This 1,000 word fantasy quickie is for mature readers only. It’s about the real reason dragons have a tendency toward fair maidens.
The journey was the most harrowing part of the whole ordeal. Dragonflight was faster than anything she had ever experienced before, in equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. As she rode on the great creature’s back, Minerva watched as the world below became less and less familiar with every blink. Trees became craggy rock, well-worn paths faded from view, and soon the bitter cold whipped at her exposed skin. After what seemed like a lifetime, the dragon landed at the mouth of a cave, peeking out from the side of a mountain.
Minerva had been trained as a dragon maid her entire adult life. To be chosen was as much a blessing as much as it was a curse. Thanks to her training, she could outfight and outlast everyone in the village, man or woman. She was strong. Lithe. On the other hand, she had to give up the notion of having a normal life. The other women would have simple lives, in warm homes with smiling children and doting husbands. But not Minerva. Because tonight she was going to show the dragon’s son why she was worthy of being its mate.
She walked ahead of the dragon, as was custom, deeper into its lair. The sound of her own bare footsteps were drowned out by the thud of its claws and the rumble that was its every breath. The natural formations of the mountain cavern gave way to angular, carved walls. Intricate designs were etched into the hallway and led the way forward. Together, the two of them passed chamber after chamber, silent, until they arrived at the most recent, innermost sanctum. There, Minerva saw her mate for life for the first time.
Soviir was beautiful. His powerful muzzle was framed by pointed ridges. Two, sword-like horns extended from his brow, following the line of his slender neck and across his body to his battering ram of a tail. Thick, red scales acted as an armor her mate would never be able to remove. She admired the body, which Minerva knew held the fire of a thousand forges, held up by four legs rippling with muscle. And between those legs…
“Soviir, son of Kaastrun, last prince of the Dreywyrm.” Minerva began the ritual, never taking her eyes off his serpent gaze. “I am Minerva, of the village of—”
“Enough, human.” Kaastrun had left the room. It was just the two of them now. Soviir took several patient steps towards where she stood. He towered over her, but not by much. Most of the height was in his wings. Soviir was still practically a hatchling, after all. As old as she was. “My flames can reduce a mighty tree to ashes, and my claws can rend a man in the space of a breath. What can you possibly offer me?”
Minerva let her robe fall to the ground. It was the strange custom of dragons to not tell their sons about this part of the mating night. Soviir stopped talking, dumbstruck by her naked form. It was probably the first time he had even seen a naked woman. He wouldn’t know why he found her so alluring, and yet still he licked his lips.
“Lay down, son of Kaastrun, on your back,” she commanded. The dragon hesitated, but did as he was told. He took care to splay out his wings on either side. Minerva was tempted to look at his cock—she had always wondered what it would look like—but first things first. She straddled his form, holding her sex to his muzzle. The smell of her would be enough.
“You will have many enemies, prince,” she continued, “and sometimes even your burning and tearing won’t be enough to deal with all of them. Sometimes, a delicate touch is needed. I am that delicate touch. We will be equals, you and I, warlord and war queen, sword and shield.”
Soviir was hypnotized by her scent. It woke certain parts of his body that he had previously ignored. For the first time in his life, he was unsure, but he didn’t feel any danger. He was torn apart by his pride on one side, and his desire to submit on the other. But that smell… if it tasted as good as it smelled…
Miranda moaned as the dragon’s furnace-hot tongue lapped up her sex. Her nipples, already erect from the cold, were now firm with desire. Then, she heard it. Behind her, Soviir’s cock unfurled. It was time. She turned, and looked upon what she would be taking inside her.
It was bigger than she expected. It had an engorged tip, more pointed than a human’s would be, but still fleshy. The shaft was surrounded by thick bands of muscle below and on its side, but the top was more ridge-like, as if they were scales that didn’t completely form. Minerva gave a small sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t covered in scales.
She gently pushed the dragon’s maw away from her now dripping-wet slit, and lowered herself onto Soviir’s length. It was as warm as his tongue, if not warmer. She had to ease him into her at first. He was enormous, and taking him all in at once would only harm her. Soviir wouldn’t complain, but she wanted this to be pleasurable for the both of them.
Each time she came down, a little bit more of the dragon cock pushed past her opening. The feeling was incredible—the tip felt good by itself, but the more Minerva opened up, the more she could feel Soviir fill her entire being. His cock was firm, and she was only too willing to let it slide into her again and again. There were a few times where she had to slow down, as she felt him tense up.
This battle of little by little continued, until Minerva finally laid her hands on Soviir’s belly. That was where the flames were hiding. Soviir looked at her, his face full of desire, erotic bliss, and wonder, as she slammed herself down and took all of him in at once. She rode him like that, bouncing her fleshy bottom against the roughness of her scales, feeling her muscles clench around the dragon’s immense shaft.
It wasn’t long before Soviir’s wings fully extended, blowing dust away from either side of them. She felt him cum, like lava pouring out of a volcano, into her womanhood. She did not relent, fucking him as hard as her conditioned body would let her. Soviir roared as she screamed, riding him until he became limp in her sex, and the two of them fell asleep in each other’s embrace.
When Minerva woke, she found Soviir standing by the entrance to his chamber. She collected her robes and covered herself, waiting for him to speak first.
“You’re awake.” Minerva almost laughed at how human such a statement was. Soviir continued, “I am going out, to fly over the lands that will be mine—ours—soon. I want you to come with me.”
Speaking of riding dragons, I’m not affiliated with these guys, but even if you’re not into this sort of thing, you have to admit they’re works of art.
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