FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Salthanath's slow steps echo through the stone passageway leading into the jagged cliff-side, the first hundred yards barren and devoid of ornamentation. His escort - a group of young females, their four-legged forms armored with iron plates inches several inches thick. The amethyst drake can't help but enjoy viewing the sway of the warrior-women - rarely seen outside the confines of the Citadel Nursery. After all, he'd not returned to this, the place of his birth, for many decades - not since he and his nest-brothers had left for training at the Great Library of Al'kerzadath. Years upon years of work distinguished him, though - the youngest dragon in generations to be named Curator, though his position within the library is hardly the most important. Still, it was his rapid rise that attracted the attention of the matron mothers of the Citadel - that, and reports of his more physical attributes. Nearly half again the size of most others of his species, along with his rare coloration - normally considered a defect that would have rendered him unfit for consideration as a male permitted to mate - raised quite the debate among the elder females of his race. Months of it, really, accompanied by viewings and interrogations with long-distance scrying spells, before the decision was reached. Salthanath would be allowed to mate - but only with a solitary female, one who had borne but a single clutch of young in the past. Her line would remain pure, but their joining would create a second race of dragons, select progeny of other noble lines that had never been allowed to breed due to similar aesthetic flaws allowed to add their genetics to the efforts in the ensuing years. A chance, perhaps, for freedom from the evolutionary bottleneck the notoriously 'pure' race would otherwise face in the coming generations - and for at least some to chose their mates for love rather than by the edict of their rulers.

Of course, these thoughts were the last thing on his mind as the armored guards led him into the entryway proper, the plain walls changing over to something far more ornamental the deeper they walked, gemstones of every color worked into the rock, each facet glimmering with magically imbued light. No, Salthanath found himself more focused on trying to get a glimpse under the tails of the pair before him without alerting those behind - and found that a curious armor plate snugged up directly against the guard's nether regions, thwarting his effort. Curiosity far from sated, he takes to looking around, taking in the half-remembered mosaics lining the walls, trying to determine just how far underground they've traveled already. Not that he can even tell where the entrance to the Citadel lies in relation to more familiar landmarks, considering the last day of his journey was undertaken, blindfolded, in the presence of these same guards. As he walks, though, coming to the first truly open chamber, he realizes he's hearing a soft, wet sound that he simply can't place - it's not dripping water, nor the fountain he clearly hears ahead... But then his mind is taken from the enigma at the sight before him, the Chamber of Histories, the end of the entryway.

Grand, indeed, is the way to describe it - he spots the fountain almost immediately, rising more than thirty feet towards the immense dome of the beautifully sculpted cavern. How could he not? It showers the pool below the intricately carved marble spire with more than just water - the gold-rimmed gems set in the stone give off dazzling light of every color, the gems themselves precisely shaped to throw not just patterns of light, but murals of it, painting the alabaster walls of the cave with the grand history of the race - the founding of the Citadel Nursery, the glories of past monarchs, the lives of the heroes of legend... And the falling spray of water loans a shimmer to the effect that makes the light-mural seem to move, giving the figures portrayed an illusion of life! His guards notice his stunned pause as he takes it all in, nodding in respect - they may have lived their lives with such beauty, and they understand that the foggy memories of the males, all sent from their birthplace before puberty, cannot possibly reflect what they see upon entering. How could they?

A few moments later, though, one of the guards addresses him, snapping him out of his dazed reverie. "Salthanath? If you would follow us to the Communion Hall, now?" Nodding, dumbly, he resumes walking - though not without a longing look over his shoulder.

"The Great Library... Nothing in it, not even our most prized illuminated manuscripts, tell of that... Or compare to it!" His words are a mumble, more to himself than to anyone else, and the guards seem to realize this as they direct him through the labyrinthine corridors. After the splendor of the fountain, he hardly notices that the walls are ornamented with precious stones and metals - the tribute of a hundred thousand kings, as though they were of no more worth than wallpaper and cobblestones. The only thing that intruded on his pondering of that indescribable vista was the soft squishing sound that continued to occur as the entourage strolled towards their destination, along with an unfamiliar scent that left his loins tightening as the walk continued.

Eventually, though, they reached the immense double doors set in the stone, the huge portal seemingly made of solid gold with more inlays of diamond, ruby, sapphire, emerald, and topaz. The lead female reached up to grasp a huge silver ring, carefully tapping it against the door - to avoid deafening anyone within, Salthanath realized, as the sound reverberated through the hall. Even those gentle taps produced a booming that would be impossible for any occupants of the Communion Hall to miss. Several of those glimmering stones flash in a rapid pattern - a soundless invitation to enter, given that two of the females grasp the handles on either door, rearing up to do so, and giving a pull, the doors swinging smoothly open. As he steps through the door, he notices that scent again, strong but pleasing, though it doesn't emanate from within the room itself, seeming to come from the dragoness' themselves, a glittering bead of moisture running down the inside of one of the guard's hind-legs when he glances at her as he steps past into the room. A flicker of recognition runs through his mind, but before he can focus on the thought, voices greet him.

"Salthanath, thank you for answering our summons. I trust our message to you explained our purpose in calling you here?" The speaker is an older female, her body somewhat larger than his - dragons grow as long as they continue to live, after all, though the differences in an adult are often only noticed when acquaintances have been parted for a century or more. Along either side of the surprisingly subdued marble circle, inscribed with an old draconic proverb that reads 'Reason is our shield, logic our strong right arm, mindless faith our oldest enemy', stand a dozen others of the ruling class, six on either side of the Prime Matron - her daughters, the Matron Mothers of the Citadel Nursery. All thirteen are outfitted in a variation of the guard's armor - thinner, smaller plates, all of gold, with far more ornamentation - obviously a ceremonial garb.

"Prime Matron Tarecgosa, my gratitude for your reception is without bounds. You are correct, though I must admit the reason for choosing me for your... Experiment, escapes me," replies the amethyst-scaled drake replies.

"Ah, I must explain," the elder Matron intones, "for it was my choice. You see, I knew your father for many years - a good man, despite the tragedies in his life. Your mother..." Tarecgosa shakes her head as she trails off. "No one could have foreseen that mountain-slide. If it weren't for that... Well. You would have had many blood-kin, at the least. Still, that's not the reason for our meeting."

Salthanath remains quiet after the Matron's statements, obviously struggling for the appropriate words. "Well, if what you propose is a success, his bloodline will endure."

She nods, smiling. "Indeed it will," she responds, before gesturing to her daughters. "Leave us now, my children. I imagine Salthanath would be uncomfortable discussing this in front of you." They file out at her words, the purple drake realizing that he recognizes them, albeit vaguely - likely from his formative years, before being sent off due to the enforced segregation of the sexes.

After the Matron Mothers have finished filing out of the room via the far exit, Tarecgosa motions to the violet-scaled male, indicating that he should sit. "Now that we're alone, I suppose you'd like to know who has been chosen for you to mate with," she says, walking forward to sit at a comfortable distance from him as he arranges himself on one side of the inlaid circle in the floor.

Salthanath's blush at her words belies his earlier confidence, a reaction which only encourages a low chuckle from the older dragoness. "Indeed, Prime Matron. As I never expected to have this privilege, you can imagine I am quite curious." That scent he'd been curious about before returns, stronger due to the close proximity, enough that he finds himself shifting lest his ample endowment appear prematurely.

"So eager, I see," the blue dragoness responds - at this distance, he can finally make out the details of her form and armored garment. Powerfully muscled, as is appropriate for her age, the dragoness still in the prime of her life and cutting quite the figure, particularly with the rune-embossed gold of her armor reflecting in the light, the lines etched with powdered sapphires. "Well, this is a good thing. After all, you've already met the dragoness that you're to mate with."

His brow raising, Salthanath's query is obvious. "Forgive me, but... Who? Not one of the Matrons, surely? Given my status, I can only imagine you've chosen one of the guards," he states, finding it harder and harder to form words - or even coherent thoughts, that bewitching scent causing him to tremble in anticipation.

Tarecgosa's smirk is sly, and her answer to his question is enough to leave him stunned for a long moment. "You are wrong on both counts, Salthanath. Not only is your mate not of the warrior caste, it is indeed one of the Matrons." She pauses for a moment, gauging his expression - bewilderment, mostly, with a growing sense of realization. "Specifically, me." A clawed foreleg lifts to cup his chin, a single talon teasing the fine scales there, raking through the soft beard the male possesses, as she continues to speak. "After all, it was my decision to begin this experiment, my choice in who would be selected..." Her voice lowers as the elder dragoness leans in to whisper. "I'd wanted your father, decades ago, long before your birth, but he was meant for another. Since I cannot have him... I shall have his son!" The look in her eyes reveals a few things to the stunned drake - determination, excitement, and the anticipation of slaking a long-denied lust.

The intimate caress of the Prime Matron has an obvious effect on Salthanath, his body trembling as he realizes the entirety of the honor bestowed on him, along with the depth of the duty thrust upon him. Not that he minds the burden, such as it is! The nearness of her body, the scent of arousal filling his mind... His reaction is instinctive, and uncontrollable - his posture doesn't change, but a masculine counterpoint to the female's pheromones makes itself known as hot, crimson flesh drops free, more than a foot and a half of fat draconic dick easing into the air, smooth shaft standing proudly as his sheath peels back over his bulbous knot. "I... I... Matron, this is..." He's visibly at a loss for words, and it's only made worse as Tarecgosa steps back, ogling him openly as she begins to disrobe. Several clasps release the majority of her ceremonial armor, the only pieces that don't fall free the engraved torque around her neck, and the bracers around each leg, along with the odd plate over her groin - despite the fact that nothing visible holds it in place.

"Don't speak, Salthanath. Simply... Enjoy," she instructs, the blue dragoness arching to display her loins as she speaks. The method that keeps it in place becomes visible a moment later, as her hind-legs and belly contract - the plate lowers, slowly, a centimeter at a time, a gilded replica of a dragon's shaft, knot and all, the cause of the snug fit. As he watches those swollen netherlips splay and distend as the faux-cock drops free, it hits him that it's also the source of that squishing sound he heard earlier. Unable to take his eyes off the sight, his dick bobs and twitches in readiness - and he notices that the metallic shaft is only about half the size of his own.

Even entranced as he is, the curiosity that spurred his rapid rise through the ranks of the Grand Library is at work, and he can't help but voice questions. "Do... All females wear such a thing," he asks, trembling as he watches the slow slide of the golden replica slip wetly free, leaving Tarecgosa's swollen labia gaping visible as a slick moisture drools down her undertail and inner thighs. "And... Is that the average... Ah, size?"

The Prime Matron remains in her position, knowing the purple-scaled drake is stalling to enjoy the view. She does respond to him, though, her voice dropping into a lusty rumble. "The answer to both those questions is 'yes'. I wanted you for a reason - I knew you took after your father," she hisses, tail lashing behind her as she quivers in anticipation. "I crave fulfillment, Salthanath. To be truthful... You far outstrip your sire in many ways. Now... Give me what I want." The next thing the drake knows, a smooth motion has left him snout-to-pussy-lips with the wanton Prime Matron, her stretched folds kissing against her lips as she gives a lewd clench of internal muscles that leaves her pheromone-laden lubricant splattering across his face.

The drake's reaction is instinctive and immediate, the long, thick muscle of his tongue probing forward into Tarecgosa's stretched sex, his mind filing away all those little details of his first encounter with a lusty female. Her sweet, musky scent permeates his thoughts as he explores that ready passage, his motions causing the female to push backwards until her labia mash against her snout, her dribbling honey soon running down his chin and matting the fur of his beard. The reaction stirs him on, growling against the puffy mound presented to him in a way that leaves vibrations coursing through her most intimate flesh, his tongue dragging roughly over slick inner walls. There's several minutes of that lewd slurping under the blue dragoness' tail before he finally pulls back for a breath... And when he dives back in, Salthanath finds he can't resist exploring further - his lips seal against Tarecgosa's tailvent, lashing the dragoness' backdoor with that warm muscle for several moments, much to her audible delight. The sudden rimming might have surprised the Prime Matron, but she's certainly enjoying it, peeking back over her shoulder, obviously thinking she made the right choice in partners.

Salthanath finds he can't decide which of those warm entrances he's rather taste, and ends up swapping between the two fairly often, seeking to find those spots that make the dragoness tense up and shudder. There's plenty of that exploratory tongue-lashing, though - at least, until Tarecgosa howls out, a thick rush of feminine arousal gushing over the male's face as she hits her peak, tail flagged as she paints the drake's visage with that pheromone-heavy fluid. And, much to his surprise, he finds he rather enjoys the dragoness' squirting, his heavy maleness bobbing beneath him. In fact, he finds himself hearing a steady dripping sound, that he soon realizes comes from his own prodigious output, draconic precum running down his length at an ample rate. He sits back, dazed, his eyes fixed on the Prime Matron's loins as she continues to flex and dribble with the last few contractions of her climax.

"Ooh... Yes, I chose right with you, Salthanath." Tarecgosa's grin at the male is one of satisfaction and superiority, the dragoness' hips swaying for a moment before she turns around to face him. "Now, I want you on your back, my new friend," she rumbles, tail lashing behind her. She doesn't explain why, but Salthanath isn't about to say 'no' at this point - the purple dragon settles down on his chest first, carefully, avoiding squishing that girthy dick against the cold stone before he rolls over, limbs-askew and on display.

Of course, he doesn't expect what comes next, the female stepping over him and lowering her rump until she's sitting on his face, tailvent against his nose-tip, leaving him with little option for what to do as her muzzle opens, tongue extending to drag along his swollen glans before encompassing that lengthy shaft in the warmth of her mouth. With the reduced options, all he can do is try not to buck against the Prime Matron's face as she starts to suckle, distracting himself by applying his warm tongue to the soft muscle of her asshole. As he does, he feels the Matron's oral muscle working over the heavy length of his shaft, huffing a little when she suddenly pulls back, rump lifting from his snout as she does.

"Why did you," Salthanath begins, but his question is answered as the Matron tuns about and lowers herself once again. This time, though, it's those slick, gaping labia that engulf saliva-slickened cockhead, the male groaning out with pleasure as the elder blue heaves herself down with a gasp. In fact, she's greedy enough in her downward press that her cervix dimples against his cockhead before she stops, inner muscles twitching and contracting around the girthy dick that stretches her nearly twice as wide as the gilded replica mounted on her armor. Still, she takes it with hardly any difficulty, the dragoness pausing there before she shifts her stance, fore-claws pinning Salthanath's shoulders to the ground. He's realizing rather quickly that his pleasure doesn't matter at the moment - the lusty elder dragoness intends to sate herself before he gets his. Not that he doesn't enjoy the slick friction of that grasping passage as she starts to lift up, her thickly-muscled hind-legs flexing as she starts to bounce atop his shaft. He bucks, as best as he can, up against the wet heat of the Prime Matron, trying to drive himself a little deeper each time she sinks down onto his girthy member, grinning a bit as he notices that he's already causing a lewd bulge in her stomach.

Still, he's so much /larger/ than what Tarecgosa is used to, encountering quite a bit of resistance each time she settles down on him, though he can't help but hiss as he feels the older dragoness slowly battering her own cervix with each of those rough bounces atop the amethyst-scaled drake, lewd, wet squelches sounding with each pass, mingled lubricants dribbling down over Salthanath's shaft as he's taken for a ride. And that ride is certainly a rough one, the dragoness bearing down heavily each time she drops her backside to spear herself on that fat dick, the trickle of her honey flowing unabated as she does her best to take the male to the hilt. It requires quite a few repetitions of that up-and-down motion before she makes any further progress - but when she does, it's sudden and rapid, her cervix finally yawning open to accept that broad cockhead, and the amount of force she's using ensures that her labia kiss his half-swollen knot before she can stop herself, crying out as Salthanath's glans jab rudely against the rear wall of her womb.

Salthanath finds himself bathed in a heat he could never have imagined as his girth sinks into that warm, fertile egg-chamber, the male shuddering as he feels inner muscles rippling and squeezing around his shaft, squirming beneath the dominant female as she grinds down against him. There's a low growl as those netherlips press against his knot, surprising himself with the fact that her stomach is already swelling outward with the volume of his precum. Talons flex as he restrains himself, snarling up to Tarecgosa in pleasure. He finds that he enjoys having the older dragoness on top, loving the way she eagerly presses down to help his thick dick deform her sex, each bounce atop him helping to hammer her womb into a more receptive shape for his seed. Of course, those forceful thrusts only encourage Tarecgosa's motions, the dragoness shoving herself down with unrestrained greed, panting openly above the receptive drake, and each time she splays open a little farther around the swelling knot at the amethyst drake's hilt. Time and time again, he gets to enjoy that wet warmth, squirming slightly beneath the dragoness as she holds him pinned beneath her, though that doesn't stop him from curling his back to press up against her writhing body.

Over and over, those smooth-scaled bodies collide, until, finally, all the pressure involved results in that girthy knot sinking home with a lewd pop, Tarecgosa dipping down to chomp roughly on Salthanath's neck in a firm love-bite while he lets out a roar. That seated knot swells as he begins to unload, his output immediate and copious, the blue dragoness' stomach swelling as the drake floods her fertile womb with rich, virile spunk, bodies locked together as they tremble and jerk in a mutual climax. He submits to the Prime Matron fully in those moments, trapped beneath him as she uses his heavy dick as a tool for her pleasure, hissing softly up to the elder dragoness as he pumps several quarts of thick jizz into her depths. Both dragons shudder and squirm, each motion causing that swollen bulb of flesh to stir and tug within the blue dragoness' spasming walls - and there's quite the dribble of spunk running from her stretched slit and over Salthanath's peeled-back sheath and heavy nuts.

It doesn't take long for the pair to recover from the exertions, though, and soon enough - in fact, before Salthanath's knot has a chance to shrink - Tarecgosa is slowly lifting herself once again, groaning as her stretched netherlips distend with the size of that immense bulb. It's a moment or two of strain for the dragoness, before a loud, slurping pops sounds, the drake finding himself with his slick shaft bobbing in the warm air... While a copious cascade of his semen pours from the Prime Matron's gaping labia, drenching his groin and tail-base before she moves from above him, taking a new position - one that strikes him on an instinctual level as he watches the slightly-bloated looking dragoness lower her chest to the ground while flagging her tail in an open display.

"We're not done yet, Salthanath... After all, you can't expect me to do all the work," teases the elder dragoness, blue-scaled haunches swaying teasingly as she speaks, showing off the fact that his thick seed continues to drool down her hind-legs.

"Of course not, Prime Matron," is all he can say - all he has a chance to say, before he finds himself hunching over her back, the haze of his recent climax leaving him wondering just when he stood up... But words fail him as the scholarly drake's first thrust finds purchase, his immense shaft sinking into his ruler's sloppy folds with much more ease than the first time. In fact, the new position seems even better for the task, though there's somewhat less friction in this stance, growling contentedly as he enjoys the sensation of his broad shaft sinking into her welcoming heat.

Of course, the fact that he finds himself fucking the dragoness that, for much of his life, has been considered the epitome of dragon-kind - while standing in a puddle of his own semen - lends him a whole new vigor. Within a handful of thrusts, his knot is slapping against Tarecgosa's drenched pussy, fore-legs hugging the curve of her stomach as he savors the tight grip of her cervix squeezing down around his length. Compared to the effort he puts into it, their first mating was slow and languid - he realizes that, in this position, he has control of the affair, and he's not hesitant at all to put that to use.

Beneath the purple-scaled male, Tarecgosa is howling with pleasure as he pistons away, Salthanath barely aware of the motion as he bites down on his partner's nape. Each thrust jostles the dragoness' body beneath him, making her cry out as he pounds away at the greedy Matron. In fact, after their first round, he notices that his knot slides in long before he expected it to, the hungry clench of her fertile body gripping his shaft for a long moment before he pulls out again... And with the yowl Tarecgosa puts out as it passes through her strained slit goading him on, he ensures it happens at the apex of every ram into her body.

Already sensitized from his previous climax, the assault of sensation that accompanies his knot sawing through the Prime Matron's cunt leaves him tensing up in short order, his heavy balls drawing upward as he pushes in deeply enough that he can feel the rear wall of Tarecgosa's flooded womb caressing his cockhead... And that triggers his second release. He doesn't realize it at first, though the Prime Matron is familiar with that particular quirk of their species - the first load a male dragon puts out is something of a warm-up. Where he put out quarts before, he's amazed to find himself latching on to her body and trembling as he produces gallons of his gooey essence, crying out in surprise as the dragoness' stomach bloats lewdly beneath her... In fact, her straining belly-scales end up slick with the seed that drained from her cunt but a short time ago, as Salthanath floods her womb to the point it brushes the stone floor, pressure building up inside. There's a momentary release of that pressure as something gives way within - Tarecgosa's felt that sensation before, the one that signals that her ovaries have just been left swollen with that musky semen, despite the fact that his output doesn't slow.

In fact, it's several minutes later when he finally stops bucking and jerking atop her back with the muscle spasms induced by his climax - though, by that time, the pressure built up in the Prime Matron's womb has reached a point that even Salthanath's oversized knot can't keep it sealed in, a high-pressure geyser of jizz splattering over the floor as he tries to recover.

Dazed, Salthanath barely registers that Tarecgosa is speaking again a few minutes later - he shakes his head to clear his thoughts after a moment, listening more intently to her words as he trembles there, savoring his temporary dominance over this most respected of dragoness'.

"Rrrh... Salthanath, I chose correctly with you," Tarecgosa mumbles, "And I've decided that this little experiment of ours should be rather more lengthy than I initially suggested." A smirk, flashed over her shoulder. "So, you shall be the new Consort of the Matrons... And I say 'Matrons' for good reason." She reaches, fumbling unsteadily for her nearly out-of-reach armor, and comes up with a Speaking Stone, activating it before she speaks once more. "Daughters, it's time for you to return to the Communion Hall. Once our guest is recovered, you'll each be enjoying his... Company." Message delivered, she peers back over her shoulder at the dazed, amethyst-scaled drake. "They'll be here in a few moments. Until then... Well, I'm sure you have a little more energy left for me, hmm?"