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“Mercy."

Every Monster of this nonsense world was a sexual creature at their core, cursed with boundless libido and born from the tainted desires of an Apex Ability User gifted with the [Creation] powers of a God. Exceptionally rare were the sexless, and even the most frigid would quickly warm up when properly brought to a state of arousal, often finding themselves flipping to the opposite extreme after their awakening to become the most depraved sluts of all. Sex was a part of culture, a means of domination and submission, the responsibility of mastery and the surrender of slavery. If you had power, if you were a person of value, then you either owned others, or were worthy enough to be owned by someone yourself.

Dragons knew this best of all, with the patriarch of each family in a position of absolute power. Females were commodities to be bred or traded, weaker males were forced to submit as slaves, and stronger males were driven out by fathers fearing that they would be usurped. It was the right of every father to breed a clutch into his daughter, and add her to his harem until he tired of her and traded her away. His right again to force his son to submit as a plaything, with a lot of the work of running a domain also placed on their shoulders to allow their betters more time for leisure.

The Emperor of dragonkind reminisced as he reclined on his favourite stone at the heart of the Jade Palace. His daughter was a disgusting creature, and he'd neither felt any desire to claim his right to breed her, nor imagined that any other draconic patriarch would be interested in acquiring her for themselves. She was an excellent pawn, but not so valuable that he wouldn't trade her away at the first opportunity. No matter how useful she was, no matter how loyal – there was no forgiving her deformity. Selling her to the Saint to secure an Oath that he would not oppose the East Empire was a most excellent trade, as far as he could see it.

As for his son, that was a different matter. Quite soon he would be dead, and the East Wing of the Jade Palace previously overrun with his conjured constructs would at last be quiet once more. His fate was a pity. Ever since he'd fallen to his Sin, the Emperor had actually had to take some of the responsibility of running his country back over! The boy was a great loss, and not one that would be easy to replace. Of course, he also missed his morning ritual of forcing his son to down a Potion of Malleability and raise his tail for a cock as large as his leg.

He never fucked Sirrush for pleasure. It was a simple act of domination – a reminder that while the young Dragon might carry much of the responsibility of running the Empire, he remained subservient to his father. A weak little thing that would walk the halls of the Jade Palace with his father's seed running down his legs, and his own matting his robes on the rare occasions that he thought the pathetic little faggot worthy of such a reward.

As for where he did find his pleasure, for that he had a harem all of his own.

Some truly remarkable wares flowed from the distant West Kingdom, and loathe though the Emperor was to part with even a single one of his precious gemstones, the purchase of these Control Collars was well worth the cost. While his mithril armour, thick hide, and potent Evocation Magic made him next to invulnerable, he could hardly allow the last of his exposed tender flesh to endure the ministrations of one whom he did not absolutely control! He assumed the power to be akin to the [Tame] wielded by the Saint – those bearing these collars could not harm him, could not leave him, and followed his every command to the letter!

The Harem itself was quite the eclectic mix of creatures taken from across his territory, collared and pressed into service. He'd taken his time to mould them into sexual beings that suited his desires, investing himself over several years to addict them to potent aphrodisiacs and perception warping drugs. Each of them was a living sextoy configured to his pleasure, addled until they could feel nothing but lust for their Master, unable to comprehend anything outside of their role as his whores.

The Emperor was a tremendous specimen of a Dragon, a feral Western large enough to fill a room, black scaled and silver mithril armoured, coiled carefully upon the smooth stone which served as his throne that he might watch the show playing out before him and ponder his next moves. He would need a mate to breed him more sons to administer to his Empire – his progeny to serve as liaisons and spies to the other Dragon families which controlled the Islands on his behalf. A few daughters to round out his Harem would not go amiss either.

Two members of that group now fucked in front of him, and he only half paid attention to it. It was a pair of Renamon siblings that he'd taken from one of the fishing villages on the southern coast. Incest was not practiced amongst their race, and they'd initially wept and apologised to each other so many times while partaking in the taboo. Now, years of mind-bending aphrodisiacs had dulled the edge of their depravity, and they kissed passionately as brother fought to lodge his knot inside his sister.

She was pregnant again with his incestuous seed, and this would be her third set of kits. The Emperor would have them raise their children into the same depravity, and eventually they would replace their parents as part of the Harem. His drifting attention sharpened as he started to watch in earnest. This was a coupling he was quite proud of, having had the enjoyment of watching their profound distaste for the incest that he forced on them give way to a numb acceptance, and now an addiction to the pleasure of sibling breeding.

His Hoard was a great mass of gemstones, and he could spend days contemplating them, lost in their shine and absorbed in his Racial Instinct. But, he must admit that carnal pleasure was a close second to that fulfilment. How did the Saint get anything done when the power of absolute mastery was so intoxicating? If the Emperor had access to the power of [Tame] rather than the substitute of these Control Collars, then he would expand his debauchery to the whole island chain! Or at the very least, every last one of his own species!

His eyes narrowed as he watched the passion of these foxes play out. A little too gratuitous for him, “Knot her and be done. Now. Or I shall take over and fuck her deeply enough to abort what grows in that womb with my cock."

It irked him somewhat that he'd not even finished the threat before the male Renamon gasped and found his orgasm, the power of his promise undercut by the pointlessness of its delivery. His sister was kissing his neck, rolling her hips, her eyes glassy and filled with love. Perhaps it was years of drugs and conditioning, or maybe these two Slaves had found for themselves an unconventional romance all of their own? The wrap of her arms and legs around him seemed to indicate so.

The Emperor gave a slight harrumph. How dare they? The audacity of these lowly slaves for there to be anything in their lives that they might hold to be greater than him! That affection belonged only to him! His eyes narrowed. Maybe it would be entertaining to force the brother to slit his sister's throat? Ah – perhaps after this next round of kits had been delivered, he would find out. For now, he begrudgingly permitted them their afterglow and turned his attention downwards to his own pleasure.

It was by the army of Viper that the Emperor ruled the East Island, their culture, religion, and breeding, all under his control with the sole ten males of their entire race ensconced inside the Snake Pit, the most heavily fortified location in all of the Jade Palace. Nine males presently, for he had taken one for himself. Long defanged, and with that sensationally long and dexterous tongue, the prospect of training one to have no purpose in life but the oral worship of his cock had been far too tempting a prospect to resist.

His jet-black maleness was as long as a human leg, and not too dissimilar proportionally, segmented thrice and gradually tapering, covered in small bumps each the size of a copper piece, and with a knot of his own where the base met his slit. The Emperor was quite proud of it – knots were rather rare in his kin, and he considered his own to be quite majestic, the exoticism of his ridiculous shaft something that he revelled in. Sirrush was comparatively boring.

The tapered head of his cock was being gently suckled by the defanged Viper, his expression dreamy as he drew excessively thick draconic precum into his widely gaped maw. His tongue had corkscrewed around the entire length, applying pressure just behind each of the three great ridges and behind the knot just in the way that the Emperor most liked. Yes, this was the sort of devotion that he most enjoyed. He'd conditioned the snake to adore his seed, and even had an Enchantment Magic user warp their mind into a state in which he could only find his own orgasm with the cum of his Master in his throat.

The drooling pair of series cocks hanging beneath the reverent submissive signalled that untouched bitchgasm to be close, and that same sense of pride again burgeoned within the Dragon. Just like the Renamon siblings, this was his achievement, his twisting of a creature into something which existed solely for his own pleasure. It was a thought potent enough to trigger his own climax, his internal testes churning up a thick load of Dragon cum for the faggot Viper to gulp down greedily.

The slitted nostrils of the Viper flared, and the practiced whore choked of his own accord, an act in which he appeared to be drowning in the potent load of his Master. He pulled back, copious seed, thick and potent plastering his maw, spraying over his face, and dripping from his small nose. The overpowering scent of it had the well-trained faggot give it up himself over the floor beneath him, and the Emperor grinned down lecherously at a show that he never got tired of. Over time, he had managed to fool even himself in believing it to be real, and not a mere simulation of the throat-rape which he desired most to see.

There was much pleasure to be had in the observation of male submission, and he'd another side-show to preserve his arousal in the afterglow of this orgasm. A facsimile of his draconic maleness, perfectly to scale, yet reduced in size to be reasonable for the creature had been placed upon the stone facing upwards, and slowly sliding down its length was a male Lucario. He made eye contact with them, capturing their gaze and holding it as they fell to their knees around the duplicate of his cock and began to rock their hips back and forth.

Their own knotted crimson bobbed against their abdomen, throbbing as if it were like to burst at any moment, the canine creature leaning back and moaning throatily, his tone as soft and high as any female of his race. Their body was firm and muscular, with no shortage of scars, a form forged by heavy training. They had fancied themselves a Hero and spent their entire life mastering martial arts in a hope to avenge… someone. The Emperor didn't really care. He'd zoned out during their heroic speech, and after defeating them had broken their body and mind to pleasure.

Now they sang his title sweetly, rocking back and forth on that artificial cock, his mouth hung open and drooling, his eyes glassy and unseeing. The Lucario's abdomen began to bulge lewdly, and the Emperor's lip quivered as he watched them, his arousal rekindled as the moaning whore fucked himself to a shuddering orgasm. Yes. This was the fate of anyone fool enough to challenge him. The fate of anyone that caught his interest as well. He was the strongest, the Emperor of dragonkind, and all in the world existed for his pleasure.

The Saint might be the only one that could possibly understand him, he thought to himself. Of course, he must administer his own Harem in precisely the same way. Sluts and whores are to be seized, used, and discarded at a whim. Beat them and rape them into submission, ruin their minds and bodies with magic and alchemy, confine them with magic items, and have your fun. They exist only for their Master, their own hopes, dreams, and lives, are entirely meaningless. Perhaps they might share some tea and discuss it? Maybe trade a few slaves between them? Or perhaps he would just demand them of the Saint in exchange for their hospitality.

That Manticore looked feisty. He wondered what sort of face she would make if he chose to forgo a potion of malleability and rape her to death.

His cock throbbed with vigour, and he drew himself away from the Viper to drape his body over the final member of his current Harem. Female Mizutsune were so rare that they came close to myth – but the Emperor had managed to acquire one through no small amount of effort. The Monster was not sapient, and he chose to not bother with the trouble of an Awakening Ritual so that he may enjoy the depravity of mating with a beast of inferior intelligence. What did she need to understand but that her sole purpose was to be a sheathe for his cock anyway?

Her enormous tail was coiled to their side, one leg slightly raised to provide her Master with a suitable angle to sink his exotic maleness into a snatch somewhere between vulpine and draconic. He didn't pay any particular attention to the sensation of it, other than the delight of her vaginal walls clenching down tight on him as he hilted himself in a single motion, all the way to the base. His power was immense, his durability unmatched – and this feral creature could do nothing but squirm beneath him as he furiously knot-fucked the lowly bitch.

The Mizutsune was only a little smaller than he was, and matched him well. A mass of leather was set at her shoulder, and as he readied a mating bite he eyed the other side and wondered what her blood would taste like. Perhaps today was the day he would find out? He began to salivate, contemplating the ecstasy of that rending mastication. Perhaps if he exhaled flame over the wound quickly she would survive for him to do it again? The Emperor blinked. What did he care if she survived at all? He could just have his Viper hunt another for him from the mountains.

His jaws opened, his climax neared, and a voice ruined his impending pleasure.

“Greetings, father. If you would please remove yourself from your Pet. I am here to kill you."

-

Across the Jade Palace, far from this fateful skirmish, a lone Dragoness advanced unto the heart of the sacred stronghold. Moiral had never taken a life before. The Dragoness had adopted the persona of a true villain, with a practiced 'Ohohoho' cackle and theatrics lifted straight from a book. She clad herself in black armour and wielded a scythe which in truth she had no idea how to properly employ as a weapon, all for the sake of that image. She was cruel and sarcastic, filled with threats and sadism, the enforcer of the East Island that would torment her victims and have them grovel before her, thinking that they had been blessed by heaven to escape with lives she never intended to strip them of in the first place.

Those that she was directly ordered by her father to slay instead conveniently disappeared, and she allowed the rumour that she indulged cannibalistic tendencies to proliferate, the excuse of her Sin of Gluttony accounting for the absence of any corpses. Each was spirited away to the mainland, and the Emperor had never particularly shown much interest in the Trinity Theocracy beyond extracting from them tributes of Dracite under the threat of breaching their fragile peace.

She was an outcast, a traitor disguised as the most loyal pawn of the East Empire, reviled by dragonkind for her appearance, and by the people of the islands for her cruelty. It was a silent battle which she would argue was not rooted in any sort of inherent goodness in her, but a desire for vengeance against her father for the slaying of her mother. Every life she spared was a blow struck against him, and the hatred of the commonfolk was applause.

But here on the eve of her final victory, her resolve wavered. In a life that had been devoid of affection since the death of her mother, Raphael had showed her intimacy and promised her a future filled with the relationships that she so desperately wanted. She could leave the East Empire far behind, go to the Holy City, and live a simple life. Raise the hatchlings she'd always hoped for. Maybe open a bakery one day. Experience love. Find friends inside the Monster Harem. And finally feel like she was a part of the world… No. No. No. It was a pretty dream, but it was too hard to imagine. This was reality, beyond the veil of the pleasure she had shared with her Master. The Empire could not be reformed. But tonight, she could end it.

Her father would certainly kill her for this act.

Her hands shook on her scythe as she hefted it over her shoulder, considered it for a moment, and then cast it aside. It was nothing but a prop, anyway. Moiral pressed her palms to her face, “Curse you, M-Master… I was afraid before, but I had made my p-peace. Why did you have to s-shatter my resolve?" She took a slow breath, and then laughed, “Ohohoho… Punishment. That is what this is. The Gods themselves want this disgusting creature to suffer before death! That is why they show me a glimpse of such a blessed life right at the end!"

To be dramatic, to speak as if her dialogue was lifted from the pages of a trashy novel, it was the only way to tame her stutter, and the source of her confidence. Yes. She was the villainess of this story. She must be a villain to carry out the task before her. Moiral stood before an enormous set of double-doors, inscribed with jade motifs of writhing snakes and sealed shut with all of the authority that this vault demanded. It was the entrance to the Snake Pit, here where the only ten Viper males in existence languished. Behind her was nothing but a single long and dark corridor. One way in and out.

It was the culture of Viper to serve the Emperor, sharpened through their devotion into living blades, one in thought and deed. To be permitted to breed was considered to be validation, and an elevation to their nirvana. By controlling these ten males, a whole species was made into willing slaves, perfect soldiers, and it was through them that every Emperor for a thousand years had subjugated the East Island, and fed numerous wars against the mainland.

The vault of the Snake Pit was considered to be impregnable. Why even bother with guards when the fortifying magics of the door were so potent that only the nullification of Mithril could undo them? Well, that – or perhaps a Necromancy of decay empowered by enough Dracite to level the whole Jade Palace three times over. This was her objective. The genocide of a species would bring the Empire to an end forever.

Raphael's satchel swung from her shoulder, and she placed her hand into it, making contact with every one of the dozen crystal spheres she'd removed from the case within. Her other pressed to the door, and she intoned the unknowable language of the Moon God, channelled her spell, and both Dracite and gate slowly began to melt away, the spheres shrinking in size as black mist engulfed the barrier and began to eat into the potent enchantment. She'd kill the nine males here – and then from the edges of the battlefield, snipe the last of them.

“I can't let you to this, Lady Moira."

She twisted on the spot, more surprised than anything else, but despite releasing her hand from barrier and Dracite both, the spell continued to channel through her by proximity, “W-who is there!?"

And from the empty space stepped quite the eclectic trio. A Harengon ninja flanked by a Zoroark illusionist and Wolfman alpha. The fox was beaming, basking in the Pride debt of his invisibility spell, the wolf sniffed at the air, but Hideki was surveying her carefully, “Master is going to help Lord Rush fix the Empire. I must apologise, but your ambitions end here."

He'd been tracking her for a while, but needed to wait for her to enter an area of the Jade Palace entirely devoid of servants before making his move. A pity that it was right on the doorstep of her objective, “You shall come with us. Quickly, if you please. Master, Kal, and Lord Rush, have already engaged the Emperor – your true name is known, you are a liability and must withdraw to a safe distance immediately!"

“No." The Dragoness cut him off. Her chest fluttered as she took rapid breaths, adrenaline coursing through her still, the potency of her decay increasing as she poured her will into the destruction of this wall “You cannot stop me here! Not when I am so close! I can end it all! I can bring down this cursed Empire forever!"

The Wolfman growled, as quick as ever to judge, “Traitor…"

She found her confidence inside her villain persona, “Ohohoho! I don't even know who you are!"

“Yoink!" The weight of the satchel at her waist vanished, an invisible hand with an invisible blade stripping her of the burden, and the image of the smug looking Zoroark faded away. The fox had never been there to begin with, a continuation of his cloaking spell and a small illusion allowing him to get the drop on her. He laughed as the darkness abated, “Fuck, Deki – for a posh cunt you come up with some good plans!"

Hideki gave a slight nod in appreciation of the compliment, “Anticlimactic. But that is a job well done. Now, Lady Moira; we both know that you would have folded at the last. You are not a killer. Now, if you will just-“

“Give that back to me!" She pounced at the fox, but the thick arm of Alp seized her shoulder. The Wolfman growled, and despite the power of [Tame] preventing the Pets from harming each other, it remained truly intimidating. Alp didn't really understand what was going on. All that he knew was that one of Master's Pets was misbehaving, and that was more than enough to earn the ire of this loyal hound.

“It is over, Lady Moira!" The Harengon finally spoke with the force of his grander age, “I am informed enough to assume full well what you hoped to do here next, and I shall not permit it!" Hiro danced out of reach, and Alp deepened his grasp of the flailing Dragoness, “You are a Slave, Lady Moira! Our Master has decided the future of the East Island, and you shall not contest that! He has already forgiven you – you need only abandon this foolishness and return to his side!"

Moiral struggled desperately as everything began to fall apart. Her spell was foiled, the door weathered but still standing. The wolf had pinned her arm behind her back roughly and growled against her ear, and the two natives hat outplayed her completely. Her ambition to bring the Empire down had been nothing but a sideshow, her vengeance, the culmination of her entire life, a mere intermission to a story which belonged to someone else. Fate and destiny was for her Master to decide. She was meaningless. Her suffering. Her pride. All so casually undone.

Thank the gods.

She collapsed into tears, the strength leaving her completely as her disposition flipped entirely on the realisation of her own relief. Giving up was so easy, and her wavering resolve broke the moment that the Dragoness had been overpowered. There is more that she could have done – shouted and screamed, squirmed desperately, resorted to trickery, anything to regain the satchel, renew the ritual, and through this genocide of the Viper deprive the Dragons of their control of the East Island forever. But an excuse had arrived, a defeat which allowed her to surrender without damaging her draconic ego.

She could leave it all to her Master.

-

That Master now braced himself against one of the great pillars of the Jade Palace throne room as fire erupted on either side of him, the stone a meagre shield against the potent Evocation breath weapon levelled against them and requiring reinforcement from his own Magic to withstand the attack. Kali was at his side, the Manticore stood against the flames and sharing some of her own innate resistance with him as they defended against the magmatic flow. The Dragon filled the centre of the room, and by moving from cover to cover around the edges of the space, they had managed to evade the expulsions of elemental power thus far.

A name was a potent thing. Under normal circumstances, something like a fireball must travel through the air from caster to target – but if you knew the true name of your opponent, you could summon the flames directly onto their flesh. Thus, after proclaiming the Beastlord his proxy, Sirrush had immediately fled from his father, the Monarch's Harem scattered as well, and Raphael levelled his sword to 'fight for the East Island' as champion of the beloved Prince of the people. As a Beastmaster, Kali was as much his weapon as his rapier.

Their every attack thus far had been in vain, the Evocation Magic of the Manticore dissipating as soon as it came into contact with the nullifying properties of the Mithril armour, the sturdy material sufficient to turn away her bone spikes as well as she launched them from her tail. For Raphael, his rapier may as well be a toothpick for all of the good that the silvered blade would do him here. Only the maw of his foe was undefended, and he'd little chance of thrusting the weapon into a mouth from which flames seemed to issue endlessly.

Of course they did. The capacity for Magic held by a Dragon was significantly higher than a Human or a Manticore, and the Emperor was a particularly impressive spellcaster, with a pool of Sin perhaps comparable to Saint and Pet combined.

“Shit. Fuck. He's toying with us!" Kali snarled, the stone of the pillar they were taking cover behind slowly melting away under the extreme heat. To take a direct hit would be too much even for their enhanced resistances, and she spread her batlike wings to form an additional shield for her Master as he channelled healing Magic into her body to restore her stamina.

A voice, snarling, “How dare you!? Slippery and filthy! This was your design from the start!? You have made a fool of me! I shall not allow you to take my precious Hoard! The gemstones of the East Island belong to me!"

“I don't give a damn about your gemstones!" Raphael called in turn as the flames abated long enough for their exchange. He communicated with Kali with a look, from her to the next point of cover, and then delivered his provocation, “But yeah, I did play you. It wasn't hard, either! The gaps you left in the Oath you had me swear was practically asking for it! I'm fighting for Sirush's Empire!"

A roar came, the Dragon charged, and as he swept his tail through the pillar and brought it down, Raphael had already dove into the shadow of the next along with his companion. The outer archways of the Jade Palace trembled, and the Beastlord grinned. He'd played enough terrible ARPGs to know exactly how to handle this sort of arena! The Emperor may as well be standing underneath a conveniently placed chandelier! The walls around him were crumbling, the building leaning over his enormous body and swaying.

Elemental breath came again, and despite having access to the full gamut of powers, the Emperor chose fire as always. Raphael taunted again, “You could always give up and join my Monster Harem! You'd make an excellent Pet yourself! I haven't got one as big as you, yet!"

A roar of frustration, and again the flames ceased for a physical attack on their cover. But the pair of them were already gone, Raphael diving into a roll which threw him into another stone hollow, “Fuck, I knew all that time playing Elden Ring would pay off… Or is this scenario more God of War? Resident Evil?"

“Master, shut the fuck up and do something!" The Manticore snarled, “This wasn't the plan! You're supposed to fight him with Dia's Sun God Skill!"

Kali was a rather terrible actor, and he'd not informed her of his plan to try and prevent the Emperor from picking it up should they prove more perceptive than anticipated. Despite his practice, he still struggled with Dia's technique, and found himself exhausted after its use. But, the arena of the Throne Room had granted him quite the alternate strategy. The Dragon raged, “I'll kill you!" His claws grating the stone, and the application of his weight bringing it down as Raphael chose his next point of cover and sprinted for it.

Of course, the same thing would not work three times in a row, and when in the middle of the dead ground, the Emperor snapped his jaws down to devour the two of them… and found to be in his maw nothing but an illusion. From the next pillar along, Raphael cackled, taking a que from Kali and adopting her more casual dialect, “Ain't you supposed to be a superior species? Not too bright, are you, bitch?"

Two pillars remained, and the Emperor hadn't even noticed the outer wings of the Jade Palace beginning to bow inwards, the open air above narrowing to the crumble of stone. Raphael braced himself, and then took stock. If it were a game, then all five arches would need to be destroyed to bring the room down atop his foe. In reality, taking more than half was enough. The Beastlord grabbed his companion, and invoked his spell, intoning the unknowable language of the Moon God as he captured them both inside a spire of conjured steel.

The fatigue of Sloth washed over him, but it was a worthy price to pay for this defence. The Emperor roared, his wings spreading, but it was too late, the world falling apart around them, heavy stone from above, and the melted footing of their own fire breath below. The heart of the Jade Palace buried them all.

Everything was dark. The rumbling finally ceased. And a voice was in his ear, “Master…" Kali squirmed, inside the great metal coffin, an upwards spire designed to pierce the falling slate and allow them a point above the wreckage from which to exit, “Is that really fucking it? We just called him a bitch and he brought the whole place down on top of himself? How has nobody else beaten this retard?"

It would probably be for the best not to say that he could envision the Manticore falling for exactly the same strategy, “Thanks for keeping us safe, Kali. It was a brief fight, but without those wings of yours, I don't think we could have won."

She smirked in the dark, “And my counter Magic, and my tail spikes. You called him a bitch the same way that I do, too!"

He gave a slight huff and opened a small hole inside the metal casing, thankful that he could see light and that they were not entirely buried. The point of the spire had pierced the slates collapsing atop them, and allowed the two to exit onto a devastated mountaintop. The centremost point of the Jade Palace had entirely collapsed in on itself, forming a great pile of debris at its core from which the tip of a black tail protruded.

The reversal came in an instant.

Debris exploded outwards, Raphael forced to dive into cover without even the time to conjure a shield for himself, Kali dragged in his wake. The Emperor rose from the ruin of his palace, his body bloody and battered, but still intact. His crimson eyes filled with malice as they locked on to their foes. The small plinth under which they cowered from the cascade of stone would not be sufficient to shield them from his breath, and he summoned his flame.

Kali spread her wings and stepped in front of it, turning her back to the Dragon as magmatic heat thundered against the aegis of her body. Her Master thrust out his arm, grasping her by the mane, desperately intoning a healing spell and pouring vitality into her body. She screamed. She couldn't help it. Despite her heat resistance, the Evocation Magic of the Emperor was just too powerful, and it stripped her flesh from her back as rapidly as Raphael regenerated it. When the breath finally ceased, she grinned, “Shit…" and fell to the floor, alive but entirely spent.

The Emperor shook with rage, “You think I care for this Palace? You think I care for this Nation? There is nothing but my Hoard, and you will not take it!" His singular focus clouded his mind to the extent that he could comprehend nothing else. There was no other conceivable motive for Raphael to have but the seizure of their precious gemstones, that was the fog of his Racial Instinct, “I'll devour you! And then my traitorous son!"

Raphael cast aside his useless sword, readying his fists as he surveyed the enormous creature before him. His armour was ruined by the heat, the fur charred and the metal scuffed. Kali lay unconscious at his feet. But he remained confident in his final ace. The Dragon was laughing at him, and suddenly he didn't seem to be so evil after all. Just a product of his own twisted instincts, desires gone awry, and a culture to facilitate all of that founded by the [Creation] User so long ago.

He'd the strength of a Deathclaw, the regeneration of a Wolfman, the agility of a Harengon, and a great many other inherited traits besides, all gifted to him by the devotion of his Pets through the power of [Tame]. And finally, it was time to invoke Dia's Sun God Skill.

Boost.

If the situation were not so serious, he probably would have yelled the name of this stolen move, as the ground beneath him cratered and a corkscrew uppercut to the Dragon monarch's jaw sent the enormous creature staggering. Raphael was sent flying upwards by this mighty leap, the expression of force propelling him several meters into the air. Boost was a skill which empowered a trait chosen by the user at the cost of stamina, and Raphael already had quite the array of overpowered traits to choose from. To deal with the Emperor, the strength of a Deathclaw was enhanced fourfold.

Falling from above, he controlled his descent like a Gryphon in flight, and the Saint brought down his elbow onto their stunned face with more Deathclaw power, impacting scale and armour but still imparting a tremendous force. Reinforcement of the body to withstand the rigours of enhancement was built into Boost, and it was all that prevented his own arm from shattering as he slammed the Emperor into the ground. Claws swiped, and Felyne reflexes empowered by Boost brought the world into slow motion, Harengon agility allowing him to simply step back and have them whistle before him.

His heart was beating tremendously hard, the sound of rushing blood in his ears, his lungs screaming. The stamina cost was profound, and it sapped at his lifeforce, the unreasonable power he commanded maintained only by the pool of strength he shared with the Cerberus Spirit halfway down the mountain. “Fall!" Jaws opened to seize at him, and he battered them aside, a backhand throwing the great head upwards and exposing the jaw.

Raphael roared, braced himself, and put all of his remaining strength and stamina into this last strike. The Dragon was dazed but undefeated. He could feel eyes upon him. The injured Kali, Alp rushing to help him, Hiro cowering on his knees, Hideki with an arrow nocked, and the royal siblings looking on in awe. This time, he said the words as he prepared the attack, unable to resist.

“Shoryuken!"

A second corkscrew uppercut to send a Dragon the size of a small building staggering, swaying, and then… to the floor. The Emperor's eyes rolled back in his head, and consciousness left the tyrant. Raphael wasted no time, grasping the metal plate at their chest and pulling. The Mithril Armour was a Magic Item and would shape itself to whoever owned it, and as the Human dragged it away, the segmented equipment peeled off as one and formed a suit of full plate suitable for a man. With it too came a vast hoard of gemstones as the lattice was destroyed, the wealth scattered in a pile around the defeated Dragon.

Their defences removed and the Emperor downed, the fight was over. Restorative magic washed over him, a Dracite orb held aloft by an approaching Moiral sufficient to fully heal both himself and Kali, the Manticore leaning back against the stone as if nothing had happened. Alp was beaming with pride, Hiro appeared starstruck, and Raphael finally exhaled his relief. They cut it a little fine. But a win was a win.

Raphael opened his mouth to make a joke, his head filled with references which none of his companions would have understood, but he felt no less compelled to utter. Though nothing came from his throat but a gasping wheeze. The myriad Sin of his many spells had accumulated, and while Sirrush too looked unsteady on his feet from the fatigue of Sloth, Raphael had mixed his own with the backlash of Boost. His stamina was entirely depleted, the world span, became hazy, and then pitch black.

A great many things happened while Raphael was unconscious, and it was only much later that he would hear of them. The Emperor was bound and placed into an alchemically induced slumber, sealed away – for the one with the right to decide his ultimate fate was the Saint which had defeated him. The Monarch's Harem were confined, more spoils of war for the consideration of Raphael, they were placed alongside the many gemstones and the Mithril Armour. Badge of office it may be for the East Empire, Sirrush refused to don the plate for it would nullify the effects of [Tame] upon him.

The Prince turned Emperor had displayed his father's seal to the army of Viper rushing to retake the Jade Palace in the wake of the central collapse of the building, and his supremacy over them was met with pragmatic acceptance. To them, one Emperor was as good as another, after all. Raphael's Pets would be brought up from the waystation halfway up the mountainside, and all present had adopted duties of guardianship or convalescence.

As for the victorious Beastlord himself, he was stirred from his slumber by the touch of scaled flesh, recovered from his trials to find himself in an elaborate bedchamber. The mattress was enormous, fit for a creature the size of the Emperor and more as well, and Raphael indulged himself by relaxing against a truly vast pillow. His mind kicked into working, and he suspected the hand of Sirrush's Conjuration Magic to create such a thing in place of the stone such large Dragons would normally make beds of.

He was pinned between Sirrush and Moiral, the Dragon siblings moving with the intent of those that had already come to some sort of arrangement between themselves. It killed every question that he might have asked. If there were anything pressing, anything wrong, or anything to tend to but the joy of this triumph, then the two of them would not be engaging him this way from the start. That they now coiled their naked bodies about his filled him first with relief, and then with arousal.

The air was filled with scent of draconic need, the soft scales of Moiral pressed against an arm she had drawn between her breasts while his other was squeezed in the harder armoured grasp of Sirrush, “Welcome back, M-Master…" The Dragoness mumbled it into his ear, “I'm… sorry…"

Raphael shook his head slightly, “I hadn't earned your trust yet. I should be the one apologising for assuming too much." Her body twitched against him, holding tighter, “I'm sorry, Moiral." He wore a kind smile, “I'll win your faith. Every promise I made, I'll fulfil. [Tame] owns your body and mind. I want your Heart as well."

She closed her eyes and pressed her face into his shoulder, and Sirrush now spoke with a dry tone, “Naturally, I have the utmost confidence in our covenant." The Dragon surveyed his sister cooly, “I shall take this East Empire for my own, and in turn you shall have me as your Pet… An…" He swallowed, “Obedient whore of your Monster Harem. I shall serve your pleasure." He let the thought linger for a moment, “I believe that other promises were made as well…"

The grasp of the male Dragon upon his other arm tightened, and Raphael toyed with him, sensing their desire, “Oh? Will you remind us?"

Sirrush squirmed slightly, glancing to Moiral who still hid her face, and finding some resolve, “That… I would be taught pleasure. Our covenant has yet to be consummated in the real world after all!" Raphael raised a brow, a voiceless demand for them to carry on, “And… You would teach me how to suck your cock in a way that pleases you. You would make me an obedient little faggot. Treat me like an Empress… and you would have the rest of the males in the Monster Harem have their way with me…"

“What else?"

Now his gaze squarely levelled upon Moiral. The Dragoness was a little chubby, and that alone was deformity enough for any of her kin to feel nothing but disgust when looking upon her. But, a fire had been lit inside Sirrush, and inside the dream fantasies that his Master had forced upon him, he had grown a strange desire for depravities of all varieties. She now felt like a very minor one indeed. Of course, Raphael would force him to admit as such, “You would have me mate with my sister to entertain you. You would have me clean your essence from her vent when you are finished with her. And… many other things…"

The Dragoness remained quiet against his shoulder, and Raphael continued to torment the male, “Would you like to do these things? Do you think her attractive despite the aesthetics of your race? [Truth]." He added a command knowing the answer already, for his conditioning had been very thorough.

“…Yes."

“You hear that, Moiral? Another Dragon finds you attractive. It's not just me." She quivered against the arm she'd wrapped her body around, “I visited a great many depravities onto your brother inside the dream world, but I didn't do anything to his mind. I just showed him pleasure after pleasure as he begged for more of them. This desire, this taste, it's genuine. Does that make you happy?"

She nodded against his arm, and Raphael took initiative, “Good. He's eager. And I know you are as well. Tonight, I'm going to have my fill of both of you. Trust? Covenant? I will fuck you until those are engraved upon your Souls!" Their weight was insufficient to keep him pinned, and Raphael had only the smallest movement to make to find the fingers of one hand pressed into Dragoness slick, and those of the other twisted around the segmented ridges of erect Dragon cock, “You're my submissive Pets. My owned faggot cumdump of a Dragon, and servile breeding Dragoness!"

Unprompted, Sirrush sang, “I'm your slut, Master! I want you to run my life and use me! I need to walk around every day with your essence inside me so I know who I belong to! When I'm not running the Empire, I hope that you make me cum myself stupid! My faggot boy-cunt is your property! Please teach me how to suck your cock! I'll do anything you say!"

Moiral finally found her voice, bereft of her villainess persona, she spoke with her stutter, “P-Please, Master… I… w-want to prove that I'm a good b-breeding slave… I-I want to mate with my b-brother to entertain y-you. I w-want you to teach me how to p-please you." She looked to the Dragon and took her que, “I'll be your favourite s-slut!" Moiral found some resolve, “I… I want you to l-like me the best of all…"

His arms pulled free of them, and with unreasonable strength Raphael took the antler horn of an Eastern Dragoness in one hand, and the curved horn of a Western Dragon in the other, dragging the two siblings muzzled to his crotch to display to them the cock to which they were now dedicated. He grinned down to the azure and jade, “Lick. Take your time. Learn it well, but mind the teeth."

A pair of serpentine tongues tentatively emerged from sharply fanged maws, drawing the length of his pale flesh, “This is the cock that's going to impregnate you, Moiral. Because of [Tame], I'm the only one that can knock you up, no matter how many loads I have your brother fuck into you. His cum is good for nothing but slicking the way for a real male." Sirrush's breath caught to the taunt, the mildest degradation triggering the memories of so many depraved dreams, “That's the cock that owns you, Sirrush. I'm going to fuck you to quivering bitchgasms with it, and shape your insides to match me."

The pleasure was muted, but the power of this position was intoxicating as precum blossomed from the tip of his maleness, Raphael throwing himself into the sensation of superiority, “Sirrush… I'm going to tame you to be the sort of submissive faggot that will cling to me with your whole body and whisper how much you love me into my ear. I'll fuck the masculinity out of you, and have you drain every ounce of your essence onto the floor, your chest, into your own mouth, and inside a cunt that you can't possibly knock up!"

He dragged their curved horn closer, positioning him over the tip of his cock, “Shield your teeth with your lips and your tongue. Suckle the head." Raphael snarled, “I'm going to compete with your precious Hoard, Sirrush. That's what I want to do. I'm going to master you with pleasure and depravity until I'm the grandest thought inside your head. I'll seduce you into surrendering everything to me!"

Moiral was drawn against his orbs, her tongue forced against him, “Be gentle, those are delicate…" His attention returned to the Dragoness, “You're my breeding slave, Moiral – I'm going to have you bear clutch after clutch for me. I've access to Enchantment Magic that turns the pain of birthing into the most sublime pleasure. I want to watch you cum on your own eggs as you pass them. I'll have you sit in my lap with my cock under your tail so I can feel them pushed out of your cunt."

Raphael moaned, despite the amateurish techniques of the draconic siblings enthusiastically taking their first attempt at administering oral sex, “You said you want to be loved? I'll make you mine completely. I want to seduce you, I want to romance you, I want to make you melt. Your brother needs to be fucked into submission, that's how male Dragons work – but you're not like that, are you?" He took a slow breath, “I own you, Moiral. I will bury you in pleasure and affection until you surrender to that."

His orgasm was inevitable, his maleness throbbing, and he used the leverage of their horns to force the siblings back, “[Open] your mouths…" The demand came, and glassy eyed Dragons obeyed as the cock before them twitched and delivered its potent load. Thick and vulgar ropes of Human seed painted Sirrush's muzzle, more upon his face than his tongue, before the slightest twist of his midriff had the rest of his load mostly find itself in the much more widely spread maw of Moiral.

“[Kiss] and share my cum." While it would have been quite unreasonable for a Human to kiss a draconic maw, two of them together matched rather well when side on, and what was awkward to begin with quickly became passionate as blue and green tongues pushed his seed back and forth. There was indeed a sight to enjoy, “Clean your brother's face, then both of you [Swallow]." Sirrush had to close his eyes, and his sister lived up to her Gluttony Sin as she draped her tongue over his features. The two of them drank down Raphael's essence, and showed their empty mouths unprompted as a display of their diligence.

“Moiral. You're up first. I want Sirrush to see how a dominant male breeds a Dragoness before I make him sing like a faggot that wishes he was one himself." He pushed her onto her back, and immediately she spread her legs and flicked her tail away, thrusting her hips upwards to show off her slit, “Good girl. You like this position, don't you?"

It was quite vanilla, but suited her well, a presenting missionary which left her on her back with her body sank into the mattress and her tail trailing downwards. Moiral liked to be face to face with her Master while he mated her, she liked to watch him, to see a desire in his eyes that quashed the worthless feeling inside her chest. He'd watch her body rock, her breasts heave back and forth, and rather than wear a look of disgust, Raphael seemed all the more overcome with desire. That is what she had learned the last time that they mated, and she hoped for it every time after.

His fingers spread her dripping cunt, “I-I do, Master. I…" Her breathing was unsteady already, “I like that I can wrap m-my legs around you and h-hold you inside me… and m-my arms, too…" Sirrush was watching her carefully, and a new feeling blossomed in her, a desire to not lose to him, “I-I want you to make me p-pregnant. I-I want to make you into a D-Dragon patriarch!"

Raphael pushed forward, his cock sinking deep into that syrupy Dragoness cunt, and she immediately clenched hard on his maleness. He pressed through that uniquely loose draconic cervix and straight into a womb, the head of his cock escaping the pressure of her grasping cunt. The timid Moiral moaned like the most lascivious whore of a cheap brothel, “I'll birth you lots of slaves! D-daughters with d-dripping cunts that dream of the d-day that their father will breed them! S-sons that are the same s-sort of submissive f-faggot as my b-brother!"

She scrunched up her face, doing her best to master her own fantasies as the draconic proclivity for incest reared its head, “P-please train me into a good w-whore! I-I want to be the sort of s-slut that you like best, M-Master!" She grabbed his wrists, dragging his hands onto her overlarge breasts and moaning as Raphael immediately began to toy with her scaled nipples, “T-teach me, so I can train all of your f-future sluts to be your t-toys!"

The Human atop her stifled a snarl as he increased his pace, relying on the strong application of force to rock her back and forth against his cock despite the lack of leverage he had from this position. If that was the way of Dragons, then so be it. The World God had told him before that every one of his offspring would be genetically perfect, the race of the mother, and with only a few traits inherited from him. What harm was there in indulging Moiral if this was her desire?

The idea settled in his mind. He'd have an expanded harem of draconic offspring, and he would master them all. If Dragons were a species on the brink of extinction, then his position of power alongside the new Emperor, and the ability of [Tame] to purify these corrupted genetics of generations of inbreeding would give him ample opportunity to fuck this race back to life. If he was to take Moiral and Sirrush, then it was practically his responsibility to do this much!

It cost a Dragoness stamina to seize her cunt around a male, and it was an effort rewarded by a thick load of essence planted deep inside her womb. His seed triggered her own climax, as it always would – the cum of the man that owned her the most vital aphrodisiac. She roared out her pleasure, and as Raphael hilted, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pressing his face into her chest and shuddering violently.

She was certain that he'd impregnated her. Inside her womb would grow the egg of a daughter that one day she would hold spread the legs of so that Raphael could teach her the same pleasure of breeding sex. Or perhaps a son that she'd hold to her chest and whisper sweet words to, while their Master fucked everything that made him a man out of a submissive cock in bitchgasm after bitchgasm.

It took quite some effort for Raphael to extract himself, and when he did, the Dragoness flopped out her limbs, her cunt sealing around the load that he'd pumped inside her to allow nothing to escape. He left her there to bask in the afterglow, and returned to a seated posture against the large pillow to survey a Sirrush that didn't appear to have breathed for the entire duration of their rut. He might not have blinked either. His segmented cock draped beneath him as he crawled forward, the head leaking a strand of precum which connected him to the mattress, his essence as unreasonably thick as his sister's femcum.

That thick femcum would come in quite useful now, as Raphael pointed a foot of girthy Human cock upwards, “Come into my [Lap], Sirrush. [Wrap] your arms and legs around me just like your sister. [Sink] down onto the cock that owns you." The jade Dragon was quick to comply, their slightly larger body flowing into the lap of their Master, a quick scuffle of scales against skin positioning his legs around Raphael, one hand guiding that magnificent cock to his undertail while the other seized at their shoulder.

He dropped in one movement, the action slickened by ample training with his father, and the excessively syrupy and thick lubricant of Dragoness femcum. Sirrush wailed in a tone not dissimilar to his sister as he immediately came, an exotic cock which had been on the brink of orgasm for so long finally erupting between the two males. He leaned back, making sure that the entirety of his orgasm made a mess of only his own chest, but a Raphael that didn't care at all for the seed of his submissive upon him pulled Sirrush close.

His voice was soft, “There, there… that's a good little faggot. That's exactly the sort of bitchgasm that a submissive whore like you is going to be trained to like most…" The press of their bodies continued to stimulate an erect draconic cock, while his Master filled the undertail that he owned perfectly, a comfortable fullness which required no potion or force. The Dragon moaned, and found that his tail was raised over his back, despite the pointlessness of it in this position, and his legs had gone weak. He was made for this cock. His whole life had led to this moment.

“My boy-cunt fits you perfectly, Master!" His mind raced, and the dichotomy of his life blurred inside of his mind, the regal and poised Emperor he hoped to be, and the submissive slut that brought him such pleasure and fulfilment, “I want to be your Empress, Master! I want to rule, but I want to be your faggot cumdump! You must marry me! You must be wed to us both! Make us your whores! Let the whole East Empire know who we belong to!"

He squirmed in whorish delight, “I know it! My instincts know it! I met the person that makes my tail raise and my knees go weak! My dominant male! There's nobody else for me, I want to be your slut forever! I-I want to-“ Sirrush squeezed his Master with his whole body, “I want to be your submissive male, I want to be your lover, please, I need it – I need you to love me, I need you to accept me!"

Dragon instincts for submission must be potent indeed to trigger such a confession so quickly – but between the evolution of [Tame], the abundance of Master and Slave relationships in this nonsense world, and just the nature of Monsters in general – Raphael was no longer surprised by such revelations. He ground his hips upwards to make his Empress sing, and growled into Sirrush's ear, “I'll take that Oath. I like my faggots best when they're lovestruck gays that go misty-eyed at the sight of me…"

The insides of his Pet felt divine, and the gentle rocking of their hips continued, drawing a second orgasm from the submissive Dragon, and then a third. This was a gentle foreplay, for such grand depravities were promised in the future, every one of them a further corruption for a vanilla Dragon which had been practically sexless only a day ago. Sirrush had cast himself into the abyss of pleasure, and his Master was the commander of his every desire. Yes, he was owned completely, addicted to everything that Raphael placed before him. Commanded by his instincts to submit as a lovestruck whore.

Raphael growled, holding the Dragon close and finally pumping a thick dose of potent seed deep inside of his Pet. It seemed to be a draconic trait in general that this claiming by their chosen mate would trigger an immediate and overwhelming climax of their own, Sirrush reaching a true peak and wailing in that feminine howl as his exotic cock divulged more thick Dragon cum between their pressed together abdominals.

The Beastlord exhaled forcibly to steady his breathing, and lifted Sirrush from his cock, holding his tail up to show off a lightly gaped hole oozing thick white, the male lacking the ability of a Dragoness to clench and seal everything inside. Raphael spoke, “I like a grateful whore." It was a simple statement, “You Dragons cum hardest when I put my seed in you. Submissive Pets like you two were made for this sort of pleasure…"

He disentangled himself from Sirrush, the lesser male whimpering pathetically as one of his horns was seized and his muzzle dragged into the crotch of his sister, “[Lick]." His tongue extended immediately, tracing the line of that cinched together slit of scales, and the next order was for Moiral, “Use your fingers to [Spread] your cunt. Take his other [Horn]. And [Tell] your brother what to do to make you wet his face with your orgasm."

Her eyes were wide, the daze of her afterglow long passed and a new arousal built as she'd watched her Master make a whore of her brother. Her grip on his horn was a willing one, and she guided his muzzle close, her fingers spreading that slit wide and her body relaxing. Displayed now was softer blue flesh, her walls connected with thick strands of syrupy Dragoness femslick and the pearlescence of her Master.

“L-lick around the entrance… towards the b-bottom…" She quivered as he did so, and Sirrush drew every ounce of seed into his mouth to swallow as he worked, indulging his own desires freely, “Y-your nose… T-the air feels g-good when you breathe out…" Moiral scrunched up her face, and pulled him closer, until draconic lips pressed around her overflowing cunt, “D-deeper n-now…"

Her toeclaws clenched and unclenched, “I-I like your face scales against my s-slit, b-brother…" She moaned softly, “Y-you looked so c-cute when Master made you into h-his whore… I've never s-seen you like that b-before…" The timid Moiral behind the villainess persona was new to him too, the siblings only now meeting each of their true selves in this most carnal encounter, “M-move your tongue m-more – t-there!"

He'd found something, and she was clenching around him, demanding effort as she used her inner muscles to claim her own pleasure. His oral was even more amateur when administered to a female than theirs had been for Raphael, but the heat and passion of the moment was more than enough to invoke pleasure, “Don't hold back." Her Master spoke into her ear, and Moiral steeled herself… and dragged his horn forward, the strength of Raphael assisting her.

Sirrush's muzzle entered his sister's gaped cunt as she loosened her muscles, the Dragoness wailing as his tongue now draped over that loose and yielding cervix and struck forth into her cum-filled womb. Her legs crossed around the back of his neck, and as pleasure overtook her and Raphael pulled back, she grabbed both of his horns and began to violently fuck his face. The scent of male submission found Raphael's nostrils, and he looked down to find that the Dragon had already delivered another orgasm onto the mattress beneath him from an untouched cock as he drowned inside his sister's gooey cunt.

“[Don't] stop." The command from her Master came, and despite reaching a small climax of her own, Moiral continued to force her brother into her gaped snatch. There was nothing for her but pleasure, no need to clench her internal muscles, and while it could not compete with the fulfilment of her Master's perfect cock, the stretch of this muzzle and flickering tongue of her faggot brother was rapturous.

Only able to breathe through the sides of his maw, his whole body jolted as Sirrush felt his Master move behind him, his legs again weakened, his chest thrust all the lower, his tail flagged high, and his faggot boy-cunt winking invitingly. He moaned more sweetly than the Dragoness he was being forced into as the cock that owned him was sheathed, delivering his thrum of appreciation straight into the seeded womb of his sister.

It was a promise fulfilled, and one of many. Raphael seized his hips and fucked him hard, the submissive male finding that he was indeed capable of cumming over and over again. Every time his faggot seed erupted from his cock uselessly onto the mattress, it was like everything that could have ever made him a man was being fucked out of him. He was a submissive cocksleeve, and all he needed to do was raise his tail for his Master, and lick their cum out of his sister's gaping cunt.

He found himself extracted for a moment and flipped onto his back, placed into that same intimate missionary pose, to look down and see his Master force his knees to his chest and realign that wonderful cock under his tail before everything went dark again. Moiral had lowered herself onto his face, riding his muzzle and moaning whorishly, making a show of the bouncing breasts that she knew that Raphael so enjoyed. Her hands had found his segmented cock, and while the ridged nature of it made masturbation impossible, she still squeezed him tightly, and after another orgasm, her maw descended to engulf it.

The world twisted again, after two more loads had been suckled down by a Dragoness that had learned how to suck cock a lot more quickly and effectively than he could, “On your [Back] again, Moiral. [Spread] your legs. I'm going to have Sirrush fuck you now…"

Her heart leapt in a soaring desire. No Dragon had ever found her attractive, and now her Master had trained and delivered one for her. Her femcum had soaked his face, his eyes misty and half-focused as Raphael positioned him over her. A segmented cock half the size of Raphael's slipped into her cunt with scarcely any resistance at all, but for Moiral it was tremendously fulfilling, a final victory as her brother immediately came into the first cunt that he had ever touched.

Her own orgasm failed to trigger at the touch of his seed, and she smiled in a deep satisfaction to that. It was proof to her that she belonged only to one male, and the faggot squirming around on top of her was every inch the same sort of owned slut that she was. Yes. They were the same. Tears appeared at the corners of her eyes, as for the very first time, Moiral felt the equal of another one of her kin.

But this was no time to melt into such sentiment. She pulled her brother's muzzle into one of her breasts, “S-suckle me, p-please…" Despite the male being significantly stronger, he yielded to her as easily as he did for his Master, capturing a nipple between his jaws and applying some pressure, learning as she whispered guidance into his ear. She clenched her inner muscles around a cock that had no hope of reaching her womb, and found that despite the natural stimulation of such features against a cunt that was designed for it, the satisfaction of her Master plundering her utmost depths was the greater.

Sirrush reached another climax, and several strokes later, his sister finally joined him, the ripple of her cunt forcing his seed and her own femcum back over his crotch. Raphael grinned from beside them, “Good girl…" That faggot seed wouldn't do anything even if it was planted in her womb due to the effects of [Tame], but there was a great joy in watching one of his females reject the seed of another male – even if this was a coupling that he commanded.

The siblings embraced sweetly, the intimate Dragons wrapping themselves about one another, a mess of arms and legs and the thrust of sex. Sirrush was devoid of technique, but a voice in his ear promised to teach him. And Raphael rolled his shoulders, flipping the two of them over so that he could claim Moiral's undertail with his femcum slicked cock, and take from her this final virginity. That certainly made her scream. It made her cum, too. Violently, and with enough thrashing, whorish panting, and lewd whining that it appeared that Khut might have a competitor as a female that delighted in anal.

Hours passed. He had the siblings side by side and presenting for him, switching back and forth between the two to sate his desires. He took his time teaching them individually how best to such his cock. He had Sirrush fuck his sister in every way he had the stamina for, and Moiral take cock into her clenched cunt until her stamina failed and she no longer had the power to grip his superior cock. From then on, he fucked her beneath the tail alongside her brother, a pair of whores equal in pleasure.

Moiral lost consciousness first, and Raphael held her sibling aloft in a full nelson, forcing Sirrush to look down upon her sleeping form as his own final orgasms were fucked out of him to paint her already cum-drenched body. The Saint was incensed as the Dragon finally collapsed as well, and he took them both again, forcibly enough to bring them to wakefulness with the force of their climaxes. A whore and a slut, a faggot and a breeder, these Dragons belonged to him, and he indulged himself until their minds shattered into white-hot pleasure.

More. He needed more. And fate would answer his desire.

Into the elaborate chamber came what remained of the Monster Harem, the serpentine body of the Viper Raine, the three amused heads of the Cerberus Dia, the Zoroark Hiroyuki doing his best not to look jealous of the ruined male, the Harengon Hideki looking satisfied at the outcome before him. And the trio from the mainland as well, a fiercely jealous Wolfman Alp, the very horny Manticore Kali, Felyne Bravura with a coil of rope over his shoulder.

And then, more – Monsters that he did not know beckoned forth by a smiling Hideki.

A pair of Renamon, a Lucario, a rare male Viper, and equally precious female Mizutsune.

Past them was more, though he had no idea how they had come to be here. The hulking frame of the Deathclaw Karambit, the proud Gryphon Talion. And finally, unveiled by the wings of his mount as if a majestic prize indeed, Khut was revealed to him. A very pregnant Skaven.

Her smile was like the sun.

~ SevenWingedDragon ~

Note: Fuck, I'm on the hook for a hell of an epilogue orgy now. I only have one question for all of you: Is the former Emperor a part of it? The evil Dragon monarch is ending this series either dead, exiled to the far north, or in the Monster Harem. His fate is yours to decide - so please comment below with what you want to happen to our Arc Two baddie!

Special thanks to User Drakoman for their kind words - I hope you like the Prince/Princess together at last! User NoNoNope for the valuable insights - I want to explore more scholarly Sirrush and Moiral's lack of confidence in herself in their Shorts for sure, with Dia needing some love as well. And User Etnom1 for the nudge towards resources - please message me with that homework!

I'm very much grateful for every fave, vote, comment, watch, subscription, and every last view as well. I had some trouble with this entry, as I was really obsessing over details to the point that writing it was a slog. So, I deleted everything, started over, and found it to be a lot more fun to just blast the whole thing from the hip in two sittings. I think that way of doing things is probably for the best for me when it comes to these things - there is a formula to follow, and plenty of lewd stuff to enjoy rather than it being too serious. I want this to have a relaxing light novel sort of vibe, not be the dense tome of a novel, and forgot that for a moment.

All that remains now for Arc Two is the Epilogue, and following that... I'm in two minds about diving straight into Arc Three (As User OddReptile has given me enough material on their request that the first entry should be a breeze), or taking a little break to work on another project. In which regard - as well as the fate of the former Emperor, lemme know your favourite Pokemon in the comments! I'd rather use yours than pick one myself, except for maybe the first entry of that series at least...

Anyway, thanks again for reading! Sorry this one took a little longer than the others.

Have a most excellent day.