"Release me!" he roared, bellowed, thrashed. A great gout of flame ripped forth, but touched only open sky, as the greenskin handler brutes swiftly tugged and choked on the long pole hooks and ropes that wrapped about his throat and horns.

Rokeranon, red drake spawned of the famed eldwrym of Lund, powerful, mighty, with a heart of fire, was dragged like a recalcitrant beast towards the grey, monolithic building.

How dare they! How dare these pathetic mortal things lash and bind and believe to have captured him. Him! It was unthinkable! And they would pay, oh how he'd burn them once he was free!

"Fucker's a lively one, watch his tail Grungi!"

"I got 'em, I got 'em. Some fuck get the nose bag on 'em already!"

The pathetic brutes scurried about him like ants, the tallest of their number just barely reaching his dorsal spines, as they battled to hold down his might. The proud beast drew forth the flames again, and swept his head back and forth to shower them in a display of his wrath.

"Got 'em!"

A heavy sack, made of sodden, thick spun cloth, slammed about the red dragon's snout, dragging down on his long neck till his head was barely above the ground. When next Rokeranon drew breath to burn his assailants, he chocked. His nostrils flared, his vast mind stuttered, his eyes dilated, as he breathed in pure, unaltered, ripe, hen-scent. The scintillating, musky, spiced aroma, the same that had led him to land so close by, fogged all thought for valuable moments.

Long enough for the gang of orcs to drag him through the stable doors, and slam them shut behind him.

Within was a long hall of stalls, all built of stone, barely a scrap of anything flammable to be seen. The pungent stink of horse overcame the tempting pheromones of a dragoness in season, and let him blink through the breeding urge to see clear the dark stone walls, the iron hooks and hoops, the heavy chains, and the bars and bench set solidly at the centre of it all. Lining the walls, each small pen held a horse, who whickered in fright at the sudden intrusion of the mighty beast, and while he had no appreciation of them beyond a meal, an equestrian would have seen the pedigree of each of the mares arranged around them.

Struggling every step, the powerful drug numbing his thoughts, Rokeranon was dragged and shoved to the stand, forelimbs clamped into manacles and winched up to rest on a steel bar. His wings were corded about again and again in heavy hemp, hitched about the spines along his back, unable to do more than shake. Even his mighty tail, with its deadly tip, was lashed and threaded through a set of hoops on the floor, tied to each till it was still.

He managed a gout of fire, but the thick fabric about his maw was saturated, and impervious to his first blast. All the action served to do was fill his lungs once more with the breed scent, and flood his mind again with the tease of the blue hen he'd caught sight of beneath the clouds. Her rolling hide, her strong hips, the soft frill down her back.

Such thoughts held him till the last of his bonds were secured, and he was truly trussed and bound in a mockery of a mating pose. Foreclaws on the elevated bar, horns near enough touching the ceiling, stance wide, his fearsome "weapon"  unsheathed and ready to do battle with a favoured foe. And his mind, his mind filled with visions of the hen of his dreams, before him, smiling broadly in anticipation, languid against the stones. Almost as if, she was just out of reach.

Semalaria chuckled at the sight, reclining casually against the cool surface of the stable wall, a comfortable, cushioned bed, made up for her. The red drake clearly appreciated her bouquet, his pulsing, purple pike was already drooling a stream of clear arousal across the floor, where it ran in little streamers to a drain. It had such an effect on her, to see such draconic virility, so brutishly bound. Her vent wept more of her scent into the air, and her laughter sighed into a purr of enjoyment as she let herself wink for her audience.

"My, my," her voice was like her scales, cool and playful as a river, "what a sight you are. A mighty male, come to breed a clutch in a desperate little female, are we?"

Unable to help himself, the red beast growled in a mating call, and thrust his prick pointlessly into the air. The chains rattled, and the assembled hands of the stable stepped back in case their fastenings were not secure enough.

"Don't taunt 'em my lady," barked the lead orc about his tusks, "'es a wild'un, best we get a filly under 'em before he breaks somethin'."

"Oh, he will break something," Semalaria promised, and the way her voice rolled across his mind, had Rokeranon stir back to cogent thought for the seconds needed to appreciate the trap he had flown into.

"T-traitor temptress," he slurred, voice muffled in the bag about his mouth. "Mortal pet, pathetic whelp! Release me, or I'll devour your master and burn your cage to the ground!"

"Oh what proud words, from such a weak-minded fool," the blue she-wyrm laughed again, splaying back on her side, a rear leg tilted just thus to keep her snatch on display for the red dragon's wandering eyes. "No master for I, or rutting bull to tame me. But I cannot say the same for you. But do not fret, I know your new keeper likes his pets, entertained, and satisfied."

Bellowing yet more defiance, the crimson drake thrashed, and snapped and snarled. But every utterance of hatred, spite, rage, required yet another breath, another huff of primal fertility. It kept him blind to anything but his need and anger, while the first equine was led by her reigns to stand beneath the tethered dragon. Eyes blinkered, tail docked, her thickly darkened lips bathed the pulsing purple shaft in radiating heat.

Rokeranon didn't even notice his hips were rutting, seeking a needy hole to quench himself within, until a pair of humans had taken his member in hand and guided him to the animal below him.

"You expect... expect me to rut this beast!?" a snarling snap rang out, as his teeth began to work on the stinking sack about his features, now no longer aroused by it, but infuriated by having to wear a hen's musk about his maw as if he’d been marked.

Far from worried, the sapphire she-dragon rolled back on her rump, splayed open and naked before his attention. "Expect? Not in the least. I know you won't be able to help yourself."

As she spoke, the young men guided the dragon's hips into place, the tip of his purple-grey shaft rubbing up and down the horse's slit. The mare beneath Rokeranon snorted and pawed, her tail flagging, not fighting or worrying in the least as the frilled head kissed, and split, her opening.

A liquid welcome wrapped about the tip of the dragon's spear. Velvety, muscular, and easily accommodating to a presence such as his, the tightness and friction was a sudden, intense, pleasure that drove him to thrust, despite his repulsion at the very notion. He would be flaccid, his male-pride sheathed and hidden within his slit, if not for the overpowering aroma about his head, as the foul, deceiving, traitor-hen, displayed her sex to him, as if to say that is what he could have had, if not for the horse between his flanks.

It was a taunt that worked, the drake's mind too hazed by breeding lust, and the scent of a willing hen. With a growl, his hips bucked forward, and the long, fat, shaft slid into the willing slot.

"See, doesn't that feel good?" Semalaria cooed cruelly, every soft burr in her voice tinged by a cultured venom. "A warm, wet, welcoming hole for you to fuck, to force your young into. Isn't it just what you wanted?"

It wasn't. It wasn't even close. But the sensation was addictive, and the need to breed, to mate, was so deep, that the red drake couldn't stop himself. The nickering animal put up no protest as his hips bucked forward on an instinctual urge, the body so easily confused by what it was seeing, smelling, and feeling. The red's ridged head pressed through the entrance, and raked back and forth without conscious thought.

"Oh, that didn't take long at all," the sapphire serpent laughed, indulging in the sight, dipping two of her foreclaws within the molten pool of her own vent. "Just like all drakes, you are nothing but a desperate animal. A brute, with nothing but breeding on the mind."

Again, he growled defiantly, even as his hips were goaded into motion, the smooth silk of a sex too tempting to fully resist. "Never, never! You are the beast here, treacherous hen! Serving the lesser creatures! Submitting to them!"

A low laugh trickled through the stone hall, a vicious mockery, "Yet the only one here doing their bidding, is you, isn't it, bull. How does that lesser creature feel, wrapped about your little stick? Do you think you'll be able to resist giving her a foal? Giving your master, a new mount?"

In his shame, the crimson wyrm's face burned hot, his eyes glazing, the fury turning to something less potent. The scent of his temptress had his mind addled, his heart beating, his shaft throbbing, a gurgling croon of pleasure slipping his maw, as he sank to the hilt in the beast below. The horse took it like a true broodmare, her cunt clinging, her walls pliable, the flesh of her rump a fine substitute for his hips to strike.

Each thrust, each impact, made Rokeranon groan with sickening ecstasy, his male pride grinding back and forth, in and out of the equine beneath him. The sensation of a simmering, stewing, flexing tunnel, too much to resist. It was a mockery to him, a lessening, but the pleasure was far more intense than the vestige of his self-restraint, and he couldn't, wouldn't, deny himself.

"Look how well you fuck her," the blue dragoness hissed, a cruel, goading, tone as she watched his cock plunge, retreat, and advance again. "Such a potent male, forcing that wicked thing inside. Don't you love to ravage her? Doesn't it feel good, to make her take you, make her carry your load? Your clutch? She's such a willing Hen for you, go on, breed her, there's more to come after."

He had no defence, no way to hide how her honey-laced barbs affected him, his shaft pulsing, his tongue lapped inside the sack, as he took huffs to sink deeper into the illusion that it was a dragon he had mounted, he was mating with, and not a beast of burden. She laughed as his eyes glazed in lust, and the orcs, sensing their quarry was firmly captured, relaxed their grip on the ropes, and stood back to watch, as his first rut ended in a choked roar.

Rokeranon tried. He tried to pull free, to spark his resistance and disgust, but the fertile furnace about him, the dragoness taunting him with her claws sliding in her cunny, and his body’s unthinking need won out. His prick flexed, his hips jerked, and the equine shuddered as the thick seed pumped out. In moments the creature was inundated with a white tide of dragon cream, eagerly seeking any egg it could claim. And it no doubt would, a drake's virility was legendary, many from the lesser races having fallen prey to it. It was almost certain the tame, heat struck horse, would find herself with a foal growing in her belly.

"What a sight. You proud bull, coming undone, succumbing, to fucking a brood into a dumb beast," Semalaria grinned, flicking her lithe form upright once more to approach the groaning animal, and the horse it was riding. She prowled about the pair, her tail tickling his sides, her dirtied claw daubing his snout in fresh scent. Her yellow eyes roamed from him, to the attending hands. "Go fetch your master, he'll be no more trouble for us now."

"Are ya sure?" the lead handler grumbled, eyeing the red drake warily, his hand upon a whip on his belt, "could still be some fight left in 'em."

The blue dragon only laughed at the suggestion. "Certain. He will be far too busy with his next lover. He has a whole stable to stud, after all."

As the work gang took their leave, and the stable boys got to switching out the freshly seeded mare, Rokeranon rolled a heavy eye to his tormentor, some spite still lingering.

"Why not, slide yourself under while you're at it? I can smell it, taste it, you're dying to have a clutch. Well I can't fight you, go on, take your prize you bitch, I'll sate your hunger well. Perhaps enough to snap you out of this madness."

It was said with all the hate he could muster, but also in a hope she'd give in and truly give him what he wanted. But his enemy merely leaned close, and flicked his nose with her dribbling claw, a purring sneer spreading her maw, as the second horse was positioned beneath him, "You have no idea still, do you, beast?"

She ran her talons down his throat, to his belly, to his already stiffening prick. Her deadly claws knocked aside the worker's fingers, as she pumped the slime covered length. "Why would I ever lay, with a horse fucker, like you?" she sheathed him into his second filly, and all the red drake could do was groan in pleasured relief.

"No," she did not relent her bullying, "some of us Hens," the word crawled from her throat like a slur, "prefer a male that knows how to worship us," she let his spear loose, "that thinks of things other than fucking," she slapped his rump with her tail, jockeying him back into motion, "and breeding. But you're such a lucky drake," she stepped away, teasing him with a tail tip, her slit on full display, as she walked back to her comfortable perch, "there's a whole herd of submissive, breedable females here, who will never resist you, or ask anything of you. Truly, it's what you deserve. Now rut that horse, like the animal you are."

Rokeranon groaned, the scent about his snout was dizzying, and his loins boiled with the need to fuck. To impregnate a female, and his senses could no longer tell the difference between the scaled beauty in his eye, and the hair covered mare beneath his belly. He ploughed his new partner without a care, smacking into the wet and wanting sex as a steady stream of lust ran from their joining, hips jerking and pounding as instinct overruled disgust, overcame rage, and undermined reasoned thought.

The proud, noble, crimson drake, spent hours, humping mindless, inseminating the stock of equines trotted out before him, one after another. At some point the bag had been taken off, its work done, his snout thoroughly coated in feminine scent. He was aware of his prick’s true desire, always in the periphery, enjoying his degradation, talking to the lesser beings that came to watch, laughing at his plight. His eyes were locked to her, her perfect, shining, scales. Her wicked and vile smile as his strength faded, as potions were poured down his gullet to slake his thirst, and reinvigorate his ardour. Slowly, thought dimmed, one buck at a time, as his world focused down, became nothing but the sensations of breeding, of mating.

Once the light of intellect had left his mind, and his fires had been drowned in alchemy, Semalaria took her leave of the stone stable, with its new stallion safely installed.

"Once more you honour our bargain beautifully, your Ladyship."

Hurrying behind her tail, eager to make good on the deal that had kept him and his family among the wealthiest in the land, lord Tehanan bowed his head in deference to the great blue dragon. "And once more, you have done a service for our kingdom. The beast is captured, and will trouble us no more. He will sire enough foals for a legion of cavalry if he lasts as long as his predecessor."

The dragoness only nodded along from politeness, eyes already fixating on the bags of gold and treasures being brought before her. How many centuries had it been now, since she had made this deal with the long-lived fey lord? And how well had it kept her hoard replete with luxuries befitting her? Truly, it did not matter, she'd had her satisfaction once again. Except for an itch that still lingered.

"I care not, master elf. What you do with your animals is your own affair," she took each saddlebag as they came, and let them be draped across her back, eyeing the servants appreciatively, Tehanan knew what she liked. "Speaking of which, I will have, this one for myself. Its colour pleases me."

The young man, with fiery red hair, gave a squeal and a scramble as his master blithely nodded, and the greenskin handlers snatched him up, trussed, and presented him, even as his fellows fled in shock and panic. But it wouldn't matter. They, and any rumours they’d spread, would all be gone before the next time their master was in need of a stud, and the dragon in need of a plaything.

"Of course, milady. Till next we meet, and you grace us with your presence."

Semalaria rolled the weight of her trophies across her back and shoulders, before taking wing, a devilish smile on her maw, thinking of the pleasure she'd just had, and what she'd be having, back in her lair.