Our Little Secret

Helena refused to face Ropes. A lesser dragon may have claimed she was sulking, though would never have said so to the red dragoness' face if they valued their life in the slightest. The only thing sharper than Helena's claws was her tongue, a talent that she had demonstrated upon more than a single occasion. It had been several days since the incident outside the kitchen with no shortage of similar incidents in between and yet the ache between her thighs refused to diminish in the slightest. Having little else to do, she spent the majority of her time in her bedroom, avoiding as much contact as possible with her family and filling her pussy repeatedly and often with the extent of her toy collection. Though even that couldn't satisfy her for long and it was exhausting exertion that left her trembling unpleasantly - nothing like the shivering glow of fucking a real partner.

Moping, she slumped across her bed, mussing up the perfect duvet that she had smoothed into place an hour or so earlier. The creases should have bothered her and her stomach grumbled as she rolled on to her stomach, naked from head to toe, yet she could not find the will to be either aggravated or rediscover her appetite. Someone stomped past her bedroom door, pausing to listen, and the dragoness scowled, turning away. Once only that morning had her brother asked why she was sulking but was swiftly dissuaded from further probing with a withering glare. Males were too easy to manipulate into backing away, in Helena's not so expert opinion.

"Helena?"

Mothers on the other paw...

"I'm fine, mom," Helena raised her voice to be heard through the heavy, wooden door. "What do you want? I thought you were gardening today."

Fyr ignored the comment and tapped the door with the tips of her claws. Tat-tat-tat.

"Can I come in?"

The younger dragoness rolled her eyes.

"No!" Helena growled, a snap in her tone, catching herself in the next second, a flush of heat rushing through her cheeks and down her neck. "I mean...heh..." Think, think! "I'm changing. Changing clothes. Sorry, mom."

An easy explanation and one she had given many times when she hadn't wanted her mother to enter. Helena grimaced. What, had she reverted back to a hatchling all of a sudden? Giving such excuses to her mom!

"Okay." Fyr seemed hesitant, going quiet for a few seconds. "Well, come down when you're ready."

"Will do."

The brief exchange may have been found comical to an onlooker - as much in their household - if it had not repeated several times already that very day alone. As it was, Helena suppressed a sigh and pressed her muzzle between the plush pillows, burying herself in the muted darkness and warmth until her mother padded down the hall, barely making a sound as she left. Once again with silence for company, Helena traced a paw between her breasts, fingertips seeking out each pert nipple in turn and squeezing. She moaned softly.

Forgetting her promise to go downstairs, Helena rolled on to her side and slipped a paw between her thighs, cupping her sore pussy. Slick juices drooled on to her fingers and a tear of frustration leaked from the corner of the eye closest to the pillows. Though her sex ached, she felt helpless to resist the dirty need to fill her sex with two and then three fingers, struggling to add a fourth due to the shape of her paw. Thrusting her paw hard enough to smack into her crotch, Helena cried out in a mixture of pain and arousal.

How long would she go so denied?

*

Helena woke with a start and sat bolt upright. The room was dark, the curtains still open and there was no sound to be heard. What time was it? She must have drifted off after... The memory made even the frustrated dragoness blush. Had her mother seen her? Why was it so quiet? Was everyone already asleep? Heat coursed through Helena's body, abruptly reminding her of what had prompted her to sleep, or at least the exhaustion involved.

Scrambling off the bed, Hel kicked the bed sheets aside where they caught on her claws and cursed fluently. Nothing had changed! She was as worked up as ever and yet something was not quite right in her mind. She flung a shirt over her head and dragged on loose jeans, forgoing any manner of undergarment, and tore into the upstairs hallway. Hiss? She already knew her brother was not there, he was no concern staying with a friend, most likely to avoid her. Helena sprung down the hall past the bathroom with energy she didn't know she had to the one room that she truly needed to check, only to find a greater confusion: the door of the bedroom shared by Fyrdgon and Ropes swung wide, the bed perfectly made. Neither were anywhere to be seen.

Fyr was...gone?

Spinning about in a whirlwind of activity, Hel darted downstairs, checking each room in turn. Living room? No. Kitchen? No. Garden? No. Hall closet? Certainly no. So where were her parents? Was something wrong? Her stomach dropped. Had something terrible happened?

Arousal momentarily forgotten, Helena took ten seconds to breathe deeply and calmly, slowing her racing heartbeat. She licked her lips, mouth suddenly drier than it should have been. Wilfully ignoring her mussed hair, she drew her body up tall, as if to give herself strength, and strode outside in her bare paws. No one was in the garden either and the front door shut quietly at her heels but it did not matter: the barn was alight with the flickering electrics. As quickly as her heart rate had escalated, it slowed, and she berated herself for jumping to terrible conclusions so quickly, though it could not have been helped even in hindsight. Instead of relief, anger and frustration flooded her senses, paws turning hot as she clenched them into fists. Why worry her so? Her family did not think.

And Helena did not think as she trotted up to the barn at an easy jog, making no attempt to hide her presence. The night was eerily quiet as if it was waiting for someone or something to happen and a shiver ran down her spine as if somebody had poured a bucket of cold water over her scales. The fear of finding the house empty had not yet left her soul and she swore under her breath, increasing her pace until she was in a light, ungainly run. Her feet slapped against the rough stone path and she slammed both paws on the wide door, pushing it open with an agonising creak.

She thrust the door all the way to the wall and stood panting, her chest heaving as if she had run a marathon. The flickering artificial light within - in desperate need of replacement - betrayed the barn's occupant and the cougar's eyes gleamed wickedly. Stretched out upon a fresh stack of straw bales, Ropes' tail flicked lazily from side to side, the cougar as naked as the day he was born. His soft, uncut cock rested against his stomach where smears of pre-cum betrayed earlier arousal, and accentuated the lingering taste of male musk in the air, a subtle undertone to the crisp night pricking at her nostrils. Ropes pretended not to notice the dragoness and, though she would have had it otherwise, considering his indifference, Helena's arousal flourished in a blossom of heat. Eyes narrowed, the dragoness tapped a hind paw against the floor, claws clicking on the stone.

Tap, tap, tap.

Ropes chuckled, squirming into a more comfortable position on top of the straw. His cock hardened simply from the sight of the dragoness, nipples perked against the fabric of her shirt, even as his tone remained as cool and collected as always.

"What are you waiting for?" Ropes stretched out his body luxuriously. "Isn't this what you've been wanting, sweetheart?"

Helena couldn't argue with that. Or she could have done so, but it wasn't worth the fight when she could have the sexy cougar instead. Or at least that was what her lust-addled mind enforced, repeating the statement until the words blurred together and a low, vehement growl rolled from her lips. Taken aback, Ropes moved as if to comfort her and was promptly pinned to the straw in a draconian pounce. Squatting over his crotch, Helena snarled and clawed at her jeans like a creature possessed, desperate to remove them yet unable to quite catch the button and zip. Her paws shook terribly and she whined, the sound coming from deep in her throat.

Taking pity on the dragoness, Ropes rolled her over, pressing her gently down on to her back. He made quick work of her jeans, unhooking the button with one claw and yanking them down, as eager as she with his cock bobbing in the air as if in the affirmative. She murmured softly, unintelligible words, and he ran his paws up her sides, caressing her scales as he drew her shirt over her head with a gasp of appreciation. He would never get used to seeing Helena's bare body, so like her mother. He wondered what it would be like to get both of them in on the fun together. The dragoness lewdly spread her legs, separating her cunny lips with two fingers to show off the glistening moisture found there. Held up and away from her body, her legs trembled.

Ropes would not refuse such an open invitation. He dropped to his knees with a devilish grin, lapping directly over Helena's engorged clit, allowing her no time to adjust to the sensation. Crying out, Helena's back arched and she clung on to her bent back legs, claws digging into the scales; she hardly felt the sting or blood trickling down her legs. Her body trembled and her jaw fell slack as the cougar fervently attacked her most intimate region. The dragoness' tail alternated between still and slack, unable to consciously decide how to hold the fifth limb even as it thumped into Ropes' stomach. She made no apology, however, except in the form of a throaty moan, hind paws planting themselves firmly on the straw to grind her pussy into the cougar's tongue.

The cougar paused a moment, his daughter's juices marking the fur of his muzzle. Despite her whines, Ropes' lips quirked up in a smile, eyes alighting on a brand new grooming kit, neatly packed away in a red box. Though he doubted the dragoness would understand the intent of his actions, he slipped out one tentacle to hook and drag it closer, the box scraping over the stone gratingly. From within, he delicately selected a plain curry comb and a sweat scraper with a ridged handle for grip; a low purr rumbled from deep within his chest, that of a feline about to enjoy 'his' cream. He intended to do some 'grooming' of his own.

Helena half sat up on the bale only to collapse back as something large was pressed into her dripping pussy. Wet as she was, it was with little difficulty that Ropes pressed that handle of the sweat scraper into the dragoness' cunt, licking his lips at how her juices oozed out around the blue plastic. One could not resist a taste. Scooping his treat on to the tip of one finger, Ropes sucked it clean and dipped his muzzle gracefully to lightly tease her clit once more, all while working the handle of the tool deeper. His tongue swirled around her clit, raising the nub as it swelled with blood, and drove several inches of the scraper's handle into her pussy in short, sharp thrusts, just as if she was being bred by him. Her moans of ecstasy were all the encouragement he needed to continue, if the squirming, panting dragoness and the sight she presented was not delightful enough alone.

The dragoness was yet to see the curry comb and, while she begging Ropes without coherent words for more, he curled a tentacle through the handle and silently lifted it. The cougar had the ability to be exceptionally stealthy when called for and Helena knew nothing of the new 'toy' until the bristles brushed lightly over two erect nipples in turn. Digging her claws into the straw, she arched violently and gasped, eyes going wide as Ropes bared his teeth, his own eyes suddenly more predatory than ever. Again he stroked over her nipples, on the other side this time, letting the soft brush stimulate nerve endings that were too often forgotten. The bristles raised a flutter of soreness in Helena's sensitive nipples but Ropes had more than enough to play with, considering her four rather than two breasts, practically spoiled for choice. Swapping between his soft paw pads and the brush, Ropes mercilessly teased and stimulated the dragoness' breasts until she cried out as if on the very brink of orgasm, every muscle in her body shivering without conscious control.

It was too much, all too much. Every inhalation of breath shot Ropes' senses with a fresh hit of his daughter's arousal, his throbbing cock woefully unattended. He'd have to fix that. In a flash, he was up on top of the straw and his daughter, straddling her chest and facing down the length of her curvaceous body. How could he not find her as beautiful as her mother? Each dragoness was a different flavour and - Ropes leaned down to lap away her leaking arousal - why should he not sample every flavour on offer? He pinned the dragoness down with his bulk, holding her in place for the attentions of his relentless tongue as he pounded the grooming kit toy into her sex. Each thrust produced a wickedly lewd squelch and the dragoness lost a fraction more control each time, slowly but surely giving herself up to every dose of pleasure he had to offer. She was no better than addicted.

In such a position, Ropes bucked his hips, pushing his cock between Helena's breasts with a low murr. To have the soft mounds of scaled flesh squeezed around his dick was a manger of heaven in itself but to have such a beautiful dragoness on the edge of climax beneath him at the same time? Roused by the thought of Helena's impending orgasm, which he knew with a feline delight had been long denied in the way she so craved, the cougar ground against her breasts, leaving streaks of pre cum in the wake of his needy thrusts. He was becoming just as bad as the dragoness, regardless of her extended denial! Ropes grinned, imagining being just as would up as Helena, and drove the 'toy' deep into her pussy, letting the wider end with a rubber edge stroke over her clit every time he pushed in hard.

The dragoness soared over the point of no return with a hoarse scream that Ropes was briefly thankful she had little breath remaining for; it would not do to disturb the neighbours again. Pinned by the weight of her father's body, she could only writhe weakly and gasp out moans of a similar kin. Electric pulses shot through her body and her legs shook uncontrollably, only held in check by her father's tentacles, which wound around the errant limbs until the wild high had peaked and she slowly came down in ripples of continuing orgasm. The dragoness panted harshly, vaguely aware of her father's cock on her over stimulated breasts, though that was of little concern to her in the moment. Her orgasm seemed to last for minutes, though it could not have been longer than one, which was impressive by itself.

Overcome, every muscle in Helena's body fell limp. Only her chest moved, heaving as she sucked in great breaths, air scraping through her dry mouth and throat. She tried to speak, though all that emerged from her parted lips was a satisfied whimper as a tremble simultaneously wracked her body in the delicious afterglow. She would have lain there all night if Ropes had allowed her, finally having that one explosive climax that every second of desperation and arousal had been leading up to for days beforehand. It was incomparable. Having subdued his wild dragoness adequately, Ropes rolled off the straw and slipped between her thighs with a throaty purr, more than ready to have his fill. Rubbing the tip of his cock between her folds, his tentacles twisted like snakes, poised to strike and make their claim.

Outside, a twig snapped.

"What was that?" Helena hissed, sitting bolt upright, heart thudding in her chest.

Pausing, one paw wrapped around his throbbing length, the cougar listened intently. Something outside rustled and the unmistakable sound of shoe-clad hind paws on hard stone echoed, betraying the barns peace. Ropes gaped like a fish and shoved Helena off the straw bale, depositing her firmly on her hind paws in the process. Pushing his muzzle close to hers, he growled under his breath, pale eyes halfway to full panic.

"Get your clothes on!" He whispered, shuddering at how even that low speech seemed to carry in the night.

The footsteps grew closer. Helena stifled a nervous giggle, thrusting her legs into her jeans. Someone tapped the barn door as she fumbled with the zip.

"Ropes? Are you in there?"

Could it have been anyone else? Scrambling into his jeans with greater haste and balance than his daughter, Ropes stumbled to the door with his cock leaving an evident bulge in his trousers. Would that he could will it to go down! Plastering on a calm smile, he opened the door less than the span of his body, ensuring no entry and minimal sight inside.

"Fyr, honey." Ropes' voice was as smooth as silk. "What are you doing up here at this time? I thought you were staying the night with Bella?"

The red dragoness shook her head, squeezing her arms about her waist as she had dressed too lightly for the encroaching chill.

"Something came up... You know what that sister of hers is like. Too much to explain. What are you doing in there so late?" Fyr asked, stretching up on her tip-toes to peer through the crack. "Why are you out here? I thought you'd be in the house. You should be in the house."

"Don't worry." He smiled charmingly, stroking her chin with one of his tentacles. "Sadie, that's one of the mares, was acting up, think a fox spooked her. Seems to have settled down now."

Helena imagined Fyrdrgon bobbing her muzzle, accepting her father's meagre explanation. In all fairness, it wasn't a bad one, but she had no idea about the hastily dressing dragoness within the barn. Dragging her shirt over her head, Helena darted for the side door of the barn, pussy still dripping and glowing with post-orgasmic warmth. It was a miracle she could move at all with how her legs trembled, but somehow she slipped out the door into the cool embrace of night.

Pausing there for a moment, she considered their actions, a lazy grin enveloping her muzzle. She hugged her arms about herself and bounced on the balls of her hind paws, unable to contain her high spirits for the sake of appearances alone. Who was there to see her? She struck out for the house at a brisk walk, skirting well clear of the main entrance of the barn as she trusted the night to conceal her bath. Every step reminded her of the illicit tryst, the pleasant ache shivering right down to the tip of her swaying tail. Thinking of the unsatisfied cougar stuffing his cock into his jeans, likely leaving a noticeable damp patch of pre, her grin grew wider. Poor Ropes.

It would be good for the cougar to be needing her for a change!