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Nagas are by far Kyrie’s favorites.

From a certain point of view, at least.

She has her own one in the brothel — she’s bought him as an egg and nurtured him into a very fine performer. He lives for mating and she is happy to provide.

See, Nagas have a similar relationship with snakes that centaurs have with horses, most notably that instead of legs, they have an elongated tail that they slither on, while having an upper body reminiscent of a human.

They stand just as tall as humans, if not taller, and their human parts have snake-like features, like the slit tongue or scales scattered all over their skin. But their most important asset is how they reproduce.

Males have a double penis, just like snakes and lizards do: joined at the shaft and forming a horizontal V when aroused, and hidden in the body when flaccid.

Kyrie loves that double penis, and so do certain guests of her brothel.

 

Her Naga is especially well-built: tall and muscular all over, dark skin tinted with the greenish blue scales, and imposing as he stands without clothes.

Right behind him is the boy, the Naga’s new plaything for the night. His hands are roped to a wooden pole above his head, and the pole leans backwards at an angle, making his chest and nipples stand out. But he’s not here to only serve as a display, not tonight.

He never really learned to pretend to enjoy sex, and simply killing him for stealing her vase would be a waste, so Kyrie has decided to rope him (quite literally) into performer duty. Well, he is going to be performed in, but still.

Kyrie keeps half an eye on her guests, sitting in comfortable armchairs all around the room, all turned towards the podium in the middle that has the boy and the Naga full on display. Now they’re at only the foreplay part: Kyrie’s servants — beautiful boys and girls of all species — go around serving appetizers and being oogled at in their paperthin and revealing robes. Just as should be: once the fun starts, they will offer more than wine.

Her Naga also goes around the room and allows the men, because her guests are only men this time, to touch his arms and body. He revels in being admired, and admired he is: Nagas rarely let people this close.

After everybody’s had their taste with him, he goes back to the podium, and she smiles.

He touches his opening, inserting a finger, like a woman would, and he puts on a show: throwing his head back, opening his mouth, gasping; adding a second finger…

Her guests lean forward, some palm themselves.

Then his hole reveals that he is no woman: first the heads come out, then she base of his double cocks, and the size doesn’t remind anybody of a lizard.

Snakes have small penises compared to their size, which cannot be said of her Naga. Each of his cocks is as big as a well-endowed human, the base doubly so. And the shape… it’s not a knot, per se, more like ridges along the way, three on each cock. But the base also has something tricky to offer: a harder, frill-like frame all around that she knows will provide extra friction — a magnificent sight indeed.

They look soft compared to his scaled skin, but they’re sprung up and ready, angling away from each other at the tips.

He turns around slowly with arms open, eyes closed, and lets them whisper and ooh and aah at him.

The boy behind him, tied and defenseless, whimpers.

The Naga grins, showing sharp fangs and a flash of that forked tongue, then slithers around the boy a few times. The boy tries to shy away from his touch, even though it’s only hands at this point, but obviously can’t. Even if he weren’t tied, he’d have no chance against the quickness of the Naga.

And the Naga knows this and enjoys playing with him: pets his chest theatrically, runs his fingers through his hair, even licks his face.

Somebody laughs in the audience.

The Naga is emboldened and makes the boy suck on a scaly finger, pushes it down his throat until the boy gags and coughs.

Her guests love every moment of him flinching and trying to twist away; buttons are being undone and sighs are being let out.

Her Naga then hitches the boy’s only clothing, a giant shirt up to reveal a flaccid and small cock. He emphasizes this by taking it into his — albeit giant — palm and making the comparison. He cannot tease the boy into hardness, but he teases some tears out of him.

“Please no, please don’t,” the boy hiccups, and somebody in the audience comes.

The Naga grins again; his long hair is falling into his face so he tucks it behind an ear, then lines his cocks up with the boys. His one member is twice as long as the boy’s only one, and much, much wider. The Naga waits until everbody can gasp at the difference, then pushes himself up to the boy sideways — he isn’t penetrating but demonstrating that his cocks reach above the boy’s navel.

Somebody else also comes with a soft grunt.

The boy isn’t crying from pain, not yet, but humiliation.

Her Naga pushes his legs up and out to show what’s between them; the boy tries and fails to hide his face by pressing it into his uplifted arms. The Naga tsk-s, then offers a finger for the boy to suck on.

The boy turns his head the other way.

The Naga shrugs theatrically, then pushes the finger into his hole.

The boy screams.

When the Naga offers the second one to his mouth, the boy sucks eagerly, and the audience laughs. But then the Naga doesn’t use that wet finger, instead he lines up all five, which the boy misses in his attempts at hiding, and pushes them all in at once.

Kyrie knows the boy has been prepared. Since his time with the werewolf, he’s had a knotted plug in frequently, and right before he was tied up, they emptied half a bottle of oil into his hole. But again, he never seemed to enjoy being penetrated, and his screams now echo in the silence as the Naga pushes his whole wrist up.

He gives it a few minutes while the boy trashes, screams and attempts to break the rope. Then the Naga pulls out and lifts the glistening hand to show it to the room.

Her audience cheers.

The boy’s chest rises and falls in rapid succession as he tries to get enough air.

Her Naga compares his hand to his cocks, and again, it doesn’t even compare when both of them are taken into account.

When the boy sees this, his pleas come in earnest.

“No, you will rip me apart, please don’t kill me!”

The Naga grins wickedly and approaches him slowly. The end of his tail is still wrapped around the stand the boy is on, but he still makes the motion into slow, predatory movements.

“Fuck him!” Someone shouts.

“Show him how it’s done!” Another encourages.

The boy is trying to use his legs to climb upwards, but he is only making it easier for the Naga.

The only way into him is to keep the heads close to each other, and so the Naga uses his right hand to hitch the boy’s left leg up while his tail keeps the right one out of the way, then he uses his left hand to grab at both his cocks and maneuver the tips together. He turns his hips back to show this to her guests, too, and then his focus is all on the boy. Namely, one part of him.

The werewolf knot may have been wider, but that only came at the end, when the boy was loosened from the rest of the cock. These ones are huge from the very first inch.

The boy howls.

But the Naga is careful this time. He goes slow, and he keeps his cocks together, too.

The boy must feel every inch, and the pain spreads accordingly — maybe one flash of pain, one thrust would be less cruel, after all.

When the first ridge catches his rim, his screams turn animalistically raw, blocking out every other sound in the room. The Naga pulls back a little, letting him sob in relief, then pushes the ridge past the rim, and with that, new howls from the boy.

Every set of eyes is at him, apart from Kyrie who also scans the room. Sweat drops down from many foreheads, and pants tent eagerly. Some already released the tension, but even they would be ready for another round.

These men would play a fortune to also have a round with the boy, to be able to say that they have felt the aftermath of being with a Naga on their cocks. But the boy is only her Naga’s tonight.

Once the Naga can barely hold his cocks together, he pulls back, then pushes in again.

Nagas don’t thrust while mating, but hers enjoys mimicking warm-blooded creatures and putting on a show to please her audience.

The boy doesn’t have the energy to put up more than a token fight, so his legs are released in favor of the Naga playing with his nipples and touching him all over. Then he pushes in and lets go of his cocks, lifting both hands to show what he has done.

The boy sags forward with a long, long scream.

The hard cocks stretch him at opposing directions, she knows, and it’s much worse than a knot.

Then it gets worse when the Naga pushes in the base, too, still without hands to show that he can. The hardened frill indeed catches, but he forces it in, pushing the boy up the pole a little as well, and then he’s all in.

The boy’s screams echo like sirens in her ears.

There’s a moment of silence, from the audience, at least. Then they jump up and cheer and clap, and Kyrie signals for her servants to return.

The incredibly high entry fees for tonight’s show entailed a free ride with her servants, and more to be purchased if desired. Her pleasurers sink to their knees or widen their legs to get to work, but a lot of attention remains on the podium, too.

They came for his pain, after all.

Nagas mate much more slowly than snakes or humans. Their hands mean they can hold their mates down, and they alternate releasing their seed between cocks; and, what is the most exciting, they don’t soften during their refractory periods. They have two to three releases per cock, each coming slower than the previous, but since they’re alternating… bottom line is, her guests have an easy three, maybe four hours ahead to watch the Naga mate.

Because it is mating for the Naga, even if he knows no eggs will come out of it.

Maybe one day, Kyrie will breed him with a female to see how things go.

But for now, it’s the boy that feels as shivers run down the Naga’s whole body, starting at his head and ending in his tail, once every couple of minutes or so, and they peak at his cock, whichever is currently about to release. He doesn’t thrust, but he rolls his hips to coax his release, driving momentarily deeper each time. And every movement shifts his cocks inside, and the boy wails with fading energy.

He stills for his first release, and only grunts softly.

Those of her guests that notice clap appreciatively.

They are losing themselves in warm bodies and wet dreams, even if their arousal originates from what’s on the podium.

The Naga kisses the boy’s eyelids and nose and face before the shivers and the rolling hips start again.