The Loot

Just a mini-story cooked up for a 5000-word writing challenge. Healslut Pt.2 is coming soon, as are more standalone stories.

Disclaimer: All characters are over 18. This story contains very dark themes, mind control, dehumanization, non-consent, and worst of all, an elf!

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Master was fighting again.

She could feel him. The gentle pulses of her collar pulled in his direction, letting her know exactly where he was at all times. She felt him leap off the heights of the outer wall, and she heard his tremendous roar as he flexed his wings, diving from above onto whatever fools had showed up this time.

Like usual, it didn't last long. The sight of a dragon swooping down at them was enough to freeze most so-called warriors into paralysis. She heard a few blasts of magic, a few clangs of swords against claw and scale, and then it was over. Terrified screaming, then the sound of wet crunches and slurps, and finally Master's soft, purring growls of victory. Her collar pulsed warmly as he returned to his treasure chamber, and to her, his beloved Hole.

He headed straight for her, his heavy claws scratching on the stone as he mounted the dais she was chained to. He crawled onto her, his hot breath stinking of fresh blood, and she shivered with anticipation as the smooth, hard scales of his underbelly dragged across her body and settled atop her. This was her favorite part. He was so much bigger than her. The layers of tough muscle and soft fat pressed her down hard against the dais, crushing her down into the stone and smothering her in dragonflesh. His heart was still racing, the bloodlust from his fight pumping fire through his veins, and she felt every heartbeat through the pulse of her collar and through the layers of heavy flesh pressing atop her. He was hot. He needed release. He needed his Hole, and Hole was more than happy to serve him.

He hunched his hips, a few aborted thrusts shoving his cock against her thigh or across her vulva. Even after all this time, it was hard to get lined up properly when he was so much larger than her. He growled in frustration, the growl reverberating through his flesh and into her body, making her shiver.

Then he finally got lined up, and his cock slid inside her! His enormous, wicked

cock, with its catlike barbs and hardened ridges. Once upon a time, it had been agony to take. Master was more than twice her size; his cock was big enough to practically split her open. She had felt like she was going to die with every thrust, that the cruel barbs were going to drag her organs out with every backstroke. But after so many years together, his magic had toughened her. She still felt his overwhelming power as he drove into her, his cock driving the breath from her lungs with every pounding thrust, but she no longer feared for her life. Instead, she lived for these moments. She moaned as she felt herself turned into a sleeve for Master's cock, and gasped in bliss every time she felt those delicious barbs dragging their way out of her.

She screamed for him. She did her best to thrash against him, despite his bulk weighing her down, despite the chains holding her limbs taut against the dais. She knew it got him hot to think that he was raping her, that she was a helpless damsel he was conquering for the first time, instead of his loyal Hole he had owned for centuries. So she screamed, and whimpered, and cried, and pretended she was a princess being raped by a monster. All the while, she reveled in the pleasure of being used by her Master. She flexed her pussy, using the expert muscle control his magic had given her to stroke and milk him, coaxing out the seed she so desperately needed. And when he finally came, when he erupted like a fiery geyser inside of her, she wailed and sobbed, acting like being filled by such a massive load of delicious dragon cum was torture of the highest order. But her shudders and groans were real: she couldn't help but lose control when she felt the powerful jets of cum painting her womb. This was her purpose; this was her reason for existence. She was Hole, and he was Master. She existed for him to cum in. She loved fulfilling her purpose.

After a brief pause, he caught his breath, and the pounding began anew. Master was relentless. Again and again he drove his wonderful, wicked cock into her tiny body, again and again he pumped load after load of thick, sticky cum into her, filling her to bursting. Dragons were slow creatures. They did not wake easily, but they did not tire easily once woken. Those poor fools outside had not even dented Master's stamina with their pathetic excuse for a battle, so Hole had to bear the burden of exhausting him. Again and again, again and again, again and again. He ravaged her for days, until the dais around her was splattered and drowned in pools of their collected cum. Until his bloodlust was finally, finally sated. Then he collapsed atop her, snoring loudly.

Hole giggled, and cooed. She loved it when Master fell asleep on her. He completely smothered her, blanketing her with his thick belly. He had gotten fat over the last few decades, and she was completely enveloped in soft, scaly dragonflesh. She felt his warmth pressing all around her, heard his relaxed heartbeat reverberating through every bit of her. It was bliss. His cock was still inside of her, and she stroked it with her internal muscles, keeping it hard, relishing the way that it throbbed with his heartbeat. Master was smothering her from the outside and filling her from the inside, and she never wanted it to end. And since Hole had no need to eat, or sleep, or even breathe, hopefully it never would end. Her chains clinked against the dais as she relaxed, letting her body fall limp and focusing only on stroking Master's cock with her internal muscles. If she was lucky, it would be ten years at least, before he awoke again. Ten years of reveling in being a perfect Hole for her Master.

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Master was fighting again.

It was happening more and more often, lately. The word must have gotten out about a dragon nesting here. More and more warriors, thieves, adventurers, and bandits were showing up every year, sneaking in or charging in headfirst, trying to get a piece of Master's treasure.

Hole felt Master through her collar, its gentle pulses letting her know his exact location. She felt him as he dived off his favorite perch on the outer wall, roaring mightily at the newest group of invaders. She tried to imagine how majestic he must look, with his wings spread wide and his talons outstretched to deliver an instant killing blow.

She wondered what color his scales were. She had never seen him, of course. In all their centuries together, Master had never bothered to remove the full-face mask strapped tightly around Hole's head. She hadn't seen anything in...she couldn't remember how long. She wondered if her eyes even still worked, after all this time. But that didn't matter. She knew Master by touch. She knew the coolness of his scales, the weighty layers of muscle and fat that smothered her as he slept. She knew him by the stench of rotten meat on his breath, the scrape of his claws on the stones, and the feel of the deliciously barbed cock he so loved to fuck her with.

But most of all, she knew Master by his voice. His purrs, his snores, his growls, his roars. Hole knew them all. After so many centuries of being his toy, she could tell his mood from the intonation of a single grunt or sniff.

And today, she knew. Something was very, very wrong. The roars and screams she heard from the battle outside weren't the usual sounds of one-sided draconic dominance. They weren't roars of wrath or screeches of victory. There was desperation in them. Fear. Master was *losing*!

Finally, one last shriek, a draconic howl of pain and anger, and then nothing. Silence.

For the first time in centuries, Hole could hear the sound of her own breathing.

Her collar stopped pulsing.

Slowly, disbelievingly, her heart filled with cold agony.

Master was dead.

Her Master, her entire reason for existence, was gone.

The collar around her throat tightened, reverting from magical energy back into a strap of woven silver. It squeezed, trying to choke her, to kill her so she could follow her Master to the afterlife. But she wasn't weak enough for such a crude fail-safe. Master had upgraded her body so many times, smothered her so often. What was a little bit of choking? She barely noticed. Her heart was frozen, dead; there was no point worrying about her throat. And so the collar of silver tightened, and tightened, and squeezed, and squeezed, and she gave it nothing. It exhausted itself and finally began to dissolve, its magical energy gone.

Her chains, similarly, began to boil away into the air. They had been her companions for longer than she could remember, taut links of gold that held her spread-eagle, barely able to move upon the stone dais that she had called home for centuries. She had heard them rustle and jingle so many times as Master had fucked her, she almost thought of them as partners. They had helped her be a better Hole. But now Master was dead, and her chains were dying. They made a hissing sound as they evaporated, turning into ash and smoke and air. And then they were gone.

Hole was alone. She lay on her stone dais, her wrists and ankles tingling in pain from the unexpected absence of her chains. But her limbs could wait. Her heart was in agony, the shackles that the dragon had wrapped around it for so many centuries gone. It beat...it beat! In its own rhythm. She had a heartbeat! How was she supposed to live with her own heartbeat now, rather than someone else's?

Hole was...Hole...no. Hole was someone else's name for her. The dragon. Hole was what the dragon had named her. That wasn't her name. What was her name? She tried to remember...

She couldn't remember.

She couldn't move.

She tried to roll over, to spring to her feet and run for help, but none of her muscles would obey her. She could twitch her torso a bit, shifting her weight from side to side. But her limbs had been stretched taut for so long, she had forgotten how to move them!

Don't panic. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to try to remain calm. She could be patient. One step at a time. She focused on one muscle: her right biceps. Just move your right biceps. Move your right biceps.

"It's this way! Come on, hurry!"

Voices from down the corridor! Someone was coming. How long had it been since she heard any voice other than the dragon's?

"There are five doors. How the fuck would you know which one the loot's in?"

"It's the biggest one, dumbass. Dragons like big. Come on!"

Heavy footsteps echoed off the stones: six of them. Two armored boots, and four hooves. Were they here to rescue her? That was an odd thought. Was she someone worth rescuing? She still couldn't remember. She tried to call out to them, to cry for help, but even her jaw wouldn't respond to her commands. A soft "uff", barely louder than a gasp, was all she could manage.

"Oh shit, you were right. Holy fuck, look at all that GOLD!"

"Told you! I knew it was here. Was I right or was I right? This is the best job we've ever pulled!"

The footsteps sprinted through the doors of the treasure chamber, heading straight for the dragon's pile of gold and trinkets. From the voices, there were only two of them, both male. The hooved one -- four hooves? A centaur? -- had a deep and powerful voice. The booted one was gravelly, with an odd accent. She listened to the jingling of metals and gemstones as they celebrated, laughing and throwing treasure at one another.

A coin landed near her ear, and she flinched. She flinched! Her arm twitched! The tingling in her wrists and ankles was starting to ease away, and she could sort of feel her limbs again. She tried again, and she was able to make her biceps twitch! Progress!

"Oh, shit!" The hooved one suddenly clopped over towards her dais."Look! It had a fucksleeve!"

"What?"

"Dibs!"

The booted one clomped over as well, while she flexed her biceps again and again, re-learning how to use her own body. Her left arm was still numb, but her right seemed to be gaining feeling again. She twitched her middle finger.

"Well, I'll be damned. It really did have a fucksleeve. And a hot one, too. Look at these huge tits!"

A rough, callused hand grabbed one of her tits and squeezed! She jumped, her arm lifting an inch off the ground, trying to fight off the molesting hand. "Ugff!" she managed to grunt. How dare he! She shouldn't be touched like that by a common warrior!

"And look! Under all that dried dragon cum? Elf ears! Why's it wearing a mask, though?"

"Probably tribute from one of the nearby villages. Chain up some delinquent girl, offer her as a gift to the dragon. 'Take this virgin maiden as an offering and please don't eat our whole town!' That kind of deal," Hooves explained."Anyway, dibs!"

"Ugff!" she grunted again. She was no delinquent! She would not be insulted like this in her father's castle! She was...she was...the memory started to slip away, but she caught it. She was Ju-...Ju-...something.

"You can't call dibs on a fucksleeve! We agreed to split the loot." Boots protested."We should roll for it!"

"I dealt the finishing blow to the dragon, I get first pick of the loot. And I pick the fucksleeve!"

Her left arm was starting to regain feeling again. She reached up to try to take her mask off, but her arm bumped into something instead. Her fingers squeezed at it. It was a calf, thick and heavily muscled.

"Fuck that, horseface. This is a top-tier treasure, and I'm not giving it up just like that. Let's have a musk-off. We sit on its face, and whoever's scent makes it squirm the most gets to claim it."

"Nnuggggff!" Julie groaned. Julie! Her name was Julie, wasn't it? Why weren't these men taking her mask off?

"Come on! You know I need a new toy! Tell you what, I'll give you half my share of the gold. That makes a 75-25 split on all the other loot! Just let me have this one."

"Hold up, are you serious? That's a lot of gold, bro. You really sure?"

The calf pulled away from her weak grip. Boots stepped back from her dais.

"I'm sure, bro. Take it." Hooves clopped closer to her, and a hand stroked along her side. She twitched, doing her best to recoil from the touch. All she could do was roll slightly onto one side."I have a feeling I'm going to get a lot more mileage out of this one."

"Hah! You've got a deal." Boots cackled as he jogged away towards the treasure pile. Soon after, coins jingled as he started shoveling treasure into a bag."Just don't come groveling to borrow money when you're broke again and I'm still three times richer than you!"

"Yeah, yeah," she heard Hooves mutter under his breath."Money, money, money. I've got exactly what I want right here." A hand grabbed Julie's knee and pulled, rolling her back onto her back. He slid his hand up her leg, squeezing her thigh, then cupping her mound. She let out a pained "Mnnnnff!" as his thick, heavy finger stroked across her labia. It pushed inside, spreading her open, then pulled out. Hooves let out a chuckle."Hah. Dragon magic really is the real deal! Soaking wet, and tight as a virgin."

Julie struggled. These men were obviously not here to rescue her. She had to fight them off! She brought her arms up and tried to push Hooves away, but he just laughed and batted her weakened limbs aside. His hands were on her hips now, sliding upward, probing and squeezing her body like a cut of meat."I always thought the stories about dragon fucksleeves were too good to be true," he whispered."Eternal health, eternal beauty. No need for care or maintenance of any kind. Just one load of cum every day keeps them healthy, hot, and horny. The ultimate dragon magic."

Dragon magic...she remembered now. She remembered her father's plan to capture a dragon to harvest its magic. She remembered sobbing as her own father chained her naked to a dais, covering her face in a mask and her body in magical ink to lure it into an ambush. She remembered screaming as the plan failed, as the dragon slaughtered her father and his men and then turned its flames upon the kingdom outside. She remembered wailing as everything she knew and loved burned around her. She remembered...how it claimed her. How it broke her from Princess Julietta of the Amrash Forest Kingdom into something lesser. Something named Hole.

She screamed again, now. It was choked by her half-paralyzed throat, muffled by her mask. She swung a fist at the man looming over her. She couldn't see him, but he was there. His hands were squeezing and groping her tits, and he was chuckling cruelly as he bounced them back and forth on her chest. Her punch connected with some part of him. She couldn't tell what, but it was a wall of tough muscle, and the impact hurt her hand. She swung again, then again, trying to fight him off of her, but he wouldn't budge. She was too weak, her punches slid off his body uselessly.

Still chuckling, he gave a last pinch on her nipple before withdrawing one of his hands. When he brought it back, it was holding something that jingled. A chain? A necklace? A...collar...no! NO!

"Nnn...nuh!" she cried through a mouth that still refused to work properly. She thrashed on the dais, trying to escape what she knew was about to happen again. "Nnnnuh! No! D-"

But it was too late. His hands wrapped the jingling item around her throat despite her struggles. One of his hands grabbed her shoulder and forced her flat against the stone, while the other secured the clasp with a soft and final "click!"

"Invoke: Soulbinding," he whispered.

The chain around her neck suddenly turned white-hot, searing into the flesh of her throat like a collar of molten gold. She screamed, finally able to use her voice, but the scalding agony didn't stop there. It spread into her flesh, into her blood. It flowed down her veins into her heart and filled her chest with fire, with a hot pulsing burn that made her feel like she was about to explode. She wailed and thrashed and begged the goddesses to kill her, to end her miserable, painful life. But a pair of strong hands held her shoulders flat against the stone, forcing her to endure.

After what felt like a lifetime, the agony began to fade, the burning began to ease. The searing fire settled down, slowly, into a pulsing warmth. There was warmth wrapped around her throat, and a warmth in her chest, squeezing tightly around her heart. It pulsed with a pleasant, comforting beat. She began to relax, and she opened herself to her new collar. That's what it was, she knew. A collar around her throat, a chain around her heart, pulsing with her Master's heartbeat.

He finally unbuckled the straps holding her mask in place, and she was almost blinded by the brightness as he lifted it away from her face. She hadn't used her eyes in centuries! Everything was blurry and bright and swimming in circles. She blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the sensory overload, and finally saw the face looming over her, blurring in and out of focus. She looked at him, squinted, forced her eyes to focus. It was a man's face. Dark brown hair, olive skin, long ears. He had scars all across his face, a crooked nose that looked to have been broken a number of times, and garish war paint across his cheeks. His dark brown eyes, almost black, stared greedily down at her. He was beautiful.

"Mine," said Master, his lips curled into an evil grin.

Her collar pulsed in agreement.His. She smiled up at him.