Dragon 5

The little faerie flitted about, from grassy mound in the sun to snowy mound in the shadow, from creek to crevice to gnarled tree to gully to rock, studiously casual about her random route yet quite obviously searching for something in particular in the steep mountain terrain this early spring day. She began to go over the same areas again, when sudden a claw reached out from a shadow and snatched her out of the air, holding her torso, firmly yet without causing as much as a scratch to her naked body. She flailed a moment, with her arms still free, and then another appendage grasped her upper body too, and she was unable to move at all, though she continued to struggle. "Looking for me?" a rumbly voice chuckled.

Deftly the two gnarled fists of the dragon (for now she could see as well as hear it was indeed him) adjusted their hold on her, so that within a moment each leg was held in the grasp of a claw that was nearly as large as herself; her arms were again free, for all the good it might do her. "Not in the slightest," she lied.

He chuckled again, spread her legs wider and wider, then said "yes, well, make a wish," as if about to destroy her like a turkey clavicle in one snap.

"I wish: to be let go," she said defiantly.

The dragon shifted posture, revealing his already erect phallus, its barb poised menacingly. She had long ago ceased arguing with him about why a dragon would even have a phallus, since she had been taught that their sex organs were all internal; if I want one then I shall have one, was the closest to an explanation that he had ever offered, and then he turned the question around by asking why a faerie should have a hole to receive one, which embarrassed her enough that she could not reply. Evidently, he had been watching her for quite a while today, allowing his arousal to become full before making his presence known. "I don't claim I grant every single wish, now do I?"

And without so much as a by-your-leave, he positioned the faerie over his tool, and leered at her helpless predicament, holding her by the thighs with her legs fully 180 degrees apart, as though she were doing some kind of aerial gymnastic demonstration, or perhaps like her legs were a mountain bicycle's handlebars in a rider's grip. "No, no, no," she protested. But he just laughed as he placed her opening at his tip and then pulled down firmly.

Now, a dragon's cock is a magical thing, and so is a faerie's tiny cunt. A mortal observer would swear the coupling could never occur, that it would leave her fatally wounded. And, to be sure, it's a tight fit; very uncomfortable for her, going in, and far from obvious exactly where the length of it could possibly go. Perhaps many faeries had died during his search for just the right one. But at least for this faerie, once it was in, this dragon's cock actually suited her very well. With the barb well set, he began working her up and down to please himself, like she were nothing but an inanimate sex toy. That was the word he used: "it seems that my little toy came here today intending to play. Well, I'm putting you to good use, I am."

Her spluttered reply, "you're nothing but a nasty selfish dragon," was at odds with her visible signs of arousal.

Brute that he is, it doesn't take a dragon much time to approach climax. But this one had at least a streak of subtlety, or else quite a lot of self-discipline, and when the time was right, he let go of his toy, the better to appreciate his conquest and her plight. Impaled up to her throat (or by whatever means the magic worked) and stuck fast by his barb, she had no way to extricate herself, in fact she was in no danger even of tipping over, though she now held tight to his cock with her knees. She looked a bit like a thimble on a seamstress's finger. "I'm ready, finish it," he challenged.

"Or else what?" she asked uncooperatively, not believing his instantaneous rejoinder of "or else there will be no more little faerie," but not wishing to test her theory either. Hunching over as far as she could, which was not much, she grasped his shaft with her hands and tried to wiggle up and down to please him, using her legs for leverage. Her efforts seemed puny and miserable compared to the girth that filled her, and her dragon laughed and then roared that she must do better. But she knew that her efforts would be good enough to bring him over the edge, so she continued with what motion she could muster, and was soon rewarded with first a writhing and then a violent bucking as the serpent began his ejaculation, a series of jolts that lasted longer than her capacity to count them.

After he had finally quieted down, and the barb was unseated enough that she could work herself loose from him, she climbed down and sat on his belly, both of them resting from their respective exertions. She had not orgasmed, herself, but the magical effects of his gallons of sperm inside left her feeling fluttery. She noted the slight dribble of semen still emerging from his tip and, on a whim, she went over to it and began licking it up. Then she decided to clean him up thoroughly and licked the juices off the full length of his cock, all along the shaft from head to base. She pretended, even to herself, to be surprised to see it start to rise up again, from this highly competent servicing.

And then without warning, she felt herself in the clutches of one claw again, lifted and held upside down this time, and she heard her dragon hiss, "ssso the little toy is now a whore that likesss to sssuck cock, doesss ssshe?" He always exaggerated his hiss when he knew the little faerie was mortified by her own complicity in her degradations. He gave her no time to reply, teasing open her mouth with a talon of his other claw and forcing himself inside her from this new direction. She didn't resist and, as soon as it had magically reached its full insertion, she began to exercise the muscles in her mouth and tongue and throat to stimulate him whatever way she could.

"Actually yes, I do like to suck a dragon's cock," she thought, but of course it would never occur to her to say this to him, even if she were capable of speech at the moment. The claw grasping her torso just happened to be making a certain kind of contact near her clit, and she wriggled in hopes of making the most of it. Her own orgasm began just before his second torrent of semen was ready for delivery, which filled her almost to the breaking point.

"You won't need more nourishment for a month," he sneered as she lay on his belly again, at last.

"I probably won't be back for at *least* a month. Certainly not tomorrow, anyway," she said. "Probably."