Queen to the Dragon King Pt. 02

"Well." The King said, a calm fury hanging in his voice. "Let me dispatch this ... annoyance, and then we'll return you to where you belong."

With a roar, the manticore answered the King's challenge and pounced, again. The King leaned his body back and away, reaching up with his powerful right forelimb to clobber the manticore in the middle of its pounce. Even as scale caught fur, the manticore's claws raked across the lower part of the King's forearm, and Ciara heard herself shriek as she saw black-green ichor ooze from the fresh wounds.

The manticore had not struck the first blow; that was the King's privilege. But it had drawn first blood.

Even with his forearm injured, the King was able to use his left limb to pin the manticore to the ground. Ciara saw the creature kick out with its hind legs, targeting the King's injured arm and raking like an immense housecat. Black-green ichor sprayed as the King's arm bled and the King hissed, making a noise that sounded like a furious cat partnered with a dangerous serpent. The King struck out towards the manticore with his powerful jaws, but the manticore's dangerous scorpion tail waved through the air, and the King dared not get close enough to allow it to strike. Despite having his foe pinned, the King's position was now one of disadvantage. With a snarl, he pressed the talons of the paw pinning the manticore into the creature's sides before flinging it some twenty yards to his right, where it landed with a satisfying crunch.

As the manticore fought to right itself, Ciara skittered out from under her King to seek cover behind a sturdy boulder, biting her lip to keep from crying out. Glancing back, she could tell the King was favoring his right paw. The manticore's claws had raked along the forearm often enough that it was slick with the green-tinged dark substance that was oozing from the wounds. Ciara's breath was hot and hard, and she felt tears stinging her eyes; Ciara cast about, both furious with the manticore and overcome with a need to help her King, yet powerless compared to the fury of the two combatants.

The manticore was already limping, his hind quarters dragging as much as they walked, yet he tried to pace in a circle around the King, preparing to test his defenses. The King sat with his right paw raised to keep pressure off it, as his jaws hung partly open, displaying his array of teeth, each as long and sharp as a sword. The King's tail twitched back and forth like that of an irritated cat, one who was planning some savage revenge. The manticore's tail was raised high, as sought an opportunity to bring its most powerful weapon to bear.

The two titans glared at each other over the space of several breaths, and Ciara thought the tension might cause her heart to explode. Just when she could take no more, the manticore lunged forward again, and she shrieked, startled by how fast the terrible cat could move.

Even quick as lightning, it was not too fast for the King of the Forest to respond. With a rocking of his hips, the King lashed out with his tail, using it as a massive flail. Ciara heard a sickening crunch as the mace-like tail made forceful contact with the King's opponent mid-leap, directing the creature's momentum down and away. The manticore's landing created a deafing crunch, as it lay, for a fraction of a moment, half -buried in mud, and Ciara felt a glimmer of hope that it was dead and the fight concluded. The King seized on the opportunity, and surged forward...

...only to find that the manticore's reflexes were even faster, as it sprang up and clear of the King's pounce, forcing the King to catch himself on his injured paw. A spray of black ichor and a snarl of pain tore free from the King of the Forest. With the same lightning speed, the manticore's tail surged forward, its stinger filled with deadly venom and eager to rot the King from the inside.

Ciara heard a voice, ragged and desperate, shriek, "NO!" as she saw the stinger slam into her King's chest, heavy and hard, and it took her a moment to realize it had been her own. She covered her mouth with both hands and stared with wide-eyed horror as the sinister barb on the manticore's tail pressed against the King's chest, and she saw the venom-sacs along the spine's side press and empty.

She felt her knees grow weak beneath her. She had seen her King brought low, and now, she would be forced to first watch her lover die. Then, she would be made mate and meal to the savage manticore.

Yet her King was accepting his apparent loss rather well. A sound almost like a laugh had begun to flow from him, a low noise, deep and menacing, and accompanying it, a hissing sound, like a bellows with a pinhole slowly filling. After this continued for the space of three breaths, Ciara heard a voice, deep and loud enough to fill the clearing, resolute and terrible.

"Queen. Down.", the King commanded. Ciara obeyed.

Diving to the ground, Ciara caught of glimpse of what was to transpire; the King's mouth opened wide, wider that she had ever seen, and he moved his tongue aside, making way for some other organ, whose tip bore a hole and whose menacing purpose was immediately obvious. Even as Ciara buried herself in the mud, she felt the corners of her lips twist into a smirk.

Her lover was done playing with this kitten, and it was time to end the game.

The searing flames poured out like a geyser; the force of the flow was enough to make the manticore buckle, then stumble, forced back and away from the King. The torrent of flame continued, seemingly endless, and Ciara saw the manticore's hide simply melt away, charring to ash and blowing away in the inferno's onslaught, revealing flesh, then bone, then viscera, the relentless burning of the King's terrible breath weapon enough to threaten the manticore's remains with nothing less than obliteration. A gurgling cry came from the sodden, scorched remains, and Ciara imagined it to be one last attempt at defiance or challenge as the manticore realized the grim truth; that it had stirred it's better to anger, and been made to pay for the crime with its life.

A momentary silence hung over the clearing, the powerful scent of charred flesh hanging in the air. The King was triumphant, but Ciara could tell he was not unharmed. The stinger's impact with his chest had left a round mark as big around as a man's fist, and it was coated with a milky red liquid. The King shifted back and forth from paw to paw, his head held up, and though her concern for his well-being Ciara could not help but be reminded of the pride of a housecat, having triumphantly presented his prize. As Ciara cautiously approached, he licked at his lips, and nodded slightly to her.

"My King..." she began, feeling a smile spread across her lips. "... thank you. I appreciate your rescuing me. That ... that..."

"Manticore." The King stated, filling in the creature's name for Ciara. "It was a manticore. You are sure you are well, little Queen?"

Little Queen was not a name Ciara had been called before, and hearing it helped to broaden her smile. "I am, my King. Again, many thanks." She bit her lip, and looked her King up and down. "My concern, though, is for you, my liege. That thing, that ... manticore. His claws, they ... your arm, it must be so painful..."

The King's eyes narrowed slightly as he winced. He adjusted his stance, taking his weight off his right foreleg. The long wounds continued to slowly ooze the green-black ichor, and Ciara advanced towards it, her hands outstretched.

"It's nothing." The King responded, his tone dismissive. "Don't concern yourself with ..."

"It's most certainly not nothing." Ciara said, her tone edging on angry. "It's bleeding." She reached out, and touched the limb; the blood was viscous, and had coated King's the lower leg. "We'll need clean water. Can you fly back to the lair? If you show me the way, I can meet you there, over land."

With a harrumph sound, the King extended his left forearm, and wrapped his paw about Ciara. He spread his wings behind him, fanning out as if to catch the last rays of the sun. Then, with a single beat of his expansive leather wings, the King soared into the air.

The ground hurtled away beneath Ciara, and she found herself breathless, her mouth agape, watching her whole world, forest, swamp, and dale, extending out around her. She could see the edge of the village, and for a moment thought she might even have seen her old home.

For a moment, Ciara found herself weightless and flying free. Then, the King coiled through the air, twisting himself, tucking, arching and then diving. Ciara let out a scream of terror intermixed with a shriek of pleasure as she felt the acceleration of the King dive pulse through her body...

...and then they were home.

The King set her upon the stones that made up the floor of his lair. She felt wobbly and weak-kneed. As she recovered her balance, she quietly took an extra moment to celebrate having accomplished one more childhood dream: she had finally flown through the air with a dragon. After a moment to celebrate, Ciara drew a deep breath and headed for the basin of clear water.

"Bring your leg over here." She said, as she removed her dress, lowering it into the water to let it soak. "Do you have any other cloth, at all?"

The King made a chuffing sound, as if irritated. "There are some tabards. They're gathered ... there, to the back of the cave." He lowered himself down onto his hind knees, and hung his foreleg out over the basin.

Skyclad, Ciara trotted on the tips of her toes past the piles of treasure that made up her lover's bed, continuing into a section of the cave she had previously been forbidden to enter. Here, chests were piled clumsily, almost haphazardly, and she looked back and forth between them. As she considered, the King's voice called to her, "The green chest, in the back."

Opening the chest he indicated, Ciara was able to retrieve the tabards. There were six, each three feet wide by four feet in length, sewn of thick cotton. She pulled out three of them, and carried them over to the basin.

She knelt beside her King, leaning her body into his chest slightly as she ran her hand along his side, before sighing, and dipping one of the tabard's corners into the clear pond.

Daubing the wet cloth at the edge of the King's wound, and wincing slightly to herself, Ciara quietly murmured, "Thank you."

The King did not respond with words, instead chuffing again, almost an impatient or irritated huff. After a moment, he said, "You are mine. He had no right or privilege to you."

Ciara felt her heart sink a little, and nodded. "He ... had no right to take your things." She ran water over the wound again, washing away the blood.

The King nodded, and his lip twitched. Ciara watched his face for a moment, and he chuffed again. "Well.", the King said, hesitantly.

Ciara dipped the tabard in the water again, and then wrung it out over the King's forelimb, letting the water flow down. "Well?" she asked.

"You are mine." the King repeated. "You are my Queen. I would not ... ... You are mine. I wouldn't ... he was not ..." The King stumbled for words.

Ciara blinked, and rubbed at his foreleg with the cloth. "I ... am yours? Like ... as a ..."

"As my ... Queen. Queen, to the King of the Forest." the King interjected. "You are my Queen."

Ciara stared up at her King's face, and he stared down towards her. Carefully, she stood, setting her left hand on her King's chest, while continuing to peer up at his face. She stepped up onto his hind leg, balancing on his thigh, as she stroked along the underside of his neck with her right hand. Quietly, she murmured, "I am your Queen."

Gradually, as she stroked at her King, a deep rumbling sound began to make its way out of his throat, a pleased sound that reminded Ciara of the purring of a cat. As Ciara stroked at King's neck, she felt a strong, sinewy limb press itself against the base of her spine, then gradually stroke up her back. She reached back, setting her hand on the King's powerful tail, and pulling it slightly towards her, so that she could feel its thick and steady length running along her spine. Ciara's body arched, and she felt a delightful tingle move up and down her spine; a wonderful, electric excitement. She could feel the great heat of the King's body as she pressed her chest into his. For a moment, she rested her head against him, enjoying his firmness and size. She pressed her lips against his scales, and heard the King release a low growl in response.

The edge of the King's tail was about as big around as a sturdy axe-handle, and was covered in bumps and ridges. The King was rubbing it back and forth across Ciara's shoulders, pressing against her and pressing her against his body. Ciara reveled in the massage, and she could feel it releasing the tension of the earlier excitement, letting her relax her body. She ran her hands over and around her King's chest, reveling in the feeling of exploring him. She ran her fingers along the textured edge of his scales, feeling their roughness against her hand when she stroked against them, as compared to their silky-smoothness when she stroked downwards.

She pressed her lips against the King's chest, again. He was as hot as a hot mug of coffee, and smooth and hard as a marble countertop, but Ciara knew from experience that he could feel her lips through his scales. The King would feel her lips, and between them, the tip of her tongue; she knew he would feel her fingernails as she traced them along his armor, and that they would tickle, just a little, producing a wonderful heightened awareness, just as they would for a more ... mundane lover.

Ciara felt the twin forks of the King's tongue tracing across the back of her neck. His tongue came to points, each one flexible in its rigidity and size. For now they were soft as pillows, and as big around as a human thumb, as they traced over the skin of her neck and shoulders. She murmured and nestled even more snugly into the King's chest.

While he pressed Ciara to him with his tail, the King of the Forest rolled until he was on his back, putting his legs in the air. He curled his forepaw - the left one, which lacking a bandage - around Ciara, holding her against his body. The King's size and strength were reassuring, and Ciara felt secure and safe in his arms.

The King's tongue worked its way along her back, and it was like a hand stroking up, then downward, slowly but steadily making downward progress. The tongue hesitated for a longer moment as it ran along the small of her back, and he moved it up and down the curve there. He traced his tongue back and forth, at first only straying occasionally lower to run along the curve of her buttocks. He eventually encompassed them as well, obviously enjoying their roundness and their soft arches.

Ciara parted her legs as he rubbed. Feeling the wonderful warmth of the King against her, with his tail continuing its indulgent rub-down of her shoulders and his tongue so wonderfully stroking at her back had set Ciara's nerves tingling, and a wonderful readiness had begun to swell her sex. She could tell that her womanhood was be glistening and she would have had to try very hard to have kept her legs together. She didn't bother, for parting them rested her mound against one of the edges of the King's scales, and if she rocked her hips just so, it let her rub herself against her King, sending wonderful sparks out across her body.

The two tines of the King's forked tongue traced the crease that marked where Ciara's buttocks became her thighs. The tips of the King's tongue were as graceful as fingers. The King used his tongue to softly trace and play along Ciara's skin. Ciara contracted and relaxed her hips in order to rub herself and her damp center against the King's scales as she felt a wonderful tingling excitement building up inside her. Inquisitively, the King's forked tongue tested along the edges of Ciara's sex, and she heard herself moan. Her mouth hung open, and the teasing pleasure of the King's explorations drove Ciara to rake her fingernails fiercely down his scales, and in response he growled in pleasure.

The King's tongue twirled around Ciara's womanhood, sending her juices swirling and gathering as they coated the tip of one of the tongue's tines. With the tip thoroughly coated, the King shifted the tongue to not swirl around her moistened sex, but instead to press up and down against her soft lips. Ciara's moistness made the tongue slip up and down her hot slit like silk, and the wonderful ridges the taste buds formed on her King's tongue made for a delightful sensation. Ciara rocked with her hips, rutting the mound atop her womanhood against the edge of her King's scales, and she felt her thighs shudder from the pressure that was building up within her. When the King's tongue paused its up-and-down stroking, she heard herself whimper like a hound that was desperate for affection. She felt herself flush crimson with embarrassment matched with arousal, and she wiggled her hips back slightly to tempt the King's tongue into more activity.

To her great pleasure, Ciara's efforts succeeded. The barest tip of her King's tongue pushed against her opening and she felt herself throb on the inside, desperate to feel some length of him within her. She nodded her head frantically, and made another mewling sound, and ...

... and her King was inside her. His tongue pushed in, no more than a half-inch at first, but gradually more. While the King's tongue pressed into her depths, Ciara felt it thicken. As it pressed on, pushing nearly three inches into her moist sex, the tongue swelled to the girth of a thick spoon, as it tested the pliability of her womanhood, working to determine if Ciara would stretch further.

Ciara bit her lip and moaned as she arched into her King's tongue so that he penetrated her more deeply. Her hands reached back and she set them on her hips, so that Ciara could push at herself, flattening her palms against her pelvis and straining herself down onto her King's wonderful tongue-cock. Ciara moaned "My Liege!", as arched and stretched. She pushing herself down as the muscles of her pussy pulsed and pulled, hot, wet and eager for as much of the King's tongue as Ciara could have. Ciara wiggled her hips to press the tongue against her flesh, and an electrifying ripple moved along her pussy in response.

Ciara could feel her thighs tremble as her climax was almost upon her. Ciara curled her fingers around her buttocks and spread herself, presenting more of herself to her King for his use and pleasure. She heard her voice echo in her ears, moaning and whimpering. "Please, please.", she panted. "Let me cum. Please, my King - fuck me. Please let me c... ...cum..."

At first, the King seemed to become all the more cruel, withdrawing his tongue from inside her, and she heard herself let loose a frustrated groan, shuddering as she barely held in a shriek of desperation. Just before Ciara felt the King slip entirely from her, his tongue abruptly flexed, filling to be nearly two inches in diameter while it forced its way deep into Ciara, prying her open, bouncing off her cervix and sending her climax ripping through her.

A violent shriek tore out of Ciara's throat as she pushed herself back with her knees, pressing her King's wonderful tongue still deeper into her. Fire and lightning tore up and down her muscles as she pressed her thighs down against the King. Her lubrication seeped from her slit, trailing along her King's scales and making them glisten as the lightning in her limbs caused her hands to squeeze her buttocks more tightly and the fire made her pussy pulse. Slowly Ciara's scream came to an end, slowly quieting itself to a warble, and ending with a whimper ... and then, a gentle laugh.