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Slira's Meeting

Slira walked steadily along the hallways of the Palace, predatory eyes blinking as they scanned her surroundings with instinctive keenness. The servants, bureaucrats and palace functionaries who shared the the halls with her barely responded to her presence. She was able to easily identify any visitors by the way they flinched, jumped, or emitted shrieks tastily reminiscent of a small animal that had just been spooked out of its burrow. At first, the locals had been just as bad, but familiarity breeds contempt, as the saying went... or, at least the ability to walk next to an ancient, razor-toothed predator without flinching. 'Contempt' might be going a bit far - everyone was unfailingly polite whenever she had occasion to address them, and she had no illusions that it was because of any particular respect attached to her office. She was a Consort, yes, but in the end she represented only a single, small, primitive tribal community.

Of course, she still had to remember to... moderate her behavior. Not to smile too broadly, and never, ever, run in the hallways, even if she _was_rather late for a meeting. Sayn had spoken rather firmly with her about that, although the twitching at the corners of the Empress' mouth had somewhat undermined her words. The fact that a particularly self-important Senator had been among the people who scattered like spooked sheep when she'd dashed down a hallway at the maximum speed her slender, agile body allowed her may have contributed to the Beastmaker's mirth... but hey, she'd been confident in her ability to dodge around or jump over anyone who got in her way, even on the slick marble! And, indeed, she hadn't so much as _touched_anyone, as she'd pointed out afterwards. Which, of course, hadn't prevented the Palace Healers from needing to be called in to treat several cases of trampling, shock, minor heart-attacks, a few broken bones from people tumbling down long staircases in their flight, and one nasty concussion, courtesy of a middle-aged bureaucrat slipping on a puddle of piss. The Senator had suffered no injuries, but rumors had it that he'd been in a tremendous hurry to change his robes afterwards.

Fortunately, the Palace Healers were - unsurprisingly - very good, and they'd gotten everyone back on their feet within the day, without so much as a bruise to show for it. No harm, no foul, and she'd learned to make sure that she always had plenty of spare time to get to her meetings. Especially when they were as important as this one. Most of her meetings were with merchants - an order of people she hadn't known existed before traveling to his foreign land, and yet she had already managed to form a fairly solid impression of them: Annoying, deceitful, extremely useful, and probably quite tasty, considering all the expensive food and fancy spices they tended to surround themselves with. Alas, her position meant that she'd had no opportunity to test that last theory, and she even had to give them specific warning so as to prevent any of her tribemates back home from getting a chance to have a taste either.

The merchants who requested a meeting with her were, invariably, planning expeditions to the Holy Green, her home, on what the locals had dubbed the Southern Continent. They wanted to know about local customs and laws, leadership structure, who to talk to about local trade-opportunities, what kind of goods her people might be interested in, and so on. And as was her duty, she advised them as best she could, thus helping to secure an influx of new goods and ideas that were already helping her people advance by leaps and bounds. The words of the Holy Mountain were truth beyond question, so if it said that her people lacked the capacity to innovate, it was indubitably true - but clearly, they had no trouble adapting to other people's innovations. Especially now that they once again had the ability to communicate with, and court the advice of, the Heart of the Mountain.

But, of course, there were always a few merchants who didn't heed her warnings, or perhaps they just willfully misunderstood her? As traveling merchants, they should certainly be well aware of the details of Imperial Law, including the fact that, while it set down a number of strictures about how justice should be carried out - mostly in order to prevent corruption and abuse of power - it did not interfere in what kind of penalties the dominions under its authority levied on those who had been found guilty in a suitably fair manner. And when she told the merchants that in the Sharptooth Tribes, any kind of unfair dealing, any attempt to cheat a customer for your own benefit, was considered a 'breach of community' and punished severely, she meant it. Merchants who dealt fairly with the tribe were always welcomed, of course - they added to the community, helped it grow and evolve. But those who sought to take advantage of the 'savages' and attempted to cheat them for the sake of their own profits, wound up serving the community in a different way... or rather, they were served to it.

Alas, from what she heard, rather few of the crooked merchants actually wound up as a flavorful snack for the tribe... as soon as they realized that they were facing a courtroom set up scrupulously in accordance with Imperial Law, despite the primitive surroundings, and informed that the crime they had been accused of carried the penalty of being eaten raw, which was entirely legal thanks to a cultural exemption that the Sharptooth Tribes had acquired (thanks to her humble self's hard work, in fact), they tended to suddenly be in a_remarkably_ hurry to cut a deal, any deal, that would allow them to return to their own continent with all the delicious flesh still attached to their bones.

Compared to those, the meetings she sometimes had with groups of Pilgrims from the Church of the Beastmaker were far more pleasant - a sentiment she'd seen echoed in several missives from home. She'd gotten used to the humans looking at her with either (understandable) fear, or (less understandable) disdain - the later seemingly motivated by her perceived 'primitiveness'. It didn't bother her much. The people she_lived_ with, the residents of the Seraglio, understood and respected her - that was what mattered. But still, it was pleasant to be viewed with admiration and even desire, for a change - even if she couldn't quite wrap her mind around what motivated_that desire. She was well aware that she was a handsome specimen, but she was _also well aware that human standards of beauty were quite distant from those she'd grown up with. Apparently, the Pilgrims - and the Church they were part of - tried to be like Sayn, which was a noble enough endeavor. But the funny thing (to her) was that the bit they'd decided to focus on wasn't the charisma, the ingenuity, the gentle spirit or the mysterious powers she wielded, but simply the fact that she had exceedingly... broad tastes when it came to sexual partners. Which was a fine thing, of course, but then so did Slira, and nobody was lining up to worship _her_for it.

Well, if they were strange, it wasn't a bad sort of strange. They were respectful, they listened attentively, and they conducted themselves well when they visited her homeland. She was always careful to warn them about the size of some of their tribesmen, reminding them not to bite off more than they could chew, and pointing out that just because the tribal law allowed for human visitors to take the Leg-Patterns, that didn't mean it was a good idea. Sayn had expressed some concern about that angle - that Pilgrims too eager to emulate her own feats, too eager to partake in the free-spirited culture of the Sharptooth Tribes, would wind up injured or worse - so Slira did what she could to make sure those worries proved unfounded. Privately, though, she figured that it was largely unnecessary - the Pilgrims who planned visits to the Southern Continent tended to be those who had already extensively explored the possibilities of their home-continent - they knew what their limits were, and how to take precautions. And of course, they carried healing salves and other medical supplies, 'just in case'.

Sometimes, she'd invite a few of the more attractive specimens - she liked the lean, muscular ones best - to a more 'private' meeting afterwards. They were always quite gratified at the offer, and eager to please - though she couldn't help grousing a bit every time, about how much simpler it would be if they could just do it in the hallways or on the streets, like back home. Then again, even if the rules were_the same, she wouldn't have worn the patterns here. Back home, everyone was a hunter on top of whatever other occupation they might have. Here... not so much, and it _showed. Sometimes, when she saw a particularly shapeless merchant of bureaucrat go by her, she amused herself by imagining how many hours they might have survived in the jungle, unable to either catch anything or _escape_anything...

However, her meeting today was neither with a merchant nor a Pilgrim - rather, it was a visitor from home! Well... for certain values of 'home', anyway. She paused outside the door - a bit ahead of the appointed time, but he was already here, she could tell. The scent was clear, even through the wooden doors. It set off some conflicting feelings in her - homesickness, caution... and hunger. She'd best get that last one under tight control, she reminded herself as she stepped up to the doors. They were weakly enchanted, she knew - rap them twice, and they'd open on their own. A concession for those who found it difficult to work door-handles, like the Griffons - and the current visitor. She, however, had no need for such things, her deft hands having learned the trick of manipulating doorhandles almost as soon as she first encountered them.

Pushing open the door, she stepped into the meeting-room - which had been cleared of any tables, chairs or other impediments. They wouldn't need them, after all. The one waiting for her was standing with his back turned, seemingly enjoying the view of the Capital that the large windows covering most of the exterior wall offered - they were on the second floor, and the Palace sat on a small hill to begin with, so the view was quite spectacular. Still, it had to be a deliberate gesture, she thought as she let the door close behind her. He had to have detected her scent as well, and his instincts must be screaming at him to turn around and prepare to fight - but he was ignoring them, and showing that he did not fear her.

Well, the least she could do was to return the favor, she thought, and tamped down her own instinctive worries along with the hunger, as she stepped up closer to the sturdy Three-Horn and cleared her throat. "Greetings, Chief Prorsus. It seems we are both here early." The Three-Horn turned around, finally showing her his impressive crest and the ivory spikes that protruded from it. Long enough to reach the heart of a Big Fang, she knew - and when delivered with the vast weight of such a muscular beast behind it, quite capable of tearing through the protective layers of leathery hide, steely sinew and hard muscle that normally guarded the vitals of the larger tribes. A well-coordinated pack of Swift-Claws could take down a solitary Three-Horn, of course - indeed, there was very little a well-coordinated pack of Swift-Claws couldn't take down - but a solitary specimen like herself would have little chance against such a well-armed and well-armored beast.

However, far from charging at her and pinning her to the wall with his powerful horns, the Muhuhu-Ngoubou Chieftain nodded politely. "Indeed. I must confess, I find this place somewhat... alien, and the quiet and solitude of this room made it as good a place as any to try and digest some of the impressions I've gathered." She chuckled, nodding in understanding, and walked up beside him to look out the windows he had been gazing through earlier. "It is quite overwhelming at first, isn't it? So many of them, scurrying everywhere, building and trading and coming up with new ideas... makes the Holy Green, with all its teeming life, seem downright lazy by comparison."

He smiled wistfully - clearly homesick already - and turned back around to gaze at that splendid view again. "Indeed... and yet, you seem to have adapted quite well, Lady Slira." She had to laugh at that. "Lady, is it? Are you borrowing words from the humans, now?" They were speaking in their own tongue - the old tongue of the Sirrush, which had gone unchanged even with the division between the two tribal unions. Even now, Sharptooth and Muhuru-Ngoubou understood each other just fine, when they bothered to - another part of that 'incapacity to innovate' they all apparently suffered under. Chief Prorsus, however, just shrugged, sending ripples down his broad back. "A necessity. You have title and authority here, but not like anything back home. And it is a very real authority - you stand as the representative of all the Sharptooth Tribes, and your words have pronounced effects in the Holy Green, and particularly at the foot of the Holy Mountain."

He turned his head, and she was surprised to see genuine respect in his eyes. "In a very real way, you hold greater power over the Sharptooth Tribes than the tribal matriarchs back home do. And the Sharptooth have flourished under your 'leadership', if that is the right word - as their neighbors, we Muhuru-Ngoubou have been in a fine position to observe and appreciate the leaps and bounds with which your people are advancing." Embarrassed by this undeserved praise, she scratched the side of her head with one carefully-controlled talon. "I haven't done that much, Chief Prorsus... the humans' own interests draw them to the Holy Green, and the laws of the Empire ensure that they cannot take from us without giving back in equal measure. 'Fair Trade', as they call it."

The big Three-Horn - he really was a fine specimen of his kind, she thought with a mixture of admiration and carefully-controlled anxiety - lifted an eyebrow, clearly not accepting her humility for fact. "I see. And that 'Fair Trade' is not at all helped by the 'cultural exemption' YOU arranged, then? Hmm. Well, however much or little you are doing, you are clearly doing it right. Meanwhile, my own union... tsh." He sighed, turning his eyes back on the windows, but clearly not really seeing the view anymore. "We get traders, sure... but we get little out of them. There is no 'Imperial Law' there, and we cannot deal harshly with those who deal less than honestly with us - they are, after all, Imperial Citizens, and it would not do to provoke our neighbors!"

He shook his head, then grinned. "Still, at least watching YOUR tribes equal and surpass us in short order has shaken up the self-image of the tribal patriarchs enough that they're finally willing to agree to us seeking membership in the Empire ourselves. That is why I am here, of course - as you no doubt know." She nodded - of course she had been informed, since it was well within her general area of responsibility. She knew that Prorsus had met with Sayn yesterday to formally place himself and the Muhuru-Ngoubou at the service of the Empire - in return for its protection and assistance. She _also_knew that he had spent the next two hours in a less official meeting with Sayn... and that the Empress had been walking a bit funny for the rest of the day.

After waiting a moment to see if she had any comments beyond the nod, he continued. "We sorted out most of the details yesterday, but there are a few lingering issues that need to be straightened out... like the matter of a Consort, who can look out for the Muhuru-Ngoubou's interests here, in this strange, faraway land." Slira craned her head and blinked. "Did you ask me to this meeting just to confer with me about the matter of a Muhuru-Ngoubou Consort joining the Harem? If so, I can assure you that I have no trouble with that notion. I hold no hostility for your tribes, and I have my... ah... 'appetites' well under control."

She felt a bit stupid about bringing up that last bit - somehow, it didn't feel like much of a reassurance, but anything else would just have been dishonest. Fortunately, the Chieftain did not seem to take offense, and instead quirked an eyebrow with just a hint of amusement. "I did indeed ask you here to discuss the issue of the Consort, though not in quite that way... however, since you put it that way, would you truly not be tempted if a nice, plump Great Crest entered the Seraglio and started walking around in front of you all the time, looking all juicy and tender?"

Slira chuckled. Well, a Great Crest would be the obvious pick for the task - they were natural speakers and diplomats, after all. But they were also - or rather, had also been - favored prey for the Sharptooth Tribes, seeing as they lacked any significant natural armaments or defenses, and rarely carried weapons or armor besides. Regardless, if he was going to ask that straightforwardly, she'd happily return the favor. "Oh, of course I'd be tempted! But this place is full of temptations - there are lumps of well-seasoned meat who couldn't outrun or outfight the most arthritic of the elders back home, just walking around everywhere looking like a dressed-up buffet-table!" She shrugged artfully, flashing a fang-filled grin that she would've kept carefully hidden behind her lips if she'd been talking to a human. "Frankly, a Great Crest wouldn't add much to that, beyond a bit of nostalgia-appeal."

Chief Prorsus stared at her for a couple of seconds, and for a moment she thought she'd gone too far - then he burst out laughing. "I see, I see... I suppose I hadn't thought of it that way. For me, it's almost the opposite - I see the lack of greenery in these human cities, and fear that I might soon starve! But you, ah, I will say you have it worse - and yet, from what I hear, you have so far refrained from eating anybody." She added a quick bark of her own laughter to his, then shrugged and grinned again. "Like I said - I have my appetites under control." He nodded, still smiling, and turned his eyes back to the view. For a couple of seconds, he was silent.

Then, he sighed. "Well, I might as well just come right out and say it... I'm considering recommending that you be considered the representative of all of the Sirrush tribes, instead of only speaking for the Sharptooth." Slira blinked, then automatically laughed. "Oh, sure! I bet the architects working on this place would be overjoyed at that! I've heard that they've been bashing their heads against the well-designed walls trying to come up with a way to expand the Seraglio and make room for an additional Consort - and a big one, at that - without ruining the overall design of the place..." Her voice trailed off as she realized that Prorsus wasn't joining her in laughing at the joke - but instead was looking at her with raised eyebrows, face straight.

"...you're actually serious?" She finally sputtered. "I'm_Sharptooth_. Our tribes have been at odds with yours for millenia! I've personally participated in raids past your father's precious wall, and tasted Muhuru-Ngoubou flesh. And you would entrust the future of your tribes to me?!" He shrugged off her arguments as if they were hardly worth mentioning, however. "Our tribes were one, once. We are all Sirrush, all made by the same Gods, at the same time, and abandoned for the same reason. And reunification is in the air these days, if you hadn't noticed! We're doing collaborative projects, and wouldn't you know, both our tribal unions are now part of the same Empire... and as for that last bit, well, I've personally skewered Sharptooth hunters and felt their blood flow over my skull. It's in the past, now. We aren't allowed to kill each other any longer, and we certainly have a lot more in common with one another than we do with the humans and other races of this continent."

She opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it again, unable to come up with a good counterargument to his claims. At times like this, it was hard to remember that Prorsus was still so young, barely even an adult - thrust into leadership sooner than he ought to have been due to the foolishness of his adopted father. But he'd blossomed magnificently, growing into his new responsibilities rather than letting them crush him. Whatever other flaws he might have had, old Maastrich had chosen wisely when he adopted Prorsus.

Only one effective objection occurred to her. "Do you really think you could sell this to the patriarchs of your tribes? I'd expect most of them to have conniptions at the mere suggestion." At this, Prorsus finally barked out a laugh. "Hah! Well, you're not wrong about that. But I have thought of that, you know. It's just a matter of how I present it. Downplaying the importance and influence of a Consort, waving it off as being nothing more than a bothersome, bureaucratic necessity, asking if any of them would like to volunteer to move to this faraway, alien world, and serve a capricious, despotic Empress with godlike powers." He shook his head, grinning. "I'm not saying there won't be a lot of grumbling and, perhaps, a handful of conniptions, but they'll accept it. And I honestly believe it is the best way. I can think of no-one in my tribe that I'd want to entrust this duty to, and I can hardly do it myself..."

More the pity, in Slira's opinion. The young Chief was clearly brilliant, and gifted with sharp instincts for political maneuvering. Plus, he was young, hot, well-hung, and clearly already got along well with Sayn. He'd have been a magnificent Consort... but, indeed, he was needed back home, now more than ever. Putting that aside, though... if he was actually serious about this... She let the possibility bounce around her head for a bit. Finally, she sighed. "All right. Say you can pull it off. It'll be a great honor, of course - representing the entirety of the Sirrush. It'll also more than double my workload, and create an automatic conflict of interest for me whenever there's any kind of conflict between our tribes. You may be right about us heading towards reunification, but we aren't there yet, and there's plenty of time for things to go wrong before then..."

He did not seem happy with that. With a downcast expression, he asked "Do you not want it, then? I suppose I could not blame you, but I might have allowed myself to get my hopes up..." She looked at him for a moment, then sighed again. "I did not say that. I just... well... there's a lot of cultural differences between our tribes, you know? And I don't know that much about how the Muhuru-Ngoubou operate, really. How could I represent their interests, when I don't really know what those interests are?" This, however, only seemed to brighten his face again. "Ah, as for that, I am quite prepared to prolong my visit here for several days, in order to educate you in the ways of the Muhuru-Ngoubou, and answer any questions you might have. In truth, I think you may find that the differences between our tribes do not run as deeply as it may appear. In the end, we all want the same things, after all - peace, food, security, shelter..."

This made her chuckle, and an idea occurred to her. She momentarily tried to suppress it, but it was quite stubborn, and only grew stronger and more distinct. After a brief, internal struggle, she surrendered. Why the heck not? Worst case scenario, she lost a job she didn't really want anyway. "We all want the same thing, huh?" She asked, a devilish smile caressing her razor-fanged mouth. "Tell me... you are aware of our practice of wearing certain patterns on our bodies to signal our eagerness to mate, yes? But do you know the philosophy behind it?" He blinked. "Well... I know of it, of course, but no, I cannot claim to be aware of the idea behind it... beyond the obvious, I mean." He grimaced, then. "I suppose it is a bit hypocritical of me to suggest that you study our ways, when I know so little of yours..."

Her grin grew wider. "Ah, well, maybe a little bit... but let me enlighten you, then. Other than, as you say, 'the obvious' - providing an outlet for brooding-instincts that our population-control demand go unmet - it has an important, social function. By bringing members of different tribes together, in the public space, it creates a constant reminder that whatever our differences, we are alike in the most basic way. Big or small, clever or slow-minded, everyone enjoys a good fuck. Everyone likes pleasure. I suppose that is true for the Muhuru-Ngoubou as well as the Sharptooth... though, you do seem to go about it in a rather silly way." He nodded thoughtfully at that. "Ah, I see what you're getting at... that_'_s basically an extension of what I was saying, huh?"

He flashed her a resigned smile. "As for how we 'go about it', I can't deny that you have a point. I've come to believe so myself, after spending some time with the Empress. I find myself hoping that exposure to the outside world, and to the Church of the Beastmaker in particular, might lead to the development of more... liberal sexual mores." She nodded, trying to look studious rather than amused. "Ah yes... that does seem likely! Certainly, that would make it easier for my own tribe to relate to yours. And on that note, I think I might take you up on your offer... on one condition." He lifted an eyebrow, and shrugged. "Name it." "You offered to teach me more of the Muhuru-Ngoubou. That will, indeed, be necessary. However, while you do, I would like to share the culture of the Sharptooth Tribes with you - so I request that a portion of every meeting be given over to that."

He nodded immediately, as she'd known he would. "But of course! If anything, I should apologize for not suggesting as much myself." She grinned, letting her face turn mischievous. "Capital. We have a deal, then. And we also have this meeting-room for the next couple of hours, so what do you say we get started right away?" Another, more thoughtful nod. He did not seem to have noticed her expression. "By all means. How would you suggest that we start?" Well, she DID have an idea about that...

Standing beside him, in front of the large windows, she carefully lowered her tail and moved it sideways... reaching under his broad body to let its tip gently caress the bulging sheath between his hind-legs. He froze as she leaned closer and whispered "I suggest we start with you pounding my tight cloaca until you fill it with your leaf-eater jizz. Show me that you respect our ways. That Muhuru-Ngoubou enjoy pleasure as much as the Sharptooth, and can be taught how to find it outside of windowless, sound-proofed huts."

He gaped for a moment, then closed his mouth and swallowed, eyes flickering. "What... here? Now?" She grinned, nodding eagerly. "Here and now, yes. Not out in the hallway or in the streets as I would prefer, nor in a small, dark room like you might. That is what they call 'compromise', right?" She took a step away from him, turning her back and lifting her tail to show off her cloaca. It was suitably swollen and wet - she'd been getting aroused since the idea occurred to her. "Of course, if you cannot even manage _that_much... perhaps the distance between our tribes is greater than you claim." She said tauntingly.

She felt his eyes on the moist hole underneath her tail, then heard him sigh. "Very well. Let it never be said that the Chieftain of the Muhuru-Ngoubou cannot rise to the occasion!" The hardwood floor trembled slightly under his footsteps as he turned to face her and stepped forwards, and she bent over with a sense of thrill. His heavy, quadrupedal body presented a challenge, but having spent quite a bit of time sharing a Seraglio with a well-hung Centaur, she'd learned how to adapt to that. It was a bit awkward, but she wanted to do it that way the first time, at least. And so, with her legs still straightened, she put her hands and face on the ground, and bent her long, slender tail as far back as she could, touching its tip to her spine.

Considering the size-difference, the young Three-Horn did not so much mount her as walk over her, and she found herself shuddering as his massive, muscular mass covered her, his broad chest pressing down on her tail. She'd been with some large specimens back home, even if she'd never gone as far as her misfortunate sister, but this was different. There was none of the predatory sleekness here - he was built along far sturdier lines, like a mobile fortress. And looking back between her legs, she could see that he had, indeed, 'risen to the occasion' - his cock, freshly emerged from its sheath, swung heavily between his pillar-like legs like a fourth horn, ready to impale her. It wouldn't be the biggest thing she'd taken up her cloaca, but it wouldn't be far off either - especially considering the girth near the base.

Her instincts were still screaming that he was dangerous, more than she could handle - that she should run, escape, hide! If they had quieted down during their conversation, then his new proximity had completely revived them. However, that feeling only seemed to intensify her arousal - the accelerated heartbeat and breathing, the shivering tension in her legs, the heightened awareness... it was hard to say where the fear left off and the lust began. The first touch of his cock, as it slid between her legs after a failed attempt to find her cloaca, made her shiver despite the miss - it felt hot and slick against her hide, and she moaned with urgency.

He hit the mark with his next attempt, and his conical cockhead quickly stretched open her cloaca, which had been winking and throbbing in arousal for several minutes by then. She shuddered with delight at the familiar sensation of being stretched open, filled... more and more, as he pushed forwards, his shaft rapidly widening in all direction. It wasn't all that long, but damn it was thick! The widest part of the base was thick like K'teshi's knot, but lubricated as she was, it still slipped inside her easily enough. She groaned as he reached full penetration, the coarsely-armored hide of his sheath scratching against the bottom of her cloaca.

When he started to fuck her, her legs nearly buckled underneath her, despite all their sleek, well-trained strength. The sheer power of his thrusts was astounding - each backed by several tons of muscular mass. He wasn't holding back, either - wasn't treating her like some delicate stick-figure. She would've been insulted if he did. The bone-shaking pounding, the repeated stretching of her sensitive cloaca as the thick bulge at the base of his cock tore in and out of it again and again, it was nothing she couldn't handle. It was pleasure with a twist of danger, like a really spicy stew.

She let her voice out freely as the ecstasy rose within her, panting and moaning. The meeting-room was magically insulated to prevent sensitive negotiations from being overheard, but he didn't necessarily know that, and she wanted to remind him - and herself - that they were in a semi-public space. The room was reserved, but it wasn't as if the door was locked - anyone could wander in and find them at it. The noise, fortunately, did not dissuade him - if anything, he seemed to accelerate his thrusts, fucking her faster than she would've expected such a heavy creature of being capable of. Eager to get it over with before anyone heard them? Or was he feeling a tingle of excitement at their exposed status? She was hoping for the later.

With such a thick, hard cock plunging into her cloaca, and the feeling of such a massive beast pushing down on her tail, it didn't take long for the pleasure to reach the orgasmic threshold. She hissed as the familiar tremors ran through her, and heard him groan in response as her cloaca clamped down around his rod. His thrusts faltered briefly as the resistance became too great - but as soon as the climax settled down into a pleasant afterglow and her muscles relaxed again, he resumed the pounding with undiminished force, displaying greater staying-power than she would have expected, considering his relative youth.

She certainly wasn't complaining - indeed, she was well on her way to a second orgasm (though not QUITE there) when he emitted a deep, sonorous groan, delivered a last couple of jerky thrusts, and then finally impaled her fully before releasing a flood of thick, hot cum into her womb. She sighed in pleasure at the warm, filling sensation, even as she felt the the promised climax gradually fade away now that the bone-shaking pounding had ended. Once the last few spurts had been unloaded inside her, he huffed, shook himself, and stepped back off her. She retained her position, waiting until she was sure he could see, and then waved her rear end - and her swollen, cum-oozing cloaca - at him while grinning over her shoulder. "You know, I haven't been on the herb since moving up here... you might get me pregnant..." she said playfully.

He made a rumbling laugh, shaking his head. "I really don't think that's likely, all things considered..." She sighed, pushing herself up from the floor with a slight stagger. "Oh, let a girl dream, will you? At least you're closer to being a viable mate than anyone else on this continent." He lifted an eyebrow while she turned around to face him again. "Perhaps, but that's hardly saying a lot... still, if a clutch of eggs is what you truly desire, I doubt anyone would protest if you took a trip back to the jungle and found a suitable mate for the purpose." She sighed, shaking her head. "Maybe not. Heck, certainly not, considering Sayn's attitudes... but it'd be a hell of a trip, back and forth, just to get knocked up. And then I'd have to try and raise a clutch of hatchlings here, so far from the Holy Green and the rest of the tribe... so no, I think I'll stick with just the pleasant fantasy."

She shot him an annoyed glare. "Way to bring that fantasy down, by the way. Soured the atmosphere nicely. How are you planning to make that up to me, hmm?" He at least had the good grace to look abashed at that. "Ah... well, my apologies. Would you... care to go again, then?" She grinned, licking her lips. "Back home, I rarely left my hut without a full set of patterns, or something close to it. You may safely assume that I always want another go - it's just that other, practical considerations occasionally get in the way." Making a come-hither gesture with her foreclaws, she rolled over on her back and spread her legs widely. "Let's try something a bit different this time, hmm? I've found this position works well with big, burly, four-legged types..."

Prorsus hesitated for a moment before walking over to her, and she found herself wondering if he, too, was dealing with instinct-driven fear. Just like the back of her mind was currently screaming at her to get out of the way before she was trampled into mush, could it be that a part of his mind was warning him not to place his sensitive belly within easy striking-range of the hefty, crescent-shaped claws that had given her tribe their name? If so, she hoped he was getting the same kind of arousal-enhancing feedback from it that she was.

Again he walked over her, his body covering hers, but this time she got to see it first hand - and was able to reach up and stop him with a firm claw on the shoulder. Pausing, he looked down at her with some uncertainty - which turned to surprise as she grabbed his huge, armored skull, pulled herself up, and turned her head sideways so that she could close her maw around his beak. Her fangs scraped against bony armor while her tongue caressed its edges, and after a couple of moments, it parted to let her inside. His own tongue, thick and powerful, came out to meet hers, and they wrestled with a slobbery noise. His head came down as they did, finally pinning hers to the floor and turning the kiss she'd initiated into a deliciously forceful affair that she could not have extricated herself from if she'd wanted to.

When beak and fanged maw finally parted - connected, briefly, by a thick string of drool - her arousal was just about back where it'd been when their previous session ended, and her hips were moving automatically against his belly in little, hungry twitches. Her claws no longer barring his path, he responded to her urgency in kind, walking forwards again and bringing the conical tip of his cock - rock-hard, indicating that she wasn't the only one who'd found the intense kiss arousing - into contact with her eagerly-drooling cloaca. There were no misses this time. The head slid smoothly inside, while she moaned into his muscular chest.

Then, he kneeled. Well, that was technically the right word for what he did, but somehow, it didn't quite capture the sheer impact of the move. His hind-legs buckled forwards first, sending his hips forwards and downwards with most of his mass behind it, jamming his bulging shaft inside her with even greater force than when he had mounted her before. The floor shook with the impact of his knees. Then, he bent his forelegs as well, one after the other. She squeaked, an embarrassingly rodent-like sound for a proud predator like herself, but there was little else to do - this wasn't like before, just feeling him push against her tail and slam into her hips. He was on top of her, really on top of her, his belly and chest resting against her body, trapping her between the unyielding floor and his multi-ton mass.

She wasn't being crushed, not really - even kneeling, his legs were long enough to keep most of his weight off of her - but she was definitely feeling the squeeze. His rough hide was hot against hers - thanks, no doubt, to the vigorous fucking he'd been doling out earlier. Her head was caught against his chest, and she could hear - and feel - his huge heart beat quickly, somewhere under all the layers of armored hide, powerful muscle and thick bones. And his cock, oh, it was deeper inside than she would've thought possible, their groins mashed together while her legs were forced uncomfortably far apart by his wide hips. So deep was he that even his sheath - with its layer of rough, ribbed armor-hide at the bottom - had been pushed inside her as well, and was now rubbing against the sensitive tissue of her engorged cloaca.

There was no way he could actually thrust like this - but he didn't seem to need to, either. Instead, he started grinding against her, moving his hips as much as they could, slowly but powerfully. His cock never left the tight embrace of her cloaca - at most, an inch or two of his coarsely-textured sheath was going in and out - but the sheer potency of those slow, short, grinding motions took her breath away. (Though, admittedly, the pressure against her chest helped too.) Back home, she'd frequently mated with Hornheads and Big-Fangs alike, but none of them had physically overpowered her in such a fashion...

The slow-but-constant motion was deceptively stimulating. The first orgasm basically snuck up on her, leaving her reeling in sudden ecstasy - not that there was a lot she could've done if she'd seen it coming. With the weight on her chest, she couldn't even gather the air for more than a hissing groan - she was trapped, subdued, barely able to move. Every forwards grind pushed her widely-spread thighs just a bit wider, nudging the discomfort towards the pain-threshold, but it only seemed to accentuate the delicious, stretching sensation in her thoroughly-filled cloaca. The feeling of not ever having _quite_enough air, the the claustrophobic sensation of being trapped and near-crushed, the sense of being overpowered by a creature her instincts designated a dangerous foe... it all added up to an even greater, heart-pounding arousal than before.

She barely had a chance to recover from the unexpected climax before another built inside her, growing rapidly as his body ground against hers. Trapped as she was, she could do nothing to moderate the pleasure, nothing to avoid the trembling, mind-flooding orgasms... which, of course, only contributed further to her arousal. She was helpless to do anything but shudder underneath his muscular bulk as he poured more and more pleasure into her... and soon, he'd pour more than that. "Give me your load... fill me up... paint my womb with your cum!" she croaked. 'Dirty talking' was another new trick she'd picked up from her friends in the Seraglio - she'd been taking lessons from both Thielwen and her original teacher, Lutra.

With her limited supply of air, it wasn't very loud - but Prorsus clearly heard it nonetheless, and he seemed eager to redeem himself after his earlier misstep. "I'll fill you to overflowing... over and over, until you bear my eggs. I'll put lots of eggs in your belly, make your bear my hatchlings, strong and fierce..." he grunted, grinding against her with even greater intensity than before. She could only moan in reply, silenced by another powerful orgasm. In the heat of the moment, she could forget that there was no way for a Three-Horn to impregnate a Swiftclaw, and simply surrender to her instincts, her clutching-urges.

She'd thoroughly lost count of her orgasms by the time he fulfilled his promise and blasted another load of thick, fertile cum into her hungry womb. It filled her, indeed, to overflowing - oozing back along the thick, bulging shaft to bubble out around the edges of her cloaca. The climax caused by this hot, slimy sensation dwarfed those that had gone before, and she was momentarily stunned by it. Staring blindly into space, she heard him breathe heavily on top of her, felt his massive chest expand against her own head and shoulder, and shuddered as the tremors of orgasmic aftershock flowed through her.

Once he started to push himself up - starting with his front legs - she shook off the daze in a hurry, though, and reached up to grab his chest. "Please... don't get up... keep going... just one more time, if you can..." she whispered. His cock was still hard inside her. Even if he acted mature and had impressive staying-power, he WAS still young, with all the overflowing virility that implied. He hesitated, then sighed and sank back down. "These diplomatic negotiations always wind up being so drawn-out..." he groused - and then he started grinding against her again, and she surrendered to the pleasure and the pressure once more.

The sound produced by their interlocked genitals was remarkable. She was far from a stranger to fucking with her cloaca already thoroughly filled with cum - heck, it was how most of her trips to the market had ended back home, and when they didn't it was quite the disappointment - but this wasn't that familiar 'schluck-schluck' noise. Prorsus' short, powerful grinding motions were producing some far slimier sounds, including sucking noises every time he pulled back. She could feel it as much as hear it, the way his every motion displaced the double cum-load (mixed liberally with her own juices) that filled her womb and cloaca. The broad bulge at the middle of his shaft would push the goo forwards, compressing it, applying pressure to the parts of her cloaca that were beyond the reach of his actual cock - as well as to the entire inside surface of her womb.

As a result, Round 3 proved even more pleasurable than what had come before it, and with the big Three-Horn's dangling balls - which were dragging back and forth over her tail as he moved - exhausted by the previous two rounds, his already-impressive staying-power was even greater this time around. The pleasure just kept coming and coming, with orgasms behaving less like desolate mountain-peaks and more like cresting waves lapping over a beach one after the other. She couldn't put her thoughts together long enough to do any talking, dirty or otherwise. She could only moan, groan and hiss, consumed by helpless pleasure, her tongue hanging from her half-open maw to taste the floor beneath her.

She didn't _quite_pass out from the tremendous climax she reached when her leaf-eating lover came for the third time, but it was a close thing indeed. On such a great, powerful beast, even the internal muscles that pushed the jizz out of his body and down the length of his cock were tremendously strong, so when the thick, white goo poured out of him and into her already-full cloaca, it more than redoubled the sense of pressure within her. She could feel the innermost parts of her birth-canal strain under the sheer quantity, her womb expanding like she was with egg, pushing up against Prorsus' hard belly. Needless to say, that particular sensation was the perfect capstone for a truly monumental orgasm.

Dazed and surfing on a wave of bliss that seemed to recede with glacial slowness, she was barely cognizant of Prorsus' cock finally beginning to soften within her, his youthful virility spent at last, along with most of his stamina. She could muster only a half-relieved, half-reluctant groan as he pushed himself back to his feet with a series of tired grunts, pulling out in the process. For a minute or two, she just lay there, feeling her speeding pulse gradually begin to slow again, and listening to the gurgling, slimy noise of the miniature waterfall - or rather, cum-fall - that was emerging from her gaping cloaca.

However, her past experience as an eager participant in the unofficial 'Size Queen' game of her home village had provided her with a number of advantages - including the ability to recover rapidly from even the most mind-blowing orgasm. Came with the territory, really. And as her mind cleared, she knew exactly what she needed to do, and that she'd best hurry up about it. Groaning, she managed to roll back over and get shakily to her feet, her aching legs protesting loudly against being put back into action so quickly. Prorsus, who was regaining his breath nearby, looked at her curiously as she staggered towards him - and then lifted his eyebrows in surprise as she threw herself headfirst under his belly, sliding up to his groin.

His cock, fortunately, hadn't retracted into its sheath yet - it hung limp, but still thick, between his hind-legs, liberally covered in their mixed juices. She could see his legs shivering a bit as she opened her maw around it, but he did not flinch away - which was quite the impressive show of trust. He probably knew that she'd graduated from the village's oral-course with flying colors, but it wasn't as if the Muhuru-Ngoubou had anything like that, so he wouldn't be accustomed to accepting that as a solid guarantee that no accidents would happen.

Keeping her fangs carefully clear of the sensitive tissue, she let her tongue dance - drawing on both the skills she'd been taught back home, and the tricks and experiences she'd picked up in the Seraglio. She licked it up and down, wrapped her tongue around its thick middle, let the breath from her nostrils gently stimulate the wet patches she left behind, and eagerly lapped down the juice-thinned cum. His legs were shaking more noticeably now, but she did not think it was because of anxiety anymore. After three rides - the last one pretty long, though she couldn't begin to say exactly how long, having rather lost track of time somewhere in the middle - he was clearly quite sensitive, and her tender treatment made even this exhausted limb harden a little bit and occasionally jump.

He groaned somewhere ahead. "If you're trying to make me 'rise to the occasion' one more time, I'm afraid I'll likely have to disappoint you..." he said, without actually sounding displeased with the treatment he was receiving. She would've chuckled if she had her mouth free.That much was obvious - she was already quite impressed with what he'd managed - but the partial hardening at least gave the thick tool a slight angle as it lifted part of the way towards his belly. Enough for her to demonstrate her best trick, at least. Craning her head, she approached it from the front, jaws wide-open, shifting her body to straighten her neck behind it. She engulfed him completely, teeth still carefully kept clear, pushing forwards until his cockhead hit the back of her throat - and pushed into it.

Most did not realize how flexible her slender neck was - but it was designed to allow large mouthfuls of raw meat to pass through it. It wasn't quite on the level of a serpent, but she could make a decent enough imitation - enough to swallow his thick cockhead and then some, down to the point where his shaft bulged widely. On men with more straightforward shafts, she could go a lot deeper. She let her tongue caress the bulge while her powerful throat-muscles worked on the sensitive head, applying suction to draw out the cum-remnants that had so far hid inside the big Three-Horn's urethra. A second, deeper, more drawn-out groan could be heard behind her. Her nostrils flared while she worked, taking in the heady sex-smells - unlike some mammals, her windpipe was completely separate from her gullet, ensuring that she wouldn't choke on any large lumps of meat she happened to swallow.

Finally satisfied that she had both thoroughly cleaned off the cum-stained cock _and_suitably shown off her oral skills, she pulled her head back, letting the semi-hard shaft out from between her jaws at last. It glistened with her spit, but nothing else. The taste of their mixed juices still tingled on her tongue, bitter and savory. Emerging from under Prorsus' body, she clambered to her feet - her legs having recovered somewhat in the meantime - and found him looking back around his shoulder at her with raised eyebrows. She answered the expression with a grin. "What? I don't know about the Muhuru-Ngoubou, but among the Sharptooth, it's considered good manners to assist your partner with cleaning up afterwards - unless his performance failed to satisfy, which certainly wasn't the case this time!"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Well, I suppose if you put it like that, we have some similar traditions... perhaps we aren't so different after all. Glad to hear I lived up to your expectations, too!" Her grin widened as she sauntered up to his head. "Oh, you did... in fact, I daresay I see great potential in a closer union between our tribes!" He answered with a sigh and a shake of his mighty head. "I really hope you aren't making long-range political decisions based on my sexual performance..." She gave him a friendly swat to the armored crest crowning the back of his skull, and then casually leaned against his sturdy bulk while she explained herself.

"Not exactly, but I learned a lot from this. For starters, I learned that you trusted me enough to expose your belly to my claws, and your cock to my teeth. You also proved that you respect the Sharptooth ways enough to play along with a to-you-unreasonable demand. I wasn't lying about the philosophy behind our traditions, however - and wouldn't you agree that this has brought us closer together? In sharing such intimacy, we come to understand each other better. And such understanding will be important, going forwards." He nodded, looking chastised once more. "Indeed it will, Lady Slira. My apologies for not seeing the full picture." When he looked like that, it was easy to remember that, despite his size and authority, he was younger than she was, and she ran a fond, caressing claw down his neck behind the crest. It was an intimate gesture, particularly considering her nature. Standing where she was, his neck - so heavily protected by his crested skull - was exposed to her, and with that touch, she reminded him of the trust that made this possible. "Think nothing of it, Chief Prorsus... and besides, I did also find out that getting fucked by a leaf-eater can feel really, really good."

He laughed at her teasing tone. "I am happy to assist you in learning more of my kind, as I promised... but I do hope that there'll be more to our lessons than sex." She sighed and rolled her eyes resignedly. "Yes, yes, I suspect we'll have lots to talk about, both of us, if we're going to make this work. It'll take days, maybe a week. I'll ask Sayn to set you up with a suitable guest-room for the duration." She quirked a smile again, then. "However, I DO expect you to pound my brains out every time we meet. Once you head home, it'll be a long time before we meet again - if ever - and now that I've found out what a great lay you are, I want to make the most of it! Besides, I think better after a good fuck." He mirrored her earlier, resigned sigh, though she could easily tell he didn't mean it. "Well, if you're going to insist, I suppose I'll have to manage..."

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PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE

Name: Slira Swiftclaw (Tribe-names are the closest thing to a surname among the Sirrush)

Titles: Sharptooth Consort to The Beastmaker (formerly), Sirrush Consort to The Beastmaker (recent)

Age: 29 (Life expectancy of Swiftclaw Sirrush: Around 120 years.)

Sexual Profile: 'Semi-straight' - mostly attracted to males, but doesn't mind engaging in lesbian activities in order to bond with her female friends. Has a longtime love of large cocks and cloaca-stretching activities, eagerly participating in the unofficial 'Size-Queen' game that many young Sharptooth females played in her home village. Neither particularly submissive nor dominant, but does enjoy being physically overpowered by a larger partner. Like most Sharptooth Sirrush, she also has an extremely liberal attitude towards sexuality, practicing it openly, frequently and with multiple partners - due to near-omnipresent birth-control and a lack of any STD's that cannot be easily treated, sex is largely treated as a popular hobby or sport among the Sharptooth.

Psychological Assessment: Slira is extremely easygoing and relaxed, possessing a rare ability to take things in a stride and adapt to changing circumstances with ease. It's basically impossible to stress her out, and though she can be surprised, it never seems to knock her off balance for more than a moment. Combine that with being an extraordinarily fast learner, and it doesn't seem so surprising that she's managed to fit in so quickly, despite the enormity of the shift from being an ordinary huntress in a primitive, tribal village deep in the jungles of the Southern Continent, to being a respected figure of authority living in a grand palace at the heart of an Empire that spans an entire continent she'd never even heard of before. Her relaxed demeanor and healthy sexual appetites can easily be mistaken for laziness and indolence, but she undeniably handles every duty that comes her way, and never actually lets her 'hobby' get in the way of doing what needs to be done.

Extrapolation: Of all the Consorts, Slira is almost certainly the least loyal. That is not to say that she is dis_loyal, or that she has anything less than the utmost respect for Sayn, but her Sirrush background gives her a rather atheistic approach to life. The Sirrush have lived for millennia without gods, and don't particularly miss them. The closest thing to religious reverence they have is their respect for the Holy Mountain, which is - and has been - directly helpful to them. As such, while Slira has a healthy respect for Sayn's powers and accomplishments, they do not inspire any particular awe beyond that. If she ever felt that Sayn was acting against the interests of the Sirrush in general, or the Sharptooth in particular, she would likely turn on her - directly, or through more subtle methods. Notably, Korlin is almost certainly aware of this, but accepts it because she knows that Sayn isn't _going to do anything that might inspire such disloyalty in Slira.

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