FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“It was good to be the Emperor."

Monarch of the East Empire, Ruler of the Island, Lord and Master to every subject, and Commander to the most potent race in all the world, he was the Emperor, strongest of all Dragonkind, as close to Godhood as a Mortal being could be. Mithril plates were grafted onto his scales, this ancient suit of armour the only one of its kind, and it rendered him immune to the Divine power bestowed by the Sun, Moon, and World Gods. Magic, Skill, and Ability would all diminish on contact with the metal, and when combined with the power and vastness of his draconic form, it rendered him as good as invulnerable. He was of the Western Dragon subspecies, four legged and feral, large enough to fill a room and overwhelming in magnificence.

His armour itself was decorated by a lattice of platinum and gold, a series of nodes wrought of precious metal arrayed across his chest and back to allow him to dress himself in a waistcoat of gemstones. His own scales were black as night, perfect to accentuate the kaleidoscope of colour in his jewels, and sinister crimson eyes shone more brightly than any of them, potent in malice and strength of purpose. His wings spanned thrice his length across, his tail a battering ram made lethal by the decorative blade affixed to its tip, his teeth like swords, his claws as knives, and his own Evocation Magic manifested in his breath, for it was only the inside of his maw which the armour did not nullify.

He had usurped the throne from an unworthy sibling, and expected that one day he himself would be slain by one of his Heirs or rivals, and his royalty seized in a shower of blood. The Emperor lived his life in constant vigilance, wary of every draconic relative, jealously guarding his inherited Hoard, his bed a pile of every valuable to be found within his Empire, and the maintenance of his impoverished nation nothing but an afterthought. That was left to the Vipers to worry about.

Legacy had never much been something that mattered to the Emperor. He desired the continuation of his bloodline of course, but didn't have particularly high hopes for either of his Hatchlings. He would have had a few more of his mate, had he not torn out her throat mid-coitus when a fit of passion had turned his mating bite lethal. No race of this world could procreate with any other, but the many subspecies of Dragon were as varied as they were viable, and the small humanoid Eastern Dragoness required magic and potions to survive the magnitude of his cock on the best of days.

The thought of using his perfect masculinity on the imperfection of his progeny churned his stomach. It was his right as the patriarch to claim the virginity of his daughter, but had chosen not to indulge himself in this case. His eyes had been drawn to Moira as she slowly grew into a young woman, but by the time she was developed enough to make the claiming of her body a meaningful act, the influence of her Sin of Gluttony had made itself apparent. The larger frame and chubby body she now presented him with was disgusting, an aberration to the lithe subrace of Eastern Dragons, and the sight of her these days especially brought bile to his throat.

A great pity that if he hoped to have for himself another Heir or two any time soon, she was the only Dragon of breeding age that was available within the span of his Empire. So depleted a race they were that incest had become not only the norm but the custom, pickings were indeed slim. Though, it came with some benefits. His male brothers and cousins were so terrified that he would come to slay them and steal their mates that he had already pushed back the claiming of his daughter thrice so that he might extract more gifts from them!

Perhaps he might claim one of their mates anyway as a demonstration of his arbitrary power. Any Dragon with the slightest imperfection was destroyed the moment that they emerged from the egg, and flaws developed later in life were just as ruinous. Were Moira not so useful to him as an enforcer, he would have devoured her a long time ago. But she was as cruel and vicious as she was loyal, the dissidents that dared speak out against him hunted by her and eliminated without a trace left behind. She was almost certainly eating them, he was sure of that, so never delved any deeper into the matter. The fat waste of scales could have her meals in peace. She was probably the only one that he could let his guard down around, subjugated and docile, her subservience demonstrated in a lifetime of service.

As for his son, aside from his lessons on precisely how the young male should submit to a more powerful and dominant masculinity, another right as patriarch, there was not much to be said. He fancied himself a reformer, but those never lasted long before another Dragon with a greater hunger for power slew them. His male Heir had now succumbed to his Sin of Sloth and become a mindless creature, sealed away in the East Wing as the Secret Jade Fiend, overcome by the Conjuration Magic which endlessly spawned the most troublesome guardians. Better to simply lock him away, than to obliterate an entire region of the Palace as collateral damage to their eradication. Though, a solution to that particular problem now presented itself in the emergence of a Saint into the world.

His loyal pawn, Moira, was the first to become aware of them, for she was about the only one who paid attention to reports of happenings outside the hierarchy of the Jade palace. Here was a man that could resolve their Fiend problem quietly, with no damage to the palace and no loss of reputation, the Secret Jade Fiend eliminated as easily as the Black Fiend of the North. And here as well was an opportunity to extract a gift from the Trinity Theocracy, a tribute for the peace between their nations. His daughter had returned early with dreadful news. The offering of a dozen Dracite crystals had been stolen – though he was sure that it would turn up eventually. After all, one of his own citizens was the culprit. And if you burn enough villages, someone will eventually talk.

All but one would go into his private Hoard. Just enough of the crystal would be distributed to prevent a mass exodus of his people, to keep them bound to the land, struggling and toiling on this meagre stipend. The idea of their suffering brought a smile to his face, but the idea of his subjects at all was so small a passing musing that even this satisfaction lasted only for a moment.

He had not entirely decided what to do with this Beastlord after he had finished with him. A month of waiting for his audience had been a fine demonstration of their positions, a disregarding of this blessed Saint's status, and the starting block of their relationship. Apex Ability users were historically not unlike himself, wielders of indiscriminate power that shaped the world around them however they desired, invoking their own sense of justice, indulging in their vices, it was always tyranny. But this one had sworn himself to the service of the Pontiff of the Trinity Theocracy, the mouthpiece of the World God.

Their status as an unknown quantity was troubling. Should he eliminate this Beastlord before he proved to be a problem? Or, so easily swayed into the service of the Pontiff, could he perhaps be bought instead? He was known to be a man of honour, adhering to a Knightly Code and good to his word. To neuter him forever would be as easy as extracting a promise.

Paranoia gnawed at the inside of his head as he languished in his throne room, Moira at his side, the blue Dragoness wrapped in a pink kimono and sat upon a small chair. The space was vast, and open to the sky, with enormous marble pillars supporting the walls of the surrounding Jade Palace. The East Wing in which his son was sealed, the West Wing for his daughter and their guests, his own private quarters, and most protected of all – the Snake Pit, a fortified sanctum in which he kept the ten Viper males.

The Beastlord knelt before him inside this great audience chamber, accompanied by his attendant. The Human wore the ceremonial armour of a Theocracy Gryphon rider, and with him was a Manticore clad in an elaborate yukata and looking strangely out of place. Special dispensation had been provided for this race to be permitted in the East Empire as a member of Raphael's party, but she did not look pleased to be the recipient of his magnanimity. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that this weak looking thing was sizing him up.

Introductions had been made, and a formal admonishment for the loss of the Dracite which he took particular pleasure in dishing out. All the more so in how it made the Manticore at the side of his guest squirm and grind her teeth. Now, the Emperor stretched himself out, sweeping his tail across the stone floor, and shifting his body to have his jewelled waistcoat shine in the light of a hundred flame braziers, “What reward do you claim, Beastlord? Even with your failure to ferry the tribute, you are owed this. What is the price you shall extract of me for the service of dealing with my Secret Jade Fiend as you did the Black Fiend of the North?"

Well, that was quite convenient phrasing.

Or so Raphael thought as he glanced to the Black Fiend of the North, his Pet at his side.

Their long wait had ended in a summons to the peak of the mountain, their invitation providing only a few hours warning before palanquin would arrive to take them up through an ocean of Viper soldiers to the Jade Palace. One attendant was permitted, and while Raphael had trained himself to better command the newest gifts of his [Tame] Apex Ability, Kali had undergone conditioning under Raine to pass herself off as his Lady companion. The Manticore looked quite ravishing in the traditional attire of the East Empire, but had not been able to dispense with the scowl of being pressed into these confining clothes to begin with.

She hated every moment of it, and had complained for the entire journey uphill, whining constantly about everything from the compression of her breasts to the awkward positioning of her scorpion-like tail. Etiquette lessons had ultimately been abridged into an instruction that she stay silent and have Raphael speak on her behalf – for every roleplaying of this scenario had led to her telling whichever of his Pets played the part of the Emperor to fuck off and die, or be challenged to a fight.

Raphael had a promise from Hideki to fulfil, the curing of Prince Rush of his Fiend state even though that meant that their ultimate fate was to be tamed by him. This would certainly be problematic, as Rush was the natural Heir and would have the throne should his father pass on naturally rather than by death to a rival. The mere possibility that a foreigner would gain such a line to the ultimate power of the East Empire was one which the current Emperor would not permit easily, and preparations had been made for the possibility of violence.

In truth, he was seething just as much as Kali was. He'd been rather wary of the Pontiff when he'd first reached the Holy City, and eventually found that the man was trustworthy – but this Emperor was quite the opposite. He was faced with evil, and just how cut and dry the whole thing was irritated him greatly. It was frustrating, as if this entire nonsense world was pushing him to react, and the sensation coalesced into an uneasiness inside the pit of his stomach.

Of course, the correct answer to this question of his reward was to ask for a token sum of gemstones. He would take Prince Rush for his own, and depart with the fury of the Emperor at his back, his promise fulfilled, and his own internal oath to not interfere in this nonsense world as best he could kept. But it was here that a fuming Raphael went off script.

In his time travelling over the East Empire, there had been no shortage of tales of the villainy of Dragons, the nation in ruins to their hubris. Stories of destroyed families, people like Hiroyuki, the warping of the Viper race, endless and pointless skirmishing, he felt the pressure of all of that darkness. Evil was the nature of this creature, interwoven into their being, a Hoarding racial instinct melded with the intoxication of power to create a true Monster.

He would have liked to have said that this was the moment that he finally decided to properly oppose the Emperor. But in truth, what compelled him to motion was a single look which Moira gave him. It was not the forlorn hope of a victim that wanted to be saved. It was resolve. A resolve which he had seen before. When he had sallied forth to face the Black Fiend of the North, he had seen that same expression writ across the faces of the Knights that joined the hunt. All had a vital endeavour before them, for the turning away of the threat against their home was the only way to save the Holy City. And every one of them expected to die in the effort.

Raphael chose to ruin her resolve.

Before his minds eye, he had envisioned so many scenarios play out, and none of them ended well. But he had read enough trashy light novels to recognise an impending flag for tragedy, and he rejected the narrative. Whatever Moira's plan was, he would bring it to an end, even if it meant making a bit of a mess of their own strategy. Hopefully Dia would forgive him.

“If it pleases you, your Majesty – I would like the Princess Moira to be my Pet."

The Emperor blinked.

What nonsense was this? His mind worked quickly to map it out. The Beastlord was known to have quite the collection of Pets, and a Necromancy user would likely be quite valuable to him. After all, it was this vein of Magic which held sway over all of the healing spells. Very useful for maintaining his pawns! But, while Mages were vanishingly rare, why his daughter? She was disgusting to look at. And he imagined that her cruelty and appetite would be antithetical to a Knight.

Though, the place of a Dragoness was ultimately that of a commodity. To be bought and sold, traded for favour, taken as a mate and discarded when no longer useful. Labour, connection, influence, pleasure, breeding, a Dragoness had plenty of uses. But why would anyone want one as revolting as Moira? She was a very useful enforcer, loyal and competent. But no such devotion or purpose could balance out the sin of her flabby arms and large stomach, her rounded face and broad maw. Just thinking about it made him shudder!

Oh. He understood. That was it. This cocky little Human was making a power play of his own! That was the only explanation! This was some petty revenge for being made to wait for a month, or for some other perceived slight! Raphael could not act against the Emperor, so he would take Moira to his room and torture her as a vent to his frustration instead! How devious. It was almost worthy of respect.

He looked to Moira to see her stony-faced. Yes. She understood too. If he gave her to the Beastlord, he would certainly kill her to get at him. But… she was less valuable than a pile of gemstones. Replaceable as an enforcer. Replaceable as a breeding tool. This might even be quite the excuse to claim one of his siblings' mates instead! But, it could not be too easy, “How bold of you, Saint. You dare ask for my daughter as your Slave? Your hubris knows no bounds. Just like a Dragon!" His voice was deep and sonorous, “I could be convinced. If you were to speak an Oath for me as well."

Raphael wet his lips, “What such Oath, your Majesty?"

“Never shall you wield your [Tame] against the East Empire." How easily the opportunity had arisen. Moira was a minor sacrifice to make in order to extract this promise of the Saint – a man who had proven that his word was his bond. If politics was this easy all the time, he wouldn't have needed to slay so many of his own kin for their infractions! His daughter was his Slave, and a Slave was easy to replace, her limited agency across his Empire now to come to an abrupt and unforeseen end.

For the Dragoness, her moment of shock finally passed as the two men discussed her as an object to be traded as a token between them. She panicked, seeing decades of struggle, years of effort, and the terrible risk of her plan jeopardised, and for the first time, Moira spoke before her father without first being spoken to, “Honoured Father – you cannot-“

Moira got no further into her uncharacteristic outburst before a backhand of his feral paw sent her to the floor in a tumble of scales. No call for her silence was needed to be made, her part in this conversation moot. She curled up into a ball, moaning in pain, and the Emperor casually continued, “What say you, Saint?"

“I accept." He spoke quickly, for it looked like his own companion was on the verge of some sort of impulsive act of her own, “I swear that I shall not use [Tame] against the East Empire."

A grin broke across his face, his maw broad enough to swallow a man whole, “Excellent. I am most pleased. A gift of Dracite which I shall yet retrieve. A pact of neutrality. And the clearing of the East Wing of the Jade Palace. Yes, this is worth one mere Dragoness, undesirable as she is." He peered down, the enormous creature as vast as most houses, “I wish to see your power in use. [Tame] my daughter. Her true name is Moiral."

The Dragoness was dazed by the blow dealt by her father, and pulled herself to her knees to see her fate delivered. Raphael administered his will, and the power of his Apex Ability bound her fate to his own in the wake of this whim, “You are henceforth mine, Moiral. [Tame]."

The conclusion of their audience came after another hour of platitudes, and a demonstration of Moiral puppeteered across the audience chamber to the amusement of the Emperor. Disinherited and stripped of her possessions, the Dragoness was now a Slave, and walked silent in the wake of the Beastlord as they left behind the Throne Room to move into the Guest Quarters of the West Wing. Here they would have the rest of this day and the night to make their preparations before their venture into the East Wing to deal with Prince Rush tomorrow.

“Master, how long until I can take off this ridiculous fucking outfit?" Kali whined quietly, conscious enough of her surrounds to keep her voice down, “How dare that scaly fucknugget look down on us! We waited a whole month just so he could act like a fucking dick for an hour, preening like the faggot Gryphon? I can't wait to kick his ass!" She giggled, “And welcome to the team, dumbass. Bet you didn't expect Master to bag you out of nowhere like that, eh?"

“Quiet, Kal. The walls have ears." Raphael whispered it, and they passed into their elaborate quarters to find a luxurious suite fit for royalty. The trappings were silk and gold, every furnishing garish, the world framed in marble and jade. They'd access here to several rooms, for bathing, for seating, and for eating, even a balcony which offered quite the view with the ocean to their right and ahead, the coast spanning to their left beneath them. It was by means of this opening and the sheer cliffs below that their companion had made his entrance.

Sat at the end of the large bed was Hideki, “Honoured Sir Beastlord…" The Harengon ninja bowed, “I have taken the liberty of ejecting any Magic Item listening devices, and have made preparations for phase two following my infiltration…" He looked past him, “Greetings Lady Moira. I believe Sir Bravura has won a bet. Lady Dia shall be most displeased…"

Raphael closed his eyes, still heated with that feeling of annoyance, “Dia is always displeased with me about something. I'm too lenient, or not forceful enough, or too intimate when I fuck, or forgive when I should discipline. Ugh. I would have thought she'd be pleased that I'm taking some agency in things?"

A diplomatic answer came, “It is because the tactics of Lady Raine were sound, Sir Master. Lady Moira was best dealt with in the aftermath, rather than at the start of the plan." He glanced to the side, “Alas, perhaps Kali and I should take our leave so that you may explain things to her?"

“Hell no! I wanna see this! And how come I'm the only one that never gets a title!?" But a look from Raphael had her sigh, “Fine. But you made me do something I super hated today, so you'd better be ready to pay me my due, Maasssteer." She stuck out her tongue and retired to the next room.

Which left behind a Moira which had been mute with despair since her enslavement. It was only now in the privacy of this chamber that she finally broke her silence. A great many efforts had been ruined, and she had walked as if in a dream since, waiting to wake up. But reality crashed in with all of its accompanying rage, “How dare you." She snarled, “I don't know what you lot are up to, but I shall resist you with every fibre of my being! You insult my exalted and esteemed self with your [Tame]! My vengeance shall be your ruin!" The Dragoness spread her arms wide, and let her assumption be known, “B-bring forth your implements of torture! My pride will not be overcome b-by the likes of you!"

The Beastlord tilted his head, “You think I acquired you to torture you?"

“You have made no secret of your hatred for me, Beastlord!" The Dragoness scowled, “You teased me by calling me pleasing to the eye! You made sport of my heart! You have scorned me, and been most disagreeable! And now you have chosen v-vengeance against me rather than a pile of gemstones! You are petty and cruel and I hate you!"

Raphael took a slow breath. Dealing with Moira was always annoying, and he was already on edge, “Look. There's a lot that we need to talk about. The Dracite, your brother, what I mean to do here, everything. I'll explain it all. But before I do, I want to at least put that accusation to rest – I do find you pleasing to the eye, and I don't hate you."

“L-liar!" She heaved, her arm shaking as she pointed at him with a clawed finger, “This is some psychological t-torture before you apply your blade to me!" More words slipped out, “Years of planning! My resolve! Everything! I was so close! You have destroyed it all for your whims!"

Raphael closed his eyes for a moment, and then finally embraced a frustration which had been growing inside him ever since he stepped into the Jade Palace, “I don't give a damn about your resolve or your plan! Whatever the hell it was!" He stepped closer, “You looked out there like you were ready to die for some lofty ambition, and now you're stuttering at the idea of pain! You pretend to be some evil bitch, but you let my Pets live, and in the distant past you saved Bravura's life! I have no idea who the fuck you are!"

The Beastlord pointed his own finger accusatorily, “But my gut tells me that you're a good person! And I do find you pleasing to the eye! And I have had enough of quibbling about it! I know you're suffering – and I don't care if I'm forcing my own sense of justice, or if it's the tyranny of power, or whatever! I won't let you be miserable anymore!" He snarled out the words, “You're a female Dragon - you were born a Slave! And I have made you mine. From this day forth, you're my Pet, and my name is Raphael – but to you it is Master! Now stop standing there like an idiot and [Sit] down!"

“S-such vulgarity! How dare you speak to my esteemed self in this way!?" Moiral put her hand to her chest, but followed his command by the compulsion of [Tame], sitting at the end of the bed and scowling at him, “You are as much a tyrant as any Dragon!"

He'd built up a head of steam, “I understand now why the World God said that you would test me! Just talking to you is frustrating! How dare I? How dare you! I swore to myself to not interfere with this nonsense world, and I threw away all of that just because you looked a bit sad! Because you looked like you were alone and suffering and I couldn't stand it! And now I'm going to save your brother and conquer this country, because even though you've been nothing but harsh with me, I cannot just leave you alone! Because three brief meetings was enough for me to affirm that I like you! Damn you, Moiral!"

“L-liar! Is this your idea of revenge? You mean to say such things to my e-elevated self, my divine personage – only to make me fall for your words and then to laugh at me!"

Raphael gave a mighty huff, “You looked conscious of your appearance and vulnerable when we met. It was adorable. You whisper under your breath some nonsense about nobody desiring you as you followed me back in Westport as if you thought that couldn't stir my heart. And now – as I ruin your plan, the effort of what? Years? Oh yes – I know plenty of what you're up to, even if the endgame is a mystery! Between the scowling and the nonsense – you can't cover up that look of relief on your face!"

Her hands immediately came up to touch her cheeks, “N-nonsense! My esteemed self is not so weak! I am a m-mighty Dragon!" And then a great heaving sigh, she focused not on the revelation that he knew a portion of her truth, but his claim to like her, “No. I don't believe you. Look at me. Look at this." She clapped her hand against her belly, “I am desired by no one. P-please end this cruel joke!"

“Gods, Moiral! So, you're a little chubby! So, what!? That's supposed to be fat for a Dragoness? Even if your Sin was not Gluttony, you've got a large frame and that's it! You're plenty desirable, and that's not a joke!"

She was quiet for some time after that. Her eyes closed, her expression one of turmoil, her voice scarcely above a whisper, “…Prove it."

“What?"

Moiral regained her superior tone, “Prove it. You cannot, of this I assure you. You have ruined my grand design on a whim, and I do not believe your empty kindness. Whatever your plans are for my brother, whatever your intent for the East Empire, my refined personage shall put that all aside for now to make this declaration: You are known to be a good man and Master to your Pets. Of course, you would lie for the sake of my self-esteem. The truth is, that you find me as revolting as any Dragon does."

Her face became thunderous with fury, “So long as this point stands, my divine self shall believe nothing that you say! Saving my brother? Conquering the East Empire? I will not accept any of this as truth, because of your first lie! You do not desire me! At best, you pity me! You think that I, a great and powerful Dragoness, grandest of all mortal species, is beneath you!? I spit on your pity! You may command my body, but your foul trickery has blackened my heart against you forever!"

“Strip." She blinked, taken back immediately, so he made it a command, “[Strip]. I'm going to prove it right now. It always turns out this way somehow, anyway. I'm going to take possession of you and force you to accept my words as truth!"

“Y-you barbarian! You savage! T-this is your idea of proof!?" She stood, compelled by [Tame], and began the long process of disrobing her elaborate dress, unwinding a long ribbon belt, “W-what does this prove? That you can close your eyes and imagine one of your more desirable Pets while you h-have your way with me?"

“You seemed to enjoy watching me with those Pets the last time we met. But it's only the two of us here. And I won't close my eyes to think of anyone else." The Beastlord made his declaration, “I do find you attractive, Moiral. There's nothing wrong with how you look. You're very pretty as far as I'm concerned. And your pride and superiority is quite endearing as well. So, fine. I accept your challenge. We shall put everything else aside until this is settled. There's no point explaining a thing until you believe in me. I'll prove that I desire you, if that will win your trust."

She swallowed, “Y-you would take the sacred virginity of a Dragon Princess to prove a point!? Have you no sense of decorum? You lesser species cretin! You are a pervert! A foul sexual deviant!" The belt was discarded at last, and the rest of her clothes were soon to follow, large breasts revealed, but her femininity hidden between scaled thighs, “I-I shall not allow you to t-toy with my heart! I am despised and unwanted! Y-you shall not make me believe o-otherwise!"

Raphael kicked aside her pooled kimono as he approached, “You don't need that anymore. Dragons don't wear clothes normally, but you do. And I won't let you hide your body anymore. It's mine, and I want to see it." He gave a slight harrumph, “You're a Slave. You're my Pet. I have acquired you. And I have sacrificed a great deal to make you my own. I have done so because I desire you. I won't let you call yourself despised and unwanted anymore."

The Dragoness covered her chest with her arms, “P-perhaps you have done this only as a step of a plan that I cannot foresee? P-perhaps you shall dispose of me the moment you have used me as a part of your strategy?" She huffed, and there was a sadness there, along with a harrowing loneliness, “I-I do not believe it. Any moment now, you shall l-laugh at me! I am d-disgusting!"

He reached out, ignoring her words and seizing one of her horns, “Antler-like, long and forked, brown with the texture of lacquered wood. She's about my height, six feet, but these add another foot onto that, at least." He traced the points with his fingers, “Slightly sharp. And quite impressive looking, if I'm honest."

“What are you d-doing? Aren't we supposed to be h-having sex?"

“This is how I take possession of my Pets." Was the answer as always, “I'm going to take stock of every inch of you. And you're going to listen to my commentary. There's plenty about your body that's attractive to me, Moiral – and you're going to hear it all." He smirked, “Are you perhaps in a hurry to skip ahead?"

“O-of course not!" She grit her teeth, “I am mentally preparing myself for your moment of ridicule! When your honied words cease and insult comes, you shall not hurt me! D-do you imagine a few compliments shall have me lower my g-guard?"

“Hmmm…" Raphael mused, “I thought you stuttered because you were nervous, but when you're not putting on some sort of persona and thinking hard about your next line, you're naturally a little skittish, aren't you?" He closed his eyes for a moment, running his fingers over the smooth horn, testing the texture of it, “I can see why you're so guarded. But if I've learned anything in this nonsense world, nothing breaks down walls like a good fuck and a bit of intimacy."

The Dragoness took a deep breath, and focused on her next line simply in the ardent desire to disprove him, “Don't think you know me, you worthless creature! I am the all-powerful Moira! Feared and loathed Necromancer! H-hated and despised!" She winced, losing her flow at the end as her own neurosis crept into what was normally so easy to say, “You seek only to s-shame me!"

“Shaming you quite amuses me." Raphael quipped, “And I'll shame you until the sensation of it ceases. You're not hated and despised by me. I don't know much of the real you, but I like the parts that I do know. Your antlers are elegant and beautiful, and I'm moving on." His hand drifted to the side of her face, “Eyes are blue and bright. And the scales are of two tones, a striking azure, and a softer cerulean. Not to wax lyrical, but it reminds me of the ocean."

Moiral scoffed, “I am an aquatic Dragon, you fool. My subspecies is for the seas!"

“Is that so?" His thumb brushed her cheek, “There's a black line dividing the two shades of colour at the throat, with the chest and underside in the lighter hue. There's a slight smudge where I press against it. Make-up." He gave a slight sigh, “It sharpens and makes angular features that would otherwise be soft and rounded. The muzzle is not too long but quite broad, chin and aft of the cheeks with hard scales like little spikes, small fins for ears, and a tiny horn – wide but scarcely an inch, crowns the nose."

“A-are you quite done commenting on my face?" The Dragoness fumed, “The indignity of it all is unbearable! A lesser species is assessing me as if I were a mere Slave!"

“You are a Slave. You have always been a Slave." The Beastlord affirmed, “Your father gave you to me. I've taken possession of you. Your plan, your hopes and dreams, they all belong to me. I'll have your body and everything else as well." He took a slow breath and considered his position, “And despite the mess we're in, I would not have done something so drastic as using [Tame] on you if I did not desire you. Do you believe me when I say that I want you?"

Her face scrunched up, “Of course n-not!"

“Would you be pleased if I desired you?" And then he added a compulsion, “[Answer]."

A snarl came in turn, a wince, a cringe, and then, “Y-yes." Moiral bared her fangs, “D-do not think that it means a thing to hear me say t-that! Any woman would wish to be desired!" His palm remained to her cheek all the same, “You make s-sport of me! Tearing out confessions with your arbitrary p-power! I shall not y-yield! I am the apex species!"

Raphael resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his fingers tracing the side of her throat, “The scales are soft to the touch. Exquisitely so…" His Deathclaw was always quite rough, and despite his Viper being much more yielding, a Dragoness with a lifetime of careful scale oiling and beauty treatments was profoundly comfortable against his hand, “Shoulders are a touch broader than mine, and there's not much muscle beneath the scales." He pulled her arms away from her chest, “Hands end in claws of the same darkest blue as the facial spikes, filed to rounded peaks. Looks to be a natural hue rather than paint. There are small fins too, here at the forearms…"

And now the moment that he had been waiting for. Entirely unashamed, the lecherous Beastlord grasped those tremendous breasts in his hands, “Wow." For the first time with any Pet, Raphael paused his usual commentary. There was quite the spectrum of chests across his Monster Harem, and each had their own allure. Khut's pleasant handful, the enormity of Kali made all the more vulgar by her comparatively thinly framed body, the rows of Dia, the featureless snitties of Raine, and the absence of Kara. He would never admit to any of them that he had just found his favourite pair.

“The scales are almost as soft as skin, and the grooves of the natural armour gives a truly unique texture. My fingers sink in, there's a perfect weight, yielding but not too much – with a slight resistance as I press…" He flexed his digits, “There are nipples, too. Areola of the same darker blue as the outer scales, contrasting to the cerulean of the chest."

That didn't make much sense. Did this species of Dragon give live birth and then nurse their young? Or was it like a platypus where offspring came from the egg but the females still produced milk for them? Mammal, reptile, both, or neither? The [Creation] user that designed this species must have been a true pervert, and Raphael had never been more appreciative of the bastard.

“A-ahem!" Moiral snapped him out of a musing which had continued for some time, the Beastlord drifting off into his own world as he groped his Pet, “A-are you q-quite done!?"

“No." He grinned, “These are the largest of all my Pets, and match your body type well. I don't think I could ever tire of them." He pinched a nipple, rolling the particularly broad areola between his first finger and thumb, and then doing the same to the other as she reacted with a slight squeak unbefitting of a Dragon, “Quite sensitive too by the looks of things. Does having your chest played with arouse you? [Answer]."

Another unfair demand of [Tame], “Damn y-you! Y-yes." Her hands had fallen to her sides and now twisted into the sheets below her, “Y-… you do not find them… u-unsightly?"

“I love your soft body and your pillowy breasts." Affirmation came casually, “So, indulge me while I have my fun." He took a seat beside her, drew close, and sealed his mouth around one peak, capturing the nipple between his teeth and passing his tongue over it. Again, that slight squeak came, the noise of suppressed enjoyment, but Raphael was barely paying attention by this point. He now possessed a truly fantastic pair of tits, and had every intention of enjoying them.

Enjoyment lasted for some time.

By the time he was finally ready to move on – with the utmost reluctance – he'd spent quite a while suckling at them both, rolling the nipples between his fingers, exploring the give in the mountains of scaled flesh, and otherwise worshipping the amazing chest. The Dragoness was left looking quite flushed, her eyes slightly glazed as if brought to a trance. Protestations had ceased while he worked, and it was only now that his hands drifted lower to her stomach and abdomen that she flinched back into consciousness.

Dragons demanded perfection, and to their eyes the slight chubbiness of this Dragoness was abhorrent, with the weight here combining with thick thighs grand enough to entirely hide her femininity from view. She was not egregiously fat, and if she were a Human then one would struggle to even call her overweight. But it was undeniable that Moiral was rather chubby, and it was at her midriff that this was most apparent. Here upon her belly was her Sin Rune, the Gaping Maw of Gluttony inscribed in black, the mark around the side of his palm and stark against the paler blue of her scaled underside.

She found her voice, “I'm d-disgusting…"

After the joy of so long at her chest, it sounded truly depressing to hear such words. But Raphael did not remove his hands, instead letting them drift lower to similarly soft outer thighs, “I like it." He took a slow breath, “Your body is soft, and that's good. Why would you need to be muscular? You're not a warrior, you're my Pet. I like how you look. I like how you feel. Your chest is excellent. This ass is unreal. Your belly is comfortable. You're beautiful – and every Dragon that has ever said otherwise is completely wrong. For an apex species or whatever, the tastes of your kin are complete shit!"

“I-I have stretch marks!" Her tone was crushed and pathetic.

“I don't care." Raphael harrumphed, “You'll have a lot more when you carry eggs for me. They don't bother me – and if they bother you, then I'll find a Potion of Regeneration somewhere in the Holy City."

“C-Carry eggs!? D-don't be r-ridiculous!" Moiral took a slow heaving breath, “There is n-no sum that you could pay a Dragon to m-mount me. Despite e-everything! D-decades of service! M-my father threw me a-away so easily! That was my l-last chance to b-breed! N-nobody wants me. I-I'll never be able to h-have hatchlings!"

“[Tame] makes me compatible with all of my Pets. I'm going to breed you myself." The Beastlord smiled, “Only a male Dragon can rule the Empire, right? Someone was always going to make a Slave of you in the end, Moiral. I got to you first, and I don't regret it. And though we've left a great deal unsaid, you've hardly kicked off about being enslaved by me. Despite your words, you've not resisted me at all." He gave a slight huff, “If you could do anything. If the Empire and all of its baggage was a whole country away, what would you do?"

“I… I could b-breed?" But revelation gave way to incitement. Her nose twitched, “W-what a foolish question!" But Raphael's face said that he was serious, and despite the lack of compulsion, she eventually spoke, “I… n-no – you would l-laugh at me!"

“You know I won't."

Moiral squeezed shut her eyes, “D-damn you…" She swallowed, “The p-politics. T-the drama. I hate it all. When I-I see the villagers, I'm j-jealous!" Her head shook, “A-All I want is to just be a h-housewife. I-I like to cook. I l-love baking! I just want to h-have hatchlings, and raise a f-family, and b-be loved. B-but I'm the only one that can destroy the E-Empire, a-and I'm so scared and I'm so a-alone, and I don't w-want to d-die!"

The Beastlord wrapped his arms around her and pulled her draconic muzzle into his chest, her whole body shifted to the side to collapse into his embrace. He shushed her softly, “It's alright. Nothing bad is going to happen to you…" Raphael let her hide her face in his cloak, “If you want a simple life, then I'll give it to you. I've made you mine, and I'll take responsibility for that. So, when the dust settles, I'll bring you back to the Holy City, far away from all of this. Would you like that?" And he brought her sobbing to an end with a command, “[Answer]."

“Y-yes." The response was immediate, this time without resistance.

“Good. Now I can do this without feeling any guilt for making a Slave of you." Raphael found a slight smile, “Do you think that I desire you now?"

“Y-no!" She howled out her answer in a great heave, and Raphael's face fell. No matter how earnest he was, no matter how clear his enjoyment of her body, his kind words, and his promise of a future – what could mere sweet words do when set against a lifetime of being called ugly and undesirable? No male wanted her, and despite all of her deeds in his favour, false though they were, the Emperor had disposed of her at the first opportunity. He was set to combat the superiority complex of a Dragon melded with the worthlessness of someone put down by every peer she'd ever known.

“[Lie] down. Get [Comfortable]. Put a [Pillow] under your lower back, I know what it's like for you tailed species." Raphael grit his teeth, “I need to prove that I really do want you if you're going to trust me, right? I'll have you acknowledge me, Moiral. Then we can talk through everything that we've glossed, I'll hear the plan I ruined and tell you mine, we'll see things through in the Empire, and when we're done I'll take you home, introduce you to your new family, and put an egg in you!"

The Dragoness wiped her face with the back of her hands and positioned herself as ordered, her legs still pressed together. But when Raphael cast aside his armour and joined her on the overlarge mattress, the first thing he did was grasp at her inner thighs and with strength unreasonable for the muscle mass of a human, he parted them and continued his commentary, “Legs are digitigrade, more fins there as well - and the tail is long with small lighter blue sections, the end is like a dolphin tailfin. An aquatic species indeed, with all of these fins you're normally hiding under your clothes..."

And his eyes settled on his prize, “Femininity is…" There was nothing but a line, where scale met scale to form a narrow groove, and with questing fingers, Raphael reached forth and spread her, “That's…" If not for Kara he would have been very taken back, “There's no clit, no folds, no features at all. The inner flesh is dark blue against the cerulean of the front scales, and catastrophically wet. Is this all from when I played with your chest?"

The question was rhetorical and drew no response. Moiral had covered her face with a pillow and was holding fast to it. But, a whimper came as Raphael slowly pressed a finger into her, “Interesting…" He sought some spot of pleasure, something to explain the featureless nature of a Dragoness cunt. Even the Deathclaw had a large clit for the sake of stimulation, with enjoyment found in the grind of hips. And Raphael wracked his brain to try and figure out what he was dealing with.

His finger swept a slow circle, and she squirmed with a muffled gasp into the pillow, “Hmmm…" Any spot seemed to be as good as any other, with no outright telling point of ecstasy. There was nothing to focus on, but Moiral did seem to enjoy each twist of his motion regardless. It was then that revelation struck.

Dragon cocks were ridiculous.

It was a universal fact. Or perhaps a confirmation of the fiction of the world from which Raphael had come. Dragon dicks were stupidly exotic, replete with great ridges, knobbly bumps, sometimes barbs, and occasionally even knots. With males having the capacity to stimulate the entirety of the cunt of a Dragoness, of course the entirety of her insides were equally sensitive. There was no need for a clit, or folds which would protrude beyond the armour of scales. Only a vent for the sake of breeding, and regions of enjoyment personal to the individual female. Lucky for Raphael with his smooth Human cock that Moiral seemed to find her grandest pleasure in something so simple as depth.

But it would be some time before he got to that. For now, he explored a wonderful tightness with his finger, adding a second to slowly twist the digits into her body, pressing the fingertips against her walls to seek out any additional spots of enjoyment. Her legs were quaking at his sides, her voice a grunt into the pillow, and at his hand was a wonderful sensation of heat and wet. Her insides were silken, but the tremendous wetness seemed hesitant to leak from her body. Dragon femcum was remarkably thick it seemed, and as he drew back his hand he observed drooping strands of juices, as viscous as treacle, with lecherous amusement.

He'd the experience of quite a few inhuman cunts in this nonsense world. The broadly spreading cloaca of a Viper, the juicy space of a Cerberus, the sleek opening of a Deathclaw crowned with a thumb-sized clit, and now the sensitive vent of a gushing Dragoness. Each their own delight, and the human femininity of Kali and tiny near-human cunt of Khut were not to be forgotten either. It was enough for him to take this Monster pussy in stride, and with no hesitation at all he licked her femcum from his fingers to find it almost thick enough to chew.

“Salty. Very salty. But not unpleasant at all. You've a tasty cunt, Moiral." He watched her squeeze the pillow all the more tightly in response to his vulgar compliment, and with a grin decided to pile on all the more, “Tight and wet. I'm going to take my time learning this cute little pussy, every little spot that makes you whimper and moan. I want to see you melt. You're worth conquering."

Fingers returned with purpose, probing, twisting, gouging. There was no clear target for him to focus on, so he would find what made her whimper into her pillow, what made her legs quake and her tail twitch, what made that thick femcum trickle forth. He found her body to be rather yielding, a third finger added without difficulty. It seemed that a Dragoness had potent enough internal muscles to clamp down on the smaller members of the littler draconic species, but a grand enough capacity for even the larger ones, a versatile cunt for a variety of exotic cocks.

“[Squeeze], Moiral." He commanded, and needed to withdraw to only a single finger as she crushed down on him. The slow pumping of the digit seemed to invoke as much pleasure as the deep probing of three fingers, and Raphael came to be quite absorbed in his experiment. Another order came, “[Relax] and [Open] up for me…" The Dragoness yielded with another muffled whimper, as one finger became two, three, four, and then with his free hand dragging her thigh downward, an entire hand pressed into his Pet.

It was an undeniable orgasm, a moaning full-bodied shudder which had her tail thrash, and her voice take an edge devoid of venom and doubt, the pitched wail of a pleasured female. She muffled herself with the pillow to little avail, hugging it to her face to quell her voice as Raphael explored her insides. He had found several spots which made her squirm all the more and committed them to memory, taking ownership of this exotic cunt, “Good girl. Cum for your Master…"

“I-I-Ah!" Whatever she hoped to give voice to was sublimated by the pleasure of his hand, as the Human made use of his unreasonable strength to press against squeezing internal muscles when she clamped down in orgasm. She would not release the pillow, continuing to hide from him, “I-I'm sorry…" It was wrong to hear an apology, and what followed annoyed him all the more, “M-my body isn't good for a-anything…"

Raphael shook his head, “Your body is perfect for what I want of you, Moiral." His wrist sank into her yielding flesh, “You're going to be a Housewife. You're going to be my kept woman. No more politics. No more drama. Just baking and breeding. All you need to do for me is raise your tail and say, 'yes, Master'. You're going to be trained into a good little slut for me. I'll addict you to pleasure, and become my willing whore. My breeding Dragoness."

“Yes, M-mas, no! S-slut? Wh-whore?" Moiral was almost swept away by her lust, and racial pride manifested from nowhere, “I am an a-apex species! I'm s-supposed to rule!"

His fingers flexed, “But you don't want to, do you? You've already admitted it. I own you, Moiral. So, I own your dream as well. I'll strip away everything except that." He grinned, enjoying himself, “I know you're a lewd creature. I know you keep a toy cock in your room. I know you pleasured yourself watching me mate with my Pets. Did you enjoy the sight of it? Have you thought on it since? [Answer]."

A response came muffled into the pillow, “I-I have… Damn you…" Her arms bulged as she pressed her face into the fabric all the tighter, and elaboration came unbidden this time, “I-I thought… in another life… it wouldn't be so b-bad… t-to be… it d-doesn't m-matter…"

An overlarge cock and a small Skaven rat-wife had rendered Raphael quite used to the feel of a cervix, and his probing fingers found one now. But rather than the usual long periods of stimulation, pleasure, and battery to claim access to a womb, this time he found that his fingertip breached the internal ring of muscle with almost no resistance at all. Ah. Of course. Another few inches of capacity to be surrendered to larger draconic species. A clenching Dragoness really was a perfect sleeve for all types of cock, wasn't she?

“This womb belongs to me. It's mine." He forced the entirety of his hand into this intimate spot, and found that rather than squirming from a penetration far deeper than should be allowed, Moiral seemed to be just as pleasured to being touched here as she was the passageway of her cunt, “Your body is so responsive. You're a very erotic Dragoness, and I'm going to make you embrace that." Curiosity continued to drive his probing, and a second orgasm took him by surprise, “Oh? You cum quick and often. Is that a Dragoness trait or just you?"

The treacle-like consistency of her femcum was quite addicting to curl his fingers into, and it drew a lewd squelching noise from the motion to accompany the shifting of his wrist back and forth, his hand deep inside her cunt. It became a fist, and slowly, Raphael began to use it to fuck his prize, rocking her back and forth, “If you really do want to give up everything else, then do it. Surrender. Become my owned Housewife. My slut, my whore, my breeding Dragoness. Let go of everything that's making you feel these wretched things, everything that's making you hesitate."

“I-I!" Her belly and swayed wildly, her thick thigh compressed by the grip of his free hand, her cunt spasming around his wrist, her womb seizing on his fist. This was nothing like her toys, nothing like her fantasies and fingers. The Human that now owned her body was fucking her with his arm, promising to fulfil her secret desires, take away all of the anxiety, the fear and the pain. But was it real? It still felt that at any moment he would pull back, smirk and ridicule her.

But, pleasure wore away at her resistance, and honied words soothed her draconic ego. Perhaps a larger body would be more ideal for a life of baking and breeding? She could be a Housewife, free of responsibility, with nothing to do but indulge her enjoyment of cooking, and to raise her tail for her Master. She flinched, realising that she had referred to him by that word in her head for the first time. Would that be the cost of her peace? Could she really abandon everything to be his slut? What even was a slut? What did it mean to be the Beastlord's whore?

She felt like the answer would come if she surrendered to this pleasure, gave up everything and let him have her. Let him own her. Her womb ached, and her yielding draconic biology made it every bit as sensitive as her vent. Her instincts pined for her to be bred. Yes. She was born a Slave. And now she was the Slave of Raphael. The balance of everything she knew of the man, all that she had learned, it justified this leap of faith. So, she surrendered everything. Well, almost everything. Moiral gave up all but her final gambit.

“S-stop!" And it quite surprised her when the man did, his fist still clenched inside her womb, the core of this glowing heat, “I-…" Moiral slowly lowered her pillow, “W-…" She swallowed, “W-will you please m-mate with me, n-now? I-if you desire me, t-then p-please breed me…"

Raphael gave a slow breath, “Not until you ask me properly." He grabbed one of her legs, lifting it high with his unnatural strength, and with this new spread of her cunt, his arm thrust down into her lewdly squelching femininity again to inspire a squeal of ruinous pleasure, “Not until you call me 'Master' and beg." It was no command, but a compulsion he would win through proving his enjoyment of her body, his dedication to making this Dragoness cum herself into being his yielding slut.

Her toeclaws curled in another orgasm, her expressive body convulsing as he denied her the greater pleasure of rut, “I can see your undertail clenching when you cum, Moiral. I'm going to fuck your ass as well. Maybe not this time. But I will. Because I own you, and I'm going to enjoy all of you." He found her cervix again, and seized it inside his fingers, an action which would be painful to any other female, but a Dragoness who opened up for him so easily, with a vent made only for pleasure, moaned sweetly, “You're going to learn how to suck my cock in a way that I like, too."

His first returned to deep pumping motions, each one driven by the downward throwing of his whole bodyweight, accompanied by snarls of effort and the keening moans of his newest slut, “You're going to learn to eat pussy. I'll have you clean my seed from the cunts of my female Pets and play with them for my entertainment. A Viper is going to put her tongue into your womb. A Cerberus is going to lap at the entrance of your vent. And after I've used [Tame] on your brother – I'm going to stack my Dragons and fuck you both!"

“A-ahh!" He fed her fantasies, and the Dragoness responded to them with her wailing pleasure, her fingers twisted into the sheets, her chest heaving as breasts swayed, “P-please!"

It was not enough. Raphael growled, “I'm going to have my Felyne bind you down, every fucking inch of you. I'll blindfold and gag you, and I will fuck your slut vent into ruin. I'll have you kiss your brother and share my cum between your maws! He will suck my load from your sloppy pussy while I fuck the seed out of him and onto the floor!"

His motions became particularly vindictive, “I've had it with this nonsense world! If it's so desperate to move me to motion, then so be it! I will have the royal siblings for my own! You're going to be my servile whore, Moiral, my breeding Dragoness, my slut, my cocksleeve. And I'm going to fuck the Prince just for pleasure! You're both going to surrender your apex-species cunts to the cock that's destined to own you! Now, give it up! Surrender! Spread your pussy and beg like the good little Slave you are!"

Power and aggression, war and the victory of the worthy, a Dragon would yield when beaten, offer their throat or raise their tail, with a legacy of might bred into their race. Moiral could no longer deny this man. His arm withdrew, and her fingers came to frame her vent, digging in to spread herself wide, and she swallowed, gathering her fleeting resolve, “Please… fuck your Slave, Master…" Her chest rose and fell, her heart beating rapidly, “I-I surrender! I'll be your s-slut, I'll b-be your whore… P-please… treat this unworthy breeding tool well…"

His armour was gone, discarded with practiced swiftness to fall to the ground in a clatter of metal plates, buckles, and leather. A foot of thick Human cock, scarcely reasonable to his own build and on the limit of what would be ludicrous, he placed the head of his maleness at the entrance to her cunt, “[Clench]. As hard as you can."

It was a command given not to have her adjust to a mass smaller than his arm, nor to heighten her own enjoyment even. Raphael gave the order so that he could experience the pleasure of claiming this Dragoness by effort, and knowing her submission by the bludgeoning of her insides into the shape of his cock. His hands grasped her hips, and with a snarl of effort which became a genuine roar of defiance, he pressed his maleness into the thick femcum of her heated snatch.

“That's it… squeeze me tight like a good little whore…" Only an inch, and the force of his body tested the rigidity of his cock as he pressed it into her. If not for the enhancement of his maleness by the power of [Tame], the crushing ruin of her clenching vent would have been enough to bruise, but with a cock like an iron sword, Raphael would slay his Dragon. There were no rows of folds like Kali's tail, or Raine's undulating snake-cunt. In this smooth vent, pleasure came for the man by the tightness of her body, Moiral's insides clinging to his cock, and her heated femcum stirred by his shaft.

He'd come to love the inhuman feeling of these very alien cunts, and now sheathed half of his cock into this conquest, delighting in the expressive features of the Dragoness, uniquely telling of her feelings for a reptilian countenance. It was a combined strain of effort as she engaged her internal muscles, and the pleasure that pressing her insides into that grasp rewarded her with, “You're going to learn how to squeeze the way I like, Moiral. You'll be shaped to my pleasure, as a Slave should be, a slut that lives for her Master…"

It was quite light degradation considering how rough with his words Raphael could be with his Pets that were that way inclined, but against the ego of a Dragon, the knowledge that she was now owned, and her surrender had made her the slut, whore, and breeding tool of a mere Human, it came with a taboo pleasure. She whined out her moans, indulgent in the depravity of it, claimed by a lesser race, her dream twisted to his purposes and sold back to her.

Her cunt tingled at the first taste of cock, and her mind flooded with not only pleasure, but relief. She'd finally lost her virginity! These first few inches of penetration were enough to have her lose control of her clenching insides to accept a few more in a great jolt as her body instinctively relaxed to the loss of tension. No wonder the Beastlord kept a whole Monster Harem! If this was the pleasure promised by sex, if this was the potency of a male that could fuck with unreasonable vigour, then to become addicted to his cock was only natural! She moaned again. No, more than just cock. His mouth, his fingers, the promise of greater depravities to come, his Mastery of his Pets, and the hope that to be a Housewife would be accompanied with the intimacies of romance.

Moiral squeezed shut her eyes, her whole body on fire, wracked by electric pleasure, her venom and her doubts dispelled with every inch driven deeper into her core. If he was allowed to lose himself in the moment, to demand that he would conquer the Dragons, to take everything, then why should not she be so bold herself? She found her resolve, and then captured his gaze, “I want it a-all! I want to be f-free of the Empire! I-I just want to bake, and to breed, and to r-raise our hatchlings! I-I want to be r-romanced and l-loved, and h-happy!"

She bucked her hips back, reciprocating pleasure for the first time, “I-I'll call you Master! I'll be your slut, your wh-whore! I'll be your S-Slave! J-Just, please! B-Breed me l-like the others! L-Love me like the o-others! I-I just want to be w-wanted!"

“You're mine, Moiral." The Beastlord snarled, the tip of his cock finally pressing against that loose cervix, “Your body through [Tame], your mind by allegiance." He grit his teeth and furthered his effort, as things became much easier for these final few inches, “I'll have your heart, too. I want you. I desire you all the way down to your fucking soul. Now, submit – and get knocked up like a good breeding Slave!"

“Y-yes, Master!"

Hilted at last, Raphael looked down at his conquest, tears in her eyes, squirming on the end of his cock, breathing deep from pleasure and effort. To hold fast with her internal muscles was exhausting, but it took just as much grit for the Beastlord to fuck her through that vice of pleasure into a yielding womb which lacked such grip. Dragons mated hard and fast, with exotic cocks and cunts receptive to all types of pleasure – sexual stamina unnatural to either sex. So of course, her Master and his boundless vigour would be ruinous.

He scowled his effort, “If I fuck you loose too quickly, then I'll put my cum under your tail until you learn to withstand me! Keep that cunt clenched up and [Tight]!" The demand became an order unbidden as Raphael lost himself to rut. Her cunt was silken divinity, but despite its unique traits, this was nothing special in his Monster Harem. No. What drove him wild with desire was the unbridled reaction of a Moiral which finally gave herself over to pleasure.

Her every exhalation was a bellowing low, a grunted moan which seemed to come from her very core. Her enormous chest swayed back and forth, her belly was a counterweight to the power of his thrusts, and every time his hips met hers there was a lewd squelch. But what he had here that was unique was the plapping noise which came with the slamming of his thighs against her softly scaled bottom. She writhed like a wounded animal, unabashed in her surrender to pleasure, finally gifted the mating she had always wanted, the fulfilment of breeding sex.

A race so receptive to pleasure, perhaps more so than any other Pet in his Monster Harem, came quickly and often, with no reasonable recovery period between her orgasms, they seemed to be mere peaks of pleasure, small rewards to the sensation of his plundering cock. True climax finally arrived for Moiral with the sensation of essence flooding her womb, and her legs locked around the Human to drag him close and hold him there, a roar in her throat as she was claimed by the liquid proof of his desire.

Even Deathclaw strength was insufficient to free him from her grasp, and Moiral reached up to wrap her arms around her Master and bury his face between her breasts, holding him fast with her entire body as rope after rope of pearlescent white filled her womb. Her moan was victorious, and she basked in the intimacy of sex, the Dragoness' mind overtaken with the fog of pleasure as she ground back against that perfect cock.

Perhaps he was right. Maybe a soft body like this really was the most ideal to be forcefully mated, a cushion against the power of the muscular human. If her destiny was to serve as his demure companion, with no need to grapple with the anxiety of politics, and no labour beyond the kitchen and childcare, then what trouble was it if she was a little chubby? If she could find it in herself to trust him, then she could leave everything to her man and finally be happy…

Submission was quite alluring indeed.

His hands were on her breasts, roughly fondling her, and the sensation shot lightning down her back straight to a heated cunt. Inside her grapple, he ground his hips downwards forcefully, fighting against the vice of her clenched femininity. Into her chest he demanded she learn her place, his slut, his whore, his breeding tool, his owned Dragoness. And she rewarded his conquering might with a quivering embrace, lusty moans, and another gushing orgasm of syrup-thick femcum.

A second load of cum in her womb brought forth a climax even more potent than the first, and as Moiral struggled to maintain the strength needed to engage her internal muscles, her Master dragged himself from her embrace, “[Flip]. Get on your elbows and knees. [Raise] your tail." Even without the command, she would have yielded to him, but the force of the control made her draconic vent throb with need. What need of he for jaws at her throat when his Apex Ability demanded such compliance?

She twisted on the spot, placing her face in her hands, her weight on elbows and knees, and her tail raised high to show off a vent oozing with him. Her clenching cunt kept most of it inside her womb, but as Raphael cast her dolphin-like tail over his shoulder and realigned his cock, he endeavoured to fuck her loose enough to have it cascade from her innermost depths by the time he was done. The battery of his thrusts now had her body sway on the natural suspension of her upper arms and legs, her breasts and belly swinging lewdly beneath her, “Keep your eyes [Open]. [Watch] your body sway…"

His hands were on her hips, and as Moiral looked down to see her most hated features made sport of, she boiled with shame and with lust. This disgusting body of hers was being made lewd, taken by her Master as an object of desire who revelled in everything about herself that she despised. His cum had melded with hers to drip down her thighs, his hips slammed against her buttocks with a loud slapping noise, and the Dragoness could not restrain her moans of pleasure.

He really did desire her. There was no denying it now. Now when he put her in a position which so showed off the features of her weight and then fucked her all the harder at the sight of it.

Pleasure came now in its most pure form, free of the taint of her neurosis, and she explored the fantasies he poured into her ear. Yes. He would fuck her as wildly as his other Pets and have her join in their orgies of debauchery. She would be bound and made sport of, be forced to eat the cunts of lesser races, and face the tortured pleasure of having them set upon her. But of course… she would be the favourite of her Master. Who else could be? Her race was the most superior, after all. And unlike her brother, she could give him eggs!

The thought of being gravid with hatchlings drove her to a final claw-curling climax, her mind obliterated into white surrender, her body falling prostrate, and her muscles slackening to release his cock in a flood of cascading essence from a ruined draconic pussy. She felt what remained of his orgasm spray over her back, like the lewd marking of some canine creature making clear by scent what he owned. An intrusive thought demanded that she rub it in.

Raphael had a lot more to give, but Moiral faced him with something unique. With her stamina failed, there would be very little pleasure for either of them in the fucking of a vent now so loose. Perhaps he should take his time teaching her the pleasures of anal? Or have her clean his cock while recovering her vigour… But with a sigh, he abandoned the endeavour. Not every claiming of a Pet needed to end in a marathon of sex.

So, he simply pulled himself up onto the bed, cuddling to the side of his acquisition and allowing her this much softer afterglow, “Do you believe me now?"

She was silent in response, and for a while he wondered if he should invoke [Tame] to force an answer out of her. But… then came the sound of snoring. Loud. Obnoxiously loud. The ruined Dragoness, her creampied pussy leaking his cum in a torrent of white, her face streaked with tears and drool, had collapsed in the wake of their pleasure into slumber. So much for their talk.

Her plan was still unrevealed. The location of the Dracite and her objective with it. It made some sense for her to hold off on her aims until he had granted her brother the peaceful end which Hideki as well had petitioned, but what then was to come? To that, he simply sighed. What did it matter? She was his Pet now, and he could simply ask her in the morning.

“Well, well, well…" A familiar voice came as the World God stepped out from behind one of the curtains, “Haven't you grown passionate, Mortal? Throwing away your non-interference in a fit of pique. Or perhaps desire?" He chuckled, “Three meetings to decide that you'd declare war for her? An act of kindness? A whim? Or perhaps a little chubbiness suits your tastes after all?"

Raphael huffed in response, already prepared for the jibes to come, though expecting them more from the rest of his Monster Harem rather than the World God, “Even if my idea of goodness if foreign to this world… I don't want to bend anything to my will, I don't want to control anything. But I know evil when I see it. And I want to take care of the things right in front of me at least."

A knowing grin came in turn, “With your amount of power, one could say that what is right in front of you is easily a country. Even if you put the young Prince on the throne, he won't survive there without his Master backing him. And [Tame] will have him do whatever you wish…"

“I'm not like Khut. I can't see ten moves ahead." He shook his head, “But, I've decided that I'm going to do what feels right in the moment. I don't want to have the feeling of frustration and anger and regret burning in my chest. I don't want to turn away from the darkness in this world and just let it be. Even if it's arbitrary, even if it's not my place… This is my nonsense world, now. And I want to make it better."

The World God seemed to dance on the spot, “Oh? Spend a while practicing that little speech in your head did you, Mortal? Not a bad Oath for a Knight…" He seemed quite pleased, “Your [Tame] is not the same arbitrary power as the other Apex Abilities. Not anymore. All of those extra skills, the strength, the speed, the magic, the longevity, it's all yours because your Pets love you, because of your relationships. You earned this power. And as World God, I say that you have the right to use it as you wish! Conquer the whole continent for all I care! It would almost be as entertaining to watch as these shows you provide me with!"

A coughing noise came from the next room over, and Raphael glanced briefly to the partially open doorway, and then back to the slumbering Dragoness. He didn't seem likely to be getting anything out of her until morning, which left him with one final responsibility for the day, “It all ends tomorrow one way or another. But right now, I've my Manticore to settle the score with. I'll see you again when I've cured the Prince of his Fiend state."

The deity waved him off, seemingly unconcerned that this time it was Raphael who had taken his leave of him. Quite ideal really. While he liked to watch the Human fuck, there was a far more important event soon to take place, and this time he would not be observing him take his pleasure of Kali. Because as the Beastlord left and the World God concealed himself from Mortal perception, the snoring of the Dragoness ceased, and Moiral slowly pulled herself into a seating posture and hugged her knees. A practiced liar for her many years of acting for her father. Her body was satisfied, validation having come to her at last, the sensation of being desired as she had always wanted, filled with the essence of her Master.

Her expression was conflicted, and the World God wished that he was allowed to interfere by offering some vital piece of reassurance. But, this was the fate that Raphael had set her upon, and the deity had promised to not manipulate him any further, for good or for ill. This time, it would be the World God that would need to have faith in his Champion that everything would turn out alright.

Moiral reached her decision, got to her feet, and quietly dressed herself, seizing this chance now that she was left alone. Her final submission had never arrived, and the Dragoness felt wretched for her deception against what she knew was undeniably earnest. But, there was something that only she could do. She had surrendered to Raphael in every way but one, allowed him to claim every bit of her but this final resolve, her last strike against the world she hated, “I'm sorry… Master." The word still tasted foreign on her lips, but she did not dislike it, muttering to herself as if hoping for some absolution, “B-but you're wrong. You and Sirrush are both wrong… This Empire cannot be r-reformed." She shook her head, “Even if the Emperor were r-replaced, the next Dragon to come will undo anything g-good you could hope to achieve…" Her eyes became steely, and focus came, “With this Dracite, I know what to destroy to end the Empire forever…"

She looked back one last time and was tempted. It would be so easy to cast everything aside and return to bed, or perhaps to venture into the next room herself. Raphael could have his victory, and she would meekly reveal her plan to him and apologise. But then, nothing would change. There would have been no greater purpose behind every secret defiance of her father, no vengeance for her mother and every other life lost to draconic hubris, and her own ruined pride would be dead forever. Her brother lacked the imagination to do what must be done, and her Master was too good of a man. Nobody could strike this blow but her. It must be done. And she could only hope that he would still want her afterwards.

The Dragoness took one last deep breath, and she fled into the night.

~ SevenWingedDragon ~

Note: Special thanks to User DragoonMan10 who seemed to quite enjoy some of the Bravura short with the Lizardmen. And to User NoNoNope for their speculations. With the final pieces in place, can anyone now hazard a guess at Moiral's final plan?

Thanks as always for every fave, vote, watch, comment, and reads as well. I hope that the people continuing to follow this series are still having a good time with it. It's your encouragement which gives me the enthusiasm to keep going with this. We're almost at the end of Arc Two, with Kali's Short coming up next, and then the Sirrush entry for our male Dragon. I hoped to get the conclusion inside Part IV, but I might have to add a little Interlude before the Epilogue. We'll see - either way, we're nearly done!

My momentum came back somewhat with this. I quite enjoy Moiral as a character (and quite enjoyed imagining what a Dragoness cunt would look like when Dragon cocks are all so exotic), and want to take a good look at the genuine person underneath all of the draconic bravado at the conclusion of the story. I wish I could add on something sinister like 'if she survives to it', but despite the drama, this is intended to be a bit of a relaxing read, a trashy light novel style of things where the stakes are less life and death, and more the preservation and advancement of character. Of course she'll make it. The question is what state her and Raphael will be in when they get there.

I hope to get the Kali Short done before Christmas and say it again there, but just in case I don't, I wish you all a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, or whatever else! I hope you enjoyed the story, I hope you have a fantastic bit of winter cheer, and I hope to see you in the next entry soon!

Have a most excellent day.