Monday, 17 April 2017

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a wicked excerpt for your entertainment!

Since I have been banging on about dragons with regards to In Bonds of the Earth, I thought I should post an excerpt from one of my early short stories, The Dragon's Bride. It's a story I'm pretty sure most editors would not dare touch these days - certainly I was lucky to get it into Black Lace during its more daring early incarnation!

Sheldi has been offered as a maiden sacrifice to a dragon, but when the vast beast snatches her away to his lair, it turns out that he can talk and has an alternative in mind to just eating her...

"Oh please," she whispered, forced to admit her pleasure as her hips, without voluntary instruction, pressed her aching mound against his reptilian tongue.

"Not yet," Oromon reprimanded, pulling his whole head back into the gloomy shadows of the roofspace. Sheldi stayed kneeling, her dignity stripped from her, her mind reeling. "Go to the fireplace," he told her. "There is oil there; anoint yourself."

Sheldi rose to her feet and walked unsteadily across to the cold hearth of the hall. She found the oil, golden and nearly odourless, in a barrel. As the dragon watched she poured cupfuls over her breasts and down her legs, rubbing it in with her hands until she was slick and gleaming from shoulders to toes, pressing herself shamelessly between the legs as he rumbled his amusement.

"Now come on," he commanded at last, but she needed no telling. She burned with frustration and curiosity. She wanted to know what a dragon's pizzle looked like. Taking a cupful of the oil with her, she walked across the breadth of the hall to the red wall of Oromon's belly.

From its rigid protective sheath his erection was beginning to protrude, white as fish-skin - shockingly pallid in fact against the dark colours of his scaled body - and glistening with its own moisture . Whether it was her taste and scent or his anticipation, she had begun to arouse him, and this made her flush in turn. Sheldi reached out to touch the pale flesh, feeling it smooth and slick beneath her palm. She poured some of the oil onto its tip and began to stroke it along the length, but more flesh emerged into sight in response to her touch.

"Harder," growled the dragon thickly. "You must be firm."

She obeyed at once, pressing and massaging him with the heels of her hands, causing him to to rumble deep in his throat and twitch his barbed tail. His penis was as thick as her own thigh, and not bulbed at the end like that of a man but tapering to a point, on the underside of which was a moist slit. Sheldi was awestruck. Her oiled hands described lavish caresses down span after span of its turgid length, and the erection jumped beneath her touch.

"Climb up now," Oromon told her.

She scrambled onto the ridged sheath and wrapped her arms around his pizzle to hold on as he rolled carefully onto his back. Sheldi found herself yards above the ground, straddling the dragon's stiff prick, her knees on the hot soft leather of his belly. The hard, slippery pole under her was as long as her own body now and pointed out like a battering ram. Sheldi had a vivid image of how bizarre it must look, this enormous spear rising from between her thighs, and the thought made her wriggle upon her perch. She pushed forward with her hands and rubbed backward with her groin upon the oily surface, working up a rhythm of pressure and motion. Oromon groaned and her head buzzed from the deep tones. Her own open, needy cunt was pressed against the white flesh, hopelessly unable to encompass its girth but yawning and desperate and sliding. Waves of heat passed through her belly; without warning she began to come, frigging herself on the dragon's huge prick, exultant, gasping out her release. The pizzle bucked beneath her, lifting her from her footing - she nearly lost her balance and had to lie forwards and cling to it as the shocking vibrations of her pleasure died away.

She came back to her senses lying face down, draped around the white lance that fitted tightly between her slippery breasts. She looked up the length of it toward Oromon's head, saw the glow of his golden eyes, his teeth bared in tension. No words came from him now; he was caught on the apex of anticipation, wordless and unthinking as any beast, needing her to finish what she had begun. She smiled.
Then she began to work her way up the length of that prick to the tip, using her whole oiled and sweat-slick body to rub it, wrestling, using the friction of hands and feet and breasts and thighs and groin. She clung to his member as if it were her lover, grinding and mauling. She felt muscular spasms chase through the taut surface of his belly. She reached the tip and pushed her face into the slit, delving with her tongue as she hugged and writhed.

And the dragon roared and arched and spent in ecstasy, his come gushing from him all over Sheldi, exploding in her face like a bucket of water, drenching her hair and breasts. It was hot and very wet; Sheldi choked as it forced its way into her open throat and she swallowed great mouthfuls.

It tasted of burned sugar, bitter and sweet all at the same time.

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