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The tranquility of today used to be a far-off fantasy for Dimitri, now, it is his present, and the wars he battles are in the throne room and within his own mind. The King of Fódlan and the archbishop manage to find time for the two of them despite being pulled in every direction for the country and the church. They work in separate cities, far apart from each other with a mountain range in between, but using a set of mirrors that were uncovered in Garreg Mach’s treasury, they have been able to travel far distances in a matter of an instant by using each mirror as a tethered warp. For Dimitri’s own well-being, he was convinced, or rather mandated, by both his husband and dear friend Dedue to take a day off despite it being the middle of the week. Byleth had planned an activity for the two of them to do the night of his spontaneous day off yesterday, however, only if the king sleeps in and relaxes the entire day. He slept in until noon, never went to his office, throne room, or even training grounds. He spent his day in the gardens drinking tea with his husband. Eventually the archbishop was needed elsewhere, and sadly left the king to his own devices. Uncertain what else to do with himself since he’s forbidden to train, he ventured into the city dressed as a commoner. It was a lovely day off, but he dearly missed his beloved who he did not entirely share this relaxation with. He’s still working today, so Dimitri will take it upon himself to give him an enjoyable time tonight. Currently the first step of that plan is in front of him.
In the Archbishop’s quarters of Garreg Mach, on what used to be Rhea’s bed, is a set of clothes neatly folded and a small closed mahogany box. He lifts the garments to take them in, observing the dress that he will be wearing soon. It’s a maid dress, but quite unlike the maid uniform for Garreg Mach monastery and Blaiddyd Castle. Black with deep blue accented lace to the main dress, the skirt is short, far shorter than the ankle length standard, and ends with white lace at its trim. The sleeves are atypical of what is seen in Faerghus, more commonly a Leicester design with puffy shoulders that thin to slender and form fitting sleeves with long, black cuffs. The upper part of the dress is a button up with a white laced, rounded collar. It appears it would be worn with a ribbon or bow at the neck. Among the articles on the silken bed spread is a petticoat and a black apron. The apron would start at his waist, tie into a bow in the back, and it secures to the body with large ruffled straps over the shoulders. It too has lace on its main piece and ends with large ruffles similarly to the shoulders. He finds a blue ribbon and a brooch bearing the Crest of Flames that he assumes is fascinated to the ribbon when tied around the neck. On either end of the ribbon are Crests embroidered in silver onto the silk; both the Crest of Flames. A black leather dog’s collar as well. This is so far the most familiar accessory among everything.
The dress is tremendously feminine and Dimitri blushes from the mortification he knows he will face once he wears this and conducts the actions planned. He hopes in short distance from the archbishop’s quarters to the private office he will not be seen by a single soul. Should he be found, he’s likely to break though the stone walls in his panic and shameful escape.
A pair of black laced gloves are underneath the ribbon and brooch as well as black plain sheer stockings that end in simple lace and a garter with suspenders. A black laced maid’s headband with blue ribbons and lastly a black eyepatch comprised of laced and the crest of flames embroidered onto it. Oddly enough, there’s pale gold rabbit fur on the headband made into the shape of a pair of dogs’ ears. Floppy and short ears that stand up a tad. How silly of the professor to give him such a headband. He did mention yesterday he intends to do some mild pet play. There’s also a singular black laced bracelet with a long ribbon, but it is a little big and doesn’t quite fit his wrist.
He spots a pair of black heeled shoes. Leather, the pair has an unusual shape with it scooping and rising in the back with the front open until it reaches close to the toes; double-faced silk ribbons crisscross the shoes. From the back they appear like slim boots yet the front reminds him of a dancer’s shoes. It’s an impractical choice for a maid, however his beloved desires him to see them on his feet. For Byleth’s interest regarding such clothing has led Dimitri in the past to seek out Dorothea’s help on how to walk in heeled shoes. Her being an opera singer that regularly wears high heels both on stage and even into battle, it made her the best teacher. Although he was taught it doesn’t mean he has successfully applied such knowledge. He will be walking like a newborn fawn to his beloved.
Dimitri begins to undress and dons the new costume for tonight. It’s a struggle to put his arms through the sleeves and he knows if he flexes hard he will tear the seams. He goes to button the dress and runs into more of a severe problem. It does not fit, at all. It compresses his chest and clings to his frame skin-tight. He considers forgoing the costume, but he’d hate to disappoint his beloved by not wearing the dress he was so eager for Dimitri to wear. The man is subtle with his expression and after many years of knowing him he can tell from the look in his eye and the gentle curl of his lips how delighted and excited he is for this night. Dimitri adjusts himself as best as he can and forces himself into the dress, cursing that once he buttons it close it’ll stay. He will be careful to not tense his body and move with care. Eventually, he does button it close. Those buttons and threads must be made of steel for them to hold himself in. Looking down at his large and swollen chest with each pec the size of his own head, he wonders if the issue is due to his pecs being filled with milk. The night before after their planning Dimitri indulged himself in drinking the dragon’s milk and it seems nearly a full day later his chest is still retaining its effects. Ever since merging with the goddess, Byleth’s body has changed, the fact he can turn into a dragon, has both sexual reproduction capabilities, and produces milk despite not being with child is not even half of his exceptionality.
To his discomfiture, he can evidently see his puffy nipples poke through the fabric and leave dampness. Perhaps he should’ve milked himself. Then again, he does not enjoy doing such a thing to himself and leaves his chest heavy until Byleth is able to relieve him. Peering down lower, he realizes the skirt does not hide his member, seeing how it glimpses out and free to the spring air. Not only it hangs low but his balls as well, one large step forward and anyone could see him. Byleth explicitly stated he may only wear what was put on the bed and nothing else. The fact there were not undergarments other than a petticoat and garters proves that the archbishop wants him indecent. A red flush spreads like wildfire though him at the prospect that if he does encounter someone else on his short trek to the office, they will also see him flopping in the breeze. Should such a thing come to past, he will guarantee that individual amnesia for both of their sakes.
He puts on the stockings and hooks them to the garter belt, the apron, and ties the large bow in the back and the ribbon around his neck secured by the brooch. It leaves enough room for the leather collar. The headband and patch is next, followed by the gloves, and lastly is the part he dreaded the most are the shoes. Such shoes feel awkward on his feet and he isn’t overly fond of the laced gloves. Always one for leather gloves of high quality that are for protection rather than style. They will do for now; it is only for his beloved after all.
He nearly forgot it, the bracelet. He puts it on and finds it is indeed too big for his wrist. Perhaps it is worn higher up? However, the sleeves of the dress are in the way. He doubts it would be for his ankle instead and the collar takes up his neck. The chill in the night air reminds him there is another place for a solitary item of such shape and size. Of course, Byleth would do such a thing. Dimitri slips it onto his cock and finds it rests well just below his cockhead. He tries to move it lower to be at the base but the tightness from how he is thicker in the middle causes him discomfort. He settles for leaving it as it is and hopes that was the intention Byleth had. He doesn’t recall his beloved mentioning anything about his hair so he leaves his long hair the way it was when he walked in; half up in a ponytail while the rest is loose. Byleth prefers it this way regardless. He thinks it’s become too long, now resting to his lower back, but every time he has pondered about cutting it Byleth looks at him with a frown.
Fully dressed, he peers at himself in the standing mirror at the corner of the grand bedroom.
This is not the first time in the slightest that his beloved had requested him to wear a delicate and feminine ensemble, nor would it be the last. He doesn’t see the appeal of it being on himself. His large build with muscles and skin scarred from war has made him ill-suited to wear such a dress. Then again, his beloved has broad shoulders, multiple scars, and battle-harden muscles yet he does not appear so unsightly in such garments; quite the opposite in fact, it only highlights his beauty. That is not the case with himself, the king thinks, as he stares down that thing in the mirror. He’s never liked seeing his reflection. Of course, he does not think himself hideous, as he does indeed look like a facsimile of his father, but rather he finds himself a bastardization of his parents. The likeness to the strong and handsome man his father was but on him it is wrong. Missing an eye all by his own making, the other will always have the look of a beast, and that clinging sensation that urges him to reach and close his hands around his-
This is not the time to lose to the thoughts lingering at the back of his mind and giving in to the ghosts who whisper things he knows all too well. He is supposed to provide a lovely night for his beloved. He still hasn’t opened the box yet. Byleth also instructed him to use whatever he found inside.
Inside the box are only two items: a bottle of oil and an object with a peculiar shape. Elongated and curls upwards with a flat base, and on that base is more rabbit fur- this time sewn in the shape of a dog’s tail. He recognizes this item, one Byleth had commissioned from Constance after the eccentric mage proved to Dimitri of the many unique magical spells and artifacts she had created. This particular one is fueled by magic and is operated by a small device, that of which isn’t present. Dimitri can only assume it is in his beloved’s hand instead. Instructed to wear what was last on the bed, thus as the good and obedient student- or maid he is, he lays on the bed and begins to open himself up. In his eager haste he doesn’t take off his gloves. Byleth wouldn’t mind either way. To ensure the object rests well inside him and so Byleth may replace it with his own cock at any moment, Dimitri does well to spread himself wide. By the time he has finished and slipped in the toy that perfectly rests at the sweet spot inside him, he finds himself half-hard and his dread and embarrassment for the walk before him only grows. Should it go wrong, he will run with his tail between his legs in both meanings.
There is still one last thing he must do. Make the tea. At the realization of that and how the kitchen is far away, he feels his stomach flip. Should he undress again to make it? It’s too far and public otherwise. When he is about to undress to make tea, it catches his eye that on a table is the tea set, pastries, tea leaves, kettle, and tools for starting a fire. Convenient and considerate of his beloved. It would be dangerous to heat water in the bedroom, so he moves to the adjacent balcony. Fortunately for him it is private and he’s aware of the wyvern riders’ patrol patterns.
Dimitri heats the water, extinguishes the fire, and leaves it be to cleaned up later, and moves the hot kettle to set on a safe cloth in the bedroom. Countless of times Byleth has made tea for the two of them, but only a handful has Dimitri done so. He’s learned from the finest and will put his knowledge to use. He picks a blend he recalls Byleth loves to have at nighttime: Crescent-Moon tea. Once the tea is ready he puts the pot on the tray along with the tea cup and its saucer and a small array of pastries. He takes one step forward in the heels and feels the color fade from his face. It will take a miracle to accomplish this feat. The night will be enjoyable and worth every prior step, yet at this point of time he would rather relish fighting a hoard of Crest beasts than walk in these heels. The expression on Byleth’s face will be worth this, he tells himself as he leaves the bedroom in the heels. He agreed, so he will commit. Dimitri is a man of his word to the very end.
Slow and unsteady, he gradually makes his way down the stairs, across the hall, and to the door of Byleth’s office. At the snail’s pace he ventured he worries the tea has cooled. Not a single soul was spotted and he feels his sanity and pride- what’s left of it, to be safe.
Holding the tray with one hand, he knocks on the door.
“You may come in,” Byleth speaks from the other side.
Intaking a large gulp from the nerves he has of potentially ruining tonight, he confidently opens the door and continues his undignified fumble inside. His skin feels hot and he knows he is flushed crimson from head to toe. He nearly drops the tray when his lone eye strays from the floor to his beloved. He’s wearing the standard garments of the archbishop, the same Lady Rhea had worn, but he has set his opulent headdress aside to rest on the desk. Beautiful as always, and today his beloved is wearing red on his lips.
“Good evening, Your Excellency. I have brought you tea as you have requested.”
His Excellency stares hard at the canine maid, not replying but instead watching him closely like a hawk. The archbishop has already had a gaze that hides whatever lies in his mind. The desk is cluttered with scattered papers but he finds enough of a clear space for him to place the tray on. He pours the tea, trying his best to be elegant and dainty as the maid was taught, and he bites the inner part of his lip when a drop splashes over the edge. He lifts the teacup by the saucer and places it on the desk within reach of His Excellency, when he lets go he sees that his thumb had left a crack in the saucer. Praying that his master will not notice, he places the honey cookies and a cannolo next to the tea. He perhaps wouldn’t notice at all, since it appears he’s looking directly at Dimitri’s chest instead of the table.
With the tray now empty, the maid briefly hesitates on what he should do next. He scans the office and sees that other than the desk, the room is messy with books and papers around and Byleth’s empty dinner bowl and spoon sitting on the chaise lounge. He’s been doing paperwork for the past several hours, eating in his office instead of the dining hall as the humble blessed leader often does, and all this week His Excellency has been quite busy.
“Excuse me, Your Excellency. Allow me to clean up your office.”
The archbishop is mute and eats a cookie while his eyes do not wander from Dimitri’s chest.
Dimitri places the dishware onto the tray and sets it aside on an empty table. He moves to pick up some papers that had fallen to the floor when Byleth finally speaks again.
“Bitter.”
At those words, Dimitri feels a bolt of pleasure rip through him as the tail-like magical toy begins to vibrate himself him. He lets out a whimper and nearly stumbles.
“The tea is bitter.”
The maid turns back to his master to see him sipping on the tea while tauntingly tapping an object on his desk: the controller.
“I do apologize, Your Excellency. I shall remake the tea properly this time.” Another zap and Dimitri’s cock twitches.
“No need. Resume.”
A dutiful maid he tries to be, he resumes cleaning and endures to ignore his growing desire between his legs. He clears the floor and puts everything away or in the bin, all while wearing those uncomfortable heels. He organizes his desk around the man working and enjoying his desserts when he knocks over a stack of books and causing signed documents to fly.
“Watch it, dog,” the archbishop scolds.
“I dearly apologize!” He scrambles to the ground to collect the fallen articles when a stronger surge courses through him. He moans and sees a bead of pre-cum has dropped onto a book. He hastily wipes it up and fixes the mess he caused.
The steady hum against his prostate with sudden sharp waves will make him come at this rate and he has not an inkling what would happen if he came during this stage. Disregarding his want, he moves to the potted lilies and trims off the few dying flowers with the trimmers left beside them. He doesn’t fully pay attention to where he snips and accidentally clips a bud along with a wilted flower. The maid swiftly hides his error with the wilted flowers and discards them in the waste bin. He turns his gaze towards the archbishop in a sheepish manner unbefitting of the half-canine he is and observes if he was caught making yet another maladroit mistake. His Excellency pays no mind to him now. A sigh of relief, but as soon as Dimitri allows his guard to drop he feels another volt followed by his master clicking his tongue. More apologies, and the inept maid resumes his chores.
He had noted there’s a small pocket in his apron with a dust cloth already inside it. He takes it out and initiates wiping down the surfaces of the archbishop’s office. He and his disgraceful gait from the heels go without incident. He gets to the low table and chaise a few meters in front of the desk and bends down to thoroughly dust it, trying to not give attention to his hard cock. A good wipe here and there and then out of nowhere he feels a battering ram of force to his prostate as the device quakes violently inside him. He reflexively moans like a harlot and collapses onto the table. There’s no build-up nor steady release, an orgasm is forced out of him and he comes hard all over the table he had cleaned. Dimitri’s release is never light thus the table is soaked in his seed and gets all over his apron and skirt.
“When did we hire such a debauched maid? Aroused to release from simply cleaning off crumbs from my meal? You’d best clean that up.”
The costume and act was already embarrassing, but this takes it to another level and he’s certain he’s the color of a tomato at this point. As much as it flusters him, it also excites him, and his cock is still solid and will remain so for hours. He cleans the mess he made but there is so much and he only has one small rag. It ends up sodden and at this point he finds himself spreading the seed around instead of drying it up.
“You did not even come prepared, did you? Lick it up and wipe your spit off with your dress.”
Dimitri stills at the order; between the serious yet seductive tone of his belov- master and the humiliating act of doing something so degrading and submissive for him leaves him clenching his hole and wanting for more. Any sort of attention from his beloved master makes him run hot and obsession for him to grow. He does as he is told and leans down to lick the white.
“No. Not from there. Do it from the other side of the table. I need to see that you are doing as you are told to.”
The humiliated maid obeys dutifully and moves to the other side and begins to lick the table clean. He presses his sore and milk-filled chest against the table with the dog tail toy unashamedly exposed. The contact against his pecs stimulates them and he feels pleasure slowly build within them and milk to flow. He licks a long stripe across the wood and peers up with his one good eye at his master, who returns the gaze with a hunger. With his ears and tail does he look like a stray licking up water from a rain puddle to him? Regardless of what he appears as or does for his master, all he wants to hear from him are two words: Good boy. He hasn’t been a tactful maid this entire time, messing up and an incompetent mess with shaking ankles. Perhaps after he finishes cleaning this he’ll hear what he wants the most from his master. Steadily he licks the come up with his only complaint being how he wishes this was the archbishop’s seed, then he wipes off his spit with a clean part of his skirt.
Not seeing anything else obvious nor remembering if there was another part of the “cleaning maid” segment, he approaches his master not knowing how to proceed now.
“Your Excellency, is there anything other way I may be of service to you?”
Dimitri senses a relief in his chest and sees in that moment a button flies and hit the archbishop on the forehead. His large and swollen pecs burst through the buttons and rip the fabric, spraying milk from erect nipples. The maid’s mouth hangs agape from what had happened and how it left a red mark on the archbishop’s forehead. The stimulus to his chest must have made them swell with more milk until the herculean threads were at their limits.
“My most sincere apologies!” He deeply bows and holds himself in submission.
He hears a sigh and the archbishop shifting his weight in his chair. “Terrible, truly. What a clumsy and naughty maid you’ve been. You do understand you’ll be punished for this, whelp?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Lie your torso on the desk. And don’t spill the ink well or knock off the porcelain.”
The maid does as he is told and lies flat on the desk with his rear exposed. The archbishop gets up from his chair and walks around the desk to his naughty dog-maid. He grabs a handful of Dimitri’s cheek and then moves to roughly move the tail vibrator still active inside him. The action makes him whine and his cock to leak onto the rug. A sting of a hand follows next as His Excellency gives him a punitive smack. Another, and another. He’s using his hand, not a tool like a training sword nor a crop. Even as a punishment, Dimitri dearly loves his master’s hands on himself, the thought of those kind and gentle hands being capable of harshness makes him twitch in interest from the stark duality of his beloved master.
A few more slaps and the archbishop withdraws from his maid’s behind. Dimitri adjusts his rear and groans from the lack of attention. He doesn’t care if it’s a smack, choke, or gentle caress, he wants to feel His Excellency’s warm hands on his inconsequential self. The dog doesn’t dare disobey and move from where he is and hears the archbishop’s boots step away and uncourteously drop himself on the chaise. He waits patiently and silently for approval to move or speak. An entire minute passes yet nothing.
“I’ll give you one last task to complete before you may go. One you cannot fail.”
A long pause, so Dimitri speaks: “How may I be of service, Your Excellency?”
“Use that mouth and huge pecs of yours to serve me.”
Dimitri turns towards him to see that the archbishop has taken upon his half-draconic form; silver scales highlight his skin, horns twist from his skull, a tail swishes in anticipation, and the archbishop’s dress is lifted to showcase the scaled draconic cock he will service. The dog-maid kneels before his master and looks up to him in keenness. His Excellency lifts his chin and smiles at the maid then he offers out his clawed hand. A sign of respect to His Excellency and the offer of His blessing to a follower of Sothis. Dimitri gingerly kisses the back of the archbishop’s hand, then he kisses the tip of the dragon’s cock-head.
He grabs each pec by a hand and maneuvers to engulf the thick cock in the valley of his chest. The archbishop is by no means a small man, although much smaller than the dog-maid’s, the length and impressive girth would not be manageable should Dimitri’s pecs not be so vast. Using the milk that seeps from his chest and the beads of pre-cum that had already formed, Dimitri slicks up his chest to help with the glide. The cock is hot and heavy between the muscle and the maid arches his back and moves up and down the cock. Going low to where the tip presses between his lips and rising until he can no longer see the member. He finds a good rhythm and becomes lost in the sensation of the ridged cock rubbing against his sore chest. When the tip breaches his lips and leaves pre-cum behind he curses his inability to taste as he licks it from the corner of his mouth.
The archbishop smiles to his maid. A smile that is now a warning as that vibrator tail is suddenly cranked up to a rough pace that pulverizes his insides. He leaks a river from both his pecs and cock and feels the oncoming surge of his desire. The maid attempts to maintain his steady movements but the sensation leaves his mind numb and his ministrations chaotic and poor. He’s close; so close, but not quite there yet.
“You can do better than that, pup,” the dragon rumbles. His claws grabs a handful of golden strands and forces Dimitri’s mouth to take in his member. Instinctively, he uses his arms to tightly squeeze his pecs together while he sucks the cock in his mouth. With his strength and harden chest muscles, he becomes tight and binding around the dragon’s cock. Flexing his muscles causes the sleeves to reach their limit as well and the tight fabric tears down his arms nearly fully in half. The archbishop hisses through gritted fangs as he is milked by the maid. He yanks Dimitri by the hair off his cock and shoots ropes of seed onto his face. Both relax their tension and several pump out and pool in Dimitri’s cleavage.
The stern and dominant grip on his hair relaxes to a gentle stroke. “That’s a good boy. Clumsy as you are, I do love my sweet maid,” he whispers with a smile as he pets his canine maid. Such words and actions are dangerous. Such things have power over him more than anything else Byleth could do to him. He comes intensely with a tear in his eye and presses his face against his master’s thigh. He’s certainly has left a mess on himself, the chaise lounge, and the floor. He shall clean it up for his beloved master once he has been sated. He mumbles words of affection towards his master and how he yearns to continue being good for him. The vibrator weakens to its lowest setting and Dimitri is nearly on the verge of begging for his hole to be filled with his cock instead.
“You want to be a good boy for me? Then get to work and ride my cock.”
Dimitri doesn’t need to be told twice. The archbishop shifts further back on the chaise until he sits against it upright and straight, and the maid squats above him. His cock brushes against His Excellency, who lifts the skirt to expose the length more.
“What a massive present you have wrapped for me.” He grabs his cock and presses his thumb on the head and Dimitri moans. “Do you intend for me to unwrap this? Maybe if you’re good, I will. But right now, I don’t see any merit in rewarding you, sloven harlot.” He tugs at the bow and moves his hand to Dimitri's thigh, groping the muscle and pulling the straps of the garter. The archbishop’s hands are always a wave of passion to his skin and the act of him momentarily grabbing him only to release is a cruel tease.
The maid takes a deep breath and reaches for the tail to replace with the draconian cock. His hand receives a slap and he yelps in surprise.
“What kind of master would I be to dock my precious maid and pet’s tail? A bitch like you has another hole.” The archbishop snakes his hand behind his maid’s balls and rubs the perineum while he looks deeply into his lone eye for approval. Dimitri understands what he is silently asking permission for. In the many, many years since he had become archbishop, Byleth had learned and mastered a tremendous amount of magic. Whether it is customary magic in the royal academy, foreign from countries far across the sea, under covered from the forbidden library of banned ancient tomes and forgotten pagan spells that Rhea had kept and hoarded. Among these spells is one to temporally grant another a fully functioning second set of genitalia. Byleth will cast this spell on the king so he is no stranger to the sensation, although it is seldom used. It’s strange to him, but once his beloved’s fingers or cock enters him he becomes lost in the pleasure. Byleth has fully functional sets of both, and at times Dimitri has wondered how he feels when using the other. One day the dragon gave him the answer.
“Your Excellency, do you intend to breed me? Wouldn’t it cause a scandal to breed a common dog-hybrid maid?”
“Is that talk-back I hear?”
“No, not at all, Your Excellency. I would love nothing more than you filling up my womb.”
A mischievous smile pulls from the archbishop and he strokes Dimitri’s perineum. A few more and a new wetness forms and he feels slender fingers ease into him. He fucks the new hole with his fingers and spreads himself wide, exploring the tunnel inside and finding the right angles that make him whimper. He pulls out and relaxes on the chaise, a hand holding the controller while the other props his head in a lazy manner on the lounge’s arm. The archbishop looks to his maid with a command in his stare. He will relax and force Dimitri to do all the work from here on, not that the maid minds. He enjoys working hard for his master.
Dimitri takes some milk and slicks up the scaled cock. He doesn’t need to pump him to maintain hardness, the archbishop is a steel sword eager to penetrate deep into flesh. The dog-maid guides the cock to his entrance and lowers himself all the way. The fullness of his new hole combined with the continuous subtle tremor to his prostate leaves him breathing substantial already from the stimulation. He lifts himself up, using only his robust legs honed from years of horsemanship and mastering pole arms, until the tapered head nearly exits, and then descends as low as he can go. He uses the back of the chaise to support himself, mouth agape and panting, all while His Excellency sternly stares at him.
His Excellency will only permit Dimitri to do such a thing with him. Dimitri belongs to him; his possession, but the master also belongs to the maid. Only this maid will ever see the Divine Archbishop of the Church in such a manner. Humiliated by and subservient towards His Excellency he is, nonetheless there is a swell of pride and possessiveness, or perhaps obsession, the dog has to the one hand he will allow to hold his leash. Even as this lowly maid persona, he will always remain the indomitable king that he is. In his love and trust for the one who kindly reached out his hand and guided him, he will collar himself for Byleth.
“Is that the best you can do?” the master taunts. He increases the speed of the device and thrusts his hips upwards, chasing after him.
The maid takes that to heart and fucks himself rougher on the dragon cock. His cock flails under his skirt that can hardly cover most of his member, his pecs bounce and flow with every pound, and his balls lay on the archbishop. The intensity of the pleasure in his conjured hole, the quivering in the other, and how the scaled cock teases at his balls brings him close to a thundering orgasm. His Excellency grabs hold of each of his cheeks and rams himself upwards and Dimitri plummets over the edge with a moan that can be heard to the training grounds. With the skirt not covering him well at all, his master takes the brunt of Dimitri’s release. His are abundant and heavy that last long, and the archbishop’s raiment is soaked and face a white mess.
Claws dig deep into his skin and draw blood to the surface. His strength is far lesser than the savage dog’s, but Dimitri can ascertain he means to halt him in place. He complies to his master and looks to him for direction. Perhaps he shouldn’t had sullied him with his seed.
“Another mess you made, Dimitri. And on your master, no less.”
“I am earnestly penitent, Your Excellency.” Were his ears and tail real, they would be flat against his head and his tail between his legs.
“I called you here to serve me tea and tidy up my office, not to make a mess all over my furniture and my person. Take responsibility for your actions.”
Dimitri reaches out his hand to wipe off the come but the archbishop grabs his wrist and clicks his tongue.”
“Don’t claw at me. Lick it off.”
The maid’s cock jumps and there’s no way to hide how his face beams at the order. While he is still speared on his master’s cock, Dimitri is grabbed by his collar and pulled to where he is only inches away from those eyes that are as bright as the northern lights. His pecs are pressed against his master’s smaller ones and he licks the thick liquid from His Excellency’s scales and skin, messing up the crimson on his plump lips. Both his skin and scales are soft and warm, and how he dearly wishes he could taste him. Once he’s licked the come off, he sneaks in a lick and peck to the archbishop’s lips, desperate to go in for a deep kiss, and his hand impulsively travels to his master’s other sex. He receives a slap to his rear for the action and the dog-maid growls in reaction. Another slap and Dimitri pulls away and presses his lips and lowers his face. His master threatens to muzzle him if he outs out of line again. Right, he has a role to play and must stay within it. Another day he can continue that sudden indulgence. Maybe after they are done with their act his beloved will permit him a kiss.
They resume and it does not take much longer for the archbishop to reach the summit. He pulls himself out of the maid and shoves him further back to release onto his dress instead of breeding him. White stains the uniform further and even coats his chest in a new layer. As delightful it is to be saturated in it, what he desires the most is for his master’s seed to be deep inside him. Perhaps if he works hard enough the archbishop will think him good enough to allow such a thing.
Dimitri continues to pleasure his master’s cock, riding him long into the night and moaning on that thick inhuman cock. They change the positions, making the most of that singular chaise lounge. Each orgasm he clinches tight and milks the dragon for everything he has. Eventually, after many waves of bliss, His Excellency blesses him; filling his womb with hot seed and leaving him a bred bitch.
“Dima,” he hears his beloved muffled and small.
The king groans and shifts. He had fallen asleep while riding his husband and wakes up to find himself on top of him on this too small of a lounge for two men- one being average and the other nearly a giant. His lone eye focuses and he finds that Byleth is no longer in his half-dragon form and that he is buried in Dimitri’s chest. The smell of sex is strong in the air and their clothes are dried with milk and seed. And was the lounge always this close to the ground? He shifts his head and realizes all four of the legs broke. At the realization, he remembers how he broke that. Again. Furniture does not last long around Dimitri. When it happened, Byleth put him into a mating press until he became tired and sluggish, to which Dimitri returned to riding him until the two lost consciousness.
“How do you feel? Are you rested? Do you need a massage?”
Dimitri smiles at his husbands stream of questions. He's also been a caring person despite his how often he comes across as stern to most. He's only woken up now, thus it takes him to moment to fully compose himself and respond. He fears he’ll suffocate Byleth so he lifts himself off the smaller man. “I slept well. I enjoyed our ‘play,’ my beloved. I do hope you do not hurt from my weight on you.”
“You know I sleep the best when I have my face in my husband’s tits.”
It doesn’t escape his mind at all that he is still hard and somehow the device is still pulsating in his hole. The hex creating his other hole has long faded away returning the perineum but the enchantment in his rear remains strong. It aches now to be truthful, far too much stimulation in one sensitive area for too long.
“You were so good for me, babygirl. I’ll unwrap that present now.” Byleth turns off the device and shifts himself lower until his cheek presses against the throbbing member. He uses his teeth to undo the ribbon and pull the lace off his cock. Gentle kisses as pressed into his skin and he swallows half of his length. Dimitri groans and knows that already an absurd amount of pre-cum has be left on Byleth’s tongue. The mint-haired man pulls off and grabs his cock instead, moving himself back up. He seizes the back of Dimitri’s golden mane and pulls him closer to lie down on him. Theirs lips meet and Byleth allows Dimitri to devour him as that warm and gentle hand makes him lose his grip on reality. Between heated kisses, Dimitri rambles his love to the other man all while Byleth gently strokes him. A serene comforts washes over him as Byleth casts a healing spell for his rear. He didn’t notice it until he felt them heal, but he had bruises and deep cuts there.
The poorly made tea and half eaten cookies and a fragment of the cannolo’s shell remain on the table with an important document that has only half of Byleth’s signature. They will eventually have to part for the day; Dimitri has an important audience this afternoon and Byleth must finish his paperwork. However, for now, the two who are so madly in love they would move mountains to remain together, will temporarily forgo the day’s responsibilities for the company of each other.