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This is a graphically sexual roleplay between Timanth and myself, featuring Timanth the dragon and a dominant female deinonychus named Skewer.
To cut a long story short, Timanth is summoned to a steamy bathhouse in the Mayan-style raptor city that is his home, where he undergoes all manner of seductive ministrations under the talons of Skewer.
And to bloat a short story long:
The imposing hunter caste guard does eventually step aside and let Timanth through the doorway, but on his way through, the dragon finds his tail thumped down under a big, firm sickle toe and a meaningful smile curling the lips of the 7-foot, ebony-scaled theropod, his eyes glittering with you-know-I-could-if-I-wanted-to. But after a snarled protestation from the smaller reptile, sense seems to get the better of him and he shrugs, letting Timanth's tail slide out from under his impressive killing digit. Quite aside from the well-circled rumors about Timanth's shaman skills and his prowess with a blade, there can be only very few raptors left in the inner circles of the tropical city who have yet to learn the identity of the dragon's master. Coolly lit by sunlight filtering through the aquamarine crystals that block every window, the bathing chamber feels somehow secluded from the bustle and heat of the temple district outside. Skewer's sleek head doesn't even make a ripple as it emerges from the pool, her forest-green snout and yellow eyes rising silently above the surface of the steaming water. For a while she is still, listening to the approaching footsteps, then a sly smile spreads across her reptilian features and she swims fluidly toward the shallow steps. Her head, back and tail break the pool's surface in a distinctly crocodilian manner as she swims. "Ah, there," she slyly intones as Timanth pushes underneath the doorflap of finely-woven compy skins and enters the bathing chamber. "I'd almost started to wonder if our good chieftain hadn't decided to keep you to himself this afternoon. Come inside. I hope your hide is as smooth as I remember it."
Timanth bows to the hunter caste, eyeing the large raptor with his pupilless eyes. Ah, the joys of having emotionless eyes if one chose to. "I insist, lady Skewer is waiting for me presently," he says from his bowed position. With a last growl, the guard steps aside, admitting the copper dragon through. But on his way in, he's stopped by a thick sickle toe upon his tail, causing him to wince and hiss out almost dangerously back at the hunter caste. Despite his bravado, the largest raptors in the city still caused no small amount of terror in him, mostly due to their ability to crush him even more thoroughly than Dras, the large raptors being almost twice the drake's size. But he knows who his master is, and so, apparently, does the guard. "I got a job for ya little guy," the azure chieftain of this raptorian city had said from his sprawled position on the floor. "I owe Skewer a favor, so I'm gonna send you out to be her dragontoy for the day. And don't forget to make it back in time for our evening session," He'd continued, purposefully splaying out his sleek, powerful digits as he did so. Shuddering with a combination of anticipation and lust, he passed the guard, still almost fascinated by his conversion by the blue deinonychus' hindpaws. Curling his tail almost conscientiously around himself, he continues forward, admiring the soft blue light streaming in from the windows, steam slowly rising up from the bathing pools. He noses his way under the doorflap, and stands still, looking around for signs of the emerald raptor. But the bronze drake only notices Skewer at the last moment as she breaks the water near the steps at the edge of one pool. Padding over to the water's edge, he bows, "Greetings, my lady. You are as beautiful and stealthy as ever."
"Flattering dragon," Skewer praises softly, hissing the words barely above the sound of the steam. "A very promising start, I daresay. Lie down there," she adds, climbing suddenly up out of the water and pointing her taloned finger to indicate a slightly raised platform of smooth rock by the edge of the chamber's big central bath. "I want to ssstep on you while my pads are still steaming." The sleek raptor all but purrs the words, pupils dilated and eyes half-lidded; she is clearly very aroused. "On your back," she adds, climbing up out of the water and stretching her lithe, keenly muscled hindlimbs out behind her. "Close your eyes and don't open them unless I tell you. I'm going to tread on you," she breathes. "But I won't do you any harm if you obey me. Do you understand?" A pause, an answering nod, then finally Skewer steps up onto the flagstones alongside Timanth. "Stalkers are lighter than the other castes," she explains seductively, slowly circling the platform where he lies. "We're agile. Controlled. Dexterous. Where other raptors have to use their foreclaws, a stalker will be dexterous enough to use her talons. Just as the gods intended." Her footsteps make quiet, wet slapping sounds as she steps down and water drips conspicuously in her wake, all muted by the low hissing of steam. "We kill with them..." The soft, firm footsteps come to an ominous halt alongside Timanth's right ear. "... and We caress with them." An intense heat radiates against the side of the dragon's muzzle, then a sharp sear of bristling sensation snakes down his spine as she gently touches the hot pad of a sickle toe against one of his whiskery tendrils and delicately brushes down its length. "Have you ever been under the feet of a stalker before, little winged one?" She drops her sly voice to a whisper, plying a tiny squeeze of pressure to the very tip of the fleshy whisker as she hisses, "'Trampled' hardly begins to do it justice..."
Timanth bobs his head in acknowledgment of the compliment, looking along her finger to see the raised slab of stone. The copper dragon hesitates a little, wondering if the emerald raptoress intends to trample him into pulp, as so many of the populate seem interested in doing. He is a little bit comforted by her reassurances, but the dripping arousal in her voice leaves him wondering if she will really have as much control in this state as she claims to have. But still, what choice does he have? Nodding assent, he pads over to the platform and lifts himself onto it, rolling onto his back, his wingspines comfortably tucked away beneath him. After some hesitation, his eyes close, the only senses available to him now being sound, scent, taste...and touch. Her voice is barely above a whisper, the seductive purr sending shivers down the bronze drake's spine. He dares not to talk, and even barely to breathe as he listens to her drawing closer, her green form half-shrouded by the steam rising up from the pools. As she speaks of assassination, he shivers again, knowing very well what an experienced stalker could do with her hindpaws. He'd felt firsthand the product of the intensive training that they surely went through. And suddenly, warmth which quickly escalates into an intense, but not unpleasant, searing that surges down his body, causing him to gasp out with surprise, the question rising unbidden from his throat, "How did you...?" Had she really figured out his anatomy so quickly? How could she know that his whiskers were among the most sensitive parts of his body. The dragon lets out another gasp as she squeezes the tip of his whisker, causing his body to spasm involuntarily, "No, my lady...I have not had the honor..." And yet, a deep apprehension fills him. How could it not, when he had seen this very raptor stop a creature's heart with a few light taps to various portions of its body?
"But you have such an unusual body," the raptor continues more loudly, displacing a gust of warm air as she lifts her foot away from Timanth's tingling flesh to continue circling. "And I understand it has unusual properties - particularly those relating to its pliability. Open your eyes." Skewer waits for the dragon to react to the presence of her sleek, firm talon held a few inches above his head, and begin to dutifully lick its handsomely padded sole, before she continues, "Don't worry; I'm not interested in squashing you. I hear you've already experienced quite a lot of that under the feet of your master." She smiles down at the prone dragon behind her splayed, steely-powerful toes. "But your pliability does interest me for other reasons. There are certain... places... inside the bodies of my victims that I like to feel against my soles, and between my toes. Parts of the body that gurgle and slide where the warmth of life oozes into my pads and flows up into my veins. Do you understand this?" She lowers her well-licked sole from Timanth's muzzle and eyes the dragon briefly before stepping down beside him and lifting her other foot for him to lick. "Now of course, I could simply open up my victims and acquaint my talons with their innards - in fact several have passed on this way, torn open down the middle and watching helplessly while my talons step inside and empty them out - but I always find it lacks finesse. I prefer to feel the life of another creature pulsing around my feet, its warmth sinking into them, its contortions massaging them. You'll appreciate that to kill a victim with one's feet is no great achievement for a raptor, yes? But to penetrate and inhabit one's victim while it still lives..." She gives a long, sighing hiss, eyes drooping as she almost instinctively pushes her padded sole to Timanth's face and begins to warmly rub. "So you can imagine why your rumored pliability interests me. Perhaps I can coax it out of you with a little heat and pressure, hmmm?"
Timanth almost lets out an audible gasp as that sickle toe lifts away, the cooler air of the bathhouse rushing in to fill the space left. Compared with the hot, steamy sensation of Skewer's toe, the heated air almost seemed cool. At Skewer's command, he opens his eyes, and is greeted with the sight of a pitch black footpad, held just inches above his muzzle. He knows what she wants; this position is familiar, something that he has come to know not as threatening but desiring of servicing. Acquiescing, he raises his muzzle and begins to nuzzle into the female raptor's walking section, his tongue slipping out to lick slowly at the hot flesh. It is still wet, her scales glistening with water even as his slightly raspy tongue slides over them, replacing the water with his saliva, his tongue tracing deftly into the cleft in her leathery ballpad. It does not take him long to go over the entirety of her foot at least once, his long tongue even curling around her toes and stroking softly along their lengths. Truly, the stalker-caste was smaller, although there was no doubting that they held a deadly power, perhaps even more so than the hunters. And her foot, no matter what the size, was still perfectly formed, sleek talons draping over his muzzle as he nuzzled and licked into her hindpaw. As she switches her feet, he can't help but let out a shudder; he knows exactly what she means, and it chills him, his azure eyes rising up to meet those of the emerald raptoress. Here is a raptor that could slit his belly open with the finesse of a surgeon's scalpel, and still retain enough control to step into his guts, slowly trampling and twisting while his life wasted away. But he dutifully begins to nuzzle and lick at her other foot, although it is quickly replaced with her own motions over his snout, his tongue being dragged back and forth as she begins to rub, her pad feeling hot against his leathery hide. "I can understand that, my lady," he breathes, muffled beneath her stroking hindfoot, each motion sending jolts down his body, through his cloaca, "And I doubt it will take much...coaxing...as you put it. I am to serve you, after all."
"You are," she smiles, sickle toe curling down to press upon his lips while her longer outer digits drape over his cheek. "And I hear no misgivings in your voice - how interesting." The looming raptoress waits for Timanth to kiss her warm killing digit before continuing, "Often one such as yourself, having undergone a forceful and rapid conversion against his will, will only bond with the raptor who converted him; to then be put under the feet of a different raptor can evoke those same base, animal feelings of suffering and humiliation that conversion aims to banish." She releases her hold upon Timanth's muzzle and pushes her heated foot pads to his neck instead. "Breathe normally," she commands, eyes narrowing as she feels for the dragon's pulse. "But there is no deception in you, little winged one. Your body betrays your thoughts, and I find them pleasing." The big, sleek talon slides slowly up Timanth's throat, supple, strong toes curling over the curves of his skull as it moves to cover the dragon's face in a manner both possessive and seductive. "I often underestimate the alpha caste," she hisses, a subtle flexing of her toes causing her broad ball pad to stretch and deform oddly against the dragons earhole. "They may be large and overconfident, but they are capable of deploying great agility when they choose to. You must pass on my compliments to Facedancer when you return to him - his work upon you has been pleasingly thorough." Her yellow eyes roam over the meager portions of the small bronze muzzle that protrudes from under her sleek stalker foot, and a leisurely smile curls her reptilian lips as she breathes, "Ah, there..."
A tiny crick in the side of Timanth's skull and a light, involuntary flinch from the dragon happen simultaneously as the ball of the agile theropod's foot twists, spreading slightly against him, and a sudden wave of loud, crisp sound bursts through Timanth: The pulsing of blood through Skewer's dilated veins as she holds his head underfoot, the minute creaks and rasps of her thick pad flesh stretching and her scales deforming against him, the bass rumble of water rolling through the rock floor of the chamber, and loudest of all, the purr of the aroused raptor, flowing easily through her hot black foot pads, seeping down behind Timanth's covered eyes and conducting her lusty pleasure deep into his very mind. "I think I know your body well enough to begin," the raptor intones, her amused voice coming not from the air, but booming bassily down into his skull through the sleek digitigrade foot splayed over it. "Perhaps a quick trample massage to soften you up?"
Timanth lets out a soft purr, quickly repressed along with the brief surge of arousal, as the sickle toe pressed down against his lips, the copper dragon quick to nuzzle back against the ebony toepad, his tongue snaking out once more to gently caress the leathery flesh. To be honest with himself, he finds Skewer perhaps the most alluring and beautiful of all the raptors he has personally met. Despite her smaller size than the others, she still maintains a sense of power around her, almost compact in its nature. And that aura was not just for show, either; in the one time Timanth had met her previously, she had shown extraordinary command of her own body as well as over those of others, and the sensual sway of her body, along with the almost deliberate way her hindpaws shifted and splayed, had never completely left his thoughts. "But my lady....ahhhhh," he pauses a moment to pant lightly, his warm breath adding to the steam condensation upon her sleek green talons as he gathers control of his body, "What master Dras performed was no ordinary conversion, or so he has told me." He ceases to talk, his breath catching nervously as he feels the dense muscle behind those splaying, gracefully draping toes come to rest upon his throat, but at the raptoress' instruction the bronze dragon begins to breathe again, his lungs taking in the warm wet air of the bathhouse. His eyes widen at her comment; she could sense a lie just from his neck pulse...? "I find them pleasing." Those words send shivers up the dragon's body, even moreso than that stroking, caressing sole sliding up his neck and settling down to cover most of his face underneath it. As the emerald female muses on the dexterity of the alpha caste, the drake shifts a little underneath Skewer's foot, feeling the odd sensation of being able to hear clearly out of neither ears, thick padflesh pressed against once while the stone table muffles sound in the other. "I shall, my lady," he answers, hearing just enough to get the gist of what she's saying.
But he's about to get a much better audio signal. With a sudden snick in his skull that makes the copper dragon concerned for his well-being, an veritable explosion of sound rumbles through his eardrums, causing his body to spasm once in sudden shock; the rushing of her pulse, the thunder of the baths, the rustling and rasping of her scales, and most noticeable of all the deep, rumbling purr of the beautiful green raptoress as she enjoyed her dominance of his face, the very sound penetrating through her toes from wherever they covered his muzzle into his very mind himself. He is not surprised by this sudden influx of sound; he knows the technique well, and has used it many a time to heighten his senses, in essence making his skull a receptor for sounds, causing it to vibrate with unusually amplified frequencies to the slightest noise. What shocks, and injects a deep sense of awe for the forest-green raptoress in him is the fact that she has only met him one other time and yet in a matter of seconds has figured out the correct muscles, nerve endings, and bones to slide, press, and grind against to produce this effect. And what he normally has to do with the aid of at least one forepaw she accomplishes as easily as a twist of her ballpad. She holds even more power over him than he thought, and the sheer knowledge is enough to send a small shudder of intimidation through his body even as her words thunder through his skull. He has never had sounds so close to him while he had the effect triggered; the sensation is not unpleasant, but leaves his head ringing with the sound for moments afterward, and it was awhile before he can reply, "As you wish, my lady." A small spark of anticipation, and apprehension, shoots through him. He has heard from Dras about the trample massages of the stalker-caste raptors, but he has no idea what such a working would do to one as small as he.
Skewer dips her head and glances downward, not having expected a response. Even with his eyes buried under her firm black foot pads, Timanth is somehow made aware of the amused smile that tugs at the raptoress' scaly jawline. "How generous of you," she says, her sly tone of voice and the subtle, possessive splaying of her long toes over his head making it absolutely clear that she would have gone ahead with or without permission. Her pads disengage reluctantly, pulling slowly and deliberately from the dragon's flesh as the sleek theropod lifts her foot, and she firmly deploys it to coax Timanth onto his front.
"Good," she says, pushing her generous sole between the dragon's folded wings and putting pressure on the small of his back. "Spread your wings apart, and tell me if you experience severe discomfort." The weight of the larger reptile flows smoothly onto Timanth, pushing his breath out until a second expanse of warm pad flesh spreads out over his upper spine and the pressure evens out. "Facedancer has made me aware of your weaknesses," she purrs, standing fully on top of the dragon, eyes half-lidded and creamy with arousal. "And I intend to fully exploit them. However, you might find yourself a little... overwhelmed. If you think you're about to lose consciousness, tell me straight away - I hate having to stop and revive my victims in the middle of a session. Do you understand?"
Presently, a firm, warm treading begins at the base of Timanth's spine: sleek, skillful stalker feet beginning their ministrations with effortless confidence. The heated soles position themselves tightly side-by-side and simply knead the lower back of the sprawled dragon with a steady, rhythmic trampling. "Close your eyes," Skewer instructs from somewhere high above, her seductive voice almost lost in the hiss of the steam. "Concentrate only on my words and the feeling of my soles. Imagine you are a compy under the pads of a rex," she purrs, swaying nimbly from side to side as she treads. "I have that much power over you; your body is mine to control and your mind is just an extension of that body. I can manipulate your mind as the rex manipulates her compy. I can cover you, bury you, conceal and restrain you. I can turn you into liquid and nourish the flesh of my pads with your essence, or stroke pleasure into the deepest recesses of your body until you are saturated with it - full and soft, like a ripened seedpod under my pads."
The copper dragon knows that well, but his sense of pride keeps him talking, although Skewer's smug, amused expression, unseen but more felt, presses that pride back into his body and seals it in with a smothering, black solepad. He pants slowly as the foot lifts, the sensation of the steamy air suddenly hitting his cheek cooler than the hot, wet walking section covering it before. Sensing what she wants as the emerald raptoress easily presses against his side, levering her toes underneath his body, the copper dragon obediently rolls over onto his front side, feeling the hard stone of the platform against his chest and belly. He cannot answer once she places one hindpaw between his wings, the feeling of the compact, solid mass of her foot stilling his body. She now holds utter control over his being, and can end his life with simple motions; her ballpad rests directly over where his spine resides, and beneath that, his heart, pulsing with the lifeblood of his essence. Of course, if he were killed, he would revive and reform again; such is his gift...and his curse. It meant that, once all the raptors discovered his unusual trait, there were no compunctions about trampling him into a deep smear on the pavement.
Spreading his wings wide and preparing himself for the inevitable surge of weight, he still cannot suppress the heavy gust of air pressed out of his lungs as the emerald raptoress momentarily stands with one foot planted upon him, all her weight set upon his back before her other paw descends, the pressure evening over his entire body, her spread soles covering the majority of the bronze dragon's body. But at least he can breathe again, and he sucks in a deep mouthful of the humid bathhouse air. The purrs of the deinonychus reverberate down into his body, and he can do ought but nod once more, his breathing light and fast, all he can manage with the full weight of Skewer upon his body. Victim...he surmises that this will not be one of the massages that the stalker-caste bestows upon the larger raptors, and the drake braces himself.
Obeying her instructions, he lets his azure orbs lid, his vision going dark as he focuses on the raptoress treading upon his back, her agile, powerful hindpaws beginning to slowly lift and fall, her body swaying as she gently presses her talons deep into his back. The copper dragon's leathery hide deforms and bulges slightly against her ministrations, bunching around her soles and creeping up between her digits. Her words only serve to cause another shudder through him, for he knows it is true. His pawlust and her sheer control over his body makes his mind a slave to her. He lets out a soft groan as he feels his muscles slowly being kneaded into laxness, his lower back seeming to lose all tension and feeling as her deep black pads massage and plunge deep into his flesh.
The heavy reptilian feet sidestep fluidly, moving further up Timanth's spine to expose the raw, tingling hide of his lower back to the steamy air. As she treads down and evens out her weight, several dull cracks issue forth from the dragon's protesting spine, but Skewer doesn't react so much as an atom's width and instead continues to pour seductive words upon her subject. Her tone of voice has deepened subtly, the soft rumble of a purr underlying every vocalization she makes while the occasional hisses of her words become sharp and crisp as fine glass, all creating a stark contrast between hisses and rumbles that make her voice both exhausting and fascinating to listen to. While she speaks, her warm, black soles continue to knead and tread upon the middle of Timanth's back, covering a generous length of his spine and stretching to comfortably engulf his width under their padded lengths. Whenever she steps down, the agile raptor spreads out her powerful clawed toes, stretching the bronze hide beneath them taut, only to fold and crease it as she draws her lengthy digits back together when stepping up.
Over and over the sleek, scaled feet tread upon Timanth, working warm, firm exertion deep down into his back and seeming almost to warm him from the inside out. Whenever they pull up from one portion of the dragon's back and move to another, his muscles are left sore and aching in an oddly wholesome manner, thoroughly exerted and flaccid, and his nerves are almost stinging with the intense stretching and compression of his own hide. As she finally finishes crunching his shoulders into limp relaxation, the lusty stalker neatly settles a padded talon over the back of Timanth's neck and begins to very slowly and forcibly rub, squeezing still more muffled cricks and cracks from the vertebrae of the smaller reptile. "Don't try to move," she purrs down at him as a muscular spasm throbs through the dragon's limbs. "I'm putting your muscles to sleep so we can proceed without those pesky reflexes getting in the way." Another dull crack and the raptoress growls in pleasure. "Your body," she explains, "will try to keep you safe by recoiling from sensations above a certain level of intensity." The warm, heavy soles neatly turn about, treading here and there, then they begin rubbing alternately down into the small of Timanth's back, plying slow, firm strokes of pressure that ease the tingling from his hide and leave long trails of deep, lethargic heat inside him. "But I suspect we'll find your body is capable of handling far more intense sensations than it prefers to - once these muscles are dealt with. Don't worry," she adds, grinding the padded ball of her talon deep into Timanth's shoulders until his knuckles unclench. "I won't paralyze anything you might need later."
Timanth can't help but let out a slow groan of protest both at the crackling sensations issuing forth from within his upper back and the light, tingling feeling left by the ebony-padded feet on his lower body. He feels the pinpricks and needles of fire licking at that area, and sounds of protest are drawn involuntarily from his body at the discomfort. But the emerald raptoress treading upon him does not so much as bat an eyelid at his apparent pain and continues onwards, her hissing, purring words raining down upon the copper dragon, pressing what remains of his pride into the hard slab of stone he lies on. The different layers that her trained voice possesses is at first awe-striking, then exhausting, to listen to, and after awhile the copper drake is unable to continue processing all the nuances, the aroused subtext, the teasing remarks that Skewer rains down upon him. The fire spreads, moving up to his middle back, a slow smoldering that causes his muscles to want to jump and spasm if it weren't for the completely immobilizing effect of the green deinonychus' administrations, her dextrous toes squeezing his flesh together, only countered by the spreading of her ballpads stretching his hide thin. He feels heavily sore in a very warm kind of way, almost as if he has been doing continuous exercise without actually moving any part of his body. It is an intensely interesting sensation, and he might appreciate it more were it not for the emerald female upon his body. She is lighter than Dras by far, but she is still larger than him, and has the weight to match. Breathing is difficult for the copper dragon, especially as she begins to move upwards and starts to compress his chest through his back.
When she finally reaches his shoulders, the copper dragon's body has been reduced to a limp mass. Under her careful and precise treading, his muscles have been made into a state not unlike a cohesive jelly, kept in form only by the layer of hide surrounding them. Her order not to move is almost a joke to him; he cannot so much as twitch anything she had trodden on. He knows these techniques well, of course, but to play them with such skill, and only with one's hindpaws...she is the only one he has seen who can do this, and his pride is still more humbled by what she can accomplish simply with those deadly-clawed talons. He's momentarily suffocated as she begins to rub and stroke at his neck, his bones creaking and cricking against each other as the green-scaled female presses down with her compact power, her thick, warm padflesh completely engulfing his slender neck as she massages it. As a dragon with quite some knowledge of his own body, he cannot hide his shock when he suddenly feels his gag reflex simply vanish, the up-till-now spasming muscle simply going limp, as if put to rest underneath Skewer's skilled talons. And then...ahhh, the quenching of the fire! A deep sigh of relief escapes Timanth's muzzle as the long, deep strokes of her hindfoot drive the tingling from his back, replacing it with a slow, throbbing welling of warmth that is not at all unpleasant. He still cannot move a thing, but the feeling is more of a pleasant relaxed lethargy more than a helpless paralysis that came before. The copper drake is not even aware that his forepaws are clenched until a sudden sharp grind between his shoulder muscles causes his fingers to uncurl. Surprisingly, especially to him, he still possesses his powers of speech. "Yes, my lady."
Skewer casts an amused glance downwards as she steps neatly down from Timanth's well-trampled back. "Such an obedient dragon," she hisses, sliding her tail underneath him and heaving him over onto his back with surprising strength. The stalker gazes slyly up and down the length of her victim's paralyzed body, her slitted eyes glistening with anticipatory pleasure, and she begins to tightly circle his prone form. "I understand that your conversion involved considerable time spent with both your muzzle and your hips under Dras' feet - this is convenient for us now. You are clearly well accustomed to having raptor soles in close proximity to these parts of your body, and they just so happen to house the bodily recesses into which I most enjoy inserting my own talons." She leans down over him and smiles a chilling raptor smile. "You'll be less likely to clench up if your muscle control returns before I'm done. Open your mouth, please."
The sleek stalker caste chuckles as she has to lend her assistance, laying the toe pads of a sickled foot upon Timanth's weakly lolling jaw and gently pulling it open. "Good dragon," she croons softly, creeping both her long outer toes into his open mouth and sliding their coarse padded undersides against his tongue. Carefully the raptor turns the dragon's head upright and straightens up over the top of him, then she tucks her sickle toe into the gaping maw and begins to slowly, carefully push her sleek, black-soled, digitigrade talon down his throat. She lets out a grunt of pleasure, closing her eyes and purring deeply as the hot flesh of the dragon's throat slides past her scales and pads. "My, that feels good. Breathe normally," she advises as her long reptilian foot vanishes up to the ankle inside Timanth's open jaws.
Timanth pants heavily, his entire body caught in a deep lethargy. His mind is still sharp, though, undulled by any altering substances. This is an entirely new sensation to him, having his body dead but his mind alive; most drugs tended to cloud the thoughts as well as relax the muscles, and having full possession of his mental faculties even while he is helpless to do anything with them, physically, at least, is an odd feeling, and, were it not for the fact that he might have known this would happen, intensely humiliating. He cannot even facilitate Skewer's action as she turns him face-up again, not that she needs any help, her strong tail acting as an easy lever to overturn him once more. Thankfully, she has left him with possession of his wings, and he tucks them neatly again as he settles down onto his back. His mind lets out a shudder that stops some way down his muzzle, the rest of his body unable to follow as he hears Skewer talk and watches her circle ever closer. The bronze drake had indeed spent much of his time either being face-trampled or brought to climax underneath Dras' broad, blue hindpaws, and the azure chieftain still daily took the time to remind Timanth of the feeling of his warm, black pads pressing against his muzzle or hips. Inserting into...where? The copper dragon has a sudden urge to cover his cloaca with his forepaws, but he cannot make a motion to do even that, only stare at her with slightly apprehensive eyes as she moves ever closer.
The bronze drake notes that she has not once used her foreclaws for any manipulation regarding his body, and indeed, she does not seem to plan to. Her claws hook gently against his teeth and, with the assistance of black pads set upon metallic-hued lips, slowly pry his limp jaws open. A slow whine draws out from the dragon's throat, embarrassed that he cannot even perform this most basic of actions now, a sound quickly cut off by the smooth, easy thrusting of Skewer's digits against his tongue, the taste of the leathery pads suddenly sinking into his taste buds, similar to Dras' but with its own subtle, feminine undertones. He can only watch, his pink tongue twitching meekly against her padflesh as the compact stalker-caste pushes further in, her sickle toe carefully pushing around his lips and sliding into his maw as well. Despite the slow throbbing of his outer muscles, he can feel everything within his mouth completely, the scraping sensations of the coarse pads against his tongue, her scales rasping lightly against his mucous-lined, smooth throat. A slow squelch rises from within his muzzle as the emerald raptoress pushes further in, her ballpad slipping past his lips and slowly pushing its way down his throat as her arch vanishes past his snout tip. He groans deeply, not in pain, but intense surprise and a deep, heavy sensation in his body as his sensitive inner flesh is rubbed by raptor scales and leathery pads. His throat has begun to bulge slightly, his relaxed muscles pushing aside for the intruder that gracefully moves them apart. And yet they still strain to collapse around that intruding hindpaw, their warmth squeezing tightly around her walking section as the copper dragon tries to follow the stalker's advice and breath slowly and easily, his warm breath puffing up against her scales.
Skewer closes her eyes and growls softly in arousal, balancing effortlessly on one foot alongside the semi-paralyzed dragon's head while she slowly pushes her other sleek talon into him. With her long reptilian toes held close together and her claw tips held steadily forward, the sturdy sprinter foot carefully widens Timanth's esophagus, bulging his throat from the inside as it penetrates him further. The stalker's intricate muscle control allows her to maintain a slight curvature across the padded ball of her foot, allowing air to seep up and down along the compression creases across her center pad, but as the raptor's generous walking section creeps down past the dragon's larynx, his fleshy gullet is left to contract around the warm, firm and unfortunately rounded heel of her sleek digitigrade foot, which securely plugs it.
Skewer smiles with creamy-eyes pleasure as she feels the muted convulsion of shock pass through Timanth, and she watches him for a moment, satisfaction dripping from her sly, scaly features. Carefully, she lies down on her side upon the heated flagstones around the edge of the pool, hauling the head of the numbed, paralyzed dragon over to face her, his jaws gaping comically around her lower leg. She draws her other talon in against her and gently pushes it to Timanth's face, a lusty purr leaving her sprawled body as she dips a foreleg to pleasure herself. Only after several long seconds does she lift her sharp yellow gaze to meet the desperate eyes of her victim, then spread her toes over his small skull and brace against it to swiftly and smoothly pull her penetrating foot out of him.
"Very good," she purrs, keeping her hindlimb lazily extended against Timanth's muzzle to let him gasp breathlessly into her still-damp pads while she stretches out her other talon to firmly massage the strained throat of the smaller reptile with its hot, slickened sole. "That wasn't so bad now, was it?"
It take all of Timanth's rather practiced control over his own body not to panic and go into convulsions as the slick, emerald hindpaw of his mistress for the day sinks ever-deeper into his esophagus. He can feel his gag reflex attempting to work, but by now the steady, unstoppable foot and is long dextrous digits have sunk far past that point, leaving his throat clenching tightly against her ball and toes over and over again. The copper drake still has air, although at this point he's not sure if it's a blessing or a curse, the warmth of his widening throat hugging tightly against Skewer's green talon as it presses down into his body. She's almost reached his stomach by now, and he can feel the rest of her smooth-scaled arch sliding slowly in with a soft slurp. And then...no air!
He has to keep himself from raising his forepaws to clutch at her ankle, not that it would have done much good against the compactly muscled raptoress! As the theropod sprawls onto her side, the bronze dragon stops his breathing, knowing he can go like this for a few more moments before losing consciousness. And he's sure that she knows he has no air as well, but she simply presses her other foot against his muzzle, splaying her talons over his face and half-encasing it in black-padded darkness. The purr she lets out can be felt deep within the drake's body as it travels down her leg, his tongue lapping helplessly at her heel.
Just as he thinks he cannot handle it anymore, feeling his heartbeat fading, she finally sees fit to release him, a thick squelch announcing the removal of her talon, strands of mucous and draconic saliva stretching between her foot and his muzzle, having open limply. Panting heavily into the ballpad still held against his snout, the bronze-hided male coughs a few times, letting out a soft groan as Skewer's other foot begins to knead and stroke along his neck. Forcing himself to talk, to keep strong, to keep his pride, he manages to gasp out, "No, it wasn't, my lady."
"Poor dragon," Skewer croons, and continues to stroke her padded sole up and down Timanth's throat until his coughing reflex dies away. Amusement curls the corners of her reptilian jawline as she says, "Your mind might be willing to submit and your muscles are clearly mine to control, but I think at its very core, your body just doesn't trust my paws yet." She pulls her wet talon from his swollen throat and eyes it thoughtfully, splaying and clenching her long, slick toes to draw long webbings of viscous saliva between them. "Perhaps a little primal pleasure will help to ease that mistrust, hmmm?" A sly smirk as her slitted yellow eyes travel down the heaving length of Timanth's body and come to rest upon the dragon's cloaca. "Roll onto your side and face me."
The raptoress waits patiently while her command is obeyed, stiff, numb muscles gradually awakening to respond to Timanth's desires. Slowly, and with seductively smooth and fluid motions, Skewer pulls her other foot from alongside the dragon's head and rubs her soles together, liberally slickening the pads of both with hot saliva. "Remember what I said about passing out," she says, carefully positioning her generous, black soles on either side of Timanth's suddenly tense and throbbing male organ. "If the sensation becomes too intense, try to tell me before I have to tailwhip you back to consciousness." Her eyes flicker downwards, a snort of amusement huffing from her green muzzle as she lightly touches the padded underside of a sickle toe to the rock-hard length of sensitive dragon flesh. "My, hasn't he trained you well?" Then the teasing raptoress fully engulfs Timanth's aching shaft between her slickened foot pads and begins to smoothly massage pure ecstasy into it.
"Poor dragon." The words hammer deeply into Timanth's pride. He has been victimized, trampled, crushed nearly to a pulp, but nothing wounds his draconity more than those words. Despite all the abuse he has taken, he has never asked for sympathy from anyraptor. And to have the raptoress, who moments before had just shoved almost her entire hindpaw down his throat, mockingly croon those words stabs deeply into his mind, and he lets out a shudder, involuntary and powerful, a sign that his body has begun to shake off its talon-induced paralysis. Gritting his teeth, he slowly, with much effort, rolls over, forcing his muscles to move through sheer willpower, his tail levering itself slowly against the stone slab until he is gazing upon the emerald female.
His eyes hold no hatred, for he could never loathe raptors or the hindpaws that they chose to pleasure or torment him with. Not after what Dras did to him. In fact, it's all he can do to stifle a soft whine of desire as those soles rub together, the black leathery pads making slick wet sounds as his saliva is spread over them. Distrusting himself to speak coherently, the copper drake nods slowly, his breath coming quick and fast in anticipation as he eyes the warm, dark walking sections framing his arousal. It isn't even a conscious decision to the dragon anymore, his lust for the raptors' feet. At certain times, he would find himself growing hard instinctively, only recognizing it after the fact, as he watched his theropod lords and ladies work a victim underpaw, or spread their hind feet in front of him to be serviced. He spasms suddenly, rippling, electric pleasure blossoming in his groin and swelling through his body, the bronze dragon muttering a soft, "Gods..." under his breath. And indeed, Dras has trained his servant well, as evidenced by the howl of pleasure that the drake can no longer repress as the hot ebony pads engulf his shaft and begin to knead and rub, sharp waves of the purest ecstasy crashing through his entire being as his throbbing member lets out a jet of pre upon Skewer's dark pads, the copper dragon's control slipping at a rapid pace as he writhes upon the stone slab.
The eyes of the sleek green raptor lock upon Timanth's pleasure-soaked muzzle as tightly as her padded feet seal around his malehood, keen slitted pupils surveying every subtle facial movement upon her less-than-unwilling victim while thick, black soles flex and splay to intricately stimulate the dragon to his very limits. Skewer easily brings him to the very summit of what would have been a shamefully rapid orgasm, only to pull back and keep him balanced on the edge, her rounded sickle toes slipping into his cloaca to knead the very base of his shaft in a wholesome, oddly warming manner that takes the edge off the tingling rush of his encroaching climax - but not enough to relieve the sensation of being about to orgasm. The dragon is left helplessly sliding through waves of fierce electric pleasure towards a climax that never comes.
"This is the technique for which stalkers are most renowned," she says, purring calmly in the midst of Timanth's raging ecstasy as she continues to knead with her sickle toes while the broad, firm balls of her talons slide sedately up and down the throbbing length of his shaft. "A well trained and skillful stalker can hold her subject like this indefinitely. It's the most intense pleasure that a body such as yours can feel: the last rush towards climax." A broad smile spreads across her sly features and she slips her strong, flexible tail over Timanth's hips to hold him still before continuing, "As far as this poor little body of yours is concerned, you're on the very verge of fulfilling your natural destiny by reproducing. For the genes that make you, it's the most important thing you can ever do, and when you are as close to it as now, they will never let you stop. Not even survival instinct can override the urge to continue at this very last moment before ejaculation." She chuckles, adding, "We've tested this quite thoroughly."
The twitches and gapes of endless ecstasy that roll across Timanth's shocked muzzle only arouse Skewer further, and the raptoress carefully slides a muscled foreleg down to pleasure herself while she holds the dragon on the edge of his orgasm. Her firm, rounded sickle toes work deep, penetrating waves of groaning bliss through the base of his shaft, kneading and stretching the lips of his cloaca while they massage it between their padded undersides, and all the while, the raptoress' warm, broad balls continue to firmly squeeze up and down its tense fleshy length as her long outer toes slip and slide over the organ's sensitive head: A merciless mixture of overpowering stimulation, all contained by the dull kneading of her skillful sickle toes.
"At this point," the raptor purrs, her own eyes half-lidded with arousal, "One of three things can happen." She smiles into Timanth's blue eyes. "Either I stop and give your body the release it desires - and it will be a rather intense release, I should warn you. Or," she adds, her reptilian smile turning cunning and frighteningly sadistic, "I continue, and you either pass out or your heart stops."
Timanth lets out a heavy gasp, followed by a deep groan and several whimpers, uncontrolled and somewhat shamed. In the space of minutes, Skewer has managed to bring him to the edge, to the very brink of climax whereupon he would spill his thick, warm strands of draconic seed upon her ebony pads. It's just a little humiliating for the converted copper drake, for he takes some amount of pride in being able to control his own body better than others could theirs. That this emerald, seductive beauty is able to make him completely lose ahold of his bodily control is more than a little humbling.
"My lady...*huff*...I am afraid that if you continue in this manner...manner...I shall...ahhhhnnnnghh!"
His cry of impending climax is cut off, replaced by a groan of frustrated restraint as he's choked from achieving full orgasm, the sea of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him swiftly and smoothly compressed back down by the sickle toes of his mistress for the day. A deep, heavy shudder wracks his body as the green female slips the rounded digits skillfully into his cloaca, bulging it out slightly, but more importantly kneading and massaging at the very base of his dragonhood where it connects with his cloacal flesh. And it is there where his ecstasy is choked, his orgasm held down dextrously by the lithe, easy movements of the deinonychus pleasuring him.
The bronze dragon looks up with a mix of fear and anticipation as the emerald-scaled raptoress drapes her tail over his hips and explains her methods to him. It dawns on him that despite his own muscular control and knowledge of the general workings of different living bodies, Skewer is on another level entirely from him. She seems to have every single inch of his body figured out, and only from bouts of brief contact with him.
He can no longer make a sound, the only noise coming from his body the labored gasping breaths of pleasure-soaked lust. The drake is sure he will not have a choice in the matter as to whether he is allowed his release or whether the female deinonychus makes him die or pass out, and at this point part of his mind is beyond caring. Sheer pleasure rolls in swelling, crashing waves over his entire being, the thick black ballpads of the stalker caste squeezing and stroking at his shaft combining with her long, agile digits teasing at his frenum causing his tongue to loll out of his held-open muzzle, his eyes closed in a daze of pre-orgasmic bliss.
The startled gasps of the bronze dragon echo rhythmically around the steamy chamber as Skewer continues to ply her stalker-caste skills upon his pleasure-soaked body. With her strong reptilian tail curled tightly over his hips, Timanth's instinctive thrusting convulsions are subdued and the sleek, dexterous talons of the raptoress are allowed to perform their intricate ministrations with subtle intimacy. For close to a quarter of an hour she draws out the intense sensation, letting his instinct-dominated body plummet endlessly towards an orgasm that is never quite in reach, but presently her pleasured voice intones over the hiss of the steam, "I think that's enough for now." And her tail tightens its grip around Timanth's hips as the dragon snarls and growls in animalistic protest, struggling to continue with numbed, overwhelmed muscles. The larger reptile only smiles at this and carefully unclasps her warm soles from around his malehood, leaving the tense flesh to throb painfully in the steamy air. As Timanth attempts to thrust back into her teasingly splayed talons, their black soles slick with his own fluids, Skewer slowly extends one and smoothly rubs her toe pads against the underside of his shaft until the dragon's long-denied orgasm surges blissfully through him.
"Theeere you go," she chuckles, arousal coarsing through her own sleek powerful body as she settles comfortably on her side to watch Timanth moan in luxurious release. Her warm, black soles smooth and calm the dragon's clenches as they slide up and down his softened shaft, drawing wave after wave of hot, creamy fluid from him and smothering the fire of his arousal under a blanket of pure lethargic bliss.
Timanth...is lost in ecstasy. The supple, emerald tail of Skewer prevents him from moving an inch, the bronze dragon not even allowed the action of thrusting needily up into the stalker caste's soles. He can't do anything to push himself over the edge, every movement of his body controlled and dominated by the green raptoress. His forepaws clench downwards, claws scraping along the stone slab as wave after wave of pre-orgasmic pleasure wracks his body. The sensation is so intense, so utterly filled with passion and lust that he thinks that if he has to endure any more of this his body might explode from the sheer pressure building up within him. Natural bodies are not made for this, he thinks weakly through his pleasure-hazed mind, No wonder we feel this way only a moment before orgasm! The steamy air of the bathhouse feels warm and pleasant against his leathery hide, moisture beading against his skin as he instinctively attempts to press back upwards against the massaging black pads, to no avail. And suddenly, with a few words, they are gone! A low growl of frustration, primal and completely born of his animal lust, bursts out of the copper dragon's lips, his body writhing and bucking stronger than before. But it is kept almost completely immobile by the green-scaled raptor's bail, and he can only degenerate into soft, needy whines as his unattended shaft throbs in the air, its painfully erect length begging for relief, but getting none. Even the touch of the steamy air is almost enough to send him back into convulsions, and his half-lidded eyes barely make out her talons, placed so teasingly close to his dragonhood, but so out of reach.
But suddenly, one of them moves, and all in a moment spikes and spikes of pleasure are searing back through his body, great spires rising out from the smothering ocean of lust that the deinonychus' sickle toes had enforced before as her dextrous outer digits now sending him crashing over the edge into pure ecstasy! His body tenses heavily, a deep breath sucked in by his muzzle as his eyes clench closed involuntarily and he roars out, his claws digging into the stone he rests on as his body almost curls forwards, feeling the tensing in his groin as his thick, draconic seed fountains out against Skewer's soles and his own body. Her leathery black pads are quickly covered in a layer of creamy white as she strokes along his shaft, his seed liberally coating her hindpaws, the sticky white fluid stretching in tendrils between her toes. Timanth's orgasm, to him, seems to stretch on for forever, the copper dragon finally collapsing backwards into a slow afterglow as he basks in the presence of Skewer's paws upon his body. Gasping softly, he manages a breathless chuckle, "I daresay...my lady....that...*Hfff*...if Dras had done this in his first conditioning session, I might have been his in an instant."
Skewer's crestless emerald-scaled head dips slightly in acknowledgment of the compliment, but her smile is amused more than grateful. "I haven't even tried to teach him that technique," she intones, letting Timanth's slickened shaft slide out from between her warm soles to a final shuddering gasp from the dragon. "It would be a waste of both our time. Alpha raptors are more agile than most, but they don't have the bodily control of a stalker - you need both in order to feel when your... subject has reached the point of no return and to ply the sickle toe motions properly." She chuckles at Timanth's apparent disappointment, rasping her padded soles together to scrape the fluid from them. "So your master still performs conversion sessions upon you, does he? How interesting. My own assessment would have to be that you're already as converted as can be." Her yellow eyes rise to flicker to and fro between Timanth's pupilless azure ones. "Perhaps he really has become addicted to the energy drain. Massage and clean them, if you please," she adds, sliding both sleek deinonychus feet in close to the dragon's abdomen. "I think you'll find your muscles in full working order after that."
The raptoress settles comfortably on her flank as Timanth begins to work, and continues to eye him thoughtfully. "The energy drain," she says, "is an ability, amongst other non-bodily powers, that only a very few raptors possess. Any hatchling that's discovered to have these abilities becomes a shaman, regardless of caste, and is taught how to use and control them from a very young age; by the time maturity is reached, a shaman is perfectly aware of the potential rewards and dangers of his or her abilities, and is capable of employing them responsibly." She pauses to purr approval as Timanth begins to nuzzle and worship the handsomely padded sole of her right talon, and rewards him with a gentle grasp-and-stroke motion against his whisker tendrils using her other dexterous hind paw.
"But Dras," she continues, "thanks to you, has come into some of these abilities well after maturity, and with an abruptness that would shake even a stalker's self-control. Now, I wouldn't dare accuse our chieftain of acting irresponsibly with his freshly-converted servant, but if he is still draining you on a regular basis, there is a good chance that he has become addicted, and addictions, as I'm sure you know, inevitably grow more intense." The steam of the bathing chamber curls around her sly muzzle, dulling the glint of her sharp fangs as she grins. "So the next time those big, handsome alpha caste feet come to rest upon this fragile little head of yours, bear in mind that the energy drain is also one of our most ancient methods of execution."
Timanth almost lets out a soft whine of disappointment at Skewer's comment, quickly muffled but betrayed by the deep copper flush of embarrassment upon his cheeks. If Dras knew how to do this...if the big blue alpha-caste knew how, it would probably make the times that the chieftain decided to simply trample him underfoot bearable. As much as he adores the sleek, broad soles of his deinonychus master, the discomfort and slight pain of being trodden upon, and, sometimes when the large raptor became overeager, partially flattened, was not necessarily the most pleasant thing in the world, even if they were being done by the thick black pads of his owner. He nods at Skewer's inquiry, "Not as often as he used to, but he still does it every few days or so. And he...quite enjoys himself when he does so."
He lets out a grunt of surprise as the slickened green-scaled walking sections stroke once, quickly, up his belly and chest, and suddenly he can move again, his muscles no longer trapped in the smothering, warm lethargy that Skewer's massage had imparted upon them before. Raising his muzzle and his forepaws, he leans into one sole, taking the ball in his hands and kneading the warm black solepad with his thumbs, even while his muzzle presses firmly against the center of the ebony area, tongue slipping out to dive into the crevasse between the two halves of the stalker caste's ballpad. It's abit strange, tasting himself upon the emerald sole, but it is not unpleasant. Especially not with what Skewer rewards him with, a slow, dextrous, sensual stroking along his whiskers. Although not a particularly erogenous zone of his body, the prehensile whiskers hanging from the copper drake's lower jaw are among the most sensitive portions of his body, and the stroking sends a slow thrum of contentment through his body.
The bronze dragon listens to the green stalker's words with interest, until her sensual, purring tone turns a shade darker. Addiction, he knows, can be a dangerous thing, and not just to the party addicted. In this case, he might have serious concern for his health. Shuddering against Skewer's outstretched sole, he asks, "Did you say execution, my lady?" At the purred assent coming from the steam-filled air beyond his current sole-filled field of vision, he continues, "What would you suggest I do, my lady? We both know that refusing him is absolutely out of the question."
She nods, thoughtfully splaying her lithe, dexterous deinonychus toes around the small muzzle of the dragon while he nuzzles into them. "It would. He likes you, as anyone who knows him well can tell from the way he talks, but disobeying the chieftain is second only to disobeying one of the gods. If you refuse him directly, he'll be compelled to have you thrown under an execution rex." An expression of dark pleasure predatorises her shapely muzzle. "Have you seen a divine execution yet? No? Well, let me assure you that it would be an unpleasant experience. The gods can be remarkably cruel and surgical with their paws, despite their great size. The more skilled rexes can keep victims alive for whole hours while they carefully tread them to death." Her warm, padded toes unclasp from around Timanth's panting muzzle as she stacks her feet casually before his head, bold, generous soles on stark display. "It would be a shame to see such a... devoted servant crushed like a common infidel, so, no. I would not recommend refusing Dras when he demands your energy."
The sleek tip of Skewer's tail begins stroking seductively up and down the length of Timanth's own as she stretches comfortably on her flank, watching serenely while he begins massaging her padded talons, nudging his snout occasionally into their broad, raptor-sized soles in welcome gestures of submission. For a long while the deinonychus is silent, her emerald scales gleaming in the steamy light of the bathing chamber while she regards Timanth. Eventually she says, "I will summon you here again in the next few days. I have a good friend who is both a highly accomplished shaman and a close acquaintance of Dras. I'm sure she could be encouraged, given your... cooperation... to advise you further, but in the meantime you must simply obey your master and give him no reason to suspect you are reluctant to let him drain you. If you are able to resist mentally, do so only subtly; if not..." She chuckles, white fangs protruding from between her scaly lips. "You can only hope that his self control lasts a little longer."
Timanth blushes a little at the compliment. He had really no idea what the sleek blue raptor thought of him. Oh, certainly, he enjoyed the services of the resilient little bronze dragon underneath and against his ebony pads and azure-scaled soles, but beyond that...he wasn't sure if the emotional attachment he now felt towards the gruff, prideful deinonychus was in any way reciprocated. A warm feeling wells up inside of him at Skewer's words, something he'd never expected to feel towards acknowledgment that his previous executioner felt affection towards him. But still, he must not forget the chieftain's pride. And pride rightfully earned, for he had never seen as large a raptor as he move with such grace, dexterity, and an almost sleek liquidity in his every step, as if he were constantly on the prowl. He is somewhat distracted by the emerald toes curling around his muzzle, dutifully nuzzling into them and nosing his snout between the agile digits, although the stalker-caste's words still hammer deeply into his mind. He had not indeed seen an execution under the paws of the raptorian city's gods, although with the multitude of smaller creatures roaming the streets, the occasional splatter was unavoidable. Just the thought of those massive hindpaws able to manipulate a victim in a way to prolong his or her suffering for hours makes him shudder, although his rather...unique nature would ensure that he'd just reform afterwards. Still, though...the pain was something that would very likely traumatize him and give him nightmares for months if he were subjected to such treatment. The drake had not taken kindly to the first time he was under Dras' talons, during the execution.
Pushing his muzzle forwards into the stacked soles before him, he reaches his paws outwards to knead against the supple, leathery pads, digging his thumbs in and rubbing slow, firm circles against the padflesh, massaging the green raptoress' soles with dexterous precision, relaxing the hindpaw before him. His snout digs into the crease at the center of the ballpad, tongue licking slowly into the crevasse. A tingle of electricity shoots up his tail at the stroking of Skewer's own, although he knows not what it means. Stalkers, as he has read, are trained in the art of seduction as well as assassination and bodily control, and he does not know whether the female was truly making advances or simply acting idly on impulse. Nevertheless, her next words offer welcome relief, and he can tell when his audience is at an end, as she gracefully maneuvers his muzzle upright, and almost like a master skillfully controlling a puppet, rolls him to his feet, standing up next to him soon after. He bows deeply, forepaws clasped together in front of his chest, "I thank you for your sage advice, my lady. I shall eagerly await your summons, and pray that I am able to...last...until then." Turning around, Timanth strides out of the bathhouse, giving the guard another wary look before hurrying down the street back to Dras' home. The lilting, seductive purring of the stalker-caste green follows him home, until the doorflap lifts and closes behind him, shutting out the noise of the city outside.
---
It was a lot of fun - many thanks for playing, Timanth!
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Wow, I think that was your most fleshed-out and involved one ever, you two. 
