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Hello, everyone. I'm back from the grave. I didn't realize that this website came back online! anyway, this is an older story that I wrote right after my previous story. So, it's not so good. I do want to promote though that I found this program that allows you to add punctuation and fix grammar mistakes automatically. Go grammarally! Amazing man.

Before then, this was all just a block of words. Anyway, I will ask, humbly, please leave a comment, let me know how it was and what can be improved? Both parts that were good and parts that needs improving. It's mostly just smut but if you read through it, you'll prove to be a true degenerate so add any missing tags I'm not aware of in the comments and I'll add them to the story. my next story may not be So 18+. Anyway, enjoy. I'm gonna stop rambling oh, but before I go, I do promise I'm not just into dragons. I do want to try different stories and styles. It just so happened that this was part of a binge ---

The book was a first-edition treatise on metallurgical advancements in the southern provinces, its pages slightly yellowed at the edges but otherwise impeccably preserved. Drakthar turned another leaf with careful precision, the tip of one claw just barely lifting the corner so as not to leave even the faintest mark. His tail curled around the stack of tomes beside him, their spines meticulously aligned—historical accounts, economic ledgers, even a few volumes of poetry, all arranged by subject and then by height. His cave wasn’t just a hollow in the mountain; it was a library, a treasury, a home. The scent of old parchment and warm stone filled the air, undisturbed for years.

Which was why the sudden, splintering crash of his reinforced oak door being kicked in was so profoundly irritating.

A woman stood in the ruined doorway, chest heaving, sword gleaming with what appeared to be freshly applied oil—a theatrical touch, Drakthar noted. Her armor was polished to an absurd degree, catching the glow of the cave’s enchanted lanterns like a stage prop. "Fiend!" she declared, voice ringing with the kind of rehearsed fervor usually reserved for bad theater. "Your reign of terror ends today!"

Drakthar blinked slowly, then closed his book with deliberate calm. He set it aside on the nearest stack, ensuring it was perfectly square with the edge. "Reign of terror," he repeated, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "You’ll have to be more specific. I pay my taxes quarterly."

"Liar!" she shrieked, swinging her sword in a wide arc that gouged a chunk out of his obsidian reading desk. "Dragons hoard gold through theft and slaughter—everyone knows that!" Her blade came down again, this time aimed at his foreleg. Drakthar sidestepped, but not fast enough; the edge bit into a scale, sending a sharp jolt up his limb. That was when the irritation crystallized into something colder. His tail lashed, knocking her off-balance, and before she could recover, he pinned her to the floor with one massive claw pressing between her shoulder blades. Her armor creaked ominously under the weight.

"You break into my home," he growled, "accuse me of crimes I didn’t commit, and now you’re damaging property I legally acquired through trade contracts." He leaned down, his breath hot enough to make her sweat. "Do you have any idea how much that desk cost? Ebony from the eastern forests, hand-carved by dwarven artisans. The invoice is in the third drawer." She writhed, spitting curses, but he only increased the pressure until her struggling turned to labored breaths. "You’re lucky I don’t incinerate you where you lie."

The authorities arrived within the hour—a pair of harried-looking bureaucrats from the municipal office, one clutching a truth-certified parchment, the other holding a quill like it might bite him. The spell they cast was quick and merciless: glowing runes coiled around the would-be hero’s throat, forcing her to admit she’d never once verified her accusations. That she’d simply wanted the glory of slaying a dragon. That she’d planned to keep most of the "stolen" gold for herself. Drakthar watched with detached amusement as her face turned scarlet.

"Defense of domicile," the first bureaucrat muttered, scribbling notes. "Full restitution rights to the aggrieved party." The second nodded, already stamping the form with the imperial seal. "Per Article Twelve of the Sentient Species Code, you may choose her fate, Lord Drakthar. Death, imprisonment, or indentured servitude until damages are repaid." They paused, waiting.

Drakthar considered the woman—now silent, her bravado replaced by something closer to dread. Killing her would be tedious paperwork. Imprisonment felt like a waste of resources. But the third option… His tail twitched. The way she’d strained against his grip, the heat of her body—there were other ways to repay a debt. "Servitude," he decided aloud. "until damages are deemed fully paid." The bureaucrats didn’t blink. One scrawled the terms, the other handed him a copy of the contract. "Pleasure doing business," they chorused before vanishing out the shattered door.

The bureaucrats’ footsteps hadn’t even faded before Drakthar’s claws hooked into the straps of the woman’s armor, peeling it away like the shell of an overcooked egg. She gasped—whether from indignation or the sudden chill of the cave air, he couldn’t tell—but the sound died when his tail coiled around her waist, lifting her effortlessly. "You’ll find," he mused, dragging her toward the rear chambers of the cave, "that I’m very particular about my property." The stone floor gave way to smoothed obsidian, heated from beneath by dormant magma veins. His sleeping area wasn’t so much a nest as a curated collection of furs, silks, and enchanted stones that radiated warmth. He dropped her onto the largest pile, a cascade of black fox pelts that swallowed her whole for a moment before she surfaced, sputtering.

Drakthar's claws clicked against a series of small ironwood drawers built into the cave wall, each labeled in neat, draconic script. He hummed—an unsettling sound, like boulders grinding together—as he rummaged through vials of powdered gemstones and stoppered flasks of murky liquids. The woman tried to inch backward into the furs, but his tail lashed out, pinning her ankle with effortless pressure. "Don't," he said, without even looking up. "You'll make me lose count."

She watched, throat dry, as he selected a handful of components: a twist of silver wire, a palm-sized lodestone, and what looked like a desiccated knot of roots. These he arranged on a low obsidian workbench, his claws moving with the precision of a jeweler. Magic sparked under his fingertips—literal sparks, blue-white and hissing—as he began weaving enchantments into the materials. "I take supplements," he remarked casually, as if discussing the weather. "For my rut. Powdered moonstone with a tincture of black lotus. Dulls the edge." The wire twisted itself into intricate loops under his guidance. "But the side effects are dreadful—lethargy, impaired cognition. Terrible for trade negotiations."

Her breath hitched as realization dawned. The lodestone pulsed, splitting into two identical halves that hovered midair. "Medical literature suggests alternatives," Drakthar continued, almost cheerfully. "Shared body heat, prolonged physical contact..." His amber eyes flicked to her, pupils slitting. "A mate. Though 'mate' implies reciprocity. You're more of a... utility."

The finished harness gleamed in his claws—a deceptively delicate-looking lattice of silver and stone, humming with trapped magic. He turned it slowly, admiring his work. "This will keep you hydrated. Fed. Your muscles from atrophying, and your body stretchy." His smile showed too many teeth. "And most importantly, secured."

She found her voice, ragged with disbelief. "You can't—"

"You can't—" she gasped, but Drakthar's claw pressed against her lips, silencing her with a single, effortless motion.

"Oh, but I can," he rumbled, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. His tail coiled around her thigh, pulling her closer until her back pressed against the heated obsidian floor. "And you will." The harness shimmered in his other claw, its silver strands alive with pulsating energy. "Your new occupation, little thief, is to be my personal toy. A living, breathing sheath for my cock whenever I desire it. Consider it... reparations."

The silver strands of the harness slithered over her skin like living vines, reacting to Drakthar’s sharp claw-snap with eerie precision. She twisted, trying to roll away, but the enchanted metal coiled around her wrists before she could even lift them—pulling her arms taut around his sides in a cruel parody of an embrace. Another strand looped around her ankles, yanking her legs apart with a jerk that left her gasping. "Stop—!" she managed, but the restraints tightened further, molding her body into the shape the dragon demanded: arched, open, utterly exposed.

Drakthar loomed over her, his massive frame blotting out the glow of the cave’s ambient magic. His underbelly scales were smoother than the rest, warm from the heated stone beneath them, and as he settled over her standing waiting for the harness to do the rest.

The silver strands hissed against her skin, tightening with each frantic twist of her body. She kicked out—uselessly—as the harness coiled around her thighs, forcing them apart before yanking her flush against Drakthar’s underbelly. The smooth, heated scales pressed into her bare stomach as the restraints locked her legs around his waist, her feet dangling just above the swell of his hindquarters. Her arms were next, cinched tight against his ribs in a mockery of an embrace, the enchanted metal leaving just enough slack for her to slide a few inches up or down. Not enough to escape. Just enough to accommodate.

Drakthar craned his neck, peering down at her with detached curiosity. She was flush against him now, her breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts against his scales. "P-please," she stammered, "you don’t have to—"

A claw tapped her lips. "Hush." The harness reacted instantly, a thin ribbon of silver darting up to wrap around her mouth, stifling her pleas into muffled whimpers. "Words are currency," he mused, tracing the line of her jaw with one talon. "And you’re bankrupt." With a flick, the remnants of her tunic—already shredded from the fight—peeled away like parchment, baring her chest and pussy to the cave’s humid air. She jerked against the restraints, but the harness only pulsed tighter in response, the metal warming against her skin as if alive.

Drakthar exhaled, a slow, satisfied rumble. The tip of his tail traced the curve of her hip, then dipped lower, teasing the cleft of her ass. She clenched, muscles straining, but the harness held her open, presented. His sheath was still smooth against her inner thighs, but even as she watched, the scaled slit began to stir—a faint ripple beneath the surface, then another, more pronounced.

Drakthar stretched his wings slightly, rolling his shoulders to settle her weight more securely against his underside. The harness shifted with him, adjusting its grip just enough to keep her snug but not painfully compressed. "You'll notice the accommodations are... generous," he remarked, watching her reflection in the towering obsidian mirror he'd positioned near his sleeping area. Her eyes darted to their entangled reflection—his massive, scaled form, her much smaller body pinned against him like a living ornament. "The enchantments ensure you won't cramp, chafe, or suffocate. I detest unnecessary mess."

"Efficiency," Drakthar said, tapping the glowing lodestone embedded in the harness’s central knot with a claw. The silver lattice pulsed, contracting just enough to make her gasp against her gag. "Waste conversion is paramount. Your body’s byproducts will be transmuted directly into sustaining mana—no unsightly puddles, no interruptions." His tailtip traced idle circles around her clamped thighs. "You’ll remain pristine. Except, of course, for my scent and seed." His nostrils flared as he inhaled the sharp tang of her fear-sweat mingling with the musk already seeping from his swollen sheath. "That stays. A reminder."

She made a strangled noise, hips jerking involuntarily as she felt his tip peeking to emerge from his slit touching her pussy with nowhere else to go. Drakthar chuckled, the vibration traveling through his chest and into her trapped body. "Ah. The supplements did wear off faster than anticipated, well, you'll find out the other perks of the harness shortly."

The harness contracted with a whisper of enchanted metal, cinching her pelvis forward until the soft give of her pussy lips pressed flush against Drakthar's sheath. The tip of his cock was already peeking through the scaled slit—just a blunt, tapered point at first, hot as forge-fresh iron against her trembling entrance. She clenched instinctively, thighs quivering with the effort to resist, but the harness redistributed her weight effortlessly, tilting her hips up at the perfect angle. The dragon's breath hitched, a deep, grinding sound like stone settling, as the first inch of his cockhead breached her.

Her muffled scream vibrated against the silver gag. Drakthar watched in the mirror as her back arched violently, her bound arms straining against the harness's unyielding grip. His cock pulsed, thickening inexorably as it stretched her open—slow, torturous increments that forced her body to adapt. She was so tight, the resistance of her inner walls fluttering around him like a trapped bird, but the harness ensured she couldn't pull away. Every twitch of her hips only drove him deeper.

From his vantage point, the sensation was exquisite. Her pussy was a molten vise, clenching in erratic bursts as she tried—and failed—to accommodate his girth. The drag of her silken walls against his ridges sent sparks of pleasure up his spine, and he indulged in a shallow, experimental thrust. Her legs spasmed, toes curling helplessly against his haunches as another inch sank into her.

For her, it was an onslaught. The initial stretch burned—a searing fullness that stole her breath—but worse was the relentless growth. Just as she thought she'd adjusted, his cock pushed further in, the bulbous ridges along its length catching against her inner folds with every microscopic shift. The harness vibrated faintly against her clit, a cruel mockery of stimulation that made her hips jerk uncontrollably, impaling herself further.

Drakthar's claws flexed against the obsidian floor, leaving faint score marks as he fought the urge to slam home. The mirror showed her perfectly: tears streaking her flushed cheeks, breasts heaving against his scales, her cunt stretched obscenely around the first two third of his length. He could see the way her stomach bulged slightly with his outline. A possessive growl rumbled through him, and he rolled his hips forward in a slow, deliberate grind.

Drakthar’s hind claws scraped against the obsidian as his knees nearly gave out, the sheer tightness of her around him sending jolts of pleasure so sharp his vision momentarily blurred. A low, shuddering growl escaped him—half-stunned, half-ravenous—as his cock throbbed violently inside her, each ridge catching against her clenching walls in a way that made his tail lash uncontrollably. "Fuck," he hissed, the word more breath than sound, his usual composure fraying at the edges. It had been decades—maybe centuries—since he’d last taken a mate, and his body reacted like a starved thing, hips twitching forward in aborted little thrusts that forced another inch deeper without mercy.

She felt it. The way her body yielded, the harness’s enchantments thrumming as they stretched her muscles, lubricated her passage, adapted her to him like clay under a potter’s hands. Her muffled cries pitched higher as his girth distended her further, the bulge in her belly more pronounced now, his outline visible beneath her skin. Drakthar couldn’t tear his eyes away from the mirror—the obscenity of it, the perfection—watching her puffy lips strain around his shaft, how her inner folds clung to him like they were trying to milk him already.

The moment his tip breached her cervix, Drakthar’s vision whited out—not from pain, but from the sheer, impossible heat of her womb clamping around him like a silk-gloved fist. She arched violently against the harness, her muffled scream dissolving into a broken, shuddering moan as her body betrayed her, convulsing around his invading length with desperate pleasure. The harness thrummed against her clit, amplifying every nerve-ending into a live wire, ensuring she felt every ridge, every pulsing vein as he bottomed out inside her. Her legs kicked uselessly against his flank, toes curling as her stomach visibly distended just above her navel, the outline of his cockhead pressing obscenely against her skin.

Drakthar’s hind legs trembled, claws gouging furrows into the stone as he fought to stay upright. Centuries of discipline evaporated under the raw sensation—her womb was a furnace, a velvet vise that milked him with each involuntary clench. "Gods—" he snarled, voice fracturing into a growl as his hips stuttered forward in shallow, jerking thrusts. He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t anticipated how her cervix would flutter around his tip like a second, tighter cunt, or how the harness would force her to take it , her body reshaping itself around him with wet, yielding compliance.

Drakthar exhaled a slow, smoke-tinged breath through his nostrils as the initial wave of pleasure subsided into something more controlled—more deliberate. His claws flexed against the obsidian floor, leaving fresh grooves in the polished stone. Beneath him, the woman trembled, her sweat-slicked skin gleaming in the ambient glow of the cave’s enchanted lanterns. The harness pulsed faintly, adjusting its grip just enough to allow her hips a fraction of movement—not freedom, never that—but enough to slide along his shaft when he chose to move.

Her muffled whimper vibrated against the silver gag as his cockhead slipped free of her womb with a wet, obscene pop. The sensation sent a shiver up his spine, the sudden absence of that clenching heat almost wrong, but the harness ensured she couldn’t retreat far. Her thighs strained against the enchanted bindings, her body suspended in a torturous limbo—stretched wide around him but no longer impaled to the hilt. Drakthar craned his neck, watching her reflection in the mirror with rapt attention.

"Ah," he rumbled, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. "There we are. Fully seated." His tailtip traced the curve of her hip, then dipped lower, teasing the stretched rim of her cunt where it hugged his shaft. "This is your world now, little thief. Every inch of my cock, every drop of my cum—yours to take until your debt is paid." He flexed his hips experimentally, grinning at the way her breath hitched as his ridges dragged against her oversensitive walls. "Well. Mine to give. But you’ll learn the difference soon enough."

Her climax hit like a collapsing mine shaft—sudden, crushing, utterly inescapable. The harness buzzed against her clit in ruthless synchronization with the way Drakthar’s cock flexed inside her, the ridges along his shaft catching every convulsing inch of her inner walls until her vision whited out. She couldn’t even scream properly, the silver gag muffling her into a strangled, wet gasp as her back arched violently against his scales. The dragon’s low chuckle vibrated through her chest, his tail coiling possessively around her thigh. "Already?" he purred, the tip of his cock nudging her cervix again just to feel her spasm. "And here I thought heroes had stamina."

Drakthar’s breath hitched—an almost imperceptible catch in his chest—as her pussy fluttered around him in aftershocks. The sensation was maddening, a hot, wet vise that pulsed rhythmically against his cock in a way that made his hind claws scrape against the obsidian floor. His own stamina, usually unshakable, wavered under the relentless grip of her body. "Fuck," he growled, the word more smoke than sound, his pupils slitting to thin, hungry lines as he stared down at her. She was a mess: tears streaking her flushed cheeks, saliva slicking the silver gag, her thighs trembling where they clamped around his waist. And yet—and yet—her cunt still milked him with every twitch, as if trying to coax out his climax like gold from a stubborn vein.

The harness reacted before he even gave the command, the silver strands loosening just enough to let her body slide up his shaft—not fully free, never that—but enough for the swollen tip of his cock to almost escape her stretched entrance. Her muffled whimper vibrated against his scales as she dangled there, impaled on the last few inches, her inner walls clinging desperately to keep him inside. Drakthar’s tail lashed, his control fraying at the edges. He *could* resist. He should. But the way her breath hitched when his ridges dragged against her oversensitive folds—

Enough.

The first thrust was slow—leisurely, almost lazy—as if Drakthar was savoring the initial drag of her slick walls against his cock. Her body jolted against the harness, her muffled cry vibrating through his scales as he pulled nearly all the way out, leaving just the swollen tip wedged inside her stretched entrance. For a heartbeat, she hung there, suspended in agonizing emptiness, before his hips rolled forward again, burying himself to the hilt with a single, devastating push.

Her womb yielded instantly this time, her cervix fluttering around his cockhead like a second, tighter cuckoo around him. Drakthar’s breath hissed through his teeth, the sensation electric , and he did it again—another slow, torturous withdrawal, another brutal slam forward. Her hips bounced helplessly with the force of it, the harness keeping her locked in perfect alignment as he set a rhythm that was less about speed and more about depth , each thrust bottoming out inside her with a wet, meaty slap of scales against flesh.

The noises were obscene. The squelch of her overstimulated cunt stretched around him, the choked whimpers she couldn’t swallow around the gag, the way his own breath roughened into growls as pleasure coiled tighter in his gut. Drakthar’s claws flexed against the obsidian floor, his wings twitching with the effort to stay balanced as his hips picked up speed, fucking into her with increasing urgency. The harness ensured she took every inch—no fighting it, no pulling away—just the relentless drag of his cock pistoning in and out of her abused hole, her body jostling against his underbelly like a ragdoll.

Drakthar’s rhythm fractured into something frantic, his hind claws scrambling for purchase as pleasure coiled like a noose around his spine. The realization hit him like a collapsing tunnel—this was why some dragons whispered about mammal flesh. The way her cunt clung to him, hot and silken, fluttering in erratic pulses as if trying to milk him dry. His hips pistoned harder, each thrust driving her body up his shaft only to let gravity slam her back down, her weight forcing him deeper than he’d thought possible. The obscene slap of her ass against his scaled belly echoed off the cave walls, mingling with her gagged whimpers and his own ragged growls.

Then— inspiration. With a snarl, Drakthar reared onto his hind legs, his foreclaws braced against the obsidian wall. The shift wrenched a muffled scream from her throat as her body slid abruptly into a seated position, her thighs splayed wide around his waist, her back pressed flush against the wall. Gravity became his accomplice, her own weight now impaling her relentlessly as he rutted upward, each thrust lifting her slightly before she fell onto him, her stretched cunt swallowing him to the root with a wet, squelching noise.

Her stomach bulged obscenely with each descent, the outline of his cock visible beneath her skin as her womb was speared open anew. Drakthar’s vision blurred at the edges, his claws gouging chunks from the wall as he watched her reflection—her head lolling, breasts bouncing with every savage plunge, her legs twitching helplessly in their silver bindings. The harness vibrated against her clit in time with his thrusts, ensuring her pleasure was as inescapable as her torment, her body wrung dry by climax after shuddering climax.

He was close. Too close. The pressure built like magma in his gut, his cock swelling further—ridges thickening, veins pulsing—until her pussy was stretched to the brink, accommodating only by the harness’s cruel enchantments. Drakthar’s roar shook the cave as his orgasm ripped through him, his hips snapping up one final time to bury himself to the hilt. His cock locked inside her with a visceral squelch, the hole penis flaring to seal her cervix around him like a cork. Her womb flooded instantly, each pulse of his climax pumping thick, scalding seed directly into her depths, her stomach rounding slightly with the sheer volume.

She convulsed against him, her muffled shriek vibrating through his scales as her body was overfilled , the harness mercilessly keeping her impaled as his cum painted her insides white. Drakthar shuddered, his tail lashing as he rode out the aftershocks, his cock still twitching inside her, still pumping , until her belly was taut and heavy with his claim.

Drakthar's jaw clamped shut with a click of fangs as the last few pulses of his climax wrung themselves out, his cock twitching deep inside her with each diminishing spurt. Smoke curled from his nostrils in uneven bursts, his wings trembling slightly before settling against his back. The cave air smelled of musk, molten stone, and the sharp tang of her sweat—heady, even for him. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered himself back onto all fours, his claws flexing against the obsidian as his breathing steadied.

The woman hung limp against his underside, her body jostling slightly with the movement, her thighs still spread wide around his waist by the harness. Her skin gleamed with sweat, her chest rising and falling in ragged, shallow breaths against his scales. Drakthar craned his neck to peer down at her, his slit-pupiled eyes narrowing as he took in her dazed expression, the way her eyelids fluttered as if fighting to stay conscious.

"Ah," he murmured, his voice roughened by smoke and exertion. "I may have... overindulged." His tail flicked, the spade-shaped tip brushing against her trembling calf almost absently. "Apologies. My season makes restraint... difficult." The admission was grudging, as if he wasn't entirely used to offering even that much consideration.

Her response was a muffled whimper against the silver gag, her hips twitching weakly—whether in protest or aftershock, he couldn't tell. Not that it mattered. Drakthar exhaled through his nostrils, watching as his cock finally softened just enough to relinquish its grip on her cervix, the swollen ridges along his shaft receding. The moment his tip slipped free of her womb, the floodgates opened—thick, viscous cum oozing around his length in lazy rivulets before dripping from her stretched entrance.

The harness pulsed, silver strands glowing faintly as each droplet vanished mid-air, dissolving into shimmering motes of mana before they could hit the floor. Efficient. Clean. Exactly as designed.

Drakthar took a deliberate step forward, his claws clicking against the obsidian floor—then another, his movements slow but purposeful as he began heading toward the shattered entrance of his lair. The woman jostled against his underside with each stride, her breath hitching as the motion forced his still-hard cock to shift inside her, the swollen ridges dragging against her oversensitive walls. He ignored her muffled whimper, focusing instead on the cracked stone archway ahead. "I had intended," he mused, smoke curling from his nostrils, "to ease you into your duties. A gradual introduction. Perhaps start with your mouth." Another step, another shallow thrust as his gait pushed him deeper into her. "But you did try to kill me."

The harness adjusted with a whisper of enchanted metal, tilting her hips to better accommodate his movements as he walked. Her thighs trembled against his flanks, her body still fluttering around him in sporadic aftershocks. Drakthar exhaled through his nose, the heat of his breath stirring the dust motes swirling in the dim light. "Prejudice," he continued, almost conversationally, as he nudged a broken door hinge with his claw, "is such a tedious thing. You saw scales, assumed villainy. Never considered that I might pay for what I own." He bent to examine the splintered wood, his motion causing her to slide fractionally down his shaft—only for the next step to slam her back onto him with a wet squelch.

She jerked in the harness, a strangled noise escaping the gag. Drakthar chuckled, the sound vibrating through her where their bodies met. "Ah. You feel that? The way your cunt clings?" He flexed his hips slightly, relishing the answering spasm around his cock even as he shutters from his own, sensitivity. "That’s your body learning. Adapting." He straightened, rolling his shoulders as he surveyed the damage. "Punishment isn’t just about pain, little thief. It’s about correction. And you?" Another step. Another brutal, unintended thrust. "You have much to learn."

The fading light painted the cave entrance in molten gold as Drakthar paused, his tail flicking idly against the scattered debris. "Door's ruined," he mused, claws tapping the splintered wood. "Tomorrow's problem." His hips shifted slightly—just enough to make her gasp around the gag as his cock dragged against her oversensitive walls. "We'll walk to the lumber mill at dawn. You'll ride the whole way, of course."

She barely registered the words, her vision still swimming from the aftershocks of relentless pleasure-pain. Her thighs twitched against his scaled flanks, the harness' enchantments thrumming as they kept her impaled, her body adjusting to the impossible stretch. Drakthar chuckled, the sound vibrating through her chest where it was pressed against his underbelly. "Ah. Forgot to mention—" He took a deliberate step forward, grinning when the motion forced his shaft deeper, her muffled whimper music to his ears. "Dragon cocks don't soften. Not unless we will it." Another step, another brutal nudge against her cervix. "And I'm in season."

Her stomach dropped. The implications slithered through her dazed mind—no reprieve, no moment where she wouldn't be stretched around him, filled to the brim. The harness pulsed, adjusting her angle as Drakthar ambled toward the inner chambers, his gait ensuring every step rocked her on his length. Her toes curled helplessly against his flank, her nails scraping his scales as another unwanted ripple of pleasure coiled in her gut.

How long will she have to fill this new role? And what will tomorrow bring? She really should have double check your information before attacking the dragon. Tune in next time for this mess.