A Dragon's Slave Ch. 07.2 Truth

As I wash my body, I can't help but stroke my cock once or twice - it's fully erect, and it just feels darn good.

"Wait," Nightwing announces. "Keep doing that. I want to watch you..." I turn to her, and see that she's blushing lightly. I nod in agreement, and wordlessly begin to masturbate.

After about twenty seconds, I'm pumping semen into the drain of the shower. I look up at Nightwing, who seems thoroughly confused. "That was fast," she remarks. "Thank goodness you're not that fast when it matters..."

"I'm a fast masturbator," I respond with a shrug. "Should I do it again, or should I just finish cleaning myself off?"

"Finish up in there," she replies, a small smile working its way across her lips. "Then, I want you to walk out of the bathroom rock hard."

I frown as I shake my head. "Nope. I've got to draw the line here."

"You are my slave - there are no lines for you," she says, forcefully.

"No, there are plenty of lines. You pointed them all out to me, remember? If I ever become uncomfortable with something, I have the right to stop it."

"Yes, but I'm in charge, so what I says goes."

"Nightwing, if she'd wanted to have sex with us, she would have joined us in the shower," I inform her. "It's clear that she doesn't want to participate - and I don't want to freak her out and put her in a situation where we're both uncomfortable." Nightwing sighs and looks away. "Plus, I just found out something about elves that makes me look at her in a completely different way, so I need time to adjust."

"What could you have possibly learned?" She asks, clearly not buying it. I sigh as I decide to trust her.

"You can't tell anybody this - especially not Demetra. She'd kill me if she knew I told a single soul about this...and I mean that literally. She said she would kill me."

"Get to the point," Nightwing moans.

"Elves are aliens."

Nightwing responds with a blank stare. "Elves are what?"

"Aliens."

"I'm not very familiar with the concept."

"They're from another planet."

Nightwing gives me yet another blank stare. "I knew that."

"What do you mean, you knew that!?"

"It's common knowledge to dragons. Elder dragons that observed Elven Spectrums found that their life force traced back to the stars. That information has been closely guarded by dragons in a pact with the elves since its discovery, and is passed down through each generation."

"Oh," I reply, dumbly. "Wait, why didn't the dragon who discovered it just not tell anyone?"

"Because if a new elder dragon discovered it, they wouldn't know about the agreement our species made, and could accidentally break it."

"Oh," I reply, dumbly. Again. "Well...I'm still adjusting to it."

"Understandable," she replies. "Oh - son of a bitch!"

I recoil at the exclamation as I step out of the shower, finally turning the water off as I do. I grab a towel from the top of the toilet. "What's the matter?" I ask. I immediately regret asking as she begins to pull a black film off the back of her neck.

"I'm starting to shed," she grumbles. "Fucking...brilliant."

"You shed?" I ask, surprised.

"Of course I shed, I'm a reptile," she scoffs. "Mister 'I'm so smart that I'm an honorary Elvish citizen'."

"Sorry - you just seem so human sometimes that I forget you're a reptile."

"What do you mean, 'seem' human?" I'm surprised by the tone of her voice - she seems insulted. "I thought I was doing a decent job of curtailing my behavior."

"You are," I assure her. "And that's why you seem human. But you're not human - you're still a dragon, which is something your behavior sometimes makes me forget." I toss the towel I had been using aside, now that I'm totally dry. I think better of it and put it on the floor in front of me - the floor is dripping wet from our fucking.

Nightwing groans as she scratches at her back, and I can tell that she's getting irritated. "Slave, I command that you help me with my shedding skin. Take note that I am disappointed that you did not offer to assist immediately."

"Sorry," I mutter. "How do I help?"

"Try just getting the shed skin off," she replies, turning and leaning against the sink so her back faces me. I cringe slightly as I see how flakey her back has become.

"Why didn't this bother you earlier?" I ask, confused about the delayed reaction.

"It must have been the friction of my back against the wall," she replies. "I knew it was coming for the past few days, but I was just trying to ignore it - I like to get all the skin off at once, but now...now it's a moot point, because it's already started."

I nod, and begin to scratch at the flaky skin, getting a feel for how it's held on. "Coke on, get it off and stop poking!" She groans.

"Hold on a sec, I'm gonna try to find a pumice stone - it should work better than my hands."

"If I wanted you to use a stone, I would tell you to use a stone," she growls. "But I told you to do it with your hands. So, you will do it with your hands."

I'm surprised by her rigidity. "But - the stone'll -"

"I do not care. I only care that I commanded you to do something, and so you must do it."

"Fine," I groan, begrudgingly giving up my search. I approach her back again, and begin to carefully pick at the skin, occasionally pulling off large flakes at a time. I have to admit, it's...it's kinda gross.

"I wish to sit while we do this," she announces.

"Okay, I'll put out a towel so I can put your shed skin on it and not the floor."

"Okay."

I do just that, and Nightwing sits down on the towel. I sit behind her, and she scoots backwards into my crossed legs. She has me uncross them, and sits between my legs, her full behind rubbing against my cock. I hug her with my legs, and she leans forward, supporting herself with her hands on my legs. "Begin," she commands.

I continue to scratch, pick, pull, and prod. She hums occasionally, and I feel myself getting hard from the enjoyable pressure her behind places on my crotch.

After a moment, I have quite a lot of the shed skin off of her back, and on the towel. And, the head of my penis is occasionally pressing against her back.

"I see I'm not the only one enjoying this," she teases.

"Your butt is on my penis," I reply, rather lamely. "It's...arousing."

I see the faintest hint of a sly smirk on the edge of her lips. "How about when I do this?" She begins to slowly gyrate, rubbing her asscheeks against my turgid shaft. I grimace.

"Look, it feels great, but...I'm currently picking skin off of your back. It's probably the least sexy thing we've done so far."

"Then how are you hard?" She asks, ceasing her movements.

"Your butt is on my penis," I repeat. "At a certain point, I can't help it. It becomes an automatic response."

She nods, muttering her understanding. "Well, I was hoping for another round," she sighs. "But if you're not in the mood, I doubt it would be as enjoyable."

"Not that you wouldn't make me fuck you anyway," I mutter. I get a particularly large patch of skin off of her back, and she coos in delight.

"Seriously - how is this just starting? This is, like, really easy to pull off."

"I told you, it had been starting and I was trying to ignore it," she reminds me. "But now, I guess I have no choice."

"Yeah, I suppose so," I mutter in response. Another large patch of skin comes off with little to no resistance, and it strikes me as odd. "Wait, why don't you shed like snakes?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, like, all at once?"

"Well, dragons shed skin like humans do when they are...what's the term? For when the sun damages your skin?"

"Sunburn?"

"Yes, sunburn. We peel like that. I think it was established that it's due to our internal heat loosening the skin - kind of like warm water for a snake or other lizard."

"Ah." I peel off a rather large, continuous piece of skin. I can't help but scrunch up my face, as it thoroughly scuzzes me out.

"Once you're done with my back, I should be able to handle the rest," she announces. "It's not too - wow." Her wow is in reaction to a piece of shed I just peeled off that just keeps going, wrapping around her torso like toilet paper on a pretend mummy. I keep pulling, and it just keeps peeling, moving down her body in a spiral.

"I know you don't understand how annoying it is to have shed skin all over your body," she announces as it finally tapers to an end. "But it truly is infuriating - and it feels incredible to get off."

I grunt in response, as I'm already focusing on the next part of her back. Unfortunately, it ends up leading to shed that I have to take off of her wing.

"What do I do?"

"Just...tug it off."

"Alright..." I brace myself for her wing's movements, and begin to peel the shed off. Fortunately, her wing doesn't smack me in the face.

This goes on for quite a while longer, stopping when there's a knock on the door.

"There's someone here to see you," Demetra announces through the door. "Get decent."

Nightwing and I exchange a glance. "Who could be here to see us?" I ask in a hushed tone.

"I don't know, but I hope they don't report back to Deathwing...I wouldn't want him knowing that we behave intimately," she mutters as we stand, and she begins to dry off our clothes.

"Why's that?" I ask as I put all the shed skin into the garbage pail by the toilet. "You ashamed of me?" I ask with a wry smile.

"No - but I doubt he'd be happy to find out that I fuck the human that has control over the Void."

"Good point," I admit as I toss all the soaking wet towels into what I hope is a hamper. "How are the clothes?"

"Dry," she replies, tossing me my clothes. I catch most of them, grateful that the floor is dry now, since I dropped my socks.

After we get dressed, and Nightwing picks some shed skin out of the waist of her pants, I quickly fix my hair, and then start on Nightwing's.

"What are you doing?"

"Fixing you hair - it's a rat nest..." Despite her hair being short right now, it's still very messy. "Hey, would your scalp shed?"

"In this humanoid form, the scalp is made of harder scales that don't need to shed," she explains.

"Good - it would be very uncomfortable for you to shed your scales around your hair. Plus, it'd be gross. But I have no doubt that you'll still have to deal with dandruff..." She shrugs, and I sigh as her hair refuses to not stand. "Hold on, I have to wet your hair a bit..." I do just that, and now, heir hair lies flat on her head. "There. Now, let's go meet whoever wants to speak to us."

She nods, and we exit the bathroom together. I don't realize that I should have waited until we see the surprised looks our visitor gives us.

Our visitor is an average-looking guy, wearing casual clothes and with a plain face. I doubt he's too important.

"Hello. I, uh...I won't bother asking what you two were doing in the bathroom."

"My slave was assisting me," Nightwing replies, harshly. "I am not yet familiar with this body. And I trust that you, too, are a slave?"

"Yes," he replies, nervously.

"Then you should mind both your business and your tongue, say what you're here to say, and get out."

"Of course - I apologize." He claps his hands together, attempting to appear not as nervous as he really is. He casts a glance at Demetra, and I realize that I'm pretty sure he's trying to impress her.

"So, Deathwing would like to see you, Nightwing," he announces. "My colleague will be here shortly to escort you."

"Uh-huh," Nightwing mutters. "Why don't you bring me there yourself?"

"I'm not an escort - I'm a messenger. He wanted me to come ahead of the escort to let you know to get ready."

"Alright," Nightwing replies. She turns to me. "Slave, am I ready to meet with Deadwing?"

"Uh...are there any rules that you know of?"

"I did, but...everything is so different now that I doubt they apply."

I nod somberly. "Alright. Well, I'd say that you should just go as is - besides, you only have the one set of clothes, so..."

She nods, and turns to the messenger. I think she's about to thank him, but then she asks him: "Why are you still here?"

He gets flustered by that, and shrugs. "Well, I figured I'd hang around..." He glances over at Demetra. "Maybe help out with any...personal issues," he suggests, looking over at Demetra again. Nightwing opens her mouth to speak, but Demetra steals her chance.

"If you're going to try hitting on me, I suggest you..." She stops, and rolls her eyes with a sigh of exasperation. "Damn, I had something for this..." The messenger blushes a deep red, seemingly embarrassed.

"Really? Something for a dragon's messenger hitting on you?" I ask, eyebrow cocked.

"No, just for a guy hitting on me," she replies. "I had a lot of time to think up one-liners over the past few years."

I nod, remembering that she's spent the last two years in social isolation. Sometimes, I wonder why she didn't just try to live in a village, but then I remember that quite a lot of villages are very xenophobic - they tend to allow elves in solely for trade and travel, and maybe even a night's stay, but never an extended habitation.

"So, uh...maybe I should just get...going," he mutters, still blushing a bright red. He walks out the door, leaving it open as he turns back to say something. Nightwing rolls her eyes as she uses her wing to generate some air to slam the door shut, clearly fed up with the poor guy's presence.

"Weird guy," Demetra remarks.

"How so?" I ask, confused.

"He had little self-confidence, but he still tried to pull off the whole suave, helpful guy," she explains. "Kind of counter-intuitive...plus, he's got a huge nose."

"I didn't notice," I reply.

"Hard not to," Demetra replies. She sits back down and picks up her screwdriver and tweezers. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"I'll help," I announce as I sit next to her. Nightwing flops onto the bed, scratching at her arms to remove shed skin.

About five minutes later, there's another knock on the door. I realize that Nightwing has been silent the whole time, and has accrued an impressively gross pile of shed scales on the bed next to her. It's got to be at least a quarter inch high.

"I got it," I announce as I stand to open the door. I pull it open, and smile as I see a familiar face.

"Hello, Trishka," I announce. "Long time no see, huh?" She laughs pleasantly, but I notice that she seems to be a bit irritated. She probably thinks I'm hitting on her. That, and she's not getting paid to be nice to me right now.

Wait, does she get paid? I decide to ask her later. Or someone.

"Nightwing?" Trishka calls out. "I'm here to escort you to Deathwing."

Nightwing nods, seemingly lost in thought as she gets up and wordlessly follows Trishka. "Uh, see you later," the distracted dragon falls into the room before Trishka gives us a smile and pulls the door shut behind them.

I sigh as I brush the skin off of the bed and into a nearby trash bin, and flop onto the...surprisingly comfortable mattress.

Silence covers the room like a blanket, and the tension between Demetra and myself is palpable.

"So, look, Peter..." Demetra begins, sighing as she gingerly reattaches her arm, the connections grinding slightly and causing her to cringe as they mesh. "I think it's about time we talk. About...us."

"Us?" I ask, confused, sitting up in the bed. She approaches, and sits down on the edge of the mattress with a sigh.

"Yes, us." She rubs her eyes, and I notice that she has bags beneath them. I didn't realize she hadn't been sleeping.

"You're the first man I've been intimate with in over three years," she announces. "But at the same time, you're the first person to have shown me any form of...respect in at least four."

I frown as Demetra unloads onto me. Why is she bringing this up now?

"And...I didn't feel comfortable talking about this in front of Nightwing, so while she's out, I just...I need to make sure that you still respect me." She gulps. "Especially now that you know I'm an alien...kind of. I mean, I was born on this planet..." She makes a strange gesture with her hands. "Kind of..."

"Kind of?" I ask, confused.

"I was conceived on a satellite that orbits the planet," she explains. "It's actually a base established on your moon. I was born planet-side, however."

I scratch my head with an exasperated sigh. "Look, this is still...a lot to take in," I inform her. She surprises me by grasping my hands in her own, one warm and one metallically cold.

"I know, but you're the first form of social interaction I've had in years," she informs me, exasperated. I see tears well up in her eyes. "You helped me embrace who I am again, behind that mask, and...I just want to be sure that I didn't blow my only chance at my first friend in years..."

I smile warmly, and pull her into a hug. "Trust me - I'd love to have you as a friend." She releases a sigh of relief as she reciprocates the hug. "The fact that elves are from a different planet doesn't impact my view of you much - just my view of the elves in general," I explain. "I mean, it makes so much stuff make sense..."

"Yeah, everybody says that the people put in charge of colonizing this planet did a shit job of assimilating the cultures," she reveals. "Because they're just not fucking assimilated. Like, at all."

We share a laugh at that, but I'm not sure why. It's just...accurate. We relinquish each other's grip as the hug comes to an end, and I ask a question I just thought up.

"Have you ever left the planet?"

"Only twice," she replies with a lofty sigh. "I didn't really enjoy it much though - the first time was when I was sick with a virus native to this planet, so I was transported to an off-planet quarantine and treated. I was, like, eight.

"The second time was my mother's funeral. And on the same trip, to the courtroom where they let the politician that killed her go because of a 'technicality', otherwise known as a 'lofty bribe'."

"Oh...I'm sorry."

She shrugs. "It's okay. I crushed his hands and burned out his tongue."

I scoot away a bit. "Uh-huh..."

"Sorry - that was a bit inappropriate."

"Don't worry about it," I assure her, briefly placing my hand on hers. When I remove my hand, a new silence settles between us, and we sit there, awkwardly. I struggle to come up with something to say - but I come up short. Fortunately, I don't need to, as she turns to me and reaches for my hand. I oblige, and she smiles an innocent smile.

"It's been so long since I held hands with someone," she wistfully informs me. "I had forgotten how comforting it can be...such a simple form of contact..."

I smile in sympathy, though my heart aches at her words. I wrap an arm around her, and she readily presses against me.

"You're shaking like a leaf," I remark, shocked.

"I've just been alone for...for so long," she whimpers. I do a double take as I realize she's started to cry. "I just...I had nobody to talk to, no reason to smile, all I had was loneliness..."

"Demetra...why is this coming out just now?" I ask, holding her as she adjusts herself to be new comfortable. "You could've said something - we could have talked through this..."

"I told you, in front of Nightwing, I...we couldn't have this conversation. It would've been...tense."

"I understand," I lie. There were plenty of times when we could've had a conversation in private.

We remain in silence for a little while, the two of us hugging and just letting the time go by.

"I need a drink," she finally grumbles. "I haven't had one in over two years, and now, with all this shit going on...I definitely need a drink."

"'This shit?'"

She responds with a blank stare. "Yeah, this shit - end of the world, dragons having advanced civilization - the lot of it."

"Ah," I reply, dumbly. "So...where do you think we can get a drink?"