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This is a story commission done for mazrogal: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/mazrogal/

Description: Tempted by the allure of civilization, a young male dragon seeks to earn a village's patronage by offering it protection. But, with threats that require a dragon's intervention being on the decline, the people resort to requesting other types of favor from their local dragon, such as alchemy reagents in the form of his very seed...

Zheradra(C) belongs to me

Mazrogal(c) belongs to https://www.furaffinity.net/user/mazrogal/

***The essence of a dragon chapter 1: Absurd favors***

Mazrogal had heard of the glamorous lifestyle dragons who picked a village to defend led. Endless supplies of the most diverse types of meat were carted to their lairs, be them caves far up in the mountains or cozy buildings designed to fit their very specific preferences. Blankets, rugs, and furs of all kinds warmed their floor, and every now and then, their whole village would gather in front of them to lay down various tools, trinkets, tomes and other exciting items at their very feet.

And speaking of their feet, rumor had it that males and females alike were allowed to select an entourage of bipedals to care for them in various ways, including the massaging of their very paws. He didn't know that such proud, intelligent races stooped so low as to tend to a dragon's very toes, yet the thought had delighted him greatly. Absent a mate and a territory that he could call his own, he might as well enjoy the frivolities of the civilized world before settling with a family far away from their reach.

For the bipedal races were as generous as they were cunning, ever seeking to bend the will of dragons to ultimately serve their interests. Mazrogal wished better for his hatchlings, but for a lone, young male, the allure of such exotic experiences had been far too irresistible.

That was before he ended up in a barn unbefitting of his resplendent race and tasked to shoot his seed in one of the various bowls that mangy rat of a gnoll alchemist had left for him.

"No danger shall ever grace your scales, o magnificent dragon," the mayor, a pudgy bear with a flair for human poetry and literature, had said to him, only to sour the good news with the most asinine request that Mazrogal had ever heard.

"Yet the very lack of threats to our wellbeing is what makes your upkeep...problematic."

Mazrogal snorted in irritated amusement as he remembered his swaying tone, and the way he constantly raised a single finger every time he began a sentence.

"We are ever grateful for your presence and wish to treat you just as well--no, better, far, far better--than our neighbors do. In order for that to happen, requests shall be made of you. Some mundane, others less so, and every one of them specific to your admirable kind."

And that was when they unfurled a scroll thrice bigger than Mazrogal's forepaw before him, next to which they laid a strap of cloth drenched in octopus ink. Unable to read their runes, Mazrogal had pressed his paw into the ink-stained linen swath, and then in the middle of the paper, overtaken with one single thought. He envisioned the community of wolves, foxes, ocelots, humans, and many other species from one end of the village to the other paying tribute to him in the form of the most succulent, savory of morsels.

Mazrogal's stomach grumbled, chiding him for heeding his false hopes. The village of Poldrunn didn't cheat him, nor did they force him into an unfavorable agreement. No, the blame laid entirely on Mazrogal, for failing to understand just how important a dragon was to these people.

Mazrogal flopped onto a pile of hay. He tucked his sable wings to his flanks, rolled onto his belly, and stared at the contraptions located in the far back of his wooden home. The mere sight of the horse-like apparatus produced a lump in his throat, one that refused to go away. Did they seriously expect him to mount a hole clad in oiled silk, and mate it as if it was a female?

They didn't. That was what the bowls were for, in case he preferred the touch of his tongue. Ornate, wide, and cast from shiny metals, they resembled ceremonial bowls more than anything, a thought that amused Mazrogal for a split second. They needed his seed to brew healing poultices to cure ailments absent a common cure, so of course they more or less revered it.

What they didn't anticipate was Mazrogal's stubbornness, as well as his pride that stood in the way of his selflessness. He'd rather pass the day starving than humiliate himself by spending his first seed outside the folds of a dragoness. Anything other than that was downright unbecoming of a male!

Mazrogal got up, pacing around the barn turned temporary home, chancing the chests filled with alchemical glassware a few looks, trying to rouse his faltering courage. All of the equipment that Grarlik needed for his potions had already been brought here. A most ridiculous effort, Mazrogal thought, yet quite effective at rising his guilt levels. These people refused to pressure him through the means available to their kind, so instead, they relied on Mazrogal's goodwill to triumph over his selfishness.

His ivory claws clacked on the wooden floor, his wings rustled from the way he fluttered them due to nerves, and his tail swished hay strands left and right. He had to do it. If he didn't, he would probably be banished from the village come sunrise.

A reassuring thought, given how bipedals probably gossiped among each other right now, laughing at how utterly difficult it came to him to part with his seed.

_If they wanted results, they should have summoned a dragoness from wherever to help me with this plight, _he thought, snorting wisps of grey smoke.

Better yet. He could fly away. Leave Alnavir 's farm, forget about the damned seed collecting, and perhaps live off in the Pinecrest Mountains a few hours of flight away. He'd gladly trade away the supposed comfort of a civilized existence in exchange for meeting some of the wild dragons nested there.

The shudders that followed this foolish thought shook some sense into him. Only mature dragons, bored with their existence, sought shelter into the mountains. As a young male freshly out of his parents' nest, Mazrogal aspired for far more than that. Not to mention that Zheradra, the only other dragon he knew from the vicinity, treated him to some fine licks while the dragons in the Pinecrest Mountains showed him nothing but snarls and tails raised high on the way here, ready to smack his head off his neck.

No, he had to remain here, and for that to happen, he had to win the heart of the people by sharing just a tiny portion of himself with them.

Mazrogal licked his muzzle, took in a deep, reassuring breath, and trotted towards the plain, wooden chests. He stopped in front of them, one claw rested atop the smallest one, his heart pounding within his chest.

"They are right, you know," a familiar, feminine voice said.

"Raargh!" Mazrogal stumbled back, his paws tangling into one another. His wings beat a moment too late, unable to keep him from falling right on top of his haunches.

Zheradra's laughter was just as jarring as it was when they first met, and definitely more annoying. For what Mazrogal knew, she might have purposefully sent him here, fully aware of what the citizens of Poldrunn would ask of him.

"All of the dragons in the neighboring villages are female, for no male is proud enough to subject themselves to petty bipedal requests," she said, yellow and orange crest frills flaring. "And by that, I mean all requests. Not just the more...interesting ones."

Mazrogal remained on his haunches, turning himself around to face her with the help of his tail. "So I am the only fool who fell into the obvious trap."

"Or perhaps the only sensible male around these parts, one who puts the wellbeing of others above petty prejudices."

Mazrogal unfurled his wings, snarling his defiance at her. "Right! I forgot! We know each other so well, don't we? A single, chance meeting is enough to gauge my true intentions, isn't it?"

Zheradra, aloof as always, released a deep, plaintive sigh. "You had the whole morning to yourself. Then, I spent the afternoon with Alnavir, helping him plough the fields. Now, you are telling me I had to push and pull a human contraption around just so you can sleep all day in your cozy home."

"That is exactly what I did," Mazrogal said, a rebellious touch marring his tone. "Don't blame me when it was you who offered to help him out. You aren't even under the employ of this village, so what could you possibly gain by helping these people?"

"I thought I was helping you out as well, by keeping him off your back, by pleading with the mayor to give you the necessary space for...whatever it is that you did."

"I don't need him off my back. All I need is..." he paused to inspect Zheradra. Dirt caked her red paws, turning them almost as black as her claws and paw pads from working the fields. Her belly and wing membranes only bore a few stains here and there, while her haunches fared worse from all that sitting in the dirt while she was undoubtedly trying to figure out how human machines worked for his sake.

"Yeees?" She drawled, taking a few steps closer to Mazrogal, her smooth, leathery frills perked. "What is it you need for this awfully simple job of pleasuring yourself?"

"For you to leave," he said, pointing a wing at the double doors of the barn.

"And how will my departure help with your unwillingness to shoot your seed?"

"It won't, but at the very least, you won't get to spend the rest of your time in this village regretting the terrible choice that you have made." Mazrogal remained on his haunches, his tail splayed on the ground, his amber eyes narrowed with pent-up frustration.

"Very well," Zheradra said. Strangely enough, she avoided contesting his point, much as Mazrogal wanted her to do so. "Alnavir promised to give me a bath. A real bath," she emphasized, "and not the tongue play my parents are so fond of."

"Aren't you too old to still share a nest with them?"

"Aren't you too young to think so highly of your seed?" Zheradra lashed back, rubbing her muzzle against a wing to scratch the itch away with the fine scales tipping her scarlet muzzle. "If my first heat taught me one thing, it is the conviction to further resist its implacable outcome."

Mazrogal's heart suddenly swelled upon hearing that. She didn't want to settle either! And yet, for this single thing they had in common, a myriad of other differences stood in the way of their friendship.

"Well, go have your bath," Mazrogal urged her away with a forepaw.

Zheradra copied his gesture. Only, she stroked at the air with her grimy paw pads instead, mimicking the way male dragons other than him rubbed the seed out of their member. "Well, start stroking or licking your shaft. Whatever gets you to fill whichever recipient you prefer. The gnoll will come back for his due."

Icy talons seized Mazrogal's heart. For a moment, he blinked back his disbelief, his eyes wide. "I...I thought Alnavir 's the one to..."

Zheradra turned around in that elegant fashion of hers, tail swaying with veiled excitement. "I insisted. After all, isn't Grarlik who made the request?"

Mazrogal scoffed at her departing form. For Zheradra, everything was a game. Unlike his lone self, Zheradra lived in the Pinecrest Mountains with her family, checking up on him every so often for reasons that Mazrogal couldn't fathom. Why him, of all the males she could spend time with instead? To mock him for the only thing that was actually difficult for him to do on his own?

The thought of his first attempt at pleasuring himself entered his mind, taunting him, reminding him of how terrible he was at this sort of thing. He must have been the only dragon who had scratched himself down there when he tried grabbing himself. After that incident, Mazrogal refused to put either paw or tongue near his slit. If Zheradra wanted to get him to spill his first seed so bad, then all she had to do was raise her tail for him and allow him deep inside her. Then, she could squat over the bowls she so favored and fill them up herself!

Mazrogal shook his head to clear it, yet the harm had already been done. His slit turned taut, the muscles hidden beneath the surface shuddering a little as his spaded crimson tip poked out of its confines, the ridges lining the underside of his member growing bigger and harder with every thundering heartbeat.

Rather than rush to the bowls and rub his first seed out of his cock so as to not waste his erection, Mazrogal carefully lowered himself upon a mound of hay, lying on his side, lifting a hind paw towards the roof of the barn to keep his haunch out of the way of his erection. It was a ridiculous pose for a male dragon to find themselves in, one that Mazrogal detested with all his heart.

Yet even his frustrations failed to stand in the way of Zheradra's appetizing hindquarters and alluring body. He desperately tried to focus on everything else but Zheradra's gender, or that scent of pine and wildflowers her hide carried when devoid of grime. By closing his eyes and thinking on how terrible today turned out to be, Mazrogal slowly but surely managed to undo his erection, his hind leg crashing down soon after.

A long, weary sigh left him. It was a short-lived victory, meaningless upon the coming of dusk. He either gave Grarlik the reagent to brew his potions and thus humiliate himself in the process, or go live far away from civilization. He would have to hunt his own meals, skin and wash and dry his own bedding, and even fight possible competition.

Worst of all, he'd be alone throughout the whole ordeal.

To pass the time, Mazrogal found himself staring at the soft, dark scales protecting the back of his paws. They matched the obsidian color present on the rest of his body, and brought out his white claws and belly plates. His horns, also a pristine white, curled over the back of his skull, providing a convenient support to keep his head tilted towards his hindquarters.

Down there, between his haunches, stood his gender, his slit equally sensitive as his wing membranes, and bulging with the ripe knot nestled within. Alnavir had once compared it to two oranges fused together, a thought which brought a smile to Mazrogal. Oranges had a rough, uneven texture, whereas his knot looked smoother than his wing membranes.

His interest in the intricacies of his body faltering, Mazrogal spent the next hour staring at chests and bowls and mounting contraption, clawing at the floor to pass the time, stretching and fluttering his wings, swishing his tail.

"Still empty."

This time, Mazrogal remained on top of one of his many hay beds, curled into a ball. "Did you expect a different outcome?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not," Zheradra said, closing the doors of the barn on her way inside and shutting the lock into place with her forepaws. The whole room grew darker, the only the light creeping between the narrow wooden boards of the walls.

Mazrogal grew eerily tense. Although he didn't expect the outcome to change, being isolated in the same enclosed space with a dragoness did stir some of his wilder thoughts to surface. As he drew in a deep, anxious breath, a myriad of scents crept into his nostrils. Mostly scented oils, the latest trend in the world of the human ladies, but also a sharper fragrance, earthy yet potent. That one made his blood boil within his veins; it urged his shaft to tighten and wriggle its way past his slit out of its own accord.

Mazrogal had smelled it on a few rare occasions, but never so fresh, with its source definitely not in the vicinity.

"You're...not in heat, are you?" Mazrogal asked, neatly folding his wings, suddenly pretending to groom a forepaw to avoid matching Zheradra's gaze.

"If I was, would it have made a difference?"

Mazrogal didn't trust himself to answer that question, so Zheradra explained the cause of her arousal to him.

"Well, Alnavir had me dunk inside the pool the villagers had prepared for you, filled to the brim with hot water to rinse away the remnants of your seed. As part of our bargain, he scrubbed my scales clean, and even took his time with my paws and tail, mrrrr," her trill of satisfaction came. "Too bad he's a human. He possesses certain qualities I'd dearly love to see in a male dragon."

"Alnavir always keeps his word. It is what makes humans so fascinating," Mazrogal said, bringing a wing over his head, then pressing a paw over his muzzle to muffle some of Zheradra's too tempting scent.

"They are fascinating, aren't they? I never expected a human's hands to feel so...delightful. They have this thing called a thumb that is more flexible than any of my toes."

The pitter patter of Zheradra's claws heralded her approach. Mazrogal made sure to keep his back to her, his tail tucked between his limbs, a few inches above his erection to keep it from touching its sensitive surface.

"Sounds like you had a good time."

"I did. I only wish you had the presence of mind to let others help milk your seed if you refuse to do it yourself. It only took Alnavir 's touch upon my scales to stir me, and I can only imagine how wonderful those curling fingers could feel around your sensitive tip, hrrrrrrrh."

Zheradra could be quite crude at times, and also nonchalant in a rather unnerving way. As Mazrogal adjusted to a side position with great care to keep his malehood out of her line of sight, Zheradra settled on the ground in front of him, purposefully keeping her haunches relaxed and her tail spread along the floor. That gave Mazrogal a too good view of her gender, a narrow, scale-less strip located just above the base of her tail and surrounded by the darker, more vibrant crimson scales adorning the inner portion of her haunches. While aroused, her lips puffed up a bit, made obvious by the glistening film coating them and trickling on the ground, droplet by slim droplet.

"Mrrrarrr, it's a good thing you don't resemble Alnavir in some regards," Zheradra said, lifting a wing to lick along the smooth membrane, a mere excuse to lift her haunch ever higher and force her crevice to stretch even more, giving Mazrogal a good view of those drenched, fleshy insides. "The human tensed up as soon as his hands hovered too close to my sex. When I bucked my hips to force his fingers upon my lips, he downright panicked and begged me not to tell his kin about this happening."

The dragoness released a soft chortle, one golden eye fixating on Mazrogal. "At least you do not quite adhere to the rules of what they call privacy. You may be shy, but you are not without curiosity, mrrrh?"

Mazrogal didn't answer. His member began to throb, the knot swollen to full girth from the copious amounts of pheromones his flared nostrils sucked in.

Zheradra's snout bumping against his neck drew Mazrogal to awareness, making him tense up, squeak, and kick all of his limbs in panic.

"Yip!" he cried out, buffeting Zheradra away with a wing. "I wasn't...I was simply..."

"Studying your first female from up-close?" Zheradra whispered, her tongue trailing along Mazrogal's neck, its warmth making his scales tingle. "I'm not against it. In fact, I welcome it. I stand equally curious where males are concerned."

"I wasn't studying your gender!" Mazrogal shot back. "I was--I was looking at your scales, at how they glisten after a dip in soapy water."

Zheradra shifted onto her feet, stretching her wings to flaunt her slim, elegant body, the pale rays of sunlight creeping between the wooden boards dancing upon her scales like twirling snakes.

Mazrogal brought his hindquarters around, one wing settled over them to conceal his throbbing erection while he took in Zheradra's beautiful body. She had a wild beauty, her smooth, curving horns adding to her allure, same for her lithe constitution. Her paws were slim yet strong, equipped with nicely curved talons, as dark as her horns. Along her sides, golden stripes decorated her crimson scales in the most fascinating of ways, the broader scales turning into the small, pebbly ones lining her light-colored belly, softer, yet equally durable.

Webbed spines ran all over her back, down to her tail tip, the membrane linking them yellow at the base and turning a fiery orange towards the top.

He had been infatuated with her since the day he first laid eyes upon her, and her gaze always puzzled him. Always warm, always playful when around a dragon who didn't even know how to mate, let alone coax his seed out through other means.

"Now you're staring," Zheradra pointed out, turning around to flaunt her flame-shaped tail tip. "Very well. You are allowed to stare. Just this one time."

Mazrogal paid little attention to her tail. His eyes drifted towards the prize nestled between her haunches, to that soaked crevice that elicited a soft, involuntary moan from him when his knot slipped out of his slit with a forceful throb.

"Oh. Does that mean you are ready?"

Ready? Ready for what? To...mate?

An electrifying jolt rushed through Mazrogal's scales. He curled around himself tighter, shaking his head with swift, vehement swings. "I--I don't think I'm ready for...for..."

His tongue fell limp within his mouth, his lips shuddered due to nerves, and all of his toes curled inwards, claws biting into the layers of dark scales covering his feet. He had been day dreaming about this moment, and now that it was upon it, Mazrogal greeted it like an improper, incompetent imbecile.

"Oh, but I believe you are. Even I know that much. You're a male like any other, unable to resist the sight and scent of a female. Roll on your back."

Why would he roll on his back when the male usually...?

The sudden snap of a chest lid slamming shut washed away the fog of lust that had settled over Mazrogal's mind. When she next faced him, a thin, flaccid strap of overly smooth leather dangled from her teeth, the recipient bobbing from her alert footsteps.

Zheradra spat it beside Mazrogal's haunch, then licked her lips in quite the salacious fashion.

"This is called a seed holder. The bipedals use it to avoid unwanted pregnancies, but in your case, we shall use it to collect the seed you ejaculate during our mating."

A seed holder? Ejaculation? Their mating?

Mazrogal's head spun, his rock-hard cock numbing his thought process down to an instinctive, almost dire need to rid himself of the terrible, aching hardness that had inflated his knot almost to the point of refuse.

"It won't be an actual mating, of course, but a mere attempt at it. I'm not going to feel your seed explode inside me, just like you won't experience the silken touch of my insides."

"I...I don't want to do it," Mazrogal whined, blowing a puff of white smoke as he shifted his gaze towards the seed holder. It looked ridiculous, like an oversized, single-digit glove made for a cock instead of a human's fingers." I don't want to mate with you. Not like this. Not here."

Zheradra's tongue alighted upon his cheek, washing away some of his panic through a mere lick.

"Here is as good a place as any. Be thankful I chose to be here instead of Alnavir . His hands might have suited your cock better, but letting a human caress you in that intimate sort of way..." she paused to roll on her side and grab her hind paws with her forepaws, tilting her head towards Mazrogal. "That is not what a dragon like you wishes. I am certain of it."

Watching her be so at ease both unnerved and excited Mazrogal. After all, Zheradra was a very desirable dragoness, yet her playfulness hid a spark of courtship that he simply couldn't accept, given the circumstances.

So, Mazrogal presented her with a faint snarl, letting his frustrations out into the open. "Says the one who pushed her nethers into his fingers."

"Why, yes. Curiosity leads us down the strangest of paths. I have half a mind to rub you with my paw pads and let you shoot between my toes, but it feels awfully improper for your first ejaculation."

Mazrogal had enough of this village 's demands, of Zheradra's smug attitude. Everybody pretended to know better than him--which they probably did--but that didn't keep the sable dragon's irritation from rising to a point where his erection no longer mattered.

He got up, his eyes narrow, his nostrils flared, wing pointing towards the exit of the barn. "I'm not going to ejaculate on command for your pleasure, or that of a mangy alchemist, no matter how beneficial it is for everybody involved."

He made sure to keep his back straight, his wings tucked, his head high, his tail tilted towards the side, to show its irritated flicking to Zheradra.

Of course she didn't take him seriously. Her laughter filled the barn, musical yet infuriating at the same time. When it finally ended, she approached him, rubbing her neck along his in a most casual gesture.

"Oh, Mazrogal. We need to work on your poise, but first, let's get you to cum and forget about this dreadful episode of your life."

"I'm not shooting my first seed into anything else but a dragoness," he said vehemently, only for his cheeks to sear with blistering heat when he remembered that one such dragoness actually shared the barn with him.

"I mean, I refuse to surrender my seed to whoever wishes it without inflicting the same discomfort upon you."

Zheradra drew back, amused rather than offended or threatened. "And what is it you wish to do to me?" She inquired, excitement vibrating within her purr.

Mazrogal's eyes switched to her paws. More specifically, to those smooth, cushy, and probably very sensitive paw pads. "If I somehow end up ejaculating my first seed inside this most improper of places, then I wish to put my claws to your paw pads. The ones on your hind paws, specifically," he added, certain that the dragoness would spare herself the torment.

"I accept," she said plainly, without even giving proper consideration to what that entailed.

"Are you certain?" he sought to intimidate her. "You'll squirm, writhe, squeak and squeal like a hatchling during their first tongue bath. Downright humiliating, it is."

"So long as it convinces you to let go of your precious seed, I am ready for whatever twisted foreplay that is," she growled, almost salaciously.

Somehow, the calm tone of her voice, coupled with the dramatic choice of words, soothed Mazrogal enough to reveal more about the reason behind his stubbornness. "Fine. I accept. Just know that I... have never touched myself down there, at least not in the proper way that shows results."

He immediately rolled his head out of the way to avoid Zheradra's look of disbelief, but instead, the dragoness licked at his neck, again and again, her soft trill bursting to life.

"I wouldn't be here if you had the proper experience to handle these sorts of requests from a village." She bumped her nose against his, then gave him a brief kiss. "Now lie down. Let the virgin dragoness show the inexperienced male how it's done. I am certain we make quite the pair, us two."

Mazrogal should have retorted. By all rights, he should be fuming right now, rampaging through the barn, snarling and roaring.

Instead, he dipped his head in agreement, wobbling and spinning, searching for the proper way to lower himself onto his back without hurting his erection.

Zheradra rammed her head against his flank, sending Mazrogal straight onto his side, kicking his four limbs and shrieking from the dull pain welling within his limbs. The dragoness pinned his paws underneath hers, squeezing him hard enough for Mazrogal to quit struggling. Her snout inched closer to his, eyes smoldering with disturbing intensity.

"That is better. Finally, you're on your back. Now lie still, unless you want one of my claws to scratch that smooth, crimson meat of yours. It would make this moment far more awkward than it needs to be."

Mazrogal chose not to speak, even though his belly churned with apprehension and his head spun under the weight of his thoughts. This was too outlandish for him to even consider, let alone become part of it. And Zheradra--she wasn't herself! She had been playful around him, but never so focused, so intense. It both scared and excited Mazrogal, to surrender to the whims of a dragoness guided by her own arousal and interest in him.

He made a mental note not to mention that to her, ever. Zheradra would deny it; claim that curiosity got the better of her, when in fact, her scales must have tingled something fierce, especially around her genitalia.

"Spread your legs," she said, her voice fading into a whisper as her hind paw connected with one of his haunches, pushing it to the side. "I've already seen it. No point in covering it."

Mazrogal rolled his head to the right, away from her tongue. "Just do what you have to do. No point in drawing this out."

"Hrr, impatient, are we? Very well."

She released Mazrogal's limbs and stepped to the side, grabbing the seed holder between two talons, inspecting it from various angles.

"You have not the slightest clue how to put it on, do you? Which is precisely why we shouldn't even consider this," Mazrogal said when the silence got too thick.

"Hasn't all that gawking at my sex taught you that I lack one of those?" She jutted her snout toward his member. "Of course it is a learning experience for me as well."

Mazrogal's heart skipped a beat when her eyes absorbed his erection. It rose like a flag pole, the spaded tip prominent and swollen, just as the ridges spreading across its bottom. Even more mesmerizing to Zheradra was the base of his cock, where his plump knot swelled to impressive size, making it nigh impossible for his member to slip back into its slit.

"Just...just do something already," Mazrogal whimpered, finally accepting this most unnerving and irrational course of action. "I can't suffer being like this."

"Defenseless before a female? Exposed to her whims? Or perhaps...aroused at the thought that your member is her sole focus?" Zheradra drawled, her tongue rolling over her muzzle as she shifted the seed holder from one paw to another, lying on her haunches next to Mazrogal's side. "I'm aroused as well, yet unlike you, I understand my purpose here."

Precisely why the sable dragon's heart threatened to explode from the torrent of emotions churning within him. Masturbating with the intent to cum inside a seed holder, bowl or contraption was weird enough. Having Zheradra, a dragoness, do it for him, was another matter entirely!

"Hold still. I'm going to drag this all the way down. Try not to twitch."

"Aurgh! Eck! Rarh!" The sounds burst past Mazrogal's lips out of their own accord, his limbs jolting, his tail curling tight around Zheradra's as the dragoness clad his entire length with that smooth, elegant leather. It was softer than he imagined, and the feeling of Zheradra's paws caressing his shaft on the way down only served to make his member throb and convulse violently, his seed already welling at the base of his knot.

Blessedly, it all came to an abrupt end when his entire cock now laid hidden beneath the leather covering.

"There. First step's done." Zheradra drew back to inspect her work, a mischievous grin spread over her snout. "Now, how should we proceed?"

"No mating," Mazrogal hissed at her, his resolve burning deep within his amber eyes. "If I am to spill my seed for your enjoyment, and for the benefit of this village, I'll do it through any other means that are far less intimate."

Zheradra pondered on that for a moment as she licked the coal-black pads of her paws, tasting what little precum Mazrogal had to offer.

"How do males masturbate? With their paws, or with their tongue, like us females prefer?"

How was Mazrogal supposed to know? The few seconds it took Zheradra to strap the seed holder onto his cock had been anything but pleasurable from a psychological point of view. His heart pounded harder than it did in his whole life, and he had been too worried about her claws to even notice the sparks of pleasure brought by her paw's caress.

"Let's try a paw first."

Mazrogal's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "No no, you're going to rawrrrghhh!"

The sable dragon dragged his claws against the floor, his frame shuddering with the effort to keep from rolling to the side.

"It feels good, yes? I know how to touch a male, so don't look that horrified," Zheradra cooed, clenching her toes around his cock, then dragging her paw along his shaft, her claws inches from the too thin material that covered his crimson penis.

"I don't--grarr--I don't like it," Mazrogal lied, straining to find the proper words through the jolts and throbs of his cock, each more pleasurable than the last. In retrospect, he should have kept his muzzle shut and end this ordeal, but his pride refused to give in that easily.

Surprisingly, Zheradra removed her paw, licking off the traces of Mazrogal's musk off the seed holder's surface. "Tongue it is then."

Before Mazrogal had any chance to object, her snout snaked forward, pink tongue coiling around Mazrogal like a warm, slippery eel. Zheradra's eyes sparkled with pent-up satisfaction, purring sounds vibrating within her throat.

Mazrogal released weak, shuddering moans, the lapping of that agile tongue upon his erection ushering electrifying jolts of pleasure that pooled within the base of his cock, then dispersed through the rest of his body. His wings splayed on the ground. His haunches parted invitingly for her maw, and Mazrogal's own tongue lolled out of his mouth as his breaths became ragged, sporadic.

"You're throbbing," Zheradra said between licks. "You must be close."

He was. Only a couple more licks, and he would--

Mazrogal shrieked instead, shoving Zheradra away with his hind paws just as her jaws parted, ready to take him into her maw.

Her hiss brought chills down Mazrogal's spine, as did her narrow eyes. "You fool! We almost did it!"

"No! Not like this! Not in that forest of sharp fangs that might tear the seed holder apart!"

Zheradra snorted a tongue of ruddy flames, stomping a forepaw. "No paws, no mouth, no mating. How am I supposed to help you, then?"

"I don't know!" Mazrogal half said, half roared, exasperated with this dizzying spiral of emotions. "Let us put this nonsense behind us and never speak of it again."

"I'm not going to let you fly away into a world that you are clearly unprepared for. Not when this village will tend to all of your needs."

With a leap enhanced by her powerful wings, Zheradra landed atop Mazrogal, rubbing the tip of her snout against his, her purr deepening. "Accept this, Mazrogal. It is the most natural of ways."

Zheradra's tail seized Mazrogal's, squeezing it in a tight but comfortable embrace. Her haunches slipped past Mazrogal's, her bulk forcing them further to the side while she lowered her hindquarters upon him, ever so slowly, until Mazrogal's spaded tip brushed against her dripping folds.

The dragons growled in unison, Mazrogal's rougher voice molding with Zheradra's softer one. The heat of her delicate passage overwhelmed his senses, her tightness forced him to squeeze his eyes shut from the pressure exerted upon his tight meat, and her arousal helped his girth pry those shuddering walls apart almost effortlessly.

Being inside Zheradra took Mazrogal's breath away. The male's limbs and tail fell limp, a snarl tugging at his lips, becoming more prominent with every throb of his cock. He never imagined that a female would be so hot, so tight and wet down there.

Or that the pressure welling within the base of his penis would feel so taxing.

Unwilling to let go just yet, Mazrogal shoved his hips upwards, slamming his knot against Zheradra's vent with an audible squelch, rising her growl a pitch higher.

"Mrrarr, this feels...it's overpowering," Zheradra whined. "My scales feel aflame, and my haunches suddenly turned weak."

Mazrogal cracked his eyes open, noticing Zheradra's scrunched muzzle and twitching frills. For a moment, she didn't seem such a daunting dragoness. In spite of her haughty claims, Zheradra was a virgin herself, yet untouched by a male.

The sable dragon's tongue darted out, caressing Zheradra's chin, a reassuring warble igniting within his throat. "We're...mating, aren't we?"

"Hrrah!" Zheradra hissed, bumping her nose against Mazrogal's. "It isn't mating. Just..helping you...cum inside that seed holder."

She was helping herself as well, judging by the sound of the soft squelches filling the barn. Zheradra did all of the work for him, keeping her forepaws straight and steady, her nostrils flaring every time her hindquarters descended upon Mazrogal, forcing his girth to bury all the way into her stretched canal. His knot, swollen to the size of oranges, seemed far too big to fit in, each shove of Zheradra's cunt against it producing soft, panicked squeaks from Mazrogal.

It was too big. If Zheradra pushed too hard against his knot, if it somehow got inside her, he would hurt her. He would...

Zheradra increased the pace of the mating. Her back arched, wings stretching to the far sides, fluttering for balance. Her lower regions were completely soaked with the abundant juices leaking past her swollen folds, streaming over Mazrogal's slit.

While Zheradra gave Mazrogal a few warm licks on the side of his neck, she rubbed the base of her tail over his tailhole, making the puckered flesh shudder from her lewd ministrations. That served to stoke Mazrogal's looming orgasm, bringing it closer and closer.

Acting on instinct, the sable dragon grabbed Zheradra's shoulders with his forepaws, clutching his dragonesss tight. His haunches hugged Zheradra's shivering ones, the toll of the mating all too obvious from the ripples dashing through her muscles.

Mazrogal tried focusing on the pleasurable feeling of her gentle tongue upon his scales. He licked Zheradra in return, but his strokes were jerky, feeble, and, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself from the fiery pleasure flooding him, Mazrogal couldn't.

"Rrraaaaaaaaarrr!"

Zheradra's earsplitting roar took him aback. It cut through his chest, so intense that it triggered Mazrogal's own orgasm. Unlike the fierce dragoness mounting him, Mazrogal's cries were feeble and sporadic, mere moans compared to her smoldering growl. Her insides lurched and squeezed Mazrogal's shaft, quickening the flow of seed rushing through his member, urging it to smash against the seed holder. The thing swelled to refuse within the span of only four spurts, and Zheradra's hips still bucked, the dragoness slamming her cunt against his knot while caught in the thrill of her climax.

Mazrogal's jaws wrapped around her neck, biting softly, trying to warn her against pushing too hard against his knot.

To no avail. After one forceful shove, her vent swallowed his knot, the tightness of her walls so blissful to his sensitive knot Mazrogal unleashed his remaining seed in one last, mighty spurt, more than the seed holder could take.

Its bottom gave in, allowing all of his gooey essence to flood her nether depths. Her eyes snapped open, lower jaw hanging, a look of utter surprise on her face. Mazrogal, on the other hand, kept his head to the side, a trickle of drool flowing past his tongue, his body twitching in unison with the delayed spurts milked by Zheradra's clenching muscles.

With his tip released from the clutches of the seed holder, everything felt infinitely more intense and, as a male who lodged himself knot deep within his female, Mazrogal could do naught but enjoy the surge of bliss washing through him, without a care in the world.

It all ended when Zheradra collapsed upon him, her weight bearable, but not quite what Mazrogal would call comfortable. As breath left him, so did his afterglow. Realization replaced it, bitter and cold, seizing Mazrogal's heart with icy talons.

"It...it broke, didn't it?"

"Mmmm," Zheradra hummed, rubbing her cheek against it.

"It shouldn't have. It...this wasn't supposed to be an actual mating."

He certainly tried wriggling out of Zheradra's grasp, but the dragoness had none of it. Her paws restrained his movement. Her wings engulfed him, their warmth sapping his will to flee her embrace.

"Apparently, it become one," Zheradra said, her lick soothing, warm, and wet, so wet. "All the better that you have released your first seed inside me. There are rumors about the thick consistency of a male's seed, amounts, and warmth, and so far, the experience has been nothing short of memorable."

Mazrogal remained stiff, bewildered, frozen in panic. He didn't want Zheradra to mate with him, a village dwelling idiot. She deserved a better male, one who treated her with the respect she deserved.

As if reading his mind, the dragoness' toes wrapped around his snout, her eyes bearing into his, inches from him. "Don't speak. Don't ruin it. You have knotted your first female. Just accept that it happened and savor it down to the last drop of seed."

With that said, she relaxed atop his frame, snuggling under his chin. Mazrogal hugged her tighter, hissing softly whenever a short spasm ran through her cunt, forcing her walls to clamp down around him. He had been dreaming of this moment for so long, and now, when his seed began to trickle past his knot, Mazrogal felt completely lost.

What was he supposed to make out of this? It shouldn't have counted. It probably didn't, yet Zheradra's mischievous nibbles on the tender scales of his neck warned him that she didn't plan to let go of him just yet.

When he finally tapered off, Zheradra got off him without as much as a lick, heading straight for the bowls left by the alchemist for Mazrogal's male deed.

Stunned, Mazrogal blinked his bleary eyes, as if to make sure the dragoness did, indeed, shift off him.

"What..." he paused for a second, blinking back his disbelief at watching Zheradra walk so casually while her sex leaked strands of thick, gooey seed that dribbled on the floor with every step she took. "What are you doing?"

Zheradra didn't answer him. Once she reached one of the bowls, she squatted above it as if making her water, clenching her muscles to deposit some of his seed in there, facing him while she performed that foul but arguably necessary deed.

"Don't be so timid. You must have considered this option as well. You're a male, after all."

Mazrogal shielded his face beneath his forepaws and brought his wings around for good measure as well, terribly embarrassed at being confronted by one of his errant thoughts turned reality.

***End of chapter 1***

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