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

Description: After helping Mazrogal with the demeaning task of shooting his seed for the benefits of the village's alchemist, Zheradra takes her friend to the Pinecrest Mountains for a day of rest and relaxation, away from the ever-demanding villagers. While she sunbathes, all it takes is a furtive glance at the dragoness' sex for Zheradra to coax Mazrogal into a game that turns out to be quite different than the ones he is accustomed to.

Zheradra(C) belongs to me

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

Artwork is done by: https://www.furaffinity.net/journals/styxandstoned/

***The Essence of a Dragon chapter 2: Dragon Games***

Mazrogal remained on his haunches, unwilling to unceremoniously flop belly-up onto the fresh, young, green grass of the glade Zheradra had found for them. He shook his head in disbelief at the sight of her, with her wings splayed to the sides, her tail curled into an arc, and her hind legs thrust upward.

She better resembled a cat than a dragon. No, worse than that. A dog, for only they acted so ignorant in the face of possible threats, of which the Pinecrest Mountains held many. He would have mentioned that to her as well if her alluring sex wasn't so painfully visible to his curious, amber eyes. Her lightly spread haunches forced the lips of her gender to part slightly, revealing pink, glistening flesh a shade lighter in color. It wasn't a smooth, even canal like he expected. Instead, the flesh folded upon itself, creating curves, wrinkles and ridges that drew the tip of his cock out of its hiding due to their exquisite shapes.

"Since you already gawk at me, you might as well coax more of your member out," Zheradra's voice cut through Mazrogal's calmness, forcing his wings to immediately drape across his belly and hide his indecency from her lazy, half-opened eye. "The alchemist of Poldrunn received more than enough reagent for his poultices, so your seed is your own for the time being, to spend however you wish."

"I..." he paused to swallow back the nerves building in his stomach, continuing with a smoother, more confident tone. "I do not dabble in such crude practices, as you are well aware of. Rather, I was simply trying to familiarize myself with the female anatomy."

Zheradra shrugged with the tips of her wings and tail, laying her head back as far as her obsidian colored horns allowed. "Familiarize yourself away. You are free to spread me open if it helps your research, but if one of your claws finds improper purchase on my flesh and causes me discomfort, I will return it tenfold on your cock. Agreed?"

As soon as she finished, a monstrous yawn overtook her, the bifurcated tip of her tongue arching upward before it returned to the floor of her gaped maw.

Her stupid, idiotic look made Mazrogal scoff at the irony of his decision. He could've summoned that pack of wolf ladies with but a call, and they would have rushed to bathe him and recite him tales while their scented cloths pleasantly stroked his scales. Instead, he dunked into the frigid waters of a mountain lake at the behest of a slack jawed dragoness.

What sort of male did that make him?

One who is mounted by a female, instead of doing the mounting.

What started off as a silly game became an apparent aspect of their fledgling relationship, where Zheradra did whatever she wanted, and Mazrogal dutifully followed. And what were they, even? Certainly not mates. Friends? Barely. He was simply...curious about her, in more than one way, and she definitely found him an entertaining company, if anything.

Yet curiosity alone was certainly not enough to spread her folds while she laid down in that position. It was far too compromising to her and lacked the intimacy Mazrogal needed to take this sort of initiatives.

"If you can't muster the courage to do what you sorely crave for, then might as well lie down," Zheradra said, her eyes still closed and pointed at the sky. How could she even tell?

"You're not making a sound, which makes you a tree or a statue. Certainly not a dragon, free to savor the sun, or the caress of grass upon scales, or his dragoness." Her voice softened at that last remark, a tinge of playfulness seeping into it. "You're not in Poldrunn anymore, to concern yourself with the opinion of humans. Roll around. Play with your paws or tail. Enjoy yourself!"

"Enjoy my dragoness?" Mazrogal repeated, as if to make sure he heard that right. "In a territory that is most likely claimed?"

Zheradra chuckled, her head rolling in his direction, her fiery eyes alight with a spark of mischievousness. "Not every venture has to end in climax. Believe what you will of the Pinecrest dragons, but so long as they don't smell the scents of mating, they have no reason to assume we moved into their territory."

The young male cocked his head at the ridiculousness of that remark. "And if we would mate, can't we simply reason with them?"

A puff of white smoke fled Zheradra's nostrils. "You can try, but I strongly advise not to. One of their ancient pacts dictates that, once a hatchling leaves their egg, the parents and their young are to share the territory with the current residents in peace. This makes at least half of the current Pinecrest dragons rogues who have evaded a given territory's occupants long enough to hatch their eggs, and if you look around, the meadows aren't exactly teeming with prey."

"Which is all the more reason we should find a better spot for...whatever it is you are doing."

Zheradra snorted her indifference at his plight. "I am drying the scales of my belly while my half-erect male watches."

A spark of apprehension ignited within Mazrogal. He peeked between his haunches to make sure nothing improper showed and, sure enough, his silver colored plates betrayed no signs of flesh.

"Hrrrf," he grumbled dismissively at her jape. Wishful thinking on her part. Although the eagerness to spend his seed into her a second time always whispered temptations from the back of his mind, Mazrogal had his pride to heed as well. He wouldn't just mount her to rid himself of his lust. That just wasn't him.

Despite his self-reassurance, Mazrogal's eyes constantly skipped to her nethers, ignoring the tongues of light grey fire lapping at her wings, blind to her uniquely shaped stripes, and ignorant to her beautiful tail tip. Zheradra had many fascinating features, yet he still found himself drawn by the plainest, one that every female possessed.

Zheradra's timing couldn't be worst. She interrupted her siesta by swinging her head to his side just as Mazrogal's freshly spilled knot began to harden, his ridges already tense, his spaded tip engorged by the delightful sights he absorbed.

"Of all the things you can do, you chose to stare at my sex without even sniffing, let alone spread me open to see new sights. It's as if we haven't even mated," she said, rolling in his direction, beckoning him to approach with a wing.

"I'm not going to lick and suckle the seed out of your cock, if that is what worries you," Zheradra said, noticing his hesitation. "But if you're not going to play with yourself, at least let us play together."

The salacious lick rolling across her muzzle first and foremost suggested that she had definitely tasted his seed on her way to her supposed bath back in the village of Poldrunn. After all, it did stick to her lips, and her best and quickest means to avoid a celebration thrown in the honor of their future hatchling was to simply clean away the clues. Still, he began to understand how Zheradra operated, and whatever game she had in mind, it wouldn't involve mating. Not so soon after her bath.

Mazrogal made his way to her, wings folded tight to his back, tail swishing uncertainly behind him. When he reached her, however, Zheradra simply pointed with her tail tip at her belly, urging him to massage her, like the anthros back in the village often did.

His skeptical gaze first fell on his paws, the four, slender toes ill-suited for that type of activity. Humans and anthros alike tended to use their palms more than their fingers during a massage, and as a digitigrade, all that Mazrogal could hope for were shallow strokes absent depths.

"That is your only option," Zheradra emphasized. "I won't have you drool over my fresh, glossy hide, and I am too relaxed to allow you to feast on my sex. Not to mention that I might lose myself in the thrill and roll in the grass like a female dog in heat. That defeats the purpose of the bath we just took, hrrr?"

"Or we could mate," Mazrogal tried to ease into her playful demeanor with a ridiculous proposition of his own. "I promise to push myself deep inside you, so that none of my seed leaks out."

Zheradra eyed him warily at first, her paws tense, claws ready to strike that imbecilic thought out of his head. Instead, a low, excited thrum rippled in her throat, her tail tip running up and down his haunch while her forepaw caressed his foreleg encouragingly.

"I believe the honesty of your intentions. Had you no knot, I would have entertained this blunt yet daring proposition, but you've seen what followed the moment I pushed myself off you."

Creases formed on Mazrogal's snout as he snarled at that most embarrassing of memories. Not only had Zheradra fulfilled the task that had been given to him by milking the excess fluids out of herself and into a bowl. Afterwards, she cleaned herself on the surface, enough to fool the impressionable wolf pack that she summoned, directing them straight at Mazrogal, claiming that he squeezed his knot so hard, he toppled over and spilled all over himself in the process.

"You lied to them," he growled, guiding her tail away from him with his own. "You could have told them the truth, but instead..." his words faltered when the embarrassment became so great, that his tongue began to tangle in his maw.

"Tell them the truth?" Zheradra rolled her head back, laughing at what she obviously considered a preposterous idea, her four paws kicking at the air as if to drive off that nonsense.

"My young, naïve male, the truth would have made you the laughing stock of the village today, and a legend amongst the dragons living here within the next week. And next month, who knows?" She broke off at the end, indulging in her mirth some more, extending her pity to him with the help of a wing.

Mazrogal stepped away from her to avoid giving her the satisfaction, scowling at how she turned a perfectly reasonable thought into a joke. "And lying is better? How?"

"Well," Zheradra said while staring at the sky in order to maintain her composure, as if the very sight of him would send her into another giggling spree. "At least you've fulfilled your pledge to them by yourself, without the aid of a bipedal of any gender, or a male dragon. Letting them know that it took a female to mount your fear away, and that she completed your task through the ingenious use of a seed holder...well, you can piece up the rest yourself."

He could. Unnervingly well, now that she outlined her thoughts in a clearer manner. Nevertheless, he still disliked her choice to approach that matter, and her carefree attitude irritated him even more.

"Massage yourself, since you have a solution to everything," he said, settling on his haunches, curling his tail about his forelegs in protest.

"Pouty hatchling," Zheradra whispered under her breath.

"I'm not pouting! Simply...refusing to follow your command, you red-scaled tyrant."

She shrugged her wings at that, completely unfazed, savoring the sun's rays upon her hide with utmost serenity. "Have it your way. Your paws wouldn't do a good job at it anyway. Your toes are too long, and your soles rough and scaly."

What an infuriating creature! She practically forced him to indulge her, if only to clear the reputation of his paws. They might not caress her with the same efficiency as a biped's hands, but she was dead wrong in assuming that he couldn't provide her with at least a modicum of pleasure.

Determined to prove her wrong, Mazrogal strolled to her, waiting for her wing to shift off the grass so that he could sit on his haunches next to her lower half, and then allowing it to drape over the inferior half of his hind legs, like an orange and yellow blanket. He purposefully chose this position. Should she decide that his massage annoyed her more than it brought her pleasure, at least he had enough time to swerve away from her snaking maw.

"Start with a haunch," she recommended, spreading her hind leg for ease of access. "Easier to grab."

Mazrogal followed her instructions, gripping her by the thinner, more manageable calf, forcing his toes to curl and grip at the same time. The brittle scales lining the bottom of his feet slid against her bigger, stronger ones effortlessly, the friction igniting a low hum in Zheradra's throat.

"Surprising," she said, leaning her head back against her horns, closing her eyes to savor what Mazrogal had to offer. "Your flaking scales feel like the rougher leathers the bipeds use. They're quite stimulating."

A wan smile formed on Mazrogal's lips at her encouragement, dimmed by the toll the movements of his toes extracted from his fatigued paws. Managing the strength of his grip, balancing the clenching of his toes with the forward and backward motion of the massage and keeping his claws at bay demanded all of Mazrogal's concentration, yet his efforts paid off. Zheradra's tail tip began to flick every now and then, and visible tremors rushed through the scales of her nether belly, converging on her nethers.

"Higher," she demanded, lowering her leg in his grip, so that her paw was within reach. It was bigger than his, and far thicker due to the coal-black pads. To help stabilize it, he grabbed it with his left paw just under the pads, then cupped her paw in the grip of his right paw and attempted to stroke her pads with the short, opposable toe that was the best at gripping.

"Kreeeeh!" Zheradra suddenly squeaked, retracting her paw with a lightning-fast reflex. "Your scales tickle. Bad idea. Try the haunch, or the belly, whichever you prefer."

His paws couldn't grip the broad, powerful muscles of her haunch, rendering him unable to get a proper grip. With her belly, Mazrogal fared far worse. Without the ability to twist his wrist in all the ways that the bipeds could, his only option was to drag his paws along Zheradra's softer, pink colored scales, causing her to tense and start from her trance, puffing tongues of flame at him every time he tickled her.

"That's all I can do," Mazrogal conceded, flopping onto his side, wincing from the dull, throbbing ache slithering through his toes.

"I know," Zheradra said. There was no malice coating her words, but sympathy, and she proved it to him by rolling onto her belly and craning her neck to place a few comforting licks on the back of his paws. "I haven't heard of a dragon with your paws to attempt and emulate the massaging techniques of the bipeds, so I was quite surprised that you even tried."

Mazrogal tilted his head in bewilderment, accidentally knocking over Zheradra's snout. Before he had a chance to apologize, her tongue visited him between the nostrils, the female's flaming eyes sparkling with hidden intent.

"Remain in this position," she said as she pushed herself up onto her fours, circling him like a predator studying its cornered quarry. "Relax. Have I given reason to doubt me?"

More than a couple of times, actually. Mazrogal, however, respected her wish, allowing his wings to fall back as he exposed the white of his belly to her whims.

She settled onto her haunches by his head, guiding his head over her hind paws, so that her forepaws could have easy access to the sides of his neck and throat.

"Apologies for the claws, but I've been hatched into a family that cannot sheathe and unsheathe them at will."

There was no need for her to say that. Not when her pads provided him with that most exquisite caress. The warmth radiating through that silken tissue made the scales across which her toes traveled tingle in delight, and the smooth surface of the pads themselves allowed them to sail effortlessly from one side of his neck to the other. She could also grope, knead and stroke far better than he could, the short length of her toes giving her better control and precision over her motions.

Mazrogal lost himself in the delight brought by her caress. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift to his early days as a hatchling, when his mother bathed him in the same affection Zheradra's paws oozed.

"Mrrrrh," he thrummed in ecstasy, pushing his face against her pads, unwittingly shifting into the mindset of his hatchling self.

Zheradra responded with a purr of her own, carefully sliding her heel pads over his cheeks and eye ridges, doing her best to keep her claws at bay.

"This is the only time when you're allowed to act the part, for my family holds the caress ritual in high regards. It does not only help soothe the dragon we stroke, but also calms me as well. Our paw pads are highly sensitive, Mazrogal. Whether they groom or are groomed, it is always a delight to treat them as more than just feet, rrr?"

He rumbled in agreement, almost falling asleep under Zheradra's charm, had her paw not alighted upon the sensitive scales of his nostrils in such crude and jarring fashion. His eyes snapped open as he inhaled a deep breath of the earthen, grassy smells coating her pads, tongue lashing out to instinctively remove the pest off his nostrils. Instead, it greeted Zheradra's pads, which flared the dragoness' purr to a brighter hue.

"Your turn now," she said, removing her paw off his snout so that she could arch her neck downward and stare him straight in the eyes. "Your paws might not be as effective as mine, but your muzzle and tongue may yet redeem you."

Still dazed from his moment of euphoria, Mazrogal didn't even growl when his head flopped onto the grass as Zheradra shifted a few feet away from him to splay on her back, her hind paws pushed in his direction, toes wriggling in anticipation.

"It's far more difficult for me to access my hind paws, which is why I desire that you focus on them first."

She desired, did she? And what about his rest and relaxation? The toes of his forepaws protested as soon as he put weight on them, reminding him of the folly that overcame him.

He didn't outright dismiss her proposition, however. She mentioned the heightened sensitivity of her paw pads, and given how she twitched and tensed from a slow massage upon her scaled hide, then those soft, scale-less, vulnerable pads of hers would tickle far, far worse.

Fitting, that he should lure Zheradra into the same false sense of relaxation, only to rob her of it without any warning, just like she did by planting her paw right on top of his nose.

The thought of a possible way to get back at Zheradra for everything she had put him through so far made Mazrogal all the more eager to slather her paw pads with his slick saliva. The way her toes curled inward to grab at his tongue and demand more of the pleasant caress only served to fan the flames of his conviction. Given their texture, he did expect them to be vulnerable, yet not quite to the extent where Zheradra practically shuddered under the strokes of his tongue, with her tail tip twitching restlessly for more.

He nuzzled the groomed paw away, but stopped on the way to her other one, causing Zheradra's pupils to shrink in irritation.

"You led me to believe you quite enjoy this type of activity," she said, her frills folded at the prospect of forcing him to partake into a demeaning act.

"I do," Mazrogal said, reaching for her other hind paw, coiling his tongue across her heel pad, so he could drag her toes into his maw and slowly, gently suckle on them. Previously washed in the lake, her pads only bore the faint tang of earth and grass, along with the richer taste of pheromones. He found that particularly strange and stimulating, even more so when Zheradra's wings shuddered in their joints and her folds quaked as she undoubtedly imagined that same tongue grooming a different, more intimate part of her.

He pushed her drenched toes out of his maw, licking his snout to spread her pheromones over his nostrils and confirm his suspicion regarding them. Only, the pull of instinct was far stronger than he imagined, and it took Zheradra's joint paws to push him away as his snout reached for her femininity.

To compare his pheromone sample with that of her nethers, obviously, and not anything more.

"Perhaps you are not ready for this just yet," she said, slightly uncomfortable with the direction her request took for reasons Mazrogal couldn't fathom. Unlike his, her feet were so soft, and warm, and nice! Why would she not wish of him to groom her, given how much she enjoyed herself?

Nevertheless, he couldn't let her back away, lest his plan fell into ruins.

"I am ready and willing. It's just that..." he purposefully paused to add a naïve, uncertain growl that would surely mellow Zheradra down. "Your feet are quite different than mine. Not just the texture, but their taste. They--"

"Pheromones," Zheradra interrupted him. If Mazrogal could rely on something, it had to be the pride she took in teaching him everything she had to offer. "Because of the myriad of scents inhabiting the forest, my kind evolved different than yours. Our paw pads sweat when certain emotions run strong, such as fear or lust, providing my kin with an eloquent message to back away from a possible threat, or to follow the trail until they find me. Females also emit a constant stream of pheromones that informs prospective mates of our heat cycle. They grow stronger when the cycle nears, and fainter outside of it."

To a dragon without that particularity to worry about, the notion of a human and mammal-specific affliction present in his paws sounded a bit ridiculous to Mazrogal, yet the way Zheradra explained it carried a lot of weight. Not to mention the subtle taste, which was far less pungent compared to other types of grime that had clung to his scales in the past, or his seed for that matter.

"I find your paws intriguing, Zheradra," Mazrogal said as the dragoness attempted to pull her hind paws out of his reach, causing her to hesitate. "They provide a most pleasant caress, and it's the only area of yours that I can groom, aside of..."

She immediately shielded her slit with the flame-like tip of her tail, far too taken with the idea of paw grooming. Mazrogal could see it in her flexing toes that she had savored it greatly, and her wavering gaze hinted at a guilty pleasure that other dragons had denied her of.

"That is a crude thought, per your own words," she said, bringing her hind paws upon his neck to stroke his sinuous muscles, the claws of her toes scratching at his scales in such pleasant ways that Mazrogal found himself purring. "But if your tongue can handle my paws in the way you boasted, then I will find myself curious as to the other things it can do, if given proper directions," Zheradra purred invitingly.

Mazrogal allowed her to indulge in the success of her seductive tactics for a moment, waiting for the proper moment to catch her unawares. The more she stroked him, the more Zheradra's confidence swelled, her paws rounding his cheeks, toes trailing down his jaws, until they reached the tip of his muzzle to playfully rub at the sensitive scales there.

Mazrogal grabbed the culprit, holding it in his grasp as he ran his tongue across those black, silken pads. Zheradra's toes shuddered from the speed of his lick, yet they immediately spread to welcome his tongue in the harder to reach areas, like the crevices spanning between the bean-shaped pads. Mazrogal slipped the tip of his tapered tongue in there, only managing to brush the surface of that soft, leathery tissue before Zheradra drew her paw back as if stung.

A sly smirk formed on Mazrogal's muzzle as the opportunity he had been waiting for finally presented itself. "Sensitive, are you?"

"Says the one whose virgin cock would have unleashed its essence during the very first thrust, had it not been covered," Zheradra retorted, pressing her paw against the tip of his muzzle, never one to relent.

No need to rush. The best things in life required patience and preparation, and the more Zheradra denied the inbuilt weakness of her paws, the harder it would hit her when presented with proper proof of her folly. So, he returned his attention to the paw pads themselves, nibbling on their surface lightly with the tips of his fangs, even a small prickle enough to cause Zheradra's toes to protectively curl inward, as if to defend her vulnerable heel pad.

"That's quite pleasant," she obviously lied as she pawed at the small, sable colored blunt spike tipping his snout, as well as slipping the smaller spike adorning his chin between her toes to playfully grab it. "As are those spikes. Curious, how I only noticed them just now, when I found a use for them."

Mazrogal didn't mind that she rolled her toes, one by one, across his spikes. In fact, it made him feel a bit guilty, now that he was about to put an end to Zheradra's enjoyment.

"Remember what it took to finally convince me to accept your downright asinine plan?"

Her surprised growl in the face of a truth was quite charming. "My ingenious idea of cladding your cock in a seed holder while you mated me, just like you wanted?"

"That too," Mazrogal agreed as he grabbed each of her hind legs in his forepaws, his talons curling just under her heel pads to keep the most vulnerable part of her feet exposed to his mercy. "Yet I also promised that, should I ejaculate in that damnable contraption instead of loosening inside you--as is proper of a male dragon--then my claws would find their way to these delectable pads of yours."

"And I accepted," Zheradra said, utterly nonchalant at having her hind feet in a literal type of bind.

"You said that I'll squirm, writhe, squeak and squeal like a hatchling during their first tongue bath. Yet where is that humiliation you promised?" She teased, craning her neck, flaring her frills in challenge. "Because, so far, you've enjoyed my paws far more than I enjoyed your tongue, given that your pink has shown. Isn't that a clear sign of perverse excitement, my mate?"

That one, single word slithered far deeper under his scales than he expected, causing his lips to wrinkle into a snarl at its derogatory usage. "Are you certain?" he repeated the same question that he had asked of her the first time, intent on obtaining her approval before bringing much needed humility upon the haughty dragoness.

Zheradra didn't answer. Instead, she fanned the toes of her hind paws in open invitation for Mazrogal to do his worst.

"Have at it. Be it tongue, claws, tail tip, or one of those cute spikes you bear upon your snout, my paws are yours, to do with what you may. It is, after all, quite typical of you males to wish to subdue your mates in whatever unconventional means you concoct, so I am not at all surprised."

The soft, sensuous purr added at the end convinced Mazrogal to release her hind legs and shift onto his fours, giving Zheradra the opportunity to adopt whichever position she fancied. Not quite unexpected, the dragoness remained on her back, with both of her hind paws kneading at the silver plates of his chest, none at all concerned with the predicament she bounded head-first into.

"Very well. I considered choosing tongue to start with, but it shall be claws."

"Mrrrh, sounds delightfully stimulating. Claw prickles, followed by a tongue bath," Zheradra said, offering him a paw to grab as he settled back on his haunches. Once again, he caught her hind leg just under the pads, squeezing it tight enough to immobilize Zheradra's foot in place.

"Grrrrh," she growled at him. Not due to discomfort, but as a challenge, daring him to unleash everything he had on her paws.

Mazrogal lifted his free paw, flaunting a single digit, silver colored claw at the ready, the tip slightly worn from walking. It wouldn't draw blood from her pads, but it was enough to provide more discomfort than Zheradra anticipated. He knew, for his sister did the same to him, and his feet weren't nearly as receptive to touch as her pads due to the scales coating his heels.

He first started with the left-most toe, running the side of his claw around the edges, luring Zheradra into a false sense of security. Even now, with barely a touch, her dark claws still tensed, and her toes had the distinct urge to curl and rid themselves of that pesky stimuli.

Pleased with her initial reaction, Mazrogal switched to the surface of the toe, dragging his claw across it, both horizontally and vertically, causing Zheradra's leg to lightly jerk in his grasp. No sound of discomfort escaped her yet, other than a dissatisfied rumble.

"If your claws weren't as blunt as your horns, perhaps you might have achieved desired result, but as it stands, your chosen method of foreplay is so dull I might just fall asleep in the middle of it."

Her strong front convinced Mazrogal to skip past the prelude as he rushed his claw swiftly across the rest of her toes, causing them to bend inward from that jarring sensation. He wished he could have spent more time teasing those cute, dark ovals, but with Zheradra taunting him such, he had to resort to equally dirty tricks to keep her in place.

So, he dug the tip of his claw right in the middle of her heel pad, eliciting a sharp yelp from the previously apathetic dragoness. Her frills stood on end, and her tail smacked him over the neck for such impudence.

"That hurt!" She seized upon the most convenient of excuses to safeguard her dignity.

"It tickled," Mazrogal corrected her, "but you are free to check your paw if you believe otherwise."

"Hrmphf," the proud dragoness scoffed, jabbing her hind paw against his claws. "Do what you must, but if you draw blood, know that I'll repay your paws in kind."

"I accept," Mazrogal said, revisiting her heel pad a second time. He used a lighter touch this time around, exploring the surface of that soft, squishy tissue, noting how her paw jerked harder when he rounded the middle, and how it relaxed when he explored the lobe-like shapes making up the left and right side of her heel pad.

He started alternating the pressure, swishing his claw this way and that, adding a second and a third claw. If Zheradra's toes clenched and tensed at first, with her breath hitching in her throat as she withstood the chuckles trying to emerge from her throat, her pads now grew accustomed to his touch.

Or at least, the main surface did, for the edges remained unexplored, and they were oh so sensitive. The tissue there was softer, almost leathery, and as soon as Mazrogal dragged the tip of his claw across it, Zheradra's eyes bulged in their sockets, releasing a cute, high-pitched squeak. Mazrogal would have kept at it were it not for the other hind paw that kicked him away as her instinct to protect her paws took over, overriding her enduring pride.

"That, my dear, was a squeak," Mazrogal said, smugly stepping away from her. "I need no further proof that your paws are as dainty as they look, and that they are a delightfully soft part of you."

That was bound to get her fuming. Zheradra considered herself a dragon without flaws, devoid of any type of weaknesses that plagued the other, less fortunate of her kin. While she might accept her obvious vulnerabilities, like the leathery surface of her frills, wings and tail tip, she would never give this win to Mazrogal.

Not when his paws lacked the pads which made her feet so susceptible to any kind of touch, humiliating tickling included.

Zheradra perked her head, eyes aflame with determination to see this through. "Yes, you have taken me by surprise, but one chance dab of your claw at a vulnerable spot hardly encompasses what you said to me. I'm still not squirming, writhing and squealing like a hatchling, am I?"

Without even giving him a chance to reply, Zheradra drew upon her magic to summon forth earthen snakes that coiled around her haunches, the sleek creatures immediately turning dark and opaque, similar to burnt clay, once she hardened them into place, her magic fleeing them. Their heads stopped right in front of her heel pads, providing a convenient shielding against Mazrogal's claws. He might still be able to fumble about for a defenseless spot, but at the cost of Zheradra's mocking comments.

No. He had to find another way. A better way.

"You are taking this too far," he said, awe-struck by the refined control she held over her magic. "It was supposed to be a game, not a contest."

"It is what it is," Zheradra blew her flames at him in challenge. "If I am to lose, then it shall happen because my willpower faltered, and not because instinct got the better of me. My quick thinking also frees both of your forepaws, which makes this contest all the more delightful, mrr?"

"I..." Mazrogal paused, wings shifting uneasily on his back, his forepaw lifted halfway in hesitation. This was his chance to best her, to come out on top, to show her that she had a weakness he didn't possess. Only...he imagined this great victory quite differently in his head, absent the interference of magic.

A heavy sigh fled him as he regarded Zheradra with a resigned look. "This isn't what I expected. What I wanted."

"What about what I want, rrrr?" Zheradra shifted on her side, attempting to get up, only to growl at her own forgetfulness. So, she switched onto her back again, her wings and tail curled inward, her amber eyes smoldering with the embers of defiance.

"I had my fill of males who treat me as a defenseless female, constantly in need of licks and affection, a prize that should never be touched with anything but a tongue. I want to be a dragon in your eyes, Mazrogal, and anything other than that poses utter disrespect to me."

"What does this prove?" Mazrogal added thunder to his tone as well, stepping up to Zheradra to show her that he feared not the reach of her tail. "Do ticklish paws somehow make you lesser?"

"Not my paws, but your actions," she said as she tilted her head to the side, her frills drooping under the weight of bottled frustrations. "You made a promise, Mazrogal. A strange one, but a promise nonetheless."

He didn't mean it like that! And if he did at first, then her burning conviction consumed all of his desire to playfully tease her. She might have been intense and commanding back in the barn, but here...here, she was downright intimidating to a young drake such as him. She was far stronger and craftier than he expected, to the point where he almost felt embarrassed for spilling his unworthy seed inside her.

Her momentary distraction gone, Zheradra's attention shifted back to him, the dragoness' pupils thin, just like her patience. "I expect you to keep true to your word. If I do not find myself begging you to stop, then I shall deem you unworthy of my companionship and will fly away in search of another male. Hopefully one that isn't intimidated by a challenge as stupid as this one."

Frozen needles pierced through every scale on Mazrogal's body at the prospect of being abandoned by Zheradra over such a trivial matter. It could have been a bluff. Had to be. She wouldn't discard everything that had happened between them simply because he refused to comply with her asinine request, right?

....Right?

As if smelling his deplorable doubt oozing from him, Zheradra growled her challenge at him, all of her protracted claws aiming at him. "If tickling my paws seems too farfetched to you, then I am certain you're the type of male who would lose every wrestling game, give up at every aerial race, and even avoid inflicting a mating bite upon my neck for fear of upsetting me."

"Fine!" Mazrogal roared, his extended, menacing wings immediately tucking to his sides, his submissive instinct immediately chiding him for standing up to a stronger, more dangerous dragon. It took all of his strength to keep his head from sinking to the floor and maintain eye contact with Zheradra, a feat that appeased the bound dragoness enough for her growl to simmer down into a purr.

"This is a start," she said, wriggling the toes of her hind paws eagerly, ready to put her self-control to what she undoubtedly considered the ultimate test. "Proceed. You can either keep your word and put your claws to my paws, as promised, or lick my pads and beg for clemency as the young, timid drake that you are. Which shall it be, Mazrogal?"

Her aggravating trill at the end sealed her fate, as did her haughtiness. At the back of his mind, Mazrogal was well aware that Zheradra resorted to the vilest of teasing to get her point across, yet his wounded dignity responded first by shifting him into motion, positioning him on his haunches before her defenseless hind paws.

With both of her paws at the mercy of his claws, Zheradra wasn't quite as resilient as before, especially when Mazrogal shifted his attention to the upper parts of her heel pads, the only ones visible behind the heads of the coiled earthen snakes. She must have considered herself quite savvy to protect that part of her paws, but all that Mazrogal had to do was rest the tip of his toes on the heads of the snakes and swish them from side to side, the tips of his curved claws scratching and teasing the edge of each of her heel pads.

Zheradra's constant rumble began to break into sporadic growls that attained a higher pitch with every movement of his paws. He made sure to keep the pressure low, so that the tips of his claws barely grazed the sensitive tissue, thus make the tickling all the more infuriating for her.

"Hraaaaahhhhh!" Zheradra roared, more in exasperation than anything. Though she tried her best to keep her wings from fluttering too noticeably, her haunches tensed, pulled and pushed against her bindings, toes constantly curling, flexing and spreading, trying every range of motion possible to grip and eliminate the source of that jarring sensation.

"Do you relent?"

Zheradra met Mazrogal's proposition with a roar, her eyes moist with the effort to withstand his vile ministrations. Part of him wanted to cease this foolishness right now, but his other half relished the opportunity to humble her, even more so when she purposefully requested it.

The stakes too high to give up, Mazrogal grabbed one of her paws, just under the toes, applying enough pressure for them to spread lightly and show the crevices running between her pads. Unlike the back of her paws, the frailer tissue there bore no scales, no scratches. It was so smooth, so unblemished that Mazrogal grinned at the mere thought of putting a claw to it.

And once he did that, Zheradra's reaction was immediate. Although he simply rounded the toe of a single paw, the dragoness began to squirm wildly in her fetters, her forepaws lashing out at the grass, wings flapping violently, tail thrashing wildly. And her roar! Or better said, yowl. Mazrogal had never heard anything quite like it, and if it heralded her impending submission, then he might as well seize the advantage.

His claw traveled between each toe, gently poking and scratching, alternating his choice depending on the intensity of Zheradra's squirming and increasingly desperate laughter.

"Rrrah rrah rrah rrah!" the dragoness' endurance poured out of her bit by bit, the frills adorning her head shuddering in unison with her exposed, defenseless toes. Tears began running down her ruddy scales, her frame freezing still every few moments, as if all of her focus poured on withstanding the relentless tickling to the best of her abilities.

Yet that never lasted for long, and without her clear sign of surrender, Mazrogal had no choice but increase the speed and breadth of his strokes, Zheradra's erratically clenching toes acting more in his advantage than against him. The claws of her hind toes just didn't have the strength to pierce the scales protecting the back of his paws, and every time they folded, they rendered her soft skin even more vulnerable to his tickling.

"Hhrrahrahrah, sraaah rah rah!" She laughed wildly, preferring to hold onto her pride than give in. Breathless and squirming from every joint, the dragoness was almost pushed to the brink, and with the instinctive reactions of her toes memorized, Mazrogal could comfortably shift his attention to the other paw as well, sneaking a single claw between the toes of each hind paw, each scraping the bottom of those crevices gently, like the silky touch of a feather.

Zheradra didn't even laugh, for she no longer had the strength to do so. Instead, her breath fled her in a sharp, ear-splitting roar, her wings folding to her sides as she resorted to rolling from side to side in panicked attempts to dislodge herself from the bindings of her own making. Her toes flared and thrashed, scratching at Mazrogal's paws madly, yet never finding the firm purchase that his claws did upon that most sensitive tissue. He poked and prodded at it, chuckling in unison with her thinning squeals, the sounds more befitting of a hatchling than an adult dragon.

And still, she didn't submit.

His claws retreated, giving her paws a blissful moment of reprieve, her shaken toes trembling from the aftermath of those torturous tickles. Zheradra's nictitating membranes blinked back the tears from her drenched eyes as her pupils regained their sharpness and clarity, her maw parted wildly to suck in deep, panting breaths.

"It's over," Mazrogal said, placing a comforting lick on her pads. Her toes instinctively shied from his touch, drawing an amused growl from him as they settled into his soothing touch once she considered his tongue safe, and not a threat.

"You....you lost," Zheradra said between her slowly recovering breaths. "I didn't beg."

"Yet you have squirmed, writhed, squeaked and squealed like a hatchling during their first tongue bath, which means my point has been proven," Mazrogal said.

"Yet I didn't beg, which also means my willpower is stronger than yours, a male who took pity on me instead of seizing the advantage. That is..." she let out a long, drawn-out exhale. "Disappointing."

This time, her words didn't make their way under his scales, for the earthen snakes were still in place, suspending her paws before his looming snout, her pads completely defenseless against his tongue. If Zheradra assumed that all that his tongue could do was lick, then she was sorely mistaken.

Mazrogal made her aware of her folly as he abruptly, without warning, slipped the tapered tip of his tongue between her toes, rolling it side to side, up and down, giving no respite to her trembling toes. Her laughter exploded out of her as sudden as Mazrogal's attack on the receptive tissue lining the chasms of her toes, raw and desperate. The entirety of her frame quaked under his onslaught, every muscle in her body twisting and turning, intent of escaping this most terrible of traps.

The young drake grinned at her violent squirming, well aware of how annoying his tongue tip must have been. Compared to his claws, the extra slickness of his saliva, together with the added warmth, overstimulated the leathery tissue meant to alert the dragoness of foreign particles that snuck between her pads. So, he made sure to travel between each pair of toes in quick succession, poking, licking, and tickling the bottom nestled between them, his own rumbling laughter adding to Zheradra's thunderous one.

The way her toes fanned and folded, twitched and jerked, denoted her anguish at being utterly unable to rid herself of the pesky appendage. No matter how strongly she flapped her wings, or how hard her tail whipped at his body, Mazrogal's tongue remained between her toes, an omnipresent pest that slowly drove her to the point of madness.

"Hraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!" Zheradra's roared turned into a high-pitched whine, her breath almost spent from this ordeal. To make this worse for her, Mazrogal visited her other paw with a claw, slipping it almost effortlessly between her toes to visit that most familiar discomfort upon the bottom of her paws.

Zheradra's body immediately arched forward, her forepaws desperately clawing at Mazrogal's wrists, her intermittent laughter broken by the occasional squeak and squeal whenever Mazrogal hit a sweet spot. Her wings fluttered in unison with her shuddering frills, tears streaming down her cheeks from her tightly shuttered eyes.

"Hreeeee, stop, stop, reeeeeh!" She barely managed through her cacophonous shrills, twisting and curling this way and that as her previous attempt to dislodge Mazrogal failed.

Mazrogal slipped his tongue back into his maw, employing the claw of his left paw in its stead as he teasingly said to Zheradra, "And yet, you didn't beg."

"Hreeeeh, beg, beg! Beg to stop!"

He stopped as soon as that delicious word reached his ears, shifting back onto his haunches, draping a wing over his grinning muzzle to muffle his satisfaction, as well as his chuckles at the enormously deep breath Zheradra sucked in. Without even waiting to recover, she forced the snakes to crumble into fine dust, curling into a ball to lap at her paws with swift, desperate strokes of her tongue.

"Let me do the licking," Mazrogal offered, now that the game was over. "You can barely breathe."

Her eyes darted to him, burning with pride rather than malice. Without saying anything, she crashed onto her side, tongue lolling to the side of her maw, panting as if she had flown from one end of the world to the other in just a day.

Mazrogal barely made it to her hindquarters before Zheradra jabbed a paw at his snout, her wary toes shuddering as soon as his tongue welcomed them.

"I won't do this to you again," he promised, ill at ease with how she acquired the tendency to jerk away from his touch whenever he attempted to soothe the more vulnerable parts of her foot, like the top of her heel pad or the over sensitive tissue lining the space between her toes.

"At least not to this extent," Zheradra added as her second paw joined in to stroke at his neck and jawline. "I..." she paused for a moment to calm her breath and to swallow back the bitterness of her defeat, most likely.

"I've enjoyed this defeat." Both of her paws landed on his snout, toes clenching around him to keep him from speaking before she finished. "You can't win every contest, Mazrogal. And even if you do, what joy is there in victory if you never know its opposite? Never again shall I permit you to abuse my paws such, yet I am certain we'll find other means to test both of our wills, mrrrh!"

Her rumble of satisfaction made Mazrogal's heart swell in his chest, encouraging him to skip the prelude and drag her toes into his maw with the help of his tongue, suckling on her fleshy pads with great gusto.

"Rrrrrrrrrrh," Zheradra's throat thrummed with audible ecstasy, the red dragoness fluttering her wings lightly and rolling her neck in the grass playfully. "I wouldn't have abandoned you. In fact, I would have satisfied any of your curiosities--mating without a seed holder strapped to your malehood included--if you chose to spare me the humiliation. But just like in my case, your victory is one of a different nature, which makes it all the more exciting!"

Mazrogal gently coaxed her paw out of his maw to nuzzle into her pads affectionately. "I prefer to work for my rewards. It's part of my male charm," he said, switching to her other paw to provide proper demonstration.

"Stubbornness, more like," Zheradra corrected, her back arching slightly, tail swishing through the grass at an accelerated pace due to the slow, long, fulfilling dashes of Mazrogal's tongue across the entirety of her paw. "Yet I welcome it nonetheless. It is....mrrh...refreshing to spend time with a shy yet determined male."

Zheradra's paws became more brazen, her cute, stubby toes curling against his tongue, slipping into his maw, playing with his fangs. Her demeanor changed as well, all of her previous rigidity fleeing her, leaving behind a dragoness who swirled and twisted in the grass, who pawed at the air and curled her tail around each haunch like a veritable hatchling.

Eager to see how far he could push her, Mazrogal settled on his haunches to free his forepaws. Then, he grabbed each of Zheradra's hind legs in each forepaw so that he could press their sides against each other. This way, all of her paw pads were at his disposal, to nuzzle and lick seamlessly.

Armed with the knowledge of which spots she enjoyed having groomed, Mazrogal visited each of them in turn, employing softer, careful touches so as to avoid tickling the dragoness. He curled his tongue around each toe, suckling them in turn, and at the end, he slipped the tapered tip between them slowly, giving Zheradra enough time to acclimate to his touch before he dragged it along the smooth leather lining her toe crevices. For her bigger, meatier heel pads, he opted for licking them simultaneously through back and forth horizontal dashes of his tongue. Their upper slopes were more responsive to his ministrations, so he insisted on them, causing Zheradra's toes to spread to their limits in her hunger to have every area of her paw slathered in his liquid affection.

The more he kept at it, the more restless the red dragoness became. Her fretting form was only a speckle of blurred reds, yellows and orange at the periphery of his vision, his focus dominated by the coal-black beans tipped by claws and the bigger, broader pad underneath them. At first, he didn't fully appreciate the warmth and smoothness of her pads, but after caressing them with snout and tongue alike, Mazrogal became downright fascinated with how pleasant they felt to the touch. No spot on his body had that squishy feel to it, nor had he ever enjoyed a grooming session as much as Zheradra did.

In fact, her delight became so obvious, that Mazrogal immediately ceased his affection the moment his nostrils inhaled the sweet fragrance that could only be her arousal. His tail instinctively wrapped across his hindquarters, yet without a leathery, flame-shaped tip like Zheradra's to cover it, his pink became more and more obvious to her playful gaze.

"Admit it, Mazrogal. I wasn't the only one who imagined your tongue in a...different place of my body," she said before rolling onto her back, haunches spread to the sides so that she could flaunt the translucent webs that formed between her slightly puffy and soggy lips.

Mazrogal didn't answer. He couldn't even bring his wings about to cover his half-spilled member due to the enrapturing nature of her femininity. With the sun bearing down on her, the unblemished smoothness of the scaleless isle that surrounded her genital slit became all too apparent, filling his mind with but one dire, desperate thought.

That of tasting her lush nectar upon the tip of his cock, and maybe more if she allowed it.

Zheradra must had noticed his long gaze, for she rolled onto her limbs, carefully avoiding the grass strands from touching her sex. "I think I shall let you decide what happens next," she warbled alluringly, strolling forward to put more distance between them, tail flicking back and forth to give him intermittent glimpses of what she had to offer.

The young male's nostrils flared at the pungent scent filling his nostrils; it stirred him in all the right ways, its exquisite touch rousing his numb senses. He followed the graceful form of the dragoness intently, pacing around her, then encouraging her to lie down with a brush of his side against hers. As he wove around her hindquarters, the young male dipped his head under her tail to lick at her smooth lips, hissing from the prickly touch of her juices. He wanted nothing more than eat her out right there and then, but pulled back just in time before excitement got the better of him.

Something felt wrong. Zheradra wouldn't lure him into such an obvious ploy. Although she took the sanctity of mating far more lightly than Mazrogal, a dragoness with a penchant for mounting her male desired more than the plainest, most obvious position to mate.

And yet, Zheradra leaned forward, forelegs positioned on the ground, hindquarters raised high in the air, her hind legs spread to give him complete access to the most prized spot of her body. Her wet, slick, puffy lips parted in unison with the motion of her haunches, gooey strings forming between them, marring the view of her inviting insides.

A sharp, instinctive whine left the young male, the bittersweet tang mixed with earthy flavors carried by the wind to his nostrils. He drank deep of her scent, his member growing harder and harder in unison with the thundering beats of his frenzied heart, the sight of those smooth, pink, scaleless lips opening before him almost overwhelming his senses.

Zheradra arched her tail across her back, further extending the visibility of her nether depths that longed for his tongue, or cock, or both.

"I'm waiting for you, Mazrogal," she purred enticingly, wagging her rump at him.

The sound of his name emboldened the young dragon, causing his fully erect cock to tense up and slap against his belly as his mind immediately raced at the thought of how it would feel to pierce this lovely female with his bare, uncovered cock. He gritted his teeth to muffle the pathetic moan elicited by that jarring sensation deep in his throat, puffing out his chest, shifting around to try and hide his almost fully engorged knot from her. If he was to truly mate with her, then he wanted to do it as a proud and proper male, guided by desire, not mindless lust.

To show Zheradra just that, he slowly, cautiously stepped up to her rump, a breath hold in his breast to avoid inhaling her intoxicating miasma and lose himself to his burning instinct to mate. Uncomfortable as it was to sit with a raging erection, Mazrogal did just that, biting back the cringing sensation of having his knot and ridges poked at by the blades of grass.

Zheradra's frills flared in shock at the decision he took. "What are you doing?" she demanded, lowering her tail halfway, only to lift it back up again as Mazrogal's forepaws alighted on her haunches, stroking them tenderly.

"Massaging you," he said, flaunting a frail, uncertain smile. "Easing the tension out of your muscles. Soothing away the stiffness from earlier. Helping you get ready for....me," he added when his mind turned blank. What more could he say to her? Better yet; what else should he tell to the first female who offered herself to him? Thank her for the opportunity? Proclaim his affection for her?

Mazrogal preferred to let the motion of his paws speak in his stead, the practiced kneading and flow of his movement causing Zheradra's frills to slowly lie back in spite of her narrow eyes that heralded her ominous thoughts.

Still, Mazrogal continued to grip and stroke, rub and fondle portions of her strong muscles as her tail coiled about his neck. Zheradra's purr rose, higher and higher, causing his heart to swell in his chest. She enjoyed it! She might have had her doubts, but his plan actually worked!

Until her tail pulled to the side with such immense force that Mazrogal's whole world spun. It happened so fast that, whatever pained sound he wanted to make, and whatever discomfort he felt, were rendered redundant compared to the sight of Zheradra straddling him, or those swollen, moist, dripping folds descending upon his snout. Her lips kissed his muzzle with wet, fiery passion, distending around him to swallow the tip of his muzzle until all he could smell was her potent fragrance.

"Take a good look," she said to Mazrogal as she lifted off him, leaving his muzzle drenched in arousal. "Do I not seem ready, you bumbling buffoon?"

Her words barely registered to the stunned, awe-struck male, whose only response to her question was to roll his tongue along his muzzle in quick, desperate strokes to both clear his nostrils off her maddening scent and swallow as much of her honey as possible.

"Perhaps you need another close look."

He only caught a glimpse of her sly smirk before he found the tip of his muzzle once again smothered by her passionate embrace. Without being given a proper chance to breathe, Mazrogal inhaled the strong, fragrant, humid smells of her gender instead, his knot turning so hard from the unbearable stimuli, that he shot a string of precum into the air.

"Careful there," Zheradra said, her forepaw pressing his member forward, tilting it away from her. "Just bathed, remember?"

She playfully rocked against his muzzle, rubbing the smooth flesh coating the interior of her lips against his nostrils and twin muzzle horns, using them as a reference to decide how deep she wanted to invite Mazrogal into the core of her being.

Her pussy holding him prisoner in the most delightful and fascinating of ways, and with the delightfully smooth pads of her forepaw caressing his length, Mazrogal didn't expect to get so hard, to the point where his member actually ached. He began throbbing with renewed desire, her smell and taste a feast for his young, inexperienced mind in the ways of mating. Mazrogal began to shove his muzzle against her folds, his forceful pushes accompanied by terse brushes of his nose against her lips in an attempt to stimulate her to the best of his abilities. His tongue rolled within her depths, slipping through those taut muscles, caressing them with his gentle strokes. He tried nibbling at her fleshy folds with his lips, applying slight pressure upon them while his paws trapped the base of her tail between them, kneading at it harder and faster with each panting breath he took.

Zheradra growled and whined and trembled from all her joints, taken aback by how receptive Mazrogal turned out to be to what should have been another of her games. He grew to full mast faster than she expected, his knot already engorged, the ridges underlining his member taut and ready, as if he was just about to shoot his seed. That alone had her mind reeling in pleasure, one of her hind paws descending on the upper parts of his muzzle, then up to his cheeks, stroking through his soft scales before landing her hind paw on the top of his head, kneading at it gently, encouragingly.

When Mazrogal refused to heed her cue at speeding up his pace, she replaced her paw with the coiled grip of her tail, with which she could easily drag him against her pussy or away from it, depending on her preferences. Zheradra went for the former, digging his muzzle into that soppy slit, his twin horns almost slipping inside her due to the copious amounts of lubrication she produced. With tingles of elation creeping through every scale of her body at having such utter control over the kind male that did his utmost to please her, Zheradra whipped her head back and roared out loudly enough to alert any creatures nearby with the sounds of pure draconic lust.

Her cries of unbridled lust were music to Mazrogal's ears. After experiencing his first orgasm with her aid, Mazrogal was determined to bestow the same pleasure upon her, a feeling so intense that her whole frame would quake under its might. The touch of her claws against his cheeks made Mazrogal's purr fluctuate with various pitches, the young dragon's scales tingling from the loving touch of such a gorgeous dragoness. As her tug pushed his muzzle further into her sex, Mazrogal began to squirm, his own member throbbing with unspent lust, stoked by the blanket of juices sticking to her spasming walls.

After taking a deep breath, Mazrogal shoved his muzzle against her slit, digging his nose into it, feeling her muscles engulf him like a lover's embrace. His tongue having access to her deeper and more sensitive parts, the young dragon's efforts to bring her over the edge acquired a quick, desperate pace, his nimble appendage wriggling within her delicate sanctuary, caressing and brushing every inch of her juice covered flesh.

All the while, his paws groped at her tail. He maneuvered around her length, clutching it between his toes, stroking its pink, sensitive base up and down, slow and steady.

"Rrrrf!" Zheradra growled as his muzzle penetrated her vent. His lips slipped between her lips for the umpteenth time, soaking them instantly. The dragoness's lust forced her to roll her hips against him, mounting his snout as she would a member, dragging the length of her sex across the soft scales lining Mazrogal's muzzle. Her labored breath grew louder as her chest rose and fell quicker, each gasp accompanied by a lustful hiss, claws and frills twitching, her eyelids drooping over her fiery pools as she savored everything that Mazrogal had to offer.

Zheradra's roar chocked in her throat as the sudden climax hit her harder than both dragons expected. Her tail curled around Mazrogal's forepaws, holding them still as her juices exploded all over his snout in short, strong, sudden jets. Each spray was accompanied by the spasms of her muscles that clenched around his snout, over and over again. Then, suddenly, the tremors turned into a tight, demanding squeeze, milking Mazrogal's muzzle and tongue, giving him surprising insight into how the female anatomy sought to drain every single drop of seed out of a male's member. It was a horrible tease as to how this would feel, had his member been inside Zheradra instead of his snout, yet Mazrogal relished every second of this new, fascinating experience

Zheradra squirmed a little as she enjoyed this nice and long, pent up orgasm, female juices soaking Mazrogal's face, leaking down his arms, trailing down his neck and chest.

With his senses strained to their limits by a dragoness who had just climaxed over his face, his own member bloated to refuse with unspent seed. Never had a female gripped him with such tight and enthusiastic clenches, the way her muscles cupped his muzzle making the young dragon's purr deepen in his throat. He held his breath a while longer, the tip of his tapered tongue tickling her most sensitive and intimate of depths, enough to coax another sudden yet equally strong wave of potent female juices.

This time, Zheradra barely gave him the chance to savor her. Although her quaking muscles still leaked rivulets of delicious honey, the dragoness focused her efforts on helping Mazrogal achieve the peak of his pleasure as well, the pads of her forepaw rushing up and down his member, stroking and kneading at his tip, ridges and knot, eventually settling on the latter when Mazrogal's wings buffeted her, a guttural moan rippling through his throat.

His sweet spot discovered, Zheradra gradually increased the pressure the pads of her paw applied to his knot, her toes tilting his member forward, towards his tail, so that she wouldn't get any of his cream on her pristine scales.

The young dragon instantly tensed up, filled by sudden euphoria from the way her paw pressed down upon his malehood. She felt every little throb against her pads, and, much as she wanted to just squeeze his knot, Zheradra couldn't. She wanted to enjoy him--no, she had to enjoy him!

So, she began stroking and gripping his tip spaded tight between her toes, intent on adding the much-needed stimulation to enkindle his release, working him up to the point of no return.

Mazrogal's forepaws grabbed a foreleg and a hindleg in their rush to seize something, his claws digging into her scales as a thin, guttural moan rippled through his throat. His muzzle trapped between Zheradra's folds, all that Mazrogal managed was a short whine as his cock lurched against the paw pressing down on it repeatedly, each wild swing sending arcs of thick, creamy dragon seed into the air.

His moans amplified when Zheradra's paw switched to the top of his member, cradling his overly sensitive spade, kneading at it forcefully despite the seed splattering upon it.

Her paw shivered every time his seed burst into the depth of her pads, coating them with the color of love and affection that had been too long denied to her. Despite the ticklish sensation, Zheradra kept massaging his length, squeezing the seed out of his pulsating flesh as his muzzle continued to shove into her vent, encouraged by the slick warmth that engulfed him from every side.

Once his climax subsided to a manageable level, Mazrogal drew his muzzle out of her clenching depths, gasping for breath as he looked at her with half closed eyes, her juices dribbling down his cheeks and chin.

"Did...did I..."

Zheradra lifted her messy paw, gooey droplets falling off her pads to pelt the silver plating of his underbelly. "Not over me, thankfully, otherwise I'd have asked for a tongue bath."

Mazrogal made a wry face at the mere thought of ingesting all that thick, lukewarm, hard to swallow seed off her scales, at which Zheradra warbled in amusement. "It doesn't taste that bad," she said, shaking her head in disappointment. "You males are so squeamish."

As if her words weren't enough, she brought her seed-soaked paw to her snout, sniffing, then licking at that cream slowly, elaborately, watching Mazrogal from the corner of her eyes.

Mazrogal didn't fall into that trap. If she wanted to clean herself, so be it, but she'd do so with his help as well. His forepaws reached for the top of her haunches, dragging her pussy in front of his snout, so that his tongue could roll along that moist, sweltering flesh in every way that he wanted.

Zheradra's tail lifted upward, her legs spreading further apart to force her lips to open and give him access to the rosy flesh lining that marvelous tunnel of hers.

"And yet, you're so endearing," she added to her earlier thought, her shuddering lips once again sharing that most intimate of kisses with him.

***End of chapter 2***

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