Chapter Text
“I won’t marry him. I refuse.” Melisande’s voice carried throughout the hall; the courtiers murmured amongst themselves, taken aback by her words, unexpectedly impertinent.
“You haven’t any choice,” the Duke said, glowering. His face was bright red with rage as he addressed his daughter. He had been handsome once, but years of cruelty had worn deep lines into his face, and her sudden and loud objection to his recent announcement, made so publicly, had not been what he expected. “You will marry the Prince of Windmere, or I will have you imprisoned. If you flee, I will hunt you down and make an example of you. You will solidify this union between our nations, or I will treat you as the useless thing you are. You have no other choice.”
Her nails bit into her palms, and she gritted her teeth. The Prince was twenty years her senior, and had already executed three young wives when they had failed to bear him sons. Melisande had no intention of being the one to bear him one, nor of being the next one to fail. It was true, though, that she could not fight the Duke. There had been a chance her father might have relented when confronted in front of the court like this, but she had one option remaining to her, and she had spent many hours pouring over dusty tomes in the library over the past few weeks to ensure that it would work. “I, the Lady Melisande of the Duchy of Arlessa, hereby pledge myself to the dragon lords. I belong to them, I will serve them in whatever way they ask, and none else may claim me.”
The court erupted in chaos, shouting and arguing at this ridiculous statement, the sound echoing throughout the hall. The Duke rose to his feet, a hand raised, and the room fell into silence again.
“No one in Arlessa has invoked that rite in at least a century,” the Duke said, slowly, deliberately. “It is practically obsolete, a relic of an older time. It is nonsense.”
Her heart was beating in her throat. “My father, do you intend to tell them such a thing? It was only ten years ago that it was performed in Ysiland, and they certainly answered it then.”
It was a risk – everything about this was a risk – but she watched his face as he struggled angrily with this. Dragons, being evidently either immortal or just absurdly long-lived and certainly in possession of highly powerful magic, did not measure time as mortals did. Ten years was not obsolete to them, but the blink of an eye. The dragon lords had taken offence to the neglect of far dustier rituals than that, and their wrath was a thing of legends and of history. There was a glassy, scorched plain in the far south that was all that remained of a kingdom that had wronged the dragons in some way, though the details had been lost to history. Ignoring her request was highly dangerous, if it should get back to a dragon, and these things so often did.
“Any dragon that comes to see your rite, should any of our lords lower himself to bother with the likes of you, may very well strike you down on the spot for your impertinence,” the Duke said. “This rite is not for you to escape your responsibilities, but for true religious devotees. Of course, they also may accept you. Remember that .”
It seemed unlikely. It may have been ten years since anyone in the Kingdoms had invoked this rite, but it had been longer since any of these tributes had been taken. The last had been a merchant’s son eighty years ago who was said to have had a religious epiphany that this was to be his fate, and he, like all his predecessors, had not been seen again. The one before that, sixty years earlier, had been a farmer’s daughter, taken not in the rite but snatched from the fields by a lord whose attention she had somehow caught; the lords had simply taken one who caught their interest and claimed a tribute, as they had the right to. The fate of these tributes had never been clear. The lords would not speak of it. The priests spoke of it in terms of noble sacrifice, not a blessing.
There was only one answer. That she would meet with death at the Prince’s hands, as had all his previous wives, seemed far more likely than a dragon lord coming to even do so much as look at her, and even if one did appear in person rather than send a sign of acknowledgement, the most likely action was for him to direct her to a temple that would accept her. She could live with being a priestess, surely. That would not be a terrible life. It would be quiet and safe, at the very least. “If a dragon lord should choose me as tribute, I choose it willingly over being wedded to the Prince,” Melisande said, though the words were tight in her throat. “If I am refused, I will cloister myself with the priestesses and serve our lords that way, as is tradition. I have the right to ask this, my father, and you will not dare to refuse it.”
He could not.
“You will have your rite,” snarled the Duke. “I will not forget what you have done this day. I will arrange for your presentation at dawn, and may our mighty lords treat you as you deserve.”
Melisande was escorted to her rooms under heavy guard after that, and then everything was a flurry of activity. The rite properly required a week of prayer and purification, but she was not, evidently, going to be allowed this, despite the potential risk of insult inherent in neglecting such a thing. She was washed and scrubbed, her pale gold hair taken down from its braids and left loose, her skin painted with gold symbols, sigils and glyphs that would (in theory) attract the attention of the dragons in some arcane way. The exact designs had to be looked up in one of the scrolls, and the priest who came to do them openly leered at her naked body when he wasn’t checking the accuracy of his lines. She was given nothing to cover herself. The nudity was, of course, also traditional; the priests said that it symbolised your vulnerability before the judgement of the dragons. Of course, it would have been easy enough to hide her body from view until the rite itself, but the Duke’s orders were for the guards to march his wayward daughter through the castle, out into the streets, and finally to the altar that had been set up in the square in front of the temple, all while she was bare to the world. She knew her father; it was an attempt to shame her one last time, before she became a priestess and was out of his reach.
It would go smoothly. She was sure of this. Dragons were distant and inscrutable. Likely, none would bother to come see her in person. The daughter of a Duke whose duchy was large but wealthier in farmland than anything else might draw the interest of a dragon, but also she very well might not. Tributes had been punished with death, but for disrespect or deception, nothing like her situation.
Fires were lit around the square, strong with the smell of incense, and Melisande was made to stand upon the altar, hands behind her back, legs shoulder width apart. There was more of a crowd gathered to see her than she might have expected with such short notice, but evidently word had spread quickly of the Duke’s daughter and her rite, and all hoped to catch a glimpse of a dragon, or at least the rare sight of their lord’s daughter in the nude. The priests chanted, rang their gongs and beat their drums, and the sun crept over the horizon. Her father watched from his pavilion nearby, sneering.
Melisande shut her eyes against the expressions of the crowd as the wait continued. She wondered if they would permit the full length of time demanded by the rite before they took her down. She wondered if they would still permit her to become a lesser priestess, as was also traditional, or if they would break with the dragons’ law there, too. It was hard to judge how long the wait was, but her legs ached from holding her position.
There came a flash of prismatic light, and in the square was one of the dragon lords.
Dragons rarely appeared in their true aspect when they needed to deal with humans, and this one was no exception. He wore a glamour wrapped around him, that of a man in elegant, pale gold robes, his long hair white as snow and his face young and handsome, with narrow dark eyes and a pair of opalescent horns that grew up from his hairline, elegantly curving backwards as grandly as a crown. This was a shape that was more approachable, less terrible than the imposing presence of a dragon, and yet he still commanded the attention of every person in the square without a word. The crowd parted around him uneasily, a few hastily scrambling away as they discovered that the dragon lords were much less intimidating in the priests’ sermons than in reality. He crossed the courtyard, stepped up to the altar, and took Melisande by the hand to draw himself in very close as he examined her face closely.
“You know me as the Lord of the Mountain,” he said, loud enough for the crowd to hear. No one dared speak. The Lord of the Mountain was known to dwell in the tallest mountain of the continent, an imposing and craggy peak of the range that was distantly visible from the towers of the castle. He was said to have the power of storms, and seemed to have a particular fondness for artists and craftsmen, judging by those he gave blessings to. That was as much as anyone knew about any particular dragon. “You offer yourself to us, Lady Melisande?”
She swallowed, hard. Suddenly the safety of the cloister she had been seeking seemed much more distant. The lord was speaking in ritual, though, and it took her a moment to recall the correct answer she had read in the library, late at night before she had committed to this. “Yes, my lord.” That was the proper form of address for a dragon, in any context. “I am your humble servant, in whatever way you choose.”
“Hm.” The Lord of the Mountain took Melisande by the chin, looking deep into her eyes. Her head began to spin; his eyes seemed to have unfathomable depths to fall into. It seemed he could see all of her. He smiled suddenly; his teeth were not human, but the expression seemed kindly. “You objected to the Prince, I gather?” Now he was speaking at a lower tone, for her alone. How he knew this was inexplicable, but the dragons were often inexplicable.
“I did, my lord.” She was going to die. She was at once certain of this.
“And you thought yourself worthy of me, or one of my brothers?”
“My lord, I would not dare to presume. I sought to serve you, in whatever way I could, rather than throw my life away uselessly.”
He seemed to like that, and he appeared to make a sudden decision; his smile grew wider, almost eager. The Lord of the Mountain turned to the crowd, and announced in a thunderous voice, “This tribute pleases your lords. The Lady Melisande of Arlessa shall be taken to serve in the role of tribute. I would also remind those who make such decisions that it would be unwise to ignore part of any rite in future, regardless of your motivations, regardless of your lack of practice at any particular rite. Consider this your only such warning.”
There suddenly seemed to be a lot of bright light; Melisande had an impression of claws, talons at the end of long fingers, a long face full of teeth, and then only swiftness such that the world flashed away behind her in an incomprehensible way, a whirl of movement and magic and the general feeling of her body coming to pieces painlessly. The sigils on her skin were alight with a gentle buzz of electricity that rippled along her skin. The dragon had her.
When she came to herself again, Melisande found that she was lounging on a bed in an unfamiliar room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all of polished stone with bands of green and grey and pink, with a vein of bright metal through it that at least looked like gold. The bed under her was carved out of the rock of the room, built up out of the floor, but it was also soft, with plush furs that she could not guess what animal they had come from. The walls were hung with veils and tapestries, and the room was lit by softly glowing crystals. She was still naked, but the sigils the priests had drawn on her had painlessly burned away, leaving only the finest layer of snow white ash, barely clinging to her skin.
This, then, was the dragon’s home?
The door was an open arch hung with sheer silk curtains, the top of the passage high above her head as she walked through it, barefoot and hugging herself. She was not cold even if she was still nude, as the air was quite warm, but she hugged herself all the same. The room opened up into a cavernous room with carved pillars and bas reliefs of dragons in flight, dragons at war, dragons being worshipped as was their right, all in the same colourful stone, though the walls here were hung with gauzy curtains as well. At one end of the room was a large pool of water, with a gently sighing waterfall as the water flowed away into a small tunnel; at the other end of the room was another doorway that seemed to lead into a dragon-sized hallway. Looking up, the peak of the domed roof was made of clear crystal or glass, revealing a patch of blue sky, but most of the lighting here, as in the first room, was in the form of glowing crystals, some form of dragon magic.
Well, she had been taken by the Lord of the Mountain, so presumably she was inside his mountain. This was no mere cave, either; evidently the dragon lords had a taste for luxury.
“Ah, you’re awake.” The dragon stood in the middle of the room, still in his human-shaped glamour. She hadn’t seen him arrive. He smiled and stepped towards her. She stopped, and held still.
Melisande was suddenly keenly aware of how little she knew what to expect.
He cupped her cheek, then cupped her breasts. He pinched her nipple; she jumped, and he laughed.
“The moment I saw you,” he continued, “I knew. A true match in a volunteer, and you are breathtaking.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“The room you woke in is yours,” the dragon said, looking her over, poking and prodding and squeezing. “I will not pretend it is a sanctuary from me. I will enter and leave it as I please. Still, you may consider it yours, sleep here when you wish to, and do what you want with it, within reason. I will find you a chest for storage at the first opportunity.” Well, this at least suggested she was not going to be eaten or sacrificed, both theories she had read of, so that was something. “I am so glad I was able to come in person. The Lord of the Waves might have taken an interest in you if he’d come, but I daresay you will do much better with me than him.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Not that he’s a bad sort, only that his tastes might not be yours.”
“Yes, my lord.” She was shaking, she realised dimly.
“Rest easy, Melisande. You will be safe here, and you have the potential to do very well indeed. Now, turn your eyes upon me instead of the floor, and you will see a dragon in his full glory, a sight few mortals behold and live. You are blessed. I am making you my consort.”
Melisande lifted her gaze to see the illusion of the beautiful white-haired man melt away; the Lord of Mountains stood before her, in pale gold scales that shone with an opalescence of many colours. The Lord of the Mountain was a long, serpentine dragon. He towered over her, but also he was not gigantic; while certainly his back was broader than most human men’s, most of his size came in length. He had a long, graceful neck, a long body, and a long, coiling tail. His back feet were the strong, grasping claws of a bird of prey, but his front pair were more handlike, with long, clawed fingers. A mane of fine, white hair grew down his neck and halfway down his back, and she longed, irrationally, to put her fingers into it to see if it was as soft as it looked. His eyes were like the night sky, full of stars, and she seemed to fall into them when she looked too long. He was beautiful.
But his consort? Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips as her skin rose up in gooseflesh. She had no words.
The dragon ran his hand down her arm. His claws did not so much as graze her, and his scales were very warm, not very reptilian at all. “We were all very much taken by surprise by your rite, Melisande. We were almost not able to send anyone to collect you in time. Oh, we know very well where the fault lies, have no fear, but it does complicate things just a little that I have accepted you. You see, things are just a little bit time sensitive, just at the moment, and I’m afraid we must progress a little faster than you are prepared for in order for the magic of the rite you began to be finished properly.”
“My lord? I don’t think I understand. What do you mean, your consort?” She was staring, she realised dimly, imagining being at the mercy of a dragon in such a way.
The hum he made was pleased, indulgent, and he toyed with her breast as he spoke. “You will be joined to me in every sense. You will be my companion and my mate. Perhaps not the sort of service you intended to volunteer for, but dragons always reward dutiful service. Now, we really cannot waste any more time. We must consummate this arrangement,” the lord announced, and gently picked Melisande up with one clawed hand to walk her across the room. She struggled, automatically, but to no avail as he held her against his chest, ever so gently. Here was a low, soft couch, more than large enough to accommodate the size of a lounging dragon, and he threw her into it, casually, then climbed into it as well, curling sinuously around her so that she was surrounded by him.
The dragon pressed his nose into her neck, and breathed in her scent with a sigh of pleasure. “You are still quite nervous.”
“Ah,” she managed. It came out in a small squeak. “Yes, my lord.”
He licked her throat, his tongue hot against her skin. “For the moment, you need only relax. Let me look you over properly.”
Melisande shivered a little as he smoothed his hand over her body. His fingers were followed by his tongue, and occasionally the painlessly gentle scrape of sharp teeth. There was something very exploratory about his manner, and whatever he found seemed to delight him. He watched her reaction to each of his caresses, too, and when she wriggled reflexively in response to the rounded back of a claw being gently drawn across her inner thigh, he chuckled deep in his throat and repeated it with his tongue. From there, his tongue slid easily between her legs and over her cunt.
She moaned, reached out to grab hold of something reflexively, almost grabbed onto the lord’s mane of hair, and hastily aborted the attempt (because surely that was sacrilege, she thought in a strange sort of detached calm). He laughed again, and began to focus on licking her thoroughly, all while holding her in place with a taloned hand. His tongue was long and muscular, with a slender, forked tip that was able to wrap around her clit and manoeuvre between her folds. Her breath rose into a steady pant as he brought her inexorably to a climax. Melisande quivered in his grasp as he looked down on her.
“There,” the dragon said, his voice low and velvety. “That was good, yes?” Her breathless attempt at saying “yes” seemed to please him, and he licked her again, from crotch to throat. “I don’t suppose you’re averse to returning the favour?” He rolled onto one side, revealing that between his back legs was a slit in his scales, perhaps a little shorter than the length of her hand. He gestured to it, his movements elegant.
Melisande hesitated, still trembling. The dragon’s tail flicked behind her, pressed gently against her back, and she looked up to find his starry eyes were focused on her. His reptilian face was difficult to read, but his eyes seemed calm, patient. She swallowed hard, and crept forward to close the gap between them. She could do this. She must do this. This did not seem very terrible. She put her mouth to his slit. There was a heavy scent of musk once her face was close, and the taste that lingered on her tongue was almost spicy. The dragon’s skin was warm, and his soft, wet flesh beneath was hot in her mouth.
The dragon rumbled, appreciatively; a huge clawed hand came to rest on the back of her head, a gentle caress. “Good girl,” he said, almost a purr. “You’re doing wonderfully.”
Melisande had had a favourite lady-in-waiting for a time, with whom she occasionally sported with tongue and fingers, and this was not entirely different. Relaxing, she licked deeply into the dragon’s slit, trying to devote herself to finding sensitive spots. The hand on the back of her head gently pressed down, pushing her face into his hot, wet musk, and she became aware, abruptly, that her tongue had touched something which was emerging, into her mouth.
A cock.
By the feel of it, it had a tapered tip, and while it was firm on her tongue it seemed unusually flexible, able to feel its way into her mouth. She might have pulled away automatically, but her lord’s hand was firm on her head – gentle, always gentle, but also inexorable. She stilled herself. The cock continued to emerge, and her gag reflex appeared to have vanished somehow as the cock slid over her tongue. A second cock, then, began to emerge from the dragon’s slit, and while it could not fit into her mouth, it was as flexible and prehensile as the first one, and it slid over her cheek, leaving a streak of precum.
The cocks, finally, appeared to have fully emerged. They were long, slender – no thicker than an average human cock might be – with pointed tips and a strange swelling at the base of them. The one in her mouth felt as though it had reached further down her throat than she had any idea she could take; the other curled around her throat and squeezed , not enough to constrict her airway, but enough that she was conscious of it. Melisande made a small, panicked sound around the cock in her mouth; she could hardly move her tongue because her mouth was so full, and with her head held down she could see nothing. The hand remained on her head, but stroked her hair gently.
“Calm, calm,” the dragon soothed her, and then something pressed into her pussy from behind and she bucked again; it was the tip of the dragon’s tail, cleverly sliding in and out of her, sliding over her clit with a dexterity she hadn’t expected, and she moaned around the cock in her mouth. A dragon's scales were tough enough to deflect mortal weaponry, she knew that, but they were evidently also smooth and soft as silk over her skin and inside her.
Abruptly, the hand on her head tightened into a fist in her hair. The cock slid almost all the way out of her throat, and then back in. The dragon took her head in both his hands, then, and held her in place while he began to fuck her mouth, slow and gently.
The first cock slid up and down her throat, while the second continued to throb and squeeze. The tail in her cunt writhed in and out of her. Melisande could feel her body responding to it, even as her lord made use of her mouth. His cock pulsed and twitched and ejaculated down her throat; the dragon’s seed was hot, peppery, and it was noticeably warm inside her. It seemed to warm her completely, in fact, her body tingling and alight with feeling, and she felt a sudden gush of wetness, her own fluids, around the dragon’s tail. Her clit seemed to pulse a little with heat.
Hard and sudden, she climaxed. Her cunt spasmed around the tail inside her, wetness dripping down her thighs. Melisande moaned again as the cock in her mouth withdrew, only to be replaced by the one that had been around her throat. That one, she realised, had not climaxed with the other, and it was still firm. The first cock slid across her face, curled around her neck. She felt limp.
“Dragon semen,” said the lord, and she could hear the grin in his voice, “is something of an aphrodisiac, especially when swallowed. I am delighted it had such an effect on you. Still, more would be better, don’t you think?”
He rolled them over, pressing Melisande onto her back, and positioned himself swiftly to fuck her in her mouth. One taloned hand rested on her chest; it both held her immobile, and delicately played with her breasts. The first cock, the one that had already climaxed, slid across her face and cheek while she lay helpless. The dragon’s other cock slid deep into her throat again and again, his tail twisting inside her in a way that felt good but never seemed to be quite enough to bring her to the edge alone. If she had been able to speak, she might have begged.
He grunted and spent down her throat again; the heat suffusing her body only increased. Melisande thrashed and moaned, more aroused than she had thought possible. The only thing in her mind was finding another climax, but she had no power here. Her nipples were hard, her cunt wet and loose and ready for something much larger than the tip of her lord’s tail, and the feeling of the cock sliding back out of her throat one last time had her gasp and moan and shudder her way through another climax. Tears were running down her face and she wasn’t sure why, except that she was overwhelmed with feeling. Her mouth was full of cum, leaking from her lips.
The dragon lowered his beautiful head to her, nipping gently at her skin with his sharp white teeth. He licked from her breasts to her throat. “You wish to be fucked.”
She couldn’t answer.
“You wish to be made mine.”
She couldn’t argue ; she wanted to be claimed, for something to fill her in the vague hope that it might do something about her current state of being so aroused that it hurt. She tried to speak, but only whimpered, needily.
“I am a kindly lord,” said the dragon, laughing. He rolled her onto her stomach – she was so limp, she could do nothing – and then lifted her by her waist so her ass was in the air. She felt his tongue slide over her folds, dipping briefly inside her, and she began to tremble again, but this time it was arousal and not fear.
The first cock was hard again, and she had barely registered it sliding against her vulva before it was inside her. In her current state, she orgasmed again, almost instantly, but the dragon only began to fuck her in earnest. She had never experienced anything inside her larger than a few fingers, but now, it slid deeper inside her than she would have thought possible, as impossibly as it had fit down her throat without her body trying to reject it. Her cunt felt as though it were electrified. Melisande thrashed, struggling to stay still, until the dragon gave her a short, sharp swat on the back of her thighs and continued to fuck her.
Melisande was already limp by the time she came again, and then when the dragon climaxed as well, she did too in response to that new flood of aphrodisiac. He drew his cock out of her, and replaced it with the other, which was ready to go again. It slid deep and hot inside her, every touch on her inner walls lighting fireworks in her brain. With each thrust – powerful and deep, all the way to the hilt every time – she let out a small whimper, helpless, aroused. Her eyes were unfocused. There was only her lord’s cocks, and her hungry cunt.
She came twice more, almost sobbing from pleasure and overstimulation, before the dragon finally came a second time. She didn’t know what wetness was her own fluids, and what was cum leaking from her. There was a pause, though, and Melisande managed to crane her head to look behind.
The dragon rested a hand on her back, holding her in place, but his two dicks were now twisting around each other to form one large spiral double-cock, the bulge at the bottom of each shaft looking larger than ever. Melisande stared for a moment, murmuring “no, no” weakly; she could not comprehend how such a thing could fit inside her. The dragon gently turned her head to look away, and then she felt the tip at her entrance. It pressed, cautiously, but it could not slide directly in as the individual cocks could. Inch by inch, the dragon pressed his two cocks into her, until he reached the hilt. Her lower stomach felt distended by the sheer size of it. She moaned while he waited, letting her adapt, as overstimulated as she was.
And then he began to fuck her.
There was pain in it, a stretch she hadn’t expected, but it was overshadowed by everything else. His thrusts were firm and deep, and she was utterly at his mercy. He seemed insatiable, but she had neither the will nor the ability to do more than let him have his way with her. Melisande thought, vaguely, of being speared upon his cocks, and the mere thought of this tipped her over into climax. She convulsed and spasmed and clenched around the huge double-cock inside her as it continued to thrust and fuck her wide open.
The dragon gave a final, powerful press, and there was another sudden pain, enough that she cried out. The bulge at the base of his cocks had been forced inside her, and it seemed to be growing: a knot, like a dog, meant to tie them together while her lord pumped semen inside her.
Melisande whimpered through another orgasm as the dragon repositioned the two of them, her back against his warm stomach. The two cocks pulsed and twitched, cum filling her. She couldn’t even lift her head, but her new lord licked the side of her neck, tender after the violence of their coupling.
“You are wonderfully receptive,” the dragon said, then chuckled. His cocks throbbed, and delivered another load of aphrodisiac cum inside her. “Sensitive, reactive, especially vulnerable to the effects of my spend. Though I’m not sure you understand a single thing I say just at the moment, Melisande. You are completely cum-drunk, aren’t you? A pity you won’t stay this affected, but I suppose that means I will have to try harder, in future.”
She couldn’t answer. She was barely conscious, and she did indeed feel very nearly drunk, but as she slipped into nothingness, she orgasmed one more time, and she moaned .
Melisande slept, but her sleep was disturbed. The double cock inside her showed no signs of softening any time soon, nor the knot of deflating, and often she was wakened by a fresh squirt of drugged cum that had her clenching and moaning around the cocks inside her, or by the dragon grinding needily against her while they were joined. Once, the dragon politely murmured in her ear, with an impishness she had never realised so powerful a being could show, that he needed to adjust himself. What this turned out to mean was untwisting his cocks inside of her and spiralling them around each other the opposite direction, a process that stretched her wide for a brief moment while she saw stars. After that, she occasionally woke to him writhing his flexible cocks inside her, and she sobbed with pleasure.
There was cum leaking down her legs, seeping out from the knot that plugged her, due to sheer volume. Her mouth still was full of that peppery musk flavour, and she thought it was even dried on her skin. Her belly was swollen with cum and the cocks inside her, She would have found it difficult to recall her own name, had anyone asked. She had no sense of time. Had it been hours? Days?
And still, the dragon fucked her, cocks hard and swollen and writhing inside her, no end to the small spurts of semen that had her climaxing as each new load entered her body. Every nerve in her body was alive with pleasure, the skin of her shoulders as sensitive as her clit, and her clit so achingly engorged she could feel her pulse in it, so that when her lord stirred and took a moment to fondle and bite her breast just barely gentle enough to avoid breaking the skin, Melisande helplessly climaxed immediately. She woke, had between one and eight orgasms without any input of her own, and then slept again. This cycle continued. She lost track.
Eventually, the lord’s knot began to soften a little. He stirred, and got to his feet, walking on three legs so he could hold Melisande in place on his double-cock as he crossed the chamber to the large pool of water she’d noticed earlier. The jostling involved in this had her moaning and clenching around him. In her current state, the slightest of stimulus had her orgasming again. He laughed at her.
“Look at you . When I show you to the Circle of Lords, they will be extremely jealous.” The dragon’s tone was amused, even fond. “I have been without a consort for many long centuries, but I think you are already proving to be worth the wait.” He worked his knot out of her and withdrew, carefully, though despite all his care she did cry out from the sudden cramp, the ache of abused flesh, the rush of cum leaking from her suddenly – and yet, she was still dimly aware that she ought to hurt a good deal more than she did. She was lowered into the water of the pool, and it was warm, softly perfumed with spice and floral notes, and deliciously soothing on her sore body as a gentle current washed away the cum and sweat. “It will be less difficult for you in future, but recover a little and we can continue.”
“ Continue ?” This was not in the least a proper tone to take with a dragon, nor did she have the strength to do more than thrash in the water, but in the moment her terror knew no reason. “You’ll kill me, you’ll kill me, please, please –”
“Hush,” the dragon said. He curled around her in the water, and began to clean her with a combination of his hands (ever so careful with his claws) and his tongue. “You’re in no danger. You will not die . I would never allow that.” His voice was soft, kind, warm , and she was still hopelessly aroused from the dragon cum she’d absorbed; she grew still. “But I am weaving spells right now, Melisande. This is a ritual that cannot be skipped, and it is fed by sex.”
“This is,” she struggled for words through her haze, “a ritual?”
“To bind you to me, to make you my consort, you must be brought to this point first.” The dragon stopped to lick up the side of her neck as though he were savouring a fine delicacy, and she gasped and panted as her cunt spasmed and clenched on nothing again. “Do you want me to leave you alone in this state, Melisande? You would not be allowed to climax on your own, that would ruin everything, but perhaps if I bound you and left you somewhere to recover, unable to give yourself relief? Perhaps I could periodically make use of your throat, simply to make sure my cum’s effects do not wear off.”
That idea sounded tortuous, in her current desperate state. She shook her head. “No, no. I don’t want that, my lord. Please–”
The dragon laughed, nipped at her skin until another round of spasming shook through her. “I don’t think I have the patience for that either,” he growled. “Now. I have gifts for you. Hold out your hands.”
He reached to one side where a series of metal rods had been laid, in various sizes. The metal was unlike any Melisande had seen before, a pale yellow-white with an iridescent pink sheen to it, and each was smooth and polished. Taking one, he effortlessly bent it into a complete loop around her wrist, without any sign of seam. There was another band for her other wrist, one for each of her ankles, and finally the dragon brought the very last one and sealed it around her throat. The one around her neck was the loosest, and all were light, but none of them were of a size that she would be able to take them off.
“Think of it as your wedding ring,” said the dragon. He slithered around her, supporting her from behind, and rested his huge head beside hers. “Now, I give you a second gift. I give you a piece of my name: Urui.”
His name . No one knew dragons’ names. To know any portion of it seemed almost blasphemous. As he said it, the metal bands seemed to pulse and tingle pleasantly on her skin, a tingling that seemed to spread through her body like fire; Melisande cried out in surprise.
“Our names are our power. A small piece of mine binds you to me, now, and you are not quite mortal, so long as you wear these rings.” Urui sighed, content. “I will not have to hold back so much, next time. Perhaps the double knot was too much so soon, but I really could not resist. And you did manage it so well .”
He had been holding back?
Urui yawned expansively, a mouth of sharp teeth and long pink tongue, then nudged her neck affectionately. “I have a wonderful idea,” he said, and lifted her up onto the edge of the pool. “This jewellery is much more than merely pretty.” He brought her hands together, touched the bracelets together, and (astonishingly, she felt the magic, a tingle in the air that was not quite physical) they fused, as solidly as if they had been welded together. Her hands were bound in front of her. The dragon spread her legs, and fused each ankle cuff to the stone she laid on. Urui, still mostly in the pool, rose up from the water to study her pussy. “I really should have spent longer on this than I did, but I was impatient , you understand. Oh, such a lovely cunt you have, Melisande.” He extended his tongue, probed inside her as though he were using the tip of his finger, and she shuddered against her bonds. “It has recovered well from our adventures. Let me see if I can help it further.”
The dragon began to lick her. His forked tongue, so large and wet, slithered over her outer folds, then pressed deep inside her. He licked deeply, seeking out sensitive spots inside her, every inch of her, and whenever he found one (which frankly, at this point, was not difficult) she cried out. He took her through several orgasms, each more powerful than the last, and then gently bit down around her pelvis, each tooth pressing into her flesh in the sort of pain that only heightened her pleasure. His tongue pressed inside her then, and he began to fuck her with it. When he at last relented, enough orgasms later that she had lost track, Urui unfused the bracelets from where they had restrained her and returned her to the soothing pool, and promised to return shortly. Exhausted, she could only lie back in drowsy bliss.
Melisande did not fail to notice the cocktip that was emerging from the dragon’s slit, leaking precum as he went, however.
Urui was not gone long, but when he returned she felt his presence before she saw him. She would have been hard pressed to explain it in words, but as he neared she knew without looking he was there, and her body responded with a sudden wave of arousal. He produced food for her: a tall goblet, and a plate of small morsels and tiny sandwiches, of all things. The dragon slipped into the water, serpent-like, and after quickly dipping himself in and rolling through the water, he emerged to lounge in the shallows where he had left Melisande and curl around her so that she could lean back against him while they were both still half submerged. Then, he reached over to the food, and began to feed it to her, each piece delicately held between his talons as he put it directly in her mouth.
It was slightly ridiculous, she thought. She did not need him to feed her by hand like this, and it seemed slightly wrong for a dragon to serve her in this way. Still, it was hard to know how to protest any whim of one of the dragon lords, and she was exhausted enough to almost need the help. Further complicating manners was that still, occasionally, Urui would brush up against her in a way that had her gasping and trembling again, and she would fall back against him. She did not think the way he brushed up against her was always entirely accidental.
“You are afraid, still,” Urui observed, at some point.
Melisande considered denying this, but that seemed unwise. “I am, my lord.”
He clucked his tongue. “Please. When we are alone, you may call me Urui.”
She stared at him, at a loss. How could she possibly speak that way to a dragon lord? It was not for nothing that they were worshipped. Urui sighed, and gave her an affectionate lick from breast to forehead, and she came hard enough that in the water, half-floating as she was, she started to slip. She reached out instinctively to catch hold of something, and found that she had a fistful of Urui’s silky mane of hair. Even wet, it was as soft as it looked. Melisande froze, but the dragon only watched her evenly. She relaxed her hand, but did not move it. He licked her, again.
“That’s better,” he said. “You really were not prepared for any of this, were you? They’re meant to do that rather better than this. What did you expect?”
“Well, ah,” Melisande bit her lip, but she let her hand gently slide down Urui’s mane, to the rainbow shimmer of his pale gold scales – as tough as diamond, but smooth and warm against her fingers. When this was encouraged, she began to stroke his side slowly, exploring the shape of his body and feeling the flex of muscles under his skin. “I didn’t think anyone would even come for me, my lord – Urui. Or I would be sent to a temple. I didn’t think the tribute meant… anything like this.”
“Most people do not,” the dragon said, and popped a small fruit she had never seen before into her open mouth. It dissolved on her tongue in a flood of sweetness. “It is probably for the best that they do not. The appetites of dragons are powerful, and not suited for most mortals. Still, there are passages in the scrolls that a priestess is meant to interpret for you in preparation.” This seemed to bother him a little, but he shook his head. “They are not explicit, and knowledge of them is highly restricted, but it does give you some forewarning. In any event, I know of the Prince you were to wed. He is becoming a problem to be dealt with. We have been watching him, and your father. I would have happily sent you to a temple if you had not been, hm, so intriguing when I saw you in person. I have not seen any mortal so arresting in, oh, centuries at least.”
That was astonishing enough to hear that she had no ready response. Urui chuckled, deep in his chest.
“Foolish of me, perhaps, to take you this way when you hadn’t been prepared, but I have ever been impulsive. I might not be the bridegroom you were expecting, but I suspect I will be a much more pleasant and satisfying one. Drink.” The vessel he held to her lips may or may not have been wine, but it was icily cold and refreshing.
“My father said you would be angry that I had used the rite for something so… petty.”
“Your father is a fool,” the dragon said, firmly. “This is the ideal use for the rite. I am quite disappointed it has fallen out of fashion in the past century. You needed help, you meant your offer earnestly whatever your reason for choosing to make it, so I arrived to judge you for myself. I intended to send you to a particular isolated cloister in these mountains, so that you would be quite safe where I could easily keep an eye on you, but then, ah.” Urui laughed, and nipped gently at her shoulder, and she came again, whimpering. “Oh, it is intoxicating to see you this desperate. Eat. You will need your strength before we finish this ritual.”
“What,” Melisande started to ask, stopped out of fear, then rallied and tried again. “I don’t understand what this ritual does. Am I… allowed to know?”
Urui smoothed her hair. “The piece of my power held in my name will make you stronger, more resilient to accidental harm, a tiny bit closer to what it is to be a dragon. You humans are so fragile , you know. You’ve held up beautifully, I am so proud of you, Melisande, but I prefer to be less careful with my claws and teeth, if I can. Also, while I am terribly fond of seeing you this cum-drunk, you can hardly go about being this sensitive.” To punctuate his statement, the dragon grazed his talons over her bare breasts; it was painless but the stimulation had her seeing stars again. “You would never survive, and I do intend to keep you. We can save this sort of experience for particularly special occasions.” His tail flicked, like a satisfied cat.
That this sensitivity and near constant orgasming would pass was relieving, and the knowledge that she could experience it again, if she wished, was oddly alluring. The fact that it occurred to her immediately that this was, in fact, something she wanted was information she wasn’t sure what to do with.
“As well as a few surprises.” The food was gone, now, and he took the goblet away after she drained the last of it. “You look much improved, Melisande.”
“I feel improved,” she said, blushing.
“Excellent. Shall we begin with part two?” He reached under the water and pinched her clit gently between his claws; she gasped, more out of anticipation than anything else.. “I think you have recovered from my cum just enough that it is time for more. In your throat again, I think. It has more of an effect that way. How would you like that?”
She found she liked the idea more than she had expected. The taste of the dragon's cum, and how it had filled her with pleasure, not to mention the discovery that a dragon cock in her mouth was in general a desirable experience, was still intense in her mind, and even thinking of it had her heart beating a little faster, her breath coming faster. “Oh. Oh, please. “
“Oh, you are a pearl . How could I deny so lovely a request? Open your mouth, then,” Urui said, and she did, tongue slightly extended, pleading with her eyes so fervently that he laughed at her. He positioned himself over her so that she was seated under his belly, and then her mouth was full of the cock that she had earlier seen slipping into view and had been further revealing itself the entire time they had been talking, unbeknownst to Melisande. In her current state, her throat felt nearly as sensitive as her cunt, and she moaned helplessly and did her best to relax her throat, to go slack and receptive. One of her lord’s hands came to rest at the back of her head, and he fucked her mouth for several minutes from above her, while his second cock slid between her breasts – and, at Urui’s urging, she pressed them together for him. By the time he came down her throat with a grunt and a groan, her entire front was smeared with copious amounts of precum, and it did not take long for her body to become suffused with eager heat. Her cunt spasmed, achingly.
Melisande expected an exchange of cocks in her mouth, as before, and held her mouth open for it, but instead Urui laughed. As he slid out of her mouth, his tail wrapped around her middle and swept her from the ground as he moved swiftly from the pool to the broad, low bed across the room. Melisande wasn’t sure he had even touched the ground. He tossed her onto the bed; she landed on her back and barely had time to respond before the dragon was forcing her legs wide open and thrusting one of his cocks deep into her pussy.
She wailed; she was still loose and wet and open from her heightened state of arousal, but it was still sudden and overwhelming. Urui bent his head to bite her shoulder, gently, and then began to fuck her. She came at once, of course – it was such an intense relief to have a cock in her cunt, in her current state – but he continued to thrust deep within her in a swift rhythm despite her shuddering sensitivity. His second cock slid slickly across her stomach, not quite hard enough yet to take its turn, but recovering quickly. Her fingers clenched in the soft furs underneath her, her back arching. Urui’s taloned hand curled around the side of her head, and his thumb slipped into her mouth. She sucked it, without thinking; the point of his hard claw pressed sharply into her tongue, but did not break the skin – though she strongly suspected it still easily could, if he tried. The pain seemed to electrify her, as had the stretch of the dragon’s double knot, or the ache of oversensitivity, or the claws that were digging into her thigh now as Urui gripped her, also without tearing her skin. Urui was, she realised dimly through another gasping, spasming, desperate climax that had her babbling and begging, not holding himself back anymore. Their previous session had been gentle and romantic by his standards. This was fucking.
“Oh please, oh please, oh–”
It was just as well that she had no idea what she was begging for. Urui halfway snarled as he filled her with cum, and rolled his hips to grind into her as she clenched and moaned around him; he withdrew his cock, and rolled her over onto her front, pinning her under a huge clawed hand between her shoulder blades. Again, a cock slid into her, and all she could do was hold on while the dragon fucked her thoroughly, though a little slower than he had a moment before. It was at this point that she felt something at her anus, the gentle pressure of Urui’s slim and dextrous tail tip, using the copious musky cum to open her up. She was tight there, but Urui’s hand and the way he trailed his claw tips gently over her skin was reassuring.
She gave a moan as his tail pressed into her, rolling her hips back up into Urui pumping into her. He laughed, a low chuckle in his throat that seemed to vibrate through her body. He pulled his entire length out of her, for a moment letting her gasp and plead, her empty cunt twitching helplessly, then he drove back into her. Several thrusts had him filling her again, his cock throbbing inside her.
Urui rolled her back over, and leaned down to put his head near hers. It was not perhaps a kiss, but his tongue slid into her mouth and twisted around hers while the tapered tip of one of his cocks found her ass. She tensed automatically, but he was already murmuring in her ear: “Relax, Melisande.” He settled down, then, to gently work his way deeper, each thrust a little further in. His second cock, already recovering, began to slide over her cunt, rubbing against her clit before slipping inside.
With a cock in each of her holes, Melisande gave a cry of confused and exhausted pleasure. Urui slid his hand under her, and then leaned back, bringing her with him. He took Melisande by the waist with both his hands and began to fuck her steadily. Her position had her close against his chest, and she pressed her palms against his silky scales. By this point, it was difficult to tell where one climax ended and the next began. She was simply endlessly spasming, gasping, helplessly moaning.
The dragon gave a final thrust inside her, and she felt his knots inflate, cum filling her. Urui lowered the pair of them down onto the soft bed again, careful of her, and settled himself on his side so he could cradle Melisande in place while she was tied to him. She opened her mouth, trying to speak, but nothing coherent came out.
“Shh,” he said. His cocks throbbed and twitched inside her, letting out a small spurt of cum; she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his chest.
Unlike the first time he had knotted her, this time Urui seemed to mostly sleep – or at least, when Melisande woke throughout the night (judging by the stars visible through the ceiling, but time was difficult to count), the dragon was not playing with her as he had been. His cocks did continue filling her, and the taste of peppery, musky semen lingered in her mouth, but there was neither the eagerness nor the volume there had been earlier. At one point, she woke in the night to find his knots had deflated and he had removed his cocks from her, leaving her leaking.
She thought about leaving the dragon’s bed, about retreating back to that first room which was apparently hers, but Urui’s body was warm and soft, and he still had one foreleg and a heavy tail draped over her.
Melisande closed her eyes and slept the deepest sleep she had had for long months, ever since her father had announced the betrothal to her.
When she awoke, the Lord of the Mountain was curled around her, watching her closely. He gave her a gentle lick on the neck and tucked his head in beside hers.
“There you are. You slept well, I see.” Urui nibbled gently on her skin, almost lazily. “I think I may have been somewhat pent up. How are you feeling?”
Melisande thought about this for a moment. She had a general, full-body ache throughout her limbs, and a greater ache in her loins, but it was the satisfying ache that came after serious exertion or exercise, not injury. It was at this point she realised that there was no sign of the cum on either her or the bed; it had been cleaned away at some point. “I feel good,” she said. “I feel rested.”
“Sore?”
“A little,” she admitted.
The dragon laughed again, and coiled tightly around her. “A reasonable response. Well, even I am mostly satisfied for the time being, so you’ll have a chance to rest.” He uncoiled a little and reached to one side, taking a plate of food from a table that had been empty a moment earlier. She sat up as he passed her a mug of floral tea, and a plate of cheese and sausage and bread. It seemed like simple fare, but it was rich and filling. He ate from her plate as well, lazily, savouring small bites.
“I believe I know most of your story,” Urui said, breaking the silence. “Still, I would like to hear it from your own lips. How did this begin? What brought you to the ritual?”
Melisande looked down at herself, her naked body surrounded by furs and the gleaming scales of the dragon. Already everything that had been before seemed… oddly distant. “My father the Duke wants very badly to form an alliance with the Prince of Windmere,” she said. “He’s had very little use for me since my brothers were born, and the fact that I am,” she sighed, “too willful to make a good marriage match.”
“Willful?” Urui prodded.
“More studied than most royals would appreciate in their wife, and unwilling to be managed against my will.”
“Hm, yes. Arlessa, as a nation, is inclined that way, are they not?” Urui flicked his forked tongue as he thought on this. “So the Duke tried to force you to cooperate.”
“He did.” She was silent for a moment. “He has never been particularly interested in what I do, but I think he’s been… growing worse, over the past few years.”
“Oh? In what way?”
“He’s… building his army. I don’t know why, but he sits in council with his advisors for long hours, and what I’ve been able to overhear involves the ‘situation in Windmere.’ He has new advisors, and he’s executed three of the old ones for treason already. He’s tried to put me in the path of eligible bachelors that would benefit me before, but I think he expected me to be more, um, naive than I am.” Her face felt hot. After recent events, she still felt as though she had been very naive. “‘Willful’ is what my father says. I wasn’t easily swept off my feet, and the arrangements always fell through. I don’t think he realised that my governess was more than willing to turn a blind eye if I occasionally raided my father’s library for more interesting books than the ones she was given to teach me with.”
“Ah, a wise woman.”
Melisande smiled; she hadn’t seen the woman in ten years, since she was 14, but she retained fond memories of her. “I was lucky. Anyway, this time my father announced my betrothal publicly without telling me. I’ve never even met the Prince. My father told me that this would solidify an alliance with Windmere, and wouldn’t listen to my objections. I’d heard about his last two wives.”
Urui’s eyes narrowed. “We do try to avoid interfering in mortal affairs as much as possible, but there is a point where we can’t stand by much longer. Sometimes we can be slow to notice these things, but if it is a comfort, we had been in discussion on whether we should intervene openly or covertly. We were very much surprised by the rite.” He cupped her face a moment, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I am so glad I was the one to come. Was it a priest who suggested the rite?”
“No,” she admitted. The dragon’s tail twitched. “I asked at the temple for advice, or maybe about becoming a priestess myself. The high priest told me my sacred duty was to bow to my father and future husband and trust they knew what was best for me.”
“The high priest said what? ” Urui’s voice had suddenly grown very sharp, and Melisande looked at him in alarm. He snapped his teeth. “That is not how one of our priests should behave. Succour for the innocent is a sacred duty. If he’s become corrupt, or in the pay of your father – it cannot be allowed.” He shook his head, and began to busy himself combing through her long hair with his claws while she ate. For a moment, this was alarming, but his touch was gentle, and the task seemed to help him relax a little. She could feel the tension in his body ease. “The situation might be even worse than it has seemed to us. How did the rite occur to you?”
“A book in my father’s library reminded me of it. I wasn’t sure it hadn’t been, I don’t know, revoked or changed, or maybe there were exceptions. I… thought it would work, based on everything I could find.”
“And you were correct. You did very well, even if the priesthood failed you.” There was a dark rumble in his voice. “They may have to be corrected. But today, I would prefer to talk of pleasant things. You seemed to enjoy yourself?”
Melisande blushed deeply, her face painfully hot. She nodded.
Urui laughed, and ran a hand down her arm in a caress. “No shame, my pet. My appetites will likely keep you very busy, but I doubt you will find any part of that unpleasant or difficult. If you are in need of anything to make your life more pleasant or more comfortable, you have but to ask. A particular hobby, some decor to make your own room more to your taste, a musical instrument to play, a day in the sun on the finest beaches of the Jewel Sea. If it is possible, it is yours. I mean that,” he added, lifting her chin.
“A… hobby?” Melisande frowned, uncertain.
He nudged her gently. “Speak, Melisande. What do you desire?”
She took a breath. It seemed so petty. “I do like to sketch and paint. I also… I was working on an embroidered tapestry. It was nearly half done, and it keeps my hands busy. My father must have had it burned by now, though. New supplies, at least, so I could start again.”
“Hm, I see.” Urui’s talons on her scalp paused for a moment, then continued. “All easily arranged within a few days. For now, remember that this place is your home, and I wish you to be happy, even if you did not expect this outcome.”