The Dragon's Touch

I am Karinth. 18 years ago I was brought into the world by a lowborn couple who lived and worked on the outskirts of a large shipping town. On the night of my birth my dear mother lost her life. Heartbroken, my father lived only a few short years longer before following his beloved wife into death. For years after the deaths of my parents, I was raised in the home of my spinster aunt, Mathilde. She was very good to me in my more tender years and I mourned the loss of her greatly when the Plague took her life in the winter of my 13th year.

Following the death of my aunt, the last of my known relations, I travelled with a group of other orphaned children to seek solace in Drake's Hollow. The little village, several days' journey by horse away from the town in which I had been raised, functioned largely in the service of the Dragon. It was in his temple that I finally found a home.

The Dragon was something like a benevolent god for the people living in Drake's Hollow. It was through him that they received protection from their enemies, and the magic of his presence seemed to enrich the land itself. His existence, at times, seemed like mere legend. Few people had actually seen his shadowy figure soaring through the sky overhead, and fewer still had looked upon his human form.

Yes, the Dragon, at times, was a flesh-and-blood man. He lived the life of a recluse in the highest towers of his grand stone temple. The few lucky souls who had glimpsed him in his human form were the priestesses who communicated his needs to the lower people who worked in the temple, and the painted ladies who served him. This was the only thing that he asked of the village he protected: female companionship.

-

For the many years in which I have lived under the Dragon's care, I have served him in his temple. I have never been one of the lucky women to care for him directly, and as such I have never so much as seen him—but for this I am actually quite glad.

The painted women, whores brought in from the village and neighboring towns, are beautiful. In my years working in the salon that prepares the Dragon's tributes I have seen every manner of woman—statuesque and petite, curvaceous and toned, sultry and sweet. Every one of these women has come in to us tired, anxious, and dissatisfied. When they leave they are rejuvenated; full of life and dying to return and serve the Dragon once more. But in all my years I have never heard of the Dragon inviting a single one back for a second visit.

Knowing the Dragon's propensity for discarding tributes, I have always been quite content with my steady position in his temple. Grateful as I am for the life and protection that he has given me, I would never willingly leave his service. Being constantly at his disposal, though it has always been indirectly, has suited me well.

That was until a few short weeks after my 18th birthday. An announcement was made to all of the women serving in the temple: The Dragon was looking for a woman to bear his child. For weeks, scores of eager women flooded the temple in the hopes of being selected as the mother of the Dragon's spawn. The salon was packed with beautiful women from all around the valley, hoping desperately to win the most coveted title in the Hollow.

-

One of these busy days, while eating my afternoon meal in the largest of the sun-drenched courtyards on the temple grounds, I overheard a conversation between two women that I had readied for the Dragon's inspection a few hours before.

One of the women, tall and curvy with the most beautiful dusky skin, complained loudly about the experience. "He didn't even come out of the shadows," she whined to her companion. "The only reason I came out to this silly thing was to get a good look at him and he didn't even have the courtesy to show his face."

Her companion, petite with thick hair the color of honey, shushed her. "You can't say that here. What if someone overheard that you wasted the Dragon's time, that you never wanted his child?"

The curvy woman laughed. "I'm guessing that the only reason that scaly fool never stepped out of the shadows is because the tales about his looks are nothing but fiction. It wouldn't surprise me if he looked more like the animal that he really is. Who could blame me for not wanting to mother some filthy animal's brood?"

With that, the two women giggled and made their way out of the courtyard. When they were out of sight I gathered up my things and headed back towards the servants' quarters in the temple. The sweet fruit salad that I had been looking forward to all day held no appeal to me anymore.

-

About a month after the announcement, after hundreds of women had been prepared for and then rejected by the Dragon, another proclamation was made to the women who served in the temple. Our master, dissatisfied with the tributes he had already seen, had decided to send for a mystic woman to find the woman who was to mother his children. She arrived at the temple late one evening and was led up to one of the bedchambers in the upper part of the stone structure, a place that was reserved for guests of honor.

She stayed with us for about a fortnight; skulking about the temple grounds, muttering gibberish, and critically observing every fertile female she passed in the halls. In the servants' quarters we whispered about the crone behind closed doors, many of my fellow servants doubting the legitimacy of any decisions made by the strange old woman.

As her stay stretched into the beginning of a third week, many people around the temple, and around the Hollow in general, had lost all of their faith in the mystic woman's abilities. Most everyone believed that she had tricked the Dragon into employing her services and had no intention of finding a suitable woman to carry his spawn. That was until one fateful spring day.

I had just finished in the temple salon for the evening, preparing one of the priestesses for a meeting with the Dragon. In the company of a few of my fellow servants, I headed for the dining hall for the last meal of the day. We stopped short in the hall when the old crone stepped in front of us, one warty finger raised in accusation.

"You," she proclaimed, her creaky voice cutting through the noise in the crowded hallway. "You are the one who will bear the Dragon spawn."

I looked around, cautiously, to see if perhaps she had been talking to one of the girls standing beside me. Since they were both staring at me, open-mouthed with disbelief, I guessed not. I looked back at the old woman and put a hand to my chest in questioning.

"Yes, child," she told me, raising both hands in my direction. As she folded me into a tight embrace, I felt a mixture of excitement and fear at war in my belly.

-

I awoke early on the morning I was to pay tribute to the Dragon. My jealous roommates, girls I had lived and worked with for years, slept on as I crept past them and into the hall. Quiet as a mouse, I headed towards the salon, excited to be pampered for a change, but also nervous about the day to come.

In the salon I was greeted by a team of the best and most experienced servants in the temple. They were women I had always admired, so I felt honored that they had agreed to prepare me for this most important endeavor. I was especially honored to have the salon to myself; though it was no surprise as there would not be any other woman sent up to serve the Dragon that day.

At practically the moment of my arrival I was stripped naked and pushed into a copper tub filled with warm water and scented bubbles. My skin was rubbed raw by competent hands until it shone bright pink in the early morning light. I was tugged unceremoniously out of the water when the bathing was finished, toweled off, and then made to lie absolutely still on a flat piece of cold stone as one of the kindly old women trimmed the hair above my most private place. My face was beet red through the whole ordeal, though I knew that this sort of thing happened in the temple salon everyday.

For hours after that, I sat very still on a little padded stool as the team of efficient servants transformed me from a simple serving girl into a desirable woman, fit to bear the children of the Dragon. My long brown hair was swept back into a complicated braid; my bright blue eyes were outlined with a dark piece of charcoal. The woman who had trimmed my pubic hair reminded me to pinch my cheeks before entering the Dragon's chamber to add color—a step that proved unnecessary in the moment as color mottled my face as soon as she spoke to me.

A young girl, only a few years older than myself, applied scented oils to my body—a dab on each wrist, at the base of my throat, on the backs of my knees, and on the soft skin above my navel. When she finished, another group of servants pulled a silky white robe over my skin. The fabric barely hid my nakedness, as it was so thin that the outline of my body was plainly visible in the light. One of the women assured me that the Dragon preferred his tributes to be dressed in this manner.

After I had finally been clothed, most of the day had already passed. Through the window I could see that the sun was just about to set on the horizon. The nervousness that had simmered in the back of my mind for most of the day was brought to the forefront of my thoughts, as I knew I would soon be alone with my master. I exhaled in an attempt to calm myself, took one last look at myself in the mirror, and followed one of the priestesses out of the salon.

-

I stood alone in the center of the Dragon's chamber, waiting for his appearance. The air was cold, the room unlit, and an eerie silence filled the space. When I had first come in, led by a torch-wielding priestess, I had noticed the furnishings in the room were rather sparse. Downstairs, in the servants' quarters, the rooms were filled with homey wooden furniture, plush cushions, and plenty of light fixtures. This room had none of that.

Instead, this cavernous chamber was filled only with a single stone pedestal, wide enough that it might have been some sort of sacrificial altar. It seemed quite apt as I knew I was about to sacrifice myself to the dragon. A small pile of hay lay in one corner of the room, which I supposed might be the bed of my master—though it seemed far too plain for someone of his stature. A chill ran through my body as I thought about how inhuman the inhabitant of this room must truly be.

Suddenly, a fire flickered to life in the corner of the room. A figure stepped out of the shadows. The Dragon.

He walked toward me in measured steps, stark naked. Stopping directly in front of me, he dropped his hands and parted my robes. I wrapped my arms around his muscular neck as he lifted me from the ground by my hips and walked me backwards. I felt the cool stone beneath me when he set me down on the pedestal.

In the small, shallow part of my brain I had worried that the woman I had overheard in the courtyard all those weeks ago had been right, that the Dragon was some sort of grotesque and inhuman being. Though I knew that at least the inhuman part was correct, I was pleased to find that the rest was untrue.

The Dragon was, as the stories had always said, devastatingly handsome. He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and arms bulging with sleek muscle. His hair was rakishly long and curly around a very masculine face. Its brown color matched the thick trail of hair leading down his stomach to the patch that covered his groin. There was an air of danger around him, even as he stood naked before me. I knew that he could hurt me if he wanted to, but a part of me sensed that he never would.

Without a word to me, he dipped a hand between my thighs and touched my core. He stilled. His voice was low, little more than a whisper, and rough like gravel when he spoke. "They didn't prepare you," he said, surprise coloring his tone.

I opened my mouth, thinking that perhaps this was a question he expected an answer to, but before I could respond he had spread my legs wide and sunk to his knees before me. I was uncertain what he was doing and jumped a little when I felt his tongue touch my mound. With surprisingly soft lips and thick tongue, he laved the tender spot between my legs thoroughly, taking time in between licks to wrap his lips around the bud of pleasure at my center. His intimate kiss grew deeper and hotter until I felt like I was about to explode, and my cries of pleasure filled the quiet room. He continued to tease me, keeping me on the edge of fulfillment, until I was dripping wet beneath his touch. It was then that he pulled back from my body and returned to his feet.

He pulled me to the edge of the pedestal and, without any more preamble, thrust deep. His harsh groan resonated in the room. "You're tight," he rasped. "You must not have had many large men before."

"I h-haven't had any m-men." I told him, finding it difficult to speak through the sharp pain of his first intrusion. His erection, much larger and harder than anything that I had ever experienced before, had torn through the fragile barrier that signified my virginity. In that painful moment, I became the property of the Dragon.

In the dim light, I thought I saw him smirk. "Well, you'll be able to say the same tomorrow."

As he began to thrust into me with long, hard strokes, I lifted my hands to my robe and loosened it, allowing the white fabric to cascade off of my shoulders. The Dragon reared his head, his hot gaze sweeping over my now-naked body.

I took the Dragon's hands in mine and led them to my breasts. His large hands could almost contain the full swell of my bosom. Continuing to move his large member back and forth within my tight channel, my master moved his hands up and down my body. I shivered in pleasure when he tweaked my sensitive nipples, causing them to tighten into little buds.

He took one of the tight buds into his mouth, stroking it with his tongue as I moaned in ecstasy. When my breast had turned a rosy shade of pink under his ministrations, he turned his attention to the other. The sensation, coupled with the feel of the Dragon pumping his thick cock inside of me, pushed me over the edge. I felt my inner muscles clench around him as an ecstatic cry was wrenched from my throat.

The Dragon slowed, as my moment of bliss had caused my already tight channel to swell, making it almost impossible for him to continue to thrust. Much to my dismay, he pulled completely out of my body as soon as my orgasm had stopped and helped me down from the stone pedestal.

"We can try again some other time," he told me quietly. But something in his tone made that statement seem unlikely. My cheeks burned in shame at my loss of control in the face of great pleasure. I shook my head at the Dragon, knowing that I hadn't fulfilled my purpose and that I would only ever get this one chance to please him.

I turned around and placed my hands on the stone pedestal, offering my back to him. The Dragon hesitated for a long moment before he placed his hands on my hips, pulling me back towards him. He spread my legs and then thrust deep once again.

I was much more sensitive this time. He leaned forward, his muscular chest against my back as he thrust into me, one hand on my sensitive breast and the other on the little bud of pleasure at my center, stroking both in time with the movements of his hips. I lifted one hand from the pedestal and buried it in his hair. He bit gently on the side of my neck.

I loved this position, perhaps even more than I had before, when I had lost myself atop the stone pedestal. Unlike before, I was an equal partner in this act of passion, pushing my hips back against his, meeting him thrust for thrust. As he bent me over that pedestal, pushing deeper and deeper into my body, I felt like an animal—wild and consumed by lust.

Before long, I felt the same clenching as I had before—but it was much stronger this time. I screamed from the force of it. Hearing my cries of pleasure, feeling my body begin to milk him, made the Dragon go mad. He bent me all the way forward, so that my cheek was pressed against the warm stone which still smelled strongly of my own desire. Unleashing a chain of guttural groans, my master continued to pound away at my body. He drove faster and faster into me before he suddenly stilled, releasing himself into my tight channel.

We grew still and I felt his hand move up my body and onto my stomach. My heart pounded; partly because of the intense passion that we had just shared, and partly because of the tenderness of the Dragon's touch. He rubbed his warm palm against the skin that would, hopefully, stretch soon around the burden of his child.

"What's your name, girl?"

I was surprised to hear him speak to me again, and surprised too at the pleasure I heard in his voice. "Karinth, sire."

"You will come to me again in a week's time," the Dragon told me, pulling out of my body and leaving me aching for his touch. He walked away, back into the shadows, without another word.

When two priestesses entered the chamber some time later to help dress me like a child, the smug smile of satisfaction was still stretched across my face. I had pleased the Dragon—and I would be the first woman to come back and do it again.