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The smell of anise and cinnamon incense hung heavy in the air; Cass suffocated on it, head spinning with the wine that scaled courtesan had fed him. It had been spiked with something—not poison, just… his limbs felt so heavy he could barely move, head too clouded with fog to do more than lay in the four poster bed and watch the ceiling overhead spin, shadows tossing back and forth as the candles in the room danced to the breeze coming in through the open sliding paper door to his left.

Elsewhere on the pleasure barge he heard the sounds of laughter and ecstasy in equal measure. Someone wailing, which conjured in the helpless, bedbound otter the image of some courtesan being brutally stabbed by something other than, well…

“Good, you’ve not gone anywhere,” said from the open door to the deck. With a great deal of effort, Cass turned his head to see the courtesan who dragged him here after drugging him. A sleek, pearlescent lizard whose scales were so pale they almost took on a pink color as orange candlelight danced off her. When brought here, she’d worn little more than a corset, though she had no bust on her slender body, and garters for her thighs and tail. Now she was nude.

“I hope you don’t mind me getting out of my party clothes. I work better naked.”

“W-who…”

“Relax, prince,” the courtesan cooed as she climbed into the bed. “I’m not going to hurt you—I’m here for this.”

Delicate, slim fingers wrapped around his turgid length throbbing against his belly. Cass groaned at the touch, suddenly finding the strength to buck his hips into the courtesan’s touch. Her crimson eyes flicked from Cass’s blues back to the equally red length that matched the rest of his body: full of tension yet relaxed. As if he might be sleeping—

He huffed.

“You get it now, don’t you? They told us what you like, how you want…” those deft, finely scaled fingers stroked up and down his length, “your seed taken from you. So valuable—told your whole life you need to be careful what garden you spoil.”

The courtesan straddled Cass’s waist. It only became clear then how much smaller the lizard was: almost half the otter’s size. Cass wished to reach up and grab his partner, but his arms barely shifted. Still, the cool scales on his fur only excited his need. Cinnamon and anise becoming drowned out by pent up otter and the smell of… the courtesan, a sweet musk tingling in his nostrils as she leaned down, back arched, smooth-scaled belly pushing down into his cock, smearing precum on her now glistening, pearl hide.

The courtesan had to scoot higher just to peck Cass on the snout. She sighed and said, “Gods you are so warm. I love working with hot blooded mammals.”

Pushing against the conical tip of Cass’s cock: something wet, parting at a touch. A mouth kissing him. Cass rolled his hips only for the courtesan to gasp. “Mmph, so eager, hehehe.” The way she giggled while she ground her hips into his, rubbed his shaft against those soft fine scales—Cass wouldn’t even try to resist her at this point, his vow of chastity forgotten. She sat up, leaning backwards, palms sliding down her glossy tummy to her cunt. “This is what you need, hmm?” With two fingers from each hand, she spread her lips for him. “This is what you want, yeah?”

Fuck why did he want it so bad? He could have her beheaded at a word, but being at this creature’s mercy made Cass so hot he couldn’t think of anything but to beg: “P-please.”

“Awww, that’s sweet, you don’t need to ask though, my lord. I need you inside me, too.”

She lifted herself onto her knees, hands shifting, one keeping her lips spread for him. Her inner pink drooled translucent fluids all over his shaft as her other hand lined his dick up. The courtesan held his throbbing shaft there a moment, eyes locked with Cass’s. The prince thought perhaps she might want him to ask again—a mad thing to force upon a Prince of the Endless Waters—but then she dropped down.

Tight, cloying walls wrapped around his shaft as both groaned in tandem. The small courtesan rolling her hips and grinding down, nether lips kissing his sheath, knot still inside it. She planted a palm on his sternum, leaning back down to whisper, “You’re so hot inside me.” Her inner walls squeezed around his dick, making it pulse and jump. “Eager to seed me, aren’t you? To breed little bastards? What would your parents think, hmm?” She giggled and started rocking back and forth. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell them what you did.”

“I… I can’t…”

“Shh-shh, it’s just play, my lord,” the courtesan said as she worked his dick up and down her folds. Cass felt himself bump into something firming up in her. The courtesan moaned when this happened, and gyrated in slow, short motions to rock Cass’s tip into that firmness. It pulsed and started to swell.

“Gods…” she breathed as Cass’s length began to compete with this growing hardness for space inside the slit. The incredible, pulsating heat and tightness made it difficult for her to move. She tilted her head back and moaned, lower half quivering. Her walls were a vice on Cass’s length, filled out now with the heat and wet of Cass’s shaft and this… throbbing firmness. Perhaps if his head had been clearer he might have put it together, but as it was, all he could think about was how heavy his blood pounded in his body, the heady musk of sex, the grinding pressure up and down his shaft and—

He might have screamed if able when her dextrous tail slid around his sheath, squeezing under his knot. A python strangling its prey, the tail’s tight grip on his knot simulated the crushing tie that Cass needed in order to be thrown over the edge. He whimpered, weak and helpless as she stole his seed from him. His cock twitched and pumped inside that tight little hole, filling it with more liquid heat and making the courtesan moan again. Her eyes fluttered as she seemed entirely absorbed in the sensation of him cumming. Slowly, careful to keep him inside her, she began dismounting him as he continued to spurt, her hips trembling a little. It was only when just the pointed tip remained inside those tight clasping lips, drooling the last dregs of his orgasm, that she released the grip on his knot.

Suddenly she had moved up his body. Now straddling his face. A hand guided his mouth to her snatch, where the overwhelming smell of cum almost made him dizzy. “Now clean up your mess, little prince,” the courtesan whispered as she pinched his jaw open. Dumb and numb, maw agape while she stopped clenching her cervical floor, the tightness in her sex loosening and letting spill a slurry of his seed into Cass’s mouth.

He coughed, tried to protest, but she quickly sat on his face, that grip on his jaw still surprisingly strong. The end of her tail wrapped around his dick as she did this, keeping him hard while she dumped all his seed back into his maw. Cass shuddered, groaned, choked. The strong, pungent, creamy salt was something he secretly knew well. But he never imagined someone feeding it to him before tonight, but it was not unpleasant… and the moral depravity of it… of being a prince brought this low.

Some strength must have returned to his body—when had he grabbed her hips? She laughed as he did, his tongue lapping up the globs of semen still inside her slit. Tongue working till he felt something slender and hard pressing into his tastebuds.

“Don’t be alarmed, my lord,” she cooed, as this firm length began to push out her cunny and into his lips. “That’s it,” she encouraged as he licked her exposed tip, more of it filling his maw. His tongue almost a perfect landing for it, he the waves lapping at her bobbing canoe—when had she started rocking her hips? When had her hand moved to the back of his head?

Her tail continued to clench and unclench its smooth scales around his meat as she humped his face. This new length… her cock? Was… had the courtesan been male this whole time? He tried to remember their name, but couldn’t, too drugged by whatever they put in his wine, too hypnotized by rhythmic in-out sawing of her hips, every gentle bump of her pubis to his nose resonating with a satisfying throb from the cock in his mouth. To be brought so low yet be this lost in pleasure. His palate coated in the taste of cum, he only noticed the flavor of their essence as the courtesan’s pre slowly filled his mouth to the point he needed to swallow it. Salty and a little metallic, closer to the taste of blood than Cass would have guessed. He liked it—there was an alluring spice to it that danced across his tastebuds as the smooth, cherry-blossom-pink shaft pumped in and out of his lips.

“You’re a natural, my lord,” the courtesan said as they picked up their pace. Their dick now stabbed all the way to his uvula. He gagged once, but the drugging made his body too languid to resist the invader plundering his throat now. He simply moaned as their waist began to grind into his snout on every thrust. The courtesan picked up the coiling of their tail in time with the rocking of their body, sending signals of pleasure through the confused prince every time cock—it had to be a cock, surely—bucked inside his body, used him for its own pleasure.

The courtesan jammed their cock deep, and Cass gagged again, eyes filling with tears as he was held snout to slit. The courtesan purred, “That’s it, my lord, relish in the act of service. Hehe, you feel harder than you did when you were inside me. Do you really love this so much? Being the plaything to a lowly lizard?”

Cass could only answer with a weak-willed whimper.

“Don’t worry, dear, I won’t tell anyone. I’m sure you won’t either,” the courtesan said, abdomen clenching so their dick might flex inside his maw, tip grinding against the roof of his mouth. “Come on, suck, little prince. Show me what your mouth is really good for.”

Leaking all over the eggshell scales wrapped around his shaft, Cass wanted nothing more than to do as he was told. Rather than be a vacant vessel for the courtesan to use, he began to suckle, a babe nursing more of that exotic precum into his maw. It seemed the more of the stuff he swallowed, the hotter and harder he became. The courtesan began to pump their hips again, Cass slurping on the slender, tapered cock as it slipped around his mouth. His tongue undulated underneath it, sucking hard as he could.

“Th-that’s a good boy,” the courtesan said as they picked up the pace of their hips, the coiling of their tail becoming ragged, half-forgotten. Cass could care less, entirely focused on what passed between his lips, what pumped him full of more nectar, till those tiny hands grabbed the back of his head and yanked him into the courtesan’s waist again.

Cass didn’t even realize the courtesan was close until runny globs of seed began filling his mouth with their watery spurts. It was not nearly as thick as his essence, much easier to swallow rope after sticky rope of the stuff. His tongue blazed with a strange heat and spice while the courtesan huffed and panted over him. “Sh-should just keep you here,” the courtesan snarled, “Fuck… you’d make such a great cock warmer at the end of every night.” Their tail started working over Cass’s shaft again, and the fresh motion set them off.

Something about the courtesan’s ejaculation filled his body with more numbing heat, almost like an intoxicating venom that left him paralyzed and raging with lust. The paralysis not enough to stop his tail-tied tool from jetting more fresh cum all over those beautiful eggshell scales and his sleek blue-grey belly. His balls jumped and fired again and again, each pendulous pump from the royal purse knocking more of his senses from him until Cass laid empty headed, eyes locked with the shining red of the courtesan, who leered down at him.

He didn’t even notice their shaft retreating back into its slit until the last few sticky trails of seed oozed from their urethra. They stroked his cheek, leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Sleep, prince, and wake in the morning refreshed, honor returned, and a new longing seeded in you, one that only the scaled courtesan Veydah can sate.”

“Mmmph, you…” he never felt a command weigh so heavily on him in his life. Darkness overtook his vision from one breath to the next.

***

Veydah sat up and brushed the cheek of the sleeping otter beneath them. They smoothed out his whiskers, cleaned the royal body of any evidence of spent seed. They laid beside the sleeping prince a moment longer, finger trailing through the sleek silver-blue coat of the third-in-line to the throne. The River’s Wisdom, Prince Cassius Hanark, in his mid-twenties and without a wife, for the first fiancée had fallen ill while pregnant and died, probably to some poison, and left the scholar prince in grieving. If any of the prince’s guards knew what Veydah had done, they would kill the courtesan on the spot, but a pleasure barge offered ample distractions, and a third-born prince was just disposable enough to not leave under guard at all times.

Sheepishly, Veydah kissed the sleeping otter’s whiskered cheek and said, “I am sorry for this,” before rolling out of bed.

They walked out onto the deck, the wide silt-yellow river of the Topaz Dragon, one of the three great rivers of their empire, greeting her. Towering over the pleasure barge was Cassius’s own ship, which he would return to in the morning, uncertain about the emptiness eating away inside of him, or why he craved the company of the courtesan who poured him drinks, played the mandolin, and sang by his side all night.

“Something about her song…” the prince might say the next day. Veydah would haunt his dreams until they met again, ensuring another encounter.

Veydah stretched, then sauntered around the deck to find Garlin already packing a pipe with a dried, crumbly kelp called banded sea barley.

“It’s done,” Veydah said as they sat down beside him on the prow, careful to keep their tail from getting too close to the water this late at night. Garlin was an old otter who had run a pleasure barge for two peaceful decades before he got it in his head that he needed to upend that peace in favor of participating in a royal conspiracy.

Veydah didn’t know the details of it, only what was asked of them: to drug a prince with an addictive substance their body could produce when given a very particular diet. It made the victim a pliant puppet, with limbs too weak to resist, lusts too inflamed to want to, and a mind too cloudy to remember anything but what suggestions Veydah left for him.

“Good job, son, papa’s proud of you,” Garlin said.

Veydah frowned, “I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“What do you mean? All my courtesans are my children,” Garlin patted the boat, “We are a family—”

“Of debt slaves,” Veydah mumbled.

“Careful with that tongue, a crueler master would have cut it out already.”

“Mmm, too bad you can’t afford to cut out mine.”

Garlin took a hit of his pipe, blew up some smoke, seeming as sanguine as ever. “You are very bold tonight.”

“Way I see it, you need me.”

Garlin studied the lizard. Their nudity a sharp contrast to the flowing robes worn by the otter. “Hmmm, and what is it you wish to bargain for? I am already offering your freedom and then some.”

“To start, I want my own room, and I don’t want to clean the ship.”

“Tsk, then what will you do with your idle hands, hmm?”

“Practice my playing, like you taught me to.”

“Heh, you are more fond of making that mandolin sing than your customers.”

“It’s the one instrument that makes me happy to play.”

“Psh, very well, Veydah. No more scrubbing decks in the morning, but you will not sleep in. I expect to see you out here plucking away for everyone to enjoy.”

“And when this is done and I’ve earned my freedom, I get to keep it. The mandolin, I mean.”

“And here I thought three months pay and your freedom would be enough—”

“I need something I can ply a trade with.”

“Oh, I think you have plenty of skills for that, my boy.”

Verydah ignored the jibe and offered their hand.

Garlin stared at it, then gingerly, as if he touched something dirty, the old otter shook the small, slender hand.

“Will you tell me what it is you plan to do with the prince?”

“Oh, nothing you need to worry about. Just do as you're told, and when we are finished, you will have your freedom.”

Veydah glared at Garlin, but the wizened white-muzzled otter just kept puffing his pipe, so they dropped it and asked, “Fine, what room am I getting?”

“You can sleep in the Pearl Quarters—it suits you.”

“What?” Veydah hissed. “The prince is in there right now.”

“Ahhh, I see, so you wanted your own room but failed to think where it would go, hmm?” Garlin patted the wooden deck, “This old barge barely holds us and our guests, so where would I keep you, hmm?”

“You have your own room…”

“Aye, so does the helmsman, my boy. You can sleep in the galley with the others, or in the Pearl Quarters.”

“And the prince?”

Garlin grinned at them. “Seems you’ll just have to settle for the galley tonight.”

Veydah got up and said, “I’ll be out of there before dawn. He won’t wake till midmorning unless someone rouses him.”

“I’ll make sure someone gets you before then.”

“Don’t bother,” Veydah said as they stormed off. They knew of a storage closet they’d have happily taken as a room, could shove the things in it down in the galley, but of course Garlin would—

Veydah stopped in the doorway to the Pearl Quarters, small body quivering with anger. What could they do as a slave in foreign land? One where lizards like Veydah were as rare as they were far from their parent’s homeland on the southern end of the continent. Egg sold into slavery, Veydah had been branded into this life since birth. These endless rivers were the only home they'd known.

The Pearl Quarters held a four poster bed, polished vanity where incense sticks burned down to their final cinders, and a tea table for two that rounded out the room. Veydah climbed back into the bed and settled in against the prince, wrapping an arm over his chest, muzzle resting on Cassius’s shoulder. The prince smelled of some sort of orange peel shampoo. Veydah felt a lonely pang of longing as they squeezed the sleeping otter tight. This kind of intimacy something they craved deep in their gut but rarely got without stealing it from the strangers they slept with.