Dragon Master

In this darkness, there was nothing but his tongue, seeking the wetness, exploring deeper and deeper, only to return to the little button. Marged did not scream or curse, but something inside of her seemed to break and she began to cry silently. It felt too good. So long she had been in pain and fear, and with this simplest of touches, he had erased it all. She gave herself to the sensations, no longer fighting it. Floating, she escaped the pain and the fear and the years of loneliness that she had endured.

So far in the pleasure was she that she did not notice when his tongue moved up her body until he began to lick the burned and pierced nipples. He spent eons at each one, until her body sang with the pleasure. She arched to greet him, as his thick length entered the tight entrance of her womb. Wonderful stroke after wonderful stroke took her higher and higher into the clouds of pleasure. Through the blindfold, she could see a golden glow that must be the color of pure pleasure mixed with the red glow of passion. And she soared.

She woke in the huge bed, silken sheets wrapped around her naked body. Bran lay next to her, sleeping. His long black warrior's plait had been loosed and his hair spread in beautiful waves across the pillow. She studied him as he slept, admiring his body until she realized what she was doing. She should be finding a way to escape.

Escape did not seem very reasonable. The thick chain was once again attached to her collar and there was no way that she could see to unfasten it. It was not held by any locking mechanism she was aware of.

It took some time for her to realize that she did not hurt. Carefully, she touched the golden rings that pierced each nipple. They should have been tender, still a wound... but they were perfectly healed, as if she had had them for years. He had healed her with his tongue.

She looked at him with wonder and curiosity, watching Bran wake, stretching like a cat. His face wore the same look of self-satisfaction as one.

He reached over and tugged gently on the closest gold ring. Marged gasped, not in pain but at the swift surge of arousal that swept through her body. Angered at her reaction, she slapped his face as hard as she could.

He did not look angry, but sad as he left the bed and the room. She wondered what he was doing. He returned moments later with leather manacles.

"I am in no mood to wrestle with you, my Pearl," he made the now familiar gesture and the air around her thickened and held her still. Helpless, she could only stand there as he bound her wrists behind her back.

"Now, I think I wish to dress you." he left her caught in the hold of the air and went to the wardrobe and opened it. From a drawer inside he took a corset that appeared to be made of black dragon scales and in moments had it around her, tight and confining. Her breasts were presented well, the gold rings and small pearls drawing the eye. To the corset he attached strings of pearls that draped from the top center and looped around to the back.

He stepped back to admire her and then nodded to himself. He took from the wardrobe, black stockings that he put on her, attaching them to the corset also. On her feet, he put shoes with high heels that bent her feet into a most delightful pose. Yes, she was lovely-- all black and gold and pearls like a rare object. He snapped a lead to the collar around her neck and freed the air holding her. He loved the smoldering fire in her eyes as she glared at him. She held her tongue as he led her to the dining area. She wobbled on the heels but kept up.

He asked her to kneel and upon her refusal, he forced her down with the air. He wanted her so badly even then, but playing with her would wait. He cooked their meal -- a plate for her and one for him. "You need only ask, my pearl, and I will give you food."

He ate, watching her the whole time. He could see the hunger in her eyes. He wanted to feed her, but he would wait until she asked. She would give of herself of her own free will, but he would do what he could to help her to that goal. She needed to yield her anger and pride to him.

He finished and she had not asked. Unable to wait longer, he moved her from the floor to the table, bending her over it, spreading her legs. He smiled. She did not help, but she did not fight him. There was no need to make the air hold her for his pleasure. It was a good first step.

He opened the silken robe and pressed her hard length into her with a hot moan. Her own moan of response was encouraging. That she spread her legs a bit more of her own will was even more so. She may not have done it consciously, but her body ached for more of what she had had the night before.

He took his time, thrusting with long smooth strokes. She was wet at his first thrust and became more aroused with each movement. He played her body like a musician would an instrument, bringing her closer and closer to total pleasure. She came under him again and again.

She had no idea that his idea of torture was to give her pleasure until her mind could think of nothing else. She would spend the day being tortured with orgasm after orgasm. Some dragon-masters would use pain as the initial tool, but he preferred pleasure. It made the torture all the more painful when the pleasure was denied.

By lunchtime, Marged swayed as she knelt by the table. She was tired and so hungry all she wanted to do was to cry. She watched Bran eat, fighting the whole time with her own pride. He was done and rising from the table as she finally managed to overcome her stubbornness.

"Please..." her voice cracked.

He turned and looked expectantly at her in silence.

"Please, may I have some food?" There. She had done it.

He looked at her, barely able to even kneel up, beautiful in the dragon scales and pearls, the exhaustion and desperation shinning in her eyes. She was beautiful beyond words -- even more beautiful as she broke her own will, yielding to him. "Of course, my Pearl."

He got a bowl of the shepherd's pie he had made and resumed his place at the table. He spooned up a bit and held out the spoon to her. Marged opened her mouth like a baby bird and took the food.

When she was done eating, he gave her drink and the carried her back to the bedroom. She did not resist as he removed the leather cuffs and the ropes of pearls, tucking her into the bed. She was asleep before he had left.

* * * * * * * *

The days took on a pattern. Marged would find herself woken to the pleasure of Bran's love making. She no longer resisted and often found herself a willing an eager participant. When he was sated, he would dress her in a dragon scale corset and pearls. She would kneel in the kitchen as he cooked. Each meal she would have to ask for food, but it was no longer the battle of wills. The morning was often spent in that room that she now hated and adored. Orgasm after orgasm would rack her body until lunch when the ritual of the meal was repeated. There would be the afternoon nap and then more pleasure forced upon her until dinner. Dinner was followed by "games" usually involving her and more orgasms. She had no idea that pleasure could be had in so many ways. She learned how to suck him and give him pleasure as he teased her body.

Two maybe three weeks after her capture, Bran led her to a different room. It was his library and study.

"My sweet pearl, I will have to go for several days. I am giving you full run of the caves. I promise I will bring you back a treat. You will be fine, I am sure."

"Yes, Bran." She smiled sweetly even while her mind planned her escape.

She watched as he changed to his dragon form and left. She waited the span of an hourglass before she leapt into action, searching for a way of escape. The only way out was the cave entrance, and while she could see out of it, it was like there was a solid wall or air. She went from room to room, searching for some way to leave. Any of the natural openings had been sealed with his magick. She spent some time cursing him and finally sat exhausted and defeated on the bed.

The first day was just dull. She had gotten used to his presence. She explored the library, reading several of the books there. She removed the corset and fashioned a dress from a tablecloth. She spent hours in the library trying to find something that would make the wall of air at the mouth of the cave dissipate.

It was the second morning that she noticed it. She woke with an ache deep inside of her. By noon, the ache was a throbbing pain. She tried rubbing that little button of flesh that Bran was so fond of. She found the orgasm she ached for, but it wasn't enough. As darkness fell that night, she cried herself to sleep, aching for the feeling of Bran inside of her.

The third day was tortured agony as she throbbed and ached to be used by Bran. She gave up playing with herself, as the orgasm never matched what he had given her and only left her aching for more.

The fourth day, she put the corset on, just trying to feel him closer to her. The fifth day had her sitting at the cave's entrance, not trying to escape buy searching the skies for a glimpse of Bran.

The sixth day alone, she realized that is was not just the physical pleasure she ached for, but for Bran himself. She cried herself to sleep again, wrapped in his silken robe for his comforting scent.

* * * * * * * *

Bran came back with the predawn light. Changing into his human form, he went in search of his Pearl. She lay in the center of their bed, his robe wrapped around her naked form. It gaped and he could see the soft swell of her breasts and the gleam of the golden rings in the candlelight. He sat and watched her until she began to stir.

"Good morning sleepyhead," he greeted her as she sat up.

She blinked at him several times, as her brain caught up to what she was seeing.

"Bran!" she sprang from the bed and ran to him, throwing her arms around him, "You came back!"

He was surprised at the level of emotion but dealt with it. He hugged her back and then had her kneel between his legs. She looked up at him with pure trust.

"Seems you missed me, my Pearl."

She blushed softly, "Yes, Bran."

"Or did you just miss the pleasure I gave you?" his voice was serious.

She thought for a moment, "At first, yes, but then I missed you." She looked up at him, eyes intent on his, "I realized yesterday that I need you."

There was a soft click and the silver collar around her neck fell to the floor with a clatter. He smiled at her. Marged looked confused, "You do not want me anymore?"

"No, my Pearl. That is not true. I want you more than ever," he began to stroke the alluring curve of her breasts.

"Then," she moaned at the first touch, arching her back to present her breasts to him, "why did you free me?"

He rose, lifting her and carrying her back to the bed, "Free you? Ah, no, my Pearl. I did not free you. You did. You have truly given yourself to me and that freed you. In your submission is true freedom."

Marged smiled as understanding filled her. She said nothing more, but opened herself willingly to the one she loved.

Bran took her with great passion, knowing there would be plenty of time to show her the delights of her dragon side.