FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Little Lamb

A Short Story

Part of Rise of the Mother of Dragons

By: Heart Dragon

Tilly's mouth was dry despite the liquid she'd just drunk from a fine silver chalice rimmed with gold and decorated with onyx and jade. The juice of the dragon apple wasn't the sweetest, but it had a flavor like nothing else, and it tingled slightly as it went down, as if the juice was setting tiny fires in the throat. She knew after a few minutes those tiny tickling flames would die and her belly would kindle with a true fire, though pleasant not painful, and that was all she would feel for several hours after. It would kill the pain she would soon be experiencing, if not the terror she could already feel beginning to crawl up from somewhere below her navel.

An old woman wearing black, her face veiled to hide all but her eyes, took the cup and set it on a column of stone, where it had sat for all of Tilly's twelve years until this day, the day she had been born for, the day she would die.

The old woman wasn't supposed to be known, hence the veil, but Tilly could see the eyes, and she knew them as well as she would know her own seen in a mirror. They were Susan's eyes, sweet Susan the gardener, the one who loved roses and daisy's equally. Below that robe she was thin and wrinkled, and a little stooped with age, but she was still vibrant, which you could always see in her eyes, though today, looking from behind that veil, they were pools of sorrow.

"Today," she began, her voice a little shaky but still strong and loud enough for all those gathered, unseen by Tilly because they all stood behind her looking on, to hear. "We gather our strength to aid this young woman in her battle." She drew a sheathed dagger, the size of Tilly's own little finger, from her robe. It was strung on a cord braided of the finest gold colored silk and it shimmered in the light of the glow lamps that lit the room from all sides.

She tied the tiny dagger around Tilly's upper right arm tightly. It was the only thing that she would be allowed to wear until the moment of her death. She was okay with it. The warmth had started in her stomach, the juice doing its job, and she barely felt the silk biting into the flesh of her arm. Perhaps it had been tied too tight, but she wouldn't feel it if it had.

"We give her our gratitude and our peace." She continued, reaching out to touch the cup that Tilly had already drunk from. "And we give her our thanks." She finished, kneeling down before Tilly, one knee on the stone floor and her head bowed.

Tilly heard the sound of brushing cloth, hundreds of men, women, and children, kneeling behind her unseen. They would remain like that for hours if she needed it. Others had she'd heard. Once the chosen had been so frightened that people had started to pass out from the strain of holding the pose before she could finally bring herself to touch the bowed head before her. That was the story at least. In fact the girl had actually never done the touching and had been forced to go to the stones half unconscious, but go she had, and with little dignity. Tilly didn't intend to repeat those mistakes.

She bent at the waist and laid a finger on the top of Susan's head. "I accept your thanks." She said. Her only line.

Susan rose, though the others did not, and took Tilly's hand, leading her through the crowd, which was huge. Thousands had come from all over the countryside to witness the ceremony that would assure their survival and prosperity for the coming decade. As they walked Tilly could see the change in clothing, jewelry, and colors that these people wore. The front rows were filled with nobles and wealthy merchants. Then the farmers and prosperous but not wealthy, those who ran inns and taverns in the lower markets of the city a few miles away from Cold Rock Hold, where they were now. The next row were peasants and beggars jumbled together with barely enough room to kneel without knocking one another over. It was amazing to her that they had managed it.

As they passed beyond each row those who knelt stood. This was the part that Tilly wondered at, the incongruity of it. Those who had benefitted most, and who would likely continue to benefit most, from her sacrifice, were the first to rise, and so the least thankful. In a way it seemed backwards to her. It should have been those nobles and merchants who knelt until the last moment, on their knees and thankful. Still it was not her place to question, only to walk.

The door were cast open as they approached, though by no hand she could see. She had been told this would happen, and she didn't even pause. In the courtyard beyond were two horses, saddled and ready, though with no provisions or gear. One was a young stallion of black and white and the other was a tan mare, smaller and more docile than the stallion.

Susan approached the stallion and put out a hand to help Tilly reach the stirrups. It wasn't practical, the mare would have been a better choice for a girl her size since she was actually quite petite even for a girl of twelve, but she hadn't been given a choice. The finest horse in the country was always required for this particular ceremony, no matter how unsuitable it was. She put her bare foot in Susan's cupped hands and was boosted up across the saddle, her stomach pressing into the pommel for a moment before she could pull herself the rest of the way. She couldn't feel it, but she knew that she'd have a bruise on her stomach tomorrow if she weren't going to die tonight anyway.

Once she was seated Susan mounted her own horse and two men rode forward on horses of their own and took the reins of each horse in gauntleted hands. They wouldn't trust the chosen to ride to her death alone, though the reason they would give wasn't quite so simple if you were to ask. It was still the unvarnished truth and Tilly knew it.

The pomp and ceremony was over, though there was still the crowds outside the gates, those masses who hadn't been allowed inside the cathedral to witness the ceremony, but who would want to see the lamb on her way, but they were unimportant. She wouldn't even be expected to acknowledge them. For this little time she was above them. She could even have commanded any save the three escorts with her if she had chosen, even should the king have appeared before her, she could have given a command and expected it to be followed. She wouldn't though. There was nothing she wished to command.

Still, she remembered the wealthy and the poor and how they'd lined the halls and the wealthy had risen before those who might have been less than thankful and as she looked around she saw a noble standing at the front of the crowd with heavy chains of gold and large rings set with priceless gems and surrounded by guards who kept him apart from the poor who surrounded him, as if they would soil him just by their presence.

"Stop." She said, the word coming before she realized what she intended to do.

The procession, as small as it was, stopped and Tilly waved to the noble to come forward. His eyes shined with pride and he swaggered with it as he walked forward then knelt, though there was no solemnity or true reverence in his posture, only that pride high and weaning.

Tilly smiled down at him.

"What do you command oh lamb?" He asked, his voice as full of his pride as was his clothes, and his posture.

"I do not command you." She said. "I command these men who come behind."

Behind their train of four was the procession of celebration that followed them at the head of which rode the stewards of the city and representatives of the king. One of the party rode forward even as she spoke.

"What would you command oh lamb?" he intoned, a formal request that had been passed down centuries upon centuries for hundreds of years.

Tilly smiled, searching the crowd and picked out a particularly dirty and disheveled looking beggar who would not even raise his eyes to look at her. He was the most pitiful creature she believed she had ever seen.

"I command that this man," she said motioning towards the noble kneeling before her horse, "be stripped of all titles, land, and wealth even to the clothes on his back, and that those things taken be given to that man." She pointed at the ragged beggar.

The noble rose to his feet with an angry grunt, but he didn't even have time to reach his sword or the knife. The people would see all was done even before the crown proclaimed it. The crowd surged forward and stripped the man of his clothes and jewels, his fine knife and sword, and left him on the street groaning and naked. Only a few moments later hundreds of the poor had lifted up the beggar, who looked stunned, now wearing the nobles clothes, jewels, and weapons. They carried him off into the crowd cheering. To them it was as if she had done a miracle.

"So it is done and so be upheld." The man who'd approached said, then turned his horse and rode back to the celebration.

Without further words the procession of four continued on towards the gates, towards the sunset, towards her fate.

The lands surrounding the hold were quiet and there was no presence like there had been crowding the road out of the hold. This was her time for contemplation of her commands and to think on her own mortality or divinity, whichever she truly believed.

The night was warm and even nude sweat was beading on her skin, though she couldn't feel it exactly she knew it was there. The warmth had built to a bonfire in her belly and she was thankful for it, knowing the ride would not be comfortable without the numbness. The ride was timed perfectly, it had been done many times in the past after all, and they arrived at the stony shore just as the sun turned the sky a fiery huge on the horizon.

She was half-asleep now, barely clinging to her horse, and one of the men lifted her from the saddle. This was a secondary effect of the dragon apples juice. She was alert and aware, but her body had begun to refuse the things her brain told it to do. She was used to it. She had drunk the juice several times before in preparation for this night.

She was carried along the stony path towards the precipice of the cliffs that fell two hundred feet to the sea that crashed and frothed against the rocks below. There, at the edge of the cliffs overlooking the water Susan joined them as Tilly was laid upon a raised outcropping of rock. This rock had been fitted with manacles of silver, the metal almost glowing in the dying light of the day, but the rock itself was splashed with stains gone black with age. She would have shuddered with true fear if she could have. It was washing up inside her now, and she thought she might have actually fled had she been able. Obviously this was another reason for the juice.

They laid her out on the rock and bound her with the silver chains hand and foot, then left a pillow beneath her head. She could sleep. It might be best if she did. She would simply never wake, but she had always secretly held a hope inside her that she would never have dared voice. She wished to look into the eyes of her killer before he tore her apart. She wanted to know what was in them. She wondered if he would be evil or something else.

She had slipped away into her own thoughts for a moment and by the time she had recovered she was alone. Susan and the men were gone. They would already be riding back towards the hold where they would join in the reveling and feasting that would continue for ten days and nights. She would never feast again herself. She remembered her last meal, a pheasant roasted with spices and honey, and flaky bread with butter and a thick sweet syrup made from figs. She knew others would feast even better in the nights to come, but for a common girl who had been raised on common fare, it had been amazing. She drifted off to sleep not even realizing that she had begun to dream.

The moon woke her, or perhaps it was the aching in her butt and the stinging in her middle where the pommel had jabbed into her. She'd known she would have a bruise and now she did. Damn the luck.

Her eyes popped open and she sat up despite her minor aches. She was chilled by the breeze blowing in off the sea and she could feel it. What was wrong? She was supposed to be gone already, eaten and digested by the great dragon of the sea. It hadn't come. Perhaps they had mistaken the night. But no, the people had not mistaken the night for hundreds of years, and it was still the night. She looked up at the stars and quietly bemoaned her fate. The dragon must have known about the juice and was waiting until it wore off. He'd want to hear her screams of agony as he tore her apart a piece at a time.

She thought of the dagger tied to her arm and reached up to touch it. She sighed with relief realizing that it was still there. It was her out, her desperation might drive her to use it, and she would need it certainly now that the juice could not hide the pain from her mind. With it she would cut her own throat before the dragon began its depredations. She wondered if she shouldn't do it now, before the creature could arrive and begin hurting her.

She felt her breath coming raggedly, the terror of what was to come was already overcoming her mind and she hadn't even seen or heard any sign of the creature yet. They had not told her that she couldn't take her own life before the dragon came, only that she must be there, alive, at sunset. That was well past. It must be some sort of trick. She grasped the hilt of the tiny dagger, barely a weapon at all, and yet still sharp and long enough to cut the tender vein in her neck that would drain away her life blood in mere minutes, and drew it from the sheath. It was sharp, and it nicked her arm when she drew it. Blood stained the edge and a trickle began running down her arm. She could see the red of her own blood in the moonlight glinting off the steel.

"There's no need for that little creature." The voice was deep and amazingly sweet. Within it she could hear a litany of music, songs from ages long past and lost to the memories of all but a few. It wasn't just deep, she realized, it was truly massive, a voice that seemed as if it should shake the rocks on which she lay, and force the waves of the ocean to move away from it.

She raised the dagger, though there was suddenly no fear in her, and almost did it. She almost swiped that razor edge against her own throat, but then her attention was grabbed. Not diverted, but grabbed, as two huge glowing orbs the color of grass, new green in spring, and emeralds, and moss growing on the side of an ancient tree, and clover growing across an endless field of wildflowers.

She shook her head. The orbs were still there, but the images fled back into her mind where a name had appeared. Had the creature spoken it? Her knife was gone, she realized, though the thought didn't really disturb her, though she wondered where it had gone.

Arken, the name in her head was Arken, though it wasn't really Arken, it was something else entirely, Untamarem'ta'Arken-en mariku, but Arken would serve, or something told her it would serve for her rough tongue.

"Your name is Arken?" She asked, confused, but certain.

A rift appeared below the huge glowing orbs, each larger than her own head, and sharp teeth glittered between drawn back lips. It was terrifying, a snarl, but she knew it wasn't a snarl, it was a smile, an amused one.

"That is close enough." It said, he said, for she knew that it was male the same way she knew his name and that he was smiling. "But you have not sent me your name yet, though I know that you can send, though you may not know it."

Tilly shook her head, but before she could speak the creature chuckled.

"You send so chaotically, like all men do, but you are Tally? No Tilly." He corrected himself. "A fanciful name indeed."

"How did you?" She asked, breathless.

Suddenly things were gone from her head she hadn't even realized were there, except on the very edge of her consciousness. Everything suddenly clarified and she was more awake than she had seemed since she'd woken.

"There, is that better?" Arken asked, his head bobbing slightly with amused chuckles.

Tilly nodded and tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. It was as if her body had suddenly decided that it needed to conserve every drop of moisture. "I'm fine." She managed to croak.

Arken tsk'ed and shifted, raising a massive forefoot to the rock a few inches from her. She thought for a moment that the end was on her, but then the great paw slapped the rock and she could see the tiny intricate scales that covered his flesh as each reflected the moonlight. What was this? She wondered. They had said the sea dragon would be blue or black, none could really remember, but silver? She would have thought someone would remember this spectacular creature even after eight hundred or more years.

When he withdrew the foot the stone was melted in the shape of his great paw and within was a pool of crystal clear water.

"Drink." He said in his deep voice.

She didn't question, only did as she was asked. The water was sweet and cool, no tinge of salt marred it and where his paw had touched the blood of ages had been wiped away as well as the stone transformed to water. It was not fouled, and she thought somehow that it never would be. Water would always come here, to this depression in the stone, and it would always be sweet and cool and unsullied even should a rot take all the rest of the land.

"Ra." She thought. "Dragons can use Ra."

"That's right little one." Arken said. "We do not just use it though, we are it. We are wrapped about with Ra so tight that should it ever cease to be then we too would cease."

"Did you read my thoughts?" Tilly asked, her eyes wide.

Arken shook his great head. "Yes and no. I cannot pick things from your mind without some sort of Ra, but you are sending, so I may hear what you send so forcefully it is like shouting at me."

"Sending?"

"Yes. It is difficult to explain, but all humans can do it just as all dragons can do it, they just choose to ignore it and make themselves deaf to the sending of others. It is a shame." Arken said.

"I see." Tilly said. "Or at least I think I do." She paused and looked over this great dragon who was supposed to devour her and enjoy the screams of her pain. "You're not much like what I was expecting." She said suddenly, then blushed.

Arken chuckled, a rumble that seemed to shake the stone on which she sat. "You were expecting me?" He asked, curious. "How could you be expecting me?"

Tilly was confused and her tone was suddenly guarded. "You're not the one? If you were the one you'd know, but how many dragons can be expected to show up on this night at this particular rock to devour me?" She was angry now, the confusion burning away in the heat rising in her at the injustice she was seeing. "Don't you dare eat me if you're not going to bless my people for ten years of prosperity after. That's what the sea dragon promised and I'm his lamb! You can't have me!"

Arken raised one eye ridge, the globe within suddenly larger and brighter before her. She hadn't realized that those eyes were but half open, and his lips drew back from his teeth. This time it was a snarl, and she could see his lips quivering.

"The sea dragon then," he said with a definite snarl. "Drinsken, the blue, ruler of the stony shore, or so he called himself. "Is that who you mean?"

Tilly nodded. It sounded much more like what she'd been told to expect, though none had ever been blessed with the dragon's name before, not that she knew of.

"He is dead. I defeated him at dusk as he flew along the cliffs." Arken said, his voice proud.

Tilly began to sob uncontrollably.

Arken tilted his head and watched her for a few moments as she wept openly before speaking. "Your sending is chaotic as ever. Are you crying because you are happy that you won't be eaten?"

"No!" Tilly shouted. "I'm crying because you have doomed my people to starvation and madness from the rot."

It was Arken's turn to be confused, a state in which he rarely found himself. "Can you explain? Perhaps I can help."

Tilly sat up strait and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She might be naked and chained to a rock, but she had been raised for this. Well perhaps not exactly for this, they had likely not intended for her to be any sort of ambassador to a dragon, but she was the lamb, and if she could still exchange her life for her people then she would.

"Eight hundred years ago, or so." She started, then blushed. "We're not really sure how long, since few remembered the days of the rot or how long they lasted, but eight hundred years is pretty close. We lived in a land fertile and growing, teeming with life. Then the sky was darkened and fires rained down from above scorching the land in great swaths. For years things continued as they had, though some small things had already started going bad, such as animals abandoning the wilderness, making hunting difficult, and some animals being born strange, with two heads or three eyes, that sort of thing." She paused to let this sink in, then continued. "Then the scars began to spread. Things would not grow in the soil that was scarred, but things did grow in what spread out from them, it was called the rot, and what grew in it killed or poisoned anything that came close. Years passed and the rot continued to spread, killing the land as it moved, and then the madness began. People began seeing things and spirits began appearing, there are even tales of the dead rising from their graves. Then the dragon came from beyond the sea, and the people thought that it was the final depredation, but the dragon did not kill them. It seared the places where the rot lived with fire from its breath and burned it away. It did not cleanse the whole land at once because that would have used up all its strength. Instead the dragon made a deal with my people that it would return and fight the rot whenever the people were prepared to sacrifice a girl who was not yet a woman as its lamb."

She sighed. "I am the lamb. The dragon keeps the rot away simply with his presence, and every ten years a new lamb is sent."

Arken sighed and shook his head. It was apparent that the dragon knew something important, perhaps something about the rot, but could not, or would not speak. He sat in silence for a few moments then nodded. "Since it was I who slew the dragon who protected your people I will make the same promise. You will be my lamb and in return I will stay here and should the rot return I will fight it for you."

Tilly wanted to cheer, though her victory was somewhat spoiled since she had just negotiated her own death, still it was a victory, and her people need never know that anything had changed. They would continue to send the lamb and a dragon would continue to protect them. That was all that really mattered.

Tilly shivered and Arken rose up before her and raised that great paw. She stiffened her spine and stood up strait, ready to face the fate she had made for herself. The paw lowered and she cried out, almost ready to beg for death. She couldn't stand all this anticipation.

A huge claw, shining like silver and longer than she was tall sprouted from the great paw and slashed the bonds on her left arm and leg like they were parchment. Her eyes grew huge as she saw that claw clearly in her mind slicing her cleanly in half. Then the silliness of that hit her. She would barely be a morsel in that massive maw. He would not need to halve her. The claw descended again and clove the second pair of chains. She still wore the manacles and three or four chain links on each, but otherwise she was free.

"I won't run!" She said defiantly.

"Good." Arken rumbled. "Climb upon my back little one. I wish to rest before the run rises."

"Climb? What?" She asked, dumbfounded. "You want to eat me in your lair or something?" She didn't know why this seemed more horrible than being eaten right here and now, but it did somehow.

Arken growled. "I am not going to eat you little one. You may be my lamb, but you are not my dinner. You wouldn't make much of a meal in any case. I am not twisted like Drinsken was. You will serve me at my home. That is all."

Tilly couldn't believe what she was hearing, but she would not question the blessing, the reprieve. He might eventually decide to eat her, but it wouldn't be tonight. She hadn't realized until that moment just how much she hadn't wanted to die tonight.

She circled around his great head and walked along the sinuous scaled neck towards the shoulder and the huge forepaw. As she approached he shifted and a wash of air whipped over her blowing her hair back and around her. Everything suddenly grew darker and she realized she was now standing in the shadow of his great wings which were spread wide and pointed up. She reached his foot and he had knelt to create a step at his knee, which was still nearly too tall for her to climb.

She climbed onto the paw, then scooted herself up the foreleg to the knee. Her hand slipped in something wet as she reached up to use the joint where his wing met his body to pull herself onto his back. She heard him give a small start and she moved her hand away. She looked and it was covered in blood.

"Do not worry," he said before she could form a thought. "Just be swift in your climb."

She didn't question only did as he asked. She gripped the bloody joint and hauled herself up quickly to get her weight off the wound she couldn't really see in the shadow of his wings. She crawled up his back to the middle where several spines as tall as she would be standing rose from the base of his neck. She wrapped her arms around one of these and held on tight as he leapt into the sky without further preamble.

The flight was a magnificent and terrifying journey through the clouds. She wasn't sure how long it lasted as they flew over sea, then islands, and finally into a small forest glade on an island somewhere far out beyond sight of any land even from high above the trees. In the center of the clearing was a great mound of that rose half as high as the trees around it, and in the side of the mound were doors, great wooden things carved with scenes of prancing animals and men and women dancing and playing strange instruments.

Even as Arken landed the doors swung open and Tilly could see that they were easily large enough to admit his huge form. Beyond was a single room of stone incongruous since the mound outside seemed made only of normal earth, but also because it was easily twice the size it should have been from the limitations of the mound outside. Inside the room she could see through windows high on the walls and outside were white peaked mountains unlike any she had ever seen.

Arken moved inside and the doors closed behind him, then he knelt.

"You may climb down and explore your new home little lamb." He said. "I must clean my wounds and rest."

She slid down to the floor and turned to look back up at him, but now it was daylight, the sun shining through the windows lit the room with brightness, and he was the brightest thing there with his silver scales glimmering and reflecting the sun in rainbow hues across the walls, but the vision was marred. She could see great rents in his hide that had been hidden in the darkness before. The joint of his wing, where she had climbed up, was bitten, and the flesh was ragged. She could see broken teeth still trapped in his skin there where he must have pulled away from the bite. His side was scored deep with three horizontal slashes and his back leg was nearly a ruin with most of the scales torn away.

"What happened to you? It must hurt so." She fluttered her hands, not sure what, if anything, she could do, but sure that she must help somehow.

Arken smiled. "Little lamb. I told you that I defeated the sea dragon as he flew along the cliffs didn't I? I am strong and powerful, but even I could not accomplish that feat completely unscathed."

Tilly felt tears slide down her cheeks and she stepped forward almost unconsciously and wrapped her arms around his massive foreleg. "I'm so sorry." She said as she hugged him as best she could.

"Why are you sorry little lamb?" He asked curiously.

"If my people hadn't made our deal the sea dragon would not have been there. You wouldn't have been hurt." She said.

Arken chuckled.

"It's not funny." She said, tears running down her face in streams.

"It is," Arken corrected. "But you would not understand. Not yet." He said gently.

She stepped back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Alright, but I'm going to help see to your wounds."

Arken didn't protest.

Much later, after long hours digging fangs as large as her forearm or bigger from Arken's shoulder, the one thing she could do more easily than him, her arms ached, her eyes were bleary, and she was covered in his blood from head to foot. He had cleaned his wounds, but pulling out the teeth had been a nasty business and blood had run freely until he'd staunched the flow either by some contrivance of Ra or some natural solution in his saliva. She wasn't sure which.

She wanted to collapse into the bed, though it wasn't really a bed, it was the closest thing to one she saw in the dragon's home. It was a nest, though tilted on its side and deep enough to allow the dragon to climb inside and curl up in the soft bedding, which appeared to be rough unspun wool and thousands of feathers. She sighed. She couldn't go to sleep covered in blood, but she had seen no water in the room, and she wasn't sure she had the energy to bathe in any case.

"Arken?" She asked.

"Little lamb?" He replied, raising his head from where it rested on the stone floor. He hadn't made for the great nest but was sprawled out on the floor with his eyes almost completely lidded.

"Can you make me more water to bathe?" She asked. I could sleep on the stone if that is what you wish, but I will still be filthy. If I could wash even a little?"

Arken nodded, taken aback, though not by her request, but by his thoughtlessness. "I am sorry little lamb, but I am very tired. I do not believe I can make water right now."

She sighed and lowered herself to the stone floor, looking longingly at the piled feathers and wool of the nest. "It's alright." She said as she lay down. The stone floor was cold beneath her, and she began to shiver almost instantly. This wasn't the midsummer heat of the shore lands, it was the year round chill of the mountains.

"Fear not Little Lamb." Arken said, but his voice was different, though not really different. It was no longer so large and booming.

She turned over to look at him and was face to face with him, though it wasn't the same as being eye to eye had been back on the shore. The eyes were no longer massive. They were no longer bigger than her head. In fact, they were no larger than her own eyes.

She was drifting, already half asleep with weariness, and her mind decided that it was playing tricks, or that she was somehow already dreaming. That was well, because she could have sworn that she was suddenly pressed against something warm, but not massive and hard, soft as silk and smooth and warm. It pressed against her and she felt a stroking across her cheek, then down her neck and across her shoulder. She looked down and saw Arken, though it couldn't have been Arken, because he was huge, massive, his paw alone could have engulfed her, and yet it was him somehow reduced to no larger than a very big dog, and he was licking his blood from her skin.

His tongue was soft and warm across her skin, and where it passed her skin tingled slightly, a delicate but pleasant sensation. He continued his ministrations, rolling her gently so he could clean her back, then rolling and curling around until he was able to lick across her butt and down her legs. He worked slowly, cleaning every inch. She giggled when he cleaned behind her knees and it tickled her, but the giggles were soft things and the sensation was still quite pleasant. He rolled her back down and cleaned the front of her legs and around her waist until there was only one spot left. He drew his head back and twisted to look down at her eyes.

"Little Lamb, there is only once place I have yet to clean, however it is a place I would not without permission." He said, his voice somehow deeper, yet not ominous or strained, simply more filled with something she didn't comprehend.

She only nodded, wondering if it would feel like her hand felt when she washed herself down there, the sensitive place between her legs.

His tongue swept over her inner thighs, cleaning them first, then his muzzle, warm and soft pushed her legs apart and his tongue slid over her cloven mound, bringing that pleasant tingling, though this was somehow more intense. She breathed in sharply and then let it shudder out as his tongue slipped just lightly inside her, cleaning the lips of her sex.

His muzzle pulled back, but her arms clutched at him, though she was only grabbing his tail where it twisted to coil beneath her head to pillow it. "No, don't." She said.

He looked back at her again, his eyes almost seeming to glow a shade brighter and the green to tinge deeper as he looked at her.

"Little Lamb, would you have this be your service to me?" He asked, his voice rough somehow, rough and deep. "Would you love me?"

"Love you." She said, kissing his tail.

He lowered his head back between her legs, but this time his tongue did not make only a light pass, this time it slid into her, spreading her folds and seeking her warmth with his own. Her back arched as the tingling pleasure she had felt before skewered into her along with that probing length of his warmth. Now she could feel his body vibrating, like a cat purring, but this was much more powerful, something deeper than that. His tongue slid back then plunged in again, deeper this time, and her body responded, tensing around his warmth and shivering against his trembling, vibrating body.

She felt him move inside her, his tongue sliding along something that blocked his progress deeper inside her. She knew it was her maidenhood and she could feel him explore it tenderly with his tongue. She wanted that barrier gone and she thrust her hips upward, but he was in control, he laid his muzzle on her thigh and waited, his tongue still probing along the edges of the barrier within her until it had made a slow full circle around it. Then suddenly the barrier was gone as his tongue went deeper puncturing it.

She cried out as pain lanced into her belly, but his tongue was already at work sliding across the broken barrier inside her and soothing the pain he'd caused by breaking it. Soon the pleasure returned and the pain faded, but rather than moving deeper as she wished, he drew out of her, raising his head and lapping a couple of times at her sex. His tongue was slightly stained with her blood, the blood of her maidenhood. She reached out to him with her hands, wanting to draw him to her, wanting to kiss him while her innocents was still on his tongue.

He moved sinuously and turned so that he stood between her legs with his forelegs resting just beneath her arms as she wrapped them around his long neck and pressed her lips to his muzzle, her tongue tracing down one of his teeth to its point.

When he entered her, it was like a fire kindled inside her, more than the dragon apple had made, and yet with it came feeling. The fruit had deadened everything, but having him inside her, pressing whatever that was, that hard, soft, hot, wet, thing inside her, intensified everything. The feel of his scales, somehow soft and smooth like silk and yet still hard, pressed against her chest and belly, and the feel of her tongue pressed to the tip of his tooth nearly to the point of pain but not drawing blood.

Her back arched and he pressed himself deeper inside her, that length of him seeming to continue to grow within her until every crevice, every inch, every desire for fullness was satisfied and more, until she was overflowing. Yet she still tried, her hips thrust up against him wanting more and more and more as pleasure spiked in her and the warmth, the bonfire, grew into a raging torrent inside her belly.

Arken moaned sonorously and his legs wrapped around beneath her back, pressing her against his chest. It had been centuries, since he'd had this, even in so strange a way. His kind had been gone for so long save the evil ones, and he wasn't even sure he'd ever considered what he was doing now except in only fancy or imagination. He could feel Ra stirring within him awakened by his need, his desire, his desperation. He drew himself out of her and thrust in again slowly as she almost cried out, seeking him to fill her and hating for withdrawing himself.

He drew out and thrust again, this time her eyes were shining and she desired this, this movement as she knew the thrill of the wanting and the fulfillment of the receiving. She clawed at his neck desperately and her body thrust her against him even as he thrust himself inside her feeling every inch of her body both inside and out responding to him.

He felt her body tense at the fifth thrust and he sped his pace sensing somewhere inside her and within himself that everything must meet. Everything must come together at once, the culmination of Ra, body, spirit, and climax. His hips pumped and his body slapped against hers as he moved in and out of her in time with their hearts beating. Thump, him, thump, her, thrum, him, thrum, her, thrum both, both, both. Their hearts beat time with each other.

The climax came upon her like waves washing the shore with high tide coming. The first wave was feeble and weak, the next stronger, and the next, until most of her was filled with the waves of intensity, uncontrolled as the sea and as strong.

He thrust one last time as he sensed the waves of her climax reach their ultimate peak and let himself go. His spirit and seed and Ra flowed from him into her womb. His body spasmed and heaved in out in out as he emptied himself into her fully, every ounce of his seed flowing along with every ounce of Ra within him. This was the way of the dragon. They gave everything when they mated. All that they were and would ever be forever.

She was beyond herself in pleasure as she felt more and more flowing into her. A sticky liquid like fire filled her womb and she knew it was what she desired most of him, his pleasure and his climax entwined with hers, but more flowed into her and she could feel it as well even if she didn't know what it was. She accepted and loved all that flowed out of him and into her in that rush of ecstasy.

After long minutes the pleasure had subsided to a dull roar within her and she curled up against him knowing that for hours yet he could not be removed from her body, something tied them together, something physical, and she wanted it that way. So with him inside her she curled up with her head beneath his muzzle pressed into his neck, and drifted into sleep.