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The Magala's Harlot

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Madison’s heart pounded in her chest, a trickle of nervous sweat running into the small of her back. The cave lay before her.

She tried to remind herself that people had done this before and survived, there had to be. A whole cottage industry had risen up around precisely what she was about to try to do, she had sought out and spoken to some of those survivors herself, seen the dreamy, distant look in their eyes when they told her their stories. They had been altogether too happy to share, to relive those moments and encourage someone else to follow in their footsteps. Clearly, what they had experienced had been powerful and lasting, not to mention eminently survivable.

But, a treacherous portion of her mind insisted on reminding her, many people had attempted this and had not lived to tell the tale.

That was the whole point, wasn’t it? People went into these places, these warrens, for the express purpose of fighting what lay within, they came in better equipped than Madison was, ready for combat, and still they died. In droves, they died. And now she was intending to go in unarmed, naked but for the armored shell that had cost her so much of her hard earned money: what chance did she have? Yes, it was possible to live through it, but it was possible to survive a fall down a cliff, too. Doesn’t mean either should be attempted. How many people had actually tried what she was here to try, versus how many had actually come out the other side?

It was impossible to know.

For a moment, Madison considered leaving, simply turning tail and returning to town to find some place to pawn off this armor for a bit of quick cash. But before she could, a vision of dark scales and fluttering wings passed before her mind’s eye. The blush in the cheeks of the woman she had spoken to most recently, who had pointed her to this exact spot, presented itself for her consideration. The passion dripping from the words those she had interviewed had used, laden with deep longing and a desire that persisted sometimes even years later. Finally, from the depths of the cave, unseen and drenched in shadow, came a snarl, dark and guttural, like the grinding of ancient stones deep beneath the earth.

It sent a shiver of desire down Madison’s spine.

No, there was no going back now. Not after so much time, money, and idle thoughts had been sunk into this endeavor. One does not turn back when standing at the gates of success. Steeling herself, Madison took a step forward, and then another, slinging the pack from her back and swinging it idly, forward and backward. Casting her eyes about, she located a likely outcropping of rock jutting out just above Madison’s own height, beside the cave opening, that little gap in the cliff face through which the harsh, sandpaper breathing of the creature within could be heard. Reaching up, she jammed the pack into the rocks until it was firmly wedged in; that pack contained her food and spare clothes, things she definitely needed and couldn’t afford to lose to curious animals snuffling around on the ground. Best to keep it out of their reach, nice and hidden.

It wouldn’t do to have to walk back to town naked, after all.

Spending a moment to clamber up high enough to verify that her things were properly packed in, winding the straps around the heaviest rock she could find, Madison hissed out a breath between her teeth and dropped back to the ground. There were no other excuses to linger here, no reason to delay, and nothing more keeping her from either success, or death. Checking the clasps of her armor for the last time, the purple-tinged plates sending dancing lilac reflections over the dirt, Madison sidled into the cave entrance, pushing herself into the narrow gap, careful not to allow the metal she wore to scrape against the stone around her.

Almost immediately, she was met by the scent of moss and darkness, growing stronger the further into the shadows she went. It was a living scent, earthen and somehow patient, growing and spreading unseen by the eyes of man, filling up the deep spaces below the earth. Yes, Madison knew this smell, dreamed of it sometimes, and as she slipped through into the main space of the cavern, her eyes found its source almost immediately. A dark fog roiled around her ankles, carpeting the entirety of the space before her, eagerly devouring the light that lanced through gaps in the cave ceiling above. On the opposite side of the room was a larger tunnel winding off elsewhere; Madison knew where it led, but equally knew not to enter through it, and the reason why lay curled up in front of the path, wings covering the majority of its bulk.

The Gore Magala.

It seemed as though all of Maddie’s adrenaline dumped itself into her system at once, fight or flight responses ripping through her so hard that she thought her knees might give out from the sheer pressure of wanting to flee and denying that urge at the same time. A smooth, scaled head emerged from beneath the fold of the wings, fur rustling on the membranous, multi-jointed limbs, and her fear only grew worse. The creature scented the air, powerful breath hissing as it turned its head toward her, sightless face baring terrible, razor-sharp fangs. Her mind wheeled, desperately scrabbling over every piece of advice she had been given, seeking the first step, the thing she needed to do that would stop the Gore Magala from leaping upon her immediately.

The armor helped with that, and she could already see the hesitation in the wyvern’s demeanor, watching as it tilted its head, pulsing yet more black, spore-like scales from its wings in her direction. The glittering purple metal had been made for her, custom fit for this purpose, by a couple working out of a combined blacksmith and apothecary, who understood Madison’s desires and knew what could be done to maximize her chances of attaining them. The scales that currently whirled up around the woman had played a large part in that process, woven through the metallurgy that made the armor, along with some of Madison’s own hair and yet more chemicals derived from the Gore Magala’s body, pheromones and hormones intermingled with metals and compounds tweaked with infinite care at the molecular level. Exacting in care and detail, the armor-smith pair had worked throughout the night as Madison sat and watched, awe filling her pale features as the intricate pieces came together. Once the moon had risen high and the forge had fallen silent, it had been time for Madison’s own major contribution, the most stressful thing she had ever done.

… Well, before walking unarmed into the Gore Magala’s lair, that is.

Slipping her legs into the greaves and her arms into the pauldrons, Madison had lain back into the rear piece of the armor and allowed the blacksmith to lever the chest plate down onto her, the outer layers of the metal still red hot and cooling. Only a few lead-lined pillows and the layering of the metal protected her otherwise nude body from the heat, but this was a necessary step, it had been explained to her. While she lay sealed in the sweltering armor, her very essence would soak into the metal, her scent and other biological signatures sinking through the heat-loosened bonds of the metal to become a part of its very fabric. Within that metal shell, “Madison,” and “Gore Magala,” would commingle, just enough to trick the wyvern’s senses, to turn its mental approach to her from violent to… something far more intimate.

Its makers had called it Attraction Armor.

Madison supposed it was better than “the fuck suit.”

The Gore Magala had risen to its feet now, claws scoring the earth, wings sweeping like a cape behind it, as it truly faced Madison for the first time. Forcing her feet to move, she made her way down the incline and into the cave proper, moving toward the creature on legs that trembled, her armor clinking all the way. There were no eyes to look into, no way for her to approach it the way she would another human, and so Madison allowed her eyes to wander the wyvern’s form, playing over dark scales and the swishing tail that could break her with a single swing, and would have, had she not come into this prepared.

Desire rippled through her.

It was beautiful in its own dark and deadly way, most anyone would agree to that, see the majesty in the beasts that roamed this land. But what Madison saw was different, what the wyvern evoked far more primal. It was a handsome creature, this wyvern, this Gore Magala. The scales along its flank begged to be stroked, the cape of its wings regal, with fur seemingly made for her fingers to twine through. The sheer bulk of the creature made Madison blush, her insides turned to jelly, and all she could think about was its weight atop her, all that power and hardness bearing down on her.

That was what she was here for. Don’t worry, the armor would work, if it wasn’t going to the wyvern would have killed her already…

Happily, the Gore Magala didn’t seem to know what to do with her, which was certainly a step up from intending to kill her. Head swaying from side to side, serpent-like and sinuous, its nostrils flared, taking in the air as Madison crept on feet as light as she could make them down the side of the creature. Its neck curled, keeping her firmly in front of its sightless face no matter where she moved, and even if it couldn’t see her, Madison was all too aware of the damage those fangs could do, of the breath weapon the Gore Magala possessed and all that it did to a human body. Her armor could protect against the taint of the Frenzy, but thus far it had only been tested on the dark, purple mist that writhed on the floor, and there was no way to know what the brunt of an actual attack would do to it.

… To her.

As she moved, the Gore Magala’s wings lifted, beat gently at the ground, stirring and spreading the layer of scales further, and Madison took the opportunity to slip beneath them, laying a gauntleted hand gently against its rippling flank. A trill escaped the Magala’s mouth, fangs sliding together, so close to Maddie herself, but it didn’t lash out; flushing with pleasure, smiling despite her nervousness, she stroked down the wyvern’s side, marveling at the strength of the scales, the pure gloss that shone upon them, the faint sensation of musculature rippling just below them.

‘Hello, gorgeous…’ She cooed, making sure to keep her voice low and gentle and slow, so that the monster would not mistake it for the shouts of battle coordination. The wyvern’s head leaned in closer, close enough that she could feel its breath heat her armor, but Maddie had different aims than that beautiful face, and she continued down the side of the Magala, confidence growing with every second that she remained alive. Taking a moment to stroke the monster’s hind leg, purring with self effacing appreciation, she made her way down to the tail.

The Attraction Armor served the purpose of confusing the Gore Magala’s senses, to turn her introduction to it away from immediate violence, but there was more that needed to be done. Simply not getting clawed to death was step one. It was a little known fact that there were a number of gaps in the scales at a Gore Magala’s tail, segments to aid in the flexibility of that appendage, narrow, but wide enough for a human hand to slip in if necessary. Beneath those scales lay particularly sensitive nerves, through which one could tug at ancient, primal parts of the creature’s physiology. During mating, tail biting featured prominently.

Madison couldn’t do that, exactly, but she could push her fingers under one scale at the base of the tail, just as she had been taught. Soft skin met her touch, pliable flesh roiling with muscles lay just below the wyvern’s armor, and Madison slowly allowed the tips of her fingers to run the length of that available span of skin, felt the Gore Magala shudder from the tip of its tail to the top of its head. The tremor was so strong she felt for a moment that it might break something of hers, but she persisted regardless, repeating the motion a few more times, just like she was supposed to.

Upon her second attempt, the Gore Magala trilled, the sound higher than anything Madison had previously heard from the wyvern, the intent behind it just as mysterious as any other vocalization these monsters made, but she took it as a sign of encouragement all the same. Her third stroke was the last one she got, as a wing came down over her head, easily covering her entirely, and in the whirling motion of leathery membrane that followed a claw knocked her sideways, armor screeching as she sprawled on the ground, unable to see anything but the sinuous motion of scales and claws, unable to hear more than the thudding of her racing heart and the low growl of the Gore Magala as it loomed overhead, pinning her to the ground effortlessly beneath one curved talon. Something inside Madison twisted, pulsed with need.

Fuck, she was already so wet…

Fear hooked into her, made her struggle, but it wasn’t alone, and her sheer arousal at having the creature’s bulk finally atop her turned her movements into a sort of needy squirm. Thus far, everything had gone according to plan, and it continued to do so as the Gore Magala’s snout ran the length of her body, snuffling and taking in her scent, wings beating a gentle rhythm to stir the scales around them into a rising morass around her, covering her for a moment before subsiding; the wyvern truly had the measure of her now.

The sound it made next was almost volcanic, rumbling and hot and inexorable, pure power in audible form. Madison’s lips parted, moaning helplessly in response.

One huge paw came down on the breastplate, and some instinctual part of Maddie’s brain made her shrink back into the far corners of the armor, hearing the metal creak as the Gore Magala ramped up the pressure, pressing down hard enough bend her only layer of protection inward. Her eyes closed, squeezed shut as she reminded herself, desperately, that this too was a part of the plan, something expected, something that wouldn’t harm her. The blacksmiths had accounted for this, exactly for this, there was no need to fear.

… And yet, when the first plates buckled and creased, she yelped, despite herself.

But instead of collapsing completely in a heap of jagged, mangled metal, Madison’s breastplate instead crumbled, disintegrating into thick purple chunks under the Gore Magala’s hand, turning to glittering dust in the air that drifted up into the wyvern’s face and down, to mingle with the fog of scales around them. The sudden snapping sound of this caused the monster to retract its talons in caution, though its snout still got a full dose of the armor dust, shaking from side to side and puffing out air. It was useless, of course; the chemicals in the dust were fast acting, by now already absorbed into the Magala’s body and the sensory fog that it “saw” with.

Maddie smiled, as her expensive suit of armor did its job. The breastplate had shattered completely, both above and below her, and now her bare back pressed down against the stones beneath as she remained pinned by the monster’s claw on one metal-shod arm, just below the shoulder. She hadn’t been wearing a stitch of clothing other than the Attraction Armor, which made moving around without pinching something sensitive in the joints of the suit a challenge, but there was no other way to properly do this. The suit she had purchased was a multi-stage process for wooing the Gore Magala, the wyvern’s mating habits too complex to be switched on in just one step. The plate-mail’s exterior had been coated with chemicals to bring the creature’s aggression down to zero when it was faced with an intruder, to make it curious enough that, with a little coaxing, it would try to unwrap Madison as though she were a gift for the creature… and she supposed that was an apt enough metaphor. She certainly was here to give herself to the Gore Magala…

Cracking the breastplate, where the highest concentration of the confusing chemicals were, released a concentrated dose of wyvern pheromones laced with Madison’s own, enough to fully prime the creature for what came next. She could already see the beautiful creature twisting, reacting to the changes and then, with a strange, soft purring sound and a truly graceful motion of its head, the Gore Magala truly seemed to see her for the first time.

How she knew that an entity without eyes was watching her Madison couldn’t say, but there was a certain directness to its attention now, as it leaned in toward her. Before, it had been scenting the armor, taking in the tricks and pheromones rather than the woman wearing them, but now that the armor had been cracked and the woman within was revealed, things had changed. The Gore Magala gently pushed its snout into Madison’s bare stomach, just above the still-intact codpiece, the sharpness of its fangs thrillingly close to jabbing into her navel. As that hard, hot nose traversed her belly, those teeth scraped her skin, leaving faint red lines in their wake, as it journeyed up to stop at her breasts. Pale and pert, small and heaving with her deep, ragged breaths, Maddie’s tits shifted and jiggled as the Magala prodded at them, nuzzling in at the space between them, seeking out her heartbeat, probing at the life pounding away within her. It growled into her chest, strong vibrations coursing up the bones of her ribcage, and Madison whimpered with desire, back arching to press her harder into the monster.

She didn’t want to wait. She wanted this to happen, to be happening now. But there were still pieces of armor remaining. There was a sequence to this that needed to be maintained, and the wyvern took the next step by bringing its jaws down around the shoulder of her free arm and squeezing; the metal there came apart just as easily as the breastplate had, and the minimum of force that the Magala had needed to use prevented its fangs from just shearing through Maddie’s arm with it. This time, the chemical dose had the added effect of an involuntary muscle spasm, breaking the shell around her other arm as it lay pinioned beneath the Magala’s claws. Now essentially topless, and confronted by a highly amenable wyvern, Madison knew what was coming next.

Shifting down, the Gore Magala’s teeth closed on Madison’s codpiece, just inches from her crotch, and pulled.

In a puff of glittering purple shards, all of the armor came free at once, greaves and crotch-plate disintegrating in the Magala’s mouth as it tore Madison’s pants off with its teeth. Inhaling the dust was the last part of the plan, and with a pure animal growl, now fully under her spell and convinced of Madison’s prurient worth, the Magala forced its head back between her legs in a rush, hardened snout now pressing against bare skin, her pussy revealed to the open air and the inquisitive creature.

She could feel its breath, vibrating against her most sensitive places. It felt good.

It was possible, a treacherous voice deep inside her piped up, that what happened next wold involve teeth, biting into flesh made vulnerable by the lack of armor. It was possible for the plan to fail, for the Gore Magala to obey a different instinct than the one she had attempted to stoke. It was possible to lose, here and now, failure bringing a painful end to this thrilling encounter.

The feeling of a tongue on her skin put an end to all such worries.

People didn’t often see the Gore Magala’s tongue. It was usually hidden within the creature’s mouth, which was only open long enough for its unfortunate victims to catch a glimpse of long teeth before that mouth closed once more, often terminally. Madison could now feel it, and on a part of her body that rendered that sensation in incredible, exacting detail; the rough scrape of it against her, the length that allowed it to run the entirety of her pussy without running out of tongue, the flexibility that led it to flick, with unerring precision, against her clit at the end. She felt it all, that perfect tongue, seemingly made for her body, up against her in a way that made her eyes roll back into her head at the sheer, sudden sensation of it all.

She couldn’t fathom what it was that the wyvern was getting out of this- surely it couldn’t know the signs of a human woman’s pleasure, could it?- but it was simply too good to care. The tip of its tongue sought out the warm opening to her cunt, sliding inside as Madison spread her legs wider, let the monster lap deeper, slithering into her needy wetness. It tasted her, pulsed a strange up-and-down rhythm, snake-like as it pushed to the far end of her pussy, filling her entirely and still managing to catch her clit, her lips, her thighs in the process. There was exactly enough tongue to turn Maddie into a panting, writhing, incoherent mess in mere moments, as the Gore Magala grunted and explored her to the fullest.

As it pulled away- much to Madison’s mewling protests- a sound like rock grinding together could be heard, and the wyvern rose up. The woman’s eyes fell immediately on a new source of motion further down on the creature’s bulk, and a cheer of victory resounded in her mind. She bit her lip.

‘Hello there…’ She purred, getting onto all fours in spite of the residual tremble in her legs from her impromptu oral session with the beast. Full, round ass swaying, she crawled between the Magala’s front legs, cognizant of its head continuing to hover above, and made her way toward the rear ones, where a section of scales had retracted, between its legs. The cargo within was altogether precious, well worth the additional protection that had kept it hidden away.

The Gore Magala’s penis was long and, frankly, intimidating at the base, flaring out the further in toward the body it got. Conversely, it tapered toward the tip, the end of it actually moving under its own power, far more flexible than a human member. Patches of bioluminescence ran down the underside of it, from tip to base, glowing a soft purple that only highlighted the creatures lovely thickness in the darkness of its shadow.

And there were two of them.

Oh, the second appendage remained within the hollow that the first had already protruded from, where the retractable scales could close over it again if necessary, but Madison could still see it. She knew where to look; the secondary erection was just as flexible as the primary one, though more variable in terms of length and thickness. Its purpose, according to the expert that had met with Madison furtively, long before her plan had even begun to form, was to secure coupling, to slide in where needed and expand to fit, until… well, until the alpha Gore Magala was finished.

And Madison was perfectly content to let the wonderful creature finish with her…

Tentatively, unable to shake the leftover caution that one might naturally feel when kneeling beneath a creature like the Gore Magala, Maddie reached up and cupped the tip of its cock in one palm, felt it twitch against her skin. It was soft, quite unlike the armored scales that comprised the rest of the wyvern’s hide, and Madison could feel the rhythm of the Magala’s heartbeat- far faster than a human’s, she noted- beating in it. Arching her back, leaning up, she gently brushed her lips to it, listening for any form of reaction from the wyvern above; putting herself in this situation had brought her too close to the Magala to see any of the relevant parts of it, just its abdomen and throbbing, twitching cock.

With no immediate hostile reaction, and with nothing to stop her, Madison parted her lips, and slid the Magala’s cock into her mouth.

It tasted like nothing else she had ever experienced, of course it didn’t; the Gore Magala was a strange, particular being, with a biology unlike any other. Oddly sweet, a flavor suggesting grapes without outright tasting of them, it was in no way disagreeable, and so Maddie let her tongue wander its surface, licking from as close to the base as she could get toward the tip. Even from below it, she could feel the Magala shiver in response, a kind of ripple, undoubtedly of pleasure, traveling from its tail up, moving in reverse to a human shiver. Encouraged, partly by this and partly by how she hadn’t been clawed to death, she closed her lips around the glowing shaft and sucked.

Lilac light spilled down over the pale skin of her chest, clung to her breasts, as Madison’s mouth moved down the Gore Magala’s length. Eyes closed, the light was visible even through her eyelids, just barely, as the only source of illumination under the wyvern’s shadow. Pushing herself further, Madison challenged herself to swallow the light, to lick at the bottom-most luminous nodule, and after a moment’s hesitation, with the wyvern’s tip lodged firmly in her throat, she managed it. The tapered end of the cock squirmed in her throat, dangerously close to triggering her gag reflex and squeezing tears from Maddie’s eyes, but she let it linger there as she swallowed, hearing the Magala’s rumbling breath above her. When she finally pulled away, inhaling deeply, she laid a kiss at the tip of the cock, before bringing her mouth back around it.

Having taken as much of it as she could, Madison then moved on to toying with the aroused, monstrous erection, wrapping her lips and tongue around it in as many different variations as possible. Kissing from tip to base revealed that the luminescent nodes were particularly sensitive, each flick of her tongue against them eliciting a flutter of the Magala’s wings and a crunch of stone as its claws dug into the cave floor. She entertained herself for a while, tapping patterns with her mouth up and down the lit patches, occasionally scraping her teeth against one of them so that the Gore Magala growled softly to itself. It was easy to notice how its breathing sped up, grew disjointed and uneven as she toyed with the creature. Naked, kneeling, with a monster’s cock in her hands, Madison grinned; she could affect any man by sucking them off including, apparently, the most imposing of all of them.

But she knew, even as she did, that she couldn’t do this forever. Before the Magala came, Madison simply had to… move on.

She trusted the wyvern’s instincts, knew that it would most likely need no direction and so, wordlessly, she moved. Turning around, Madison lowered herself, prostrate before the Gore Magala, face on the floor with her ass raised in the air. One final moment of hesitation marred her excitement, tempered slightly by the dripping wetness of her arousal staining Madison’s thighs, turning her skin sticky.

And then, she pressed her backside back, the Magala’s throbbing, hardened shaft sliding into her cunt.

Something inside the monster shifted at the sensation, a flurry of motion overhead almost ignored, as Maddie groaned with delight, her needy pussy finally getting some attention. She rocked back and forth on the cock inside her, as the Gore Magala’s foreclaws came downto grasp at her wrists, giant, monolithic shackles keeping her pinned in place. Wings flowed up, and then down, falling like a curtain as the wyvern’s third pair of talons hovered overhead, the sharpened edges scraping gently on Madison’s back; she quivered at the feeling, arching so that those claws scored thin red lines in the otherwise flawless skin of her back.

Finally, the creature’s hips moved, pushing that thick and wonderful cock further into her, as far as it could go.

A moment of silence and stillness ensued, broken only by the tiniest of mewls from Madison, as she spread her legs wider and pushed back with her hips just to feel the wonderful fullness more completely. The wyvern stretched her pussy effortlessly, yet the ache it produced thrummed through her so pleasantly, eclipsing the pain and turning it into something to be pursued, chased and pinned down inside her. Massive claws kept her arms pinioned, helpless and restrained beneath the monster’s bulk, naked and prostrate and… oh god, so fulfilled…

When the Gore Magala started to fuck her in earnest, it was with a surprising degree of gentleness, considering just how easy it would be for the creature to rut her nigh unto destruction. Its hips rolled, holding the pair of them together for a moment longer before allowing them to part with a distinctly wet sound. Madison hung her head, allowing her forehead to rest against the scales of the Magala’s left hand, whimpering in sheer sensation as every ripple and bump on the wyvern’s cock brushed over her insides, lighting new fires within everywhere it went.

It pushed back in, erection actually moving inside her, pushing and prodding at Maddie’s slick walls, and when she shivered and arched her back, the secondary dick rushed into motion, reaching out from within the retractable hollow to push between her pale cheeks. Madison bit her lip, as the Gore Magala didn’t seem to have much restraint in just taking what it wanted, but then, she hadn’t come all this way and put in all this effort to be treated nicely; she had come here to be taken by a wyvern for its pleasure, and so she simply relaxed her muscles and allowed it to take what it wanted. The secondary cock pushed its way in, and soon Madison was full in both her holes, shamelessly rocking back against the twin cocks, one in her pussy, and one in her ass. Every word, every cogent thought in her head, had been erased and replaced with growing, brewing pleasure, and a burning need to please the Gore Magala.

Though Madison’s sense of time degraded into a single, blistering moment, she and the Magala rutted shamelessly, heedlessly, for minutes at a time. Madison clung to the claw in front of her as best she could and simply let herself be bounced back and forth on the wyvern’s cock, a helpless little fuck doll at the mercy of the strength of its thrusts. She knew she would bruise as a result of this, the Magala’s hard scales slapping into her ass over and over had turned her skin tender and red within the first few thrusts, something only compounded by the gradually faster, more forceful thrusts. Sitting down might be hard for a few days after this, but then, at this point Madison couldn’t envision ever wanting to sit down again, not when there was always the option to just keep presenting herself to the wyvern…

But the Gore Magala wasn’t done with her, and its wings descended, the tips of its claws scoring lines down Madison’s flanks as they reached beneath her to scoop her up and hold her aloft, hovering just level so that she was still in position to be fucked, so that it never needed to stop using her. God, she never wanted it to stop using her…

Carefully, vaguely up and down in time with its continuing thrusts, the Gore Magala flipped Madison over, pivoted her on its cock, and she gasped out loud at the differing sensation of the wyvern’s erection rotating inside her. Some distant part of her mind recognized that she was still getting fucked in the ass too, which suggested that the secondary cock had moved with her, either rotated itself or wrapped slightly around the Magala’s main trunk to follow the tight little hole it was embedded in. It as a detail she retained, but in the moment it was so unimportant, blotted out by the delightful new surprise the wyvern had provided her.

She lay in the Gore Magala’s hands, her back curved slightly as she let gravity weigh her down, legs and arms dangling over the sides of the immense paw. Bouncing with every thrust, tits jiggling and eyes staring up into the black bulk above, every little movement caused new scratches. The Magala’s claws had curved inward as a way of keeping Madison stable despite the sheer force of their fucking, and the dagger-like points of its talons rested against her belly, tracing sharp red lines on her white skin, new points of pain to mingle and fuse with the constant pressure of arousal and ecstasy that filled the entirety of her frame. When she shivered and squirmed at the merest scratch, the Magala paused for a moment, and then brought the claws of its other wing-hand to bear, running them experimentally down what exposed space there was at her back.

Madison couldn’t help but encourage this.

This was the first time that Madison could say with conviction that the wyvern was explicitly engaging with her; its other actions could, if she was committed to that conclusion, be pinned on simple instinct, but this? There was no reason for it to act this way, to run its talons down her back and shift her in its grip so that they could complete the journey from the nape of her neck to the cleft of her ass, other than in direct reaction to her pleasure. No other reason for it to continue scoring her flesh with its claws as it fucked her, shifting her to any one of three hands in use at any one time, keeping her upright just to run those talons across her and hear her gasp and tighten around its cock in response. Every new scratch made her cunt grip the wyvern all the harder, something it took to with great apparent pleasure.

Certainly, there was no reason why, as one claw clipped the edge of Madison’s nipple, causing an actual cry to breach her throat and echo throughout the cave, the Magala’s tongue uncoiled from its mouth and, with head lowered and teeth glinting, ran around that same nipple, very much like a lover’s tongue would.

Her back arched, tight as a bow, hard and fast and automatic, reaching for that slithering touch even as her body had only just begun screaming for more. The wyvern’s tongue curled around first one nipple, then the other, pausing for the shudder of pleasure that ran through Madison when it did. Seemingly committed now, the Gore Magala kept its tongue against her chest, sweeping across that sensitive area, flicking at her nipples, tasting the sweat between her breasts, venturing down to play over the scratches on her stomach occasionally. Madison’s skin was quickly sticky and sensitive, her body writhing under the pressure of so many different sensations; the scratching claws, the fucking cocks, the licking tongue…

It was no wonder she came as quickly as she did.

The orgasm ripped through her, filled her up in the space of a second. Madison shrieked as ecstasy climbed her spine like a bolt of lightning, her entire body tightening, muscles pulling inward as her hips became the quaking, aching, drenched center of her being. She trembled and shook, and the wyvern simply continued to fuck her as it watched her come, its ceaseless thrusts extending the moment of climax, forcing Maddie to ride wave after wave of agonizing gratification, each one sharper and stronger than the last, reducing her in time to a state of panting, twitching delirium, held up entirely by the wyvern’s claws.

She came back to reality slowly, her limbs still shaking with the aftershocks of orgasm, her head lolling back over the edge of the wyvern’s claw as it used her for its pleasure. Her climax had done little to abate the Magala’s pace, and Maddie returned to find herself bouncing still, filled to the brim with hot wyvern cock. Below her, out the corner of her eye, she saw the swilling mass of black scales, thicker on the ground now, whirling as though agitated by something.

By her.

Slowly, still consumed on every level by fucking her, the Magala lowered her bucking body down, into the mist, and Madison had time to realize that it was now high enough to completely subsume her before the wyvern pressed her down, submerged her in blackness. The rational part of her mind- the slowly dwindling part, she had to admit- told her that this was cause for panic, that the scales caused the Frenzy, that being immersed in them was dangerous… but if she struggled, the Magala might withdraw from her, might leave her here, below the curtain of mist, naked and unfulfilled. She couldn’t even imagine it.

Besides, she didn’t feel frenzied. As more and more scales poured onto the cavern floor, Madison felt her skin fizz as they touched her, becoming more and more sensitive the longer she stayed beneath the roiling canopy. There was no point in attempting to avoid it; the Magala could easily keep her down here if it so desired, and when its cock touched a particularly sensitive place inside her, Madison gasped, no doubt inhaling the mist as it flowed and fluttered around her. If she was going to get frenzied, it would have already happened, but that wasn’t what she was feeling. Instead, she felt… lightheaded, aroused in a way she hadn’t been before, desire rushing higher, filling every corner of her mind in a way that it hadn’t before, even when she came. The bedrock assumption that she had retained before this, that she would get up and leave the cave once all this was over, began to fade and erode; why would she ever want to leave the Gore Magala and its wonderful cock?

Through the darkness of the mist, through the scales the wyvern used to perceive her, Madison saw her skin changing color, veins stained a deep purple that spread outward the longer she lingered among the fog, multiple sources stretching across that pale, naked expanse like a bruise. Her nipples tightened, skin flushed and sticky as it changed, and as the dark color sped up and conquered the last few inches of her, a spark struck and her body was aflame with pleasure. She came, suddenly and powerfully, the force of it knocking the breath from her lungs, her muscles immediately aching from the tension as they contracted and shook. Thirty seconds passed, then a minute, then two, and still Madison came. It became her new baseline, intense and unconnected with the Magala’s fucking; each thrust became a spike of pleasure, a new peak layered atop the sustained, endless climax burning through her shuddering, tiny frame.

Two minutes became three, then four, then five, and nothing changed. As the last of Madison’s coherent thoughts gave way under the unyielding grip of the orgasm, she realized:

This wasn’t Frenzy. It was Lust. Whoever said that the Magala’s scales only had one purpose?

It was then that the Gore Magala came, howl echoing off of the cave walls, wings flowing open and beating at the air as the first blisteringly hot jet of cum shot into Maddie’s pulsing, still orgasming pussy. As the fog of scales parted and scattered to the far ends of the cave beneath the wind that resulted, the wyvern physically lifted off, airborne as it filled Madison up, cradling her squirming form in its hands as the wings flapped, pushed them higher. They stayed aloft as the monster came, Madison gripped within tightly held talons, still tense and in the grips of her own climax, as thick wyvern cum rushed to fill the available space in her pussy, dripping out down the curve of her ass to fall to the cavern floor.

Still shuddering, both wyvern and woman descended back to the ground, and at the rush of the Gore Magala’s sperm, Madison’s orgasm finally began to fade, though slowly, to be replaced by a subtle, allover ache, rippling occasionally with tiny twinges of pleasure that made her gasp and shiver anew. As its rear legs came to rest upon the floor, the wyvern pulled Madison off of its cock and deposited her, covered in scratches, bruised in places that would hurt for days, sheened in sweat and disheveled as though she had just been tossed off a cliff, to the ground. A puddle of wyvern semen below her, Madison’s skin remained that vivid purple, marked by some process of the Gore Magala’s mating routine, changed and made receptive to pleasure in a way she never had been before. Almost instantly, her hands flew to her cunt, just to stroke her clit, to feel pleasure, under some compulsion to experience this, to avoid being without stimulation.

Under the spell of the Gore Magala…

Her legs were still so weak, Madison knew they wouldn’t hold her, even if she could muster the will to stand. To not stay here, nuzzled by the hard scales of the wyvern’s muzzle, warmed by its breath and aroused by its still throbbing cock, dripping with the last evidence of their sex. To… to walk away from what she had found here.

And so she stayed.

She stayed for a week, in the end, living bestially with the Gore Magala, serving as its sex toy the entire time. Her clothes remained safely packed away outside the cave, the thought of dressing far from Madison’s mind, and she and the wyvern rutted over and over, whenever it desired. Growing familiar with its vocalizations, Madison found herself responding to what amounted to a series of orders; a rough, low growl ascending into a grunt at the end had her rolling onto all fours and raising her ass into the air for the creature. A snap of its teeth, after an initial few instances of more direct guidance following it, led her down between the Gore Magala’s legs, for it had demanded a blowjob. When it ran its tongue over her, she knew to stand and allow it to lift her, moving her over its cock before pushing in.

Sometimes, between hunting trips, the wyvern would roll onto its back and rest in a somnolent heap, and Madison would clamber up the creature’s bulk to find its cock and lower herself down upon it, riding the Gore Magala to wakefulness and a shuddering, gasping shared climax. Everything she did was focused entirely around pleasing the monster, and finding her pleasure in it, in turn.

But slowly, the newfound tint to her skin faded, as the mist worked its way out of Madison’s system and returned her to her usual self. As this happened, the constant, aching lust began to disappear, her receptiveness to the Magala’s ministrations fell back to normal, away from the hypersensitivity that the creature’s scales had stoked within her. Maddie’s mind came back to her, laden down with the expectations of the society she had left behind, a whole life that she had been prepared to risk on exactly this adventure, that still existed out beyond this cave.

She had to leave. She had to return. After a week of subsisting on cave mushrooms and bathing in the trickling waterfall at the back of the Magala’s cave entrance, after a week of constant nudity and sleeping in dirt, it was time to go. What was downright pleasurable under the effect of the Gore Magala’s sex mist- which Madison thought to be a lust drug designed to keep mated pairs of Gore Magalas together to ensure fertilization, now that she was free of it- was unacceptable once the rapture of it had faded. The next time the immense wyvern curled up to sleep, Madison crept back to the crack she had entered the cave through, what seemed like an eon ago, and slipped out into the outside air, just before dawn.

But there was one final thing she had to do, one more precious item she had commissioned, to go along with the Attraction Armor.

Digging it out from her pack, Madison slipped back into the cave, still naked, and stood at the entrance, the mist of scales washing around her ankles. It never truly went away, during all the time she had stayed here, but it had never again been so thick as it had been right before the Gore Magala’s orgasm. Still, she pulled out the stopper of the little phial she had brought in, bent low, and scooped up some of the mist, which swirled through the liquid present at the bottom of the glass like ink in water. Maddie spent a moment examining the sample she had taken after re-sealing the bottle, smiling to herself as she tapped the glass and watched the scales swirl and retract from her fingers as if still alive. Palming it, she returned to the outside and began dragging her clothes on.

The trouble was time. The Gore Magala’s scales, distilled as a mist, were frighteningly short-lived individually; they burnt out and vanished within a few minutes, if left alone. Without an actual wyvern to refresh it, the mist itself would simply fade away in its wake, which made sense, since the scales were a sense organ and the Magala didn’t need to sense the things well behind it. But it did make transporting the mist a challenge, one that had been solved with the invention of these bottles, filled with a chemical compound in which the scales could be suspended and artificially kept alive for long enough to be chemically treated to stay that way permanently.

Madison had very particular designs on these scales, belonging as they did to her Gore Magala…

She had to wait until daytime to get what she wanted, which afforded Madison enough time to clean herself up after her extended vacation living as a cave monster. When she left her home and headed back to those fateful blacksmiths of hers, Maddie looked like a young woman again, and not the tangle-haired wild child that had wandered into town in the wee hours of the morning. Despite all the fun she had had, it was satisfying to be a human being once more, with soft clothes and real food and… not a constant chorus of wyvern roars.

‘I want you to make this into a collar,’ Madison said, upon slipping through her blacksmiths’ door and stood before the pair, surrounded by shields and swords and rows of armored mannequins, sparing a glance for the back room, hidden by a black curtain, where the three of them had spent so much time meticulously constructing her armor.

‘You’re still alive. My armor must have worked, then,’ The blacksmith of the pair grunted, as his chemist partner grinned in the background. ‘Have fun, did you?’

‘Yes,’ Madison said, fully aware of the emphasis she had put into the word. ‘And now I’d like you to forge a collar.’

‘Gore Magala scales, eh?’ The blacksmith eyes the bottle she proffered. ‘Yeah, I can do that. Who’s the collar for?’



It had been a passing fancy, something that Madison had wanted to try without necessarily knowing it if would work. But it had worked, which was a delightful turn of events, a wonderful bonus on top of the initial adventure.

The collar had glinted a dark purple at her neck, so deep it was almost black, and Madison wore it at all times. Once she had first clipped it around her throat, she never wanted to take it off; soft and comfortable, it signified something, without words, that Madison had longed for ever since she had first seen the Gore Magala in all its glory. It allowed the wyvern to sense her at all times, to recognize her when she re-entered its lair on the day the collar had been completed, to see her slip into the cave, to watch as she stripped out of her clothes and laid them carefully at the entrance, and to be facing her as she knelt before it, and offered herself to him, day after day.

Madison now had a link to her Gore Magala, a persistent string connecting the two of them no matter where she was. A mark of ownership, one wyvern to his lusty little fucktoy. He could see her, and she could reach up to touch the collar and, in some small way, touch him too. The path from her home to his cave became well worn and committed to memory, a journey she took at least once a week, so often that the people of the town she left and returned to began to take notice. It wasn’t long before someone figured out where she was going, and for what purpose, and that was fine; Maddie never meant for it to be a secret. Let them know; why would she hide something that gave her such fulfillment?

They gave her a name, however. One that began its life being spoken in whispers, behind Maddie’s back, up until the day she first heard it for herself. Her delight had legitimized the moniker, to an extent, and thus the people who were inclined not to treat the name as a negative felt free to say it aloud, to say it to her face, where it was always answered with a smile. Madison wore her new title with pride, felt her chest swell happily whenever she heard it, and she even told the wyvern of it, whispered it as they basked in post-coital exhaustion one afternoon, although she was fairly sure it didn’t understand it.

She was called “The Magala’s Harlot.”