Heart of the Mountain

"I'm sorry to have robbed you of your moment," she whispered, pausing to nibble at his ear again. "I know that you like to be on top, you like to be in control, you love to awe your lover with your sheer physicality. But I love how you react when I take the lead, how flustered you become, your every shiver tempting me further. As a dragon, I can sense things that you humans cannot. I can hear the quickening of your pulse, I can feel the blood rushing through your veins, I can smell the arousal leaking from your very pores. Oh, how it excites me..."

Her grip on his member tightened, Iden gritting his teeth as the pressure sank him deeper into her fleshy palm. It was like fucking a silk pillow, her scaly skin was dry, but so flush that there was almost no friction.

"Dragons can see heat, you know," she continued. "It's a wavelength of light, one that's invisible to humans. A warm glow seems to radiate from your body, your cheeks are burning, your member is bleeding heat into my hand like I'm holding an ingot of molten iron. If only you could see what I see, it's beautiful..."

"W-why do you go on about such things?" he muttered, his voice faltering as she gave him a gentle squeeze. She laughed at his question, as if the answer should be self-evident.

"Is the act of lovemaking synonymous with rutting to you?" she asked, pausing her pumping to circle the tip of his manhood with her thumb. "Have you never taken the time to appreciate the artistry of it? Not all encounters need be fast and brutal, the two participants racing to the finish like galloping horses. The lightest of touches can be as pleasurable as the sternest of thrusts, a gentle kiss can be as arousing as the most depraved and wanton acts. Tenderness, intimacy, the burning desire to give pleasure as well as to receive it. These are things that can bring one to new heights."

She resumed her stroking again, Iden sinking into her pillowy bust. He wasn't accustomed to foreplay taking this long. Even when he went down on a woman, it was more to get her ready than for the joy of it, merely a prelude to the main event. He couldn't remember the last time that someone had given him a handjob, it was such a mundane act, pedestrian. And yet the feeling of her soft fingers gliding up and down his erection had him so aroused that he could scarcely keep himself under control.

"Let's take things slow this time," she whispered, Iden shuddering as he felt the tip of her slimy tongue probe his ear. "I won't allow you to climax, not until I give you permission. I'll bring you to the very brink, and then I'll back off again, over and over. I'll keep you trapped in the state of wonderful bliss that precedes the release of orgasm for longer than you ever thought possible, and when your delicious agony comes to an end, you'll experience a pleasure far greater than any that you've felt before."

"What do you expect of me?" he grumbled, her sordid whispering making his head spin. "What's the goal of this game?"

"There's no trick," she replied with a chuckle, "I merely want you to enjoy it. Is the idea that one can revel in giving pleasure without the expectation of receiving anything in return so foreign to you? You're so focused on reaching the finish line that you don't stop to appreciate the path that leads you there. I'm going to teach you to revel in that journey..."

What could Iden say to that? He couldn't refuse her. If even half of what she promised was true, then he didn't want to pass up the opportunity, but why had she chosen this new form? Was it simply to give her even more power over him, or for some other purpose? She hadn't had any problems wresting the reins from him during their first encounter, after all. What was her interest in him, if not simply as an outlet for her frustrations, or as a salve for her loneliness?

"Show me," he mumbled, and he felt her grip on him tighten.

She began to pump faster, the pleasure robbing Iden of his faculties, and he leaned into her inviting body like he was sitting in a living armchair. He pushed his face into one of her breasts, feeling it deform around his cheeks, softer than any pillow that he had ever encountered at the inns that he frequented. There was a subtle smokey scent about her that made him think of burning wood, almost like the oak or cherry that was burned in a smokehouse to cure and flavor the meat.

Her stroking was so relaxing, it was almost enough to lull him to sleep, but the sparks of pleasure kept jolting him back to his senses. Isabelle was an artist with her hands, alternating her grip and speed so that he could never grow entirely accustomed to the sensation, making him writhe in her lap. She nibbled and licked at his ear all the while, pinching his neck in her teeth, her free hand roaming up and down his torso as she drew shapes on his skin with her claws. She whispered to him, little of it coherent to him in his fugue state, but what he could pick out was sordid and shameless.

She kept it up for what must have been minutes, until Iden felt the familiar pressure of an orgasm welling. Pleasure rolled over him like a tide crashing against the rocks, tied to the deft movements of her soft hand, each more powerful than the last. How could such a simple act make him feel this way? It was almost like being drunk, he couldn't concentrate, every throb of sensation scattering his thoughts to the wind.

"Are you...casting some kind of spell on me?" he asked, his voice wavering in time with her stroking.

"No," she laughed, the motion making her bosom wobble around his head. "At least not a magical one..."

She delivered an especially cruel thrust, Iden's spine arching, his hips pushing into her silky fist. She let him fuck her hand for a few moments, watching with a satisfied smile as he tried to glean the stimulation that would send him over the edge. His climax was so close that he could taste it, and yet Isabelle's grip was loosening, the pleasure beginning to fade.

Iden loosed a dissatisfied sigh and sank back into her embrace, the sound of her seductive chuckling emanating from somewhere above his head.

"I did warn you of my intentions," she purred, letting one of her hands rest on his belly. It was tantalizingly close to his loins, his member throbbing in the air, aching and needy. "Stop fixating on your climax, and take a moment to enjoy how you feel right now. Do you feel that sweet ache permeating your muscles? The euphoria?"

"I feel...dizzy, drunk," he muttered. She dragged her claws across his chest again, and this time his senses were heightened, the dull sting of her talons sending a burst of pleasure coursing through him like a bolt of lightning. He was so much more aware of his own body now, as though his nerves had escaped the barrier of his skin, even the air itself seeming to stimulate his swollen erection.

After letting him stew for a few moments longer, he felt her hands closing around his wrists like a pair of padded handcuffs. He tried to move them, but she was far too strong, planting them firmly atop her thighs.

"What are you doing now?" he asked, his heart starting to race with anticipation again. She was so unpredictable, he never knew what she might do next.

"I noticed that you were admiring my tail this morning," she replied, leaning in to give his ear a gentle bite. "I didn't realize that it was a source of attraction for mortals."

"I-it's not," Iden insisted, his cheeks flushing. "I was just curious."

He remembered what she had said about her ability to see heat. Not only could see his face reddening, but she could sense the warmth that he put out. There was no hiding his feelings from her.

Her tail caught his eye as it slithered towards him, its tapered tip winding along the sheets like the head of a snake, an instinctual pang of fear distracting him from his embarrassment. She was doing it on purpose, he could hear her stifled giggling.

The long tail rose up between his thighs, rearing back like a cobra preparing to strike, its beige underside facing him. It was tall enough to be at eye-level to him, not that it had any eyes. There was still a significant length trailing up and to his left where it connected to Isabelle's rump, vanishing behind her and out of sight. It grew steadily girthier as it neared her body, so thick around near the base that he could only just have gotten his arms around it.

The appendage brushed against his thigh as it drew closer, sending a shiver crawling up his spine, the pointed tip poising above his member as if waiting for some kind of signal.

"Are you sure?" Isabelle cooed, watching his manhood beat like a second heart. She maneuvered the tapered end closer, as delicate and as precise as a finger, wetting it with the bead of excitement that was leaking from his swollen member. The tail made lazy, teasing circles, stroking his glans with its silky underside. The sharp bristles and the rough scales were kept mercifully clear of anything sensitive.

It began to slowly wind around his shaft like a blue anaconda encircling its prey, piling its plump, chubby coils on top of him until he was entirely buried. It was surprisingly heavy, sinking him deeper into Isabelle's lap, the smooth underbelly just as soft and as inviting as her hand had been.

Iden had to stifle a yelp as he felt the brawn beneath the layer of buttery flesh harden, squeezing him in a vice grip. Every roll moved independently of the rest, squirming and slithering, as if his length had been buried in a sheath of liquid muscle. When they released him from their tight grasp, they seemed to wobble in place, just as her breasts did.

"How do you like it?" Isabelle whispered, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from his own lips. "Does it feel good?"

"As if you needed to ask," Iden grumbled, struggling to get a hold of himself. "Of course it feels good..."

"Communication is important," she chuckled, giving him another squeeze. He lurched reflexively, but her hold on him was tight enough to stop him from wriggling free, her hands so large that they almost entirely encompassed his forearms between the wrist and elbow. "Tell me if I'm being too rough," she added, "my tail is very strong."

Iden recalled how the appendage had smashed through a rock pillar like it was no more sturdy than a sapling. She wasn't quite that large yet, but he could feel the strength that radiated from her. She could probably have crushed a man's life out of him with nothing more than an errant twitch. Was it even safe to have this thing so tightly wrapped around his most intimate anatomy? Probably not, but he wasn't about to tell her to back off.

She began to move, sliding her tail up and down his shaft, the coils serving as soft ribs. They spiraled around him all the while, creating another dimension of sensation, tightening and loosening seemingly at random. It was so much more complex than the simple stroking of a hand, her scales flush enough that they glided against his skin, the pressure sinking him into her fat layer. All that he could see from the outside was a pile of bumpy, iridescent scales and sharp, jutting quills. It looked so lethal, but it made him feel like he was floating on a puffy cloud.

"Would you like to release inside my coils?" Isabelle asked, her lurid suggestion rousing him from his trance. "Do you think that your emission might seep between them?"

"Keep squeezing, and we can find out," Iden snarled.

"Ever the warrior," she chuckled, amused by his defiance. "I wonder how long it will take us to drain all of that energy?"

She released his arms, reaching up to hook a finger beneath his chin, angling his head up so that she could see his face. She peered down at him from on high, his head still nestled comfortably between her breasts, her reptilian eyes shining as though they were reflecting a roaring fire that only they could see. She drew closer on her long, flexible neck, her head already rivaling that of a horse in size. Her dull snout bumped against his nose, her scales cool against his skin, the dragon exhaling a cloud of dark smoke that stung his eyes and made them water.

Her lips were so large and full, reminding him of a slice of ripe fruit, parting to reveal her rows of intimidating teeth. He would have expected a dragon's breath to smell of carrion, or something equally unpleasant, but all that he could pick up was the same smokey scent. A strand of her saliva escaped her maw to drip to his cheek, warm and wet, and he watched with wide eyes as her tongue wound out of her mouth.

Iden had thought that her tongue had been monstrous before, but now it was even larger. It was almost as long as his forearm, and nearly as wide, narrowing into a point at its tip. It glistened in the torchlight, slick and wet. The more draconic she became, the more bestial her mannerisms, and Iden thanked his stars that her demeanor did not change in the same way.

"Do you mean to kiss me with...that?" he asked, his heart hammering in his chest as he watched a rope of her drool sag from her lips. She was like a wolf poised to feast on its kill, all pearly fangs, and slavering jaws. But behind her eyes was a hunger of a different kind.

Rather than reply, she simply pressed her lips against his, holding his chin between her thumb and forefinger as if there was any possibility that he might attempt to pull away. They were so large and fleshy, completely unsuited to embracing someone of his stature, but she made the best of it regardless. She mouthed and kissed, teasing him with titillating licks and placating strokes from her limber organ, even the merest tip of its dizzying length large enough that she could reach the back of his throat.

She was voracious, feeding him more of her length as she gauged his human limitations, her hand sliding down to rest around his neck. She licked the roof of his mouth with the flat of her tongue, using the pointed tip to tickle and stroke, her fleshy coils filling his cheeks and bulging them outwards. In the same manner that her tail was wrapped around his member, she cocooned his tongue in a prison of slimy, swirling flesh. Her bubbling saliva escaped from their joined lips, dribbling down his burning cheeks, his eyes losing their focus as she subjected him to her bawdy attentions.

She broke off with a wet smack, her tongue winding back into her mouth, Iden taking in a gasping breath as the glistening rope of drool that linked their lips broke. Isabelle left him dizzy and wanting, the kiss had dragged on so long that he was almost out of breath. Before he had a chance to recover, the squeezing of her tail intensified, her appendage undulating around his buried member.

He felt like a ship at sea, and Isabelle was the ocean, buffeting him with her crashing waves. She kept him so off-kilter that he could never get his bearings, all that he could do was cling to her like a sailor to the rigging, lest he be thrown from the deck and into the churning maelstrom.

"I can feel you getting closer," Isabelle cooed, "the way that you flex and jump in my grasp. You're aching right now, aren't you? It almost hurts, but not quite. I can see the heat radiating from you, feel the blood pumping, making you swollen and sore. You're so ready..."

They watched together as the rolls of her tail tightened and flexed, Iden's body contorting with every subtle movement, Isabelle's glowing eyes switching between the mound of coils and his red face as if trying to gauge how close he was to climaxing. Would she let it come this time, or would she deny him his relief once more?

Her pace quickened, Iden able to do little more than sink into her body as the sensations grew more intense, points of light floating in his vision like motes of dust. His fingers clawed at the rough, blue scales on her upper thighs, and he pushed his face into one of her breasts as though it might somehow block out the stimulation.

"Look at you writhe," she murmured, her voice laden with arousal. He wasn't even sure that she was addressing him directly, she was merely talking to herself, almost as overcome by the sight of his pleasure as he was by the sensation. His body was drenched in sweat, his skin shining in the torchlight, his muscles gaining definition as he struggled in her lap. When women admired his physique, it was usually in awe of his masculinity, his physicality as Isabelle referred to it. But now, he could feel her covetous eyes drinking in every contour of his squirming body, lingering on him, appreciating him in an entirely different way. She was like a cat starved of the hunt, toying with a mouse, prolonging the chase rather than delivering the killing bite.

Iden felt another orgasm welling, the tormenting ache taking on a more satisfying, blissful quality as her tail continued to wring him. The muscles in his lower abdomen tensed, his toes curling, his back rising from the soft paunch of Isabelle's belly where it had been resting. He opened his mouth to loose a cry, but instead sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the folds of his draconic lover's tail tighten around the base of his manhood. It felt like someone was squeezing it tightly between their thumb and forefinger, swiftly cutting off his rising climax, a stab of discomfort replacing the swells of pleasure.

He cursed, sagging back into her embrace, Isabelle wrapping an arm around him and hugging him closer. Her breasts spilled over his shoulders in an avalanche of quivering flesh, his head buried in the depths of her warm cleavage. As her tail slowly uncoiled from his erection, she began to run her fingers through his hair, stroking him almost apologetically. His annoyance at being denied a second time quickly evaporated, pleasant chills sliding down his spine as her sharp claws pricked his scalp.

"G-Gods," he muttered, all of his discomfort suddenly forgotten. "That feels...really good..."

"Do you like that?" she chuckled. "You're not usually so vocal."

It took him a moment to be conscious of having said anything at all, Isabelle laughing again as he began to frown, embarrassed at having let the comment slip out.

"It's alright to enjoy affection," she said, combing his hair with her talons. Perhaps it was the euphoria that resulted from his state of heightened arousal, but just having her stroke him in that way made him feel like he would melt into a puddle. "It doesn't make me think less of you. Showing vulnerability is a sign of strength, of confidence, not an indication of weakness. What a cruel society that teaches its men not to express their emotions, that they will be somehow demeaned by sharing their true feelings. What is there to be gained by abstaining from some of the simplest pleasures of life?"

"A warrior should be stoic," Iden replied, shivering involuntarily at her soothing touch. It was so hard to make his case in this compromising position. "There's no room for sentimentality in my line of work."

"And what of our friend de Mercier? Did you not pay attention to his tale? He could be as unmovable as a mountain on the battlefield, yet sensitive and introspective in his private life. He knew when to show strength, and when to let his emotions flow freely. There is a time to be stoic, Iden, but it is not while in the company of a lover."

"Trust me," he said, laughing cynically. "None of the women that I've bedded would have been pleased to see any vulnerability from me. They expected strength, vigor, and I gave it to them in spades."

"Then they were not your lovers," Isabelle replied. "Did any of your previous conquests make you feel as you do now?"

"No," he mumbled. "What exactly are you..."

His voice tapered off as she massaged his scalp again.

"Are you enjoying it?" she whispered seductively. "Do you better appreciate the pleasures of taking things slow, of prolonging the excitement rather than rushing headlong towards a climax? We could keep this going for hours if you desired it, you know. From sunset to sunrise. You'd only grow more sensitive, more intoxicated, your body becoming more and more receptive with each passing moment until..."