FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I am open for COMMISSIONS! If you want your own, personalized story, Click here

Want to help out this writer kitty? Then head over to my Patreon account by clicking here

Support a cheetah and get exciting(and erotic!) stories, breathtaking commissioned artwork featuring my characters, and an awful lot of fluffy hugs in return. If you want to know more about my Patreon initiative and why it's so important to me(and to the community as well!), check out my journal here : https://www.sofurry.com/view/938686

***This is a story for art type of trade did for my dear fluffy friend Malik***

Hello there. I have something very special in store for you. The tale of the wayward dragon is a small, illustrated story series that features a very dear dragoness character of mine, Rynthara, at a pivotal moment in her life. She's stubborn, antisocial, and more than a bit proud, but beneath under those dazzling feathers lies a creature eager to explore the more intimate pleasures the world has to offer...

Rynthara belongs to me, Cheetahs

Malik is herself: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/maliksr/

Cover art is done by The Owlette: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/theowlette

Tale of the Wayward Dragon, chapter 1: Initiatiation

A home. That was what Malik had called these ruins. An actual home.

Rynthara circled the tower, her silvery eyes shifting in their sockets, slitted pupils thin, her gaze sharp. This keep, outpost, tower, or however the humans down in the valley called it, might have housed their sentries, but its dilapidated looks hinted at the decades it had spent in utter abandonment.

A ruin with a roof, more like. A pile of rocks piled into a squat tower, overgrown with lichens and ivy that clung to its chipped rocks, its roof littered with holes, the wooden frames of the windows all but rotten.

Although the tower gave off the name of her so called home, Rynthara had never shown interest in it. The stone alcove that acted as a makeshift stables at its base made for a nice and comfortable nook to settle for the night. Now that she filled it with the furs of prey, it might even pass for a den.

But a home? Never.

Rynthara landed in the courtyard surrounded by tall palisade. It was spacious enough for a dragon her size to move around, the muddy paths that linked the decrepit shops and dwellings bearing only her paw marks. Humans... capable of building intricate structures, but still unable to keep dragons out of their fortifications. They had their gate, sure, but stuck as it was, it now served to keep both wildlife and other sapient races at bay.

In the end, an abandoned keep served a dragon's interests quite well. Especially the few huts and shops and smithy. Who knew humans could leave so many interesting things behind?

Malik, of course. If it wasn't for her and her visits, Rynthara wouldn't have decorated the walls of her den with tapestries, or repurpose the buckets and barrels from the smithy into water gathering recipients. A rain was all it took to fill them all, saving her a flight to the river.

Rynthara didn't know much about Malik. Only that she had two sets of wings, a golden ring with four sapphires worn on her right horn, a crescent-shaped mark on her forehead, and that she liked to talk big, bigger than she was, even. Her height matched Rynthara's, but when it came to instincts, ferocity and strength, Malik might as well have been compared to a puppy or kitten. Her neat, fine fur certainly gave off that appearance.

Malik...an oversized fluff ball who willingly spent her days with her human friends. She hunted for them, patrolled for them, even carried their whelps on her back from time to time. Rynthara snarled at the mere notion of allowing those furless creature to strap their contraption called a saddle onto her. Prey wore that, like horses or donkeys. Not her. Never her.

She stopped in the middle of the courtyard, staring down at her mud caked paws. Rynthara hated the rain, almost as much as she disliked those obnoxious sapient species. They always pretended to know better, even though they remained rooted to the ground for their entire short life, unable to soar, unable to fly over the mountains. They lived the lives of those dead people who wrote their precious books, and considered that enlightenment. Scribbles, on a sheet of vellum, actually held value to them. Bunch of simpletons...

A gust of wind blew from the east, the sky grey and dreary and heavy with clouds, the air laden with moisture. It would rain again; probably come nightfall. If the clouds kept weeping, not even the elevated portion of the ground upon which sat Rynthara's den might save it from the flood. That would certainly be her cue to leave, as there was nothing worse than a wet bedding to sleep on.

Sleep! That seemed like the thing to do. Her stomach protested at that notion after only three steps, growling like a ravenous beast. Hunger gnawed at Rynthara's belly, but pushing back that ache seemed favorable compared to a hunt in such dismal weather.

The faint beating of wings made her freeze in her tracks. She craned her lithe neck, ears perked, her limbs and wings taut. It might be Malik, or it might be a gryphon, or worse, a wyvern.

Her frame relaxed visibly when a speckle of white burst past the edge of Rynthara's vision. To land in such enclosed space, dragons had to perform loops around the palisade to lose speed, and Malik made quite the spectacular and abrupt descent. Mud splattered in all directions when she landed, further marring her already muddy belly and inner haunches.

Rynthara leaped away from Malik, her lips trembling to contain her snarl. "The tanner's shop is the place to land when it pours." She looked in its direction, an elevated square of dirt where debris used to be.

"That's not a shop. It's not even a building," Malik said, shaking her paws and wings in turn to get some mud off them.

"I made sure to clear it off and cut the walls clean using magic. It's a convenient platform to land, more useful than any of these ruined dwellings."

"Maybe if you would just allow...never mind," Malik said when Rynthara's growl interrupted her train of thought.

"I do mind. It's my keep now. My territory. My den. They abandoned it, and now that a dragon made its home here, they want it back."

Malik giggled in that infuriatingly musical way of hers. "You called it home."

"It's not home!" Rynthara snarled. "It's...a convenient term to describe a point of interest for me."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I'm more interested in the inhabitant of this keep, not in the ruins themselves." Malik began approaching Rynthara, but the violet dragoness backed away, flaring her tail fan, waving it from side to side to show Malik that she had no patience for company or word play. Not today. Not when her stomach growled, when mud weighed down her paws. She was hungry, and she felt filthy.

"Careful with that tail. It's dirty around here, and those colors are too beautiful to get stained." Malik stopped, her blue eyes dancing across Rynthara's body, admiring the blue and violet layers coloring her tail feathers, the weaving silvery patterns running along her body, the lavish feathers of her wings.

Rynthara's intricate color scheme always attracted the attention of every sapient species around these parts. Back in Nightblossom valley, Rynthara's patterns provided much needed camouflage. Here, they did the opposite, and Malik, although a dragoness herself, fell prey to her curiosity.

"Even if it gets stained, I've got you to clean it for me."

Rynthara's words put a smile on Malik's muzzle. "I prefer you eat first. This way, I can give you a thorough grooming after."

"I can lick myself just fine," Rynthara concluded, launching herself into the air, beating her wings frantically against the stubborn currents that tried to bring her down. "Show me where."

Once upon a time, Rynthara would have argued about the free meals Malik hunted for her. It didn't befit a dragon, for another to supply their meal, but Malik's stubbornness chewed right through Rynthara's conviction.

And, on a weather like this, saying no to a juicy doe or buck seemed like the stupidest thing to do.

Malik led Rynthara past the top of a bald hill, into a silent glade secluded from the fierce winds, a doe placed on a patch of moss, its neck punctured by several fang marks.

"It's grassy here, so I thought it's as good a place as any," Malik said.

Rynthara looked around the small clearing, breathing in the humid, stale air. Ferns and bushels surrounded it, and birds perched atop the dripping branches, singing their strident songs. Here in the highlands, the small creatures didn't fear dragons. They knew better than expect huge, lumbering beasts like them to put effort into snapping their jaws around a tidbit of bones and feathers. Even hatchlings preferred squirrels and ground hogs to those pesky and agile feathers.

Malik scouted around for clumps of grass and broad leaves to grab and clean her paws with the help of her opposable digits. Rynthara watched her for a few moments, lifting one of her forepaws to compare her small, stubby toes to her slender ones.

Her paws resemble hands. No wonder she has an easy time among humans. Can probably sit at tables and play their ridiculous coin games too, Rynthara thought, settling her attention on her meal.

"Haunches, organs, ribs? What do you prefer?"

"All yours. I ate my fill a few hours ago," Malik responded.

Rynthara licked her snout, as if to block the acidic remark from sailing past her fangs. What sort of dragon ate the food humans supplied?!

A tame, fluffy one of course. One that found them fascinating enough to linger around their encampment day and night. Malik even admitted that she allowed them to bathe her! As if her own tongue wasn't good enough for it!

Rather than dwell on it, Rynthara put that matter to rest, settling on her belly in front of the carcass, unsheathing her claws, and cutting a clean line through its hide. That done, she sneaked her claws through the cut, hooked them around the hide, and clawed with her other paw at the strings of fat keeping the hide glued to the doe, skinning it with practiced efficiency.

"What about magic?" Malik suggested. She laid down on her side, fistfuls of torn grass clutched into her forepaws, sliding them along her hinds to scoop off the mood sticking to her paws and paw pads.

"I'm still trying to figure it out. Better to take it slow than make a carcass explode."

Malik laughed at that, but Rynthara kept her silvery gaze on the doe, her claws slicing and tearing. "Afraid to get messy, my love? I'll clean you. Every strand of fur, every paw pad, every feather."

That sounded like an enticing offer, especially when delivered by a fellow female. With males, things were bound to escalate. A nuzzle became a lick; a lick turned to tongue strokes, and these had the habit of starting from the top and ending between Rynthara's haunches.

She shuddered at the memory of the first time that happened. Her first heat addled her mind, to the point where she dropped her guard and allowed a desperate male to slurp her soppy cunt, just to have her itch satisfied.

Of course the fool didn't stop at that. He had expected more, while Rynthara wanted one very simple and innocent thing of him. Males...

"Thought you're ravenous for meat. Your stomach is loud enough to scare the birds. What are you thinking about?"

Rynthara finished skinning the doe, the scent of blood tugging at her instincts, begging her to sate her hunger. Instead, she swallowed emptily and curled her head back towards Malik, who pawed at her twitching tail tip.

"My first heat, the mistakes I did, and the lessons I learned from it."

At least Malik had the courtesy not to pursue that topic, so Rynthara tucked into her meal, feasting on the savory meat of the doe, slurping the excess blood, chewing on the heart and liver slowly to enjoy their exquisite taste.

Everything tasted and felt better when alone. Although her instincts had threatened to overwhelm Rynthara, her willpower suppressed them enough to go through that confusing stage of her life without a heavy belly. But what if...

No. Don't even think of it, she stopped that thought before taking roots. Hatchlings meant responsibilities, and responsibilities allowed no room for travel. Sure, Rynthara didn't have the slightest clue why she traveled, but she expected to find the answer along the way.

She pondered on this matter while munching on the doe's soft meat, eating everything but the intestines, stomach, and other gross parts. Blood stained and trickled down her muzzle. It coated her paws, seeped into the silver fur lining the crevices between her purple pads, turning it a rich shade of crimson.

She poked her tongue out to lick it...

And tensed up when Malik's voice snapped her back to awareness. "No no, that's my task. My meal, my rules."

Rynthara narrowed her eyes, a smoldering growl igniting within the back of her throat.

Malik remained unfazed, staring at Rynthara with the same intensity, until the latter released a drawn-out sigh, rolled onto her back where Malik previously stood, and presented her paws and belly to her.

"I even dried the grass for you."

"Muddied it, more like," Rynthara retorted, but Malik remained as happy and carefree as ever, her forked tongue dancing over Rynthara's muzzle, lapping at the blood trapped into her fur.

"The mud on my chest and belly hardened, so your back and wings will remain pristine. If not, I'll see to that, darling."

Rynthara growled, hiss, squeaked and mewled in her guttural way, turning her head from side to side, guided by Malik's nimble tongue. Moist, heated warmth assaulted Rynthara's snout, bathing it with the same diligence of a mother or father. Malik even insisted on Rynthara's nostrils, her tongue tips delving an inch inside, making the dragoness snort in quite the audible fashion.

"MRarrr! You're such a hatchling!" Rynthara snapped, her wrinkled lips draping over her exposed fangs a few seconds later, a mellow hum replacing her seething growl.

"Who is the hatchling now?" Malik teased, bathing Rynthara's violet paw pads with long, careful licks. "You're an adult. You've been through your first heat. You aren't allowed to enjoy such juvenile display of affection."

"Then feel free to stop. I'm not rude enough to deny you this guilty pleasure, not after you went through the trouble of hunting for me."

"Guilty pleasure? For you or for me?"

Before Rynthara had the chance to reply, Malik lowered her snout upon her chest, dragging it through her fur, nipping and licking at the short strands. Rynthara closed her eyes, spreading her haunches far to the sides, her purr growing louder by the second. Tingles slithered through her furred hide, summoned by Malik's tantalizing touch, making her muscles tighten and her vent shudder.

Her eyes snapped open when pleasurable heat blossomed within her femininity, searching for Malik's warm, cerulean gaze. She opened her maw, ready to growl a warning to Malik to stray away from her slit, but the dragoness' snout already rolled through the soft, silken fur covering Rynthara's inner haunch, up to her splayed toes.

"Mrrrrrrrrrrrr," Rynthara's low, soothing growl rumbled in her chest as Malik embraced her paw in that slick, hot embrace, her tongue coiling around it, applying a gentle squeeze to her smooth, soft pads. If that got Rynthara purring like a kitten, the licks that followed had her twitching and squirming with glee, her toes clenching and spreading, coaxed by the gentle touch of that blissful tongue.

"You should...return to my neck...and there's my left forepaw and hind left for....hrrrrrmmmmmmmmm."

Malik didn't reply. She understood the pleasure Rynthara extracted from having her sensitive pads tended, and she knew exactly how to give Rynthara a good time. First, she switched her attention to each bean-shaped toe, surrounding each of them in the warmth confines of her tongue, dragging them halfway into her maw to suckle on them.

Rynthara sucked in a deep breath, rocking gently on the ground, her toes curling inwards and relaxing, groping at the air, begging for attention. Being the only area of her body devoid of fur, aside from her sex, her paw pads had a great sensitiveness to them, and the longer Malik smothered them with liquid affection, the hotter Rynthara's sex felt, until tender throbs began rippling through her underbelly, converging upon her pussy.

Her mind turned foggy, her tail began swishing, and her tongue kept rolling around her muzzle, licking idly while all of her focus poured into the erotic slurps along her moist, glistening paw pads.

Why did it feel so good? Her own licks never summoned such overpowering euphoria; they never made her purr rise and fall like the gentle murmur of a river. Malik's forked tongue caressed her like no being ever did, and when her lips encircled her big, central pad to suckle on it, Rynthara couldn't help but yelp and kick Malik softly in the snout, her whole frame shivering from the sudden wave of euphoria brought by her fangs softly prickling her paw pad.

For a moment, Rynthara remained limp, staring at Malik while the white furred dragoness had her gaze fixated on Rynthara's sex.

She was wet, wasn't she?

A pang of terror raced down Rynthara's spine, cold shivers replacing the warm ones from before. She jumped onto her fours, wincing from how sensitive her clean pads felt upon the ground. Malik placed a paw on Rynthara's rump, growling her confusion, but the violet dragoness threw her a brief glance and said, "I need a moment to myself. I'll be back shortly. Don't follow."

Malik didn't follow. As a female, she had every right to accompany Rynthara, perhaps make herself useful, but she didn't.

That added another layer of confusion to Rynthara's already whirling thoughts. In a way, she wanted to play hard to get; to test Malik's conviction at going all the way with her ministrations and prove to Rynthara that she genuinely wanted to give her relief, rather than indulge her own curiosity.

On the other paw, her rational side sent a dozen warning signals through Rynthara, all related to her wetness. It happened too fast, too sudden, with a dragoness she knew too little about to allow her to tend to her very sex.

This perplexed Rynthara greatly. Malik was a dragoness herself. She had a pussy as well, and had been through at least a heat cycle herself. Maybe it was her friendly nature or her eagerness, but for some reason, Rynthara couldn't shake off Malik's intense gaze from her mind, that hunger within her eyes.

She lusted for Rynthara, more than any dragoness had the right to.

***END OF CHAPTER 1***

I really love how thorough dragons are when it comes to grooming. It always opens lots of wonderful possibilities.

Here's to hoping you awesome readers enjoyed this one as much as I did. Make the kitteh happy by commenting, fav-ing, and voting! I'll be so, so happy if you follow this three steps procedure ^^

You know what else makes this kitty extremely happy? The increasingly bigger crowd of people who are Supporting me on Patreon. Not only do you support my creative endeavors, but your money also helps me buy quality artworks of the characters you get to read about. To support me, simply head over to this link and choose your pledge level:

If you want to know more about my Patreon initiative and why it's so important to me(and to the community as well!), check out my journal here:

https://www.sofurry.com/view/938686

If you're interested in a story shaped to match your own tastes and interests, Click here to commission me and start your own adventure.