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A Gift of Wings

This wouldn't do, this wouldn't do at all! Not only had it ruined her morning, her afternoon, and likely the rest of her life; it upset every single plan she had carefully constructed over the past twenty two years of her life. Oh certainly some of them had been vague starting out; how she wanted to be a princess when she grew up or the dreams of hundreds of nubile young slave boys doing... something. When she had been a child she never quite knew what they were doing, but now as a woman oh her demands had become quite specific.

She had been raised a lady so of course she was careful to never sacrifice her precious virginity in her pursuits but damn it all, "This is not right!" She yelled at the large man blocking the bedroom door. Not her bedroom of course, it was the guest suite at the castle to which she had been taken.

"The king has decreed, so it is to be Lady Jocelyn." He said simply and hefted up his long axe before his bared doughy chest. He was a loyal eunuch, both her protector and her gaoler. She could never persuade him to let her go, not with all the charms she had.

"Bugger the decree." She muttered under her breath and returned to pacing. It had been a lottery, pure sadistic chance, or so she continued to tell herself. Every virgin in the land had their names placed and it had been her lot to be drawn. "Bugger the Fates." She added with emphasis, loud enough to be heard. There was no response from the stoic watcher.

Late in the morning the maids came; a great clucking gaggle of mother hens and flighty goslings. The like of which she would have never tolerated back home. They were simple creatures who tittered and squawked endlessly about nothings and noddas. Who kissed who, who had been caught with what knight behind which cask of dreadfully ancient swill. They even managed to argue over that, was it the 1221 Yotterein or the 1227 Moornish. She wanted to scream in their faces 'What does it matter you clattering fools? I am sentenced to die!'

She endured their primping and pampering sullenly. Her shell cracked however when one of the old bags dared tell her, "We can't have you looking like that for your wedding day, give er a smile why don't you?" Her shell cracked and a single tear dared bejewel her made up face.

Wedding, it was a wedding, a wedding to death, to destruction, to the inhuman secret buried here. Buried so deep under the ruins of the land that it had taken only a miracle that she had stumbled upon it one winter's eve. Her father had supped with the king and she had been given the great honor of serving them wine and being the brightest little flower to settle there at foot. Late in to the night, well past the stroke of three while they thought she had fallen asleep the truth had slipped out.

"He has made new demands." The king had said to her father.

Her father's incredulous retort had echoed in her ears for months after, "Demands? We give him a third of our lamb and calves, what more does he demand?"

"A child of beauty and purity. At first he had demanded my own daughter but I told him no. You rarely say no to one such as he but I dared and I would do it again. His final demand I couldn't, wouldn't refuse." The King told the story with sorrow and disgust yet under it all was a deep sense of fear.

"We are strong enough, we do not need his kind anymore." Her kind father had said next and for that she yet love him still. He tried to dissuade the king, tried to prevent the fate she now faced.

At that she had to admit, her eyes opened and she had looked upon them. The king had been hunched and drawn inward with chin resting upon laced hands; propped up upon his staff. Her father sat lower in a high backed chair, his face occluded to her. The king spoke again, this time with gravity and finality, "No, no we are not. Without he we would be doomed, without he we would have no respite. What is one child against the tens of thousands who live in peace and security? No, I will order a lottery. We will not tell the true fate of the one drawn. We will not give the country something to fear or grieve."

And so the lottery had been proclaimed. The lie was bold and brash, marriage to an unknown lordling in a far away land. It made no sense, what of the gentry would marry a lowly serving wench's daughter or fisherman's whelp. Yet the fools believed it.

The lottery came and a petite thing of fourteen was chosen. She was shy, born of a chambermaid and a knight in a lord's keep on the foot of the fangs. She was paraded through the streets, beaming beauty and joy where ever she went. Only Jocelyn knew a more insidious fate awaited her.

Truth be told, at the time she hadn't truly known, hadn't realized the horror that now awaited her. The first girl had gone and for a season the land forgot. Occasional tidbits and queries reached her ear. No word returned from the daughter, the mother was distraught, fearing death at sea yet she was assured by the royalty that no harm had befallen. Then well in to spring the call came again as another lottery was drawn.

This time it was a rich merchant who would bring prosperity to the kingdom and his only price a wife. Another girl was drawn, another girl pampered and paraded before the shepherds and milkmaids who tittered and nattered over every bit of gossip. So too was that girl never heard from again.

The fourth season in and the fourth girl was drawn. A pattern emerged in Jocelyn's mind. The girls were dead, some horrific fate awaited them at the hands of whatever warlord kept the king's peace. She imagined a cruel man, a selfish man, a man with unjust fancies and unholy lusts. After that the nightmares, what darkness lurked under the kingdom came out in her dreams. A man with the head of a goat, the penis of a stallion and the claws of a raven feasting upon children as his men raped lamb and calf behind him.

By the fifth season Jocelyn had lost interest in her earlier pursuits. She no longer teased the squires and Paiges, she no longer penned long letters to great lords in false names. Her interest in statecraft and manipulation fell by the wayside. She sat listless in her room staring out in to the dreary snow clad fields. Her father came to her one morning while she was still abed. It was late, the sun was well on its way toward noon, yet she felt no will to rise. Her dreams were worse and she knew no matter what she, she could not cure the sickness that tainted her homeland.

"What troubles you so, daughter?" Her father had asked as he pulled back the curtains and let in more of the accursed sunlight.

For the longest time she simply stared up in silence as gold tinged motes drifted through shafts of light. When she spoke it was with a mouth of venom and accusation, "There is a sickness in the land, father, a sickness you know about but keep close to your heart."

"Of what do you speak, Jocelyn?" He asked but there was a shadow behind his eyes she knew all to well, a shadow she had felt over herself all these long months.

"Where do the children go when they are chosen?" She demanded.

He shook his head as if he did not understand, "Chosen? Chosen for what?" He asked with arms spread out and palms up.

Weary and heart sick she told him, "Chosen for the lottery, father. I was there, awake, when you and the king hatched this vile plan. It has haunted me since that day. Please tell me, please, where do the children go when they are chosen?"

Darkness passed over his features; not anger, no--something more twisted, like regret of a deed yet to be done. Never before had she seen such an expression on her father's face. It was also the last she would see of him, "A wise girl does not listen to her betters when they talk of things that do not concern her." And he had left it at that. Two days later the next lottery was drawn; Jocelyn second daughter of house Maiard.

Her mother had been pleased and nattered on as bad as the old hens who tended to her now. Her family steward had hugged her and with tears in his eyes proclaimed her perfect. She had wanted to spit in his smiling face. She had tried to refuse the parade, desperately not wanting to become the next victim of that hellish gossip. Yet she had gone and she realized it no longer mattered. After she left she would never again hear those stupid observations or simple fancies that inundated the lower courts and ale houses.

So she endured, she smiled, she waved, she pretended--she cursed them all to long suffering for her plight with a false smile upon her face. Then it was over and she was brought to the castle. Now she was being prepared for her wedding; her funeral. She endured still their attempts at consoling, "Now don't be such a wreck, you may have a bit of blood upon the marriage bed but its nothing to concern yourself over." One old crone told her, she nodded politely as if it was entirely new and astounding information.

At last she was alone again, or as alone as she ever was in this vile place. She looked upon the eunuch, unsure if it was the same half-man she had spoken to only hours ago. She was dressed in white silks with beads of silver and gold. She looked like a princess prepared for a ball yet felt like a turkey trimmed and stuffed for the oven. She had no tears now and only consoled herself with a ball of rage she directed towards the king.

At the eunuch's gesture she was escorted to a palanquin and marched steadily out of the city via an old highway. They headed in the direction of the port city but beyond the third hill they turned off in to the wilderness. These were the king's lands, none were permitted to hunt, plow, or even tread upon them for fear of death. Perhaps once people had obeyed but stories abounded about those who entered never leaving again. It made sense then that an army was camped here, prepared to defend the land.

Her guards were all Eunuchs, not a single official amongst them. There was a strangeness to their silent procession that wasn't simply the lack of scrotal tissue, "Why is there none to guide you?" She asked, but was given no answer, "Where do we go? Who do we go to meet?" She insisted, yet was met with stoicism.

Few things were more frustrating to her than a problem simply solved yet prevented from solving by the tampering of others. They all had tongues, they knew where they tread, this game trail had been passed more than once by their feet and yet to them she was just a burden to be hauled. Half man was right, the best parts of them severed and served in a soup; or so she had heard from the gossiping ninny she had asked years before.

She endured the rest of the trip in silence. Through forest, up hills, in to valleys and then they stopped at the edge of a glacial pit strewn with ancient shattered stone. She understood her destination at once. There before her upon a platform of stone were chains with heavy links and strong clasps. She didn't struggle as she was hauled from the palanquin and carried to the altar. She didn't fight, in fact she held her arms out to the half-men as they shackled her. She would not meet her fate in a fit of hysteria, she would not sob, she would not scream, she would not beat her breast.

Still without a word they left, sparing her not a glance. Their burden unladen they hurried away to nights of drinking and buggering one another in the shadows. Jocelyn stood alone as night began to fall. The weight of the chains dragged at her yet she refused to meet her fate on anything but her feet. As dusk wore to night she called out angrily, "Well then? Who am I to marry that requires chains and secrets and lies to keep a bride in place?"

A rumble reached her ears through her feet, the ground shook with a sound more felt than heard; it left her trembling. Two amber pools of luminance rose out of a shadowy cleft in the rock and behind them followed a body, far larger than she had prepared herself to face.

"Who indeed?" Said a voice as deep as the earth itself and just as gravely; it spoke like a mountain rock-slide or an earthquake, "And what bride do they send me? A trembling little waif with less sense than the calves they toss down my hole? Another flower to wilt after its plucked?"

Again she told herself, 'This won't do, not one bit.' So as hysteria threatened to overwhelm her she snapped in response, "What oaf of a beast tramples pretty flowers and expects them to flourish? Who are you, what are you, and why am I to be saddled with such a crass brute?"

A gout of flame cast the valley in stark relief. Afterimages burned upon her retina and for a while she didn't even realize that a tree had been set ablaze. For that moment she stared in stunned awe at the beast who towered over her. She had heard tales, tall and short of his like. She had grown up with the stories, heard the songs, even dreamed of them in secret. They were emblazoned on crest of the king's standard. They festooned the eve of the alehouse she had frequented with her father in the countryside growing up. They were the root of every myth, legend, and horror.

"A dragon?" She asked, incredulous, "The king sends me to marry a dragon?" She exclaimed, then burst in to laughter; else she would have cried. She laughed all that much harder as the beast lowered his great head and stared at her face to face, "I am to wed a dragon? What happened to the first handful of wenches, did you try bedding them and split them in twain? Or perhaps you got bored of their simple yammering and for desperate peace you devoured them whole?" She laughed again and again and fought the panic that threatened to tear her mind apart. She had visions worse than the ones she spoke; impaled, defiled or torn to shreds. Yet she defied her thoughts and gave them no voice, for she feared the truth of them more.

As silence returned to the valley and the last echoed laugh drifted in to depraved awkwardness, they stood, staring at one another. Only the crackle of the burning pine and the deep rumbling breaths of the monster let her know she hadn't gone deaf. At last in desperation to break the overwhelming silence she chided the beast, "Well? Are you going to undo my bonds or must I wait for them to rust away? Come you mad beast, you fiction brought to flesh. Or do you wish to shut me up as you have the children before?"

For a moment she wasn't sure but she swore the dragon looked abashed. She couldn't truly read its inhuman features, but the shrug of its shoulders, the tilt of its head and the way his eyes looked away suggested to her; shame. He stepped closer, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his scales, so close she could smell the dusty spice of his body. One claw lifted and grasped the chain, the other claw lifted and hooked inside the cuff and pulled. It snapped open so easily she swore she might have been able to do it herself had she minded to try.

Freed the first thing she did was probably the stupidest. She smacked the dragon right on the end of its nose, slapped him hard enough to bruise her palm and scrape a finger upon one a sharp ridge. She slapped him and yelled, "So I understand that You demanded this, you demanded a woman. Not just any woman but the princess. Poor taste might I add. But then you settled for less, yet not enough. You kept demanding more and more. One wasn't enough, two, three, four... No you needed five, you needed me. Well I don't intend to wilt like the aforementioned flower so don't you dare "pluck" me, monster!" She didn't go so far as to threaten him, but she had almost, almost sworn to pluck his eye out in turn. It was near enough she could have reached though she doubted she had the strength to achieve such a feat.

The fear was gone, the hysteria crushed and the dragon, she swore, looked hurt. His head lay nearly on the ground and he stared at her with the widest puppy dog eyes she had ever seen. Yet her heart was well tempered to such things, having teased more than one sad puppy of a man in her time. She still had her virtue to show for it. She struck him again between the eyes this time and leaned over him, yelling, "Don't look at me like that you brute. What did you do to those poor girls? What horrible fate did they meet?"

He literally winced at that hit, his eyes flinched, his nose dipped all the way to the ground and he made a soft pathetic sound. He also responded, rapidly in fact, "Forgive me, please. They screamed and screamed and screamed. I brought them food, I brought them water, I tried to calm them, yet they screamed and sobbed and begged and pleaded. For all I know they still live yet. I returned them upon the season's turn as my food was brought. I do not know their fates yet I did them no harm."

"No harm?" She exclaimed and hit him again, "You scared the wits from their simple little minds. Those poor girls, what did you expect of them?" She imagined their bodies adorning some cell somewhere, though she doubted the king would keep such a risk. Likely they had been slain outright to keep the secret of their plight. She shuddered inwardly realizing that if she did not succeed here he may simply turn her away and she too would face such a fate.

He truly flinched on that hit and the whine grew louder. Then he pulled away as a claw came up to drape over his 'bruised' nose, "I... I wanted a wife."

"What, did the lady dragons mock you? Do you have a manhood, er dragonhood deserving of derision? Well no matter, now you have one and I promise to be the most miserable shrew you ever met, you hear me?" She said to him and stomped forward. The massive beast, the emblem of power of the entire land, the thing that kept her people safe; he cowered. She had never felt such an exhilaration, never felt such power. She realized she walked a tight rope, she did not know how his mind worked, did not understand his desires and needs. She could not manipulate him like she did the horny stupid men back home, "So tell me dragon, where is our home? I hope it is furnished and not some filthy muddy hole in the ground. Growing up I dreamed of keeps castles and gallant knights. You are no knight though you might, if I squint, make an imperfect replica of a keep or castle."

For a moment the dragon just stared at her bewildered. Behind those large glowing eyes she could see his mind working, see his thoughts forming; did he want this? Did he dare resist? It wasn't that she could stop him, she could tell, he truly, desperately was lonely and even her brash and rude treatment of him was far in favor of his prior acquaintances. He relented and she could see it in his eyes, the way they looked to her feet, the way his head dipped. His claw reached out to her, palm up, an offering, "I will take you home. No, not a filthy hole yet it is no keep nor castle."

She looked to his outstretched claw and for a moment hesitated, renewed fear in her heart. With force of will she steadied herself and climbed in to his palm. His scales were warm to the touch, smooth, and slightly slick with oil between each plate. The great talons curled about her protectively and strangely she felt--safe. The scent of him filled her nose, dusty and peppery with a hint of earth and farther down she could barely detect a hint of blood. Her back settled against his palm as the world about her swayed and they lifted in to the night sky.

Higher and higher they went; colder and colder it became. She drew her dress tight about and clung to his warm fingers. Far below she could see the fires of her land, the glow of the castle city, the distant keeps villages and steadings that stretched far to the horizon. Never before had she dreamed of such a sight, everything so small and indistinct below her.

Great wings beat at the air as they came to a stop, hovering in the dark sky. She was moved, brought closer to his head as he said, "There, see that dark patch below the hill? That is where I live, that is our home."

"Dark patch? It is all dark, Do you mean that pit of blackness to the north or perhaps that inky sea to the south? Or perhaps I should inquire of the entire moonless sky?" She spoke sharply to him, but her heart thudded in her chest and her eyes roamed the night land with wonder. She could see so many pools of luminance holding back the shadow, so many sparks that signified life, so many warm hearths. Quietly she said to the dragon though not intending for him to hear, "I never dreamed of seeing the world from this vantage. Thank you."

"You are welcome." He said in response, his keen hearing easily picking up her whisper, "I live for the sky and though these days I only fly at night, I would slay myself before giving her up."

Flushed and excited she answered, almost the girlish child she had once been, "I can believe it, so free up here, go where you please, do as you wish... with no one to..." She went silent as she realized, for the first time in her life she had no plan, no scheme, nothing to bide her time. She turned to look at the dragon's great glowing eye, staring in to it as he stared back, "Do you truly desire companionship?" She asked of him.

"Yes." He answered with that great rumbling voice.

She calmed her trembling nerves and stilled her racing heart then she took a deep breath and asked him, "Will you be a kind and dutiful husband?"

His eye lidded half way and for a moment focused elsewhere. When it returned it was slightly downcast and his voice came back to her pained, "I do not know the nature of a dutiful husband but I will be kind to you as best I can."

She did not like that answer yet she suspected it was the best he could give under the circumstances, "Very well, I will teach you--husband." It was absurd, it was astonishing, it excited her, it repelled her. He wasn't a man, he wasn't even mortal, he was a beast of legend and she... and she belonged... No, he belonged to her, "Yes, I will accept you as my husband, to serve and protect me, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do we part. Those are the words usually spoken at a wedding under god."

In echo of her words, he responded, "Very well."

"No, the words we speak are 'I Do'." She sniped at him, then in a softer voice asked, "Do you take me to be your wife?"

He rumbled a moment, then said, "I do. And do you take me to be your husband?" He wasn't stupid, picking up on the little game quite quickly.

"I do." She replied, then added, "And now we are supposed to kiss."

"Kiss?" He asked.

With an amused little frown she told him, "Yes, you know, kiss, lips and mushiness and all that?"

"No..." He said slowly.

"Very well then, bring me closer to your face." She demanded and she felt herself lifted higher as his head dipped down. His eye was right there, less than a foot from her and she reached out. To his credit, this time he didn't flinch. Her touch was gentle upon his eyeridge as she stroked over the spined scales. She moved him until his muzzle was close enough, then she leaned out, over the open air below them and pressed her lips to the front of his muzzle, just below one of his large nostrils and kissed him.

Her heart leaped in her chest and so did her stomach. Her knees came together and her feet kicked out slightly as his wings missed a beat and they fell a few feet. Then she landed uncomfortably in the grasp of both fore claws, clutched to his wide and powerful chest. She panted in fright, then clung to him and fought back tears that threatened to free themselves. His head lowered and peered at her, then he asked with a strange voice, "That... That was a kiss?"

Nearly sobbing she landed a fist on his chest and nodded her head, "Yes! Yes you brute, that was a kiss and if you ever want another, please--please! Don't drop me."

He shook his great head and belted out what she could only assume was a laugh, "You were in no danger. I could drop you here and now, wait a thirty count and still catch you unharmed. Never fear when you are in my sky."

"Easy for you to say, brute, you are the one with the wings!" She retorted, still in a panic.

When his voice returned it contained again that strange lit, "No, my wings are yours now, wife, I will bare you as no burden for as long as you require."

Some how in that moment, under that moonless star strewn sky, far above the land that had once held such intrigue for her; she was touched. Never before had anyone offered her something so romantic, so sweet and honest. Plenty of headstrong fools begged her favor at the tourney or fought with one another over her honor. None had ever however, even offered to carry her to her door or hold a bough above her head to ward off the rain.

Taking heed of his words, she climbed him, like a mountain she knew wouldn't shake her. She scaled his chest, his shoulder and found herself at his neck. There she curled her arms around him as best she could with fingers unable to meet upon the other side, "I trust you then, husband. Show me our sky."

And so he did.

**

Dawn broke and though Jocelyn had been awake all day and night she did not feel the least bit tired. Under the crack of light that smudged the sky she could see her other half truly for the first time. He was massive but that she had known, he was powerful, yet that too she could attest. His scales were a glistening silver that caught the light brilliantly. Some were so smooth and beautiful she could see image upon them.

As he swooped dipped and soared he struck her as majestic, a force of nature untamed. Yet between her thighs she felt his muscles flex, more powerful than any horse she had ridden. He responded to her, learning the shift of her weight and pressure of her knee. Like learning to ride a horse yet in reverse she soon felt him bound to her will. She barely even thought, just the merest hint of intent and her mount obeyed without hesitation.

When the first ray of sunlight burst through the distant clouds she aimed him down. She did not know one valley from a hill, yet he lead them home. There in the forested hills she saw the dark patch. Burnt black, seared to lifelessness and in the center an earth and stone round house, ancient and forgotten. She had read of them in old books, the kingdoms of old, long before knights and moats, long before even men sailed the seas. The land around it charred black, but in the center a bright eye of white stone stared up at them. Then they dropped, through the eye, in to darkness below.

It was freshly maintained, newly hewn logs along side old slating, freshly quarried stone laid against ancient soot blackened granite. The ring at the bottom was as wide and large as the largest keep she had ever seen. It was quite obviously used with deep furrowed tracks and little dust or dirt to be seen; likely swept away when ever her husband took to wing.

"Home." He said and dropped low, to let her slide from his shoulder to the hard packed dirt floor.

"It is old." She told him as she looked about. There were signs of age and wear everywhere.

"I suppose it is. I knew the man who ruled from here, many centuries ago." He admitted, then continued with a whisper, "He was not a kind man and when I asked for succor he answered with an axe thrown. I burned him and his kingdom and made this land my home."

She shivered slightly at the thought of those that had died here, incinerated centuries before, "So you were here long before and the kingdom rose up around you?"

"I was." He answered. She stepped back then as he settled to the floor and curled himself until his head rest upon his flank, staring at her with both huge bright eyes.

"How did you get involved with the kingdom?" She pried, curious.

He seemed to settle a little on himself, flattening. Then he answered her with a quiet gravely murmur, "Four centuries before, shortly after the founding of the kingdom a group of knights stumbled upon this circle. I had just awoken and was rather hungry and thought little of the men as I ate their horses. One tried to stab me with a bit of metal and I roasted him for his efforts; the rest fled. For a generation they tried and tried and tried to kill me. It was great amusement though I do suspect they felt otherwise. I would occasionally fly out and claim a snack or two and a few days later up would ride the latest wool-headed braggart who thought he might win the hand of the princess if he had me slain."

While listening Jocelyn settled down with her back to a stone pillar and watched her companion. She tried to understand his mannerisms, tried to read his emotions and expressions. Men were like open books to her, one glance at their face and she knew their life story. She always knew what heart chord to play to melt him in to her bed and she knew what pride to prick the eye of when she wanted them gone. He was another story, a story she intended to read.

"So I got the bright idea that maybe, since all of them just wanted the princess I could remove the princess and that would solve the problem. You must understand I was quite Naive when it came to you humans and your strange mating rituals." He continued his story then broke to laugh before resuming with a lit that suggested he had reached the climax, "So, here I was, with a very annoyed and put out young woman and an army the size of which I had never seen bearing down on us. Oh I'm sure I could have killed them all without a second thought, but it just seemed so absurd!"

"What was she like?" Jocelyn asked, interrupting him.

"Who?" He prompted.

"The princess."

"Oh." He said, then paused, thought, and finally, "Well she was a bit like you. She swore at me, yelled, called me names and threatened my life. But in truth we became friends before the end. I turned her over to her father and in turn a deal was struck at her behest. She was a fiery creature you know, I could hear her half way across the battle field screaming at the king until he finally relented. Ever since I have served the land in her memory, taking care of unwanted ships at sea or snacking on a group of bandits should they encroach on the peace."

She nodded slightly and added, "Until now, when you demanded more."

"Well--yes. I suppose I should have expected this, you humans do tend to be a bit irrational at times. With memories of Princess Amelia still in mind, I was so distraught when the first ones couldn't even look me in the eye without fainting. You must forgive me, she was the first human female I met and perhaps she was an outstanding specimen. I asked for the princess of course, expecting a similar natured woman but the king seemed so put-upon by the request that I asked for an alternative."

Laughter threatened to bubble up as she listened to his side of events, so calm and yet bewildered, "Such a different tale than the one the king told. To him you seem a great forbidding darkness that he keeps at bay with the sacrifice of little girls just to keep you from tearing his castle apart."

The dragon's head shot up, eyes wide and staring, "He what?" was his cry, "I would never! I might have to go hunt for myself should he stop sending me part of his harvest but I wouldn't stoop to harming him."

The poor beast seemed so aghast at the idea that Jocelyn rose and came to his side just to touch soothingly at his arm, "You must see it from his point of view. I doubt he even knows the true tale of how you came to be joined to his house. It was four hundred years after all, around twenty generations in the past. No one in the land has seen a dragon in centuries!"

His head laid down again and he settled some, "I suppose you're right," He admitted, "I remember it clearly as it was only a short time ago for me."

Jocelyn felt a sudden sadness as she realized, "How brief our lives must seem to you, barely sparks from a hearth, gone in an instant." She laid her cheek to his arm to let the heat of him penetrate her. In one day she had gone from terrified, to angry, to completely comfortable with the most vilified monster that walked god's green earth.

His head shifted forward on that great neck and made its way to her inclined form, "Perhaps your life is brief relative to mine. A firefly burns brightly at night and lives but a season. It's life is not worth less for its brevity. It's mating cry of light holds back the darkness and brings serenity to others while to it's self, its life is full of meaning and purpose. Princess Amelia may have passed many generations ago yet she changed my life and the life of every man woman and child in this kingdom. She ended war, she ensured peace and she gave me many fond memories that will last for another twenty generations at least."

Quietly Jocelyn looked up to him, raw and vulnerable for a moment. Part of her wanted desperately to live up to his memories of that long dead princess but she felt herself unworthy. In silence she hugged his arm then slipped away from him, toward one of the crumbling archways.

"Where are you going?" He asked of her.

She glanced back, then down at her dirt caked wedding dress, "To remove this garish nightmare of a dress. Are there any clothes here for me to ware or must I attend to you in my undershirt alone?"

His eyes focused on her to take in the appearance, then he said with a strange voice, "You mean, you can remove your exterior?"

It was absurd, it was hilarious, no it was hysterical. She laughed until she couldn't breathe and yet still she laughed some more. She fell to her knees and coughed, then laughed again, "You mean..." She started after she had quelled her mirth, "You mean to tell me, you thought our clothing was part of our body?"

He seemed overly defensive as he retorted, "Well now, I never exactly asked. We dragons come clad in our scales and rightly so! Some of us are green, black, brown, red or any other color and clarity you can imagine! Why shouldn't you humans reflect that? I've seen many of you with faces of speckles and hair of red or creamy white skin and golden tresses. I've seen men of silver and men of red cloth, I've even seen a man shift before my eyes from motley to royal blue and back for the amusement of a king!"

Trying to prevent another laughing fit, Jocelyn reached behind herself and dragged at the lace of her corset dress. The bow came undone and she felt it loosen. She focused on pealing back layer after layer of overbearing uncomfortable cloth until the dress, her corset, her brassiere and even her undershirt fell away in dusty white heap on the ground.

Then there she stood before him, naked and unashamed. Her black hair tussled and unkempt, her feet muddy, her pubic hair a curly thatch from which her pink virginal lips protruded. Her nipples stood tall in the chill air, sharply pink with darker aureoles drawing inward, "This is the human form, female specifically." She reached up to grip her breasts, "Bosoms to give milk to nurse our young." Her hands slipped lower to her hips, "Wider hips to ease the passage of children." Then they slipped inward to cover her pubic mound, "vulva from which all men are born and all men spend the rest of their lives seeking to re-enter." She let her hands fall to her sides and added, "Men are little different but for their dangling appendages that do most of their thinking."

"I see..." He told her and those hot burning eyes raked her body. She felt strangely foolish as she felt a hint of shame and modesty, he wasn't human, he wasn't even a man, just an intelligent beast who probably saw her as little more than a comforting pet.

"So you do." She stated dully. Then a curious and sly thought dragged its way up, "I showed you mine, show me yours." She had played that game more than once with boys at court and always came out the victor. Oh how they loved to peek under her skirt and gave her anything to simply touch.

He shifted his great bulk, uncoiling himself, "I wear nothing to conceal myself from your eyes." He told her yet she saw no genitals, no features that she could point to and say 'male' or 'female'.

"And how do you differ from a lady dragon?" She urged as she bit her lower lip. Thoughts meandered through her mind of horrific visions she had imagined, of the prior girls being impaled upon a massive serpentine spire of flesh to be spitted then roasted alive by boiling fire spilling from its tip.

His fore claws reached down between his hind legs and she watched as his talons pried and pulled until a slit appeared, splitting with a wet and sticky pop. Pale silvery flesh greeted her eyes between tarnished silver scales. Deeper it shifted to blue, darker and darker the closer to the center it reached until she felt she stared in to the abyss of night itself. It looked to her like a female might with the perfect curve of labia concealing the deeper entrance, "You... You are a lady?" She asked, suddenly startled.

He chuckled a deep rumbling sound and didn't respond right away. Instead her gaze returned to his slit as a moist slipping sound alerted her to his change in demeanor. A spire of obsidian streaked with cream, a glistening phallus that put every stallion and hound to pitiful shame. She felt her knees go suddenly weak at the thought of it, longer than herself and at the base thicker than her leg. He could have killed those girls with it for all she knew, held them screaming and kicking to the stone altar and impaled them upon his lust swollen phallus.

With an almost bashful expression he told her, "No my lady, I am a dragon lord in earnest. I rarely have need to expose myself so please forgive my shyness."

"Shy? With a... With an aspiring endowment such as that? Should I have been born so blessed I would have hired stallions to pull a cart just to display it before me everywhere I went." She told him boldly and inched closer. She could smell him, that same spicy aroma but with something very male mixed in with something bitter. It was familiar, familiar in the way every male who courted her was familiar. Familiar in the way the stable boy had spent himself in her hands. The way her father's paige had emptied across her tongue before she spat it back in his face.

Before she realized it, her hand had come to rest upon the scalding hot flesh. It was soaked in glistening sticky moisture, the hide slipped so easily under her fingers she was surprised he even felt it. Yet he did. His entire body quivered and his hips jutted forward while his phallus arched against his own chest, curving gracefully like the painted dolphin she had seen as a child. His response was familiar as well, like any male she had quickened in her palm or left desperate and panting for release after dancing with her. This she understood, this she knew.

Two strokes, three, then she stopped. His eyes were closed, his body was limp, his penis felt like hot iron under her fingers. His hips were twitching and she could hear his breath picking up in desperate gasps. Her gentle teasing hand had done all that, had brought the great monster to the cusp of bliss. She stopped and stepped away, still naked, still taunting him, flaunting to him. His eyes when they turned to her again held a recognizable expression, lust.

"Why did you stop?" He pleaded with her. His hips were jerking in futile need against the air, his penis bobbing and splashing hot musky precum onto the hard packed ground.

Her voice was coy and teasing, "Pleasure is something earned. That is what my father taught me. Knowing I can bring you such pleasure however is a reward in and of itself, don't you think?"

His voice was pained and desperate, familiar tones, recognizable even to her, "Have I not been good?" He asked, "Do I not please you?"

She shivered as she asked something, something she had asked others before, something she had done to cow and humiliate the most noble of man, "Do you wish to please me my lord, my husband, my dragon?" As she asked her hand lifted and teased a single fingertip along him, from the oozing slit at the base of his member all the way past the curve, as far as she could reach.

He shuddered again and gasped, like a great windstorm howling between his teeth, "Oh my lady, my wife, my human Yes!" his words came in a howl and she stopped just in time. His penis throbbed, the underside pulsed and at the tip great heavy glob of pearly blue oozed free to puddle on the ground. The smell of it was sharp and potent, familiar yet alien to the men she had pleasured before. He wasn't human, he wasn't one of the stupid boys back home yet her debase urge demanded fulfillment.

"Bring me your head, my dragon." She demanded with heart fluttering in her chest. To her astonishment he obeyed, his great body moving until he was on all fours again with his head upon the ground before her. She could no longer see his maleness, no longer feel the heat of it, but she had something else before her that she desperately wanted, "Show me your tongue." She said with a firm voice long familiar with command.

The flesh emerged, black as his penis yet without the veins and streaks of white. The tip was like that of a snakes, forked, yet the entirety was wider than she had imagined and quite flat, not so narrow as she had hoped, but near the tip it would suffice, "Your tongue is the price I ask, as tribute, as sacrifice." Her hand reached down to rest upon the muscular appendage, it felt rougher and wetter than his cock, yet less slippery, his saliva wetter than the lubrication that coated his groin.

"Sacrifice?" He asked with his tongue still out. She showed him the way however as she gripped that member and dragged it upward. His head lifted, following and more of that tongue slipped out, perhaps two feet of it. She brought it to her center, to her black thatch and her pert labia. She pressed the flat of it against and rocked her hips just once. Her labia parted, before him and he was gifted with the first true taste of her virtue.

"As wife, my virginity belongs to you, husband." She told him as she panted and shivered with nervous fear and excitement, "Yet to surrender it to you would likely also spare you my company." She added with a mirthless laugh as she imagined such a painful end, "Your tongue however is a most beautiful and well suited implement. More than one man has gifted me the use of their own."

The idea sank in and Jocelyn gave a sudden groan as the long rough flesh glided between her lips, across her rear, then back again until the forked tip tickled between her soaked labia. Her knees were weak and she began to sag as he licked a second time, slower and more intent. Before long she was draped over his muzzle, her head laying between his eyes with her hips upon his nose, grinding and thrusting as his tongue set to pleasuring her. He found quickly where she was most sensitive, where she reacted the strongest. He was tireless with it.

She felt herself rocking against him as a powerful wave built within her womb and crashed against his tongue. She came for him for the first time; stronger than she had ever climaxed with any man. So many wasted worthless studs compared to this one, this beautiful beast who sent her to her peak with such dedication and care. Before she was done, she came a second time and thrust him away, gasping and panting. He looked for a moment hurt but she smiled as the pleasure washed over her and she begged him, "You, you can stop now!" For a while her hips twitched and she clutched at her vulva with one hand. Her body laid, curled against his neck and quivering until the final trembling aftershock drifted away.

"Are you well?" He asked of her.

At last, after her heart had calmed and her breath was steady she told him, "Yes my dragon, that was wonderful, more than wonderful..." She was exhausted, drowsy and spent. She had been up for an entire day; had flown through the sky upon dragon back; had learned more history of her land in one sitting than in her entire life; had married a fantastic beast from her nightmares and now, and now she had laid with him; yet she wasn't finished. "Let me see your--dragonhood again." She demanded as she crawled back to her shaking legs.

He rolled over on to his side and exposed it. It was larger than before, swollen so stiff it looked almost painful, "Does it hurt?" She asked.

"No..." He said with a shake of his head, but his eyes told another story. Perhaps not pain exactly, but desperate need.

"You poor thing." She murmured and stumbled forward, down the length of his body. There she met the tip of his massive penis. The gaping urethra welcomed her with a sticky splash as the head around it throbbed. It was larger than her fist yet she pressed in and laid her lips to the very tip of it. She kissed him, ever so gently there and inhaled the scent of him. It was different, inhuman, but she found it pleasant.

He shuddered as her lips parted and the entire head disappeared between. Precum gushed from his tip and bathed her mouth in his taste. Her tongue fit easily down his urethra and muscles inside clenched at the intrusion yet her dragon howled and bucked. It nearly sent her off her feet, only her quick reach to curl her arms about his spire kept her upright. She engulfed him again and hung on as he began to lose control. She watched it, like an avalanche, the rippling scales, clenching muscles and finally the arch of his body; it was a cascade across his form. When it reached his groin his slit twitched, swelled and his penis gave a deep throb. Then he released.

No human of such small stature could ever hope to match a dragon's bounty and Jocelyn had no memory or experience to prepare her for what happened next. His penis flared, the head swelled, the urethra clenched then her tongue was thrust aside as a deluge of hot semen poured across it. Her cheeks ballooned, the semen filled every crevice of her mouth, then found elsewhere to go. Down her throat, up the back of her nose, but mostly it sprayed out, drenching her.

Desperate and shocked she fell away, coughing to clear his spunk from her throat. She sneezed, she coughed, she hacked and hocked until eventually she could breathe without bubbles of semen tickling her lungs. She knelt in the dirt and gasped for air for many long minutes, well after her spent husband had drained himself across the courtyard. At the peak his semen had shot forty feet to paint itself across one of the stone pillars. She had not been prepared for it, not imagined what might happen, yet as she looked up at him and he looked back she felt a giddy joy.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked with a worried tone.

She shook her head and laughed, sneezed, then laughed again and dragged her soaked and filthy body on to his arms, "Hold me?" She asked of him and he did; all day long and well in to the night.

**

To ride the wind upon dragon back is the freest feeling in the world. He moved at her touch so quickly, so smoothly that she felt sometimes that they were of one mind. Where she wanted to go, he wanted to go, what she wanted to do, he wanted to do. He was her dragon and she, his rider.

Every morning as the sun came up, she put his wondrous tongue to work and fell asleep, cradled in his arms. Within the year she had fallen in love, no man had ever been as kind, as giving, as yielding to her needs as he. He never asked for pleasure, never tried to cop a feel or spy upon her as she bathed; not that she would have minded. But when she decided, when she felt he had earned it, she ordered him, "Present yourself, dragon." and he would sit back upon his haunches and would grow quickly and immediately erect. It wasn't simply the flaccid emergence that he had done the first time, no, at her words he became desperately and uncontrollably aroused.

This morning as she bathed, she watched her husband. They had decided to spend the day at a river that ran only a short distance from the round house and she took great advantage of it. He on the other hand found little amusement in water games, perhaps because if he sat in the river he would have dammed it; but none the less he was amusing himself with a lamb from his flock before eating it. The poor thing was bleating and scampering in distress; back and forth between his claws. He seemed like a cat playing with a mouse to her, yet he had such an even temper it struck her as some what depraved.

At last she slid from the water wearing a mask of disgust. Now she was washed clean of the night's dust, but the plight of the poor creature made her ill and so she made her way over to the duo, "Why do you torment the poor creature so?" She asked.

He glanced up and cast her his own variant of a smile. She had come to understand his mobile yet alien features and could read him nearly as easily as her own kind. "Seasoning," He told her simply and at her blank look he continued, "When you cook your meat, you add sage to it, right?" At her nod he gestured to the panicked lamb, "Fear, fear is delicious. It pumps the meat full of adrenaline, it makes the beast sweat a heady aroma, it turns a bland boring snack in to a delicious treat." She trembled slightly and he glanced at her with an amused and taunting expression, "Is that fear I smell on you?" He asked.

"Nope, not at all, now go eat your meal before you get other ideas." She told him as she watched. She still felt a hint of pity for the poor traumatized creature, but it wouldn't have long to suffer. When he went for the kill it was over in a flash and nearly bloodless.

She was ready for it, waiting for it, but she still jumped and made a tiny yelp as her husband's head snapped down like a coiled snake and bit in to the lamb, crushing its neck and spine between his teeth. Then he leaned up and let the yet still twitching beast fall back in to his great maw to be swallowed whole. Her heart thudded, her skin prickled with sweat and she stared in fascination as the meal slid down his throat. Her eyes tracked the bulge from jowls to stomach, then her gaze sank lower to the tip of his penis as it peeked out between the lips of his sheath. He always got aroused after eating, she didn't understand it, but she didn't mind either.

"Present yourself, dragon." She ordered him suddenly and he jerked nearly as much as she had prior. She heard his lusty croon and watched as that slick member emerged fully and swelled to painful erectness, "How long has it been my love, since you have bedded another dragon?"

His gaze was riveted on her as it always was in these situations. He was so affixed to her every movement and expression, just as when she rode him in the sky, "A long time, my lady." He admitted, "Before I came to this land."

"Do you long to feel her hot tight sex squeezing down on your prick?" She asked lewdly and watched as his member twitched suddenly upward and spat a trickle of arousal, "Yes, I see you do. Why have you abstained for so long?"

His words came softer this time with a bit of reticence, "...Courtship is complicated. For all she may know, I desire to claim her territory or even prune her."

Unsure of his meaning, she asked, "Prune.. her?"

He dipped his head with an expression of disgust, "An atrocity, My Lady. I can't bare to think of it." Though he spoke of it in such a light, his penis twitched again and rose even higher.

"What is this... this pruning you speak of?" Jocelyn demanded.

He shook his head in a human like gesture but admitted, "Where her wings are removed and she is held captive, usually for repeated breeding or when the male wants to take possession of the children."

Still his penis twitched hungrily, perhaps even thicker than a moment before, "You speak of it as an atrocity, yet your body craves it. You would commit such an atrocity, wouldn't you."

He reacted with sudden horror, "No! No My lady! Never!" yet between his legs his member stayed ever so firmly erect and a shameful expression teased at his eyes, "Maybe..." He admitted after she stared at him for a moment.

"I see." She said simply and eyed her husband, learning more about him than ever, "And what if I desired to prune you? To ground you, to turn you in to a worm, helpless and worthless in the dirt?"

His eyes widened, his jaw hung loose and a deep growl echoed from the back of his throat, yet it mixed with a his sudden croon of lust and a jerk of his hips, "You wouldn't!" He exclaimed, as if forgetting she was a fraction of his size and as frail as a twig compared to he, "Please... Please don't prune me My Lady... I can't give you children, what reason would you have? My wings are your wings..." She saw tears in his eyes as he said it, "Do you wish to take the sky from both of us?"

Yet even as he cried, even as he pleaded with her, his hips rocked and thrust at the air, involuntary little gestures that made his twitching penis bob and toss sticky streams of arousal on to the ground in front of him, "Your body, again, my lord, tells me other wise. You are mere seconds away from climax at the barest mention of such an atrocity being committed upon yourself. You cannot hide from me, dragon." He turned his head away in shame, still sobbing. She stepped closer and with a grin, told him, "Touch yourself, dragon, let me see your climax as you revel in your depraved atrocity."

Hesitantly at first he reached down to himself and gripped the massive appendage about the base. He had never masturbated for her before, though she had more than once in his company touched herself. He had thought it silly with his tongue right there, but she had done it anyway, to tease him. His head returned to her, looking at her with his eyes still full of tears, "you wouldn't really, would you My Lady?"

She stepped closer as his claw began to stroke. It wasn't a familiar action for him, yet he seemed to be enjoying it quite a lot, "Perhaps I won't, but perhaps some day I will. How would you feel, dragon, bound to earth by my hand? Forced in to servitude and humiliation?"

She reached out to touch his muzzle gently, and felt him shake with a sudden sob. "Please nooo..." He cried with tears raining down his cheeks. His no turned in to a howl however as he peaked before her. Blue-white semen splashed on to the grass as her dragon mount writhed in self disgust and pleasure.

"Good boy." She told him kindly as she stroked her hand between his damp eyes, "I won't ground you today, but maybe tomorrow I'll order your wings closed." She grinned in to his watery eyes, then kissed him on the end of his nose. He shivered again and slid limply in to the grass, spent and emotionally drawn.

Once again plans and schemes began to filter in to her mind.

**

The king's eunuchs came every season and with them came a herd of lamb and herd of calf as well as other supplies. Occasionally they did repairs around the house or ferried messages back and forth. On this spring visit however Jocelyn awaited them with a message. The eunuch's held her in some strange reverence and tried not to look directly at her, but they did as she bid and her letter was away by the next morning.

She had made a simple request, they were worded as demands of course, no sense in letting the king think he still ruled her;

"My King,

I don't know if you remember me, but I was second daughter to your adviser. The one you sacrificed to a dragon some seasons ago, hoping to be rid of me. I am writing to inform you of new necessities growing out of the union between myself and my Lord Husband Dragon.

First I require a measure of iron and leather and tools enough for a smith to forge them.

Secondly I require a smith who is willing to work for a woman of my stature and inclination.

Thirdly I have need of a chambermaid and seamstress. The allotment of clothing abandoned here, while suitable for spring summer and fall, is hardly useful in a harsh winter. As you may or may not know, I am a terrible seamstress and have made a mess of what was left to me.

Finally and most importantly I have need of a decent cook and a supply of vegetables. I have eaten lamb and beef in every possible variety that I can imagine, yet unlike my Lord Husband, Fear is not a spice to my palate and I require more else I might go predominantly mad.

Your Friend,

Jocelyn Maiard"

The response from the king was rather quick, within the week a small caravan of terrified looking folk arrived at the round house and began to turn it from ancient abandoned ruins to livable home. Her husband was slightly put out by the constant intrusion, but the scent and taste of rosemary infused beef changed his mind, "See, there are other spices just as palatable as fear my love." She told him as he rolled the morsel across his tongue and savored it like one might suckle upon a sweet.

He and the cook became best friends after that, and by best friends it would probably be better described as; quiet terror and rapt hunger clashing in a tight space. Only his head fit through the kitchen door from the ring yard and any time the cook had something new or old stewing away, there he was, curious as ever as to what it might be.

As for the smith, her lord husband paid him no mind and the smith was happier for it. Jocelyn on the other hand spent many hours sitting improperly in his smithy describing contraptions and ideas at great detail. He tried desperately not to look upon the Lady's state of exposure, but she refused to wear the dresses and corsets like a proper woman. During her first season here she had spent it half naked until she had assaulted one of the first eunuchs that showed up and demanded his pants. Her wedding dress had lasted only a few weeks before finally succumbing to fatigue and pants were far more practical for riding anyhow.

The seamstress threw fits yet eventually relented and made her comfortable clothing that suited her lifestyle. It helped of course that the only people to see it were the handful of landless peasants who had been forced in to terrifying exile at her home. All in all everyone was settling in nicely, or as nice as they could be under the circumstances.

Then, one day late in to winter the smith finished and Jocelyn's plan was hatched. "My lord husband, lay down please and keep your eyes shut," She told him.

He obeyed as he always did, trusting and loving as ever. Quietly she carried the pieces of metal up, climbed her husband's back, then began to affix them over his wings. He trembled at first and made a deep low keening sound. He never did open his eyes however, nor did he move an inch from where she had put him. When she was done she slid to the ground and stood before his large head, "You may look, beloved."

Upon his back his wings laid useless and locked shut. Great bars of iron with straps of riveted leather and held them cinched. He whined even louder as he shifted his wings and found them shackled to the base of his tail so he couldn't even move them, "What... what is this?" He pleaded.

"I have pruned you, my love, your wings belong to me now, and only me. I have grounded you like a worm to crawl upon your belly." Each word she spoke to him sank his head lower until it was resting on the ground, "Spread your wings, try it, try as hard as you can, I want to see if they will hold against your great might."

And so he tried, oh how he tried, he bruised his wings, he scraped scales, he sobbed in effort as he wrenched at his bonds, but he did not break them. Over and over he tried, starting in curiosity and ending in panic. His eyes whirled his head tossed back and forth, reaching upward towards the sky and he howled, "Please... My Lady, no!" he begged, but under him, between his hind legs, she saw his erect phallus drooling lustfully.

"Silence!" She demanded and he stilled, silent as a mouse, "You wanted this, do you deny it?"

For a moment he hesitated, a moment where his wide eyes seemed to panic, then his head bowed submissively and he responded, "Yes My Lady, I love it." Then as tears trickled from his eyes down the length of his muzzle, he whispered, "Thank you, thank you for showing me my place." and as he spoke the words his body trembled and an orgasm washed through him. He spent himself, wasted upon the ground.

"I did not give you my leave to spill yourself. Clean it up this instant." She snapped at him, her mind on fire with the power she held and her own sudden lust drove her on, "Lick the dirt clean and remember next time."

He sobbed at that, the great powerful dragon, the fearful beast of the skies, he just sobbed then bowed his head to the potent puddle of semen and began to lick it from the mud. Slowly she sat back and began to masturbate as she watched. He had already climaxed so his penis had started to withdraw and that gave her another pleasing idea, one she would have to devise later. He was well finished by the time she peaked. She watched him sit there with creamy mud upon his lips and shame in his eyes. She came before him and aroused him once more. Oh how he loved to watch her, his monstrous prick was already drooling again.

That morning she made him sleep with his muzzle between her legs. His hot breath washed her naked body and kept her warm even in the chill and his nose was filled with the scent of her. When she awoke it was to the teasing pleasure of his tongue across her folds and she gave him her blessing to continue.

**

Only three days after the first piece was finished, the second idea was done. It was beautiful, fashioned of rough iron, it was simplicity. Again she had her husband close his eyes and she ordered, "Present yourself, dragon." And he did, with eyes still shut and penis throbbing desperately in the night air. She began to touch him, soothingly and teasingly exploring him until she reached his sheath. It was like a pillory in design, but made of iron, one side came down over the top of his shaft, the other from the underside, then they locked closed. He whimpered quietly at the feel of the heavy iron upon his member, tight enough around the narrow base of his shaft that he couldn't withdraw it, couldn't put his member away.

"You may look now, beloved." She told him and grinned as she heard his gasp, "I love seeing you displayed, so this will keep you displayed perfectly for me." As she told him, he throbbed in response and jerked his hips slightly.

"But... but I will dry out My Lady." He pleaded.

She smiled an amused smile and suggested, "Perhaps you should wet yourself with your mouth then, hmm? You can reach, can't you?"

He squirmed suddenly and she was sure he was about to explode, but he stilled himself and whispered, "I don't know, I never tried." Yet before being ordered his head dipped down, tucked under himself, and his muzzle engulfed his own penis all the way to the base.

She moaned at the sight of him, watching him suckle upon his own exposed flesh. She said suddenly at an urge, "Release for me, husband." And he did. Her words were all it took, he didn't need to lick, didn't need to suck, didn't need to stroke. Her order reached his ear, he howled a deep sound of lust and was suddenly drowned in a gurgling rush of his own semen, pouring down his own throat. As she watched he bucked in to his throat, fucked his own face, used his mouth like he might have used a female dragon's sex. She squirmed at the sight of it but held herself steady.

That morning the household found him trussed up and displayed in the ring yard on his back. His wings were rendered useless, his penis trapped out, and he was panting softly in lust as she stroked idly along his side. She just smiled a coy amused smile and looked to the astonished men and women, "Do you like my wings?" Behind her, her pet dragon whimpered and bucked his hips desperately and she just laid down to sleep, ignoring his needs to let them simmer and stew.

Quietly, after the humiliation had passed and they were again alone in the ring yard he lifted his head to her and whispered, "I love you my Lady; no, my queen, Queen Jocelyn." He shivered at the words and pressed his face in to her side with a timid and yearning whimper.

She gazed upon his closed eyes and nestling head and could only smile in joy. Her arms encircled his muzzle, pressed his forehead to her bare breast and told him, "And I love you, my Lord, my dragon, my mount. From atop your back I feel like I am a queen, without you I would be nothing." She then laid her head to his, kissed between his eyes and drifted off to sleep as she listened to his rumbled murmurs of pleasure.

**

Days passed, weeks passed, seasons came and went. One year out and another in, a second, a third. The round house became a true home, her servants grew accustomed to their strange Lord and Lady and eventually others joined them. Additions were built, land was cleared and a strange transformation took place. One spring she noted her chamber maid was wobbling as she walked and commented on it.

"Oh my Lady, forgive me, I fear Marc has sired a lad in me." It was a strange thought, one she had not fully mused on in many years. She had noticed her maid spending more time at the smithy than was entirely necessary yet she had paid it no mind.

The two of them were married that spring before the child was due and that following summer the child was born. The lusty cries from his lungs woke a yearning in her heart that she had never felt before. Though she had amused herself with many men great and small, taken pleasure and given pleasure; never before had she desired a child of her own until now.

That very night of her realization, as she laid in her dragon's arms she told him as much, "I wish that you could gift upon me a child of our own, yet a bird cannot lay with a bitch nor stag with mare. My mind knows these things yet my heart still aches."

His great head laid itself to her lap and cooed soothingly, yet nothing quelled the ache she felt within. At last, helpless he told her, "I would do in a heart beat if I could my Queen, but I know of no crossing of lines between our two kinds. Demand of me what you wish and I will fulfill, but I do not know how to please you." His words were pleading, nearly sobs as he felt such futility.

She thought suddenly and a sly smile played across her lips, "Hunt for a man, one who would suit our needs, one who is strong and quick of wits, one who would tell no tale. Hunt for this man, claim his seed and bring it to me. Do this as my husband as if it were your own heir you brought to my womb."

His head lifted and wide eyes gazed at her in obedient hunger. The pain had vanished with her command only duty and love in its place, "Of course my Queen! I will scour the land until I find the man who is worthy." In the darkness she undid his bondage. Iron clanked as it hit the ground, leather creaked, chains rained and eventually her glorious husband was free. She felt pride seeing his wings spread wide, free, yet knew he yearned for her bondage again. Lastly she unbound his penis. The tissue at the base was scarred and marked by many years wearing his bonds and at first it seemed to resist retraction. At last however it slid home with a deep satisfied groan from her Lord.

"Go now, my love." She bid him, then turned away as his wings swept, kicking up dirt and debris. He would be gone for two seasons, leaving her alone and forlorn. Word came to her of course upon the lips of her servants; a great beast roaming the night sky, scaring poor folk out of their wits. None could speak to a true sighting however, every suggestion was third and fourth hand and none described the beast perfectly.

When, deep in to winter her beloved finally returned; he spoke not a word and just settled to the ground before her. His breaths came in deep quick sucks, panting for air. She knew he had flown as fast and as hard as he could have back to her. Still without word his head bowed and he brought forth his tongue. In the moonlight it glistened with the pearly leavings of a man he deemed worthy.

Without hesitation she undid her belt and let her breeches fall free, then reached to spread her black thatch for him. For so many months without his company, without his pleasure, she felt deeply nervous before his massive form. Her eyes locked with his and he lifted his muzzle between to press his sticky tongue tip at her entrance. He thrust, one single penetrative thrust and she cried a deep, nearly sorrowful cry as her virginity was at last surrendered. She clutched at his wide muzzle and rocked her hips in time with his probing licks. She felt the wetness of his offering wash her insides and quell the hunger that had driven him from her.

"Thank you, my love." She bid to him as her first true penetrative climax subsided, then she laid down in his arms and refused to leave his touch for the rest of the year.

End