“Oooo! Oooo!” she howled loudly. “Your spike—I can feel it in me! I can feel you fertilizing my eggs!”
They had gone on like that for quite some time—it wouldn’t do to have his first breeding sound too short, Dragon had thought. They had put on an effective display and when he finally left the room—after the little Pleasure Girl whispered, “Thank you! I swear never to tell!”—his male relatives had all congratulated him loudly.
The cacophony he and the little Pleasure Girl had made had convinced everyone except Zerlix, in fact. Dragon found that out because, a couple of days later, his Big Brother had come swaggering into their family compound, a satisfied smirk on his flat, scaly face.
“So, Little Brother,” he’d said, throwing an arm around Dragon’s shoulders—which were already broader than his own, despite their two-year age difference. “I went to see that little whore my Sire hired for your first spiking.”
“You what?” Dragon had rounded on him. “What did you do to her?
“I spiked her, of course—damn near fucked her brains out,” Zerlix bragged. “And you know what, it seemed like she’d never been spiked before. I mean, I don’t know—maybe your mammalian shaft isn’t hard enough or sharp enough to pierce a Saurian’s vaginal slit properly—but when I spiked her, she shrieked like she was fucking dying—like she’d never felt a shaft inside her before.”
For the first time, Dragon had felt something like Rage stir inside him as anger flowed through him, turning his vision blood-red. He could imagine—all too vividly—Zerlix forcing himself on the little Pleasure Girl, who had begged so pitifully not to be hurt. The thought of that—of the other male forcing an unwilling female—enraged him almost to the point of murder.
“You bastard,” he had growled. He punched his Big Brother and kept on punching as the invisible thing inside him gave him strength to beat the older male.
The two of them had rolled in the dust in front of the compound gates, punching and kicking and—in Zerlix’s case—biting like crazy. They hadn’t stopped until Komendant Vizlar had pulled the two of them apart.
“That’s enough, my sons!” he had roared, his forked tongue lashing in displeasure. “Why should the two of you be fighting like this?”
Dragon couldn’t remember when he’d been so angry. The image in his head of the little Pleasure Girl begging and cringing with fear and fright as his Big Brother fucked her—spiked her—was almost more than he could stand. She’d been so innocent—so small and helpless! His instinct was to protect her—why was it Zerlix’s instinct to hurt instead of to help? To rape and pillage and despoil? What was wrong with him?
Though he was well aware that from a Saurian point of view, the real question would be, what was wrong with Dragon himself. His Sire’s words, when he explained the situation, only reinforced the idea.
“He went to the Pleasure Girl you hired for me!” he had shouted when Rep. Vizlar demanded an explanation. “He…he took her!” He would not dishonor his Sire by using the cruder terms for breeding.
“And why should he not?” His Sire had given him a confused look. “Son, females are meant to be taken—it is the divine order of things. They submit so that our species can continue. And after all, you only Claimed the girl for a single night. I know you must feel possessive of her since she was your first, but you’re too young to take a wife and you wouldn’t want a Pleasure Girl for a wife, anyway. She went back to the blue light district where she will be taken by many males. It is our way.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” Dragon had said, refusing to concede his Sire’s point. “It doesn’t seem right to me that just any male can go there and…had hurt her like that—especially Zerlix!”
“Well, it was rather tactless of you to go and take the female that had only just been given to your Little Brother, Zerlix,” Rep. Vizlar had admonished his older son.
“Yes, Sire.” Zerlix had put on a look of sincere shame and repentance—a look he had long perfected—which let him get away with almost anything he wanted to do. “Forgive me—I didn’t think.”
“Apologize to your brother,” Rep. Vizlar had commanded. “And next time, think before you act.”
“I’m sorry, Little Brother,” Zerlix had said, with apparent sincerity, holding out his hand with its six stubby fingers and one long, triple-jointed thumb. “I will never do such a thing again.”
Dragon had been forced to take his adopted brother’s hand in a friendship clasp, watching as Zerlix’s long thumb wrapped securely around his wrist.
Of course, the moment Rep. Vizlar walked away, the look of sincere apology had faded from Zerlix’s scaly face. He had leaned forward and whispered,
“Tonight I’ll go to her again. And the next night and the next night and the next and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”