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.
