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The crunching of freshly-fallen snow under his paws. The huffing of his breath as the muscles of his hinds and thighs burned with exertion they'd never been pushed to before. The occasional sting--sharp and painful--from his bound wings and abused slit. Caristos tried to focus on the little things as he made the long, arduous trek up the mountain slope; a crumbling trail winding toward the cliff set near the peak eased his climb somewhat, but the drake wondered for a moment how long it had been since the path had been used. If he didn't keep his thoughts narrowed to a pinpoint, they might begin to wander. If his thoughts began to wander, he might begin to really consider his situation--his body bound, his wings and drakehood taken from him, and his being prepped to be offered in its entirety to his brother Caltoras. And if he really stopped to consider his situation--becoming his elder brother's slave and cumdump; his broodmare--then he might start having second thoughts about it.

A pinch shot from his folded wing membranes up the limb and then back down into his spine. The rivets were tight on there, and the cold metal was starting to irritate the raw piercings in the sensitive flesh. And the leather belts and chains underneath the sheaths were chafing a little bit against his scales; not enough to be too unpleasant, but enough to be a constant presence in the back of his mind. Caristos grunted and stretched the limbs as much as they could be in the bindings--which was nearly not at all, they were so tight--and hissed as the dull ache renewed itself. If he could stretch his wings, spread them open to catch the chilly updrafts roaring in his ears and echoing off the stone cliffs, he could probably return to his brother much more quickly.

No. Don't think about it.

His thoughts turned to the older drake waiting for him at the end of the trail; Caltoras, his brother. His larger, stronger, handsome older brother; the male's shining red scales and the firm musculature flexing and bulging underneath, the arc of his horns, and the span of his wings. Caristos had always admired his elder sibling, even when he had found himself an unwilling participant in Caltoras' games back when they were hatchlings; wrestling with and being pinned by his brother, and then being forced to praise the older drakeling even as Caltoras' rump ground down on his snout.

It was no wonder that he'd developed an attraction to the other male. The feeling of their scales brushing together, and the weight of a larger, stronger drake atop him. The flash of fire in his brother's eyes and the wide, toothy, smug grin on the older dragon's face as words of worship were forced--poured eagerly--from Caristos' throat. And the smell--the musk, thick and only growing thicker and more pungent as he matured--of a virile drake from between Caltoras' hinds and under his tail curling into the younger brother's nose and staining Caristos' lungs every moment the two were near each other. The smell he'd begun to furtively seek out, carefully pushing his snout against the slumbering older drake's rump as they lay curled together in their dam's nest. The smell that had sparked the first flames of arousal in his drakehood, and had fed the inferno of his lust over the centuries of his fantasizing about lying with--being rutted and being bred by--the other male.

Now, those fantasies were coming true. He'd presented himself for Caltoras--had felt his older brother's breath and paws on his drakehood and rump--and seen--heard in the drake's rumbling growls of arousal--Caltoras' reciprocal interest. He'd seen, smelled, tasted Caltoras' marking, and had felt it splattering and staining his scales; even now, after his trek down and back up the mountain and everything that had happened between, the rich stink of drake piss clung to him. He'd begged to lay with the other male, and Caltoras had accepted; there were a few things that needed to be done first, but once Caristos returned he would be his brother's--not mate, but close enough--breeding partner. He'd feel Caltoras' drakehood on and in him, filling him with potent seed, and would carry and birth the older drake's clutch. It was everything that he had ever wanted, and all it cost was his wings and his own drakehood.

No, don't think about it.

Speaking of, Caristos paused to lift one of his hinds and glance at his crotch. He could see his twin shafts still bobbing and throbbing, hard and erect; forced out of his slit and held in their aroused, bared state by the iron rods that were sunk deep into each length and secured within him by the still-stinging piercings at each tip. His precum had dribbled out around the rods in his urethras and coated the cold metal; strangely, the gems upon each piercing were still completely clean. Caristos felt the heat under the scales of his cheeks as he watched his cocks twitch in the cold air; they were small, pathetic, not worthy of being called a drakehood. And when the piercings were enchanted, his members would be held--locked--in his slit and kept out of the way. His pleasure would depend wholly and completely upon the other male's whims; the whims of any male for whom he would eagerly lift his tail.

He thought about the blacksmith, Tristan. He thought about the villagers who had stared in derision--lust?--as he walked, shamefully erect and exposed and bound--along their streets. He thought about the thrice-damned blue who had stolen his territory--who had started all of this--and shuddered. In the heat of the moment, thoughts of submission had felt completely natural; fantasies of hiking up his hips and tail to present himself, taking any malehood--draconic or lesser--that was shoved into his maw or back passage, had filled his mind and made him drunk with lust. But now a heavy boulder of humiliation hung in his gut; no it was a lump of coal that provided fuel for the fire in his loins. He loved this. He hated it. He wanted it. He wanted to tear the bindings off of his wings, take flight, and find some remote spit of land--perhaps far to the desolate North--where he could carve out a bit of territory to spend the rest of his centuries in exile.

Caristos froze as his paws took him to the cliff outside his brother's lair. He shivered as he looked to the open, hungry maw of the older drake's cave. As the high of his arousal began to fade and the reality of his situation began to settle in, he thought about it.

His wings were bound, tight and constricted and held against his spine by the leather cover and the belts and chains underneath. His drakehood had been manhandled, pierced in more ways than one, and would soon be enchanted to stay within his slit; perhaps permanently, should Caltoras wish it. Never again would he fly, or have his own territory, or stand proud as a crimson drake; Caristos would forever be marked as his brother's property; a breeding bitch, the older dragon had called him. And the fact that some part of him--a part that had slumbered all his life, only occasionally stirring, and now rose to the surface of his mind to move his limbs and body at every direction from Caltoras--didn't mind this turn of events--eagerly pounced upon his draconic pride to pin it down, kicking and thrashing and roaring in protest--shook the dragon to his core.

"You're back." The words, low and rumbling and sending a twitch through his rump and tail, broke Caristos out of his thoughts. A shadow deep within the cave shifted, stepped forward, and resolved into the form of his brother; Caltoras of Speartip Peak. Under the other male's heavy gaze, Caristos could only lower his eyes to the snowy ground and nod.

"Yes, brother."

"Good boy." The echo of Tristan's words--the words the half-drake had murmured and huffed throughout their 'fitting session' and everything that had happened after--fanned the flames burning in Caristos' cheeks and between his hinds. He could hear the crunching of the snow and stone under Caltoras' own paws as his brother stepped to the mouth of the cave, sat on his haunches, and gave him an expectant stare. "Well? Get over here so I can get a good look at you."

"Yes, brother." Caristos' body was moving to obey the command before his mind even registered the words. He padded toward the other dragon, shameful and so very aroused, and stood still while Caltoras looked him over. He could see fire in the older drake's eyes--the way Caltoras' tongue flicked out over his chops at the sight of the younger drake bound and helpless--and smell his brother's rich, cloying, pungent scent in the clean air. Caristos' eyes slipped closed, and he breathed in deep to calm his racing heart and sparking nerves.

"Adequate. Very adequate." A tug on one of the thick, tight leather covers. A nip on the tip of one or two of his wing-digits. A low, considering, rumbling hum. "I knew I could trust the smith to do good work." Caltoras nodded in satisfaction. "Try to break out of them."

"I-I can't, Caltoras-"

A growl cut the younger drake off. "When Master gives you an order, you obey it. Try to break out of your wing bondage, little drakeling. Struggle, and show how weak and pathetic you are."

'Master'; was that what his brother was to him now? The word tingled down Caristos' spine to settle under his tail, which hiked up a little bit under Caltoras' gaze. "Yes, brother." A heavy gulp. "M-Master." He flexed. He strained. He pulled and tried to spread his wings open as much as he could. But the leather belts, the chains locked over them, and the sheath over the entire contraption keeping his wings bound in place couldn't be budged, no matter how Caristos snarled and grunted. "I-I can't. Tris- the smith said it would probably be... p-permanent."

"Did he now?" With a cruel smirk, Caltoras' forepaw grasped one of the bound limbs and tugged on it. Caristos hissed as pain shot along the length of his wing into his shoulder. "What, are a few little piercings enough to ground you forever, little brother?"

Caristos whined at another tug, wincing as the movement pulled on the piercings. "It can... probably be taken off. So Tristan said." He winced and snarled at the pain sparking into his spine as his wings were forced against the bindings keeping them trapped. "P-please... will you take it off, brother? If I'm good and... play along with all this?"

"'Play along'?" A low rumble of laughter that sent the bottom of Caristos' stomach dropping out. "Oh no, little brother, we're 'playing' for keeps." A slow, firm pull. "Trying to break these rivets would only tear your wing membranes even further, now that they've been pierced. Perhaps even rip them straight up to the knuckle." A sharp yank. "Your wings were gone the moment the first hole was made. Now that the metal is hooked within them, it cannot be removed. Ever." A groan of agony from Caristos as the older drake allowed the limb to settle back in its place. "So it's better to keep these bindings on, yes? We don't want to destroy them any more than they already are, do we?"

Destroyed. The word sent a bolt of fear through the younger dragon, and he could only answer with a weak, pathetic-sounding whine.

"How sad, the poor little breeding bitch will never fly again..." Another sneering laugh. Another tug. Another whimper from deep within Caristos' chest as his brother teased him; the older drake had the tendency to take things one step too far ever since they were young, but this viciousness was enough to send Caristos reeling. "Now then... where are the schematics?"

"Here..." With a soft groan and a sniffle, Caristos turned himself--pulled his wings away from Caltoras, pressing them tight to his sides even in the bondage--to offer the scrolls in his own forepaws to his brother. He knew what the other dragon had in mind, and--shame and arousal still swirling in his gut even as after his brother's declaration--Caristos lowered himself down to press his chest to the ground. Once more, his hinds spread wide. Once more, his hips and tail hiked up high. Once more, Caristos presented himself for another male like a female ready to be bred, baring both his taut, twitching pucker and the firm lengths hanging from his slit as he shuddered and trembled.

Caltoras rumbled with amusement at what he took to be--was in fact--his younger brother's eagerness. "Don't even need to tell you what to do, hm? Good boy." He made his way Caristos' backside, and Caristos lost sight of the older drake; however, he could hear the low, thunderous growl--of approval, or perhaps even arousal--in his brother's throat, and feel Caltoras' forepaws grasp and knead his flanks. "Good little breeding bitch." The words, accompanied by the feeling of Caltoras' snout brushing the scales under his tail and over his trembling thighs--the deep inhale from the other male, and the huffing, humid breath washing over his crotch--sent icy fingers trailing down the younger dragon's spine even as his own arousal was only stoked higher. A breeding bitch, that's what he was; Caltoras' broodmare.

"Brother..." A whine, followed by a reedy moan of need. Caristos gulped as the feelings from earlier--the shame and humiliation and sweet heat that burned under his hiked-up tail and sparked in his sore, pierced drakehood at debasing himself in another male's eyes--rocked through him once more, nearly sending him sprawling on the ground in a panting heap. "M-Master..."

"That's right, little brother. Master." Caltoras let out a groan--a moan of pleasure?--of his own. "You are Master's property. His toy to play with as he pleases. Yes?"

"Yes. Oh, yes..." Caristos rumbled and pushed his hips up higher, wanting--needing--to feel his brother's weight on his back.

"Then let's get these little things tucked away..." Caristos' breath hitched in his throat when he felt a sharp claw brush along the length of one of his members, then the other, and finally tease against the tender lips of his slit. "...so I can begin breeding you in earnest."

With that, Caltoras pulled snout from under his younger brother's tail. Caristos couldn't see, but he could hear the older drake reciting the incantation of enchantment. A spark on each tip of his cocks, making the twin lengths jump and spurt. Heat--dragonfire--running through the iron rods within the shafts to settle deep in the younger dragon's groin. His drakehood grew hot--burning--and Caristos could feel it being drawn back into his slit.

The piercings stung. The merciless iron kept his lengths firm and erect, even as they were pulled into their hiding place. The dragonfire hissed and spat as it flared in the gems that would lock his twin cocks within him. "B-brother...!" Caristos whined. He whimpered. He squirmed and scraped his cheek against the stony ground as the pain gathered in his crotch twisted and knotted and settled into him. When it was finally over--when the magic had done its work and faded away, leaving the enchanted gems glimmering with soft octarine light as they peaked from his slit lips like a dragoness' clitoris--the dragon was left with a twinging ache in his groin. He could feel his drakehood trying to push free--the iron rods within his twin shafts trying to push the lengths out to bob in the air as they had the entire trek back--but no matter how he strained the enchantment kept them tucked away. "I-it..."

"Hurts?" Caltoras sniggered and breathed a puff of humid air over the other male's genitals. Caristos gasped at the pulse through his crotch that his brother's breath caused, which only set the older drake to rumbling in amusement again. "You may as well get used to it, bitch. We need your worthless little drakehood out of the way, after all. Yes?"

Caristos gulped. Shuddered. Sighed. "Yes, broth-... er, Master."

"Good little breeding bitch." The older dragon moved away from his new toy, not sparing Caristos a second glance as he made his way back towards his lair. "Come. We may as well get started, and you've kept me out in the cold for long enough."

"Yes." His heart fluttering and dropping down to join the knot of humiliation and shame in his gut, Caristos followed Caltoras into the cave. The long, winding passage eventually opened into a massive, humid cavern, and Caristos couldn't help letting out an impressed murmur at the sight of his brother's hoard. Mountains of gold, trinkets, and baubles were piled high all around, with silky tapestries and lush rugs draped over the mounds of riches. Off to one side was a carefully-organized of scrolls and books--treatises and ruminations on the arcane arts--which Caltoras made a stop by to set the schematics for Caristos' bindings back into their place. Meanwhile, Caristos let his eyes wander over the glittering collection--large enough to make the eldest of dragons flush with envy--and watched how the flickering dragonfire dancing in the air gleamed off of the gold and silver and platinum to light the dim space.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Caltoras was preening, a smirk on his face as he watched his brother's reaction to his hoard.

"Yes, brother. It..." A pulse of shame as his draconic pride stung; but he was no longer a true dragon, was he? His brother wanted him to be a slave; property, just as much as any other piece on the collection all around them. "It's much larger than mine. Larger than any hoard I could dream of gathering."

"Of course. As is everything else about me."

The flash of Caltoras' teeth shining in his grin stoked the flames burning in the younger drake's cheeks. "Yes, of course. Everything about you is larger. You are far stronger and more virile than a worthless broodmare such as I." Caristos stumbled over the words, but his desire to please the older dragon--and perhaps to feel the sweetening sting of the humiliation Caltoras wanted him to submit to--made him push on. "I'm honored--any drake would be honored--to be your breeding slave."

Caltoras purred as his ego was stroked, and made his way towards a large nest of plush, silken cushions at the center of his lair. The older dragon sat on his haunches and, with an imperious wave of his forepaw, gestured his brother forward. "As pleasant as it is having that tongue of yours speak my praises, I've other uses for it. Bathe me."

Caristos blinked. His flush grew hotter. The throbbing in his crotch intensified. This was one of his deepest, most intimately held fantasies--getting close to his brother, breathing in the older drake's rich scent, and worshiping every inch of Caltoras' body with his tongue--and now it was happening. Again his heart fluttered, and Caristos could almost ignore the pain in his bound wings and drakehood as he practically bounded forward like an eager hatchling to obey the order. "Yes, brother."

He looked the other dragon over, trying to decide where to begin. His brother's forelimbs and flexing chest. The firm, supple haunches supporting the older drake's trim torso and thick, whip-like tail. The other male's hinds, and the shadowed space that Caristos could see peeking from between Caltoras' thighs; heat filled the younger brother's breast at the thought of finally pushing his snout into that rich-smelling crotch--perhaps even under the older drake's tail to sample the darker, stronger scents and flavors that teased his memory--as he had in all his fantasies about the dragon now sitting before him. But no, he had a job to do; eyes downcast with demure submission, Caristos moved forward to begin lapping along his brother's arched neck and strong jaw.

However, as Caristos' snout neared his brother's, Caltoras' forepaw darted up to grasp the younger drake's chin. Eyes flashing and expression stony, the older dragon began to sniff along his brother's nose and mouth. "Open."

"Brother?"

Caristos winced as a squeeze right on the hinge of his jaw sent a surge of pain through his skull. "How many times have I told you not to make me repeat myself? I may just start having to punish you." The younger brother flinched at the intensity of the elder's glare, but didn't try to break out of Caltoras' grip. "Open."

And Caristos did. He opened his maw wide, letting his tongue loll out as Caltoras pushed forward to sniff at it. For a moment, heart pounding and drakehood throbbing, the younger dragon thought his brother was going to give him what he'd requested; a kiss, their jaws locking and their tongues entwining as they always had in his fantasies. Then, claws swiped through the flock of butterflies in his chest as he thought that Caltoras would spit into his mouth as the older drake had done earlier. Finally, shame slamming into his gut like a blow, Caristos realized what his brother was smelling: Tristan. The scent of the half-drake's musk and manhood and cum still lingering on his teeth and tongue and gums.

His fears were confirmed as, with a rumbling growl, Caltoras pulled back to stare right into his eyes. "You pleasured the smith." It wasn't a question.

"Y-yes... Forgive me, brother, he was asking for payment and I had nothing else to give him."

"And so your first instinct was to suck his cock and drink his seed." A smirk. A laugh. A patronizing, indulgent pat on the jaw. "You really are a tail-lifting slut, aren't you little brother?"

The words sent another throb through the twisting knot in his stomach even as Caristos nodded; again, in the heat of the moment, it felt true. Right. "I am, brother. I'm a tail-lifting slut who loves to pleasure other males." He met the older drake's gaze, relaxing as he realized his brother wasn't angry; not outwardly, at least. The older drake's moods had always been mercurial, and Caltoras had often hidden genuine displeasure under the guise of playful teasing when they were younger. Still, Caristos pushed on as his brother pulled back. "Tristan... the smith... says that you can pay for any future projects with my mouth."

"Hah! Good to know." Caltoras' expression settled into smug self-satisfaction even as his eyes grew considering. "I'd thought he might deserve a reward for his years of service. Perhaps we can come to a satisfactory agreement." He grunted and waved a forepaw. "But that's neither here nor there. Resume your task, bitch."

"Yes, Master." And Caristos did. Eagerly at first, his tongue darted out again and again to lap and trace and caress the scales of Caltoras' snout, neck, and jawline. However, the younger dragon's own snout soon began to wrinkle; he hadn't realized how dirty his brother's body was. Sweat and grime were gathered in the ridges of Caltoras' scales, and as he moved down towards the older drake's chest the scent grew stronger and more pungent. Rank. Raunchy. "Brother...? If I may ask, when did you last bathe yourself?"

"Why would I bathe myself when I've others to do it for me?" He snickered. "What's the matter? I thought you liked the smell of my body?" Caltoras' forelimb grasped the back of Caristos' head, right behind the younger drake's horns, and ground the struggling male's nose and snout against his body. Caristos could feel the grunge caught on his brother's scales smearing against--into--his burning, working nostrils, and he whimpered. "Are you saying that I reek, little brother?"

He did. Perhaps the wind hadn't been just right, or perhaps it had been lost in the fresh mountain air, or perhaps Caristos had been too caught up in his brother's teasing and the arousal it spurred in his loins, but here in the stuffy cavern it became blindingly apparent; Caltoras reeked. His body stank, both with virile musk and the lingering miasma of unwashed drake. "C-Cal...toras..." He was pushed lower down the older dragon's chest, continuing to lick and lap and wash his brother's dirty scales and limbs even as his tongue and nose burned. "Brother..." Down Caltoras' sides and torso, the closeness and intimacy still fueling the younger drake's throbbing arousal even as he reeled from the amount of filth that he was licking away. "Master..." Down to Caltoras' splayed thighs, where he gagged as the stench of piss and slit grime--smegma, sharp and acrid and faintly fishy--mingled with the musky scent that had always gotten his tail hiking. Caristos' mind swam, the pleasure of finally living out one of his fantasies warring with disgust at what Caltoras was making him clean up.

"Are you sure you want to know how long it's been, little slave?" Caristos shuddered and groaned as he was brought closer to his brother's reeking crotch; closer, and then pushed away. Caltoras hummed in thought. "Let's see... I didn't bathe this past century... nor the one before..." Caristos' eyes widened and his heart sank in repulsed horror. Two centuries without bathing? "Hmm... I'd say the last time I really had someone's tongue washing me was a few decades after our last meeting." A teasing, mockingly-flirtatious wink, and a snigger of cruel delight. "I trust that won't be a problem, will it little brother? Since you love my scent so much..."

Caristos gagged. He heaved. He tried to pull himself away from the older dragon, but a rough cuff across the crown of his head and Caltoras' forepaw hooked behind his horns kept the whining drake in place. The younger dragon bathed himself regularly--every week on the same day--lapping over his scales and giving every inch of his body--especially his slit and under his tail--a thorough washing, and even then he often managed to build up a good amount of smut and filth that needed to be licked away. Tristan had been embarrassed about not washing for a single day, and Caristos had spoken in earnest when he told the half-drake that his unclean manhood was nothing compared to what the full-blood often had to deal with. He couldn't fathom going unwashed for a single century, let alone two. "Brother... that's... I-I..."

"Come now, Caristos. Are so weak that a little cock smut will keep you from the drakehood you've wanted for so long?" Jeering. Teasing. Merciless. Caltoras laughed at the nauseous look on his brother's face, and pressed the younger drake's snout to his thigh once more. "I expect a thorough cleaning, little bitch. You've your work cut out for you if you want to get that dirty tongue of yours where it's wanted to go."

Even as his stomach roiled and his lungs clenched in protest at the stench, Caristos felt his face burning at the words. This was what his brother wanted, and what he'd agreed to, wasn't it? He'd pledged to follow every one of Caltoras' orders. He was his brother's property, his slave and his toy; his broodmare. And so, even as he reeled in disgust at what he was doing, Caristos bathed his brother. He lapped at the older dragon's underbelly and the crooks of Caltoras' hinds, flinching at the taste but otherwise offering no other protest; though his did feel a surge of relief when his snout was batted away from his brother's filth-crusted, reeking slit. He dragged his working, wet tongue over Caltoras' hips and flanks, and even lapped the gathered grit from between the pawpads and clawed toes of the older dragon's hindpaws. He lowered his gaze in shame at the snickering from his brother, but still he worked diligently to clean everything that was shoved into his face.

Then Caltoras pushed him away, standing up on all fours, and Caristos moved to bathe his brother's back. Again, he felt that intimacy he'd always craved while lapping along the older drake's neck and shoulders; he even gave them a few tender nips and nibbles, but a growl of warning from the other male quickly put a stop to that. Again, Caristos worked to clean every bit of grime and dirt and old, sour sweat from his brother's body; Caltoras' spine and sides, his wings and wing membranes, and then down once again to the older dragon's flanks. Again, the rich, raunchy, reeking stench made Caristos pause in hesitation as he stared at Caltoras' rump.

"Go on. You love huffing the stink of my ass, don't you?" A glance over his shoulders toward Caristos. A wide, teasing grin. A rumble of playful cruelty. Caltoras lifted his hips and tail, and the younger drake was almost sent sprawling by the waft of hot, dank, unclean scent from between his brother's hinds. The older dragon's pucker, tight and greasy and smeared here and there with mingled sweat and smut, was bared to Caristos; though he had no illusions about the action being submissive in any way. As he stared at the winking, dirty rim, heat burning in his cheeks and groin even as he gagged at the sight, Caristos let out a low, soft whine. "Sniff it, little brother. Smell under my tail, just like you always did in the nest." The younger brother flinched as hot, nauseous embarrassment washed through him, and Caltoras laughed as he answered the question in the drake's ashamed gaze. "Of course I knew. You aren't nearly as nimble as you think, and I always felt your little bitch snout when you shoved it between my hinds." The older dragon shook his hips--strong and powerful and built for rutting eagerly-submissive males like Caristos--in his brother's face. "Well, what are you waiting for? Enjoy my scent to your heart's content. Just don't forget your task."

"Y-yes... brother." Caristos shuddered and shivered and whimpered, but he followed his brother's order. He pushed forward, pressing his nose right against the dank flesh, and took a deep sniff. Pungent. Cloying. Earthy and spicy, with a sharp, strong undertone of Caltoras' masculine scent. Caristos' mouth fell open in a low moan, and he dragged his tongue along the span of scaly flesh between his brother's pucker and slit; again he flinched at the taste, but still forced himself to clean this dankest, dirtiest, raunchiest part of his brother's body. Up to the base of Caltoras' tail, and then down to the pit of his crotch; Caristos' tongue stopped just short of touching his brother's slit, though whether it was his own reluctance or the older dragon's growl of warning that held him back even the younger drake didn't know. Then he lapped over the filthy pucker, feeling bile trying to rise into his throat as he licked the smut-smeared ring; he knew better than to try delving past the tight sphincter clenching under the touch of his working tongue. Only when every scale and inch of flesh under Caltoras' tail had been spit-shined was Caristos allowed to pull back, coughing and heaving and scraping his soiled tongue against his teeth.

"Already tapping out, little bitch? You haven't even started on the part that needs cleaning the most." Caltoras chuckled, low and rumbling and delighted at his brother's humiliation, and turned to lift one of his hinds and bare his crotch. "Clean my slit, bath slave."

"Please... a moment." Caristos stared in horror at the filthy expanse--thick clumps of smegma had gathered all along the lips of Caltoras' slit, sealing the scaly flesh with a film of grime--and felt his stomach clench; even so, the scent wafting from between his brother's hinds burned a trail of fire straight down to his groin.

"Don't be ridiculous, little bitch. You don't need a moment. In fact, if your drakehood wasn't locked away it would be spurting at the thought of getting between my hinds, wouldn't it?" Caltoras' teeth flashed in another wide scythe of a grin.

Caristos whimpered and whined, but he couldn't deny the truth of the words. It was sick and shameful, but even as he reeled at his brother's filth he could feel his twin shafts pulsing and throbbing in his depths. "Yes..."

"Then get to it."

Bound and aroused and shrinking under his brother's hard, dominating stare, Caristos could do nothing but obey. He pressed forward, running his snout over the length of the smut-coated slit--gagging even as another surge of heat through his crotch made his own hips hike up once more--and began to lick. Sweat, sour and sharp and stinging his gums and tongue. Smegma, acrid and stinking and clinging to the scales as he tried to swipe it away. Flesh, hot and moist and musky as he broke through the crust of filth. And as his tongue worked, he could feel one plump tip and then the other pushing free from the smut-filled depths. His brother's drakehood.

The twin members, long and girthy and coated in thick layers of grime, extended out to throb and twitch in the air between the older dragon's hinds. "That's right. Look at my drakehood, little bitch. The drakehood that's turned so many males like yourself into eager broodmares." It was massive. The shafts hung low from Caltoras' crotch, not even the rigidity of full erection being able to fight against the sheer weight of the veiny, angry-red flesh. The tips were tapered to fleshy spearpoints, and all along the underside of each length was a line of firm, backward-swept, sharp-looking spikes. And as Caltoras rocked his hips forward--as the pair of gargantuan cocks batted against Caristos' face, grinding over his scales and smearing his burning cheeks and snout with streaks of off-white smegma--the younger drake's lungs were filled with his older brother's scent. "Breathe in my musk, slut. That's the smell of a true drake. And there, can you smell all the males and females that have felt it within them as well?" A chuckle as Caristos took a deep, audible sniff. "Can you smell how many have had the pleasure of being bred by Caltoras of Speartip Peak?"

He could. His nose burned with the cloying reek of his brother's unclean, but so very masculine and virile musk. Along the underside--caught between the cruel breeding spines adorning each throbbing member--he noticed other scents; the smell of male ass--he'd grown intimately familiar with his own, and the raunch of Caltoras' hind end still tingled in his nostrils--and female heat--a scent he'd caught before, but that had never interested him as much as the musk of his fellow drake--from dragons of every color. And here and there, the stench of lessers staining the pulsating flesh; had Caltoras bred with the lesser races as well? Had he rutted and fucked and bred his seed into them as enthusiastically as he'd lain with other dragons, siring half-bloods like Tristan?

The thoughts were swept away as Caristos heard his brother's huffing laughter. "I've not bothered to have myself cleaned after breeding any of my toys these long centuries. I'm sure you don't mind tasting your fellow broodmares, do you?"

"N-no..." Caristos trembled as the mingled scents settled heavily in his lungs. Again, he felt his bile rising even as his own locked drakehood twitched and leaked deep within him. Slowly, carefully, reluctantly, he began to lap along the lengths bobbing before him; his first taste of his brother's cocks, the fantasies he'd pleasured himself to for so long falling far short of the reality. It wasn't too bad; certainly he'd tasted his own smut before, and hadn't he shown off his arousal to Tristan while cleaning the half-drake's own dirty member? However, the fresher, newer grime quickly gave way to reveal the sour, curdled, older filth underneath as his tongue ran along each erection from tip to base; the raunchy, dried, flaky smegma that had stewed in Caltoras' slit for at least two centuries. It burned on his tongue and in his nostrils, and roiled in his belly as he lapped it up and swallowed it down. Trying and failing not to consider too carefully what exactly it was he was tasting, Caristos dug into the deep ridges behind every spine along the length and slurped underneath the fleshy plates along the topside of the throbbing, twitching, stinking cocks; here the sharp acridity of smegma, there the dull earthiness of some poor--lucky--drake's back passage, and along the backside of the spines the coppery taste of old blood. He shuddered. He whimpered and whined. He worked diligently to clean every inch of his brother's drakehood.

Then his snout was forced into the base--the opening of Caltoras' slit beneath the older drake's lengths--while his entire body heaved in protest; here, the stew of filth and grime had thickened and solidified into a firm, gritty foundation that resisted his tongue's efforts to break through it. He heard Caltoras' laughter--cruel and mocking--as his elder brother humped his face; he felt the larger dragon hop up to lay along his spine, and the other male's forepaws squeezing and kneading his flanks. "What's the matter, bitch? I said to clean my slit, and I meant all of it."

"I-I can't. It's too much..."

"You can and you will." Another push of Caltoras' hips ground Caristos' nose into the plug of grime that filled the older drake's slit, and the younger brother swallowed desperately to keep the bile in his throat from rising higher; he wouldn't put it past his brother to force him to lick that up as well were it to pass his jaws. Caltoras' sharp claws pricked--dug into--his rump, and Caristos groaned as his brother's own snout pushed beneath his hiked-up tail once more. "Come on, suck like a good little cum-guzzling bitch."

With another whimper and belly-deep gag, Caristos' body moved to obey. His lips pressed to those of his brother's slit, and he began to suckle on the hardened smut. His tongue passed over it, pressing into the tender flesh to which it clung. His saliva began to sink into it, wetting the grit and softening the clump; and reviving the rank, sickening taste and smell of it. Slowly, slowly, it began to slide free and into Caristos' working mouth. A little more, a little further, there.

With one last, strong suck, Caristos felt the plug of grime pull itself into his mouth. It was followed by a gush of slit fluids--musky and pungent and breaking through the flavor of smegma to linger on Caristos' tongue--that drew a moan of appreciation--arousal, still burning low and steady as he worked--from deep within the younger dragon. Then Caristos turned his head, spitting out the chunk of moistened slit smut onto a nearby cushion; and received a sharp, razor-clawed squeeze on his flanks from Caltoras. "What do you think you're doing, little bitch?"

"I-I..."

"You know you're to swallow down everything that Master gives you." The older drake's claws raked over Caristos' sides, drawing a whine of pain from the younger brother. "Put it back into your mouth and eat it."

"E-eat?" Caristos stared at the thing--chunky and off-white and stinking of raunch and filth--in trepidation. "Brother please, I beg you, don't make me-"

"Master, little bitch." Another snarl from the older drake sent a bolt of fear down Caristos' spine. "Eat. It."

"Y-yes... Master." Gagging and coughing and trying desperately not to vomit, Caristos followed the older dragon's order. He took the hardened clump of smegma into his mouth, chewing on it slowly. He flinched and whimpered as it broke apart to cling to his teeth and gums. He made an attempt to gulp it down, but the both the girth and stickiness of the acrid lump made it catch in the younger drake's craw.

"Swallow it!" Caltoras was growling, and Caristos could feel his brother's hot, heavy, angered stare.

"I'm... t-trying!"

A sharp bite--not a nip, but a blood-drawing chomp--on his tailbase made Caristos yelp and snarl. With a rough shove, he tried desperately to push the domineering weight of the older drake off his back. "What was that for?!" Tears pricked his eyes as he shuddered and shivered, wanting only to curl over himself to lap at the stinging wounds.

"That is the punishment you deserve for talking back to me. And believe me, I've worse for worthless little worms that can't follow a simple order." Every word dropped slowly from the larger dragon's lashing, venomous tongue. His lips drew up into a furious snarl. His eyes flashed. He growled, rumbling like an approaching tempest. "Swallow!"

Caristos whined, and then flinched at another growl from Caltoras. He struggled. He gagged and choked and coughed. He finally felt the clump slide down his throat to settle in his roiling, nauseated stomach.

A huff snorted from Caltoras' flaring nostrils. "Good boy. Now finish your job. I can still feel more deep at the base of my drakehood, and I want it completely clean for our first mating."

The younger brother stiffened--froze--at that, wide eyes blinking. 'Mating'? The question lingered on his soiled tongue, but an impatient snarl from Caltoras made him swallow it down. Instead, the younger drake pushed himself back into his brother's slit to lap and suck and even dig the remaining filth out with his claws. The stench and taste were still horrible, and Caristos had to force himself to continue through it all; even as he whimpered and begged his brother to let him stop, and was rebuffed every time.

Then, a single shard of thought pierced the haze. Perhaps he was licking up the oldest of Caltoras' filth; the smut that had lingered in his slit since it first formed in the elder dragon's adolescence. The possibility made Caristos reel, but at the same time it teased his swimming mind with a sense of sick, twisted intimacy; he was the first and only to taste his brother this deeply and thoroughly. Caristos moaned while he worked, feeling the pressure in his groin grow as--once more--his own drakehood strained and struggled against the lock keeping it tucked away. It hurt, but even that pain was starting to feel oddly pleasurable.

"Good boy. Good little bitch, brother." Caltoras' own tongue lapped at Caristos' injured tail, oddly gentle and tender as it ran along the base and down below to brush just short of his brother's winking pucker. "You see what happens when you disobey? Master has to punish you. Isn't it so much better to follow Master's orders?"

A soft grunt. A low groan. A final gulp as Caristos swallowed down the last of his brother's filth. "Yes, Master."

"Good boy." Caltoras' hips rocked, and once more the throbbing, twitching, heavy lengths of his twin erections batted against Caristos' snout. Smacked against it. Sent splatters of virile precum along the younger drake's burning cheeks. "Now, taste your brother's drakehood. Pleasure it like you did the smith's."

"Yes, brother." The memory of what he'd just done--the pain and humiliation he'd suffered while forcing himself to swallow the centuries-old smut caught in Caltoras' slit--was already fading as Caristos nuzzled those massive, pulsing shafts. Again, he took a deep sniff of his brother's crotch and dragged his tongue along the lengths. Caltoras' scent and flavor, strong and spicy and pungent--but much cleaner now--filled his lungs and tingled in his soiled maw, making the younger drake whimper; in pleasure this time. However, when he reached the head of one member--when he swirled around and licked over the dribbling, plump tip--Caristos flinched. Sharp. Acrid. Sour. Caltoras' precum burned his tongue like fire, and a spurt of it right against the opening of his throat made the younger dragon jerk back and try to spit the acidic liquid out.

"Little brother." Caristos froze at the sound of Caltoras' voice. "You aren't thinking of spitting out another gift from your generous master, are you?"

Caristos' head shook desperately in denial. Under his older brother's watchful, baleful eye, he swallowed down the older drake's precum. "I was... surprised. At the taste."

"Ah, yes." Caltoras' crotch pushed forward impatiently, and with another quiet groan Caristos latched onto one of his brother's cocks. "Most drakes are, but they quickly get used to it. It is a quirk of mine, something to help with my... breeding efforts." A low rumble of laughter sent a shudder down the younger drake's spine. "You see, little bitch, it isn't every dragon that submits as easily as you. Some need a little... assistance accepting my seed. That is why my precum tastes the way it does. It gets both the mouths and cunts of my chosen toys primed for my semen to do its work. To sink into them, and make them into good little broodmares."

Caristos listened as he worked his tongue along Caltoras' length. It was a struggle, but he began to gulp down the pre gushing from the throbbing tip. It hurt; it burned a trail of pain within his throat as it joined everything else that had settled in his clenching, heaving stomach. But if it kept him this close to his brother--let him indulge in the intimacy he'd craved from the other male for so long--he'd do anything Caltoras demanded of him; no matter how reluctant he was to continue drinking the sour liquid.

"Yes, that's right." Caltoras purred as he slowly pushed more and more of his shaft into his brother's working mouth. "My seed will mark you as mine, little brother. It will take away every bit of your drakehood so that you may serve me as a good little breeding bitch." Deeper. Deeper. Caristos gagged as the tip pushed into his gullet. "Every drake who's ever tasted of my seed became less of a male. They grew smaller... weaker... their drakehoods struggled to stay erect even as I rutted them..." A snarl of pleasure from the older dragon as Caristos' tongue caressed his pumping shaft and the tight passage around his cocktip clamped and squeezed. "I wasn't kidding when I said you may never get hard again, little bitch. But that's the price you pay for being my broodmare."

Caristos grunted and groaned--questioning--as he tried to work over the shaft in his mouth. He licked and suckled and slurped from base to tip as it moved in and out of his throat, trying--failing--to keep the sharp ridges and spines along the length from pricking and scraping and scratching his tongue and gums and tender, aching gullet. This was his brother, Caltoras. This was what he'd always wanted and fantasized about. This was his place; underneath the larger, stronger, dominant male with Caltoras' massive drakehood buried within him. Through the stinging, burning, itching pain that rocked through him with every thrust, Caristos tried desperately to cling to that thought.

"And I can't wait to do the same to this little hole of yours." The younger drake jerked--pushed his tail up--as Caltoras' own wet, wriggling tongue finally caressed the hot flesh of his pucker. "It's going to hurt when I breed you, little brother. Those spines you're choking on will rake your insides to get my seed into your blood. Your passage will become a true cunt, little bitch. A damp, fertile, sopping cunt for me to fill with my clutch."

"Broth-" Caristos was cut off with a gagging moan as the second shaft of his brother's drakehood darted forward to fill his open mouth. Now both lengths were working into him; pushing forward and pulling back, stretching his jaw and throat with their combined girth as Caltoras slammed his crotch into the younger dragon's snout. Snarling and growling, the older drake began to hump in earnest. Caltoras was rutting his throat, and it was all Caristos could do to stay still and let his brother use him.

Faster. Deeper. Harder. Caristos' mind reeled with agony even as his own hips rocked against the cushions below him; he couldn't pleasure his own drakehood, bound as it was, but the feeling of the soft silk against his humid, sensitive slit lips was more than enough to feed the arousal still throbbing underneath the pain and humiliation. Tristan had been big--long and thick and choking--and the half-drake had easily stretched his throat with that dirty, musky half-blood cock of his. A single one of Caltoras' shafts was far longer and far thicker than the smith's manhood--sinking into his maw and straining his jaw with its girth--and having both of the massive members within his mouth and thrusting into his throat was more than Caristos could handle. He choked. He gagged. He heaved, and barely swallowed his bile back down in time; he groaned in pain as the spines on each cock sank into his tender inner walls, but still the younger dragon managed it.

"Yes, good. Just like that. Swallow my drakehood, little slut. Drink my seed and feel it change you from the inside out." Caltoras was huffing. Panting. Growling and groaning as his rocking and slamming grew even faster. He was close, and nothing--not the squirming of the male underneath him nor the whimpering and whining of protest from Caristos--could stop him. "Take it, little brother." Faster. "Take it you tail-lifting little bitch...!" Faster. Caltoras' words were lost in the rumbling roar gathering in his throat. With one last forward thrust, he finally released.

Pulsing. Throbbing. Erupting like the volcanoes of Hennae, spewing the hot, thick, potent seed from his brother's gonads straight into Caristos' stomach. The younger dragon's tongue and mouth and throat worked to take everything his brother's drakehood gave him; to swallow the other male's cum like he'd always wanted. And as the virile liquid filled him, Caristos could already feel it; the sting and itch of the older dragon's pre and cum on the lacerations the spines on Caltoras' cocks had opened in his gullet. His brother's seed was filling him, working into his bloodstream, changing him. It hurt; but just like everything else he'd suffered under the older drake's direction, the pain only fueled the fire burning in his groin and under his tail.

For a long moment, the two dragons remained frozen and entwined; Caltoras panted as his full weight settled on his brother's back, and Caristos tried to stay still and let the older drake have his way with him. Finally, with a grunt and a quiet snarl, Caltoras pulled his drakehood free of his bitch's mouth; Caristos gagged and coughed as the spines scraped his throat once more, and could only let out a hoarse moan of pain once his maw was unplugged. "Mm. Adequate, little brother. Though we've time for you to learn how to truly pleasure a real male." Caltoras settled on his haunches, preening himself and letting his saliva-and-seed-coated members dribble and throb between his hinds; pulsing, twitching, but not softening.

Caristos stared at his brother's drakehood, his thoughts whirling like a maelstrom. He swallowed--yelped at the pain in his used throat--and let out a questioning whimper.

A low, rumbling laugh. A crooning purr. A lustful, playful, teasing growl as Caltoras dragged a claw along his still-firm erections. "You didn't think we were done, did you little brother? No, I still have use for you." The older dragon sniggered and gestured with a forepaw. Once more, dragonfire flared in the air to let something drop onto the cushions between the master and his breeding slave; ropes? "Prepare yourself, slut. I said I wouldn't be merciful, and I meant it." His tongue flicked over his chops, and his drakehood jumped and spurted a line of precum--the acrid, acidic fluid that would prime Caristos' cunt to accept his brother's clutch--over the coiled lengths of rope he'd summoned. "It's time to truly rut you like the broodmare you are."

Sore, fatigued, shamed and humiliated--but still achingly aroused--Caristos could do nothing but nod. "Yes, Master."