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The Harvest Ball

III â€" Surprises

The Harvest Ball by Sophie Bell is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. It contains scenes of a sexual nature not intended for readers under the age of consent. Feel free to e-mail me or comment below!!

This is part of a story series, but I must warn you that there are no real 'chapters' to this series. Instead, I am simply writing with the Carthani world as a central theme.

Author's Note: This story was written to celebrate dressing up and getting free candy. So have fun reading it and Happy (early) Halloween!!

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Slowly, slowly, Ravin clawed his way through the fog of sleep, dragging himself through layers of darkness until, finally, his eyes snapped open. "Auugh." He muttered, rubbing his face with one paw. His mouth tasted dreadful, and he had a splitting headache. Still blinking sleep from his eyes, the young tiger peered around, trying to gain his bearings. It took him only a few moments to realize that he was in some sort of antechamber, bare of anything save for the rug beneath his fur and a tall, narrow candle-stand in one corner. Even the walls were empty, which was rare enough to make him wonder how where he was.

His memory, usually so sharp, was foggy regarding the previous night â€" if indeed the night hand ended. Staring at his own paw, dimly lit by the single source of light, he thought it must be morning; otherwise he would have still retained the form of a dragon.

A dragon. He thought, and then, stumbling on his own thoughts: The Emperor! He stared at nothing for a long moment, his mind reeling with the fact that he had mated with the Emperor himself last night â€" the Emperor! Though, admittedly, it had been the Emperor who had mated with him.

Slowly, painfully, Ravin rose to his feet, shuffling across the antechamber and towards the door. He would have to get home before too long, he knew. Not that his parents would really worry about him â€" Ravin was known for his excursions, and had disappeared for days at a time in the past. No, it was simply that he had meetings to attend to, and he had been raised to always adhere to business before pleasure â€" well, for the most part.

Groggily, he gripped the smooth bar across the door and tugged, expecting it to open. When it didn't, he blinked, growled, and tugged harder. It took another few frustrated jerks to the handle before he realized that he was locked in. Snarling with fury â€" who would dare lock him into a room? â€" he wiped his paws on his pants, and discovered fur instead. Shocked, he looked down, discovering that he was completely nude.

"What the fuck?" He snarled, absently rubbing his aching head. All he could really remember was that delicious little wolf and the episode with the Emperor. Beyond that, nothing but muddled grey half-memories that made no sense at all and only hurt his head even more when he thought about it.

Ravin snarled, paced, and generally spent the next twenty minutes realizing that he was trapped, naked, inside a completely random chamber with no idea how or when he had got there. After that, boredom set in, and with a head still aching from last night's wine, Ravin settled himself against the wall facing the door, and slipped into a light, wary sleep.

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Ravin woke with a start when the door banged open, leaping to his feet before a wave of nausea swept through him, his head pounding mercilessly. Grimacing in pain, he staggered, paws gripping his skull. Belatedly, he realized that he wore no mask â€" whoever was looking could see who he was now. The nudity didn't really matter so much, Ravin was relatively careless when it came to that, but it unnerved him to realize that he had no mask to wear. He had expected to be home before the effects of the spell wore off, not trapped in this room.

Blinking, he squinted from between his fingers, and was shocked to see the Emperor standing before him, gloriously powerful and beautiful. Without thinking, he dropped to his knees, biting back a groan of pain as they bruised on the hard floor. "Your Highness." Ravin whispered, and pressed his forehead to the floor, offering the standard obeisance. He heard a soft rumble that could have been taken for amusement from above him, and wondered resentfully if he was being laughed at.

"Ah, darling, how are you feeling?" Poitrin asked, staring down at the tiger prostrated before him. A wonderful sight, if he did say so himself. "Get up, get up, you silly boy. I have no time for propriety." At the dragon's impatient wave, Ravin rose as far as his knees, and no further. It was nearly blasphemous to stand in the presence of the Emperor â€" at least when he was addressing you directly.

Delicate golden claws wrapped around his forearm, and Ravin was pulled to his feet, wobbling slightly at a wave of lightheadedness. He dropped his gaze, feeling a plethora of emotions flooding past his headache: resentment, awe, anger, and, not surprisingly, desire. "I am well, your Highness." He said, rather belatedly, and studied the intricate tilework beneath his paws.

"Good, good!" The Emperor said, and Ravin almost looked up at the tone â€" the dragon seemed cheerful, which was not something one usually associated with the Emperor. "Look at me, Ravin." The cheerfulness had vanished, replaced by the type of command that Ravin, nobility himself, could only dream about. His chin lifted, almost automatic in response to the royal tone. He said nothing, only stared at the cold black gaze and tried to will his memories of last night's interlude out of his mind.

"The night is still young, my darling, and though your illusion has faded in light of our â€" activities â€" I would still like to enjoy my party." What did he mean, the night was still young? Ravin's confusion must have shown on his face, for the dragon chuckled. "Darling, you were only unconscious for an hour. I must say, you were very entertaining, but you certainly don't have the stamina of a dragon." Ravin stared, too shocked to be insulted, and cleared his throat.

"Your Highness, it was my honor to have ... entertained you." He said, trying not to sound as strangled as he felt, and flushed when the dragon laughed. His flush deepened â€" through from anger or something else, Ravin had no clue â€" when Poitrin casually reached down and caressed his groin with one clawed hand. Disturbingly, Ravin felt his abdomen tense, and suffered the flare of arousal that whispered through his blood.

"I daresay you'll continue to entertain me, my pet." The Emperor crooned, still caressing Ravin's half-erect member gently, while his free paw jerked out, claws snapping imperiously. Ravin, half-aroused and feeling drugged, barely noticed when something was placed into Poitrin's waiting claws. He was just starting to unashamedly hump the Emperor's caressing paw when he felt something cold touch his throat, and heard a quiet snick. His eyes, which had closed, opened, and he found himself staring into the black, amused gaze of the Emperor, who stopped caressing his prick â€" by now, throbbing mercilessly â€" and stepped back, snapping his claws together once more.

"Now, my darling, you truly do belong to me." The dragon said, baring his gleaming teeth in a grin. Ravin stared, trying to assimilate what had just happened â€" the Emperor had collared him. It didn't mean he was a slave â€" thank the Gods, not that. But it did mean, something. What, he had no bedamned clue. Finally, he took notice of what the Emperor was holding up â€" holding out for him to take, in fact. A mask. Not his mask, not the plain white mask he had grown accustomed to, but instead one of the masks he had often been disgusted with: a gleaming thing, stiff with gold thread and jewels. This one, however, was markedly different: in no other mask had Ravin ever seen the sinuous form of a dragon twining through the gold and gems. This one possessed one, painstakingly picked out in blood-red wire, deftly woven throughout the mask. He took it, stunned.

"I was saving this mask for tonight, my darling." The Emperor said, still grinning. "I hoped my Magician's little wafer would bring something lovely to my palace, and so it did. This mask was made for the wearer of the red-dragon transformation. There were others made, one each for the green, blue, and silver dragons that wander my halls tonight. However, you were the only transformed dragon that interested me in the slightest. So, Ravin, I offer you my congratulations on your ascension."

Ravin stared, completely at a loss for words. Still, something had to be said. "Y-your Highness! I am honored, most honored! My ceremony wasn't to be for another month yet, but....thank you!" He cut off as the dragon leaned forwards, levering a single black claw beneath the collar at his throat.

"Oh, you'll thank me, Ravin." He said, and grinned. Briefly, the tiger felt fear, but pushed it aside, curiosity winning over. Without warning, the dragon kissed him, forcing his long, flexible tongue into Ravin's mouth. Ravin, still half-aroused, responded instantly, moaning into the Emperor's mouth. He allowed himself to melt into that kiss, paws reaching up to grab thoughtlessly at the golden-scaled dragon's hips, mindlessly needful. An instant later, he felt steel at his throat, the sharp edge of a royal guard's sword, and let his paws drop, eyes widening as the Emperor pulled away from him slightly, still grinning.

"My darling, you should never touch me when my guards are around. They're very adamant when it comes to furs handling my anointed flesh." The dragon seemed amused, but suddenly Ravin was terrified, realizing that Poitrin was quite capable of having him beheaded for touching him. It wasn't exactly a crime, but one simply didn't touch members of the royal family â€" and most especially not the Emperor himself â€" without express permission.

"Your Highness, please..." He started to apologize, but cut off when the claw that still lingered under his collar jerked sharply, forcing the metal to bite into his flesh. "Put your mask on, darling, and shut the fuck up." The Emperor snarled, and released him, turning to one of the ever-present slaves. "Bring his clothes, slave." The diminutive ferret snapped a bow, and set off at a dead run through the open doorway, presumably to fetch Ravin's discarded clothing.

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Ravin had just finished carefully securing the ties of his new mask behind his head when the slave returned, still running, to fling himself at the Emperor's feet, a small silk-wrapped parcel lifted above his head for the dragon to take at his leisure. Poitrin did so, making a small noise of pleasure as he turned to face Ravin again, flicking the silk open to reveal what the slave had brought â€" definitely not the clothing that the tiger had worn in. Instead, a finely-wrought silken robe, the same color as the threaded dragon in Ravin's new mask, slithered open. It was a short robe, of the sort that Ravin would have worn out of the baths.

He put it on without a word, refusing to think about how the silk molded itself to his form, accenting his muscles â€" he did keep in shape, after all. He also refused to think about the fact that the robe barely reached his knees â€" it was very short, more than he had thought at first glance. He realized, after a moment, that no boots were forthcoming. It was strange, but he said nothing, deciding that the Emperor must prefer it this way.

"Mmm, very nice, my darling." The dragon said, moving gracefully around behind him. Ravin shifted, feeling the silk slide across his fur â€" slide over his still-throbbing prick, and bit back a moan of pleasure. It might be a damned short robe, but Gods, it felt nice against his cock. His eyes slipped closed for a moment as Poitrin circled him, and when he opened them again, he realized that the door, recently open, was now closed. Startled, he whipped his head around, wondering if he had been left alone again, but stopped at a low, amused rumble. "No, darling, I am still here." There was a pause, and then Ravin felt the Emperor's claws slide beneath the back of his collar, holding him still.

Ravin almost welcomed the pain when, without any warning save for those claws beneath his collar, the Emperor pushed his fully-erect cock to the hilt inside of the tiger's plundered behind. With a hiss of pleasure, and a jerk on the collar, the dragon began to mercilessly thrust, careless of the spines that tore into Ravin's flesh. As he thrust, the Emperor explained, in a crooning, amused voice, exactly what the collar around the tiger's neck meant.

"After I fuck you, my darling, I shall parade you around in this lovely outfit, in front of the entire realm. Some will recognize you, despite the mask and the change of clothing." He punctuated his words with thrusts, and Ravin was barely able to comprehend him â€" waves of pain and pleasure mixed were coruscating through him, driving all but the most basic thoughts from his mind.

"Tomorrow, I will invite your family to my palace, and they will be notified that you, insofar as they are concerned, you are no longer a Telori." Ravin must have made some sound of protest, for the amusement in the Emperor's voice faded, replaced by that undeniable authority. "You belong to me now, my pet, and all your former associations will be erased from the records. Instead, you will assume one of the family names." He was still thrusting, still taking full advantage of Ravin's eager, willing tailhole, but finally, Ravin reacted to his words.

"A royal attendee?" He gasped, tapering off into a moan of pleasure at a particularly deep thrust. The amused rumble of laughter in his ear gave him his answer, but Poitrin spoke anyway. "Yes, my darling. Forever ensconced in the ranks of royalty, until you die. You'll be my newest little playmate, though your official title will be something different, of course."

For long minutes after that, the only sounds were that of the two gasping, panting furs â€" of flesh slapping against flesh. Finally, the dragon's motions became frenzied, and Ravin knew on instinct that he was about to be seeded. He whimpered, pawing at his own engorged cock, straining for his own climax. Panting and grunting, he ground his ass against the Emperor's hips, eyes closed to bare slits. Just as the staccato bursts of thrusting shifted to the deep, filling thrusts he knew and expected, Ravin's control buckled, and as Poitrin's seed filled him from behind, he climaxed, spurting gouts of white cum across the polished tile floors.

With a roar of satisfaction, the Emperor jerked his prick out of Ravin, heedless of the blood and cum that spattered him. A moment later, though, and he had reached out, dealing the tiger a stinging blow on the side of his head. Ravin, startled, toppled, falling to his already-bruised hands and knees.

"I never said you could finish, my darling." The Emperor snarled, and Ravin flinched, letting his head drop. He was still gasping, throbbing with pleasure and arousal, and unable to speak. The silk wrapped around his body billowed slightly at a breeze from one of the high, narrow windows.

"For that, you will be punished." Ravin's gaze jerked up at that, and he stared at the Emperor, but there was no humor in the dragon's expression â€" only calm certainty. "Get up," Poitrin snarled, gesturing impatiently. "We have a party to attend to." Ravin once again rose painfully to his feet, wondering what the dragon meant by ‘punished'. A whipping, or worse? He shuddered, his arousal fading completely away.

The door leading into the hallway opened, and the slave from before reappeared, bearing a bowl of hot, scented water and some soft linen cloth. With an alacrity that Ravin found fairly impressive, the slave wiped them both clean of blood, cum, and sweat, leaving Ravin to wonder how often this sort of thing happened in the palace. He glanced at the golden dragon standing near him, and decided that it happened on a daily basis.

"Come, my pet." The dragon rumbled, striding towards the door, which the slave had left open. "First we attend to the Harvest Ball, and then we shall deal with your punishment."