Blueberries's snuffie contest, part 3: lethal injections
#3 of Blueberries's Snuffie contest
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A cold spotlight glared down upon the bound figure in the execution chair, the sole source of light in the dark room. Bound into the chair with thick leather straps is a handsome, nude wolf. His head covered with a heavy black hood, his chest rising and falling steadily. His sheath plump, crimson arousal pressed up against a belly as he waits in that darkness for his life to be claimed. Behind the chair a pair of grand wings lay bound tightly to his back in black leather belts. The angelic wolf squirming slowly in the quietness, the scent of fear and arousal thick upon him as the executioner quietly steps forward.
The massive dragon flicks his tail, walking with a predator's quietness. The wolf's head shifts a little, covered ears faintly catching the click of talons on the hard floor as the dragon strides besides the helpless male. Towering over his prey even without the wolf bound to the chair, the green and blue dragon cuts a striking figure. A crimson red mane catches the light, a stripe of fur running down his neck to his tailtip and between the heavy scales of his back. The shimmering blue scales of his belly leads to the glistening arousal between his thighs, sheath full and balls heavy as the executioner quietly purrs as he examines the condemned. A taloned hand drawing across that panting chest, the wolf jerking against his bindings with a muffled whimper. The dragon presses a finger to that chest and listens to the fearful racing of the doomed wolf's heart for a moment, a quiet hiss of satisfaction.
There's a silent moment once that hand is drawn back, as the executioner takes his time in prepping the needle full of poison. The dark fluid visible in the spotlight's sterile gaze upon them, working with a graceful efficiency. Setting the prepped needle down carefully, he lifts a razor up, dwarfed in his large hands. The wolf gives a curious mumble, gagged under his mask as he feels an arm unstrapped. Then a gasp as the hand is rolled over to reveal the underside of his arm, the snug leather cinching up once more on a wrist. A plaintive whimpering soon escaping that hood as he feels the cold brush of a razor, clearing the thick fur in a patch upon the underside of his arm, just before the elbow. The pink flesh revealed in the bright glare of the lights above. A cold brush of cloth prepping the spot for injection as the wolf whines quietly in the sweet sterile scent of alcohol. The dragon rumbling pleased as a large dark vein makes itself visible for him under that smooth, clean flesh.
There's a quiet shifting as the dragon moves closer to the helpless wolf. Then a soft grunt as he leans himself in and settles his hips upon the startled victim's lap. A gasp as the slick lupine arousal is grasped by hot hands, drawing it back into the fine, scaly grasp of the dragon's rump. The larger male sitting himself on that lap with a leisure slowness, watching the way the wolf's wings twitch against their bindings uselessly. A rumbled purr of pleasure as his weight settles awkwardly in that lap, and the hot pinch of flesh sinking up into his rump. A wonderful chorus of whimpers and moans escaping that hood, awkward struggles and thrusts from the bound victim as he feels himself sink further into the tightness forced upon him. There's a firm kiss to his neck, eliciting a sharp whine as sensitive flesh is tickled. Then a sharp pinch in a forearm as a needle is pressed surely into a vein. The dragon hissing his pleasure as he kisses the hooded figure softly "Almost time... Just a last push, and then you'll soon be fluttering to heaven"
The stink of fear and arousal from that helpless male drives the dragon's lusts on, his slimy cock oozing pre upon the rising and falling chest and belly rubbing against it. Quiet, desperate whimpers faintly heard as the wolf grows as still as he can. That wonderful racing beat of a heart against the dragon's chest as he tastes death so close. Literally inches from death as the dragon grasps the large syringe carefully, breath puffing back and forth as he holds the wolf so close to the abyss. The heat pulsing in his rump slick and hot, feeling that arousal urgently throbbing as if begging for release before death. There's a slow, long kiss against the stained hood and gagged muzzle beneath, then the soft whisper seals the fate of the winged wolf below, "Goodnight."
The wolf tenses sharply as the plunger is pressed down, cold death flowing into the puling vein. The needle expertly extracted, just a faint drop of blood to show the deadly bite of the needle's poisonous embrace. Already the wolf begins to jerk and struggle, the poison leisurely making it's way through his body. Uncertain if the growing sharpness in his chest is his own fear or the deadly embrace of poison running through his chest. The thrashing grows as gagged cries for help fearfully whimper from the hood, as the dragon rides the bucking lap and stiffly rocking arousal. The chest beneath him starting to seize up as the poison begins to coldly squeeze that heart, making it strain and struggle to beat in it's viper embrace. A knot forming up against the base of that pounding arousal as the wolf feels the beginning of death stealing his heart beats as the poison goes to work. The lewd sound of his arousal sliding in and out of that tight rump faintly heard above the creaking of leather and whining cries of helpless death, all visible under that sharp glare of a spotlight, an intimate show for the two.
The racing beat of a heart dying grows erratic, drool starting to trickle onto the hood as a head dizzily rolls beneath it. The frantic struggles and jerks of hips growing to a more primal shudder as the wolf's heart begins to fail. The aching burn in a chest signaling his imminent death as every part of his body strains to fight it off. But the poison's fatal hold is too fare gone now to fight off. Desperately he begins to thrash, that knot popping in and out of the dragon's tight slit with a lewd slick sound each time, the intimate embrace and lustful grind of the dragon finally bringing it to a hopeless climax. A quiet roar of delight as that hot flush of cum fills his rump, the executioner holding his victim tight to feel the last flutters of life escape. The steady beat of a heart descended to an erratic jerking as that poisoned heart steadily dies in that embrace.
A quiet gurgle is barely heard as that head slumps forward against the dragon's shoulder. A faint throb of a heartbeat ending silently against the scaled chest of the executioner. The wolf's body grows heavy and slack beneath him, as life finally seeps from his broken body. Leaning his firm rump back, the dragon begins to stroke and masturbate on the dead wolf's lap. Feeling that arousal still stiff in death in his rump as he hisses and growls quietly. The tense struggles and rubs of two bellies upon that slimy penis already having driven him wild. It only takes a few moments longer of that slippery rhythm of masturbation to reach that peak of climax. Long ribbons of cum splashing forth upon that dark, stained mask and soft, white fur of the dead wolf's chest. Grunting and grinding on that stiff length as he drives that climax on to it's messy finale. Sticky semen oozing down the soft, limp fur beneath him as the dragon pants proudly in life, a satisfied huff as he feels that heat escaping the wolf he still rides. Slowly he leans back, admiring his handiwork with a soft lick of lips, taking in the bliss of afterglow and a job well done.
Tenderly he leans in and rests on that messy, seed splattered body he sits on. Feeling the heat slowly escaping into his scales and the cool air of the execution room. Eyes closed as he rides out his afterglow in bliss, thinking of how wonderfully soft the wolf's fur is now, and pondering perhaps where he might best use it's warmth. Most of all he thinks of how lovely this video will be once he can surprise the limp wolf whose lap he rests on with the tape the next time they meet Of course, he might demand the tables be turned next time. The dragon purrs at the thought, that might not be a bad thing at all in fact.