Wylf opened her eyes and stretched lazily. Around her, the dark blue walls of her tent protected her from the bright late morning sunlight that beat down upon the surrounding sands. Beyond the walls, she could hear the faint sounds of the surrounding town, a permanent camp in the middle of a vast desert. For once, the responsibilities of running the town had disappeared, allowing her to sleep late. The wolf settled back into the soft, silken pillows, slowly skritching her paws through the soft russet fur of her sides. She lay in the dim light of the tent, enjoying the tranquillity while it lasted.

From somewhere outside, she heard wing beats approach, then footsteps. The flaps to the tent whipped open, and the shadow of a large griffon moved across the blazing light. The door closed and darkness returned. Shiltarm squinted, trying to see. He had a rough idea of where Wylf would be, but could only make out vague shadows. He stood by the door and waited. "Mistress?" he called quietly.

Wylf yawned and looked up. Casually, she eyed the captain of her guards. Unlike Wylf, who was wearing nothing, he wore a crimson and black sash across his chest. Tight black pants covered his muscular legs, and a long, scimitar hung from his belt. Gold-feathered wings hung behind him. He was panting from his flight. Wylf knew that he realized how dangerous it was to fly in the heat of the day, so he had some reason to get here quickly. "What is it?" she asked eventually.

"Herril has now vanished, and we still haven't found any sign of Tar'thom or Rit'ko. Even their horses are still missing." He paused, wondering if she was listening. "A sword was found, and I think it belonged to Herril," he said. He moved closer to Wylf, standing just in front of her. "Also, a foreign ship has anchored in the northern harbor."

Wylf yawned again and sat up. Her drowsy eyes stared up at the griffon. "Who cares?" she thought. She was too tired to worry about that right now. She grinned mischievously as she thought of something else that she found more interesting. With a smirk of pleasure, she reached out for Shiltarm's belt with her foot.

Shiltarm's beak dropped as Wylf's rather agile feet started undoing his buckle. Trying not to let himself become too aroused (but failing), he sputtered "That ship could be a minor threat."

"Perhaps," replied Wylf absently, pulling the belt away from his waist. Over the past few months, she had gotten quite good at using her feet for things like that. As his loose pants and sword fell to the ground, she kneeled before him, and glanced up to the griffon's face. His wings and tail quivered as the wolf's paws rubbed through the golden fur on his legs. Wylf growled softly, massaging his balls gently with one paw. With a grin, Shiltarm sighed and growled back as the wolf aroused him further with her tongue. "Almost too easy," Wylf thought as she kept herself amused with the griffon. Casually, she forced his hardened penis into her mouth, still rubbing and teasing with her tongue and fangs. "Perhaps he's gotten too used to this," she thought, hearing his quiet roars. "Something will have to be done about that." With one final lick, she pulled her head away from him and looked up over the chest of the panting creature. "Maybe."

She kneeled, and rubbed her paws further up his body, over the fur on his stomach and chest, up to the soft feathers of his neck. Leaning back, she pulled him down onto her bed. He landed over her on all fours, and she pulled his beak to her muzzle for a kiss. Their tongues met and intertwined as Shiltarm's tail started rubbing around Wylf's legs. She pulled away from the kiss with a gasp. He tickled her thighs with the fuzzy end of his tail and felt Wylf shudder as he brushed it across her pussy. While his tail continued to excite the wolf, he leaned forward and started biting gently at her ears. Lost in her growing excitement, Wylf's paws clawed frantically at his back and the base of his powerful wings. She grabbed his waist and pulled his hips toward her own, desperate for satisfaction. His hips gave way, but only far enough to allow the head of his penis to rest against the rim of her vulva, which was by now begging, practically screaming, to be filled. After a deliberate pause, Shiltarm started a slow entry into the passion-filled wolf beneath him. Wylf howled with pleasure as she felt herself taking in the griffon. With one gentle push, his entire length slid into Wylf, and Shiltarm stopped for a bit to allow the sudden wave of ecstasy to subside.

Like a wild animal, Wylf began biting at Shiltarm's feathery neck and growling in his ears. Matching her growls, the griffon started thrusting himself deep into the wolf. Wylf tried to muffle her cries and howls as she felt ripples of pleasure burning through her innards each time the griffon's hips impacted on hers. The bucking of his hips became harder and faster as Wylf bit at his ears. Feeling the griffon sliding though her summoned powerful surges of ecstasy that built up inside of her until she felt all her control ebbing away. A howl escaped her lips when she felt her whole body tense and quake from Shiltarm's frantic thrusting. Somewhere above her, she heard him cry out as well, and she could almost feel the white heat burning inside of her from the griffon's orgasm. She was dimly aware of the heavily panting griffon falling gently onto her chest, and felt his hot breath on her face. A numbing silence was all she felt for some time.

Slowly, Wylf felt herself regaining control, and started to calm down slightly. She had felt like a mindless animal beneath him, compelled by instincts she couldn't understand, almost as if this mating with Shiltarm was something she was forced to do. Her body quivered slightly as she thought about how much she enjoyed that feeling. Shiltarm, on the other hand, always seemed to remain rather calm and controlled, something Wylf found rather unexciting about him. Sometime soon it might be time for her to find a new `toy' to replace him. Sometime, maybe.

Two hours later, they were riding across the desert, arriving at the harbor soon after. Along the ocean the desert was very much different. Trees and thick bushes grew along the hilly shoreline. Instead of powder-dry sand, the ground was solid, even damp in some places. More of her guards were already there, about 40 of them, sitting in the shade waiting. They sprung to attention when she arrived. Shiltarm dismounted from his horse, and stood in front of his other guards.

Wylf looked to the ship. It was a large sea ship, made for crossing oceans through any weather. Cannon barrels peeked out of the sides. All the sails were rolled up on the gaffes, except for a few loose pieces which flapped in the breeze. An anchor chain lead down from the bow into the dark water. Across the back, glinting in the sunlight, were the letters `Amnidar' in gold. There seemed to be no activity on the deck.

Shiltarm spoke. "No one has left the ship since it arrived. It seems to be waiting for something."

"But for what?" Wylf asked. She tried to remember why the name `Amnidar' sounded oddly familiar. "Can you take that ship?"

"Of course! The crew seems to be very small. It may be a decoy, but I doubt it." He looked to the ship. "Their only weapon seems to be those cannons, and they would be useless against us if we flew to them."

"All right, do it then." She got off her horse as the griffons drew their weapons. "There is little point in waiting until dark. They would expect it then. Go!" The aerial army took to the air and advanced on the ship. Wylf stood in the shade by one of the trees and watched. Just as the griffons reached the ship, a hand came out of the brush behind her, grabbed her mouth, and yanked her back.

She struggled while she was dragged through the trees to a small clearing. Her attacker pushed her to the ground, and removed the sword from her belt. "So you're in charge here," came a voice. "I must admit, you're much prettier than most leaders I've run into. As for your hospitality, well... Attacking my ship? No matter... Those whimps of yours won't get far." Wylf turned to look to the voice.

Standing over her was a stocky reddish-pink dragon. The black pants that he wore were more like shorts now, the tattered bottoms hung just above his knees. An old crimson sash tied about his waist held them in place. His face was red from sunlight; he obviously wasn't used to this environment. A childish smirk crossed his face, and emerald green eyes stared into her own.

"I thought that ship sounded familiar. Captain Dranga, the legendary fear of sailors," she growled, concealing her nervousness.

He grinned and bowed. "It's nice to be popular."

"If you think you have any chance of getting anything out of my-"

"Ha! Are you serious? In all my travels, I haven't come across anyplace more boring and useless than this place, including that town of yours."

Wylf ignored the insult. "Then why are you here?" She rubbed her chest, and began toying with her necklace.

"Amusement. I'm having a race with Atom, Chavara, and a few others of my crew. Raced across the continent, to here. And since I seem to be quite early, I'm now after entertainment." He grinned maliciously.

"If you touch me..." Wylf started. Dranga suddenly noticed the attention she was giving her necklace, and leapt onto her and ripped it from her throat. He looked closely at it, and let out a loud growl. "It's just a necklace," she said.

"I doubt that."

"Are all pirates this paranoid?"

"Perhaps, which could explain why I'm not the one who's just been caught."

"Yet," she mumbled. Dranga remembered the griffons. Grabbing her arm, he bolted back into the brush, dragging her along behind him. Darting quickly through the trees, they reached the shore in no time. He held her tight, leapt onto one of the horses and spurred it on, leading it toward the hills nearby.

He pulled her in front of him and held his claws against her stomach. "Now stay put!" he growled. As he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the griffons moving away from the ship. He must have been right about the necklace. Soon after, the horse raced into the small mountain range above the desert, and the harbor was out of sight.

Dranga wedged the necklace under the saddle. His legs came up along the wolf's waist. He crossed his feet in front of her, and squeezed, cutting off her breath, forcing a cry of pain from the wolf. "Try anything, and you're in big trouble," he said as he let her breathe again. His wings snapped open, and he drove one set of his claws into the horse's side. The mare panicked, leaping forward in pain and fear. Dranga's wings pulled him and his wolf captive into the air.

They ascended far above the ground. Wylf felt relieved that she didn't have a fear of heights. She still remained nervous knowing that Dranga could drop her at any time, and a fall like this could kill her.

Dranga flew for a while, high enough to keep his captive frightened, but low enough not to be seen. He veered toward the cave he had used as a shelter and swooped into it. Once inside, he dropped the wolf, and landed by the small pool. He shoved his face deep under the frigid water, and splashed more on his body. He was not accustomed to the desert heat. Doing almost anything made him hot, and a flight like that overheated him quickly.

Wylf tumbled across the floor, and crashed into the wall. She lay there, dazed for a bit. They had dropped down a steep shaft which was probably impossible to climb, meaning her only escape was from outside help.

The sound of the dragon splashing around in the water caught her attention. She sat up as she watched him cool off. "Getting a bit hot for you, eh?" she thought with a slight grin. "I'll have to remember that."

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked around. A small fire burning near the center of the cave kept the chamber from getting too cold and provided enough light to see. Off in the corner, she noticed a large pile of bones, three red and black suits, and a pair of swords. "Tar'thom, Rit'ko, and Herril," she said quietly.

"Yep," replied the dragon. "And their horses." He patted his belly. "I must say, you raise tasty griffons here," he said, licking his lips.

A surge of rage overtook Wylf, and the spell passed her lips before she knew it. One of the swords flew across the room into her hand. She hesitated for a bit, angry at herself. Using any magic, even such a simple type, was dangerous when not in total control, and using it automatically could be just as dangerous. She forgot about it for now, for the dragon was more of a threat.

Dranga saw what happened, and leapt to his feet. He was only partially sure about what happened. Normally, Wylf, with or with out the sword or magic, wouldn't trouble Dranga, but if he wasn't careful, he would overheat again.

Wylf held the sword toward him. Dranga stood, waiting for her to move. As soon as she took a step toward him, he blew a cloud of fire at her, and leapt through it onto her. The fire startled Wylf, and his collision with her caused her to stumble back. Falling, she swung the sword at him, and it caught his wing. The blade tore a large gash through the soft flesh of his wing. "Yahh!!" he cried with pain as he struck out at her wrist. Claws sliced across her arm, and the sword fell from her hand to the floor. The fight was now just a matter of strength and agility, and the dragon had her out matched. In a few minutes, she was pinned down.

Breathing heavily, Dranga held her down with one foot. He reached for the sword with his tail, pulled it closer, and picked it up. "So you like playing with swords?" He looked at the blade as she glared at him. He grinned sadistically, and placed the blade into the fire, under the glowing embers. Her mouth dropped open in fear, watching him withdraw the sword, its blade glowing brightly in the darkness. With his free hand, he tore her shirt near her stomach open, and waved the sword close.

"What are you doing?" she cried with fear.

"You want to know?" He pressed the blade into her fur.. She screamed loudly as it sizzled against fur and flesh. Almost instantly, he pulled it back. A large patch of blackened fur remained, but aside from the pain, he had done nothing more. He flipped the sword to his other side, and held it close to her skin again.

"That's just a singe. Want a more permanent one now?"

"No! no..." she whimpered. Her side was still in pain, and she shuddered the thought of another burn.

"Well... are we going to try that trick again?"

"Nay."

"Good." He tossed the sword into the pool. With a splash of water and a hiss of steam, it vanished into the shadows of the pool. "Now remember," he pulled her head near his, and looked into her half open eyes. "Your friends were just griffons, and you're just a wolf. It really makes no difference to me." He dropped her back to the ground, and looked at her again. "Except... you happen to be a girl." he continued with a wicked grin. He began to tug at her loose clothing. Wylf struggled furiously, but aside from him delaying to strike her across the face with his paw, it hardly hindered the dragon's efforts. He tore her shirt off, and yanked off the pants she was wearing.

"NO! Please!" she screamed.

"Oh? Why not? It might be fun," Dranga teased, and he began to let his paws wander across her fur. As he amused himself, she became furious.

"How dare you try this?" she growled. No one ever even dared to disobey her, let alone pin her down and try this. She was powerless. All she could do was get angry. "Get your paws off of me."

"You know," he chuckled, "you're beginning to get annoying. I'll have to find some use for you." He held her down with one hand, and began to undo the sash about his waist. With a yank, his own pants came off, and he tossed them aside. With a snarl of anticipation, he crouched over her. Wylf looked at him with fear and anger.

"Don't even think about-" she started angrily.

"Your voice is getting tiresome. Perhaps I should plug your mouth with something?" he said as he grabbed her muzzle and forced her mouth open. He brought his waist up toward her face, and Wylf shuddered when she felt the dragon's erect penis brush against her chin. "Now if I feel one bite from you," he warned as he positioned himself over her, "you're going to wind up following your three griffon friends. Got that?"

Before she could answer him, he brought his hips down and stuffed his swollen maleness into her mouth. Out of fear, she felt forced to keep him pleased. As the dragon's waist slowly bobbed up and down, Wylf rubbed her tongue along his length. As she continued hearing his grunts of enjoyment, her anger toward him grew, though not enough to overcome her fear about his threat. She also began to feel angry at herself for starting to feel oddly aroused.

With a sudden push from the dragon, Wylf's head was pressed against the rocks behind her, and was held there by his body. Growling with determination and anticipation, Dranga started forceful thrusts over the wolf's tongue. Again, Wylf felt forced to allow him to continue due to her fear, but also due to some unexplainable desire. She almost wanted him to do this, almost hoping he wouldn't stop. Hearing the intensity of his growls and snarls increase, she shuddered with fear about what was to come, but unconsciously tightened her lips around him. A few more quick, violent bucks of his hips brought the loudly roaring dragon to an orgasm inside her mouth. Wylf felt her own body tense up in an almost pleasurable way as her mouth was suddenly filled with a heated, salty ooze. Dranga sighed with satisfaction and pulled himself away from her to rest.

As Dranga rolled off her, she spat the whiteish liquid out and scowled at him with blatant hatred. Being used like this was something she had never imagined happening from anyone. Being raped or treated so roughly was something she found unthinkable.

So why did she enjoy it so much?

Her thoughts were again cut short as she noticed that the dragon seemed to be stumbling around, as if drunk. A confused look crossed his face, and his eyes seemed unable to focus. He suddenly fell forward onto her with a gasp. Something seemed wrong with him again, but Wylf remained still.

In a few seconds, Dranga recovered, partially. He still felt hot, and was beginning to get weak. He crawled away from her and moved toward the pool. His head was spinning badly. His internal temperature was way to high. That fight got him hot enough, and playing around with her made it worse. In a few days he'd be adjusted to this temperature and environment, but until then, he had to be more careful. He collapsed into the pool. His eyes had a hard time focusing on anything, so he just closed them for now while he cooled off.

Wylf stood up, watching him. She had guessed that the heat was getting to him again, for the dragon didn't get a chance to cool down after their flight. He seemed almost helpless once he overheated. "I wonder..." she thought as an idea crossed her mind. Grabbing a mid-sized rock, she stepped closer to him.

Dranga heard something, and sat up. He was cooler now, but he still felt dizzy. He opened one eye, and saw Wylf leaping at him. Startled, he tried to move out of her way, but couldn't react fast enough. As Wylf struck his head with the rock, Dranga growled in pain. Everything he saw was fading to a whiteish color. His body crashed onto the rocks by the pool. Though the waves of pain, he tried to get up. All he could feel was the throb of pain on his head, and he fell back over. He saw Wylf as she stood over him, and he could just barely make out the grin on her face. With a sadistic laugh, she struck the rock against his head again. This time, he blacked out.

-----

Dranga slowly felt himself regaining consciousness. He wasn't in the cave anymore. He seemed to be lying on something soft. He opened his eyes, but all he saw was a blur. Somewhere nearby, he could make out vague movements and muffled voices. He tried to sit up, but fell back down. His head still was spinning, and he felt weak. Slowly, his vision cleared, and he was able to look around. He was in some sort of room. It was rather dark, the area only being lit by two braziers. A soft bed of pillows was beneath him. Looking around some more, he noticed a griffon nearby, presumably one of Wylf's guards. "Only one guard?" Dranga thought. He sat up again, and felt the ropes on his arms and legs. "Ah. I thought it was too easy." He sat back, hoping the pounding in his head would stop.

Sometime soon after, Wylf walked in. Shiltarm motioned for the guard to leave, and took his place behind Wylf. She grinned as Dranga looked up at her. "I'm glad you've finally woken up."

"Nice to see that one of us is," he groaned. His head still hurt. She walked over to him, and reached out to his neck. She had something in her hand. "What are you doing?"

"Restraining you. This necklace is a little present I fixed up for you." He felt her fastening it around her neck. It felt a bit tight already. "There. Now you're a bit more under control." She pulled a knife from her belt and cut his ropes.

As soon as he was free, he made a quick attempt at grabbing her wrist. Shiltarm reached for his sword, and stepped closer. Wylf just smiled and concentrated on the necklace. It began to close around Dranga's throat, cutting short his breath. He released her with a startled choke, and it loosened. Reaching up to feel the necklace, he found that it was just a thin chain with a small crystal, but the material seemed very strong. Judging by the feel of it, it was probably a lot like the one Wylf was wearing, but hers hung loosely with a small crystal attached. She smiled. "Now, I expect you to remain here until I've sent for you. If you think of trying anything, make sure you think of that necklace first." With that, she and Shiltarm left.