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Gerlis stood at the back of the runner and before the double doors twice her height.

The tinted slight sickly green grey clouds of the morrow shifted and convulsed, mushing, rumbling, shading horridly the forty marshal guards, lined on both sides of the balcony jut from the tower, wearing open-faced plate black with cloth white hung from their sides reaching knees. Every night this white cloth was bathed, or stained from ignorant foreign view, with cleanly 'ness release then laved on the morrow to renew. Every night. Black and White, sacrosanct save for during the right windows by Red, were never to be coloured at any other time.

'Captess Axila,' said Gerlis, who steel enameled sable and plated her form from horns to clawtips, eyes shadowed gold. 'Your tasteable scent overpowers my nares; why have you not cleansed your cloth?'

The clouds parted before she would've answered.

From the sky came wings that brushed the masses apart, sun ever following, never preceding, Her Royal Grandeur, the Queen of Renait: Matriarch Dorissa of the Peaked Crowns, and Ruler. Returned from her survey of the Kingdom across the mountains and windswept vales, Desnir, she was come to her Marshal officially to visit to assert her dominance. Unofficially to visit to reassert her dominance.

Her Grandeur, the Queen, descended, flanked on both sides by eight of the Royal Guard. At the end of the balcony she alit into a walk sans so much as to bend a limb or pause, straight wedge-shaped head held high above all, scales onyx perfected agleam with each step. A faint purple glow bled through the silk, pinned by a hitherto unseen topaz-set brooch, that swathed her chest, which pulsed slight while robes of unreasonable length and folds swept along the runner, charcoal across gold, as down towards the doors she strode.

Gerlis looked up to meet her eyes, with that the Queen was a head taller, albeit not quite so muscular, then dipped. 'Your Grandeur.'

'Marshal, kneel.' Ice oiled into sheets enveloped the listener, something she never accustomed to.

'Your Grandeur?' Never in public; that they had agreed on for the five years last.

She said nothing in response. But she said everything.

So Gerlis knelt on her forelimb, rear up like some 'ness of the depths about to be mated by a 'tal. Disgusting thought. Absolutely disgusting. Were she to go any further--

'Am I to be disappointed, to be disobeyed.'

She knelt on both forelimbs, exposed in full, as the guards witnessed. And eagerly did they witness. Her limbs wouldn't straighten.

The Matriarch walked past around her hind to stand abreast and leant down, breath released to tickle an ear.

'Will I step back to mount thee as though I were a 'tal before the whole of thy guard who do naught but watch?'

'My guard, counts more, than forty, Your Grandeur.'

'They all will be called. Answer.'

'No.' There was a strengthened temptation, to feel her on her back. To be touched. But not like this, not humiliated. Instead, dominated by Her, and Her alone.

'Thou choses to ignore thy desire?'

I will refute it with your face on the ashlar, was what she tried to say. 'I deny it.'

'Hm.' She leant away. 'Very well; Marshal, rise and accompany I.' The will to do aught but heed yielded.

'Yes, Your Grandeur, yes.'

'That smell.' Sound was all that gave clue to that she breathed at all. 'Thou too, guard.' Eyes drawn flashed violet at the guard before they passed Gerlis, who was expected to walk beside but slight behind, not equal nor in front. 'Red trimmed black on gold would better suit.'

'Your Grandeur, I fail to prehend your meaning.' Ah, the runner; the Queen bit before she would have rescinded.

''Tis clear as day, to thee, blinded, I say. That put aside, to thy chambers forthwith.'

Axila strode up beside to say, 'Your Grandeur, I apologise, but there must be a misunderst...oh!'

Dorissa started to kiss her. Very, very sensually, with licks too. All the other guards openly watched save her the Royal Guards, who enclosed the two in a ring of unfazed steel, smalls gaps left at the request of Her Grandeur. When she finally pulled away, but not before she licked a last across her lips, Axila was swaying down to her knees. She chose to hold back, it seemed.

'Come,' she bade.

'What do ye report of Desnir, Your Grandeur?' Gerlis asked as they went through the halls, the dazed Captess, carted by the Royal Guards, trailing. So many steps clacked and clicked.

'Well adjusted to its rulers; the humans demure not should one do as she will, the scarce grown count of dragons nonetheless to crawl. I regret that I failed to capture the human Queen, Esitera, from Rhelcya to ransom her for their monogamy to become more...open minded. Their frequencies simply proved too well tuned to each other for I to whelm. Ah, dual queens. A romance beyond we.'

It was beyond them, wasn't it.

'Although, that she bows to the unfinished notions of equality that humans drag around themselves irks I. Esitera should be her pet at most, not rider. To think, a biped to ride a dragon. Hmpf. It repelled me to degree that rent my trip to half...Thy silent concurment concerns.'

'Human women aren't so bad.'

'Repeat that which thou has said.'

'Human women are not so bad.'

'Hear that, my guard? The Marshal gorges herself on any scrap of femininity, quality disregarded.'

'And you any male.'

'Oh I am going to fuck you.'

In truth, she had but once lain with one 'tal to lay a lone egg--wherefrom the diminutive Princess Sia hatched--and then she killed him, as was royal tradition. Blood did very little to ensure the strength of the throne, as the Broken Matriarch of yore had proven.

At the chambers, the Royal Guards set about securing the balcony and door both from outside. Though well-lit by candles, it was a sparsely filled room, little in the way of furniture, no rugs or artworks, and the walls were grey, unpainted, unplastered. This was bleak to fools. Decoration was to demonstrate wealth to the public, as far as Gerlis was concerned, not to foster coddled weakness. Yet, in the centre, there lay a canopied platform bed that was so immense it would yield to no less than the pressure and weight of six of herself, or so the carpenter hired by Her Grandeur had told three months past. Yes, the bed, grossly cushioned, too, was there for reason fully singular.

'Hence to romp thee.'

'Wha--'

Her Grandeur threw Axila at the bed like a toy, who shrieked, as the doors shut and leapt onto her while Gerlis plodded to her desk, doffing helmet and most of the rest, to write with quill, read reports, something about a spike of noble deaths, but for humps rapid, room a-shook, to drag the ends of her letters long.

'Your Grandeur, I--ooh!...'

Her cries continued till the last incomplete document was reached.

'Reports sent from the garrisons that guard other cities,' Dorissa said after she slid out the last sheet from under Gerlis's left forelimb, plate's last, vambrace, to follow. 'Thou watched not? Did those horns, fakes both, block thy back glance?'

'I wear them because all other hornless have so done for a year now.'

'Save I.'

'Save ye. And are ye done yet? Did ye come this far to vex me?'

'Marshal Gerlis, as part of my harem, thou shall refer to I by title.'

'Your Grandeur, I am not a member of your--'

'By full.'

'Your Royal Grandeur, the Queen of Renait: Matri--'

Dorissa laughed and placed a hand on the papers, then scattered them. 'I jest in request, yet loyalty thy response evinces; I shall bed thee mine afresh.'

Purple flashed, the robes fallen; and Gerlis found herself pressed to the dampened bed, curtains candlelight glew through tied shut, a weight pressed down to her back.

'More to thy liking: a duo.' She slid back and raised the tail of Gerlis near as far it would bend to arch her back and lift her hind up, up, and up.

'Slow.'

'Nay.' She rose onto her hindlegs, stood like a man. A. Man.

'Lie on my back, please, My Queen.'

'Hm, I think not. Haps I ought to disaffirm label given, for duo implies equalhood to some extent.' She thrust and fluids sprayed, slit slammed to slit, the impact whereof shoved Gerlis right into the tasseled cushions, which, speared by her horns, puffed feathers that stuck to her face. "Imagine: the court all to find that thou, Marshal Gerlis, prided Butcher of the Damned, of the Fell, are mounted by the Matriarch whom she swore publicly to dominate a decade ago; for one to fall to such fathoms and enjoy it as much as a human does appals; but all learn their place, howsoever abjected be it.'

'I am no human woman nor meant for some human man!' she roared and rolled, steam pouring from nares, and Dorissa was forced onto her back and topped.

'At last the truth exact,' Dorissa said. She kissed Gerlis.

Then grabbed her to start to wrestle for the top. Ten years, inch by inch, Gerlis ad infiltrated her Queen's life, thence chambers, thence bed, but to be bound to her will at half thereafter. Both were to roll about when a voice shrieked, 'Ye'll crush me, stop!'

'Ah, yes, thou, who are...?' She undid a curtain while she stared at Gerlis.

'Captess Axila, you may go.'

'I further release thee from the Marshal plus send thee to serve Archduchess Eyila.'

'Your Grandeur,' Axila said, eyes darting to her Marshal to look for support, 'with respect to your personage, I must...object. Swapping us out so often has weakened the guard. Replace me and I will not be able to shield your soft, sweet slit...' She was drooling.

'Do not...disrespect...Her Grandeur.' Given her treatment of her the words had yet to flow freely.

'Oh, wait, no I didn't mean...' Her eyes widened as the Queen smirked. She wiped the drool off with a claw. 'Ye raised the point to me first, Marshal. Ye say it.'

Gerlis turned to Her Grandeur, the Queen. 'Swapping us out so often has weakened the guard. Replace me and I will not be able to shield your soft, sweet slit...' Now she was drooling too, but only for a half second, during which Dorissa guffawed. 'Your Grandeur--'

'By the gods, Lis! If I hear you say that again so soon I will banish you to the farthest reaches of the south where those patriarchal pangolins live. I passed my egg bearing years, not advanced into anility. I recall your beings.'

'Fine. Dorissa.'

'Yes?'

'Stop throwing my experienced harem away. And cease manipulating my words with writecraft.'

'Ah, more to the heart of it. Nay. I cycle them as I cycle mine--thine will return to thee in due time, as do mine to I--to vary my pleasures. For the second, I have not done aught. Not actively.'

'I guess I have little chance to protest. Whatever it is, it will backfire on you.'

'I doubt it.'

'Your Grandeur, the copper stockpile is running out.'

'Axila,' Gerlis said. 'How did you come about that?' Had she been reading the reports, unpermitted?

'Whatsoever method whereby she did matters not. Before thou goes, Captess, tell Stewardess Zorica to up the mining of copper by a tenth.'

'Me? I'm but a captain. Your guards bar the exits too.'

'That they do. Pass my Guard with, and deliver her, a token of mine.' From her robe she pulled a treat sealed in gold stamped with her sigil: a writecrafted purple dragon pointed to the sky. Axila stared at her hand.

'Your Grandeur, the 'tals barely sleep.'

'So?'

'They'll die...'

'And be replaced.'

'How would you have learnt of their sleep patterns?' Gerlis asked.

'I venture the depths to find minerals for my horde, during which I note when the flyways are filled and when not.'

Both Gerlis and Dorissa looked at each other and said, 'A horde?' before they chuckled. 'Axila, go report to the Liu' Kaiel and be detained. I will take this token to Zorica myself.'

'That is unneeded; Archduchess Eyila will soon shape her; and reduce her fainting.'

'If ye think it the call. Make it a fifteenth also. At the rate we're using it,' she added as Axila left, 'Telil better be overjoyed when she sees the gift.'

'Would thou not be?'

'To submit to you for the first time? No.' Being humped to near death within one's fortress was an acquired taste.

'At fifty years she has scarce wisened enough to guess the scope of my desires planned for her.' Dorissa lay on her back, the curtain closed again, and beckoned.

'No more human play.'

'But thou so allures when enraged so. Does the thought frighten thee, of an orschera or pangolin or even man who would overfill thy oviducts with his seed?'

'Rissa, please; I detest it.'

'To jam pack thy insides with their virile come that would shoot out as a thick geyser of white as they pulled out then marked thy body and claimed thee eternally as their property and repeated till all those proud muscles of thine were bloated and ruined and thy belly distended to make thee into nothing more than a submissive pet with dignity raped from her body and her mind broken? '

'I SAID NO MORE!' The walls shook, the curtains blew back, and the guards entered.

'Avaunt, for I suffer not,' Her Grandeur said; their compliance was instant. 'That I have toyed with thee overmuch with the writings of my daughter, writings that revolt, would seem to be so. But thou responds strongly; never has thou told I that which occurred that day, of which I have but an inkling, nor thy subordinates.'

'They raped my mother; they penetrated her; they gaped her; they killed her. Men.'

Dorissa stared at her and further tightened the curtains. The clouds outside had loudened, mashing the air and current. 'The merchants of Silay, south-western curs all. I'm sorry.'

'They didn't even use her corpse for her horns or scales. They left her to rot.'

'Gerlis...'

'When I found her, her eyes had gone to maggots. When I found them, I killed them all. But not their families, and that, I will live to regret someday.'

Dorissa's forelimbs wrapped around her neck and brought her head to her Queen's chest. For many a tick, a whisper, they lay there, quieted.

'Do you want to continue?' Dorissa asked.

'Yes.'

'To further matters thence; thou ought to relax the attire of thy guard. Necks unhidden, and better views of such as this,' Dorissa said as she clasped Gerlis's rear between her hands, 'muscle whereof most ample begs to be kneaded.'

By her thighs was her hind raised. A tongue hovered just before her slit.

'Marshal: Thou accosted Crowne Princess Sia why?'

'Ye learnt not of that which I have been doing for the past week, Your Grand--'

Then she betrayed her.

A claw plunged into her cloaca; her muscles spasmed at intruding where tongue was expected. 'Stop!'

'I bid thou talk.' Cold. Her voice was cold as her claw. Spreading. Flesh.

'I can't have things in there; you learnt that! It hurts me more than...ah, even other 'nesses.' Her teeth clenched. 'Stop!' She couldn't move.

'Talk. Now.' She started to mimic that mammalian fisting.

'Because...she'll, fail, you.'

'Thou will not?' The claws stilled. 'Thy silence says all. Sia need be wrought, not molested.' Her hand withdrew.

Just as the top third of her longest claw was snapped and that third shot out and embedded into the back right columnar.

While Gerlis, unscathed, froze, Dorissa brought her claw to her own face to inspect it, her body otherwise composed as ever--ever to refuse to grant even the smallest of satisfactions to her foes and allies alike. She was insurmountable.

She loved that about her.

'I start to experience a pain that excruciates. Yes, this hurts; it hurts quite a bit, I should say. Hmm, thy cloaca indeed snapped my claw; it will regrow but I shall call for my gua --'

'For a breeder you sure don't handle sex pain well. Your Grandeur, Flower of the North.'

'Thou dares to think I a flower? Nay to the Guard; I shall set thee right myself.' Claws regripped thighs tightly, pain clearly defied. 'Thy fulsome flesh and thy pungent scent be mine to explore.' Her tongue traced the outer edges of Gerlis's heated vent, liquid to spread across tastebuds, a taste's clear enticing given spurred licks that dragged from the mid, up, up along to the top to collect every drop of her flow's turning to gush, the push gentle to massage while those hands dug into her thighs, the missing claw end of the right evident but forgotten to incise to draw drops of blood from the gaps between two scales there, and that tongue worked--and reached, reached to her the top of her mound, yet arched in such a way as to avoid to touch her slit as it slid back so slow, so slow, before her slit was, by the very tip of it, touched, and she bucked back into her to best press against it.

'I shall have Queen Telil too one day soon,' Dorissa paused to say. 'Gods, could thou imagine her between us? I would treat her so well.'

'Then what? High Queen?'

'Nay, Empress, thou boor; Renait is but a city or two away from might that others shall call empire.'

A tap on her left thigh commanded her to return the Queen's favour, and return it she did; her head dipped to her slit, rocken lips made softened to lips thinned to lines, and drank from essence tinted purple, face soon slathered with a glaze of the stuff. Erelong her face was pressed to it, smothered with its blest warmth. Strings formed and snapped with each pass of her tongue, her own legs twitching as Dorissa kept pace.

'Picture all the others of mine harem with their tongues slicked across thee.'

Gerlis hastened her licking, focusing on pushing that idea from her Queen's mind.

'Gerlis, thou has been for some time, and are, joined to my harem and shall revel with the rest, in days to come or years, and it will be of thine will avowed.'

'Then that Gerlis will n-not be me!' She felt herself start to pulse, a long series of little twitches set beneath a wave rushing along, beginning to coat her Queen's snout, lips, cheeks, and all.

'I savour thy flavour, sweet and gentle more than any would ever guess, and now I release!'

The Queen's was so, so, so sweet, addicting. She couldn't have enough. Why did it have to go this way. She was helpless to no one but her and her heady scent.

When the vestiges of their respective arousals oozed their ways to their mouths, Gerlis said, 'One day, you and I will fly a few loops around the city.'

'Oh but Lis, I would love to see you win.' A smug grin rested against the underside of her tail.

'Shall I leave my chambers to you for the night, or have my servants light the way to the guest chambers?'

'Sleep by I, my Marshal.'

'Yes, my Queen.'

When she woke, Dorissa spoke, 'My mind remains unchanged.'

Was she speaking to someone? There was no one else here. None would dare enter her chambers while she slept, let alone were the Queen within as well.

'Yea, thou would look best without the horns, dear.'

'And ye, remaining here in Renait, within my vision.'

'I shall return once I will it, Marshal Gerlis. I will be gone for but a fortnight at most,' Her Grandeur said. 'Expect a long stay on my return. As another matter, thou had I wait for a spell. I saw the rays replace the candlelight.'

'I apologise, Your--'

She kissed her, again, her own lips all numb and mush from last night, but that taste of saliva was waking.

'Also, take initiative of thine next time. All this interrupting must tire thee, surely.'

'Rissa.'

'Yes?'

'Those things you mentioned; you would never actually partake in them or force me into them, right?'

'Gerlis.' She clasped her neck. 'Does thou verily envision a single path on which I, Queen of Renait, Matriarch and Ruler, would allow myself or thee to be cloacally kissed or penetrated by a male and 'fertilized' as kine and degraded, made undignified? No. Dragonesses all be above such abasement in nature as much, if not more so than, as in civilisation, let alone us.'

***

'I'll do it.'

'Do you worry you're proving her right?'

'Why would you say that? Don't you need me to help you?'

'Yes, but I'm no less worried about this than you. If we do this, we do it because we must, and because doing anything else will means deaths for them all.'

He really did care.

'Take it.'