounds of her quite moderate chest. It was there that she'd noticed his gaze linger when she'd shown off her body to him in a ploy to gauge his interest, and she took that as a sign that maybe the idea of seducing him wasn't one entirely without possibility after all. Maybe he would even overlook the truly depraved act of her breeding with a Pal? No, that was just wishful thinking. Everyone knew that such deviants were lower than dirt.

All this plotting did much to assuage her fears for the evening to come, giving her mind something to focus on besides the thought of offering herself up to some savage creature. Beryl allowed herself the idle daydream of being whisked away to live in what was certainly a mighty fortress defended by rare and powerful Pals. Free of her obligations to her village, she would finally be able to pursue her long-put-aside dream of becoming a [Pal Tamer], and in that capacity she would serve the stranger well. He was more powerful than her, and if she were to bind herself to his strength, then it was the rule of the [Palpagos Islands] for her to offer up her everything in turn. And she would – just as she now surrendered the vacancy of her womb for the sake of the village chief she currently served.

Here, you either ruled or you were ruled, and as far as Humans went, carrying a tablet made you a ruler. For Beryl, the only privilege that she was fortunate enough to have was the freedom to decide which ruler she enslaved herself to. If the stranger could offer her a better life than her current chieftain, then she was ready to give herself to him completely. It was as simple as that.

Soon, she would reach the promised meeting place, and Beryl capitalised on her pause to give her pouches one final check. [Cake] was necessary for a tamed Pal to successfully breed, and she had acquired this precious confection from one of her merchant friends. Aside from this, she also carried a bottle of [Suspicious Juice], a mysterious concoction that the village medicine woman encouraged her to quaff before engaging in intercourse with a Pal. It would make things easier, she had said, though offered little elaboration on precisely how. Still, Beryl chose to trust it, stowing away the items carefully and continuing her advance.

What she found at the meeting place had her freeze up in wonder.

Gone was the meagre shack in which she had convalesced five days ago, and in its place was built a multilayered fortress. Protected from view on three sides by dense foliage, a [Wooden Wall] palisade surrounded the area, with a sole opening facing the beach at which a proud [Direhowl] stood in defence. The central citadel boasted a rooftop viewing platform just level with the treetops, where a sharp-eyed [Leezpunk] was at watch, the grounds patrolled by a lethal looking [Eikthyrdeer] sporting a broken antler. None of these Pals were particularly rare, nor really known for their strength, but their assignment spoke highly for their Master.

[Direhowl] for detection and interception, [Leezpunk] for nightvision as the dusk overtook them, [Eikthyrdeer] for rapid response – or perhaps escape. The stranger was as cautious as ever. To have multiple Pals serving here, there was probably a [Pal Box] somewhere inside that citadel as well, and Beryl imagined that if anyone were to dare assault this place it would be used to summon devastating reinforcements. These Pals would lure his enemy into a false sense of security, and then with overwhelming power, he would crush his enemies.

Of course, she had no idea that such reinforcements didn't exist at all, and the whole thing was one enormous bluff. Luke had arrayed here the majority of his battle power, leaving behind only the non-combatant [Cremis], and the trio of [Foxparks], [Tombat], and [Lovander], to keep his main base safe. He'd summoned this fortress into being over the course of the morning, clearing the area and making use of his tablet to create a structure that was as imposing as possible, without breaking the treeline and being too obvious in its location. If anything went wrong, he planned to recall all of his Pals and use the [Pal Box] to warp to safety.

Beryl's optimism had led her to jump to conclusions, her disposition the complete opposite of the extremely pragmatic Luke. He strode from the main building to greet her, alerted by a sharp bark from [Direhowl] that his guest had arrived, “Greetings." He had practiced being a little aloof, creating for himself the persona of what he imagined a powerful tribal leader would be, “You have done well to return."

“Y-yes!" She had managed to retain her composure well at their first meeting, very much resigned to her fate – but now with her position more ambiguous, Beryl couldn't help but stutter. She cursed herself inwardly. It was one thing to have her voice quaver when discussing something so shameful as mating, but quite another to trip over herself in a simple greeting.

Luke pressed on, “I have prepared a rare Pal for you as promised." He brandished a [Pal Sphere], drawing the azure orb from the extradimensional storage space afforded him by the tablet, “There is a room for you inside to make any final preparations. You gave me useful information, and I want it to be made clear to your village that I reward those that serve me."

She nodded. It was clear that this was his game from the start, but good to have it all spelled out unambiguously. Service had won his favour, and further service would grant further reward. That was the message she had to bring back to her village, and tonight would be proof of how reliable he was as a partner for them, “Thank you. I will make sure that the chief understands that you are trustworthy." She bowed her head, “I am in your hands."

Well, that was pretty formal, a far-cry from the candid speech of her first meeting with him. Luke sighed, “Don't be so tense. I'm just repaying a debt. A little respect is fine, but I quite liked the bold woman I met last time." He tried his best at a smile, trying to mix a little charm with his authoritative tone, “This is a taboo for your people, right? Are you sure you want to go through with it?"

Beryl blinked, “It's not a taboo for your people?"

“I don't think there's anything wrong with Humans and Pals mating." Luke shrugged. He'd put a great deal of thought into how to present his stance on this, and in the end chosen to play a very careful gambit. So long as he had something to offer, the islanders would certainly still associate with him, even if they thought he was a deviant. But, so long as he was considered to be a heretical man, none of them would befriend or dare to draw too close to him. His proclivities for the exotic were a perfect shield to keep the Humans at arm's length, “If my subordinates are going to offer up their everything to me, then I'll accept all of it."

“But… it's wrong!"

Luke scoffed, “You believe that? The Pals are clearly sapient. They're my belongings, but I don't force them into anything. Even this – I explained the situation to Mint and asked him if he would like to mate with you, and if he had shaken his head then this wouldn't be happening." The man gave a slight shrug, “Besides, I'm a hedonist at heart. I won't turn my nose up at exotic pleasures. Human or Pal hardly matters to me. If someone becomes mine, then I'll devour all that they have – and in return, I'll take good care of them."

“That's…" Beryl struggled for words, trying to fathom the rejection of a taboo that she'd spent her whole life adhered to. Those that lived like this man were unclean, deviants that should be shunned and avoided, and in the worst cases driven from the village. But, she couldn't pass judgement. Not anymore. It would be shameless to insult someone that was showing her such favour, and she herself was on the cusp of becoming such a deviant as well.

“I understand that you've got your circumstances. It's an important tribute for you to pay for the safety of your village. But, I hope you can go into this with an open mind." Luke felt like he'd gotten a lot better at playing the role of the Master of a settlement lately, proselytising rather freely, “You're a deviant either way. If ever there was a time to just be shameless and see if you could enjoy that, then this is it."

She swallowed, “I'll… consider it."

He nodded in response, and then led her into the citadel, the man looking rather pleased with himself. In truth, Beryl was put at ease as well. He was open about his deviancy, but she didn't feel anything particularly wrong with him – though his argument might have been a little self-serving. If he was going to offer her guidance in the mating to come, as he promised during their walk, then she was in good hands at least. There was no need for her to adopt his worldview, but perhaps, just for tonight, she could indulge him. That might make matters even easier to endure than they would be if she were to down the full bottle of [Suspicious Juice]. Never mind endure, maybe she might even enjoy? No. That was a little too unbelievable.

Beryl was offered a small room to prepare herself with privacy, an [Antique Red Carpet] beneath her feet, [Wooden Chest] for her equipment, and [Shoddy Bed] to relax. The space was lit by a [Mounted Torch], and sported two [Wooden Door]s, the one through which she had entered the chamber, and the second through which she was instructed to advance when she was ready. Half of the [Cake] she had already passed on to Luke for him to give to his Pal, and of the portion remaining for her she only managed a single bite of the confection, nerves stymying her appetite for the sweet treat. That was all that was required, though. Immediately a heat settled in her stomach and her skin flushed, her body made ready to breed.

Her hands shook slightly as she disrobed, slipping free her slender limbs of the [Pelt Armour] and organising her equipment into a neat pile to be sealed away inside the [Wooden Chest]. She wished she had a mirror to give her body a once-over, and in lieu of a reflective surface she ran her hands over her body, slipping her fingers through her hair to tuck any errant strands back into her ponytail. All that remained was the [Suspicious Juice], and the nude Beryl took the bottle in hand, taking one final deep breath, and finally, opening the door to meet her fate…

Luke did his utmost to not wear too lecherous an expression, sublimating his countenance into a neutral half-smile. The islander girl had entered his chamber, having done away with her clothes to bare everything, and he drank in the sight of her. Perhaps a head shorter than him, her fair skin looked a little flushed around the face, features that he'd always thought to be a little too perfect now a lot more human in a blush he couldn't decide was embarrassed or aroused. Her emerald eyes were a little watery, though still bright with the will that had brought the young woman this far, and she strode forward proudly.

Her waist was rather slim, accentuating muscular thighs and a build that made obvious the harsh living conditions of the [Palpagos Islands], it drew attention to an ample bosom as well, breasts each more than a handful peaked with alluring pink. She was not so self-conscious as to conceal her femininity at this point, especially after having once shown herself off before, and Luke had a stark view of sunburst orange hair about her nethers to match that upon her head, stylised in a neat strip. He'd not spotted a razorblade or any such item for crafting on the tablet, so couldn't help but wonder how she'd managed to present herself as so well-groomed. He himself had been using a combination of his [Mega Shield] and [Foxparks]' flames to keep trim.

The room itself was another simple affair, a few [Mounted Torch]s banishing the dark of impending night, a [Fluffy Pal Bed], only recently unlocked as a tablet option, serving as the centrepiece of the space. Atop it reclined Peppermint, the [Alpha Chillet], rendered entirely on his back with the bedding supporting his middlesection for extra comfort, Luke having taken a seat beyond him to provide his Pal with a lap pillow, he stroked the cheek of his excitable companion, brushing away the crumbs of a fully devoured [Cake] half.

Beryl gulped. An [Alpha Chillet] was a rare and powerful creature, their species roaming far to the north of [Rayne Syndicate] territory. He looked so imposing, though a little cute if she was being honest, and entirely docile in the hands of his Master. She'd expected to immediately be presented with some terrifying spire of an erection, but the Ice Dragon offered her nothing but the closed slit of his lower abdomen, which he presented with an amusing jiggle.

“What do I do?"

It was hard work for her to speak the words, and Luke did his best to respond with a more reassuring look. Of course, he was quite looking forward to the show, but he wanted this to be enjoyable for Mint and for Beryl as well. Winning over the islander girl would be quite the coup if he was hoping to get more information out of her about the wider island, after all. His eyes were drawn to the bottle in her hand, “You might want to take a swig of that. Not much, just enough to settle your nerves. Then some and take a seat on his tail – ah, too much!"

Rather than a single swig, the nervous Beryl had quaffed a few hearty gulps, letting out a loud gasp as the potent brew coursed through her. Luke had partaken of it before, finding the emerald green beverage to have a taste and alcoholic sting to it not unlike rum, but the aftermath had been rather potent – even for him with his resistance to [Lovander] pheromones, the aphrodisiac qualities of the concoction had shone through after a time. For Beryl, it was immediate, the bottle that she had fortunately managed to stopper falling from her hand to meet the carpet, her knees knocking together and her lip quivering as she near fell atop Mint's tail, straddling the long fluffy length.

“What's… what's happening?" She near slurred the words, the fire in her core that the [Cake] had lit now exploding into a furnace as the [Suspicious Juice] took effect. Arousal stirred her virgin cunt, a potent need that she had never before experienced demanding that she grind her hips against the fluffy tail beneath her. She left a slight wetness as she did, finding the natural cool of his elemental attributes to be quite to her liking, “I feel… good." But then she blinked, and a little of her senses returned. Cute though he was, there was still a Pal beneath her, and no matter how potent this concoction, it would not change her tastes. She shook her head, coming to her senses, “Now what?"

Luke nearly smirked. A little of that boozy aphrodisiac and she'd almost lost herself already. Was it really so potent? It hadn't felt so bad when he'd indulged. It seemed nonsensical that the effect was immediate to begin with – but considering how the laws of the world inside the mists were so averse to the reality he knew outside of it, perhaps he should have expected the effect of items to be instantaneous. Though, maybe it was for the best that she'd stopped short of going wild. He wanted Beryl to enjoy this of her own accord, not simply because she was under the influence of a drug, “Take your time for now. Mint isn't going anywhere. Just relax and calm down. Deep breaths."

Her breathing slowed, and Luke took his time as well, enjoying the sight of her straddling his Pal. Mint was being quite obedient for him, and he was quite proud of how well the usually hyperactive Ice Dragon was behaving. Maybe a reward would be in order. Later. Right now, he couldn't afford to let his attention drift too far, this was too important, “Okay, that's enough."

“In front of you, that's his slit, and his undertail. Mating either of them is enough to bring Mint to a submissive bitchgasm, but if I had to say, then the slit is more sensitive." Luke gave a lewd commentary, allowing the mood to take him somewhat, “He's got quite the cock. To me, it's nothing but an ornament that lets me know how much he's enjoying being made my whore. I can't decide if I like it best when it's out and painting his muzzle, or when it's trapped in his slit and flooding his boy-pussy."

Mint gave a slight gasp, squirming a little as his Master's words washed over him. The terminology was frightfully similar to that used by [Lovander], and it impressed him how much they seemed to be of one mind on the subject of his submission. Slowly, the terms of this game of mating were starting to sink in; today was going to be more than just a little bit of fun, but another great act of surrender. Mint was only aroused by the thought of his Master, but so great was the power of that man over him, that he didn't doubt for a moment that he was going to be capable of breeding this female. And he was going to like it.

The Human girl straddling him swallowed as his Master continued, “He's quite messy, so you can be pretty sure of conception. When I claimed Mint for myself, the puddle of cum under him was vast enough for it to drip through my [Wooden Ceiling] and into the room below. And that was with a lot of it soaked up into his fur, or gulped down his own muzzle." He looked a little thoughtful, “I figure Pals are pretty sexual creatures when you get down to it. Submission doesn't just mean fighting and working, but mating as well." Well, having a camp overflowing with [Lovander] pheromones might play into that somewhere, but that wouldn't sidetrack Luke.

Beryl fought to overcome her daze, all the while drinking in the words of the man across from her. He painted quite the picture of domination, and it surprised her how much that thought resonated with her. Not that of dominating, but being dominated. This [Alpha Chillet] had been conquered by his Master completely, and the thought of the ruin of this powerful creature brought a tingle to her abdomen, her pussy throbbing with heat against the chill of his tail. How would it feel to be dominated by this man? No. He had no intention of dominating her. Not today. This Pal was the tool he would wield to have her submit. Luke wasn't going to need to lift a finger to have her bow.

She huffed slightly, shaking her head to clear it of the thought. It would take more than a few lewd words and a swig of booze to have her surrender. She reminded herself that this was a beast beneath her, that what she was doing was wrong, that this was a sacrifice that would make her a deviant, an outcast. But, it frustrated her how the thought of this taboo had gained a strange allure to it. Not quite an attraction, not yet, but perhaps an interest.

“Open mind, remember?" As if reading her thoughts he spoke, “Put your hands on either side of his slit. He's already starting to swell it a little, but you're going to have to help him along." She obeyed, pressing her palms to either side of the opening and finding the flesh there to be quite pliable. The lighter fur of [Alpha Chillet]'s underside came right up to the line of his slit, the opening bulging slightly outwards to reveal a slight hint of pink within, “Use your thumbs to part it, nice and easy, just to let the tip out."

She did so without question, and the tapered head of the first cock Beryl had ever seen slipped out before her. Her eyes widened, and she was mesmerised by the sight, her pulse quickening as the reality of what lay before her slowly began to dawn. Mint twitched his haunches upwards, the ripple of his body justling his tail and invoking a gasp of pleasure as the furred length pressed against her cunt. Already she had produced enough femslick to have rendered the fur she was riding a little sodden, and knowledge of that fact deepened the blush about her cheeks. Luke had noticed. Of course he had. He was already surveying her body as if he owned her, as if her transition into being one of his possessions was inevitable.

Beryl opened her mouth to voice something scathing about how he shouldn't get ahead of himself, but another ripple of Mint's body turned her chiding into a small moan of pleasure. After that, she thought it for the best that she not try to speak again for a while. Luke was still supporting the head of his Pal, smiling down in amusement at the slightly glazed expression that the Ice Dragon was wearing. Arousal had taken root, not for the girl fondling him, but for the proximity of his Master and the knowledge that his being made sport of was enjoyable to him.

Just as Beryl imagined that Luke was using the Pal to dominate her, Mint thought of the girl as a tool that his Master was using to bring him pleasure. Submission was what allowed each of them to overlook their typical preferences, though this was a thought too esoteric for the simple [Alpha Chillet], and one that Beryl was too excited by the moment to consider. Little by little the spire of Mint's cock was growing, pouring out of his slit, inch by inch. The maleness looked more aquatic than draconic, the surface featureless pink, jutting upwards to a tapered tip crowned with a droplet of clear precum. The taper may be gentle, but the Ice Dragon cock was as long and thick as a Human forearm, a monster that brought some sense back to Beryl, “That- that will never fit!"

“No, it probably won't. A virgin like you wouldn't be able to handle a brutal womb-fucking, but Mint is too tepid to give you one anyway. I'm sure with enough practice, though…" Luke let the thought linger, knowing that it would put her imagination to work, “For now, I want you to get familiar with this. That's the cock that's going to knock you up. He's going to pour his [Ice/Dragon Type] cum into you and you're going to force out an egg for him. And I think you're going to like it."

That was provocation enough to have Beryl affix the man with a defiant glare, “I won't!" She demanded, “This is… just something that I have to do. I'm not enjoying this!"

The blush of her cheeks, mistiness of her expression, and the wetness of the cunt she was grinding against Mint's tail without even realising it seemed to say otherwise, but that was hardly a truth that Luke was going to press right now. He took a moment to ponder that. It didn't quite seem reasonable that she'd become so aroused by the prospect of mating with a Pal so easily, even with the [Suspicious Juice] helping things along – but something was spurring her on, some instinct that he didn't understand. Well, that was another thing for him to think about when he had more time for it.

He continued, “Touch it. Get used to the feel, the weight of it. Watch how he reacts to your hands on him, learn what he likes. If you make it good for him, he'll make it good for you." Beryl swallowed her ire and did as she was bidden, following his orders as if it were the most natural thing in the world. In her world, it was. His position of power gave him the right to command her, and she found herself wanting to obey. Her hands found his cock, smooth, a little rubbery in texture, and chill to the touch, and with the lightest touch she slowly traced the length.

Mint gave a joyful exhalation, and the girl couldn't help but give a slight smile in response – one that she quickly sublimated after Luke smirked in overwhelming smugness. [Alpha Chillet] was quite a cute creature, after all, and however imposing the cock in her hands was, that was an undeniable fact. She stiffened her grip, careful not to be too forceful, and took her time just as she was instructed, familiarising herself with this turgid masculinity. Precum leaked from the tip, flowing over the length in a small stream just as copious as Luke had described, and she found the fluid suitable lubricant to slicken her motions.

His body jolted again beneath her, and again she felt the wonderful press of his wet tail beneath her, the fur against her pussy now quite inundated with her own femslick. She shifted her body, grinding against him, and as if it were a game, he reciprocated by passing a ripple along his tail for her to enjoy. Like two fumbling virgins, they found their clumsy rhythm, and for a time everything else dropped away, all but the slow stroking of that monster cock and the undulating press of his tail against her needy cunt.

Beryl had never cum before. The explorations of her own body had never been too important to her when she'd matters of survival to attend to in the harsh [Palpagos Islands], and so she had no hope of restraining her voice when her climax thundered through her. Her legs seized around the tail beneath her, her hips lowering as she forcibly ground her cunt against his sodden fur, her moderate breasts swaying wildly as orgasm drove her into a gushing orgasm. Mint, encouraged by the whispering of depravity in his ear from his Master, joined her in climax, his cock showering her with vulgar ropes of thick and creamy draconic seed.

It was hard for Luke to not intervene, the man gifted with such a view as this. [Alpha Chillet] was particularly copious in his load, and this first cumshot of the evening had made an absolute mess of the girl straddling his tail, accumulating in her hair and dripping down to her chest to give her skin and alluring glisten. He swallowed hard, steeling himself. He may have thought about claiming the islander girl for his own, but that would surely be a mistake. Knocking her up would mean he was bound to the [Palpagos Islands] for good. His Pals would serve as proxy for him, that is what he had decided.

The young woman collapsed over him, chest heaving as she buried her face into his fur, their leaking cock sandwiched between her breasts as she layered herself over the deep-breathing Pal. That was an orgasm? No wonder [Lovander] were so rapacious. The feeling of satisfaction had washed over her from her absolute extremities right to her heated core, her virginal cunt gushing with femcum as he body spasmed in raw ecstasy. And it was a feeling that had been provided by this Pal, the creature whom coupling with made her a deviant. She looked up, and he met her eyes, giving a happy sounding trill of acknowledgement. And then his cock throbbed beneath her.

“Looks like you both enjoyed that." The Pal's Master, the architect of it all, the one to whom their submission made this possible, he spoke and they listened, “A Human can only manage a few loads… normally." Luke couldn't really call himself 'normal' anymore, but still didn't know if he should be blaming Vanilla or the tablet, “But a Pal can keep fucking until they faint, and if you're going to mate with my Mint, then you're going to indulge him until he's cum himself dry."

She nodded, fighting off the exhaustion of her climax to lean back, “U-… understood." Her instincts told her to submit, the law of the [Palpagos Islands] imposed itself over her mind. You were a ruler, or ruled, a Master or a Slave. This man carried a tablet, his place was one of domination. And hers was of submission. To surrender, to bow, to yield, that was the natural order, expected of her as a denizen of the land within the mists. Whatever her thoughts on the matter, all that she could do now that this reality had set in was obey.

As for her thoughts regarding deviancy… she'd keep an open mind about that for now at least.

“Lick." He didn't need to say what. Beryl lowered herself to the messy cock before her and dragged her tongue from base to tip, gathering up some of the creamy essence that [Alpha Chillet] had been so obliging in producing. Luke would have said that it had a taste reminiscent of peppermint, along with the male musk that was intrinsic to these fluids, but Beryl had no such thing to compare to. For her, it was the flavour of her own submission, a taste upon her tongue that made her pussy throb in anticipation for something that it had never known before. There was a slight chill to their cum, but as it settled in her stomach it did absolutely nothing to quell the heat of her core. Her body was ready to breed, compelled by the rules of the system to which all life on the [Palpagos Islands] adhered.

Hungrily, she took another long drag of that wonderful cock, again and again until it was cleaned of the clinging seed, and in search of more she found herself placing her mouth about the tip of that tapered length, suckling softly while her hands instinctively pumped. Luke had nothing to say to her, his words now for his squirming submissive male, “Good job." He crooned, “Tonight you're going to empty yourself out inside that needy Human womb. Knock her up for Master. Do me proud, and I'll pump your pussy full of cum as well…"

[Alpha Chillet] squirmed impotently. He had the power of course to buck himself free, but he was fixed in place not by the weight of the Human girl above him, but by the will of his Master, and that was as powerful as an iron chain. His Master was dominating him with the toy that was this islander, her clumsy motions against his cock inspired by his command and the torment of that burgeoning pleasure was forced upon him by the will of the one that owned him. His undertail twitched in need, as desperate for the cock of his Master as Beryl's pussy was for the breeding that Mint was sure to give it.

Of all of the Pals in Luke's possession, Mint was probably the easiest to bring to orgasm. Beryl choked on a great wave of cum, her cheeks swelling before a cough forced most of the mess of cum back over [Alpha Chillet]'s belly, some streaming from her nose as the remainder of his orgasm showered her face. Luke tried not to smirk, “The seed of a submissive male is for the floor, or your muzzle. But I suppose it's not so bad painting this slut either."

This time it was quite a while before Beryl had calmed down enough to find her senses, dazed by the male seed that had inundated her sense of taste and smell. When she did find herself again, she blushed furiously, sweeping the mess from her face with her hands and looked away, appearing to be thoroughly ashamed of herself. She ground her teeth together. After rejecting the idea of mating with a Pal as deviancy – having surrendered to the orders of this man or not, the vigour with which she had thrown herself at Mint's cock was entirely of her own volition, and she scowled for the fact of it.

Luke didn't feel any need to press the issue, and he waited for her to catch her breath obligingly. Her cunt still ached with want, and she struggled to find the words to express that need in a way that wouldn't result in him thinking of her as a shameless whore. Wait a minute. Hadn't he just called her a slut? She opened her mouth to refute him, but a ripple of the tail beneath her stole her words just like last time as [Alpha Chillet] covered for his Master. She shot him an unamused look, but he only beamed in return, as if he were having the time of his life. It was hard to be angry at that. Instead, she chose another tack, “Are we going to… mate now?"

Difficult words for her to squeeze out indeed, and Luke responded with a slight shrug, “I had a little more in mind, but I don't think you've got the stamina for it. Maybe next time?" He smirked. Of course, there would be a next time. He was sure of that, “Yes, you're going to mate now. He's going to breed you, Beryl. My [Alpha Chillet] is going to pump your virgin pussy full of Pal cum, and you're going to birth him an egg." He reaffirmed that fact, “I want you to ask him first."

“What!?"

“Ask him." Luke repeated, “Nicely. It's a little bit too late for shame now, isn't it? You've cum once from riding his tail, and got so into sucking his cock that you didn't even notice your second orgasm. Look at that mess you've made of his fur." Her legs squeezed down, and her eyes widened as she noticed the truth, “I'm not going to tell you how to think about all of this deviancy stuff. But I'll have you to admit that you like this, at least. You want my Pal to fuck you pregnant. Not because of your obligations, but because you're enjoying yourself."

“You-!" She scowled, right at the start of a deadly insult that she couldn't find the rest of – not because of Mint's tail, but because she knew he was right. Beryl was shocked into a frightful logic. She may have been submitting to this Human, dominated by him through the implement of his Pal, but she couldn't deny that she liked the tool he was using. She didn't think that she would invite just any Pal on her back herself, but… Her gaze met his. If this man was commanding the Pal, yes, she probably would let just about any one of them fuck her. And she would like it. As much as she was liking this. What astounded her was that he didn't look like he understood that. Both she and Mint were in a position of submission, each of them a proxy for their Master in coitus. He seemed to be under the illusion that her submission was to [Alpha Chillet].

She took a breath. No. If she admitted that fact, that she had bowed to him, then his control over her would be complete. She might even get so caught up in the flow of things that she offer herself to be enslaved by a [Pal Sphere]. It terrified her that the thought of that made her womb throb with desire. No. Not yet. She still hadn't made up her mind about this man, and whatever her instincts demanded of her, Human logic said it was a bad idea to become a Slave to a person that she had met twice. Beryl had toyed with the idea of becoming a villager under his control, but she wasn't fool enough to leap without looking. She would need to make it look like she was submitting to [Alpha Chillet] lest she get carried away and spill everything. And she would need to be convincing.

“I…!" How could she phrase it? There was only one way, and she threw away her pride completely to achieve it, “I want your Pal to fuck me pregnant. I'm a deviant slut that wants my whore womb pumped full of [Alpha Chillet] cum, so I can be a good girl and push out an egg for him." She turned her gaze to the slightly confused looking frost noodle, “I need you to… fuck me broken. I need you to mate me, please. I'm your cumdump Human toy. So… please… let me make you feel good."

She burned with shame, to the extent that she thought she might burst into tears if Mint gave her away with his completely lost expression. But, the Pal was obliging, and the vein of thinking that she was caught up in too alien for the outsider Luke to catch onto. He had no idea that she'd been a hairs breadth away from surrendering everything, her village, the tribute, her dreams for the future, to do nothing but surrender and become his willing Slave, driven by the instincts of all those that lived on the [Palpagos Islands].

Beryl had quelled her submission. She winced. No. She had deferred it. Becoming this man's Slave almost felt inevitable.

“Well said." Luke spoke, mercifully, “Now it's my turn to help out. I don't want you to hurt yourself by getting fucked in half by a cock you can't handle. Yet." He grinned, slowly laying down Mint's head and walking over to his other side to take a seat on his tail behind Beryl, the mess of his fur soaking into the thighs of his own [Pelt Armour]. [Alpha Chillet] was around three times the height of Luke in length, and he'd plenty of space on the tail – especially when he trust Beryl forwards to straddle the smooth cock beneath her.

With one arm about her midriff he supported her weight, “Up. I need you to use your legs, too." And she rose obligingly, her hands still covering her face as the man behind her crudely split the lips of her sodden cunt and sank two of his fingers into her sloppy depths. Her moans were immediate as she collapsed against him, and after only a few wild bucks she cried out in her third orgasm, “You really are just as messy as he is…"

“I'm… sorry!"

“Don't apologise. I like that. You'll need to be wet to handle big Pals after all." She'd gone partially limp again, but not so much that he couldn't leverage her body above the tapered tip of that draconic cock, his free hand pointing the length skyward. He let her linger there, her folds scarcely parted, and Luke made his own assessment. The people of the [Palpagos Islands] had enough of a natural regeneration to recover from a rather severe beating in just one night of rest – and he'd used his tablet to watch Beryl's [HP] rise when caring for her that time. The people here were made of sturdy stuff, and while it would be ludicrous to expect her to take it to the hilt, he imagined that she'd manage at least half of it. Provided that he was careful.

“Nice and easy…" The embrace of his arm around her abdomen tightened to defeat any spasm, the fingers guiding Mint's cock rising higher to ensure the press of the tip against her parting folds, “My Pal is going to make you a woman, now…"

She cried out, not a scream of pain, but a lascivious moan that even to Beryl was unrecognisable. It was a lewd vocalisation of her submission, her complete surrender to Pal cock, her reverence to the Master that wielded it, all together in a wordless wail. Every inch was sheer pleasure, the pain of the oversized stretch the only thing that allowed her to retain her conscious mind and not white out into the bliss of penetration. Her climax was an undulating ruin that melted the cock that was claiming her, sheer heat against the chill that Mint was asserting over her as he felt his first pussy clamp down in reciprocation. Maybe it wouldn't be his last? If it was an expression of submission to his Master, then he would do anything.

Lower, until she was as deeply penetrated as would be reasonable for a Human, his tapered tip pressing against her innermost depths, a gate that should never be beaten against in a virginal fuck. But the Ice Dragon instinctually bucked his hips upwards, and even that sanctity was desecrated. It looked like she was going to get a 'brutal womb-fuck' after all. The binding command of his Master may well have locked him in place, but there was no resisting the involuntary motion of an inexperienced male bucking upwards into the velvet pleasure of his first cunt. All that Beryl could do was hold on. Or rather, all Luke could do was hold on, as the girl surrendered her weight to him entirely, her body limp in a momentary loss of consciousness driven by the thrust of that enormous Pal cock straight into her womb.

Luke grit his teeth, too prideful to acknowledge that he had lost control of the situation, he decided to simply go with the flow as if this had all been as planned. His hand was pressed against her abdomen, pale flesh lewdly bulging against his palm with each thrust as the undulating body of [Alpha Chillet] made a wave motion beneath them, rocking her smaller form against him with each thrust. His freed up off-hand had seized the base of that smooth draconic cock, leveraging the angle and preventing Beryl from being hilted completely by the stopper of his fist, his fingers already slippery with the mess of femcum she had streamed out over him in wet climaxes stirred up by the constant leak of Mint's precum.

Beryl gasped, dragging air into her lungs as she awoke from her fainting spell to find her insides gouged by the deeply embedded Pal cock. She couldn't find her voice, not even to moan, the girl able only to collapse herself into the arms of the man behind her as he guided the mating. The sensation was ruinous, her virgin cunt stretched wide, her womb plundered with the ring of her cervix speared at the end of a cock far too enormous for any Human. Or rather, any Human from the world outside the mists.

Islanders were made of stern stuff, of that Luke was sure, but this was beyond even his wildest expectations. Her abdomen bulged lewdly against his palm as he guided the rut, riding the flowing wave of his subordinate Pal, “That's it, Mint – keep it up." He encouraged, “Show your breeding bitch who her womb belongs to."

You. Beryl thought. It belongs to you. She might have admitted that to the wrong person if she'd had access to her voice, but even that thought was defeated when a particularly wild buck was enough to dislodge Luke's hand at the base of [Alpha Chillet]'s cock, and the entire length drilled into her.

Her body spasmed, limbs flailing, her insides stretched beyond any reasonable capacity yet refusing to give as her cunt met his slit and his draconic length dominated her ruined womb. A voice drifted into her head, bringing together the fragments of consciousness in her pleasure-addled mind into a coherent thought: This is what you are for. Breeding stock for Master's Pals. A womb-slave whose rightful place is to serve.

She thrust herself back against the man, grinding her cunt against Mint's slit while surrendering herself further to the Human behind her, and she found a smile upon her face when his thumb found her clit and his freed-up hand grasped at her breasts. Yes. These things belonged to him, so it was only right that he had his fun. That he reached for her at all meant that he desired her, and that was a fact that had the heat in her core expand into another gushing orgasm.

The chill to come was even grander. Her orgasm had milked climax from Mint, and he creamed her cunt with an abundance of thick draconic essence, the tight seal of her stretch and the cling of her cervix about his cock leaving his seed with nowhere to go but her absolute depths. Her womb swelled, and her belly along with it, until the bulge of the cock decimating her insides had advanced to the look of pregnancy. Because it was pregnancy. The [Cake] guaranteed it, and the sublimation of her inner heat confirmed it, the deluge of his cum had knocked her up.

Still, no words came, the sheer mass inside of her feeling like it was fucking the air out of her lungs. Beryl dared for a moment to believe that it was over, that her limp and exhausted body would be allowed to rest. But she was naïve. She wasn't done until Mint was satisfied, and Luke would not relent until his Pal had completely emptied his cock.

The wave motion of [Alpha Chillet]'s body resumed without warning, the upward buck that dragged at the seal of her cunt scattering a mess of cum over the fur of his abdomen. With every bounce she was leaking, the world a white fever-dream of desperate gasps for air and the lewd shlicking of her Pal-defiled pussy. Her breasts were being fondled aggressively, each peak worked to stiffness and toyed with, a thumb at her clit working at it feverishly, demanding pleasure of her body.

To Beryl, a thought took root in her mind, the sensation that she was being used by him as nothing more than a toy to satisfy his Pal. Every orgasm that she had forced a rippling grasp along her overworked cunt and milked the cock that she had surrendered to, her innermost depths spasming in desperate pleasure as his cold seed sloshed around an overfilled womb. Another climax took the Pal beneath her, and this time her pussy had been worked loose enough for her belly to distend no further, the entire mess of his seed backwashing immediately into the fur of his abdomen.

She fainted again, her head lolling back, and she awoke to find herself still impaled on that Ice Dragon cock, her insides aching from the bludgeoning womb-fuck to which she had been subjected. Her throat was hoarse, but [Alpha Chillet] was spent, his breaths as well coming in feeble gasps, his final cumshot a mere trickle in her core.

Luke issued his command, “Look down." She could scarcely focus enough to do even that, and the sight that she was greeted with was entirely alien. A stomach that was once so toned was now bulging, the shape distorted by the cock lodged into her core and buoyed by the raw abundance of seed sealed by the enormity of the shaft parting her ruined cunt. Luke hooked his arms beneath her knees, and with a grunt of effort he rose, dragging her along with him, inch by inch up from the Pal cock that felt like it was dragging her insides out with it.

She screamed out, unable to discern if what she was feeling was agony or ecstasy, bliss or despair, and as Mint's cock fell free to slap down against the wet mess of his abdomen, from a cunt that the man carrying her splayed with two fingers, a waterfall of Pal cum cascaded out. The native regeneration of her [HP] would not allow her body to remain bloated, and as tick by tick, she was forced to recover, the tightening of her healing insides forced out the mess of creamy essence inside of her, leaving behind the ache of memory and a soul-deep satisfaction. Perhaps - thought she still was not quite able to say it out loud - being a deviant wasn't such a bad thing after all.

This time when she passed out, she wouldn't wake up again until the morning. She would have to, because the egg required only the night to gestate within her, the majority of its incubation period to be served out in the world. Before, she would have covered her face with shame when forcing out a Pal egg, but before the watchful eyes of the man that had commanded his [Alpha Chillet] breed it into her, Beryl instead spread her legs wide and passed it at his viewing pleasure.

She did however, do her best to disguise the fact that the birthing process made her cum almost as hard as Mint's cock did…

~ SevenWingedDragon ~

Note: Whew. Sometimes a story just pours out of you - and today I ended up reaming out this whole thing in one sitting and I am pooped. So much for a quick half-chapter, it ended up pretty full sized! I really hope that you guys enjoy this counterpart to the previous Chillet piece. This didn't quite turn out the way I envisioned it when I first started; I wanted to include some hints for future f/f, and originally intended for Lovander to play a part, but it all ended up falling by the wayside when I fell into the flow. There is plenty of space in future entries, but I do want to apologise for that to anyone that was hoping for it earlier on. Though, that leads me to my important question for you all: Do you want Beryl to join the camp? Do you want to see her again at all? Whether she becomes one of Luke's subordinates, or remains with her village is for the comments to decide! I'll make my choice based on your input.

As usual, thanks for every fave, vote, folder sub (finally broke 50!), watch (finally broke 500!), comment, PM, and every last view. Thanks to EWEW for the encouragement and sparking some interesting ideas for Anubis! Cheers to Cyril Dran for the consistent support, and the absolutely top-tier name for Anubis as well! Many thanks to OddReptile who really gave me some food for thought on the personality of the doggo to come. And thanks to NoNoNope for reminding me about Pal Spheres working on Humans - because Beryl ending up in one of those is an option!

Next up is Anubis Male, and thanks to all of your input on the previous piece I'm racing towards it. If things go to plan, then it will probably be slightly NC, at least for the first half - with our protector of the desert region at the mercy of the Rayne Syndicate and their marauding Pals. Which leads me to a question: Which Pals do they send out to take their 'revenge' against Anubis? As always, I'm counting on your input!

Have a most excellent day.