gryvain
You scrabble down the jagged dirt edge of the crater, sliding a few feet down to where the satellite has come to rest. You can see a big, red logo printed across the scorched steel casing: Pyrite Heavy Industries, LLC. As you approach, your reflection appears across the shattered surface of its solar panels, a million tiny Lexis looking back at you. Hey, good lookin’!

Before you can take a good look around, however, you catch sight of another figure looming up behind you in the mirror, giving you just enough warning to spin around and draw your Avenger SMG.

Behind you, back at the top of the crater, is a woman with a pair of dark, curling horns on her brow and a quartet of leathery wings at her back. She’s wearing a black leather jacket over a vest of slick, sleek silver armor... and she’s just brought a laser pistol out from the holster at her hip, holding it trained on your chest.

“What have we got here?” she calls down, flicking a forked tongue out over sharp teeth. “You don’t look like a Pyrite peon. Another wayward Rusher, is it?”

Something like that. “What’s with the gun?”

She smirks, and a cobalt-blue, scaly tail curls around one of her legs. “Nothing personal, sweet thing, but I’ve been tracking this bit of space junk too long to let some snot-nosed kid ruin it. I’ve got a lot of time and credits riding on what’s inside that thing’s drive.”
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“Wait, that Pyrite guy sent me here, too,” you call up.

The dragon-like woman laughs, shaking her head. “Sorry, kid, I’m not working for them. Now step away, eh?”
She’s a tall, plush woman in a dark jacket and silvery armor. A pair of dark horns sprout from her hair, curling over a head of cobalt-blue hair - the same color as the four wings coming from her back, and the scaly tail hanging behind her. The freelancer’s carrying a heavy energy pistol, charged up so hot that the barrel’s glowing with every shot.
The gryvain agent has turned you on too much to keep fighting. You give in....

You stumble back against the edge of the crater, gasping for breath. The gryvain woman stalks forward, effortlessly batting your Avenger SMG out of your hand with a swipe of her tail. Her clawed hand digs into the loamy dirt next to your head, and her chest presses in against your own, pinning you against the crater’s side.

“That was fun. You’re kind of cute, in a pathetic sorta way,” she says with a smirk. When you open your mouth to protest, though, she pushes her entire weight against you, making you eat your words with a gasp - before she thrusts her tongue into your mouth, silencing you with a rough kiss.
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You’re too stunned to resist before she can break it, taking a step back from you and letting her eyes run all over your body. “Yeah, alright,” she murmurs, tracing her hand down from the wall to your shoulder. Her other hand hooks into your gear, starting to pull it off. “Not much of a fighter, but let’s get you down on your knees and see if you can handle a dick.”

She gives you a push, and without much fight left in you, you slump down on your knees as she demanded, putting you more or less eye-level with her crotch. Now that you’re here, and not locked in battle, you can see a very distinct bulge between her legs, straining the front of her pants. The agent plants a hand on your head, keeping you right where she wants you, while the other hooks through her gunbelt, leveraging her breeches into dropping. As promised, a thick, tapered shaft of cyan cockflesh throbs into view with them gone, half-erect so close to your face that, with a little tensing from its owner, its slender crown rises up to rest against your dick-suckers.

“Go on then,” she purrs, brushing her claws against your scalp. “I’m waiting...”

There’s not much choice left to you. You slowly open your mouth and allow the victorious dragon-woman to guide you onto her cock, slowly spearing your succulent lips on veiny lizard-meat. She’s as thick around the base as an ausar’s knot, making you stretch your jaw wide to accommodate it. The tapered tip beats against the back of your mouth before sliding downwards, pumping your throat with slow, even movements of her hips.

Before you’re allowed to get complacent, or even just used to the oral violation, the gryvain pounds her hips forward, pushing your head back against the dirt wall and starting to hammer at your mouth, fucking you like a raging beast. You’re able to do nothing but moan and take it, letting the dragon-woman dominate your mouth. It isn’t long before you hear husky grunts from overhead, and something salty starts smearing across your tongue; first a trickle, then a tidal wave that shoots down your throat in thick, creamy spurts. The gryvain growls and claws at your hair, holding your head steady while she drives her dick as deep down your throat, making it bulge around the girth of throbbing dragonmeat being force-fed to you.
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“Fuck!” the gryvain woman sighs, taking a step back. Her dick drags out of your mouth, coming free with a wet popping sound and leaking a smear of pearly spunk across your lips and chin. “Well, guess your mouth is good for something, at least. Shame you’re wasted on the adventuring thing. Probably do better working at the next cathouse you bumble into than trying to jack a girl’s payday with a gun. Better luck next time, kid.”

She gives you a sultry wink and saunters off, swaying her hips and stuffing the hard drive into her jacket.

It takes several minutes for you to catch your breath - and stop coughing up her cum - before you’re able to gather up your discarded belongings and stagger up out of the crater.
gryvain