In pursuit of relief chapter 1
This is a long story commission I have done for TheGrandPuppeteer
Description: The life of an elite scout is a lonely affair, a truth deeply embedded into the lonely heart and virgin member of the dragon called Zeridran. During his usual pit stop with his coyote companion, a chance to finally rid himself of his nagging wet dreams appears when his two best friends are stationed in the same town, ready to welcome him into their debauched fold. But will he accept it? Or turn tail, as he had done all his life?
The characters featured in this story are my creation
***In pursuit of Relief chapter 1***
"I...don't think you should..."
"Shouldn't I?" Lerranya shifted one of her forepaws over Zeridran's soot-grey muzzle, her padded toes separated by his smooth, greying nose horn. "It's my choice, isn't it? My turn. You've already taken yours."
Yes. Yes he did. He chose to surrender to the cream of her belly, to inch his nostrils further into her pads, to breathe in the soft smell of dust mixed with the heavier aromas of her vent, slick against her pink-mottled paw pads.
She cheated. Whenever she coated her pads in her leaking fluids, Zeridran's limbs gave in, the grey of his belly shadowed by her supple form, her trickling juices pelting his achingly erect cock. They drooled on the swollen spade of his tip right now, little translucent webs reaching for his jerking spire, his breaths as erratic as its movements.
"Now lay still," Lerranya said--no, commanded, for her hips buckled down, swallowing the entirety of his length faster than the wide-eyed drake could scrunch his eyelids shut in mystifying pleasure. "Can't have your cock swinging this way and that, spreading your virgin musk all over my recently washed scales."
Not that he could contest that, let alone whimper his submission and earn reprieve from the onslaught of her swaying haunches. Lerranya's smooth, constant, deep thrusts permitted her ridged walls to tug at every barb coating Zeridran's length in five neat, parallel rows growing sturdier and meatier towards the underside. Those looked like little fleshy nubs, more prominent and stiffer to the touch, yet awfully susceptible to the scalding heat of her wet insides.
Zeridran's breaths hiked along with his immense, unstoppable desire to ejaculate into her. He wanted to warn her, to roar at her, to shove her off him before his seed burst forth. The clench of his jaws couldn't suppress it. The clamping of his butt failed to diminish the molten pressure surging through every barb on his cock, each primed to fulfill its primordial duty to the hungry, shuddering insides of the female Zeridran desired with all his heart.
"Rrrhhh, I....raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarhhhh!"
"I know you can't," Lerranya churred as her ripe, swollen, heat-stricken folds sucked the entirety of Zeridran down to his very slit, the terse squeezes of her strong muscles bringing about Zeridran's immense, pent-up release.
A spurt. It always took a single spurt for Zeridran's bleary eyes to snap open; for his quiet, lazy moans to roll out of his stiff, sluggish muzzle while his seed shot all over himself. The length of his neck often protected his face from those musky, humiliating blows while the surging motions of his cock splattered his essence on the membrane of his wing, flank, throat, chest and belly. The light grey inside of his haunch was the last to receive that sludgy curse, his still, spent member resting in a shallow pool of thick, ivory slime that had spent too long inside his body.
Zeridran's head flopped back on the hay. A long, weary, defeated sigh fled him along with a few pathetic whimpers he immediately culled short. It happened again. And why shouldn't it, when he had done nothing to tend to the need? Kalrondren, his senior and his only dragon friend stationed in Talonrise at this time, undertook enough critical missions to be paired to no other than Lerranya, whereas he...because of Lardran...
No. It was wrong to put this blame on his friend and father, especially since Zeridran withheld this closely-guarded secret of his. Lardran understood this world and its intricacies better than Zeridran could ever hope to, for the society of bipeds was a quagmire of requirements, subtle and apparent, more so for the rebel side.
With practiced fluidity, Zeridran got onto his limbs, shuffling over to the stack of velvet kerchiefs he hid under a ballot of hay for this precise reason. Tying them to his tail in the simplest of knots came as second-nature to him after the umpteenth occurrence of this scenario, where the erotic nature of his dreams ended with the expulsion of his young, far too eager seed. Compared to his paws, his tail easily reached every gob, snake and droplet of seed, with the velvet texture doing the rest.
Once adequately clean, the soot-grey drake padded over to the barrel of water by the barn's exit to dip his head in it and dispel the last of his lingering anxiety. The clean kerchief tied to his tail, when soaked, eliminated most of the lingering, musty fragrance of his essence, but it did not completely wash it off.
For that, he had to roll in the farthest pile of hay, sodden with dust and dirt. The dampness of his scales caked the grime to them, holding it there enough for the more natural scents to impregnate into them.
His morning ritual done, Zeridran stepped out of his larger-than-expected room for the night into the breezy morning of Talonrise, the ugliest, most unique town their profession as elite scouts sent them to.
At its farther edges, Zeridran was spared the humming noise of the zeppelins, the air platforms reserved for the taller, central parts of the town where the density of buildings and people was at its thickest. Though it did not rise to breach the clouds like the cities on the other side of the border, the worthy parts of Talonrise had risen from the polluted ruins of Old Vrashdrell on beams and platforms of sturdy steel. On the outer reaches, the single, smaller buildings lingered on what appeared to be a russet amalgamation of matchsticks prone to blow in the wind, their space limited to tiny islands barely enough for a dragon to land, united by as many swaying bridges as there were people living here.
The center portion was far more impressive, dominated by the artful spire called the Talonrise Eyrie, where the leaders welcomed elite scouts like him and Lardran to bask in the sumptuous offers of their fine town. Lardran never accepted the lofty invitation, a fortunate kindness to a dragon like Zeridran, unable to hold his seed when he most needed to.
From up here, where some of the sun reached down on the smog-covered below, Zeridran could hear the noise of the Old World. It rattled his very scales to think that people could live in such filth, another half-forgotten remnant of a war as old as the crumbled stone buildings from down there. Lardran told him not to pay attention to them, to those forsaken by a society they rejected, but the dragon found it curiously difficult to shake his mind off them while the clean, cool morning breeze swished against his scales.
Kalrondren. He needed to find that smug, arrogant skink before Lerranya returned to rob him of the opportunity to even speak, let alone enter their lair. With a few flaps of his broad charcoal wings, Zeridran joined the winds, veering in the lonely direction of the Silent Peaks guarding the left flank of the town. Without air contraptions to impede his flight by following the distance rules set out to protect both dragon and those they carried, Zeridran made it to the lip of Kalrondren's cave before the noon bell rang, earning himself a few good hours to entangle the knots of both mind and stomach.
The strong, biting currents whipped against his folded wings like so many frozen needles, the air above the clouds thicker, harder to suck into his nostrils. An eerily smooth and precisely carved disc of smooth, polished stone stark against the dark, jagged cliffs protected the entrance into Kalrondren's home. Lerranya drew holes in specific locations, a gem embedded into each precise incision united by a pattern mean to further bewilder unwelcomed guests. Though her magic could activate and open it at will, Zeridran, just like her mate, had to use their claws in the corresponding sequence to slide it to the side. As always, the grey drake leaped rather than stroll into the darkening tunnel, ever afraid of being squeezed to a pulp by the monolithic block of sturdy rock.
Despite their few days lead on Zeridran and his coyote partner, Kalrondren and Lerranya already converted smooth, cold, uninviting stone walls into a home. Tapestries, charms, wind chimes--they set up all of their favorite embellishments in the exact spots they needed to be, the mosaic of multi-colored carpets welcoming to both eyes and paws. Hints of Kalrondren's heritage, that of a wild dragon, stared at Zeridran through the beady eyes of a hatchling sculpture sat next to a miniature valley hewn into the stone itself by Lerranya's magic. They appeared to him in the strangest of objects, like the gathering of drying, ornamental flowers plucked from the distant lands of Velnavrann, curious in both color and shape. Lerranya's exotic magic belonged to a nobler blood cultivated in the world of bipeds, yet she had no qualms forsaking her people--the very ones she now fought against--in favor of earning a mate.
The mystery of why the two had yet to desert and assume the life they dreamed of puzzled Zeridran as much as the silent moans wafting from the sole chamber of their temporary den.
No. Not moans. Maybe at first, but with every timid step, the softer tonalities gave way to huffs, grunts, growls, ascending into a blood-seething roar that quaked Zeridran's very member with the intimate knowledge of what transpired. Frozen, his toes stiff and curled around fistfuls of carpet fuzz, the young drake's heart pounded louder than the subsequent panting breaths of the spent male. Had he Lerranya's expressive frills, they would have turned cherry red from the heat surging through them, crumpling along his scales in mortifying apprehension for catching his friend during the moment when he...when he was tending to the need.
"Come on in, Zeridran," Kalrondren's elegant, confident voice beckoned him forth, the rustle of a velvet cloth signaling that he already began wiping himself. "Scoot over here. Have something to show you."
The only reason Zeridran's wide, shocked eyes held Kalrondren's cool, friendly aquamarine gaze was because his body completely stiffened, petrified to the very tips of his claws. Unable to help himself, his attention skipped to Kalrondren's ridged shaft, flopped against a swath of pale brown cloth smeared with his seed. In front of his tip lay a bundle of crumpled kerchiefs, their leaking fluids suggestive of their use.
"A little lower," the squirming tip of Kalrondren's tail caught his attention before it swiftly coiled around the lacquered, wooden pleasure toy buried into him up to the two great, swollen lobes that defined its knot. "Good enough."
Kalrondren's eyelids fluttered as he pulled it out of himself. It came out unexpectedly clean, given...where it had been...
"Know what this is?" He flaunted the strange object for Zeridran's perusal, chuckling at his friend's snarling, disgusted muzzle. "It's a pleasurer. A penetrator. A lodger. It has as many names as there are cultures out there, but I simply refer to it as a knotter. Though for you, it's better that we call it a...toy. For that is what you should treat it as. No more."
Had ice not formed throughout all of Zeridran's limbs, the drake would have hurried out of the cave in an instant! But a perverse curiosity rooted him in place; a repulsive need to understand if what Kalrondren did felt good. If he could...do it himself...
"I see you're interested," the tawny dragon's crest frill flared with such obvious excitement it all but made Zeridran's heart stop in his chest from the penetrating horror of being considered a dragon of such loose morals.
"Sit down," Kalrondren's tail signaled him to a bed of furs and pillows that belonged to Lerranya. "Make yourself at ease. Feel like I'm talking to one of those stiff wings from the eyrie, their tails as limp as their languid steps."
A full minute passed, and the rest of Zeridran's body had yet to make it past the entrance to the main chamber, with only his shocked head showing.
"Fine," Kalrondren swept the toy under the sumptuous furs making up his bed. "It's gone. You can come in now. Your undertail is safe from the deepest, most piercing pleasures you've ever experienced."
Now that the object of his most guilty and shameful of torments was gone, Zeridran's paws shook off the frost holding them chained to the carpet in the tunnel leading into Kalrondren's home, his claws pattering on the unusually smooth stone floor. He avoided Lerranya's secondary bed that Kalrondren pointed him to, her lingering scent already enough to tug at the tip of his peeking malehood.
"My, but you're endearingly vulnerable to her scent. A pity that she is not here. She would have immensely relished the thickness of your virgin seed soothe her wet, needy walls, just as I would have enjoyed watching that select spectacle."
Zeridran hurried to the pile of tossed pillows intertwined with an assortment of soft pelts stitched together into blankets, realizing that what he thought to have been a secondary bad was something as salacious as Kalrondren's revolting act. It reeked of spicy arousal, of hardened fluids embedded into the pleasant textures caressing his scales and hugging his growing, needy erection, tugged forth by both smells and impossibly arousing words.
Kalrondren rolled onto his back like a serene hatchling, pawing at the tail hanging between his limbs dreamily, his purr genuine in its sharp, excited pitch. "She's been carrying my eggs well before our arrival here. The moon after the next, I'll be a father, but until then, I'll remain a concerned friend mated to a dragoness who is equally aware of your situation. The third time it happened in two days, all while being an hour's flight away from us. Stubborn specimens, you soot-snouts."
"I...I don't..." Zeridran's haunches shifted to conceal his full erection, forepaws anxiously kneading at one of Lerranya's smaller, harder pillows.
"You do," Kalrondren's playful, upside down eyes found his, mischief dancing within the cerulean pools. "But she's not here for another night, so we'll leave the tedious task of convincing you to enter her for when it becomes relevant. Erect yet?"
Just as Zeridran's jaw dropped, Kalrondren swung back to the side, his paws finding purchase on the edges of his makeshift bed. The fur muffled the sound, but as soon as it gave way to cold stone, the soft squelches of his pads reminded Zeridran of his most infuriating lack. Soft pads that could grope and knead at his tip, and claws tucked into elegant sheaths to ensure that they never nicked his member.
"This stiffness of yours is unbecoming," Kalrondren said, kicking aside some pillows to make room for himself and to eliminate any barrier that might have blocked the view of what his tapered tail tip clutched.
Zeridran shied away from the pleasure toy like a berated hatchling, but that only convinced Kalrondren's tail to stretch even closer to him. "Don't dismiss it outright. When handled in the right way, it can help you experience a meager portion of the bliss females lose their voice to while roaring."
He set the toy between them, the musk imprinted on it gut churning in its intensity to the untested male's nostrils. Kalrondren immediately snatched it away, hurrying to a low, elegant barrel of water to rinse it, then meticulously wipe it in three different towels.
"Forgive my crude manners," Kalrondren resumed from where they left off, placing the toy in that exact same position, as if his slip never happened. "We have several stages to go through before you're ready for the more select pleasures. Lerranya mentioned it the other day, prior to her departure, that I should let her start with the beginning. To let her fulfill your foremost, most innocent and truthful of fantasies in order for us to embolden you for what comes next. But it seems you've already mated her in your sleep."
Zeridran's spittle felt like tar to his throat, thick and ridiculously hard to swallow. There was no point denying his impulses. Not to a dragon whose kindness, sympathy and amusement shone through his empathic eyes. Though the lump in his throat prevented him from speaking, the young drake managed a weak nod, enough for Kalrondren to shift closer to him and push the pillow covering his erection aside with his hind paw.
"Look at those barbs," Kalrondren paused to lick his snout in that slow, lustful way a male ought only to employ with a female. "All tense and eager."
The tawny dragon's head shifted back to Zeridran, the grey drake tensing up instinctively at being caught in such a surreal situation. "I'm perfectly equipped to handle your hardness in quite a number of ways, starting with the basest, least exciting yet alluring in its own way for the both of us."
One of Kalrondren's hind paws reached for his snout so that his tongue could bathe and lubricate his smooth, pink pads with arousing, glistening fluid. A gasp slipped Zeridran, his fantasy of having those silky, short, bean-shaped toes cup and squeeze his cock's head in their careful clutch washing over the shores of his mind. The tawny drake's devious gaze sparkled with naughty intent, snout pulling away to coyly play with a forepaw while his other, drier hind paw pushed its way against Zeridran's snout.
He wanted to lick it. To confirm his burning need to his friend, to receive the very help he came here for. Almighty flames, this was so much better than that horrifying toy that made his very tailhole constrict in fright!
But his lips remained shut, sealed by mounting trepidation. This...this was obscene! Unbecoming of an elite scout partnered to a coyote considered by many to be the next in line in receiving the Blue Operative award! Though his hesitation lasted but for a few seconds, that was enough for Kalrondren to rescind his offer, his sagging crest and visible gulp stirring a mystifying guilt within the grey drake.
"Then again, I often get ahead of myself," Kalrondren said, tucking his hind paws together and sheltering them beneath a wing to keep them at bay. Zeridran's stomach lurched in fright at having offended his friend in some way, given how appealing the scent and texture of his pads was, smeared with the faded scent of a dragoness he couldn't stop dreaming of!
"Lerranya, she--" Kalrondren chuckled nervously, the tips of his claws showing as the tip of his tail abandoned the dildo to curl around his lithe yet powerful body. "It is how she melted away the same doubt and fear that hold you captive just now. She held me tight against her throat, whispering to me how this is the first and last time she brings a deviant to orgasm during the course of a mission. I finished into the pads of her moist hind paws faster than it took her to say her whole piece, which was the only reason she did not betray me to our guardian. Like in your case, my innocence at the time saved me a lifetime of loneliness..."
Zeridran's tail shifted an inch off a pillow, timidly pointing at his friend, yet failing to take initiative. That was who he had always been. A silent coward, forever subdued by shame and perpetually held back by timidness.
"You're right," his friend recollected himself in the next second, denying him the chance to seize initiative yet again. "Too intimate. Too addictive. Improper for a scout like you who could leave the next day on a mission. But this..." his tail seized the toy, shaking it enticingly. "This is a small, portable companion that never leaves your side. Assuming you get your own later, for this one bears special meaning. Buuuut, I maaaay be inclined to let you try it once. Given that you'd never get one otherwise."
The same surreal terror washed through Zeridran's, forcing the stiff toes of all paws to bundle together and clench around each other, tail coiling so tight around him even Kalrondren's crest deflated.
"It's....not for everyone, yes," a low, uneasy growl added to his shifting wings, tension visible in their stiff frames. "Certainly wasn't for me. I bought it for Lerranya in case she would let me inside her, keenly aware that I'd...need a cock to remain stiff and eager to keep plunging into her, even if it wasn't mine. I'm quite certain I owe my mateship to this toy, for she held me against her for an entire minute before shoving me away. A big improvement compared to how quickly she got rid of me the previous times."
"It's..." Zeridran sucked a deep breath, and with it, a surprising amount of courage. "It's for females. You said it yourself. I need to..."
His wing immediately covered his face, the scales of his cheeks searing something fierce from merely entertaining this line of thought.
"Mount something, yes. But the truth is..." Kalrondren's wing eased Zeridran's to the side so that his gentle gaze could calm him down. "Seed collectors are big, cumbersome, even frowned upon contraptions. Good luck finding a skiff to ferry you one on the outer reaches of the town. You'd sooner find a dragoness eager to lift her tail for you."
At times, Zeridran felt like Kalrondren could reach into his very soul, to unravel all his frustrations, dissect every reticence that kept him from taming recurring urges he had forever fled from.
"This need...it will never go away on its own. With every erotic dream, your confidence falters, your self-esteem sags, your very initiative to even pursue those bold scenarios withers. What's the point, right?" Kalrondren's paw swept his away. "No whimpers. No excuses. No more delays."
Every time he spoke one of those heavy, all too demanding requests, his wing talon kept pushing Zeridran's head back into place, unwilling to let him look away, to once again allow him to flee to whatever convoluted reason he'd find.
"You will look at it. You will listen. And if you later decide to use it in the privacy of your home, then that is entirely up to you. But you came to me to find a solution to what ails you, and you will give me the courtesy of at least pretending that I have your attention."
Zeridran's unenthusiastic nod was enough for the tawny dragon to prop the toy between his forepaws, his oval pads rested on its twin lobes. "This one is the knot. Bulky, stiff, all too demanding to any untrained orifice, it stretches you so effectively your roar thins into that of a female. I'm not prepared for it myself, but these...."
His soft, appetizing pads that Zeridran shuddered at the simple thought of having them stroke the back of his head glided along the bottom of the shaft, gently running over the plump ridges etched into the smooth wood. "These ridges are like the sea. Treacherous, enthralling, ruining, they carry you into the depths of your mind, blotting out your surroundings, washing away your thoughts until all that remains is the raw pleasure searing through your tunnel."
As he said that last word, Zeridran's nether walls clenched, the shudder lancing through his pucker ominous, strangely...exciting. He tried not to dwell on it, yet as his friend's presentation continued, the grey drake found it eerily difficult to dislodge that perplexing feeling still tingling within his intimate depths.
"Then we reach the head, which happens to look exactly like yours, shaped after the tip of one of those ancient arrows, only plumper, smoother, and far more delicate. The way it knocks against your....mrrrr....not even worth wasting words on what has to be felt in order for it to be understood."
Though Kalrondren's words faded, his paws cupped, stroked, fondled the toy that all but matched Zeridran's girth when fully erect, guiding the young dragon's mind to his earlier offer, of those very paws trading away cold, rigid wood for warmer, softer, wetter, yet equally hard meat. His member surged at that alarming proposition, immediately stifled by the haunch draping it, the pang of seething shame diminished by Kalrondren's gleeful smile.
"And that is just the basics. For me, the best thing is that I no longer have to stretch and curl my neck so much it hurts while reaching for my member, and for what? To nick my most precious part against my fangs when my control slips? With this, I can just..." he feigned a few thrusts that almost touched his eager, trembling tailhole, "while my paws slide and slip over myself, controlling the pace in the most arousing and elaborate of ways."
Short, alarming spasms continued to pester Zeridran's tailhole, the familiar glow of arousal permeating his scales far too familiar to the young drake to neglect it. Despite the slow, gentle pulses coursing through his progressively shrinking malehood, Zeridran omitted the first and foremost rule of attempting to subdue his body's eagerness, that of staying put. The simplest touch against any surface, no matter how soft, sent his cock into a pleasured, upward arch, the arousal-caked tip slapping against his belly scales with a soft yet audibly wet sound to Kalrondren's keen senses.
"That is the sound of the inevitable," the charming drake pushed the wooden offering towards him. "I know how quick you are to conveniently forget things, but this...this is too precious to discard it based on bias. You may not possess my pads to stroke yourself, but you can wrap your tongue around your tip and squeeze it, similar to what I did. And when it hits you..." Kalrondren's drowsy bulk collapsed back on his side, pawing at the air like an entranced hatchling. "I'll let you be the judge of that."
Zeridran's forepaws reached for it, grabbing its smooth, polished frame for a split second before he tucked it under a wing to rid himself of it. Compared to Kalrondren, it was cold, rigid, lifeless. Why even make use of it when he had...when he had...him...
Zeridran scampered onto his paws that very instant, that thought so outlandish it set every scale of his on edge. "l'll...consider it. I better return before...Lardran..."
"You should," Kalrondren flaunted him that alluring, conceited smirk of his. "Don't want him to catch you in the middle of it now, do you?"
Heart pounding, dildo clutched in his tail, Zeridran's rushed steps carried him to the opening of Kalrondren's home, the disk sliding out of its own accord when approached from the inside. Not trusting his tail to hold onto such a peculiar possession, the grey drake slipped it into one of the saddlebags set by the entrance, then slid his head through the circle-shaped loop formed by its straps meant to tie it to a more complete saddle. Did Kalrondren put this one here? Its straps already fashioned for a neck carry?
Zeridran chuckled at his friend's ingenuity, futile as it was. To him, this toy was a memento; a curious keepsake to remind him of what transpired here, of how intense the rush of his seed felt when guided forth by Kalrondren's divine tongue.
It served no other purpose.
As noon bled into evening and the setting sun gave way to a tranquil night devoid of the hum of flying machines, Zeridran's thoughts carried him back to that one moment in Kalrondren's home, to the vulnerability he had felt while being assaulted by all of those wanton thoughts. Whatever flickers of shame and embers of guilt dabbed at the corners of his mind quickly vanished before the flames of lust once again ignited within him. His earlier ejaculation lasted so little; barely enough to savor it! Yet the simple thought of asking Kalrondren for a favor, to interfere with his paws or tongue stabbed the drake in the gut, twisting it into a tight, painful knot that wouldn't let go unless he snarled his disgust for such abhorrent weakness.
His seed...it must've tasted so...so...and to ask that of Kalrondren...
The heave of Zeridran's stomach convinced him to put that matter to rest, but resolve alone could never quell that urge to have more, especially after how intense his earlier orgasm proved to be while dreaming of Lerranya. Lardran had yet to return from the Eyrie, invited to spend the night in far better quarters than a barn filled with meager amounts of hay and the bare minimum of comfort. Though brushing himself with wet straps of cloth to erase the scent of arousal did not amount to a bath, Zeridran did the best he could with the single barrel of water he had at his disposal for such uses. Anything more required Lardran's presence, for not even the dragon of an elite scout had access to other facilities while not accompanied by a biped to pay for possible damages.
Never leave your appointed lodging without the formal colors. In public, maintain your rider's pace and avoid taking the lead. When approached by strangers, let your rider come forward and the trespassers. So many things he couldn't do on account of his species, with several dozen other requirements accompanying these former ones.
Was he in Kalrondren's place, Zeridran would have deserted as soon as he convinced Lerranya to join him. Better to die in the wilderness, set upon or poisoned by some conniving bipeds who took their sweet time to analyze his patterns, than succumb to the grimmer alternative. Whenever wars dragged on for too long, rebellions tended to falter. Cornered, with their options limited and their allies ever fewer, it was only a matter of time until the western empire assimilated whatever pockets remained of a civilization that was ancient when theirs was young. Was it hubris or determination that still kept Lardran's faction going? Zeridran pondered on that for a while, his thoughts dancing between his intricate relationship with the coyote and the promise of a far simpler life, far from cities raised to breach the clouds, from those they had abandoned down below.
Slumped into the hay, his thoughts spinning into a tempest of undecipherable emotions related to the earlier events, Zeridran found his attention inevitably drawn to the discarded saddlebag. To beat his inane fear of a mere piece of wood, the young male fished it out with the tip of his tail, finding it mundane, purposeless, almost laughable when tucked in the safety of his lone barn. Whatever feelings the toy had bred in the heat of the moment had long since faltered, confirming Zeridran's fleeting musings.
It was Kalrondren, not this bit of wood fashioned into a fake cock, that got his heart pounding, his blood boiling, his tailhole shuddering as if...as if he...
Zeridran's tail whipped the damned thing so hard into the hay that curls of dust rose from the explosion of dried wheat stalks. His gut immediately sank, the cold dread of potentially ruining a precious keepsake of his dearest friend overpowering the nauseating grip of shame. How could he even conceive such despicable scenarios, where Kalrondren's tawny form blotted the grey of his haunches, erect shaft aimed at the only available orifice of the male panting in need below him?
Breath heavy, limbs shaking from the adrenaline coursing through him, Zeridran's forepaws frantically dug for the toy, the weight settled over his chest vanishing as soon as it rested in the light, awkward clutch of his four-toed forepaw. No signs of battering marred its surface, the ridges presenting no chipping, the knot absent of any deformities. Though his first instinct was to shove it back in its leather shelter, Zeridran found his toes twisting and turning it in his grip, the rap of his claws along the ridges not only distracting, but strangely calming.
The novelty of his inspection slowly dwindled, the drake's virgin, curious mind reaching for the forbidden, scale-tingling scenarios that always made his tail stiff and his paws tight against the wooden boards of the barn. One by one, he buffeted those wanton desires to the corners of his thoughts, but it was all in vain. Lust already enkindled his senses; its gentle, stirring flames flowed through him, a pulsing rivulet of blood-curdling interest in a topic that Lardran never truly explored with him.
But Kalrondren....Lerranya...they wanted to teach him, their willingness overwhelming to a drake awash with sudden and incapacitating embarrassment. If they invited him into their home, if Lerranya teased him the same way Kalrondren did, he had to be prepared; to shed the unappealing hesitation of his rigid frame and strike picture of a modest male enraptured with her all too generous offer.
Nobody liked bumbling fools, least of all Lerranya, and as Lardran's companion, he had his status to uphold.
Properly motivated to start his foray into the life of a courageous dragon capable of making his own decisions, Zeridran tried to comfortably lounge on his side and attempt to regulate his panicked, off-putting huffs prior to slowly easing his eyelids shut. With the toy held firmly in his tail, the first image his lust-addled mind conjured was of Lerranya stretched in the same bed that had caressed his scales just earlier. Soft, wet, barely perceptible squelches wove their way past her silent moans, produced by the hefty ridges driving through her moist, puffed up lips. Though her eyelids fluttered with the strain to keep herself rooted in the present, the golden dragoness beckoned him to share her bed with a trembling forepaw, her plea torn to shreds by the guttural sounds of pleasure rushing past her throat.
Zeridran's tongue flicked over the tip of his muzzle, his breaths still as if to accentuate the heavy pounding of his hammering heart. Every fear he ever harbored begged him to keep away, to avoid falling into this elaborate trap, but he didn't. He settled next to her, the brown toy trading her golden tail for his slate grey one just as their bodies closed in on one another. While his erection grew, Zeridran guided the toy in and out of Lerranya's pussy, her strained, pleasured pleas to keep it going more arousing than her hot gasps washing over his throat scales.
Then, when his shaft almost hardened to full mast, her warm, humid lick completed the cycle, his barbs tense and ready to fulfill her request, seductively whispered into his ear. His tail was to cease its movements. The toy was no longer needed. Now that she overflowed with desire, he was to be next.
"Mrrih!" Zeridran yelped, brought down to a world of loneliness and musty scents by an untimely slap of his erection against his belly scales. The sensation of that hit, bothersome as it was, almost triggered his boiling point, his seed so painfully eager to fill his first female it cared not whether it all happened in his head.
It took the drake a few moments to wind down while dealing with the shocking truth of how utterly infatuated he became with the mate of his best friend. This...this wasn't right. No amount of reassurances from the two would ever wipe away this sickening feeling of scale-rattling disgrace. Whatever their reasons, Zeridran couldn't help but feel they did it out of pity, stirred by unimaginable guilt for a dragon who might die without knowing the soggy depths of a female molded around his tense, eager cock.
His fantasy all but ruined, Zeridran prepared to put the toy away, but his tail paused. Head heavy, temples pulsing with unfulfilled need, his cock hard enough to rival the tautness of the toy, Zeridran's thoughts skipped to Kalrondren. Ever fearless in the face of danger, strangely acceptant to experimenting with things other dragons would dismiss outright and always willing to share the exotic pleasures he discovered with others, the tawny male was not only a friend to Zeridran, but a mentor.
The things he said...the way he talked about the toy....the sounds he produced, filled with such genuine bliss unperturbed by Zeridran's visit...
No matter the stinging embarrassment seeping through his limbs weakened by lust, Zeridran lowered himself against a mound of hay, fighting through his inadequacy one lick at a time over the soft, light grey underside of his forepaw. Once properly lubricated, he stretched the stiff, timid limb towards his arched hips, pulled inward to shorten the distance between his reaching toes and his member. The imagery of Kalrondren's hind paws engulfing, gripping, squeezing and stroking his length vanished after the third rub, the uninviting surface of his forepaw too great a contrast to the silky, warmth-oozing pads of Kalrondren and his mate.
His tongue tried to make up for his failure, flicking over his engorged spade, grabbing it behind the arrow-shaped swell, then pulling it towards his snout. Right before it entered his outstretched jaws, a fearful, instinctive yelp burst out of the grey drake, the memory of his barbs catching against his fangs still fresh in his mind.
The toy. That was his sole option at this point, just like Kalrondren had predicted. Zeridran's belly lurched at the thought of putting that fake...thing into himself, his distaste for the toy almost overpowering his lust-filled state. Only...it didn't have to be the toy. At least, not to his mind. It wasn't only panic and revulsion he felt while Kalrondren outlined its virtues to him, but also intrigue, and something more. A feeling--no, a furtive desire to be claimed by the kindest, gentlest dragon Zeridran had ever known.
Was it not for Lardran's prolonged absence, Zeridran would have bolted out of the barn in an instant and take to the skies, erect as he was, if only to escape the gripping terror stemming from the coyote's inevitable conclusions. But loneliness did things to a dragon; it flared his boldness, fanned the flames of lust, bestowed the naïve confidence upon him that this would happen but once. A single try, never to repeat, meant to forever quell this maddening unrest.
Zeridran exhaled all his pent-up nerves, toy clutched in the swaying tip of his tail. Its agitation reflected his interior struggle, that of a dragon who willfully buried these most obscure and shameful of fantasies into the deepest recesses of his thoughts, never intending to awaken them. Several years of struggle, and all it took to tip the balance was this single, fateful day.
Keenly aware that this curiosity would forever taunt him in the dead of his lonely nights, Zeridran seized upon every ounce of willpower to go ahead with...whatever this was supposed to be. The further his eyes lidded, the stiller his breaths grew, and the nimbler his tail became. He was no longer in the barn, but sharing Kalrondren's bed, awash with the scents of his previous matings with Lerranya. The sandy colored dragon loomed over him, fangs flashed in that daring, challenging smile. He told Zeridran of what Lerranya might make of his trespass, then asked him if he would hold his ground while confronting her.
When Zeridran's timid lips remained sealed, the alluring male drew closer, his following words as soft as the licks along his cheek. He'd protect him from her possible wrath, as he had always done in their lair or otherwise, so long as he wouldn't piss in their bed from terror. Then, not even he would manage to hold Lerranya at bay.
Zeridran's gruff laughter had a dab of sick desperation to it, specific to a male who lived more in his mind than outside of it. The truth of his situation, with a toy hovering just above his constricting tailhole, hurt far less after the visit to his friend. It did not take a lonely wretch to do what Zeridran was about to. Kalrondren, a mated and fulfilled dragon, pleasured himself in this unique way not out of need or while overtaken with his solitude, but for the sheer pleasure it provided him with. So what if Zeridran's mental portrayal of his friend turned out to be seamlessly accurate to his personality? Who would see him and chide him for it?
Kalrondren would, for as soon as the dry tip of the dildo pressed against the ruddy, wrinkled flesh of his never explored orifice, the obvious made itself known to Zeridran. His heart a flutter of nerves, limbs barely coordinated in their hurry to dunk it into the water and lubricate it in the most impersonal of ways, the grey drake rushed to fulfill this prerequisite before attempting to do it right this second time around.
It was cold. It dripped, it trembled in his panic-stricken, uncoordinated tail. This was appalling! To try and swap a living, breathing creature for...for that...
Then again, why shouldn't he? What stopped him, the floating motes of dust? The still hay? The wood boards groaning under his shifting bulk? Knowing Kalrondren, the pervert would grow to full mast while simply listening to Zeridran's accounting of his experience, padded paws soon to follow in the rhythm dictated by him. While the grey drake's throat tightened and gagged whenever the fleeting thought of lubricating the toy by taking it in his maw crossed his mind, the same couldn't be said for his tail, or the hole placed at the base of it.
To his puckered flesh, the coldness of the water felt like a bizarre prickle, exciting in its novelty. A few softening yelps accompanied the timid dabs of the toy's tip against his entrance, dwindling down into a nervous growl as he became more familiar with those mysterious sensations. The fires of shame surging through his pounding temples would have frozen him stiff this past morning, but not now. Not anymore. Not after Kalrondren's lecture on what the toy could achieve, if handled to its maximum potential.
The motion of moist, hard, lacquered wood knocking against his entrance soon became familiar to Zeridran, not at all different from Kalrondren's teasing strokes in that area Zeridran used to detest. The grey drake kept at it, his breaths increasingly shorter, the kicks of his hind legs wider once the toy no longer sought to just knock, but to weave its way through and into him. Its hardness daunted him, for it lacked the warmth, throbs and flexibility of a real penis, but that was also the reason it captivated him, for once it was in, the toy wouldn't soften. It would retain its girth, unaffected by a male's innate need to shoot his seed once entrapped in the shuddering grip of a tight, constricting tunnel.
As his apprehension gave way to the reassuring glow of scale-tingling lust, Zeridran's eyelids draped over his eyes, trading the sight of his modest barn for the lavish lair of his beloved friend. Kalrondren's snout no longer hovered over his. It strayed between his legs, uninterested in his flexing erection, his attention taken by the clamping motions of his taut tailhole. At times, his look alone conveyed thoughts better than words could hope to. Kalrondren had every reason to be smug, for he understood what dwelled under a male's tail far better than Zeridran dared to previously discover. Aware that the time for foreplay passed, his tongue wasted no moment in wetting his already worked-up flesh, thus worming its way into him without as much as a warning.
"Kraaarhhh!" Zeridran yowled. It hurt. It burned his panicked, pulsing walls that had never been stretched before. And yet, the fire surging through him carried little of the specific sting Zeridran had always anticipated. What his inner muscles registered felt akin to an intense, ravaging flame burning away his trepidation and stiffening his cock like it never hardened before. Every barb on his shaft attained its clearest, sharpest form, his spade swollen to its limits, barely able to withhold his molten seed from exploding all over him.
Zeridran pulled the toy out of himself, putting an end to those surreal waves of almost unbearable delight. With his tailhole emptied of the very thing it clutched, everything dimmed to that bleak, numb state, an oppressive fog meant to smother his potential, as indicated by his already sagging cock.
He...he actually...longed for it to make its way back in? For that bizarre sensation of being filled, of going against the very order of things? Males mounted, whilst females were to be mounted, but what he just experienced completely shook him, turning his world upside down.
There was no going back, now that he had unearthed this curiosity that demanded proper exploration.
Strangely addicted to the acuity of those waves of sharp, biting pleasure, Zeridran eased the toy's head back into himself, the tight, involuntary squeezes of his flesh sending surges of untamed pleasure through the rest of his frame. The more of it he managed to wriggle into himself, the sharper everything became, his sensitivity as great as that of his virgin shaft, if not more so. Though only the toy's spade made it into his canal, it felt far bigger than just a few inches of wood, its hardness unparalleled to that of a real cock, as was its sluggish advance meant to let Zeridran feel every millimeter of it.
The first ridge that popped through the puckered entrance of his quaking orifice felt as if a boulder entered him. His head shot upward in unison with his member, the feral cry building at the back of his throat stifled by mind-reeling bliss laced with just the right amount of pain to flare his adrenaline levels higher than he ever expected.
More. More!
Zeridran robbed himself of breath, teeth gnashing against one another in a foolish attempt to stand against a tide of carnal impulses that could never be quelled. The second ridge felt just as demanding as the first, the third more so, and by the time the fourth plopped into him, the drake saw nothing but bustling stars. Struck by instinctive fear of losing his mind to this enrapturing feeling, Zeridran pulled the toy out, the same ridges that had gone in now tunneling their way out, causing his member to jerk in attention with every soft squelch out of him.
"Nrrrhhhh!" his faltering cry cascaded out of his maw, his insides the battleground of fiery serpents lashing at one another. Too quickly, too eagerly had he taken more than half the toy's girth, his logical thoughts swept aside by the mystifying promise of an orgasm unlike any other. Instead of taking it slower like Kalrondren had suggested, the virgin drake shoved the toy back into himself, its shapely tip and hard, textured ridges ploughing through him in waves of mind-bending ecstasy.
The desperate throbs of his cock hinted at the inevitability of his climax, but instead of pacing himself, Zeridran seized the opportunity to stretch himself to the fullest; to feel the toy reach where no tongue or cock had ever been, a small spot the size of a button that, when pressed, completely obliterated his self-control.
Paralyzed by the most potent orgasm he ever experienced, Zeridran couldn't even let out a single sound, trapped in his own mind and body by that deep, drowning pleasure that never seemed to end. It was as if the entire world shrunk into this singular moment, stretched into infinity by his strained, primitive senses lacking in the capability of processing this level of visceral fulfillment.
"Grrr.....graaaaaaarrrrrr!" His cry finally exploded out of him when his gasp for breath could no longer be contained. A sharp inhale had to make do, for in the next instance, the knot shoved deep into him robbed him of his control again, barbs stiffening to refuse while his cock continued its messy rampage, the spurts scalding as they burned their way out of him.
After a few more squirms and several frail attempts of his trembling tail to put an end to the too taxing orgasm that now threatened to rob him of his senses, Zeridran conceded to the stiff girth of the toy lodged into him. Weak, faltering moans rolled past his taxed, drooling maw, his chest as tight as his cock with the breaths he could barely let out, with the never-ending streams of seed his abused shaft still kept ejaculating.
Just when the darkness of exhaustion began creeping in, a familiar cry revived him to awareness, the one he had been waiting on all along. Panic, raw and strong, spiked through every one of his scales, making the painful situation of his pleasure-depleted tailhole all the more apparent. His afterglow, seed and strength all but spent, the hardness of his cock began to hurt, as did the persistent tightness of the knot that spread him apart far too well.
Curled into a moaning, defeated ball sprinkled with sticky musk all over, Zeridran tried his best to compose himself, to subdue his pounding, terror-filled heartbeats and regain control over his rebellious, pleasure-stricken body.
"Zeridran! Oy, come out here....see what....brought you!"
The grey drake's head would have immediately swerved in the direction of Lardran's voice, had it the ability to do so. The canine's footsteps carried little in the way of sound, the patter of his claws undistinguishable over the thunderous thuds of his temples that seemed to drill their way into his skill.
Lardran. He was home, he...he would find him, twisted in a loop, face all contorted and smeared with all that...
Every fiber of Zeridran's being brimmed with the urgency to get up, to assume his best behavior, to greet his father and partner with due respect. Only...he couldn't. It was as if the knot plugged his very senses, its demanding thickness keeping him trapped in an orgasmic state that tapered off far too slow. A wide, cloudy pool of seed mixed with precum lingered under his still throbbing shaft, broken into small, thick, sticky gobs made all the more apparent by the thinner fluids slipping between the floorboards. It reeked of raw solitude, the smell of sex so overpowering Lardran must have already picked it up.
"Khhhrrrrr!" Zeridran groaned, struck by a flash of pain. The warm, pleasure-inducing pulses meant to keep him trapped in that bliss filled statis began to weaken within his walls, making room for the other, more nefarious sensations due when stretched in such a persistent fashion. Zeridran's tail tip futilely tried to dislodge the toy from his anus, its base handle too narrow, its knot too meaty, his flesh too tight to simply surrender it. Two tugs was all it took for Zeridran to yelp as if he just had his first orgasm, the delight of having his taut tunnel stimulated in such exotic ways still present.
"Larnkroth's breath!" Lardran rushed to kneel right in front of his throbbing tailhole, unbothered by the puddle of seed he just stepped into. "What did you...how on Jelnevrann's spear did you...all the way in?"
"Please," Zeridran mouthed in between his sharp, pained squeaks now that his cock had no more to give. "Take...take it out..."
"Or what? Gonna stab me with that?" Lardran chuckled nervously at a joke Zeridran would have swatted him away like a fly, had his tail weak, trembling tail obeyed him. "Give me a minute. Got just the thing."
"Don't leave me!" Zeridran wanted to roar, but the comical sight of the coyote's paws fashioning themselves some hay shoes due to the stickiness of the seed covering his pads took away what little breath he held.
He did this to himself. He deserved the outcome. Excruciating as it felt to still be stretched past the faltering of his anal shudders, his body still clung on to the memory of his orgasm, the trickling tip of his cock now leaking a few droplets of cloudy precum. If he waited a few minutes longer, Zeridran had no doubt another orgasm would overtake him, unless his conscience gave in first from either strain or mortification upon Lardran's return.
Larnkroth's breath....what did he get himself into?!
***End of chapter 1***
Thanks so much for reading this story! If you enjoyed it, please give it a fav, and if you like my writing, make sure to watch me to keep up to date with my newest content ^^ In case you want to support me, you can do so on Patreon in exchange for early access content(no paywalls): https://www.patreon.com/cheetahs