Phlague

The glow of the moonlight had always been his friend.

Heightening his senses and drinking in the dark abyss the lack of sun cast onto the grounds below him, he felt a cold smirk lift as he watched his plan unfold. It wouldn't be long now.

For months, he had patiently waited. For years, he had tormented the Dralan with just hints of his power. The Mihrs he claimed were nothing. The males who secretly spied for him were just specs of sand in a larger sandbox. The Dralan thought he had seen all that he had to bring, knew of all the power he held in this kingdom, but he was sorely mistaken.

And he was going to discover that in due time.

"My Lord," A voice broke through his deepest thoughts. The shaky voice of one of his males told him everything he needed to know. Bad news.

"What word do you bring?" He slithered, lowly.

He heard the male gulp and hesitate to reply. "The Dralan... he is... he's..."

Turning, his blood red eyes glowed, his stare penetrating the frightened male. "Well?!" He hissed.

The male quickly lowered his gaze, but strengthened his stance, as if awaiting a thrashing. "The Dralan... he is mating his female. He has convinced his council to mate with his Mihr and let her become the kingdom's future... Dralaq."

The news was like fire in his veins. His fists curled, just as his temper boiled, and with a grit of his teeth, he turned and looked out of his window again. He briefly heard the male behind him gulp once more, as if the mere chill of his reaction had dried out the air.

The Dralan was mating his puny female. A female of no noble birth or rich blood. A female surely incapable of birthing him strong heirs, and yet this was the choice he had made?

Oh.

A sudden laughter vibrated from his chest. It broke from his lips as his body shook with the thrill.

The Dralan was growing desperate and weak. Desperate enough to mate with a silly bahk, and weak enough to let his kingdom taste the bloodied outcome of it.

He was making his own destruction. It was incredible – he hardly had to do anything. The Dralan was turning more foolish at every hour, clinging to the idea that he would remain Dralan.

But this had all but secured his demise.

"When?" He voiced, the calmness of his voice startling the silent male behind him. The male quickly cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Within a fortnight, my Lord."

Two weeks. In two weeks, the Dralan would have secured himself a lifetime of blood. Blood that could secure his strength for when his plans were all laid out and ready to commence. There was still some way to go, but it would be foolish to deploy his males when he needed them now more than ever to finish his projects.

"Keep me updated on the progress," He voiced coldly, now slowly turning around to face the male. "I want to know everything. If I find that I'm missing even the slightest detail, you will never be able to feel a female scream on your cock ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

The male nodded with severity. "Yes, my Lord."

"Good. Now leave me," He ordered, dismissing the male who had started to sweat. He left as quickly as the words had been uttered. "I believe it is time to play..."

Turning towards his female tapestry, his limbs came alive as he laid eyes on the thinning, weakening females who were slowly wilting away. One had dried seeds on her cheek. Another had dried blood tracks stuck to her thigh. With every passing week, he added more detail to his good work. Until they had learned full submission. Until the only words they could speak were; 'yes, master'.

Two weeks was not enough time for his project to be done. He had at least a month to go before everything would be finished. Until then, he would let the Dralan have his silly little mating ceremony. Let him fuck the stupid little female and claim the bahk as his Dralaq. It was all the same.

In two months, that female would be the one restrained to his wall. It would be his seeds dripping from her lowly cunt. In less than one month, the Dralan would know what true power looked and felt like, if he thought taking a female as his Dralaq was just that. What the Dralan failed to understand was that all females were weak, and all males... well, all males were created with the same mind in the end.

Chuckling darkly, he heard the females on his wall begin to cry as he slithered up to them, shushing them quiet. He petted one young female, who's stomach had slowly begun rounding out with his sprouting seeds.

In less than a month, it all wouldn't matter. The Dralan would be dead and all the females would belong to him.

Including his Dralaq.