Dirty Deeds Of Dick Dragonbone Ch 01

A fantastically fictional adventure in celebrity erotica.

A Young Man Seeking His Path To Honor, Glory, & Sexual Prowess,

On His Quest For Knighthood & To Get Laid,

He Will Need Help Along The Way.

With

Brie Larson as The Fighter

Elizabeth Olsen as The Witch

Hayley Atwell as The Healer

Taylor Swift as The Bard

Babes, Bumpkins & Baddies Await In...

The Dirty Deeds of Dick Dragonbone

*****

Chapter One: The Hung Dragon

Starring Elizabeth Olsen

Codes: MF, Denial, Fantasy, Handjob

*****

Life spilled out of the crowded tavern, bleeding into the quiet dark night. Light, laughter and a wonderful smell of bubbling stew carried on the cool breeze. Shivering against the cold, Richard pulled his cloak tighter around him and dragged his weary boots onwards. As he reached the sturdy oaken door, it burst open violently, smacking him square in the face and sending him careening backwards. A drunken couple stumbled out, giggling as the man slapped the woman's ass and she pulled up her shirt up to reveal a lovely hanging pair of dark chocolate colored breasts. Their hands were all over each other as they headed for the stables, no doubt for a quick roll in the hay. Watching them go wistfully, Richard rubbed his sore nose. Dusting himself off, he stood, secured the longsword at his hip and ducked inside.

The tavern was packed to the gills. People of all sorts cavorted and mingled amidst food, drink and song. Hardened adventurers sat in their parties, undoubtedly rehashing the exciting events of that day. Peasant folk, weary from a long day in the fields, enjoyed a stiff drink before turning in for the night. Merchants in expensive silks sat sipping wine and gossiping amongst themselves. Over the humdrum of it all was an ear-catching tune. Searching for its source, Richard was stopped dead in his tracks. A beyond beautiful blonde bard stood on stage, singing her heart out as she strummed a red-accented lute. Staring slack-jawed, he watched her effortlessly tickle the strings, nimble fingers dancing along the neck with the skill and finesse of a true professional.

"Long live all the mountains we moved,

I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you,

I was screaming long live, that look on your face,

And bring on all the pretenders,

One day, we will be remembered..."

Her voice put a nightingale's to shame. Flaxen, golden hair fell in ringlets around her delicate features. Startling blue eyes stared out across the crowd, her siren song echoing out from between crimson red painted lips. Tall with seemingly endless legs, a tight leather skirt on her lower half barely preserved her modesty.

His drooling reverie was broken when a plastered patron crashed into him, knocking him off his feet. Popping back up like a gopher emerging from its hole, he hurriedly adjusted his trousers and headed over to the bar, squeezing onto the lone empty stool, between two huge hulking men.

"Ale please." He called as the innkeeper approached, cleaning a pewter mug with a dirty rag.

A mane of fiery red hair spilled down her back as she surveyed him with bright blue eyes, peering out over a pointed nose. A knockout herself, even clad only in simple homespun linen. Older, perhaps even his mother's age, but with timeless beauty and flawless alabaster skin.

"You even old enough to be drinking?" She asked with more than a hint of skepticism.

"Indeed m-m-milady!" He exclaimed, indignant but flustered talking to such beauty. It was also unfortunate that his voice chose that particular moment to crack, so his protests came out extra nasally and whiny. "My 18th naming day was just last week!"

"Milady? What kind of place do you think this is? Name's Amy." She said, pouring a frothy pint into the mug she'd been cleaning. "Or maybe Ms. Adams for you. Two silver."

Fishing the money out of his coin purse, he asked, "You wouldn't happen to know of any adventuring-types looking for another noble soul to accompany them?"

Amy passing him the full pint and shrugged, "Plenty of that sort in here, just ask around."

Handing over the money and thanking her, he lifted the tankard of frothing amber colored liquid. The foam had but touched his lips when he was rudely bumped, sending the contents of his drink spilling onto the man next to him. Silence fell over the proceedings, Richard's eyes growing wide and gulping audibly. A roar of anger erupted from the burly figure who leapt up, pulling Richard off his stool. Feet dangling a solid foot off the ground, he choked and spluttered as fingers tightened around his throat.

"Oi boyo." The man growled through dirty yellow teeth. "What the ruddy hell you playin' at?"

"S-s-s-so sorry sir." Richard stammered, barely able to get the words out as he kicked and struggled.

"Sorry ain't gonna save me vest. Look at this. Ruined." He said, ale still dripping down his matted length of unwashed scraggily brown hair into his equally greasy and hairy looking vest.

"Please a-a-allow to reconcile with you."

"Take it outside." Amy called from behind the bar, boredom in her voice.

Grimacing, the man tossed Richard handily across the room where he promptly crashed atop a nearby table of three seated women. Body crunching unpleasantly against the solid wood, he upended the food and drinks upon it, sending it flying every which way. Dazed, he turned blearily to face the woman closest to him. Standing up slowly, mead trickled down her front, face twisted with anger. Fair blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun, her chest covered in simple unadorned leather and nothing more. Squashed beneath it were the absolute perkiest pair of breasts one could ask for. Muscles clenched, rippling down her arms as she slammed both hands on the table, staring daggers at Richard. On each forearm was a bracer of steel, glinting dully in flickering light of the tavern.

"What in the absolute fuck?" She asked, looking from the crumpled mess of Richard below her towards the direction of the hulking man from whence he'd came.

"Whelp owes me a drink. Gonna shake him and see what comes out."

"And now you own us several drinks for throwing this whelp at us."

"Piss off lady."

"Name's not

lady.

It's Brie. Brie Larson."

"Should that mean something to me?"

"It means you're asking to get your ass beat." She said, fists clenching until her knuckles were white.

The two warriors were now sizing each other up, thuggish grimaces on both faces. Righting himself clumsily, Richard scrambled with his cloak, sword hilt poking uncomfortably into his ribs. As the second woman came bouncing over, he nearly dropped back down. More specifically, her breasts came bouncing over and she followed. Robes clinging to her like a second silky skin, they were stretched taunt over the largest bosom he'd laid eyes upon. Distinguished and dignified beauty, she sandwiched her voluptuous brunette form between the two opponents and opened her mouth.

"I'm sure that we can come to a peaceful resolution." Each word was a delightful treat to the ears, her accent clearly indicating she hailed from noble stock.

"Stay out of this Hayley. This goat fucker just volunteered to be my punching bag for the night." Brie snarled.

"Brie, you have the chance to be the bigger person here. Just walk away and return to our table. Lizzie agrees with me. Don't you, Lizzie?"

The third woman at the table looked as though she couldn't have cared less about the proceedings. She hadn't moved one inch since Richard landed on their table. From his current position, he could have licked her muddy boots, stretched out and up on the table as she leaned back in her chair. Sucking the flesh off a chicken bone with greasy fingers she surveyed the scene. She wore loose trousers, with a baggy shirt, a V cut so deeply out of it Richard could spy her belly button as she rocked slowly back and forth on the creaking legs of the chair, supple breasts threatening to peek out at any moment. A chaotic array of bangles and charms decorated her neck and both wrists. Her long flowing blondish hair hung loosely behind her. High cheekbones supported large eyes that flicked from one person to the next, each with more disinterest than the last. Richard gulped again and felt his pulse quicken as she beheld him in her gaze.

Finally, she spoke slowly. "Couldn't care less." And then resumed devouring her chicken leg.

The thug guffawed, "Listen to the buxom wench here. Piss off before you get hurt and let the men do the real fighting."

Brie's eyes widened in rage. A look of resignation came over Hayley's beautiful features and from behind them, Lizzie let out a snort of derision. Brie's arm moved faster than the wind, fist connecting with the brute's jaw before anyone could even blink. His head snapped back and he staggered confusedly before spinning and hitting the floor with an almighty *THUMP*. A one hit K-O.

"Anyone else?" She challenged, raising her voice and looking around.

As it so happened, he had several friends, all of whom leapt up at the sight of their companion out cold and drooling on the floor. Charging forward to avenge their unconscious friend, Brie smiled, cocked her fists and spit to the side. Well actually, she spit onto Richard, but that wasn't intentional. At least, he didn't think it was. Meeting them headlong she charged into the fray with a wild battle cry.

Heads turned, cheers erupting as Brie engaged the men, dodging blows left and right before retaliating with several of her own. The fighting began to spill over as she landed hit after hit, knocking them into other patrons, who then began to brawl as well. Amy screamed for calm behind her bar. Someone moved to tackle Hayley, who summoned a glistening shimmer in the air that the ruffian smashed into and hit the ground with a thud. Richard watched dumbfounded, before remembering to readying himself for attack and was immediately socked in the jaw, crumpling like a piece of parchment. Flat on his back on top of the table, he watched upside-down as someone went for Lizzie. Without breaking her bored expression, her fingers twisted unnaturally, red magic curling around them. A flick of her wrist he went flying upwards until he struck the rough wooden ceiling, sending dust and splinters cascading downwards, before he crashed back to Earth. The magic continued to flow as she floated another full tankard over to her above the brawling crowd.

It seemed like the entire tavern was fighting. Grunts and cries of pain sounding from every which way. Then, one noise cut above the rest. A clear ringing tone piercing through noisy scuffle. Craning his sore neck, he saw the bard's lute glowing with a strange ethereal light as she strummed. Suddenly feeling utterly calm and contented, he let the music wash over him, resting his head back on the table. All over the tavern, the fighting gradually ground to halt as the music grew louder and louder.

Lizzie grinned and muttered to herself, "That's our Taylor."

Dazed and confused looking thugs lowered their fists and returned to their seats, or else were kicked out by Amy who seemed unaffected by the siren song. Taylor drifted off the stage, floating through the calming crowd, still singing until she reached her party, to check in on them. Rubbing his bruised jaw, Richard sat up and put his feet on the floor, starting as a huffy and haggard looking Amy stormed up to him, pointing a thin stick of wood at his chest.

"You! This is all your fault you little twerp. Coming into my place and causing a ruckus. Get out or you're gonna leave here a few inches shorter than when you walked in!" The wand was lowered down to his groin.

Still feeling a bit light headed after taking a hard punch in addition to the mesmerizing-effect of the bard's song, he tried to focus on the angry red-headed tavern owner and the cacophony of threats being leveled against his genitals.

"Please milady, allow me to compensate you for any damages this fine establishment might have accrued on my behalf. Let it be known that Richard Dragonbone IV never leaves a lady wanting."

Flipping open his pack, he sunk an arm elbow deep into his magical bag of holding. Almost a comical amount of time passed as he rummaging around for proper payment, things crashing and jostling around nosily inside. Finally, he withdrew his fist, triumphant. Held within was a solid gold ring, the signet of his house emblazoned upon it, a rigidly straight dragon with its snout pointed skywards and perched atop two enormous circular boulders. He handed it over to her without a second thought, Amy looking down in surprise as though it would disappear at any moment.

"This will do." She said, still glaring as she stormed away to snatch a broom and started cleaning up.

"About those adventurers?" He called after her, but she just ignored him.

"Oi. Dragonbone you said?" Brie said, appearing next to Richard who started at her sudden appearance. Not a strand of hair had escaped its bun, nary a drop of sweat upon her brow.

"Yes miss. Richard the 4th of House Dragonbone."

"Did I hear that right, Dick? You in the market for some adventurers?"

"It's Richard, but in fact, I am! Such skilled warriors like yourself are exactly who I seek. Tell me, are you and your compatriots perchance looking for another to join? I need to make a name for myself, become a knight and live up to my family name. And err, what better way than to join with a noble crew of adventuring folk!" Richard said, his words tumbling out him faster than water roaring down a waterfall. Embarrassment crept into his cheeks as he finished, worried he have said too much.

"I think you just might be in luck there Dicky." Brie said, turning away. "Team meeting!" Brie looked back at Richard who stood there mutely. "Scram!" Richard jumped and hurried away like he scalded himself upon a cauldron. He tripped over the unconscious form of one of the thugs, but quickly recovered, apologizing profusely to no one.

Brie spun a chair around, draped her arms over the back and spread her legs wide, looking around the table. "We could use this guy. We're a little light on funds at the moment. Haven't had a well-paying job in weeks. He's a Dragonbone. As in the Dragonbone's. Bound to have some deep pockets. Look how he paid Amy off like it was nothing."

"You sure Brie?" Elizabeth asked. "You want some wannabe knight following us around like a lost puppy dog? He's greener than a crabapple."

"Exactly. Look at him. He's harmless. No threat to us." Brie said. "Take a few easy jobs, milk him for all he's worth then dump him."

"I think we should help him." Hayley said. "He's on a quest to become a knight? What could be more noble than that!"

"Plus, he's kind of cute." Taylor said. Everyone stared at her. "What? In a scrawny sort of way."

Lizzie shrugged, "Your funeral then, just don't expect me to pamper him."

"We can figure out what do with him later, but for now, we agree?" Brie asked.

After a bit more discussion, they all gradually came around to the idea. Decision made, Brie stood up and called across the room, "Oi. Dick! We talked it over. Your in."

Hurrying around the thug this time, he stopped at their table and began to say, "It's Richard-", but was cutoff before he say more as Brie clapped him on the back, knocking the very breathe out of his lungs.

"Formal introductions are in order. First up, that brown-haired beauty is Haley Atwell, our healer. She used to be a priestess of the Goddess. Now she keeps us patched up with a tender touch." Hayley smiled warmly at him. "Taylor Swift, our blonde bard knockout. She can charm the wool off a sheep. Very persuasive. As you saw." Taylor winked at him and giggled. "Lizzie Olsen. Witch." Lizzie made no acknowledgment of him. "And I'm Brie. Brie Larson. Finest fighter you'll ever find." She nearly crushed his fingers in the handshake she gave him. "Now, normally we'd stay here in the inn tonight, but we find our coin purses a little light of late."

"Allow me!" Richard said. "For my new friends! Plus, it's the least I could do; after everything you've done. Those guys would have beaten me into a pulp."

Hurrying away excitedly, Richard squared the rooms away with a still disgruntled Amy and they all retired for the night. Hayley had healed his injured jaw with a gentle touch that left him feeling better than when he had walked in. Finding his room, he said goodnight to Taylor who was in the room next his. Lizzie casually strolled in after her, giving him a wink as she slammed the door shut. Thinking nothing more of it, Richard entered his room and stripped down to his breeches, his head a whirlwind after the day's exciting events. A creak in the floorboards made him spin around, only to find Lizzie inches away from him. Her trousers were missing, baggy shirt falling just low enough to cover her modesty.

"How did you..." Richard said, very aware that he was almost as naked as she was. "I locked the door..."

"Shhhh..." She whispered before grabbing the back of his neck, holding him tight and pressing her lips to his.

The taste of strawberries filled his mouth as her tongue pushed deeper in. He found himself sinking into the kiss. It was wonderful. Sensational. Passionate. Her tongue pressed down on his, soft full lips cushioning his own. Then he felt a sensation on his britches. Eyes flying open, they flicked downwards and he saw her fingers twitching, red magic pouring out of them once more. The crimson mist swirl around his groin, undoing his buttons one by one. As if he wasn't already hard enough from the kiss, he stiffened even further.

"We r-r-really shouldn't. I d-don't even know y-y-ou. We j-j-just met." Richard mumbled, pulling back just enough to free his lips.

Lizzie laughed, crazy and chaotic. The red swirl of magic popped the last button before grazing his stomach and reaching into his trousers to the beast contained within. He audibly gasped, Lizzie shoving her tongue halfway down his throat. It was pleasure like he'd never felt before. Every inch of him was tingling. Warm pulsating goodness surrounding and undulating his manhood. His knees buckled and he quivered from head toe. Lizzie's large eyes looked at him as she withdrew her tongue, a sly smile dancing on her face. Enjoyment in the pleasure she was inflicting.

"You like that? Don't you?" It was a whisper in his ear. Husky. Soft. He nodded. She nibbled at his earlobe. "Ever had a witch before?"

"N-n-no." Richard stammered, heart hammering in his chest.

"Let's change that. Right here. Right now. What are we working with?" Lizzie asked, her magic continuing to pulse and ripple over his poorly concealed member. With a flick of her wrist, his britches fell to his ankles and Lizzie actually took a step back, magic sputtering out of existence for a moment as she stared agape at his groin. "By the six heavens and nine hells! That's the biggest prick I've ever seen! You're hung like a goddess-damn dragon!"

Unable to think of a response, Richard gave a kind of awkward half-shrug, his engorged member jutting out in front of him, like a spearman ready for attack. In the blink of an eye, Lizzie recovered her cool, that mask of calm indifference sliding back over her face. Fingers twitched, and crimson magic swirled once more around his stiff junk. Groaning as the incredibly warm, massaging sensation returned, his fingers scrabbled against the rough wooden wall behind him. He felt his balls lifted, one at time, squeezed gently as his entire sagging sack tingled with pleasure. When Lizzie's actual hand gripped him, he nearly lost it right there. Barely able to wrap her fingers around it, she pursed her lips and spat a hanging glob of saliva onto the tip. Somehow that salvia stretched to coat every inch of it as she squeezed tight and slowly jerked it. The warm cocoon of magic tingled in the most wonderful way possible, her tight warm fist pumping up and down his shaft, sliding with the greatest of ease. He shut his eyes, convinced if he looked, he'd cum right on the spot.