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Orichaniel's Negotiations

Orichaniel ignored the doorman's curious stare as he walked through the door, held open for him. He could've opened it himself, of course, but not without looking somewhat awkward - human architecture really wasn't made with Flower-Dragons in mind, which was fair since his people's entire existence had been entirely unknown until less than a year ago. The vast majority of the Flower-Dragons still lived on the floating island that was their ancestral home, and even those who had traveled from that place to colonize the new land so generously provided by The Beastmaker rarely left their new colony, and got relatively few visitors. This made him an exotic rarity in the eyes of humans, ensuring that he'd long-since gotten used to the stares.

Once he had entered the richly-appointed meeting-room and the door had soundlessly closed behind him, he did a bit of staring himself. He had an appointment with one of the highest-ranked factors of the Mosvaruch Merchants' Guild, to discuss trade-quotas, tariffs and other details concerning the new colony - which had been dubbed Hope by its young Queen - but had received no other details. Based on his experience dealing with the Guilds so far, he'd expected a fat merchant, fingers dripping gold - or perhaps a thin, sharp-eyed man with a neatly-kept beard, slightly stooped from too much time spent poring over ledgers and account-books.

What he had not expected was a beautiful young woman, clad in a simple, yet elegant dress of the latest fashion, intelligence and interest sparkling in her blue eyes and a slight smile curving her red-painted lips. Nonetheless, if she was hoping to throw him off balance by springing such a surprise on him - or perhaps trick him into some kind of social faux pas, like assuming that she was a secretary of some description - she would be disappointed. He nodded respectfully at her and climbed up on the chair opposite hers - again, not made for his kind, but he'd learned to adapt. "Greetings. I am Orichaniel, Flower-Dragon Consort to The Beastmaker. I will be representing the Flower-Dragon Colony of Hope in these negotiations."

She chuckled, her voice melodic, and leaned forwards intently. "Oh, really? What a surprise! And here I was afraid some random Flower-Dragon off the streets had just found his way in here..." her tone made what could have been a rather bitingly sarcastic statement into a lighthearted joke, and he chuckled along, mentally adjusting to the tone she was setting. "Well, you know how it is..." he said drolly. "Even if everybody knows who I am, I still have to introduce myself. Anything else would be rude, no? The Beastmaker herself does the same thing, and I doubt there's _anyone_left on this continent who doesn't know her face by now - never mind that her favored modes of transportation tend to leave little to guesswork in the first place."

A tinkling laugh answered him, but he spotted the slight narrowing of the eyes, a gleam of respect in them. "Oh yes, the tiresome obligations of polite society..." she said, smiling prettily. "Well, to get those out of the way, I am Iriana Medvaru, currently third-ranked Factor in the Merchant's Guild of Mosvaruch. I will be representing the Guild in these negotiations." He nodded pleasantly, keeping his face carefully neutral. It was unlikely_that she'd be able to read his facial expressions, considering how alien he was to her, but it wasn't _impossible. After all, he could read her just fine...

Her last name revealed that she was a member of one of Mosvaruch's Ten Families, specifically the Medvaru, who were one of the main movers and shakers. That went a long way towards explaining how she'd reached such a lofty rank within the guild at such a young age - but there was clearly more than nepotism alone at work. "A pleasure to meet you, Iriana." he said, making his voice smooth and pleasant. She smiled and nodded. "The pleasure is all mine, Orichaniel." Tipping his head to the side a bit, he flashed her a smile of his own. "Please, call me Ori. Most do, once they get to know me, and we have dispensed with those tiresome obligations now, after all." She laughed again, and nodded. "As you like, Ori..."

It was all he could do to keep his eyes from narrowing thoughtfully - a signal she would likely pick up on, however little she might otherwise know of Flower-Dragon facial expressions. His sharp senses were picking up a lot, and putting it together into an interesting image. Her smile, it wasn't 'polite'. Her laugh had genuine pleasure in it. Either she was a truly exceptional actress, on top of her obvious intelligence, or... hmm. He kept his voice pleasant, and a small smile on his face, keeping his head turned just a tiny bit so that she could see his profile - his facial expressions worked better on humans that way. "Well, now that we've gotten properly acquainted, shall we get started? We have a lot of ground to cover, I believe..."

And so, the negotiations got started. There was a market for his homeland's woven and carved goods in the wealthy cities around the bay, and indeed in the ever-growing Capital. They were sturdy and practical, yet also aesthetically pleasing without being showy - not to mention 'exotic'! The new generation of nobles and merchants, eager to distance themselves from the overly-opulent tastes of the past generation - and, of course, showcase their enlightened, cosmopolitan attitudes - were all over them. The money these sales brought in could buy supplies and assistance that would help Hope grow bigger and more secure, far faster than the Flower-Dragon colonists could manage on their own. Assuming, of course, that the merchants who would transport and sell those goods didn't cheat them...

There were many details to hammer out, from harbor security (the Thenarians_were_, after all, known to raid in that region) to bulk discounts to the question of whether to hire Merfolk escorts, or save the money and risk losing ship and cargo if it should encounter one of the sea-monsters of the Great Current who rarely, but_occasionally_, made their way into shallower waters to hunt. Eventually, though, Iriana leaned back in her chair and rotated her head with a groan, apparently working out a crick in her neck. "What would you say to a quick break? We could get something to drink, and maybe talk about something other than money and basket-weaving for a bit?" She asked plaintively. It fit nicely into the casual atmosphere she'd been creating from the start, and he had indeed been expecting a break like that for a while.

Sighing, he rolled his eyes. "Oh, I thought you'd never ask! All this talking will dry out your throat like nobody's business." Relatability, humor, commiseration... peppered with a roguish smile. Her laugh was definitely genuine as she rose from her seat and headed towards the well-stocked liquor-cabinet in the corner of the room. "Oh, doesn't it just!" Yes... genuine, and with just the barest hint of nervousness, well-suppressed. People tended to be very surprised by the sheer acuity of his hearing, when and if they found out about it, due to his lack of anything they could recognize as 'ears'. What they failed to realize was that the leaf-like mane that grew from the edges of his chitinous head was, in fact, a hearing-organ - a large, multi-layered one. More than just giving him 'great hearing', it enabled him to pick up fine nuances that those limited to a single pair of plain old ears couldn't begin to notice. Of course, it was also just plain acute. For example, he could clearly hear that Iriana's heartbeat was speeding up despite her outwardly casual demeanor.

Jumping down from his seat, he walked over to the pair of heavily-upholstered leather chairs that stood by the (currently unlit) fireplace, a small, round table between them. A nook for more intimate negotiations, perfect for when the merchant wanted to butter you up before he stole the shirt off your back. He was already sitting primly in one of the chairs when Iriana turned around, bottle in one hand and a pair of small glasses in the other. "How about we move over to... ah, yes, fine idea." Her voice cracked just a bit as she flashed him a smile, her invitation preempted by his initiative. Basic dominant behavior - act as if you own the place, don't wait for permission, make the space yours. It worked on basically any species, in his experience.

He scanned the bottle as she put it down on the little table and set up the glasses. "Ah, a fine year..." he commented, nodding. "Back home, hard cider is about the strongest you can hope to find, but I've grown rather fond of you humans' more _potent_concoctions." She smiled pleasantly, pouring golden-brown liquor into both of the little glasses. "I shall take that as a compliment - especially since this particular brand is produced by my family." He was, of course, aware of that, but he nodded as if it was news to me. "Your family has fine taste!" he proclaimed while she sat down beside him. Again, the smile was just a bit too warm for such casually-pleasant discourse.

"I, ah... have been told that you have no trouble with glasses?" She asked, picking up her own glass with a lifted eyebrow. He nodded. "Oh, indeed... cheers!" Leaning forwards, he delicately grabbed the rim of the shot-glass with his beak, let his tongue uncoil into the aromatic contents, and then tipped his head sharply back so that the strong alcohol ran down his tongue and into his throat. She followed the movement with wide eyes even as she drank her own. He felt the drink burn briefly in his throat as he carefully put the glass back on the table, leaving it with nary a scratch, and flashed her a charming smile that held just a faint edge of challenge in it.

He did, indeed, enjoy strong alcohol... not so much for its taste as for its effects - or lack of same. His kind, he'd realized even before leaving his home island, simply metabolized alcohol in a different way than any other species. For starters, it meant that they didn't need to worry about these 'hangovers' that humans struggled so much with - but it also meant that actually getting drunk was difficult. Alcohol, by itself, was rapidly metabolized - the only way to get an actual buzz going was to overload the body with sugars, which took preference. Cider, then - hard cider, and lots of it. A few other human drinks could do it too, but only in large quantities. This kind of strong alcohol? He could down the whole bottle himself and get nothing more than a halfway-decent, if short-lived buzz. Any mammal who tried to match drinks with him was going to have a tough time of it, enough said...

Iriana's cheeks, meanwhile, flushed from the strong alcohol, or possibly from the sight of his long, agile tongue at work. He could tell that she was about to start asking all the usual questions he always got about his kind, and that was fine - it would send her mind down the right avenues of thought, and provide him with the perfect openings to swing things around as he wanted. But first, he needed to assert control of the conversation, and get in some more charm while he was at it. "If you will forgive me saying so, Iriana, I must admit to have been somewhat surprised when I first saw you..." he began, and she leaned forwards, eyes intent. Like most people, she obviously enjoyed talking about herself - and, indeed, having others find her interesting enough to talk about.

"I have been of the impression that human society was largely male-dominated, until The Beastmaker's recent reforms. Even now, there are rather few women in any real positions of power. How did you manage to rise as high as third-ranked Factor in such scant few years?" He kept his voice smooth, lifting it in just the right places to indicate that he found her fascinating. She leaned forwards, eyes eager, and launched into a somewhat-lengthy explanation - during which she poured them both two more shots, deepening the blush in her cheeks.

The gist of it, though, seemed to be that the Merchant's Guild had a history of being secretly egalitarian. They cared about talent and skill more than anything else, and if a girl from the right family turned out to have a head for numbers, negotiations or the markets, she was given the opportunity to study and practice those skills. She would usually hold an official title of secretary or assistant or some such, but wield real power behind it. Those whose skills went towards negotiations, or who otherwise had to deal with customers and clients, were assigned a 'face' - usually a fiancee, brother, or other male relative, who sat in the chair and spoke her words through a suitably-bearded face, usually with his 'secretary' or 'assistant' hovering nearby to give him hidden cues. The sweeping reforms had, in their case, simply resulted in them disposing of their masks and getting titles to match their existing power and authority - making things simpler for the Guild, and giving them a reputation for progressiveness and adaptability in the process.

He nodded along with it all, and flashed her a brilliant smile as the story ended, admiration glowing in his eyes. "Fascinating! You must truly be a talented individual, to have risen to such a powerful position even within the old, patriarchal system." The blush in her cheeks, he knew, was no longer due to the alcohol alone, and her smile was becoming less schooled and more visibly nervous by the minute. "Ah, but I'm being unfair, dragging your life-story out of you like that.." he then said, leaning back a bit and making a grandiose gesture with one of his petal-wings. "By all means, let us even the score. If there is anything you would like to know about me or my kind, ask away!"

As he had surmised, there was, indeed, much that she wanted to know - and the alcohol had made her somewhat less reluctant to ask about it, by now. "Is it true that your society is entirely female-dominated?" The inevitable, unavoidable opening question... men and women alike had to ask, though with somewhat different tones. Still, he nodded smoothly, as if he hadn't answered it a thousand times before. "It is indeed. It could hardly be otherwise when 90% of our population is female. The small number of males are, in fact, regarded with some degree of casual scorn, seen as being hot-headed, instinct-driven and rather dense."

He could have easily stopped there, and considered the question answered... but he had an agenda, after all, so he took advantage of the built-in segue and volunteered some additional information. "To be more specific, males are viewed - with some justification - as being potentially competent at exactly three things: Fighting, hunting and mating." Iriana snickered at this, covering her mouth. "Seeing as there are no real threats on our home island, fighting rarely comes up... and while hunting can provide a nice supplement to our diets, we are quite capable of surviving off of the roots, berries and nuts that the females collect. And for that matter, the females are largely capable of... entertaining one another without male assistance. So I'm sure you can see how the males aren't particularly highly regarded."

Before she could reply with the inevitable switch to the subject of 'Drones' like himself, and how they differed from the general male population in both ability and regard, he carefully steered the subject in a different direction by tipping his head and scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Although, things are a bit different in Hope. It's got a larger male population, specifically to protect it from the occasional Thenarian raids - and on top of that, there are the Pilgrims to deal with. So the males are earning a better reputation there - not so much for being more able than previously assumed, but rather because their known abilities have proven more useful."

"Why would the males' assistance be needed for dealing with the Pilgrims? Do they cause trouble?" She asked, following his script nicely. To be fair, he suspected that she would have made the necessary leap of logic on her own if it hadn't been for the three shots of strong alcohol she had consumed so far. Laughing in a pleasant, clearly-not-mocking fashion, he shook his head. "Oh no, not by a long shot. They have been very helpful, bringing a lot to the island's economy, and many of them stay for a while to do volunteer work. We couldn't have built up Hope so quickly without their assistance - hands DO have some occasional uses, after all..." he waved one of his foreclaws with an offbeat smile, and she laughed genuinely at his joke.

"No, the issue, if one can call it that, is that most of the Pilgrims who visit the Hope-colony are females - presumably because they heard the rumors of our matriarchal society. So it largely falls to the males to share the Gospel of Love with them, and ensure that they do not leave unsatisfied." Iriana blushed a bit at this, mumbling an "I see...", while he sniffed the air, careful not to let it show on his face. He let his eyes pan to the bottle on the table and linger there as he continued. "From what I hear, they are managing quite well, despite the number of visitors. Of course, male Flower-Dragons receive thorough schooling in all their expected areas of responsibility growing up, so they have extensive experience and many tricks of the trade passed down from their teachers to draw on."

Iriana nodded, affecting a somewhat unconvincing expression of casual interest, and covered her flusteredness by reaching for the bottle and pouring them both another shot. He quickly downed it, and she of course followed suit. It rather failed to make her cheeks less red. Afterwards, she made the expected questions - how about Drones, what made them special? He gave her the usual explanation - no driving mating-urges, enabling them to think more clearly, though, as he was careful to point out, that did not mean that they did not _enjoy_sex. It was merely on the level of a pleasurable, cooperative activity, rather than something their instincts pushed them to partake in at every given opportunity.

He smiled pleasantly at her as she nodded along with this, her eyes wandering as if she was getting nervous about looking him in the face. "Actually, if you would pardon my rudeness... since you have asked of me, personally, now... would you allow me to pose another question about you?" She readily agreed. "Of course, my dear Ori. You can ask me anything!" She seemed eager for a change of subject, despite being the one to bring it up in the first place. He nodded thoughtfully. "Well, the earlier mention of Pilgrims made me wonder about something... you wouldn't happen to be a member of the Church of The Beastmaker, would you?"

She blushed brightly at this, and her eyes opened wide. She opened and closed her mouth twice, as if considering possible replies, then sighed and leaned back in her chair with a wan smile. "Ah, you have caught me... not that I try to hide it in general, you understand. I merely did not wish to seem silly, talking to someone who lives and loves alongside The Beastmaker herself, in all her fleshy mortality. What gave me away, though?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, how wrong you are... living beside her as I do, I can easily see why so many regard her as a Goddess. And whatever the truth may be, one fact is clear - she is the closest thing to Divine, to have graced this world in millenia..."

Iriana was leaning forwards in her chair again now, nodding eagerly, her eyes intent as he echoed her own beliefs back at her. Then he smiled mischievously. "As for what gave you away... my senses are quite sharp. Sharper than most give me credit for. I can hear your heart beat quickly, Iriana - and smell that you are at risk of leaving a wet stain on the leather of your chair. Just from sitting next to a creature whose like you have never seen at any Church-service..." She flinched back from this, eyes darting, refusing to meet his.

He chuckled, showing her his most charming smile. "Would you like to share the Gospel of Love with me, Pilgrim?" He said seductively. Reaching out, he touched the bottle on the table with one claw. "You have showcased the skills of your family, after all - it seems only fair that I demonstrate to you the skills _I_have been taught. The carnal secrets of the Flower-Dragons, passed on through generations that we may better serve our Queen..." Her eyes finally met his, and they were feverish. She was breathing heavily now. But still, she had not answered him, and he could tell that she was still wavering, her good sense trying desperately to scream down her baser instincts.

"I do not think you would leave unsatisfied..." he continued, smiling as he threw the last weight on the scales. "At least, The Beastmaker has always praised my skills." With a moan, she threw back her head, closing her eyes and covering her face with her hands. Based on the scent, she was definitely staining the expensive chair by now, soaking through her dress and whatever underthings she was wearing. To even the most casual devotee of the Church, the prospect of mating with one of The Beastmaker's own Consorts was simply too good to pass up. Add to that the possibility of sharing the Gospel with such a rare species, and no amount of business-sense could dissuade her.

"Please... if you would..." she half-whispered, but he heard her easily enough, and nodded. "I would be happy to help." She started fumbling with her dress, but he quickly shook his head. "There's no need for that. Just get down on all fours, and bundle your skirts around your waist. Let me do the rest." With a moan, she obeyed, getting down on her hands and knees while bunching up her double-layered skirts, giving him an eyeful even as he jumped down from his chair to join her on the floor. Underneath the ankle-length dress, she was wearing elegant, high-heeled shoes and sheer stockings with garters and garter-belt. A set of elegantly fashionable yet vaguely naughty, brocaded panties completed the look. The front of them was completely soaked through.

Sniffing at her arousal, his head close to her crotch, he let his tongue lash out to lick across the wet spot, tasting her. She moaned and shuddered even from this light touch, her arousal clearly at a peak thanks to the erotic circumstances. He gave it a few more licks, then tipped his head sideways and leaned in a bit further, before cleanly shearing through the soaked fabric with his chitinous beak. The fabric continued to stick to the wet skin beneath while he moved his head a bit higher and pushed her garter-belt aside with his nose-horn so that he could snip the waistband of her panties as well. Only when he grabbed them and pulled the now-fragmented undergarments off her body with a quick tug did she protest. "Ahh... what are you doing? Those were expensive..." she managed to say between pants. He silenced her with a quick lick across her now-naked pussy, drowning any further words in moaning.

"They were unnecessary, and in the way..." he said, lowering his head a bit so that he could deftly caress and stimulate her exposed labia and clit with his two-pronged nose-horn while he talked. "You shouldn't wear such things." As he pulled his horn away, she managed to find her voice again. "I can't walk around everywhere, naked under my skirts... what kind of girl do you think I am?" That voice, however, lacked any real conviction, and he chuckled as he leaped on her back. "The kind of girl who is kneeling on the floor of a conference-room, panting and moaning loudly enough for the doorman outside to hear while she begs for Flower-Dragon cock."

Before she could answer, he thrust into her, finding his mark with ease. She emitted a half-choked shriek as the rippling edges that marked the first half of his bulbous shaft slid across her sensitive, internal tissue, and he felt her body tremble beneath him, her arms threatening to buckle despite his fairly moderate weight. She'd climaxed, just from him putting it in. Delightful. Wrapping his foreclaws around her shoulders, careful not to let his nails sink into the thin fabric of her dress, he began to thrust in earnest, using his tail for balance as he swung his hips back and forth. Long, powerful strokes, that was the way to start - keep the knot at the base uninflated, use the full length, take advantage of the double-bulge construction and the highly-textured shaft.

He could tell from the contractions of her pussy and the acceleration of her heartbeat that she was about to hit a second orgasm already. Leaning over her, he whispered in her ear. "Think of how easy it is without that slip of fabric in the way. Imagine walking down the street, and spotting a fine young man from a Beastkin-tribe you have not previously encountered. You could then simply approach him and offer to share the Gospel with him, then drag him into a quiet side-alley and lift your skirts. Just like that, you're getting railed against the wall, sharing pleasure and love between the races, just like The Beastmaker wishes. She certainly never puts such barriers between herself and the creatures she loves..."

Iriana did not answer except to moan, a line of drool running from the corner of her mouth. As the second orgasm washed through her, her arms collapsed under her, sending her flat on her face. Her legs, however, remained firm and invitingly spread. If anything, the resulting change of angle made it easier for Ori to adapt his thrusts, varying the angle of entry by tiny amounts just to keep things fresh, while carefully making note of her reaction to every specific technique. One particular angle made her shudder, and her heartbeat accelerate even during the come-down from the orgasmic high. He tried a few other angles, triangulating based on her reactions. There! The secret, sensitive spot inside her, its location slightly different on each individual woman.

Now that he knew what to aim for, he attacked it mercilessly. Before her breathing had even stabilized after the loud panting of the second orgasm, the third rose to steal her breath away again. Her eyes rolled back in her head while she shuddered underneath him. With exquisite timing, he pushed forwards and let his knot inflate, stretching her labia from the inside and filling her with new, erotic sensations. As soon as he felt that he was locked in firmly, he altered his thrusts accordingly, switching to lightning-fast jabs that regularly scraped across her secret weak-spot while pouring relentlessly into her.

The result was what his teacher had termed a 'double-orgasm'. (Not to be confused with a twin-orgasm, which resulted when a female was stimulated to a vaginal and anal orgasm simultaneously.) An orgasm kicking in before the previous climax had even ended, building on top of an existing plateau of pleasure to drown the recipient's brain in ecstasy. It was usually a lot trickier to pull off, but Iriana's high degree of general arousal, combined with it being the first time she experienced a Flower-Dragon's skill, made it significantly easier.

"Maybe you should consider inspecting the harbor of Hope Island yourself..." he whispered while she shivered in near-catatonia. "The Flower-Dragons would welcome you eagerly... and the males would take good care of you. Just mention my name to them and lift up your skirts to show your naked cunt, and they'll happily fuck you in every hole, over and over, until the pleasure overwhelms you and you pass out." She groaned in reply, fairly close to going unconscious as it were. He kept pounding away, delaying her descent from the peaks of ecstasy, her eyelids fluttering and her pussy contracting rapidly and strongly around his knot and shaft.

Finally, feeling close to being winded despite his decent stamina, he relaxed his self-control and halted his thrusts, fully embedded inside her. A stifled groan escaped his own, chitinous beak as his balls drained, filling the human woman beneath him with his thick, syrupy, sterile seed. She moaned more freely, one hand moving down under her belly to caress it, as if feeling for the warmth that was now filling her womb. As he waited for his knot to deflate again, he let his long tongue out to caress her behind the ear and along the delicate lines of her neck. "I'll take your ass next..." he whispered. Not a question, not a request for permission, just a clear statement. "Please..." she moaned, shivering underneath him.

The whole 'dominance' thing didn't come natural to him. The females back home would never have gone for it. But he'd found that it was remarkably effective when dealing with females of other species, and the theory was relatively simple to pick up. He was still refining his application of it, of course, but this girl was providing another delightful point-source. He'd gotten a good look at her sphincter, earlier - it lacked any signs of wear or significant stretching. It was unlikely to say the least that she was a virgin back there - she was, after all, a member of the Church. But it seemed like she'd kept it light, and avoided fitting anything bigger than the human average through her sphincter. Until now, that is.

He could feel her free-flowing juices covering his cock as he pulled out, her labia straining around and then releasing his half-deflated knot with an audible 'plop'. Mixed with his syrupy ejaculate - which could get a bit sticky on its own - it formed a solid layer of lubrication. Stretching his hind-legs, he adjusted his angle and pushed the ribbed head of his cock against her inexperienced asshole, grinding it into the sphincter as he twisted his hips. Normally, he would've dismounted and eased things up with his tongue, adding more lubrication and simultaneously relaxing the sphincter with a gentle massage, but at this point that would just break up the pacing. Besides, in her current, post-orgasmic state, she was unlikely to really notice the pain... or better yet...

With a firm push from his powerful hips, he finally forced his way inside the resisting orifice, the entire, bulging bulk of his shaft slipping in all at once so that the sphincter could squeeze down on the narrow part between his shaft and his knot. Her body jerked underneath him, and she emitted a drawn-out moan rather than a cry of pain. He chuckled, and began to move his cock in little half-thrusts, pushing his slowly-shrinking knot against her no-doubt aching sphincter. "You're enjoying the pain, aren't you?" He said teasingly. Once he'd recognized her submissive streak, he'd known that the odds were decent, but he hadn't been sure until she confirmed it for him.

Not that she was actually answering his question, mind - at least not with words. Instead, she just groaned and turned her head as if to hide her face in the thick carpets. Chuckling again, he continued the slow thrusts, teasing her sphincter without really doing anything. "I'm not hearing an answer... and your ass is very tight. If I go all-out, I might hurt you, and I wouldn't want to do that... unless you like it." She groaned again, this one sounding more like a whimper, and he could feel her hips pushing back against him, as if trying to invite his knot inside. "Well?" he asked, stopping his thrusts altogether. "Do you want me to fuck your ass hard and rough, or not?"

"Please..." she whispered, and he clicked his tongue. "I can't hear you... please, what?" He felt her shoulders stiffening under his foreclaws. "Please, fuck my ass hard. Fuck me raw..." she finally moaned out, her voice clearly audible despite being muffled by the rug. He grinned. "As you desire, my dear." Flexing his hips sharply, he pushed his knot through her sphincter, penetrating her fully. Then, before the tight ring of muscles could compose itself and squeeze down around the thin base of his shaft, he pulled it back out, and the entire shaft along with it.

He pulled back until he felt his cockhead loose contact with the hot, slimy tissue altogether, and only then reversed direction, thrusting forwards with full power to impale her with his full length, knot and all, again. This was a highly advanced technique, of course, and required extraordinarily steady hips to pull off reliably - along with a great deal of self-confidence, since hitting someone's hip-bones at full speed was an excruciatingly painful experience. Technique and confidence were two things he had in spades, though, and the effects spoke for themselves.

With her previously-inexperienced anus being pounded mercilessly, his double-bulged cock and ribbed shaft creating huge amounts of stimulation, she convulsed underneath him, gibbering as the pain-laced pleasure lifted her rapidly towards yet another orgasm - this one a breath-taking, spine-curling anal orgasm. It was unclear if it was her first, but if she'd really been avoiding anal as much as it seemed, it was rather likely. As he speared her pulsating, clenching asshole with one last thrust, then let his knot inflate once more, sealing him solidly in place behind her battered sphincter, he leaned down to whisper more sweet nothings in her ear, while intermittently caressing the back of her neck or ears with his tongue.

"Your ass is delightful, my dear... so tight and sensitive... you should use it more. Don't resist, don't hold back... give your love freely, as the Book says!" He started gyrating his hips again, launching into the lightning-fast, rapid-fire thrusts that the tie enabled, giving her untried ass the pounding of a lifetime. She moaned and bucked her hips, barely recovered from the last orgasm but already climbing rapidly towards the next. "Use it, stretch it, train it well..." he continued, still whispering seductively to her pleasure-addled mind. "Welcome men and Beastmen, Griffons and Centaurs, let them fill you and stretch you like they did with your pussy. Let the pain sweeten your pleasure, and sing the Gospel of Love with renewed vigor!"

The only answer he got was, predictably, more moaning - but that was fine, he'd said his piece. Now he could focus entirely on pleasuring her to within an inch of her life, pouring all of his stamina into maintaining the rapid pace. There were no secret weak-spots to aim for, here - and with his knot locked into place, precious little room for complex techniques. All he could do was keep up the short, fast thrusts, minute after minute, grinding the flower-bud-like ripples that marked his cockhead and the side of his shaft against the stretched-open, highly-sensitive tissue of her ass. Fortunately, that was also all he really needed to do in order to send her careening from orgasm to orgasm, her whole body shaking as much with the constantly-surging pleasure as with the rapid-fire impacts.

He came, spraying his clear, sticky cum into the depths of her ass. But he didn't stop, didn't even slow down, didn't let his knot deflate. He just kept going, the sticky, sugary cum-load adding a sense of slimy resistance and friction rather than providing better lubrication. He kept fucking her, pounding her, drowning her in pleasure until he heard the hiss and smelled the bitter scent of urine - in the heat of the moment, she had lost bladder-control, and added significantly to the pool of intimate juices and syrupy cum that had already dripped from her pussy to soak into the carpet. A finer trophy to his skills he was unlikely to get.

He paused, then, stopping his furious thrusts, and took a deep breath to calm himself. Iriana hadn't noticed yet, too caught up in the ecstatic aftershocks of her latest climax. With supreme focus, he willed his heartbeat to slow, pushing his body towards calmness. His cock twitched objectingly in the hot, tight embrace of her asshole, but it obeyed - the knot shrank, just a bit, just enough. Digging his claws into the carpet and the hardwood floor beneath, he pulled back mightily, making Iriana cry out in surprise and actually skid an inch or so backwards across the soft surface, before her sphincter gave up its resistance and allowed his still-hard cock to pop out. It was left gaping and twitching like a landed fish in the aftermath, though - even if it had shrunk somewhat, his knot had still been noticeably bigger than in the uninflated state it'd had when it went in...

Marching around the prone woman, he seated himself near her head and waited for her to respond. Her eyes, fogged with pleasure, were slowly returning to focus - jarred by the sudden burst of pain from her overstretched sphincter, no doubt. As she slowly got her hands back under her and managed to lift her torso and head from the floor, looking up at him with a bemused expression, he returned the look with a pleasant smile. "I fear I only have one more load left in me, and it occurred to me that you might want to taste it. Most mammals appear to find Flower-Dragon cum quite delicious - sticky and sweet with fruity undertones, is how it's been described to me. So - care to sample it for yourself?" He gestured casually towards his throbbing-hard cock, standing proudly between his hind-legs, with one foreclaw. It was already coated in a gleaming, syrupy layer, courtesy of his previous climax.

After the string of mind-melting orgasms she'd been through, her higher reasoning was most likely still impaired, but even in this dazed state she was able to reach a quick decision. Pulling herself across the rug, she buried her face in his groin, eagerly enveloping his cock with her mouth. Chuckling to himself, he put a claw lightly on the back of her head, guiding her as she began to bob her head up and down, tongue tracing the many ribbed edges of his cock. Those soft, flexible lips gave her a clear advantage over any Flower-Dragon female, even with a far more limited tongue to go with it...

If she had any objections to the fact that his cock had come fresh from her still-gaping ass, the clear cum covering it painted pink by blood drawn from the many tiny tears in her intestines that his rough pacing had caused, she certainly wasn't showing it. Probably for the same reason that 'ass-to-mouth' didn't rate as any kind of noteworthy kink amongst Flower-Dragons - any potentially objectionable flavors were entirely drowned out by the overpowering, fruity sweetness of the cum. Of course, despite her own apparent shortage of anal experience, he couldn't exclude the possibility that she had extensive, pre-existing experience with that particular act - the 'Gospel of Love', as it was practiced in most of The Beastmaker's Churches, was orgiastic in nature, after all. So she would've had plenty of opportunities to sample many and varied cocks fresh from the asses of other women (and/or men), even if she'd been keeping her own on the down-low.

He sighed and leaned his head back a bit. Whatever the case was, she'd clearly had a fair amount of oral experience - the tongue now dancing around his sensitive parts was anything but untrained. And she was making the most of those soft, tender lips, and the tight, wet throat behind them - sometimes dipping far enough forwards to take even his knot into her mouth, pushing his ribbed cockhead past her tonsils in the process. Relaxing his self-control, he freely let her skilled mouth carry him upwards towards the peaks of pleasure, feeling his delayed orgasm begin to build again.

Finally, with a slight groan, he reached his climax - resisting the urge to jerk his hips forwards and upwards, or to grab her head and force it down so that he could pump his seed directly down her gullet. Instead, he used the claws entangled in her dark-brown hair to hold her in place at the very tip, where she could fully taste his sticky syrup as it washed over her tongue and filled her mouth. This being his third load in a fairly short space of time, however, his balls weren't exactly overflowing - she got a mouthful, and nothing more. Still, this seemed to be quite enough for her - her eyes rolled as she lifted her head from his cock, lips tightly sealed as she kept his load in her mouth, tasting the fruity sweetness for a minute or two before finally swallowing it.

The sugar-infusion seemed to give her back some energy, but she was clearly still out of it, mind foggy with pleasure and alcohol in equal measure. Giggling drunkenly, she laid her head down on his groin, nuzzling up to his still-hard cock, occasionally licking at it as if it was a huge lollipop. (Not that the flavor was too far off, presumably.) She'd rolled over on the side, and the hand she wasn't using to push his shaft into contact with her lips was down between her legs, fingers digging into her pussy. Smiling, he put one of his foreclaws on her head again, gently combing her hair and massaging her scalp, making her murmur with subtle pleasure.

"You know, this had been quite delightful..." he said, keeping his voice light, smooth and playful. "But we are supposed to get a bit more work done today..." "Mhgh... I wanna do more..." she mumbled in reply, in between running her tongue over his deflated knot in search of any remaining traces of cum. Her voice was vague and dreamy. He chuckled quietly. "Well, if we get it out of the way quickly, I might have time to get you off one more time... how about that?" She didn't answer immediately, being busy kissing her way up his shaft, running her tongue along each of the petal-like ripples that marked its bulging length. "Mmmmh... sure..." she finally said, while rubbing her face against his wet cock.

Careful to keep his voice light and the head-massage going despite her occasional movements, he ran smoothly through the remaining points of the negotiations, never posing them as questions, but rather as a reasonable suggestion on how they could be handled. After each point, he simply waited for the inevitable 'Sure...' or 'Okay...' to emerge sleepily from the general region of his groin, before jumping on to the next. Like that, they did indeed get everything tied up nice and neat in record time.

With the final issue thus handled, he bobbed his head and flashed her a smile. "Well, then, that takes care of work... I believe I owe you another orgasm now. Roll over on your back and spread your legs..." She obeyed, instantly and eagerly, while he padded around her and dipped his head between her invitingly-spread thighs. Lips gave a real advantage when it came to cocksucking, he thought philosophically - but a long, agile tongue had the edge in cunnilingus. He used that advantage ruthlessly as he attacked her pussy, licking her inner and outer labia, stimulating her clit and urethra, drilling into the center to lick her weak-spot directly - he still remembered exactly where it was, of course...

The flavors he picked up while doing so - her heady juices, his own sweet cum, and traces of acidic piss around the outside - did not strike him as terrible relevant. What was relevant was the way she moaned and panted, digging her fingers into the thick carpet, curling her spine to lift her groin directly into his chitinous face and, more importantly, into the ecstasy-inducing embrace of his tongue.That was the kind of feedback he needed, in order to keep his skills sharp and continue to improve them. Sometimes, he drew things out a bit in order to experiment some, try different things and build up extra experience... but not this time. There was no reason to hesitate, here. He went straight for all of her most sensitive spots, overloading her with pleasure and sending her into a loudly-moaning, limb-shaking orgasm in record time.

Before she had even finished shivering, he'd spooled his tongue back into his mouth and shut it with a snap. Straightening up, he flashed her a final smile - which, judging by the rolled-back condition of her eyes, she probably didn't see. "Well, it's been lovely, but I really must be going now... thank you for a fine negotiation-session." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked back to the door, knocking sharply on it with his claws. It was opened a moment later, and he stepped out to glance up at the doorman's beet-red face. Giving the man a polite nod, he continued down the hallway, pretending not to notice as the servant snuck a glance into the meeting room, eyes and mouth wide-open as he saw the imperious, well-bred, highly-intelligent Miss Iriana sprawled half-naked on the floor, her expensive dress soaked with sweat, her face stained with cum and a suspicious, wet patch on the carpet between her legs.

He didn't exactly run out of the building, but he kept up a fast walking-pace, and as soon as he had left the Merchant Guild Headquarters, he spread his flower-petal wings - drawing amazed stares from many passerbys - and took to the air. He didn't fly far, though - instead, he just whirled into the air, over the rooftops to be out of sight from the street below, and then circled right back to land on a roof that provided a good view of that selfsame street, keeping low so as not to be noticed from beneath. Settling down, he counted the minutes, making his best estimates as to how long it'd be. Three minutes at most for the last of the orgasmic afterglow to die out. A couple of seconds to realize he was gone. A minute... no, call it twenty seconds for the dawning realization to set in. She really did seem to be quite smart, after all.

Then, the combination of embarrassment and anger would rapidly chase the last of the alcohol and pleasure from her brain, leaving her sober enough to realize that she'd been had. Then, another minute or so to fully comprehend her situation. What would she realize first - that the doorman outside had heard mostly everything that transpired, or that she couldn't hope to clean up the mess on the carpet by herself? Both would only get worse once she put them together fully, and figured out that the doorman could've caught an eyeful when he exited, as indeed he did - though, it would probably be worse when her nose informed her exactly what the large stain on the carpet was. It seemed pretty clear that she hadn't noticed her own loss of bladder-control in the heat of the moment, but once she did, it'd only deepen her humiliation that much further. Should he count on another handful of minutes as she desperately tried to think of some way to salvage her dignity? No, she was too smart for that, too much of a realist.

In which case... yep, there she was, barging out onto the street in her sweaty dress, hair in disarray, and looking around wildly. Realism might have prevented her from wasting time on wistful thinking, but it couldn't dull the anger she was feeling right now. She desperately wanted to catch up to him right now, whether to wring his neck or beg him for a chance to 'renegotiate' the extremely lopsided trade-agreement she'd agreed to in her dazed condition. Or, more likely, both.

A signed contract would, of course, have been better - but her oral (heh) agreement would serve just fine. There were spells that could confirm the truth if she denied it, never mind the fact that he lived practically next door to a Kirin, whose mere presence made falsehood all but impossible. Furthermore, the Merchant's Guild had a long history of taking prospective clients out drinking, eating, and/or whoring, in order to make sure that they were in a 'good mood' when the contract was signed - and had, as a result, repeatedly made it clear that such a contract was fully binding. The precedence this had established ensured that neither the Guild nor Iriana herself could claim that the new trade-agreement was invalid due to her impaired mental state at the time.

She would, of course, be fully aware of this - as well as realizing that even trying to use it as an excuse to her superiors when they asked why she'd agreed to such a deal, would require her to barefacedly admit that she'd been seduced and fucked stupid. None of which was calculated to quiet the seething anger and frustration inside her right now. Her family-name, status and rank would almost certainly insulate her against any real repercussions for dropping the ball - beyond the further humiliation of a 'stern talking-to', perhaps. But the damage to her reputation would be very real, and the gossip would spread rapidly from the doorman and whatever servants wound up with the unenviable duty of cleaning up the conference-room. There'd be lots of whispers and snickers in the hallways, with covert glances and knowing grins whenever her back was turned.

His eyes weren't entirely focused on her, as she twirled around in the middle of the streets, looking here and there and - to her credit - up. He was also scanning the crowd for likely subjects... ah, yes, there was a good one! Wolfkin, young-looking, wide-eyed, new to the big city, clad in a simple loincloth in recognition of this whole deal humans had with 'clothes'. As Ori focused on him, he could see that the young wolf's nose was wrinkling, picking up on the smells emerging from Iriana's sweat-soaked dress and, more likely than not, the traces of urine that still lingered on her thighs and groin. The Wolfkin had even more acute sense of smell than himself, so even the tiny amounts involved would not likely be missed. Young as he was, this was enough to make the pup pause in his tracks, eyes torn away from the tall, colorful buildings to focus instead on the woman with the wild hair and wrinkled dress. A bulge was building in his loincloth.

Iriana, meanwhile, had clearly realized the futility of trying to catch up with him, and looked down, one hand on her forehead while she cursed under her breath. Then she noticed the young Wolfkin. From this angle, he couldn't see her eyes, but he could imagine the way the resigned anger in them would give way to calculated interest. Wolfkin were fairly rare - their numbers low after scuffles with the human city-states in the last years before the rise of The Beastmaker - and most of them were staying at home, working hard to rebuild those numbers. Of course, there were always a few rebellious youngsters who didn't care for their parents' insistence that they find a nice girl and settle down ASAP to begin churning out fresh pups. Seeking their fortune in a place like Mosvaruch or the Capital seemed more appealing to such adventurous youths! Still, it was entirely likely that Iriana hadn't had a chance to encounter one during any of her past Church-Services...

Seemed like this was, indeed, the case. Putting her hands on her hips, she leaned a bit forwards to inspect the Wolfkin closer. He, for his part, recoiled slightly from her sudden interest, but the way his loincloth was turning into a tent spoke for itself. _She_clearly noticed it as well. Despite his acute hearing, he couldn't pick specific words out of the general din of the busy street, but he could tell that she was addressing the Wolfkin - and see his eyes widen even further, before hesitantly nodding. Without further preamble, Iriana grabbed him by the paw and - after pausing a moment to gaze back towards the Merchant Guild Headquarters and grimacing - pulled him into a narrow side-alley on the other side of the street.

Moving quickly and stealthily, Orichaniel took to the air again, fly-leaping to a neighboring rooftop that gave him a clear view down the alley. Iriana hadn't wasted any time, he saw - she was already leaning against the wall, her rear thrust out and legs spread while she pulled her already-crumpled skirts up around her waist again. The young wolfkin stared wide-eyed at her now-exposed rear, bearing the clear signs of recent and vigorous sexual activity - his nose practically vibrating as the heady scents previous caught under her skirts now filled the air around him. Tearing his loincloth aside, he revealed a bright-red, pointy, canine cock, with a clear bulge near the base - his still-uninflated knot.

Ori cocked his head as the Wolfkin stepped forwards to grab the offered hips, narrowing his eyes. Would she... yes, she would. The hand she'd used to pull up her skirts now guided the throbbing hard-on towards her asshole, which likely remained fairly loose and elastic after his earlier use of it. Did she know that Wolfkin had the ability to 'self-lubricate', or was she just counting on the remaining cum lining the insides of her ass providing sufficient lubrication by itself? Or maybe she just didn't care much. As soon as he started pushing into the right hole, she put both hands on the wall, a clear sign that she'd let him set the pace.

And set it he did. The young Beastkin obviously didn't have Ori's experience or education, but he did have his instincts, and he knew how to follow them. He rammed his cock forwards without hesitation, pushing his knot through the until-recently-inexperienced sphincter, where it quickly inflated. Since they were away from the bustle of the street now, Ori's directional hearing allowed him to pick up most of the sounds they were making - including Iriana's gasp of pleasure and surprise. The Wolfkin's knot would inflate significantly larger than his own, he knew - filling the lower parts of her ass to capacity, and making her sphincter strain and deform outwards under the pressure of the knot's expanding base.

Then the Wolfkin started thrusting - rapid-fire, hips a blur, the large knot keeping him from falling out - and the alley filled with the pants and whines of dogs in heat. Most of those passing on the nearby street were too occupied with their own business to notice, but a few heard the noise and paused, looking down the alley to catch the sordid display. Some blushed and quickly ran onwards, he noticed, while others stopped longer, watching or even making rude gestures that the two in the alley entirely ignored, lost in the throes of their own pleasure.

He'd seen enough by now to know that he'd been fully successful. Indeed, he was fairly confident that Iriana would take his suggestion about visiting Hope Island to heart, probably justifying it to herself as a chance to renegotiate the agreement directly with the Hope Colony. He had to make sure to send a note along with the news about the excellent trade-agreement, telling them to give her 'special treatment' when she came by. Still, though... there was one more thing he was curious about, and he wasn't really expected back at the Seraglio at any particular hour. So he lingered, and watched dispassionately as the Wolfkin railed Iriana against the rough wall of the alleyway with all the energy and virility of youth, his furry hands digging hungrily into her naked hips.

Certainly, he had abundant supplies of both. Ori counted three orgasms on his part, each announced with a strangled, yelping howl that tended to draw several more eyes into the alleyway. He didn't even pause after the first two, though - didn't give his knot a chance to deflate, just kept pounding away, driven by a lustfulness that was far removed from the instinctive drives of his feral kin. He was less sure about the number of climaxes Iriana reached - some of them seemed to blend together - but he estimated that came somewhere between 6 and 8 times over the half-hour it took the Wolfkin to exhaust himself. Her widely-spread legs were shaking by the end of it, as were his - albeit to a somewhat lesser degree. After his third and final orgasm, which had taken over ten minutes to achieve, the young Wolfkin finally stopped his thrusting, leaning heavily over Iriana's body as he panted heavily, his hands leaving her hips to rest on the wall next to hers.

Since the Wolfkin lacked Ori's discipline and self-control, they were trapped like that for about another ten minutes, waiting for the huge knot to naturally shrink down enough that he could pull out. When it finally happened, Ori leaned eagerly out over the eaves of the rooftop he was hiding on to make sure he got a good look at what happened next. The Wolfkin remained where he was as his still semi-hard cock swung out, dangling heavily between his furry thighs, while Iriana tiredly slid down the wall, collapsing to her knees. Then she pushed herself away from the wall, looked behind her - and licked her lips.

The Wolfkin's canine cock was thoroughly marinated in cum, courtesy of his three no-doubt voluminous loads. The bright-red surface was practically invisible, right down to the upper curve of the now-deflating knot. The same cloudy-white goo was leaking from her gaping, twitching asshole as she shimmied around, put her hands on the young wolf's sturdy hips and leaned in to begin licking his cum-stained shaft, cleaning it with her tongue, clearly not caring that it had just spent forty minutes fully embedded in her ass. Ori nodded as he watched her finish with the shaft and wrap her lips around the head, sucking eagerly while the Wolfkin shuddered and moaned above her. (He had to be rather sensitive after a lengthy session like that!) Idle curiosity: Satisfied! Her willingness to go ass-to-mouth on him earlier had nothing to do with the sugary flavors of his cum, she clearly just had a preexisting fondness for the deed despite her apparent (now eliminated) reluctance to go heavy on the anal itself.

Nodding with satisfaction at having collected this additional - if not terribly useful - data, he spread his wings again and leaped into the air, flapping them strongly to gain altitude as he flew away from the couple in the alley and Mosvaruch in general. A solid day's work, he thought to himself with expressed satisfaction as he settled in for the short flight back to the Palace, and the Seraglio within. Not only had he secured a favorable trade-agreement for the Hope Colony, he'd also pushed a girl with an abundance of wealth and strong connections squarely into the arms of the Church of The Beastmaker.

He had known about her connection to the Church even before walking into the meeting-room - though, of course, he hadn't known that he'd be_meeting_ her. Rather, he'd informed himself about anyone within the Merchant's Guilt who had any standing in the Church back when he first started dealing with them. After all, even while he was working to help his brethren in the Colony - and by extension, back home on the floating island - it was his duty to help his Empress in any way he could. Thanks to his seduction of Iriana and the suggestions he'd planted in her during their intercourse, she'd soon feel isolated within the Merchant's Guild. The gossip, the leers, the reputation for sluttiness, would all stick with her for a long time...

Previously, she'd been only a casual Church-goer, but now her Church-mates would be ever-so-impressed when she told them that she'd 'sung the Gospel' with a Flower-Dragon - and they'd just about canonize her when they found out that it was with one of the Beastmaker's own Consorts. Combined with her newfound lack of restraint, and a sense that if she was going to be known as a slut, she might as well get the benefits thereof, she'd easily be pushed ever-deeper into the Church, forming closer bonds there than at her workplace - and in the process, deliberately or not, putting her wealth, name and contacts at the Church's disposal.

He liked the Church. So much about human society and morality was alien to him - even if he learned it by rote and memorized the facts, it was hard to really understand how a society could function without the omniscient eye of a Queen watching over it. But the Church was at least as devoted to his Empress as anyone back home was to the Flower-Dragon Queen - they hung on her every word, and sought to spread her philosophy to anyone who would listen. The stronger they got and the greater their reach, the easier it would be for Sayn to impose her benevolent will upon the Empire...

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PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE

Name: Orichaniel

Titles: First Among Drones in the Court of the Flower-Dragon Queen, Flower-Dragon Consort to The Beastmaker

Age: 43 years (Flower-Dragon Life Expectancy: Around 150 years. Limited senescence.)

Sexual Profile: Sterile, and lacks any outright sex-drive. Views sexuality in a highly utilitarian fashion, and while he is perfectly capable of deriving pleasure from sex, he remains almost entirely focused on his partner. Has no compunctions about using his well-honed sexual skills as a tool, and has virtually no limits as to what sexual acts he's willing to engage in if it suits his partner and his purposes.

Psychological Assessment: Highly intelligent, frighteningly perceptive and blindingly charismatic, he has adapted rapidly to human society, and while he remains dedicated to assisting and promoting his own kind - which is, after all, part of his job - he has transferred his devotion almost entirely to Sayn. However, he clearly still finds it difficult to truly comprehend human morality, particularly notions of privacy and self-determination which are wholly alien to the borderline hive-mind of the Flower-Dragons. As such, he is quite capable of doing things that Sayn would disapprove of, if he judges that it is in her best interest.

Extrapolation: Orichaniel's devotion, self-discipline, training, experience, and lack of any driving, sexual needs essentially make him the perfect sex-partner. Once, he used those talents for the sake of his Queen - now, he uses them for the sake of his Empress, and he'll happily use them to seduce and manipulate anyone, regardless of race, sex, age or attractiveness if he perceives an advantage in it. It would be wrong to consider him amoral or evil for this, however - rather, his personality is simply founded in a completely different and alien morality, with a practical understanding of the workings of human society layered on top of it. Exactly how far he'd be willing to go in the service of his Empress remains uncertain, but it seems unlikely that even knowing that Sayn would heavily disapprove would dissuade him, if the perceived benefit was great enough.

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_ END _