Chapter 2: What Pains You Friend?

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: General Erotica  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group

Reads: 240
Comments: 1

The witch nearly dashed the orb upon the stone floor in anger and disappointment. Only the nagging sense that she may have overlooked something stayed her hand. For three days and nights, without pause for rest she’d wrestled with mastering the Orb. Layer upon layer of densely woven spell had been slowly, painfully teased apart and unraveled. After all the effort, what did she have to show for it? A simple scrying stone. No more sophisticated than something she could have woven in the space of a few hours.

No, not even that. The Orb was tuned to find one object, and did not so much as locate it, as hint vaguely of its general vicinity. Her own mirror was a hundred times more useful. Still, though the temptation to satisfy the impulse just to see the Orb shatter satisfyingly upon the floor was strong, she didn’t give in. While it appeared be made to waste time and energy, it raised questions in her mind. Why bother to ward it so well, if it were just a decoy? Could its seeming uselessness be a cunning way to conceal its true value? Could it be that the Orb, though admittedly not the artifact she’d sought, be the key to locating it? Or was it more nonsense, designed to waste yet more time? Or, most likely of all, would it lead directly to a trap?

There would be great risk in seeking out answers to these questions. An unfamiliar expression touched her lips, the beginnings of a small smile. Familiar, perhaps, in that it was quite malicious. Well, risk was acceptable. She wouldn’t be the one who went, after all.

 

Rod, too, had had several busy days. The events he’d managed to survive had shaken him. At first, he almost convinced himself that he’d suffered some form of psychotic break. There were inconvenient facts to be explained. His injured shoulder. The minotaur charm. The scroll case. These he could easily explain away. He may have gotten blackout drunk and fallen badly, injuring his shoulder. During the same episode, he may have found more knick knacks found lying around his Aunt’s house. There were no end of those, and he wouldn’t be surprised to find some in places he hadn’t yet thought to look. The ring, however, presented an unique problem. For one, no matter what efforts he employed, it could not be removed. Soaps, oils — nothing employed would loosen its grip. During his visit to the Emergency Room to have his shoulder checked he’d made a point of complaining about it. Their efforts were no more successful. “This is odd,” the PA had announced. “I can’t even turn the ring.” He’d moved in close and examined it again. “It’s bonded to the skin of your finger.” He had given Rod a critical look, “Did you neglect to mention that epoxy was involved?” Rod denied that, “I just found it — it’s not even my ring. I put it on and couldn’t get it off.”

“Well, it looks to me that you were the target of a practical joke.” The inside must have been covered in some type of adhesive. I’ll try some solvent.”

To Rod’s annoyance, the alcohol, nail polish remover, and other, less familiar chemicals, failed to do anything other than irritate his skin. “Well, the only thing left to do is let time do its work — unless you want me to cut it off?”

“Please, I really would like to be rid of it.”

A few minutes, and one broken ring cutter, later the PA had admitted defeat. “I don’t know what kind of alloy this is, but it’s not even scratched. You’re just going to have to wait until the adhesive breaks down on its own. In the meantime, I’m going to write you a referral. The CT Scan results clearly show your rotator cuff is torn. You’ll need to keep it in a sling, and it may even be necessary to have surgery to repair it. The Ortho will be better able to determine the best course of treatment.”

Rod rather liked the idea that the ring represented some sort of practical joke. Considering the PA in the emergency room had been hinting strongly that he’d need surgery, it was the only good news he came away with. But that night he woke at two AM with a sudden need to pee, and headed groggily to the bathroom to relieve himself. At first he thought he’d fallen asleep with the lights on. Then then sleep fled and he came fully awake, cock in his hand with urine splashing into the bowl. He had had the sudden realization that there were no lights on. Despite this, he was able to see in the pitch-black room by some sourceless ethereal light. The eye drops had continued to work their spell on his vision.

There was no possibility of returning to sleep that night. So, after making coffee in the kitchen, he sat down and opened the scroll case that he’d studiously ignored for days.

Within the case was a single sheet of paper which, unfurled, was about eight inches by twelve inches, and was filled with dense, spidery writing. In this inadequate space he was supposed to find the promised lessons in magic. The first line was crushingly banal. It took the form of a simple math question, “What is the sum of one and one?” “Two,” Rod muttered to himself in annoyance. The first line changed in color from blue to green. “Count from one to one-hundred?” Rod, feeling slightly foolish, did so aloud, and again was rewarded by the change. He skipped forward, reading quickly down the document. The question upon the page grew increasingly involved, delving deeper into the field of math. The nature of the document dropped into place in Rod’s mind. “It’s a placement test.”

Rod was able to finish it in ten minutes, whereupon the page, now filled with green writing, writhed and wiggled upon the page and turned again to blue. He’d passed the test and now… he quickly reviewed the new writing revealed, and groaned to himself. Now he was being tested in Algebra. It continued like that, progressively more involved math questions. Then geometry, followed by calculus. By which time Rod was willing to call it a day. It appeared that one sheet of paper would be all that was necessary to hold the lessons. It seemed strange, though, that math was so important to magic. The test seemed endless. He’d been at it since the early morning and now it was late in the afternoon, and there was no sign of an end. Also, no sign so far of a single ‘abracadabra.’ The rest of the day he spent icing his shoulder, taking anti-inflammatory drugs, and staring at the minotaur charm, wondering if there was a way to turn it on. He decided sadly that the answer to that lay in a later lesson.

The morning of the third day following his adventure, Rod couldn’t face another day of testing. It wasn’t so much that it was hard, though it was, but that it was so boring. It had become as bad as his computer science finals. Then, too, the pain in his shoulder was getting worse and, with his Ortho appointment a week away, he needed to do something about it. “I need to get in to a chiropractor,” he decided. “Maybe all I really need is an adjustment. In any case, it’s worth a shot.” He’d seen a practice just the other day, near where he’d parked his car when he’d thought he was just going to do a bit of window shopping. He hesitated to return to Dunedin, but he couldn’t see the harm in going back. He would certainly stay away from that antique store, though. Maybe afterward he’d get a massage - providing he wasn’t in too much pain. He decided that his running clothes would be fine for his plans. A light and breathable fabric, perfect for the hot and humid Florida weather. And, more importantly, easy to get on and off.

Thirty minutes later, he’d parked in the office lot and was getting out of the car when, without warning, he was pulled away.

 

“I have a task you will perform, the witch began, before trailing off in surprise. Nothing in her experience thus far in life had prepared her for the sight of Rod. His arm and shoulder was bound in a wrapping that somehow covered a greater and and was more substantial than the clothing for his lower body. What was displayed there appeared to be underclothing of the skimpiest and sheerest material imaginable. A hot blush bloomed up her neck and covered her scalp as she realized that, though he was technically clad, his cock’s outline could be clearly discerned. She averted her eyes down, and saw that his feet bore upon them what she could only describe to herself as “foot gloves.” “What are you wearing?” she blurted out.

“Running outfit. Shoulder sling,” Rod replied involuntarily.

Though there were more pressing matters, the witch could not resist inquiring further while trying to focus on something that was neither flesh nor manhood. She settled for the shoulder covering which was reassuringly mundane. “These garments somehow aid you in running?” A twitch of a finger and a muttered syllable triggered a spell that confirmed there was no spell upon them as a precaution.”
 
“Yes. No.”
 
“Elaborate.”

“The running outfit is light, breaths well, and allows for freedom of movement, thereby it aids running. The shoulder sling prevents further damage while the joint heals.” Ah. She recalled then that, upon his return, he’d had an improvised sling on. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Considering how unlikely his survival had been, as minor an injury at that had been easily dismissed. Now, however, it presented a complication.

Everything involved with the wizard Zygon’s artifacts had been an endless series of complications. And with complications, came expense; both in gold and magic. It was tempting to send the odd man off as he was, but he’d proved to be a useful tool, succeeding where others had failed. It behooved her to make sure he was in full health before dispatching him. Provided it was within her abilities. Healing was a specialized discipline, and not one she’d spent time in mastering. She called forth the motes, and sent them questing. The sling faded from sight, then the flesh beneath, until the sinews and bones were revealed. A full-thickness tear in the supraspinatus tendon was visible, and the bursa pad was inflamed. Not bad at all, and easily remedied, she noted.

She flicked the motes away with a gesture and after the sling was removed she spread unguent generously over the shoulder. The motes were called back and revealed that the tissues within the shoulder had begun to knit. Satisfied, she returned the motes to storage with a gesture, and the illusory overlay disappeared. Satisfied that in a short time the process would complete, she returned to the reason for Rod’s summoning.

“There is a task for you to perform,” she said. She hesitated. “You have three days in which to complete this task, or suffer the consequences as before.” In all honesty, the witch was not happy with the deadline. It presented problems, not the least of which was the sheer unlikelihood of success. It would very likely be that she’d wasted resources in healing him. After all, she couldn’t tell him what to look for. She had only the current location, at this moment in time. The last few days of scrying had shown that the object was prone to relocating unpredictably. So far it had confined itself to an area of a few hundred square acres, but there was no reason to believe that it couldn’t go further. The ideal solution would have been to make the time limit more open-ended, but the ring was locked to the current parameters. Nulling it in order to reweave the spell was unthinkable. That would have freed the man while he was in her home. Likewise, she couldn’t call the ring back and change the spell because it was bound to the man.

Well, the problem would soon solve itself. After three days the ring would return. Sooner if he died before the time limit. It was just inconvenient, not a tragedy… well, not for her. “Find the object, touch it to the ring, and you will return here.”

“Now, go as before.”

“Wait a second,” Rod thought frantically as he found himself advancing to the mirror, hand outstretched.

The paralysis released him as he emerged on the other side of the mirror and screamed, “You didn’t tell me what I’m looking for.” His outraged scream startled a murder of crows from a nearby tree, but had no other effect.

After shouting and cursing at the space from which he’d appeared, Rod took stock of his situation. Things looked pretty bad. It was obvious that either the witch had no inkling what transpired on this side of the mirror, or she didn’t give a damn. Or both. He didn’t know where he was, or what he was after. And he only had three days to find something, without any idea of where it was, or what it was.

He was seriously screwed.

 

The sound of something very large crashing through the underbrush served to underscore that conclusion. By the sound of that, Rod thought, I should be elsewhere. Quickly putting thought to action, he began heading in the opposite direction in a loping jog. At first he moved cautiously. Without the support of his sling any unintended jarring of the shoulder joint would be painful. Perhaps enough to cause him to call out in pain and alert the forest denizens to his presence. In a few steps he realized that his shoulder felt fine, and he picked up the pace until he was in a full run, arms pumping.

In other circumstances Rod would have enjoyed the run. The forest air was invigorating. The day was cool. The weather fair. He was on a well worn path, with nothing to trip him up. The only mar on the fine day was that the sound behind him was approaching quickly despite his best speed. Oh, and that the path opened into a clearing that ended in a precipice.
Rod whirled around to see that the clearing was actually a tongue of land that overlooked a wide valley. There were no ways back, save for the path he had come by, and from that source a huge creature was forcing its way. Backing up hopelessly, Rod stared.

“You’re a dragon!” Rod exclaimed with a sense of wonder.

“No,” the behemoth hissed, “I’m an angry, pissed off dragon in great pain with a short temper.” It then gave an ungodly shriek and stretched its neck out at Rod, baring a mouthful of dagger-like fangs only feet from his face.

“Wow.” Rod’s voice trembled with a combination of astonishment and fear, “I’m going to be eaten by a dragon.

“That is so not the way I expected to die.”

The dragon tilted its head, pupils narrowing as it focused on the morsel before it. The response was unexpected. From past experience it had been prepared for crying, screaming, running away, even. The running away was generally his favorite response. There wasn’t much of a chance that a human could get away, but it was fun to go bounding after one before snapping it up. Really got the juices flowing. This standing still and talking was a new wrinkle on things.

“How do you expect to die?”

“I rather expect to be dragged through a lake of fire in three days.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Eh,” Rod shrugged, “Witch’s curse. If I don’t find something by the end of the third day, that’s it!”

The dragon’s pupils constricted still further, until the slimmest of arcs of black showed and hissed suspiciously, “What thing?” He didn’t have much of a hoard as yet, being only recently released from his Dame’s care and on his own, and if the little morsel was looking for it…

“I wasn’t told. So, you know, not a lot of hope of finding it.”

“Oh. Rough.”

“Yeah.”

“Witches,” the dragon commiserated.

“Yeah. Witches.”

An awkward moment of silence stretched out. Then the dragon continued, almost apologetically, “Well, I’m going to eat you now.”

“Sure, why not,” Rod sighed.

Instead, though, as the dragon moved in to kill, it suddenly shrieked, tail slamming the ground percussively. “Ow! It hurts! It hurts!” It spun around, snapping at its hindquarters before falling to its side panting heavily in pain. After a few minutes its breath slowed, though it continued to whimper softly as large drops ran from the corners of its eyes and down its snout.

Though it had been just threatening to eat him, Rod couldn’t help to feel compassion for the reptile. “What’s wrong? What’s hurting you? Can I help?”

The dragon sniffed morosely and accused Rod of just trying to get close enough to stab it with a sword. Rod held his arms out to either side and invited it to see for itself. “Not much chance that I could conceal so much as a pair of nail clippers in this outfit, is there?

“So, c’mon. Tell Rod where it hurts.”

“Down there,” it muttered.

Rod approached the dragon slowly, and looked down the long length of its body, but saw no sign of any trauma. “I don’t see anything obviously wrong. Can you be more specific where the pain is?”

“Down there,” it emphasized.
Rod peered closely, walking from breast bone to where the tail joined the haunches. “Your asshole?”

“No,” it said impatiently. “Not down there.” It hesitated, then blurted, “The other ‘down there’.”

Rod got the message, but was stymied by the fact that the dragon didn’t seem to have any other ‘down there’ down there.

“Between your legs?”

“Where else would it be,” it huffed.

Rod shook his head and said a little more forcefully than he’d intended, “Look, we aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re going to be coy. I don’t know why you’re being coy, but you’re going to have to get over it and speak plainly.

“First — what am I looking for? Are you a male or female dragon?”

“Obviously,” it hissed, “I’m a male!”

“It might be obvious to another dragon, but not to humans. Our expectations are for sexual characteristics to be something more obvious.

“Look,” Rod skinned out of his shorts unabashedly. “This is my cock, and under are my balls.”

“Are they always out in the open like that?”

“Yep.” Rod had a glimmer of an inkling of the truth. “Since we’re bipedal, they aren’t too much bother hanging free. But, that wouldn’t work for someone like you, would it?” Now Rod looked closer, running his hand across the fine, almost silky feeling scales that covered the dragon’s groin. Nothing revealed itself to his inspection, but his fingers felt a subtle seam that ran up from the midpoint of the dragon’s legs in line with the center of its tail, running up to where a naval would have been, if dragons had such things. He ran his fingertips up and down the seam, but it felt smooth and unmarred. The dragon had remained silent during this, while still whimpering every now and then, but didn’t show any sign of being uncomfortable with the examination. Gently, Rod put more pressure against the unseen seam, running up and down, and was rewarded by the widening of the seam. Now he was able to see the slightest gap running up the groin, that had been hidden before by he pattern of scales. “I’m getting somewhere. Just keep calm. This isn't’ hurting you, is it?”

Rod licked his thumb and skid it down the seam, pausing now and against to re-wet it, and coaxed the gap wider. His own body, initially confused by what was going on, had fallen in line with what Rod’s emotional intellect was telling it, and proceeded to rouse his organ to attention. “Dammit,” he chided it internally, “You’re being inappropriate.” He did his best to ignore it.

Despite his attentions, though, he made no more progress and, while the seam was now clearly visible and nearly an inch wide, there was no sign of an opening in the gap.

“The pain in inside, right? Is there any way to get the rest of the way open? If I try to force it, it just clamps down.”

“It hurts too much inside,” the dragon hissed. “It has to feel good to open. And, it’s never going to feel good again.” It sniffled sadly, “I should have never had put it in!”

Rod homed in on the statement, “Put what in?” The dragon hid its eyes under its wing and forced itself to explain. “I was rubbing inside with a stick I’d found, but it slipped in too far.” It started to sob, “And then I got scared, and my cock-hatch slammed closed, and the stick was trapped and it hurt even more and not it’s never going to feel good again!”

“It’s OK, baby,” Rod murmured, stroking the dragon gently. The dragon’s emotional outburst had coincided with the seam suddenly sealing back up. “I won’t leave you to suffer. And…” Rod thought about the psychology of sex, “… and, I’m pretty sure I know what to do, now.”

“Only… well, it’s kind of dirty. It might be taboo. So, I need to be up front with you.” Rod knew from personal experience that what might be painful under one set of circumstances could become pleasure in another situation. “How do you feel about having sex with another male?”

“That doesn’t make sense. It’s not possible.

“Is it?”

“For humans it is; I see no reason the same wouldn’t be true of dragons. But, let’s skip that for the moment. Would it be fair to say that, being as it’s not possible, that you have no violent objections to the idea?”

The dragon’s tail thrashed back and forth a bit while it considered the idea. “I guess not.”

“OK. So, how about sex with another species? Specifically, me?”

The beast hissed explosively in piping whistles. “It’s not funny to make jokes like that. As if a dragon and a human could have sex. Never in a million years.”

“Take another look at me, buddy. You notice anything different about my cock since before?”

“It’s pointing up instead of down. So?”

“That’s not just point up, lover boy. That’s a fully engorged, totally erect, human cock. I’m already halfway there.

“So, what do you say? You willing to let me do what needs to be done?”

“But it hurts too much!”

“Oh, baby. I’ll make you forget the pain.”

“Well… OK. But, this is ridiculous. I mean, a dragon and a human. It’s inconceivable.”

“I don’t think that word means what you think it means.” Rod pressed against the wall of the dragon’s belly and felt the smooth scales slide across his body. “You’re a magnificent dragon,” he breathed. “I’d never have dared to hope that I’d ever be this close to you. Your skin is so smooth, each scale shines like a precious diamond under the sun.” Rod touched his lips to the faint seam running down the dragon’s groin and kissed it lightly, “What have you got hidden away from me in there, I wonder? I’ve wanted to know since you first appeared, magnificent and terrifying, and so intensely desirable.” Down where the seam began, at the closest point to the tail, Rod began to probe and lick at it with his tongue, working his way to the far end.

“You didn’t even know I was male,” it muttered, but Rod paid it no heed. Already, and much faster than before, the seam had relaxed and the slightest sliver gaped wide.

Rod returned to the base between the dragon’s legs, and let his tongue gently probe and tease, finding the body under his attentions respond more strongly to the gentle wet probing of a tongue than the rougher, more forceful finger he’d previously employed. The dragons tail had begun to undulate slowly, making a faint swishing sound as it moved through the grass surround them. “What did he call this,” Rod wondered. “Oh, yes; I remember.”

“Open your cock hatch, and let me see what you have got hidden away from me,” he pleaded. “Don’t make me suffer like this, full of overwhelming desire! Can’t you feel how hard my cock is?” Rod ground his body against the creature and moaned with pleasure, then returned to his insistent licking, with broad powerful strokes of his tongue. The dragon tasted faintly of cinnamon, and seemed to be moist now. The gap had widened to stretch two inches wide, pink, scaleless flesh was visible. The dragon’s lungs seemed like bellows, huge volumes of air being pumped in and out. “Oh, god!,” Rod cried, “Give me your cock!” Down again Rod went, his tongue plunged down beyond the visible seam and penetrated beyond. With a cry of release and relief, the dragon arched and the seam split open, everting outward in a rising mound of dragon flesh. Rod felt his own cock twitch in sympathy as the dragon’s cock rose to meet his lips.

The cock was like nothing Rod had encountered before, though given the situation he had to admit to himself that was to be expected. Still, there were major differences. For one, it was much shorter than he’d have expected, and did not extend any real distance from the body. It swelled upward by about a foot beyond the lips of the seam outlining it. It looked like a Shiite mushroom head. In any case, that was as close as Rod could come in describing it to himself. The opening at the tip, though, was exceptional. It gaped open like a sewer pipe, a good twelve or more inches in diameter.

Rod remembered himself and began to loudly admire it for the dragon’s benefit. “Oh, it’s everything I hoped for. No, it’s better than that! How fat and full a cock you have, how delicious it tastes, like cinnamon.” That, of course, was something he’d been noticing for some time now. “Is the pain too bad still?”

“It went away as soon as the cock hatch opened.” The dragon sighed. Then, a note of apprehension entered its voice, “But it won’t stay like this, and when it closes…”

“No, no, my big sexy dragon,” Rod urged as the cock threatened to retreat again in the dragon’s anxiety. “Don’t think about that right now. Rod’s gonna make it all better.” But how?

“I’ll try.”

Rod turned his attentions to the mount of flesh before him, stroking and exploring, teasing it back to full bloom.

“Is this what sex is like?” The dragon suddenly asked. “Oh, wow,” Rod replied. “Well, this is one form. But, if you mean, is this how it works for Dragons, I’m afraid you’ll have to ask another Dragon.”

“I tried when I came of age and was evicted from my Dame’s lair. She wouldn’t say, just said I’d know when it came time.”

“Typical,” Rod thought. “Mom’s too embarrassed.”

“You should ask your father.”

Ron continued to coax the cock and studied the problem. “I’m going to have to take a closer look. Can you Can you roll over onto your back?”

“I don’t know about that. Putting my belly up like that makes me feel vulnerable.” Rod reasonably pointed out that exposing its cock was, by most measures, an even more vulnerable position. It was a point the dragon had to concede and so, with no little amount of complaining, it complied. Seeing it lying on its back Rod was struck by its sheer size. He’d realized the dragon was a big creature, of course, but when it was curled up on its side he’d not given thought to precisely how big. Stretched out, flat on its back, he realized that it was a good thirty foot long, from nose to tail. Its vast torso was higher than he could reach, the cock itself hidden and beyond reach. “OK. I’m going to have to climb up to you now.” Rod decided the tail provided the easiest climb, and walked to where he could straddle it. It twitched gently, as he mounted it, and he suddenly found himself dumped on the ground. “Umm… can you keep your tail still? I need to shimmy up it.” All but the very tip stilled, and Rod resumed his attempt. The beginning of the climb was simple enough. Rod hugged the tail with arms and legs and worked his way up like an inchworm measuring a leaf. It was an oddly erotic process, as his still-rigid cock slid across smooth scales, and soon Rod was panting from a combination of arousal and exertion. Soon his grip became more precarious as the tail’s girth broadened. Then the tail began to sway under him, compounding the problem. “Can you still your tail again?”

“No,” the reptile moaned. “It does that when I’m feeling really good.” Rod gathered himself, clinging as tightly as he could, and managed to slide up another foot. In response there came a low rumbling and a shudder ran down the tail. “Oh, god! It feels so good!

“Why does it feel so good?,” it cried.

Rod clung grimly as the shudders ran through the flesh beneath him. He looked ahead, seeing that he was nearly there. The dragon’s anus was just above his head, and after that, the slope evened out to the flat of the dragon’s groin. The anus was twitching strangely, almost winking at him, and Rod felt a moment of apprehension. “You don’t need to shit, do you?”

“No! I did that a couple of days ago. It’ll be weeks before I have to go again.”

The clues fell into place in Rod’s mind and he had a sudden revelation. “I’m in an erogenous zone,” he announced, and froze. With his cessation of movement the tremors slowly subsided. He and the dragon caught their breath.

“What an… erroneous zone?”

“Erogenous,” Rod clarified. “Sexual pleasure isn’t all about the cock for human males, and it appears to hold true for dragons, too. It’s probably why you were reluctant to get into this position. Exposing an erogenous zone is about as vulnerable as someone can get.

“Well, I’m almost there. If you can control yourself for a bit longer…” Rod trailed off. This wasn’t going to be easy. “OK — you know what’s coming, so prepare yourself. I’m going to slowly move up as far as I can.” Rod shifted slowly as he could, working his legs up until he was almost kneeling and then, with a warning to the dragon, pushed himself half a body length up the tail. The beast hissed slowly, and kept its breath slow and steady as Rod had instructed. Rod clung tightly in anticipation, his body pressed against the tail. He could feel the asshole under his chest now, a tiny sphincter within that huge mass, and it trembled. “That’s good,” he encouraged. “Just another couple times and we’re past this part.

Again Rod slowly brought his knees up and then pushed strongly upward. But, disastrously, Rod’s cock hit painfully against the tail as he came down, and when he shifted to reposition it he slipped. With desperate strength Rod tightened his grip, pulling in hard against the surface beneath him. He  felt his cock slam against the tail, but this time it continued down until it was buried deep in hot dragon flesh. Rod’s cry of pleasure mingled with the dragon’s — one deep and throaty, the other a high-pitched shriek. Rod clung desperately, as the tail bucked beneath him, his cock slamming in and out in response to the shuddering, thumping movement.
“What is that? What have you done?”

“My cock slipped in,” Rod gasped.

“Well, take it out!,” the dragon demanded.

Rod could feel a peculiar sensation gripping his cock. The asshole’s twitching was somehow pulling him in deeper. The dragon’s hole had a grip on him, almost sucking at his cock in an effort to take in more. Under other circumstances, he was sure it wouldn’t have been enough to trap him, but the earthquakes of pleasure shaking the surface beneath him prevented him from doing anything beside hanging on tightly. “I can’t,” Rod moaned. “I’m barely able to hang on. If I move at all, I’ll fall off.

“I didn’t intend for this to happen, please believe me!” Rod realized now that he should have put his running shorts back on after he’d displayed himself. Too late! “I’m not hurting you, am I?” Rod knew full well that what the dragon was experiencing was a far cry from pain. He could feel himself on the verge of exploding and had to school himself rigidly in order to not give in to the desire to fuck.

The dragon’s hind legs were pawing at the sky, and it strove to control itself, too. “As if,” it snorted. “Is this another one of those erogeny zones?”

“Well, it does appear to be the case. That’s another thing we have in common. I enjoy a good fuck, myself.”

“Fuck?”

“Cock in ass action.”

“I don’t think dragon cocks go in to things,” it replied doubtfully.

They had both settled down to relative calm again, though Rod could feel the dragons’ asshole persistently pulling at him in sinuous waves. He wouldn’t be able to stand much more of that kind of attention.

“OK, I’m going to get ready to move up again. I’ll pull my legs up, when I shift that will withdraw my cock. Then, I think one more push and I’ll be on your belly.” And none to soon, he realized. His arms and legs were trembling from the effort of the climb, and he doubted he’d be able to maintain his grip for much longer.

But he’d only managed to move his legs and back his cock out a few inches when something slammed into his back, driving him back down. Unnoticed, the dragon’s tail had arched up and was now pressed against its belly, pinning Rod in place. Ahead Rod saw clear fluid upwelling in surging waves from the dragon’s cock.

“Dragon! You’ve pinned me down. Get your tail out of the way.”

“I can’t,” it moaned. Beneath him, Rod could feel the asshole sucking at his cock with renewed energy. “As soon as you started to pull out, it curled up on its own.” Pushing against the pressure Rod managed to pull out, but, try as he might, he couldn’t completely withdraw before the tail would spasms tightly against the body and force him back flat. Ahead of him, the cock’s outflow was running down the torso in streams in time to the spasming, sucking ass.

“This is more than I can stand,” Rod thought. “I can’t hold off much longer.” He tried again, pulling back two…three…four inches, before being forced back down. The dragon’s sudden cry, “Oh god, Rod! Fuck me!” gave him the excuse to abandon his efforts to free himself, and he focused solely on the pleasure.

Hips working, Rod pushed hard and deep and pulled back to repeat again and again. The flesh beneath him shuddered and spasmed, the hole he plowed sucking at his cock like a demanding mouth. The tail curled against him and held him firmly in place and Rod forgot his precarious position as he surrendered to the pleasure. In moments the combined sensations of his forceful fucking and the demanding sucking of the dragons ass brought him to the brink and then, unable to hold back, he cried and plunged in, shooting cum in great shuddering spasms, then collapsed, spent. Still, the dragons passage pulled greedily at him, draining every drop, and the post orgasmic sensitivity of his cock meant even greater, almost painfully intense, waves of ecstasy rushed over his mind, while he cried out wordless shouts of pleasure.

Rod lost track of time, and never knew how long he spent in that strange embrace, bu eventually, despite the best efforts of the pulling ass beneath him, his cock finally softened and eventually slipped free. He lay as his heart slowed and he caught his breath, and slowly returned to the now.

Panting, the dragon demanded peevishly, “Why did you stop? I was enjoying that. Don’t stop now! It was just getting good.”

“Can’t continue,” Rod panted. “Not for a while, anyway. You’ve taken everything I had to give.” After that session, Rod doubted he’d be good for anything for hours. He was drained in a way he’d never experienced before.

“Besides, we’d better concentrate on the reason I’m up here in the first place!” The nectar issuing in slow surges from the dragon’s organ had run in rivers and was now soaking Rod. Rod used what seemed to be the last of his strength as the tail loosened the pressure against his back. Pushing with his legs, the rubber toes of his running shoes helping him to get the grip he needed, he slid free, like a watermelon seed propelled from between fingers, shooting forward to fetch up against the mound he’d been trying to reach during his climb.

Hugging the stumpy organ, he got to his knees and looked over the lip of the head and into the opening of the cock. Liquid filled it to the brim, welling up in slow, rhythmic waves, spilling over the lip. It was like looking down into a well, the depths shrouded in darkness. There was no sign of the stick the dragon had mentioned. He supposed it was somewhere beneath he surface. The dragon, during this time, had continued to complain about how brief the fuck had been. He’d gone pretty quickly from a shy virgin, with his use of euphemisms, to speaking very plainly in record time. His “down there”’s and “the other down there’s” had been replaced with asshole and cock, as in, “Having your cock in my asshole was fun, and it made my cock really happy.” That did, happily, bring him back to the right track. “Can you see the stick that’s in my cock? My cock-hatch isn’t going to stay open for long.

“Unless you are ready to fuck me again? I think that would do the trick.” Rod shook his head. A horny dragon added to his problems.

“Can’t see it,” he said truthfully. Then, “And, after the way you drained me, it’ll be days before I could manage it again, anyway.” That brought back an unpleasant reality, “And, since I’ll be dead in three days, that may have been the one and only time for us.”

“No!” the dragon protested. Rod felt touched at how distressed the dragon sounded. It sounded like he cared now, but then it revealed the source of its distress. “How can I ever find someone to fuck me again?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Rod thought. “Well, maybe don’t treat people you meet like pieces of meat? That would be a good start.” The dragon missed the point, and focused less subtle meaning.

“Yes. I can see that. Threatening to eat someone would put them off the idea.

“I wouldn’t have eaten you, by the way. Some dragons do, of course. Still, I think that even if I promised not to eat them, I think they’d just run away.”

Rod put his hand in the gaping hole and, stretching to reach the other side, felt around the interior, but nothing came to his questing fingers. “Well, you’ll just have to convince them to say and listen.”

“How?” it demanded plaintively.

Rod steadied himself and leaned over, thrusting one arm deep into the cock’s opening. He was precariously balanced across the tip of the cock, and had little enough attention to spare. “Oh, I don’t know. Dragons are supposed to hoard gold, aren’t they? Well, then, loosen up a bit and offer to pay.”

“I’m not going to give my hoard away!”

“I'm not suggesting you give them your hoard. Just offer a little bit. Maybe a gold necklace or some coins. Whatever passes for cash around here.” Rod groped blindly as far as he could, but his questing fingers only encountered smooth walls. “You’d be surprised at just how little it would take, provided you find the right person. Humans are probably as mad for gold as dragons.” There was a heart stopping moment as, straining to reach as deeply as possible, Rod was shaken by a tremor of the dragon under him and a resulting wave of liquid nearly caused him to slip from his perch.

“Oh! That’s nice. Just keep doing that!” The thrashing of its tail sent ripples across its body, but by some miracle of effort Rod managed to hang on, returning to his desperate hug against the cock, face pressed against the slick surface as waves overflowed and ran down it. “You stopped again! You always stop just when it gets good!”

Rod cautiously opened his eyes, fearing the liquid would burn. He was relieved to discover that, though it smelled of cinnamon, it didn’t have the same effect. “Dragon,” he chided, “You’ve got to focus. You have to control yourself if I’m to have any chance of freeing you from the stick.”

“I’m sorry, Rod,” the dragon responded. “I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll hold still, and then you’ll get the stick out of me, right?”

Rod had doubts. He’d reached in as far as he could, even further when he nearly fell, but for all that, he’d had no luck. There had been nothing he could find to grab hold of. Maybe if he could see where it was…

Oh. That was an idea. A bad one, and a desperate one, but he couldn’t see an alternative. He peered over the lip into the well. The upwelling waves had subsided, the liquid surface sloshing gently at the lips of the opening. The opening itself had grown wider. Its diameter was now several inches greater. What had seemed doubtful and desperate now seemed just barely possible.

Rod announced his intention to the dragon, and reinforced the seriousness of the matter. “You’ve got to control yourself,” he continued. “No matter how it feels, don’t give in,” Then, taking a deep breath, Rod inserted his head into the gaping hole. His luck, which he’d had no reason to believe in, was with him, and he found he could keep his eyes open beneath the surface. The fluid got into his sinuses, and felt odd, but there were no ill effects. It even felt soothing to his eyes. He looked down the shaft, marveling at the oddity of this view. A long, pink tunnel lay below him, curing gently as it disappeared toward the tail. And, there it was. Tantalizingly out of reach, he could see the object causing the dragon’s pain. Wedged diagonally in the tunnel, just where it would cause excruciating pain when the cock hatch closed, was a long, smooth branch. It was perhaps six foot long and, maddeningly, nearly that same length beyond the opening. Hopelessly Rod twisted his body, bringing his shoulder up against his neck as he tried to reach over his head to bring his arm along side, but as he feared it would, he fell far short of his goal. The dragon tried to remain still, but the maneuvers caused involuntary tremors to run through its flesh and Rod withdrew.

“I have to be honest,” Rod  said reluctantly. “This is bad. The stick is in deep and there’s no way I can reach it from here.”

“Please,” the dragon pleaded. “Isn’t there something you can do? I’ll give you my hoard. It’s not much, just enough to pillow my head, but it’s yours.”

“I don't’ need your gold. I doubt very much I could take it where ever I go.” He wondered how long he could hold his breath. He was in good shape, never smoked, ran regularly. It might be possible, but there was a risk he’d just end up making matters worse. He could seriously injure what he now thought of as a sweet idiot. If the dragon couldn’t control itself, he could end up dead. Rod weighed the two against one another. Death by fire, which could not be pleasant, or this. He made his choice. “OK, I do have an idea. But, this could hurt. Possibly more than the stick hurts — are you sure?”

“Anything would be better than spending the rest of my days like this.”

Rod bit his lip, but felt like his decision had already been made. He took several deep breaths, exhaling completely after each, before taking a last breath and holding it. Like a diver, both arms held in front and over his head, Rod bent over until he was up to his neck in cock. Then he pushed, wriggling his shoulders, and let his body’s weight press him down. He managed one shoulder in easily, but had to push hard before he could force the other into the tunnel. He could dimly hear the dragon yelp in pain as the mouth was stretched forcefully wider. Then Rod began crawling, pressing his hands against the tunnel before him, wriggling ever deeper. His feet left the belly, and he raised them until the were directly above him, almost as though he were standing on his head. His weight was helping him, and he slid deeper, getting closer to the object. There was a massive shudder of the tunnel that now engulfed him from the hips up, and the liquid suddenly surged, pushing against him. Rod clung grimly to the tunnel in front to resist the flow, digging his fingers in to hold against the pressure.

Although it was muffled by the liquid in his ears, and seemed to come from far away, he could hear the dragon as it shouted. “Rod! Oh no, Rod! It’s too much! I can’t help myself, its too much for me!” The beast bucked beneath him, and with each shudder Rod slipped in deeper. The only portion of his body not engulfed in the shaft of the dragons cock were his knees down. Or, considering his inverted position, his knees up. He could feel the cum splashing his shins as it geysered up under great pressure. The stream slowed as the massive quake passed. Rod reached desperately with his left hand. He could almost touch the stick. He knew he must be nearly completely within the dragons cock now. An observer would probably be able to see his feet protruding from the dragons cock, though a wise one would have steered far clear of the thrashing, moaning reptile, its tail furiously pounding at the ground.

Rod’s vision was turning red, and he longed for a breath. He wondered how, or if, he could extricate himself even if he managed to reach the stick. Then, the pressure that had been pushing against him eased, stopped, and Rod felt a sudden vacuum pulling him deeper. He slid helplessly down, scrabbling at the sides of the tunnel to slow himself. The dragon screamed in ecstasy as he did. As the most powerful explosion yet erupted Rod found he was close enough, and grabbed it with his right hand.

And the ring came into contact with the surface of the stick.

 

The witch was in the kitchen preparing a light evening meal when a mysterious sound came from her workshop. She stopped what she was doing and went to investigate. A wave of liquid washed up against her shoes as she entered the room and she stood in shocked disbelief at the sight her eyes beheld. Standing in the center of a rapidly spreading pool of liquid was the ring slave. His buttocks were exposed, and she supposed that he had somehow managed to lose the flimsy shorts he had been wearing, but managed to retain his skimpy top and the ridiculous foot coverings. That he had even returned was astonishing, and she wondered if somehow the spell on the ring had triggered in error.

It just got worse the closer she came, as she could see reflected in the mirror that he was as rampant as a stag in rut. She discretely directed her gaze down and away from the unsettling sight. Streams of liquid sluiced  onto the floor, and there was an almost overpowering stench of cinnamon, a spice she personally could never stomach. “What is this liquid?”

“Dragon cum,” came the compelled answer.

“Dragon come,” she muttered, trying to tease some sense from the words. Come from where? To what purpose? She wasn’t prepared for a dragon! It wasn’t even a proper answer to the question. He was compelled to state precise answer when possible. By that criteria, his reply could only be a statement of fact, not a message of warning. Could this have come from a dragon, and he lacked the words to properly describe the substance? “Dragon come,” she mused. A horrible feeling of revolted certainty washed over her. “Dragon…,” she paused, dreading the taste of the next word, she cared not to utter it at all, “…ejaculate?”

“Yes.”

“Oh God!” She skipped back rapidly, for a heart stopping moment she nearly tripped and fell. The idea of falling into that unspeakable substance was unthinkable. Did her toes feel damp? Was it soaking through her shoes? Awkwardly, from the safety of the kitchen she kicked them away from her, and they sailed back into the workroom, landing with a soft splash. Before anything else, this mess had to be mopped up.

She positioned herself a safe distance from the doorway and commanded Rod into the kitchen. “Oh, God! He’s still dripping,” she thought. “Do I have any rags? Oh, and he’s got to cover that… thing up. I can’t bear looking at it. I swear it’s leering at me.”

“Go through that door and down into the cellar,” she instructed. “There is a trunk with clothing within.” She would just have to sacrifice those woolen things. They were too hot and sweaty for summer, and were, in any case, an objectionable plaid. “Find something to cover yourself with, and bring the rest up and mop up the liquid on the floor in the workroom. Go.”

As Rod moved, she snapped, “Stop!” She had been so intent in avoiding catching a glimpse of his nude lower region that she didn’t notice until this moment that he carried something. It wasn’t from her home, and he certainly hadn’t had it when she’d dispatched him on his mission. Reluctantly, she inched closer to get a better look. It appeared wooden, but not from any common wood. It was a deep ebony shade, polished smooth with no knots marring it. About two inches in diameter, and six foot in length. It appeared to be something entirely unexpected.

There was no doubt in her mind. This was Zygon’s staff! The Orb had pointed to its location. A hot flush rose up her neck for the second time that day, but this time she stared with greedy desire. She wanted to take it in her hands, but knowing what it was covered in gave her pause. “In addition to your order, you are to first use one of the rags to wipe the staff you hold dry. Then, you are to wrap it in fresh, dry cloth and return it to me. Then, you may proceed as before.

Rod moved to obey.

 

She dropped to her chair, staring at the lines revealed to her eyes. They spiraled up the shaft tightly, so incredibly tight! She had been proud of her skill with spell script. Fitting the twenty lines onto the surface of a ring had taken her to new levels of mastery of the motes. This, though, this was beyond her understanding of what was possible to achieve. The same density of script would have allowed a hundred lines — nay, more. Half a thousand, perhaps. How densely woven was the staff? What had she retrieved? She was deeply afraid of the staff. The scope of mastery it implied made her own efforts look like a toddler stacking blocks to proudly spell ‘cat’. The critical part of her retorted, “More a toddler spelling it ‘kat’ and crowing with delight.” Her skin crawled, thinking of the risk she’d taken in touching it without protection. And not just because of the faint smell of cinnamon that continued to cling to it, with the unwholesome implications that conveyed.

Thinking upon that, another concern assaulted her anxious mind. The tool she had employed, bound to her by the child’s toy of a ring, there was something deeply disturbing to be found there, as well. Twice he had been sent to what was almost assuredly his doom. Set on an impossible task, he had not only succeeded, but had done so in an astonishingly brief time. He was like the staff — so easily dismissed when judged by appearance alone, but in some unfathomable way, more powerful than she understood. To confront a dragon was itself impressive, but two? Whilst they mated? No normal man would risk such a thing. And yet, he returned, with nary a scratch. Only the trifling loss of a piece of cloth being witness to whatever titanic efforts had been required.

If she admitted it to herself, and as shaken as she now was, she didn’t have the strength to dissemble, he frightened her as much as the staff. She had control over him, but for how long? Would he someday soon appear at her door, having tracked her down from whatever remote corner of the world he was from, to exact his vengeance? He had, she realized with dismay, complete autonomy when not within her sight. Was he even now seeking a way to break her hold?

She would have to abandon her home. The risk in remaining was too great. In any case, she had already decided that she could not use her workroom any longer, and it was the majority of her home. There was a stain upon the floor. Something within the dragon’s… ichor had permanently colored the stone a faint pinkish hue. She could barely stand to tread upon it.

The ring! She groaned to herself. That, too, would be lost to her. Given time she could recreate the spell and enchant another ring. Provided she could afford to purchase, or perhaps steal, another. A new home would be costly… and she’d have to abandon all but what she could carry.

The mirror! That could not be left behind. While the ring could be replaced, the mirror was special. It would be a heavy burden, true. But she thought she could form a harness from ropes and thereby carry it upon her back. But, in taking it, much else would have to be abandoned. Hot tears of self-pity burned at her cheeks. How could the world be so cruel to her? It was so unfair. To have come so far, to achieve what she had, and to have it all dashed to the ground, smashed like a delicate porcelain cup. She choked back a sob, forced herself to steel her emotions, and did what was necessary.

In his home world, Rod, too, did what he had to do. Having been returned, he’d spent the remaining hours of the afternoon concealed amongst a stand of pines at the side of the trail, waiting for night to fall. Though his modesty was maintained by the cloth he’d found and wrapped around his body, he didn’t wish to make a spectacle of himself when returning to where he had parked. He needed, in any case, an extended period of rest. The combined effects of his morning run, the encounter with the dragon, and hours of mopping and re-mopping up the workroom had exacted their toll upon him.

After full dark had fallen, he jogged cautiously back to the car, careful to keep as much to the shadows along the trail as possible. Anyone in the houses whose backyards bordered the trail that saw him would have thought his garb odd, but given that Dunedin had an active Scots community, they would have mistaken the plaid cloth around his waist as tartan. The sight of a tartan-wearing jogger, while unusual, was not completely impossible. Odd enough, true, but given it was Florida, not unduly alarming.
 
Coincidentally, as Rod did his best to return home, the witch was a mile from hers, each step taking her yet further away. She was bent nearly double, hunched under the burden upon her back. A bundle of bedclothes and clothing wrapped the precious mirror, protecting it from damage. Tied to the rope harness she’d fashioned dangled some kitchen utensils — an iron pan, a pot, a kettle, some cannisters, and some of the canned goods from her garden. These clanked and clunked with each measured step. She grasped the staff with both hands, needing its support to help her remain upright. Had there been any observers that deep within the forest, they would have dismissed her as an old crone, bearing to market a burden of fagots upon her back.

“Old mother,” someone might have cried, “Rest your old bones, and allow me to bear your burden for a time.” But, there were no observers and the only pity felt, was that felt by the witch for herself.

 


Submitted: February 02, 2020

© Copyright 2022 T. R. Kaley. All rights reserved.

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Storywriterx

That dragon must have been gigantic and its cock enormous. At first I thought Rod was going to stick his cock in the dragon's cumhole and fuck the creature with it. Crawling right inside of its cock was a total surprise. Not that I didn't like the fact that Rod got to fuck its asshole but Rod's cock wouldn't be able to fill it if its size was proportional to its cock.
Your imagination seems to have no limits. I could never think up anything this far out but I enjoyed reading the story and the one before it. Keep up the good work, I love it.

Thu, February 6th, 2020 10:14am

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Thank you so very, very much! I hadn't thought about my a****** problem until you brought it up (why was I censored, and you weren't?). That's what happens when you're typing an internalized fantasy; the heat of the moment can lead to unusual destinations. I will have to reconsider dragon physiology... LOL I hate to lose that section, mainly cuz it makes me giggle, but the chapter is going to be in need of heavy editing later. Perhaps the dragons arse is as tightly sealed as its cock hatch? I have to think.
I tried to give a sense of scale to the dragon, but I suspect I fell short. His "cock" is more an extrusion of the urethra. Somewhat similar to the alligator. But, completely different. Dragon sex is unique, and I return to it later in the book.
Thank you so much for the feedback. You've greatly assisted me in seeing the weak spots in this chapter!

Thu, February 6th, 2020 5:34am

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