Dragon Master

He reached under her firm buttocks, cupping them in his hands, squeezing them as he began a more vigorous licking and nipping of her womanhood. He concentrated on the throbbing pearl, the dragon inside him so close to the surface as he nipped it, pulling it with his teeth until she screamed and pleaded for him to stop.

Marged thought she was going to die; wished she would die. Was this some dark magick that would cause her body to explode? She had no idea a woman could feel like this, "Please Stop! Oh Goddess, protect me! Stop!"

He lifted his head, a feral smile on his face, and his eyes glowing with the golden hue she had seen on the dragon. She screamed, struggling, pulling on the invisible bonds. Her whole body throbbed with some horrible desire. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, to feel something more, something that would ease the ache inside of her.

He stood and removed the rest of his clothing. The sight of his body made her breath disappear for a moment. He was like a sculpture of hard muscles; his skin seemed to glow with an odd energy. Her eyes were drawn to the cock that thrust from his body, rigid and strong. There was no possible way that it would fit inside of her.

He approached her, the dragon hunger stronger in him than he had known possible. It was all he could do not to transform and take her with his full passion. She would not survive. He had to have her though. He moved the air to lift her buttocks and he knelt on the bed over her. He had tasted her fear moments ago, now it was flavored with dragon fire. Unable to wait longer, he thrust into her in a strong motion, feeling her body stretch and yield to him. She cried out as her virginity was taken. He rode her, thrusting into the tight tunnel, claiming it for himself. He threw back his head and roared at the intense pleasure of her body. She responded with an awkward thrust of her own, limited by the bonds. He released them and thrust deeper, harder.

Marged had stopped speaking as the level of pleasure was pushed higher and father than before. She loved the feel of his thickness inside of her. She arched her body and suddenly freed from the invisible chains, wrapped her feet around his body, pulling him closer. Reaching forward she raked her fingernails over his skin as he thrust and thrust into her. The pleasure reached a level of pain and then there was only a golden glow of pleasure beyond words.

Bran gave a final thrust deeper than before and felt his body pump into hers. He opened his eyes enough to see that her skin now glowed with a golden-green glow. He realized then, that his previous plans had been changed in that moment of total passion. He would not give her up as he had the others. No, he would keep her for a millennium.

As she lay quivering, semi-conscious, he secured her to the bed with a chain long enough that when she woke, she could get to the garderobe. She was just as likely to throw herself off the edge of the cave, as she was to try to kill him. He threw on a black silk robe and went to the library. How could she as a mortal have the power of natural magick? He pulled down several volumes and began to study them. Several hours he leaned back in the leather chair, his eyes narrow with thought. It could have been possible even if the water dragons weren't known for taking tribute slaves. If she were part dragon, it would change the whole pattern of her training.

He stopped into the bedroom to check on Marged. She lay sleeping, her naked body splayed on the rumpled sheets, the silver chain curled from collar and pillow to floor like a metal serpent. It was almost enough for him to return and wake her, but he needed to know. Silently, he padded to the rear-most room of the cave complex. He had done nothing to decorate this room. In the middle of the room, a natural spring of water cast dancing reflections on the rest of the room. Stalagmites reached from the floor to stalactites, creating an odd sense of dragon's teeth. Crystal bits reflected the light from the pool.

He loved this room. It sang to his dragon-self the way that gold sang to dwarf. He removed his robe and standing naked, willed himself into his dragon form. He stretched happily, spreading his wings until they reached either side of the room. Much like a cat, he curled by the edge of the pool so he could stare into its depths. He touched a single claw to the surface and etched an unusual rune and spoke in the dragon tongue, "Arglwydd Bran of the West does summon Arglwydd Neifion son of Morcar."

There was a long pause before the waters rippled and the face of a blue-green dragon peered at him.

"Bran? Has one of the elders died?" his speech was slow and unhurried.

"No, wise Neifion. I have come to you seeking information."

Neifion rumbled a low laugh, "You seek information from me? I have nothing to do with your books, Librarian. What information could you seek of me?"

Bran inclined his head in acknowledgment of his title, "I inquire to learn of your last consort."

Neifion looked surprised, "What earthly importance could there be of my consort?"

"I have my reasons," Bran studied a claw for flaws and then back to the face of Neifion in the pool, "Was your last consort a mortal?"

Neifion drew back, his expression cold and commanding, "I am Lord Neifion of the Seas, who are you to question my choice of consorts?"

Bran lowered his head in postural deference, "I do not question your choice, Sea Lord. I inquire as I have within my cave a mortal woman who in her passions displays the glow of dragon fire within her."

Neifion said nothing for some time. Finally, he spoke, "Yes, my last consort was a human woman. She came to me in a shipwreck. I would have kept her for a long time, but she pined for the sun on her face and soil beneath her feet." His eyes clouded in personal introspection, "She loved me, but her need for the land was greater. She did not tell me.... What did she name her?"

"Marged."

"Pearl. A fitting name," his eyes narrowed with suspicion, "How did she come to be in your caves and in your bed?"

Bran gave a dragon shrug, "I found her on a stone as part of my tribute."

Neifion glowed with anger, "And you plan to give her to the demon lords?"

"No," Bran assured him, "On the contrary, if she proves to be of your line, I would hope in time there could be a match."

Neifion settled back, "Very well. And you wish to know how to tell if she is of my line?"

Bran nodded, relieved. Neifion was known for his quick temper and long grudges.

"I shall send you a pearl. Have her wear it. If she is of a lesser dragon line, it will turn pink as the coral. If she is of my line, it will turn from pure white, to the gray of the deep. If it turns gray, do not remove it from her, but contact me to arrange a bride price. I would rather have a daughter of mine bonded to you than the other dragons about."

"I am grateful for you assistance, Neifion."

The face of Neifion faded in the ripples and the pool calmed again. Bran stood and willed himself back to his human form. He always felt restricted for the first few moments as his mind adjusted to the smaller body. As he finished putting his robe back on, the waters of the pond churned. A water sprite popped its head out and looked about. Sighting Bran, it gave a quick bow and offered an alabaster box.

"My thanks," Bran took the box and opened it. Nestled in kelp, was a teardrop shaped pearl of pure white on a chain of white gold. The sprite dove and was gone.

With dragon grace he went back to the bedroom. Marged was awake and watched him with an anger he could feel on skin.

"I trust you slept well?" he smiled.

"Touch me again and I will rip your limbs from your body," she hissed.

He ignored her groundless threat and moved closer, offering the box to her, "I have a gift for you."

"I don't want it," she edged away from him, across the bed.

He sighed, "My patience grows thin, girl. You will take the gift. It is not an option. I will force you if I must, but it grows old. Do you wish me to bind you so you cannot move?" He whispered a barrier of air to keep her from moving further back, "Does that excite you? Do you even now ache to feel me capture you and take you again?"

She said nothing, but glared.

He offered the box again and she took it warily. Curiosity got the best of her and she opened it. She took out the pearl, holding it away from her like it might bite.

"You think a trinket will pay for raping me?"

He smiled, "Considering your passion and desires, I would hardly call it rape. But no, it is a gift from someone else. May I put it on you?"

"No!" Marged started to put it back into the box, when he moved, grabbing her wrist, his own eyes narrowed in a way that had her trembling.

"You will wear it. This is not an option. Put it on, or I will put it on for you."

"Fine," Marged opened the clasp and put it around her neck. The chain was long and the pearl nestled between her round, firm breasts. He released her hand and walked over to the table for another goblet of wine. He was eager to know, but he waited.

He could hear the soft jangle of the chain at her collar as she moved. His goblet full, he turned and looked at her. The pearl had changed from pure white to a deep and beautiful gray. He smiled at her in an almost predatory fashion.

Bran took a step closer to her, the wine forgotten. She was of dragon blood. So long he had waited alone, and here she was, waiting for him to tame her.

Marged saw the predator look in his eyes and glanced around for a way to escape. The barrier of air was still behind her. She wasn't going to let him work his dark magick on her again. He moved his hand and she expected to be forced open for him again, instead the chains fell away from the collar.

"Yes, my pearl, run," he gestured to the room, "Flee if you will; fly if you can. Deep in your heart you know you want me to give chase, to catch you and to mark you as mine."

His voice was almost hypnotic and Marged shook her head in denial of his words. She leapt to her feet and bolted off the bed and from the room. Bran gave a roar of challenge and followed. The goblet lay on the floor, the red wine spilled like blood on the smooth stone.

Marged ran for her life. She wasn't sure where she was or where to go, but she was sure he would not touch her again. From the bedroom, she turned to her left and ran down the curving hall, her footfalls seeming to echo through the whole cavern. The first room seemed to be a room of treasure. Gold spilled out carelessly on the floor from chests and bowls. Statues and art lay scattered about. There was no place to hide here.

She scampered from that room and hurried, panting. The next room was a closet of linens and the one after that appeared to be a guest room. She could hear the rustle of his silken robe back from where she came. She ran blindly now, desperate to find some place to hide so she could double back. She slipped into the room across the hall and froze in place.

The room was filled with horrors. Tables and beams were fastened with heavy manacles. A cage dangled from the ceiling and the walls were lined with tools that she could only imagine what they did.

His hand touched her shoulder and she leapt around with a scream of true terror. She began to back away from him, bumping into a table here and a wooden cross over there.

"Get away from me," her voice was hoarse with the fear. Marged groped for something and let her fingers wrap around a thick cane. She brandished it against him.

"Odd you should run to this room, Marged, this room of all the rooms. Perhaps your true nature calls for those things you do not know," he walked closer, unconcerned about the cane in her hand. "The chase can be exhilarating, but you let me catch you too easily. I shall have to try it again somewhere where there is more room. Perhaps I shall take you down to the forest some day and we shall play chase there.”

“Keep back,” she shook the cane at him.

“Do you know what this room is for, my Pearl?"

Marged shook her head and tried to maneuver around the things so she might be able to make a run for the doorway.

"This is where I teach my tribute how to obey. I did promise you a lesson in obedience, so I do not see why we should not use our time here wisely. Put down the cane, Marged."

"Over my dead body," she hissed back.

The anger in her eyes aroused his dragon nature and brought out the slow smile that had made some girls in the past cry just to see it, "If that is your wish." He shrugged in mock resignation and whispered a word.

The air around her seemed to flee and she gasped at nothing. It was as if he had taken all the air away from her. She dropped the cane without thought, grabbing at her throat as if it would somehow give her air. Seconds seemed to slide by her and the room became darker and darker.

Bran watched her carefully, waiting for the exact moment and then let the cool air rush back to her tortured lungs. She fell to her knees, sucking in the air. With her dazed it was easy to lift her to the nearest table and restrain her. Generations of dragon men had caught and tamed their mates. He had caught her, and now, he would start the process of taming her.

As reason came back to her, Marged fought the soft leather that encircled her wrists and ankles. She could hear the dragon-man moving around. She could only imagine what hideous tortures he had planned. She wished he would kill her and be done with it.

She was surprised to see him setting up candles around the room, creating a warm glow. He pulled a tall stool over to the table for him to sit on.

"Comfortable?" he petted her skin, "You are truly a lovely creature, my pearl. You are far too beautiful for this collar, but it is up to you to remove it."

"And I am supposed to wish it away, I suppose," Marged said in mock sweetness, her eyes betraying her tone.

"Close to that. When you have truly given yourself to me in mind as well as in body, the collar will be removed."

"So you are not going to kill me anytime soon?" her voice was almost wistful.

He ran his hand over her body, his eyes half-lidded with desire, "No, my pearl. You are worth far too much to me to kill."

"Lucky me."

He lifted a candle and studied the flame, "They say that some dragons have the power of flame within them. Some do. Can you embrace the heat? Is fire the element that rules you?"

Marged kept her eye on the small flame, worried what he would do. He spoke a word and she felt something push between the soft folds of her thighs and push inside of her. She could not help a soft moan at the instant touch of pleasure as the thickened air began to caress and rub at her.

"Yes," he purred, "embrace the pleasure, feel it inside of you, let it awaken you."

Marged could not stop the response of her body as she began to lift her hips to get more of his invisible invader. She was so caught up in the pleasure of this torture, that she did not see him tip the candle until the melted wax dripped onto her right breast.

She jerked at the bonds, unable to escape the pleasure, unable to flee the hot pain of the wax on her sensitive skin. It hurt; it was wonderful. With the skill of a master, he painted her body with the wax as his magick teased at her innermost parts until she screamed with orgasm. She begged him to stop, pleaded with him, but he knew that it was not with her heart that she did this. No, taming her, molding her, this would take time. No one would have her but him, and he would have nothing if not all of her.

Marged lay strapped to the table, the splotches of white wax hardened on her breasts and nipples. Bran had given her some water and covered her with a blanket, telling her to rest. He had been gone for at least an hour or more. The whole time she had struggled to free herself of the leather and the magick air that still tormented the cleft between her legs. How long would he leave her like this?

"So what do you think of pleasure?" his fingers caressed her face.

"Goddess!" Marged felt her body quiver at his touch. She had never heard him enter, "Wear a bell or something."

"You did not answer my question," there was a note of warning in his tone.

She refused to look at him, "You may force my body to feel the pleasure, but you will not make my mind embrace it."

"In time," he promised. "What do you know of your father, my pearl?"

"What?" she was thrown by the abrupt and unexpected change in topic.

"Your father, what do you know of him?" his fingers peeled away the wax and caressed her hard nipples

"I do not remember him, but my mother always spoke kindly of him," she loved and hated the sensations burning in her body.

"Well, I have spoken with him. No need to know how, but I have. I have paid the bride price for you and now I will give you the rings of our bond."

"I have no wish to be near you," Marged glared at him, as she struggled uselessly to free herself, "let alone to marry me!"

"Nevertheless, you know that you have no choice. I am surprised that the mayor did not arrange a marriage for you to be rid of you."

"I will not wear your ring," she vowed.

He just smiled and moved a tray near to him. Humming softly, he moved his fingers and the air tormenting her stopped. He took her right breast in his hand and began to tease the nipple until it was rock hard. He took a long needle from the tray and brought it to the hard nipple.

Marged began to scream and struggle with all of her might. A word of the dragon tongue had the air pressing down on her so she could not move at all. To her horror and then pain, he thrust the needle through the nipple. With skill he removed the needle and inserted a gold ring. Ignoring her curses and cries, he deftly pierced the other nipple. With artisan's skill, he hung a small pearly pendent from each ring and magically sealed the ring.

"Don't you look lovely!" he exclaimed, "but I need to punish you for your words. He lifted a nearby candle and moved to the soft, moist area between her legs.

Still unable to move, her body throbbing from the pain of the piercing, she begged him not to do this. She wasn't sure what it was he was planning to do, but whatever it was, she didn't want it.

His fingers parted the soft folds and carefully, he let the wax drip onto the button of flesh. She screamed and she screamed, as he found place after place for the wax to fall, peeling off the hardened wax and then dripping more. He dripped it onto her, until her body shook in a pain-induced orgasm.

Her body burned. Her nipples throbbed from the piercing and her soft flesh between her legs ached from the hot wax. Fire seemed to envelop her, fill her, feeding from the air he used to control her.

He was gone from the room again, this time leaving her blindfolded. The darkness and the warm air were a small comfort to this world in which she now existed. What were his plans? Was he going to torture her to death? In retrospect, she should have given in to the Mayor and then killed him in his bed.

The soft rustle of cloth and she knew he was back. She felt his hand touch her body and she could not hold back the moan that escaped her. Why did she respond so quickly to his touch? It must be his magick.

"I have one more gift for you, my pearl and then I shall free you for a meal and some rest. Do you realize that we have played the night through? The sun rises soon and I wish to see its rays dance across your bare skin,"

Marged was too spent for a comment. She just hoped that needles and wax were not in his next "gift."

She felt him move around her and between her legs. Her fear of what he would do made her keen softly. Then, the softest of touches, one so gentle it tickled, yet soothed. She felt his tongue caress the soft button in the her folds, she felt his hands stroke up her thighs and under her buttocks, pulling her closer to his mouth. How agile was his tongue, dancing over the burned and tormented flesh. Her fingers curled tightly as she tried to fight the pleasure he gave her.