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The first time she was allowed to attend a gladiator fight in the Coliseum, she was fourteen. Even now, years later, fragments of that strange day remain vivid in her mind.
She remembered the feel of her tunic—a royal light blue that shimmered softly under the sunlight. A golden waistband cinched the fabric at her waist, keeping it from fluttering in the breeze that drifted through the open arches of the arena.
Around her neck hung a single golden pendant, an elegant piece her mother had gifted her for her eighth birthday.
Her mother, the princess, had held her hand tightly that entire day, from the moment they stepped into the carriage to when the last fight ended.
She knew her mother didn’t approve of her being there; it was clear in the way her brows knit together with each step toward the Coliseum.
But her grandmother, the Empress, had insisted.
“She is old enough”, the Empress had said.
“It is time for her to understand this part of our culture, to see what the Dragon Empire is built upon.”
When they finally arrived, they were escorted up to the royal podium, a grand space shaded by a marble canopy held aloft by towering, circular columns.
The canopy cast a cool shadow over them, sheltering them from the harsh sunlight that blazed down on the arena below.
She took her seat beside her mother, who glanced at her often, her gaze wary and watchful, as though trying to read every flicker of her expression, every shift in her posture.
The arena was alive with noise, filled to the brim with citizens whose cheers and chatter mingled in a chaotic symphony of anticipation.
Just as the noise reached a fever pitch, a thunderous noise of trumpets rang out, echoing through the stone walls and silencing the crowd.
The show was about to begin.
The program for that event was easy.
The first part was all about execution, where traitors, deserters, and the worst criminals the capital had to offer were fed alive to wild monsters.
Many of these creatures roamed the lands, especially on the outskirts of forests and around the most deserted places. Adventurers and hunters were paid handsomely to capture these abominations alive for these events.
Of that part of the show, she didn’t remember much, as her mother covered her eyes before the first drop of blood could touch the sand of the arena court.
The only memories were the screams and the distinct noise of torn-apart flesh.
The next pieces were mostly of the main event: the gladiator fights.
Males, most of them slaves, fought to the death just to live another day.
Most of the duels were in pairs, where only one usually survived.
The rules were simple: just bare claws, fangs, and body.
No armor, no weapons, and no magic whatsoever, as slaves weren’t allowed to use their elements, not even in the arena, special mana-draining collars were used to ensure this.
The fights went on and on; bodies kept being dragged out of the arena, and winners were acclaimed by the cheering audience.
Sometimes her mother, as the princess, or most of the times, a handmaid of the empress would descend the podium to bring a laurel wreath to the winning gladiator.
All of this, a blur of images and sounds in Cynder’s mind.
The most vivid memory was the following one: the first new duelist, a burly earth dragon in his twenties stepping on the sand with the applause of the arena, while the second one appeared from the opposite entrance.
A lean and young, definitely a teen, purple dragon.
Purple dragons were not from the mainland of the empire, as far as she knew. They were a rare breed for sure, coming from lands far away at the edge of the Imperium.
She could see from there how scared he was, his tail fidgeting behind him, moving the sand on the ground.
“Mother, since when we’re letting children fight in the arena?”Asked her mother to the Empress.
Her grandmother didn’t spare the princess a glance, her eyes trained on the scene before her.
“There’s is not an age limit to the contestants, it’s given to the good sense of their owner.”
She then turned to look at her.
“The kid’s must be either confident or extremely desperate.”She said with a grin.
“You’re not going to let a child get murdered, right?”Inquired her mother.
“A male, slave, teen, his life is worth as much as the guy who bought him paid.”Replied the Empress.
“If he fights well, I might have him spared.”She said, her tone unserious.
Her mother’s tail twitched behind her as she was about to retort.
“Control yourself, Reyra.”Scolded her grandmother.
“He’s barely older than my daughter.”She said, squeezing a bit Cynder’s hand.
“He’s inferior, an object for our entertainment. Don’t get yourself influenced by things that matter as the dirt beneath our sandals.”Replied sternly the Empress.
“He will die, or he will live as any other gladiator of this arena: proving his worth.”Concluded her grandmother, turning her gaze back to the arena, where the fight already had begun and the first blood was mixed with the sand.
The pace of the duel was extremely quick, the earth dragon was relentlessly attacking the young purple dragon with all he had and managed to nick him multiple times as red blood covered the amethyst scales.
Still, the youngster was pretty agile and managed to avoid most of the slashes of his opponent, for he surely knew that getting hit would mean death.
The boy’s luck eventually ran out as he found himself with his back against the arena wall just below the royal podium.
Cynder stood up, scared for him.
With a grin, the earth dragon swiped horizontally, just where the boy’s head was. The purple dragon ducked low, and in a blur, angled his horns to hit the opponent’s face, pushing himself forward.
Something round and bloody flew out from the clash.
A loud and pained scream pierced the noise of the audience as the earth dragon staggered back, clutching his face.
The purple dragon, probably in a frenzy due to the adrenaline in his blood, spun on himself, whipping his tail blade against his opponent at full speed, slashing deeply the dragon's torso.
The earth dragon blinded by his own blood spilling from his eye socket could only receive the onslaught, then fall on his knees, bloody and wounded.
There was a moment of silence in the arena as the scene unfolded, and what was going to happen was clear.
Some screams of anger lifted from the audience, probably people who bet on earth dragon as the winner.
The purple dragon looked up at the podium, his amethyst eyes crossed her gaze for an instant, before focusing on the Empress and following with a bow.
The crowd was now silent again, waiting for their leader's response to his question: should he spare his adversary?
The elder black dragoness stood up from her throne and walked to the edge of the podium, her right arm extended in front of her, hand curled in a fist, just with a thumb out, parallel to the ground.
Cynder saw a grin color her grandmother’s face, as her thumb fell down.
It was death then.
The purple dragon bowed again, before spinning again on his legs, his tail blade whipped fast, splashing a cloud of blood into the air as he slashed the earth’s dragon throat.
The boy didn’t turn to look at the corpse fell down.
The crowd erupted in a thunderous cheer as the lifeless body of the earth dragon hit the sand.
Cynder stood there looking at the scene, enthralled.
She felt numb, but the only thing she could do was to look at the purple dragon, his scales covered in cuts and scratches, blood and sand.
“Cynder” She heard a strong voice call her.
She snapped out of her trance-like state.
“Yes, grandmother?”She replied promptly
“Go down there, give the laurel wreath to the winner.”She said, pointing at a servant holding said item on a golden circular tray.
“Mother?!”Tried to protest Reyra, but the Empress silenced her with a gesture of her hand.
“Go, don’t keep the crowd waiting.”She ordered.
Cynder nodded, and less than two minutes later, her sandals touched for the first time the sand of the arena. She walked directly to him, followed suit by the servant with the tray.
In noticing her closing in, the boy fell on one knee, rather unceremoniously. Fatigue evidently crept through his frame.
The servant stopped a step behind her. Cynder turned and picked the wreath from the tray, she then faced the boy and nestled the laurel between his golden horns.
“What’s your name?”She asked, her voice covered by the noise of the crowd.
The boy did not dare to look up at her.
“Spyro…” Came his voice, ragged with exertion and pain.
“Then rise, Spyro.” She commanded, her voice stern even if high-pitched.
The boy did so and the crowd clamored again.
That wasn’t the last time that she saw Spyro win, and a couple of times she almost saw him die.
Fortunately, her grandmother, maybe also noticing her soft spot for him, spared him on both those occasions.
But then, six years later, when she was twenty, something unexpected happened.
Something that threatened to shake the Empire from its solid foundations.
Her grandmother, the Empress, died suddenly.
The true reason was never really understood. Many suggested that she was somewhat poisoned or cursed.
The empress was barely eighty or so years old, and considering that a dragon's life expectancy was around two hundred years, her death was considered an anomaly.
The court healers and the royal guard conducted all the analyses and investigations they could. Using the most skilled magic adepts to track any sign of curses, poisons, or any type of substance that could have been used.
In the end, they found absolutely nothing. The case was closed as a natural, and unfortunate death.
During this turbulent time, the stability of the royal crown hung by a thread, threatened on all sides by opportunists eager to exploit the chaos.
The sudden upheaval had created a frenzy, and vultures circled, ready to strike at the slightest hint of weakness.
Her mother, Reyra, was crowned the new Empress by the Council of the Provinces, and with great wit and wisdom, she fought against these predators of the crown, expelling nobles and changing important charges in the Empire administration.
After the period of turmoil, the new Empress had emerged as a favorite among the people acclaimed and respected by the masses despite some of her bold, progressive, and often unpopular decisions.
Under her rule, changes began to make their way through the empire.
She enacted new laws that subtly shifted the rigid status quo, improving the lives of slaves in modest but meaningful ways.
For the first time, slaves were granted the right to own personal possessions, however limited, and a decree was passed mandating that they be provided with at least one meal a day.
Though they were still regarded as living tools by the upper classes, these reforms were a tentative first step toward a better existence for one of the largest portions of the capital’s population.
In fact, according to the royal census, for every free citizen, there was at least one slave.
Most slaves belonged to the "lesser folk”, a term the dragons used to refer dismissively to non-draconic species, such as wolves, cheetahs, and other so-called “beasts."
Only a small fraction of slaves were dragons, preserving a divide that reinforced draconic superiority and subjugated other species.
In all this twisting political climate, Cynder was now the crown princess of the Empire. And in that exact moment, she was sitting again, like all those years ago, beside her mother in the coliseum, looking at the show, now with interest instead of disgust.
She was there to see her favorite gladiator, after all, but more than anything, she hoped she wouldn’t have to watch him die.
But as the show unfolded, with each brutal clash and every victorious roar, his name was never called.
Fight after fight, the announcer made no mention of the purple dragon she so eagerly awaited.
A frown began to settle on her face, her brows knitting with quiet frustration, a look that didn’t escape her mother’s attention.
“You’re wondering where your favorite gladiator is?” Her mother said, her tone filled with a knowing amusement.
The princess glanced at her mother, startled. “How did you know?”
The Empress sighed, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Because it’s the only reason you still come to these shows, isn’t it?”
Cynder’s cheeks flushed, but before she could answer, her mother continued. “As far as I know… he’s been granted his freedom.”
Cynder blinked, astonished. “Free? As in, a citizen?”
“Yes.” The Empress waved a hand dismissively as if the matter were of no consequence. “I don’t know why, and frankly, I don’t care. But from what I hear, he’s now employed to train the other gladiators.”
Cynder’s frown softened. The idea of him roaming freely, no longer bound to the sands, felt like a strange but welcome surprise. “Thank you, Mother,” she murmured, glancing back at the arena with a renewed sense of calm.
The Empress only offered a nonchalant nod, turning her attention back to the spectacle below. Cynder’s gaze lingered on the sands, her mind racing with this new knowledge, the battles below seemed distant, as if her thoughts had already left the arena entirely.
When the show concluded, she motioned for a pair of guards to follow her toward the gladiator barracks, her eyes sharp with purpose as she sought out the dragon she had come to find.
As she approached the imposing stone structure, the keeper's reaction was immediate: his eyes widened, nearly bulging from their sockets as he registered who had just arrived.
Stumbling over himself, he dropped into a deep bow, his voice laced with deference as he gestured for her and her entourage to enter.
The interior of the barracks was… decadent, in the most decrepit of ways.
The air was thick and stale, heavy with the smell of sweat, blood, and earth.
Bare stone walls loomed around them, etched with crude carvings and graffiti scrawled by countless warriors who had passed through these halls.
Some markings were names; others were fierce symbols, curses, or scratched prayers to distant gods.
She swept past the main foyer, as her steps and the ones of her guards echoed in the wide halls.
Each step took her deeper into the heart of the barracks, where the clamor of voices grew louder.
The guards flanked her, keeping a careful eye on the surroundings.
Finally, they stepped into the main training hall, a vast space that was not dissimilar from the structure of the Coliseum arena.
The hall stretched out in a long rectangular shape, its floor blanketed with a thick layer of sand that muffled the footfalls of the warriors and absorbed the impact of their training.
Overhead, the ceiling opened to the sky, allowing the sunlight to pour in.
The hall was lined with rows of sturdy wooden stands, each holding a battered training mannequin.
In front of every mannequin, a trainee stood, focused, practicing strikes, stances, and maneuvers.
She couldn’t help but grin at the sight, as all the gladiators wore the same minimal attire they donned in the arena: simple leather or cloth loincloths that left most of their bodies exposed, displaying the scars and muscles.
Amid the clamor of training, grunts, the thud of fists hitting dummies, and the scrape of sand shifting underfoot, her eyes finally caught a glimpse of what she had been searching for.
A flash of purple scales stood out amidst the sea of the colors of the pelts of the lesser species and the more traditional draconic scales' colorations.
She felt her heart quicken as she focused her gaze, a hint of anticipation lighting up her face.
The purple dragon was moving purposefully among the trainees.
But the moment his eyes met hers, he froze, his expression briefly unreadable.
Then, recovering swiftly, he raised an arm, his voice cutting through the clamor.
"Everyone!" he called.
Instantly, silence fell. The grunts of effort, and shifting sand faded into a hush, replaced only by the labored breaths of the trainees.
The tension was palpable as every gaze followed his, turning to land on the figure of the Princess.
"Bow to our Princess," he commanded.
She saw every head turn in her direction, before all the gladiators fell to one knee, in a similar way as Spyro did the first time she met him.
The purple drake instead limited himself to a deep bow, as was allowed to all free citizens.
Beside her, her two draconic guards stood taller and rigid.
“Please, rise and return to your training.”She said, and everyone did so. The noise that was echoing before in the hall now returned, just a tad softer.
Spyro, meanwhile, began to walk in her direction, as it was customary.
Once in front of her, he bowed again.
Differently from the trainees, he was dressed in a sleeveless black cloth tunic, and a simple leather belt was looped around his waist.
"Your Grace, what brings you here?" Spyro asked, his voice low and composed, though a trace of curiosity flickered in his gaze.
"I actually came to see you," She replied, her tone soft but direct.
"Is there a place where we can talk privately?"
He blinked, momentarily taken aback by her words.
"I… yes, of course," he managed, regaining his composure quickly.
"There’s the pool room, which is empty and clean at the moment, Your Grace. Please, follow me." He turned on his heels, leading her through a side corridor that branched off from the training hall.
They walked in silence, the distant sounds of training fading behind them, until they entered a spacious rectangular chamber.
The room was dominated by a large pool at its center, its still, clear waters reflecting the faint patterns of light streaming from narrow windows high above.
Along the edges of the room, a slender arcade ran, lined with old, crusted columns that had once gleamed but now bore the weight of time and neglect. Stone benches lay against the walls, and semi-circular tables, worn smooth by age, rested nearby, giving the place an air of quiet solitude.
Spyro guided her to one of the better-kept tables, inspecting the surface briefly before dusting it off with a clawed hand. With a respectful bow and a gesture, he indicated the spot for her to sit. "Here, Your Grace."
She nodded in appreciation, her gaze briefly meeting his before turning to her guards. "You may wait at the entrance," she ordered.
The guards exchanged a glance before inclining their heads and stepping back to take their posts by the door.
She took her seat, the cool stone beneath her a stark contrast to the warmth lingering in the air. Spyro remained standing, respectfully poised, waiting for her to speak.
“Please, take a seat.”His brows raised for a split second before he obeyed and sat in front of her, keeping his distance.
“I came here to bring my congratulations for your newly acquired freedom, Spyro.”She said.
A smile formed on his lips as his gaze fell down, embarrassment creeping up to his face.
“Ah yes. Thank you, your Highness.”
“If I may ask, for what reason have you been granted freedom?”She asked.
Spyro hesitated for a moment.
“Well, it’s a rather peculiar story,” he began.
“My ex-owner, Terrus, I believe you know him, wasn’t particularly keen on releasing me. However, I was… let’s say I was his wife’s favorite.”There was a slight, almost imperceptible pause, as though he were carefully choosing his words, evidently attempting to evade discussing motivations and other topics.
Cynder raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more left unsaid, but she held her silence, letting him continue.
“So, when they discovered that they had inherited a substantial plot of land in the province of Avalar, they simply packed their bags and left.”
"Mistress Leyna, Terrus's wife, personally brought me to the court, registered my name in the citizens' records, and broke my collar." He lifted a hand to his neck, fingers grazing the spot where the enchanted metal band used to bite into his scales.
The gesture was almost unconscious, but it spoke volumes of the years he had spent bound by it.
“She claimed it was a reward for all the years of my…services…let’s just say,” he concluded, looking down at the table.
Cynder studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "I see..." she finally replied, her tone soft, though whether it was out of sympathy or mere acknowledgment, even Spyro couldn’t tell.
A brief silence settled between them.
Spyro, ever mindful of his place, quickly straightened himself and forced a polite smile.
“Why are you still working here?”She then asked.
“Ah, well, I… don’t have really a place to go, your Majesty. The only thing I’m good at is fighting so I might as well keep doing it. Without risking my life if possible”He said sheepishly.
“The pay is not high, but it’s enough to cover rent, eat every day and maybe concede myself some treats sometimes…”He continued.
Again, silence fell between the two.
“Your Highness, may I ask you a question?”He then tried.
Cynder’s eyes widened a bit in curiosity.
"Yes, please, do tell," she encouraged, her tone softer now, almost inviting.
Spyro hesitated, shifting his weight as though suddenly uncomfortable under the words of his own question.
He cleared his throat, his voice barely a murmur. "Ahem... Why are you... interested in me at all? I mean, I’m just an ex-slave now. I’m a nobody.”
He dared to meet her gaze for the briefest moment, his amethyst eyes searching hers before quickly looking away as if the act itself was too bold.
Cynder held his gaze longer than necessary, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she were searching for something deeper within him.
The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken thoughts.
Truthfully, even she wasn't entirely sure of the answer herself.
"The first time I saw you," she began slowly, her voice thoughtful, as though she were piecing the memory together in real-time, "was all those years ago in the Coliseum. I remember it vividly. There was a moment when our eyes met."
She paused, letting the memory flood back, and for a moment, she was no longer in the pool room but back in the royal balcony, looking down at a young dragon in the pit below. "You were down there in the arena’s pit, surrounded by sand and blood. I was high above, perched in the luxury of the royal box. We were worlds apart physically, and socially. And yet… despite that vast distance, I felt something, a... connection."
Her voice softened further, becoming almost a whisper as she continued. "Your eyes... they were filled with fear that day. But there was something else too…something stronger. Determination. A fierce will to survive, no matter the odds. It was like looking into a mirror that reflected not just fear, but also courage. That’s what drew me to you."
Spyro listened in stunned silence, his eyes widening slightly as he absorbed her words. He had never imagined she had seen him that way, never imagined that, from so high above, she could have noticed anything beyond the spectacle he was forced to be a part of.
"Someone so determined, so young, and so bright," she continued, her voice now tinged with a quiet intensity, "didn't deserve, in my eyes, to be fighting for his life simply for the entertainment of others. You stood out to me, not just as a gladiator, but as someone who was more than the chains that bound him."
Spyro could only look at her, his disbelief palpable.
For a long moment, he was utterly speechless, his mouth slightly open as if searching for words that simply wouldn’t come.
Finally, he managed to speak, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I... I really don’t know what to say…Your Highness” he said, shaking his head as though to clear the fog of his own disbelief.
“There’s nothing you have to say.”She replied.
"Alas, I think my time for today has come to an end. I must leave you," Cynder said, rising gracefully from her seat. The moment she stood, her guards, ever vigilant, moved swiftly to her side, their heavy steps echoing through the chamber.
Spyro stood as well, instinctively stepping back to maintain a respectful distance. His eyes followed her movements, a mixture of formality and something softer lingering in his gaze.
"Well, this is goodbye then," she continued, her voice softer now, almost reluctant. "Thank you for dedicating some of your time to me.”
There was a sincerity in her tone that caught Spyro off guard, making him wonder if this meeting had meant more to her than he had initially assumed.
"It has been an honor to speak with you, Your Grace," he replied, bowing deeply, just as he had done when she first arrived.
Cynder paused, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary.
"I'm sure we will see each other again," she said, a faint, enigmatic smile touching her lips. The kind of smile that suggested there were things left unsaid, plans yet unspoken.
"You know where to find me, Your Highness," Spyro responded, his voice steady, though a flicker of something hopeful passed through his expression.
"Very well," she said with a nod, her smile lingering as she turned away.
The fabric of her royal tunic whispered softly against the stone floor as she walked, her guards falling into step behind her.
He watched her until she disappeared behind the door.
Spyro couldn’t stop thinking about the encounter with the princess. It all lingered in his mind, like a shadow that refused to fade.
Even as the day wore on and his duties piled up, his thoughts kept drifting back to her.
By the time he returned to his modest apartment, not too far from the barracks and the looming structure of the Coliseum, he felt the full weight of exhaustion settle heavily on his shoulders.
The tension he had held at bay all day long now came crashing down, leaving him drained and weary.
But Spyro had long learned how to deal with such burdens. He knew just the perfect way to unwind and release the pent-up tension.
Without wasting a moment, he stripped off his worn work tunic, the fabric heavy with dust and sweat, and slipped into a lighter, older sand-colored one that felt soft and familiar against his scales.
The change in attire was a small comfort, a transition from duty to something more personal.
He grabbed his coin satchel and emptied its contents into a small wooden chest tucked into the corner of his room.
The chest was plain, its hinges creaky, but it held all the savings he had carefully accumulated over the years. He counted out three silver coins, letting them clink softly into his palm, and added a few bronze pieces for good measure. Satisfied, he secured the empty satchel back at his belt, then locked the chest with a small, rusted key that he always kept hidden beneath a loose floor tile.
With a deep breath, he stepped outside.
The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of the ocean from the distant docks. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that slowly deepened into dusk. The streets were beginning to empty, most citizens retreating to their homes or the nearest taverns, but Spyro had no intention of sleeping in his bed that night. His feet moved with a sense of purpose, following a familiar route through the winding alleyways of the city.
Twenty minutes later, he found himself standing in front of a grand, albeit slightly weathered building. The establishment was known for its reputation, both whispered and spoken openly among the city’s patrons.
The façade was adorned with faded banners and flickering lanterns that cast a warm, inviting glow, drawing in those who sought a temporary escape from their daily struggles.
A few patrons, both men and women, lingered outside, exchanging quiet laughter and knowing glances.
Spyro pushed open the heavy wooden door, stepping into a richly adorned foyer where the scent of incense and perfumes immediately enveloped him.
The air was thick with the hum of conversation, punctuated by soft laughter and the clinking of glasses. His sandals brushed over intricately woven carpets, their once-bright colors now dulled by countless footsteps, and the fine wooden floors beneath creaked softly as he made his way deeper into the establishment.
The space was both opulent and worn, the kind of place that spoke of faded grandeur.
Gilded frames and velvet drapes adorned the walls, though some edges were frayed, telling tales of better days long past.
At the far end of the room stood the reception counter, where a familiar figure stood with her back to him.
He came to a stop in front of the worn wooden surface, noticing the small tin bell that sat on the counter, slightly tarnished but still functional.
He reached out and rang it, the clear chime cutting through the ambient noise of the room.
“Hello, welcome to… Spyro! My dear, how are you?”Exclaimed the dragoness behind the counter.
The figure before him was a middle-aged fire dragoness, her scales a striking combination of fiery red and bone white, perfectly reflecting her elemental affinity.
She was an impressive sight, adorned with a dazzling array of golden trinkets that glimmered in the dim light of the room.
Delicate chains looped around her elegant neck and spiraled gracefully down her biceps, while rings adorned her claws and intricate bracelets clinked softly with every slight movement she made.
A particularly intricate gold piece hung between her horns, swaying gently as she turned her head, catching the light in a dazzling display.
With each subtle shift of her body, the golden adornments produced a soft, melodic clinking, a sound that seemed to fill the room, complementing the low murmur of conversation around them.
The dragoness wore only a long, flowing black loincloth tied snugly around her generous waist, the fabric cascading down to nearly graze the floor, while the rest of her body was completely uncovered.
In this society, nudity, particularly female nudity, was not seen as taboo.
On the contrary, it was almost celebrated as a status symbol, a testament to a female’s vitality, fertility, and capacity to enrich the species.
It was a way of demonstrating her potential to produce healthy, strong hatchlings, who could carry forward the greatness of the empire.
However, this openness was not entirely unrestricted.
While nudity was commonplace, there were unspoken rules depending on the setting.
In many public environments, complete nudity, especially genital exposure, was typically avoided, except in certain unique situations. One such exception was the case of male slaves. Unlike their female counterparts, male dragons had retractable genital organs that remained hidden unless they were aroused, making their natural state of undress more acceptable.
Among dragonesses, it was customary, particularly in private or semi-private settings, to reveal at least one breast as a symbol of status and confidence.
This practice was especially prevalent among the elite, where it was a mark of sophistication and wealth.
In private spaces, however, dragons embraced full nudity for the sake of comfort and freedom. It was a common sight to see dragonesses and drakes alike completely unclothed within the privacy of their own homes.
The unclothed body in such intimate settings was not a matter of scandal, but rather, a return to their natural state, an embrace of the ease and simplicity that defined their private lives. So, it was far more unusual to find a dragon dressed at all when within the comfort of their own residence, where layers of fabric were exchanged for the luxury of natural comfort.
Spyro smiled at the dragoness.
“Hi Seka, I’m good, how’s been going here?”He replied.
“Ah, the usual chaos,” she replied with a light laugh, leaning slightly closer as she spoke. “There’s never a shortage of work to keep me busy.” As she bent over the counter, her silhouette was beautifully framed against the wood, drawing his attention momentarily.
“You’re here for the usual?”Asked a dragoness with a knowing smile.
“You know me too well Seka.”He said with a small grin.
The dragoness smile widened.
“Then off you go, you know the way to the room, Ember will be there waiting for you.”She said, straightening up.
“Thank you, I’ll see you in the morning?”He said, directing towards two thick red curtains separating the foyer from the rest of the building.
“For sure, I’m always here darling.”She winked at him.
Spyro eventually disappeared behind the curtains.
As they fell back into place, he found himself enveloped in a familiar dimly lit corridor.
A row of doors adorned both sides of the passage, each holding secrets within.
His steps were automatic, guided by memory, as he made his way towards his destination—a door bearing a single pinkish enamel flame etched on its surface. Spyro halted before it, pausing for a moment before raising his hand to knock, three measured taps echoing through the hushed corridor.
“It’s open, come in!”A feminine voice came muffled from behind the entrance.
He pushed open the doors, stepping into the comfort of familiarity that came with each return visit.
The room embraced him with its dimly lit ambiance, as the soft glow of candles and glowing crystals created a surreal atmosphere.
His gaze was immediately drawn to a prominently placed large bed adorned with fine linen sheets, inviting him to sink into its luxurious embrace. A single massage table stood beside it, a cart adorned with an array of glass bottles and vases positioned nearby.
To his right, an elegant archway marked the entrance to the bathroom—a space just as expansive as the main room.
A spacious circular pool sat within, serving as a lavish tub for indulgent relaxation. Adjacent to the pool, an arrangement of plush carpets, towels, and an assortment of cushions formed a cozy nest-like area.
Finally, on his left, there was a small rectangular wooden table. Over it, there were many jewels and trinkets that shimmered in the dim light of the room. An aged mirror was mounted on the wall, reflecting the elegant figure of a dragoness as she admired her own reflection.
Her scales were of a bright and pale pink, while her chest and underbelly had a soft cream-colored hue.
Her single pair of horns was of the same color.
Her figure was wrapped in a semi-transparent white linen tunic, one that let every sinuous curve of her body be fully on display.
As soon as she heard the door creak, she turned to look at who entered.
A wide smile colored her lips once her sky-blue eyes met his purple ones.
Ember promptly rose from her seat and hastened towards the door, eager to greet the drake who stood before her.
With a heartfelt embrace, she wrapped her arms around his neck, causing Spyro to let out an "Ommf" as their bodies collided.
Her voice brimming with joy, she exclaimed, "Spyro! I'm so happy to see you!" She held him tightly in her grasp, savoring the moment.
“And I’m so happy to know that you won't fight in the arena anymore…Congratulations”She whispered against his scales.
In response, Spyro placed his hands on her hips, returning the affectionate gesture. His voice was filled with warmth as he whispered, "I'm happy to see you too, Ember." The two of them stood there for a moment, lost in their reunion.
The dragoness rested her head against the crook of his neck, while his hands slid up to her lower back.
Ember held a special place in Spyro's life, having been one of his closest friends since they first crossed paths.
Their meeting took place within those same walls when Spyro's owner had treated him to a night at the brothel as a celebration of one important victory in the arena.
Her situation was also peculiar. She used to be a slave, just like him. She got her freedom though in much less time, with hard work and also lenience from her ex-owner and now patron Seka.
It was very rare for dragonesses to be sex workers, and even more rare if they were slaves.
Ember was sold for a meager sum of gold when she was a little more than a teenager, as her family was extremely poor.
Luck wanted her to finish under Seka's protection.
She had her working hard but in a safe and protected environment. Quickly, she became skilled in her craft, and in less than two years she was able to buy her freedom back.
While she was now a fully-fledged citizen of the empire, Ember discovered a deep appreciation for her former profession, viewing it more as an art form than a chore. With this newfound passion, she chose to remain at the brothel and continue working for Seka, at least until she found another skill or talent that she excelled in.
The night Spyro and Ember first met, they were immediately drawn to one another due to their strikingly similar circumstances. This instant connection grew into a strong friendship, one that was further deepened by the sharing of intimate moments between them.
Spyro became a regular visitor at the brothel, not just for the services but to simply spend time with Ember.
This meant a great deal to her, and she expressed her gratitude by telling him that he wouldn't need to pay for their nights together.
Instead, she vowed to provide everything for free as a gesture of friendship. However, Spyro adamantly insisted on continuing to pay, not out of necessity but as a means of support for his dear friend. They almost disagreed on this matter until they reached a compromise for a symbolic price: the exact amount Spyro had in his pouch at that time.
This sum was modest yet meaningful, consisting of three silver coins.
They both let go of each other but kept their hands together.
With an amused grin, Ember commented: "From the five seconds we spent close, I could already smell your sweaty armpits.”
“This won't do, won’t it?”Supplied Spyro.
“It won't. I can’t have you walking around this fine establishment all dirty and smelly, can I?”
“So what do you suggest we do about this?”He said back.
“I think…”She let go of his hands and got closer to him again, taking his belt in her hands
“That you should be a good drake and lose this tunic, hmm?”She said seductively, unbuckling said belt.
“Hmmm, I think it’s a great idea”He said, as he raised his arms, letting her slip the tunic off him.
As Spyro's garments fell to the floor, Ember's seductive smile briefly faded into a neutral expression. She inquired flatly, "Really Spyro, underwear?"
Spyro simply raised his shoulders in response, explaining, "You know I don't like getting dust and sand under there. It gets so fucking itchy." His words were laced with a hint of humor.
Ember snorted at his response before reaching behind Spyro's back to untie the knot that secured the loincloth in place. Once she had undone it, the garment dropped to the floor, leaving him completely exposed and bare before her.
Spyro's physique was both awe-inspiring and somewhat intimidating. Though not the most muscular dragon in the city, he possessed a good amount of toned muscle underneath his royal purple and golden scales. Countless scars, marks, and scratches adorned his hide, serving as a silent testament to his past occupation.
Ember found herself unable to look away from Spyro's exposed form, even though she had seen him like this before.
Over the years, she had been fortunate enough to witness the evolution of his body, new scars forming while old ones faded with time.
She finally snapped out of her trance and met Spyro's gaze, a smile gracing her lips as she gestured towards the bathroom.
"Well, now you're ready," she said warmly. "The warm pool is waiting for you. I'll join you in a minute; I just need to gather up some soaps and oils." With that, Ember turned away from Spyro, her movements graceful and deliberate as she made her way toward the bathroom to prepare for their shared bathing experience.
Spyro followed Ember into the bathroom as the room opened before him. The dim lighting, provided by candles and the glow of crystals, created an enchanting ambiance. Their reflections danced on the surface of the small pool, adding to its mystical allure.
Without hesitation, Spyro made his way towards the edge of the pool and gently lowered himself into the warm water. The sensation was incredibly comforting, and he couldn't resist emitting a soft moan as he sank deeper into the soothing embrace of the bath.
The floor of the pool gradually deepened towards its center, allowing Spyro to walk further in until the water reached his neck. He stood there for a moment, his eyes closed and a contented smile gracing his lips as he savored the warmth enveloping him. The peaceful atmosphere was soon interrupted by the sound of glass clinking softly, capturing his attention.
Ember set a basket filled with various bottles and jars near the edge of the pool. When Spyro's attention shifted to her, she flashed him a sly grin before casually removing a single golden pin from her left shoulder. In a graceful motion reminiscent of falling water, her linen dress slipped down over her scales, leaving Ember completely naked before Spyro.
Her physique was a breathtaking blend of beauty and sensuality. Her sinuous curves were soft and inviting, colored in a delicate shade of pinkish scales that contrasted elegantly with her cream-white ones. These latter scales adorned her inner thighs, pubic area, and ascended up to her abdomen and neck, ending just below her throat.
Ember's breasts were of a perfect size that matched her body, fully in display now that they were unconstrained from any garment.
Her pink nipples stood proudly, surrounded by her creamy scales.
The shimmering surface of the pool cast countless tiny reflections of light against Ember's scales, causing them to gleam like the brightest gemstones.
The sight left Spyro breathless, as he took in every detail of Ember's unique form.
With confidence and grace, Ember stepped into the warm water, her tail twitching slightly at the sensation. Spyro approached her, and they met halfway.
By now, Ember was submerged up to her breasts while Spyro remained underwater apart from his head and tail.
"Shy?" Ember teased playfully, hinting at the vulnerable position Spyro found himself in.
"Nah, just pleasantly warm," he replied, maintaining a calm demeanor despite their close proximity. His muzzle was now less than a meter away from hers as they floated there together in the water.
Ember extended her arms towards Spyro, beckoning him closer and leaning her back against the edge of the pool. He swam over to her, his body responding instinctively to her invitation. Once within reach, Ember placed both her warm hands on his cheeks, pulling him even closer and allowing him to rest his head between her breasts.
As Spyro's head nestled against Ember's chest, she began to gently scratch circles into his scaly skin with her thumbs while massaging the base of his horns, a sensitive area for dragonkin like themselves. The sensation was incredible, sending shivers down Spyro's spine.
Ember's hands continued their soothing journey down Spyro's body, moving from his cheeks to his neck and upper back. Her fingers kneaded and massaged the large surface of his skin with expert precision, eliciting a deep purr from Spyro as he leaned into her touch.
When she removed her hands momentarily to fetch some bottles from the basket, Spyro couldn't help but feel a slight sense of disappointment at the temporary loss of her nurturing touch. However, his curiosity was soon piqued by the sounds she made—a loud "pop" followed by the squelching sound of soap lotion being applied to her hands.
As Ember's massaging hands returned to Spyro, this time coated in soapy water, he felt a new layer of relaxation wash over him. She began to massage his head, horns, and neck with the slippery concoction, covering him in a thin layer of bubbles.
Once she had adequately coated Spyro's upper body, Ember reached for a brush and used it to rinse off the soap from his scales. She meticulously cleaned away every trace of suds until she was satisfied that he was free from excess soap.
She then placed a kiss on the tip of his nose.
One of her hands slid from him and hovered over the edge of the tub.
She channeled her magic, making several magical glowing sigils appear around the tub.
With practiced ease, she gestured a spell, which made the geometry of the pool bottom change.
Beneath them, the steps morphed into something whose shape reminded vaguely the one of a deckchair.
“I gotta move you now," Ember murmured sweetly as she slid away from Spyro. He found himself lying on his belly against the stone, exposing most of his back and legs for an easier wash.
With Spyro in position, Ember picked up the soap bottle again and coated herself with a generous amount of the scented lotion before rubbing it all over her body. Soon enough, a nice frothy lather had formed on her skin.
Straddling Spyro's back, Ember pressed her body against his, using her soapy form to gently rinse his scales.
Ember's soft moans echoed through the water as Spyro's backfins tickled her most sensitive areas.
As she continued to scrub Spyro's scales with her soapy body, her movements became more sensual and deliberate. The combination of the warm water, candlelight, and their shared intimacy created an atmosphere of pure bliss around them.
Ember's hands roamed freely over his back, massaging the soap into his hide while caressing every inch of his scales with her own.
The sensation was heavenly for both of them.
Once Ember was satisfied with her cleaning efforts on Spyro's back, she shifted her focus to his lower body.
She wrapped her arms around his tail and settled it between her breasts before beginning to massage the soap into its scales.
Using her ample chest for added leverage, she worked in circular motions that sent shivers down Spyro's spine.
Her touch didn't end there; one of her hands slipped down towards the base of his tail and between his sculpted cheeks, gently massaging his tailhole.
Spyro let out a soft moan at the sensation, feeling an intense rush of pleasure from Ember's tender caresses.
Ember continued her attentions by moving on to Spyro's legs, covering them in a soapy lather using both hands.
Finally, Ember helped Spyro turn around, allowing the soapy foam on his back to melt away in the water as they faced each other once more. Their eyes locked in a passionate gaze, reflecting the deep care and desire that bound them together.
Ember closed the distance between their muzzles and captured Spyro's lips in a passionate kiss, their tongues dancing together.
She placed one of her hands on his chest, feeling the heat of his body beneath her touch. In response, she felt Spyro's hands cup her cheeks, deepening the intensity of their kiss.
Their lips eventually parted, but their eyes remained locked together, the connection between them palpable.
With a renewed passion, Ember straddled Spyro once more, feeling his hardened member poking against her sensitive folds.
Ember regained control over her emotions, breaking their gaze and reaching for the bottle of soap sitting on the edge of the pool.
She doused herself liberally with its contents, before placing the empty bottle back down.
With a sultry smile, Ember began to move her hands in large circular motions over her chest, causing the foam to grow and bubble around her breasts. Her movements were deliberate and sensual, leaving the male beneath her only enthralled by her beauty.
With a sultry smile still playing at her lips, Ember's hands slid down from her body to Spyro's chest. She laid her weight against him and began to use her soapy form to spread the remaining soap over his scales once more. This time, their actions were much more intimate and pleasurable for both of them as they moved in sync with one another.
Ember slid up and down Spyro's chest, aided by the slipperiness of the soap that coated their bodies. The sensation was electrifying, their scales tingling with every touch. Their eyes locked together, reflecting the passion and desire that burned between them as they reveled in this intimate moment.
The water around them continued to ripple with their movements, creating a sensual symphony that filled the air.
As Spyro moaned softly against Ember's neck, her folds glided over his shaft, caressing every ridge of it with their slickness.
The sensation was almost too much for him to bear, his body tensing and releasing in waves of pleasure. Meanwhile, Ember gasped at the feeling, her own body responding instinctively to his touch.
After a couple of minutes, she pulled herself up and hovered over him with heavy breath. Their eyes locked gaze again. They met in the middle with another brief kiss.
”I don't think I can wait anymore," Ember whispered huskily as she let herself fall backward into the water.
When she resurfaced, her scales were clean of any soap and glistened with moisture. She waded closer to Spyro, her eyes filled with desire as she took in his form. As he tried to pull himself up from the stone deckchair, Ember reached for him, her hands gently guiding his movements. The water rippled around them as they moved in sync, their bodies coming together with a sense of urgency that belied their desire.
As they sat there, Ember leaned forward and traced her fingers along Spyro's jawline, down his neck, and across his chest. Every touch was deliberate and sensual, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through both of them. She stole glances at his body in the meanwhile, drinking in every detail with her eyes before leaning in to plant again a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.
With a good deal of effort, Spyro walked the steps, holding Ember’s hand. The noise of falling water reverberated softly in the room.
Ember led him to the cozy-looking makeshift nest of towels, carpets, and pillows near the edge of the pool.
She laid Spyro down on his back, his head resting gently against a plush cushion. Ember's eyes never left his as she knelt over him once more, her movements fluid and confident.
With practiced ease, one of Ember's hands guided his erect penis to her entrance.
A soft smile graced her lips as she slowly lowered herself onto him, their bodies coming together with a moan that escaped both their throats. Every ridge of Spyro's shaft was engulfed by Ember's folds, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through both of them.
As Ember pulled herself up slightly, the tip of Spyro's penis brushed against her most sensitive spot. Then, with a slow and deliberate movement, she sank down onto him once more, her folds finally enveloping all of his shaft and kissing the knot at his base.
Spyro reached forward, grabbing hold of Ember's thighs with his hands while she moved backward, supporting herself with both arms and her tail. She rose again before sinking back down, another moan escaping her lips as she felt the pleasure wash over her.
Ember flexed her abdomen, pulling her body up before letting only the tip of Spyro's shaft remain inside. She then sank slowly back down, feeling every ridge stimulate her folds with exquisite intensity. She repeated these movements over and over again, picking up the pace as she went. The room was filled with soft plaps and moans.
Spyro, lost in the pure pleasure of the moment, could only focus on Ember's beautiful form moving above him. Her glistening scales caught the colors of the candles, while her flesh bounced rhythmically with each movement. The intensity of the experience was building to a crescendo.
“Em-Ahh" Spyro voiced. "I don't think I can last much longer," he said between moans.
Ember replied breathlessly, "A-ahhh, me neither Spy." Her movements grew more urgent as she lowered herself down once again, putting more weight into her thrusts.
She changed position then, placing both her hands on Spyro's chest to help steady herself as she quickened the pace even further. "I'm cumming Ember!" Spyro cried out, his grip tightening around her thighs.
And before he reached the peak of his release, Ember lowered herself fully onto him, their bodies coming together with a lurid noise from their nether regions. Spyro's knot entered her, securing their union as they both succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure that washed over them in waves.
And waves of intense pleasure surged through Ember as Spyro's hot seed filled her depths, his member throbbing inside her with every pulse of release. Her limbs grew weak, and she collapsed against him, her body trembling in the aftershocks of their powerful climax.
Spyro enveloped her in a tight embrace, his strong arms holding her close as he continued to move within her, trying to reach deeper into her core with each thrust. Their moans echoed through the room.
As she felt Spyro's member pulse and twitch against her walls, Ember couldn't help but let out a guttural cry, the sensation overwhelming her in the best possible way. The combination of their slickened bodies and the warm semen filling her made each movement feel even more intense than before.
Their breaths mingled as their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss.
Once the adrenaline of their climax died down, they released also from their kiss, Ember rested her head on his chest.
"Do you want to bring this to the bed?" Spyro asked with his voice husky with desire. Ember nodded eagerly, and with renewed vigor, Spyro rose from the makeshift nest and carried both of them to the soft embrace of the bed. He carefully positioned Ember on her back against the sheets, taking on the role of the dominant partner.
The dynamic of Spyro taking on the dominant role and Ember submitting to him, though unusual for societal norms among dragons, was not entirely foreign in their sexual habits. While it was true that the female dragon, as a dominant figure in society, usually took charge during lovemaking, there were instances where she would allow herself to be pleasured by her mate and let them take the lead.
This act of conceding control was seen as unconventional but held deep significance for mates. It was viewed not as an obligation or servitude but rather a gesture of trust and vulnerability. By allowing their partner to take charge, the female dragon showed that she fully trusted and was comfortable with her mate.
In reality, such acts of submission were not as rare as they seemed in dragon society. While most sexual encounters between dragon partners focused on the pleasure of the female, there were instances where both partners reciprocated and prioritized each other's satisfaction equally.
"Want me to pull out?" he asked, his breath hot against her ear.
Ember moaned softly in response, "Only if you'll fuck me again, Spy."
Spyro grinned wickedly "Of course, my lady," he whispered before pulling out slowly. The sound of their slickened bodies parting filled the air, followed by a satisfying 'pop' as he disconnected from Ember. Gravity allowed his previous load to remain inside her, but Spyro had other plans.
He adjusted his position, wrapping his arms around Ember and pulling her closer. In response, she wrapped her limbs around him, her arms encircling his back and her legs locking around his hips. Their bodies moved together with a slow, deliberate rhythm as Spyro entered her once more.
Spyro planted a line of soft, wet kisses down the side of her neck before nipping gently at her scales. He then pulled out slightly, teasingly, only to push back in with renewed force, drawing a sharp moan from Ember's lips. A wet smack echoed through the room as their bodies collided, followed by a chorus of pleasure.
Spyro's hips began to move with an intense, rhythmic pace, his hardened member sliding deep inside Ember once more. Her breath caught in her throat as the pleasure of his thrusts coursed through her body, each movement a delicious assault on her senses. She let out a guttural moan, her fingers digging into Spyro's back as she tried to pull him even closer.
Their slickened bodies moved together in an erotic dance, the sound of scales slapping against scales filling the room. With each thrust, Ember could feel the muscles in Spyro's thighs and buttocks contracting powerfully, driving himself ever deeper into her. The sensation was overwhelming, a torrent of pleasure that threatened to consume them both.
Ember's eyes rolled back in ecstasy as she gripped Spyro tightly, her legs squeezing his hips with each forceful thrust. She could feel the wet heat enveloping her, her body eagerly accepting and craving more of his hardness. Her claws raked down Spyro's back, leaving small, red marks in their wake as she desperately clung to him.
Spyro pulled himself a bit up and reached around to cup Ember's breasts, massaging them firmly as he continued to reach into her. The sensation was too much for Ember, and with a throaty cry, she came hard against him, her muscles spasming wildly in response to the intense pleasure.
Spyro followed soon after, his hips jerking uncontrollably before, with one final thrust, he finally pushed his knot again into her before collapsing on top of her, both of them panting heavily and coated in a sheen of sweat.
As their bodies finally stilled, Spyro and Ember lay entwined, basking in the afterglow of their intense lovemaking.
The room was filled with a contented silence, punctuated only by the gentle sound of their breathing and the occasional soft snort from Spyro as he tried to regain his composure.
Ember's tail lazily trailed through the cool air, brushing against Spyro's flank. Her scales shimmered with the glow of the candles. Despite their just-satisfied state, Ember couldn't help but feel a warm sense of happiness radiating from her core. This was what she loved about these moments with Spyro: the raw, primal connection that transcended the ordinary bounds of friendship.
Spyro raised his head slightly to look down at Ember, a soft smile playing on his lips. He gently caressed her cheek before leaning in to plant a tender kiss on her forehead. "That was... spectacular, Ember," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
Ember chuckled softly, her eyes still closed as she reveled in the aftermath of their lovemaking. "Spectacular doesn't even begin to cover it, Spy," she replied, her words laced with a playful tone.
Spyro smiled back at her as he reached forward, as they cuddled close to one another, their bodies intertwined in a comfortable embrace.
As time passed, it was Ember who took the lead once again, her eyes gleaming with desire as she gazed down at Spyro. She slowly trailed her fingers along his chest, teasing him with gentle feather-light touches. Her breath was warm against his scales as she leaned in to capture his lips in a hungry kiss.
With a low growl of pleasure, Spyro complied as their lovemaking resumed. Ember began by taking him into her mouth, her tongue dancing around the head of his cock as she sucked and teased him mercilessly. The sensation was exquisite, and it wasn't long before Spyro felt himself growing harder and more sensitive with each passing moment.
Their passion continued to build, each touch and caress sending sparks of desire flying through their bodies. Ember straddled Spyro's hips, guiding him inside her once again as they resumed their intense dance. Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, every thrust and moan amplifying the pleasure they felt for one another.
Despite their exhausted state, neither of them could resist each other, and they found themselves losing themselves in this cycle of passion over and over again. They made love two more times before finally succumbing to the lure of sleep, their bodies spent but still connected.
The next morning, as the sun began to peek over the horizon, Spyro and Ember found themselves cuddled up once more. They shared a lingering gaze filled with love and affection before succumbing to another round of tender kisses and caresses.
After fully waking up, it was time for them to wash away the night they just spent.
They slid out from beneath the covers and padded towards the adjoining bathroom, their claws clinking against the marble floor.
With a playful smirk, Ember beckoned for Spyro to join her by the small pool. He complied eagerly, stepping into the warm water and pulling her close. Their bodies meld together as they floated weightlessly in the water, just like they did the night before.
They spent around ten minutes in the pool, washing away the sweat and emissions from the previous night's activities (Ember especially). Despite the absence of any overtly sensual touches, there was still an undercurrent of intimacy between them as they helped each other scrub their backs, reach for difficult spots, and rinse off the suds.
After thoroughly cleaning themselves, Spyro and Ember stepped out of the pool, dripping water onto the tiled floor. They grabbed fluffy towels from the nearby rack and began drying themselves off, taking care to remove every last droplet of water. Their garments were neatly folded on a chair close to the entrance, a thoughtful gesture by one of the establishment's numerous slaves.
The clothes also smelled of fresh flowers, meaning that they were thoroughly washed during the night.
Finally, they were both dressed as they shared one last embrace before saying their goodbyes.
Ember took Spyro in a hug, as the drake kissed her forehead and reciprocated the embrace.
They basked in their warmth for another moment.
Eventually, they broke apart, exchanging heartfelt words of gratitude and love. Spyro thanked Ember once again for an unforgettable night, while she expressed her own appreciation for their time together and emphasized how much she cherished each moment spent in his company. With a playful wink, she reminded him that her bed would always be available whenever he wanted.
As Spyro prepared to leave the room, he looked back at Ember with a soft smile, expressing his gratitude one final time before opening the door and stepping into the corridor. "See you soon, Em," he murmured as the door closed behind him.
As Spyro resumed his walk back to his apartment, he felt an overwhelming sense of relaxation wash over him. The events of the night before with Ember had left him feeling content and fulfilled.
After about twenty minutes, he finally arrived at his doorstep.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside his humble abode, looking around at the limited space in which he lived.
Content to find it as he left it the evening before.
He unbuckled his belt and removed the tunic, folding it neatly so as not to waste the work of the slave who cleaned it during the night.
Now naked again, with a huff, he made himself fall on his straw bed as he looked at the ceiling.
He had all the morning free before his shift at the barracks.
Maybe he should sleep a bit more than have lunch?
Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the capital, perched on the hill that dominated the city a magnificent and grandiose palace stood.
Its white stone columns and golden accents make it look more like a temple than a royal residence.
And, in the large maze of frescos-adorned corridors, great halls, gardens, and statues, a young female wolf slave found herself in front of a large and ornate stone door.
Beside her, a small golden cart with a variety of refined foods, perfect for the breakfast of a member of the imperial family.
A red sigil glowed through the grey fur on the back of her hand as she posed it on the stone.
A similar but more intricate sigil appeared on the stone underneath her palm, before she removed it.
Then, almost in silence, the door opened, letting in to the room of her mistress.
The space the young wolf slave stepped into was breathtakingly beautiful, with a domed ceiling featuring a round opening in the middle that allowed a thick beam of light to stream down and brighten every surface of the white marble room. Various items dotted the area—a sizable wooden closet, a desk overflowing with papers, weaponry and tapestries adorning the walls, and intricate carpets that covered the floor in patterns, guiding her toward different sections of the princess's apartment.
Across from her, a grand double-sized canopy bed captured her attention as she pushed the tray forward.
A faint snore echoed from beyond the bed's heavy drapes.
The young wolf continued pushing the cart inside as the door closed behind her, leaving only the sound of her soft footsteps on the plush carpets and the light rustling of curtains as she parted them to reveal the sleeping dragoness within.
The canopy bed was bathed in a sliver of sunlight that filtered through its cover, casting an ethereal glow over Cynder, who slept peacefully, albeit unceremoniously sprawled, in the black silk sheets.
The servant couldn't help but let a small grin spread across her muzzle as she delicately peeled back one corner of the canopy to expose more of Cynder's form. She tenderly took hold of the closest dragoness hand, running her fingers gently over it as she murmured, "Your Highness?"
Pausing for a moment, she widened the opening further before addressing her mistress once again, her voice a bit stronger this time, "Your Highness, it's time to wake up.”
The snoring ceased as the she-wolf continued to gently stroke Cynder's hand. Gradually, the princess's eyelids fluttered open, and when her eyes came into focus, she recognized the smiling servant before her.
"Good morning, your highness," the wolf chirped pleasantly.
Cynder's response was a muffled, "G'morning," followed by another heavy sigh and closed eyelids as she tried to shake off the lingering drowsiness. As she gradually came to full consciousness, a strange yet delightful tingling sensation coursed through her body, causing her to shiver from head to toe.
However, her mind was still hazy, unable to pinpoint the source of this pleasure.
Noticing Cynder's shivers, the servant expressed concern, asking if she needed something warm to combat the apparent chill.
"No, no, don't worry," Cynder replied, cutting herself off mid-sentence as she yawned widely. "I'm just…" She trailed off, unsure of how to describe her current state.
In the act of reassuring her, Cynder raised her free arm, stretching it out and causing the black silk sheets to flow like water around her exposed body, her breasts now visible to the attentive servant.
"I was just stretching out," she said softly. "Don't worry."
The wolf nodded dutifully before parting the curtains further.
"Your breakfast has arrived, my lady. Would you like me to serve it to you?"
As her mind cleared, Cynder finally understood the source of the pleasurable sensation that had awakened her.
It involved a blur of purple and gold scales, silk, and fire, though the exact details were still hazy. Now fully aware of her situation, she realized that she was in a rather compromising condition beneath the sheets.
Cursing to herself under her breath, Cynder decided she needed to dismiss the servant quickly and handle this mess alone.
"Thank you for bringing it in, but don’t worry, I can manage it myself," she said, her voice trying to maintain its royal composure despite the humiliating circumstances.
The wolf's smile faltered briefly before she nodded and withdrew her hand. "Is there anything else I can do for you, my lady?" she asked politely.
Cynder had an idea. "Actually, could you prepare a warm bath for me and lay out some fresh linen?" she requested.
The servant nodded again, her tone respectful as she replied, "Of course, my lady. I'll leave you to your breakfast." She bowed before stepping back, allowing the black curtains to fall back into place and enveloping the princess once more in privacy.
Cynder stood still as a rock, ears trained on the steps of the slave becoming fainter and fainter until she heard the faint click of the magical door.
Then, silence. She was alone.
She exhaled heavily, as she uncovered herself.
The difference in temperature between the inside and the outside of the bedsheets hit her, especially in her most sensitive spot, a gasp escaped her mouth.
Even in darkness, her night vision allowed to see the wetness that engulfed her sex.
Now the cooled air of the outside world had renewed the tingles that pervaded her body, of which the origin was clear and glistening in front of her eyes.
There was only one way to deal with this.
Cynder carefully propped herself up using her elbows and added a few pillows beneath her back for support
With practiced ease, she weaved her right hand in the air, a swirl of black and red magical energy followed the movements of her fingers.
In front of her, shadows began to swirl mid-air and take form, a form of a… draconic penis, or at least what she imagined it to look like based on her experiences.
The fake mating tool was there, hovering.
Cynder huffed.
It wasn’t the first time she entertained herself with this type of activity, especially since it took her many, many hours of trial and error before reaching something that could be considered sufficient to be used the way she intended to.
She exhaled heavily, closed her eyes, and laid deeper into the cushions. With her mind, she tried to recall all the details of her dream.
With her thoughts drifting, Cynder delicately guided the hovering mating tool toward her moist sex, focusing her magic with each subtle movement.
As she continued her solo act, Cynder's thoughts wandered back to the dream, each detail coming back in her memory, providing a fuel to her current fantasies.
Purple scales and golden chest, uncountable scars etched over solid and lean muscles. Strong arms wound around her, caressing and groping.
To this cue, her left hand snaked up her flank and to her breast, squeezing it softly.
The purple body pictured on her eyelids danced over her as their groins connected.
A gasp escaped her as the draconic shadow parted her lips and made way inside of her.
Her concentration did not break, instead added more reality to the dream she was living.
The gladiator pulled out and then dived back in, each ridge of his ember caressed her inner walls, drawing a moan from her mouth.
She asked more and he delivered, taking a steady pace, hilting his shaft into her repeatedly, with his thick knot kissing her labia with each deep thrust.
It wasn’t before long that Cynder met her release, as she moaned with her mouth closed and her muscles spasmed around the magical contraption going in and out of her.
She kept it going for as long as she could, riding her orgasm to the end.
Once she was done, she opened her eyes again, with renewed lucidity in her mind.
She was with her legs spread wide open, as if ready to receive drake after drake.
How unbecoming for a princess to be submissive to males, to dream of being taken by an ex-slave, a commoner.
Cynder dismissed the magical penis with a wave of her hand before she finally rolled out of her bed.
She pulled the sheets out and dumped them on the ground, too embarrassed to think that her servant would pick her cum-stained sheets up later that morning.
She eventually grabbed some berries from the tray and directed towards the bathroom, hoping that soaking in a warm bath would help wash away the lingering remnants of the intense dream she'd just experienced.