My Beautiful Daughter
A dragon decides his underage daughter is ready for motherhood on the very first day of her fertility.
I actually lost the draft for the Testament of Queens part 3. Yeah, go me. I have to re-write the whole thing eventually. So in its place, for now, here's a more... traditionally English rendition of my favorite kind of dragon mating scene, since I felt a craving for one and I couldn't quite find enough stories like it. It'll have to do for now.
I had waited so long for this moment.
Eleven cycles it had been, since I watched my daughter break from the eggshell. Eleven cycles of watching her flourish and grow into the purest, most spirited little dragonet that ever lived. She had her mother's scales, icicle-white with sapphire traces across her back and on the underside of her wings. Her motions had grown so dignified and majestic even in her youth, and she became a celestial wonder whenever she spread her wings and drifted upon the wind. She had my eyes, and my intelligence; such a curious little female she was, so observant and clever, that she was already two cycles beyond her training-mates.
I had watched her, often by her mother's side, as she would scamper through the meadow to practice her pounce or draw equations and stories upon the scrolls we had given her. So proud, we were, of this life we had created together... so satisfied with our family.
And finally, after eleven long cycles, she had reached fertility.
I was the first to notice, of course; I could not ignore that distinctive scent, especially after I had spent her entire life in eager anticipation. My daughter did not know that I intended to make use of that fertility the moment it became available. After all, it was not considered proper by the tribe for a dragoness to engage in physical courtship until fifteen cycles of age. But who was the tribe to decide how I could show love to my own daughter? They had no right; she was a flawless, angelic little dragoness whom nature had deemed ready for motherhood, and I loved her completely and entirely, and no dragon would stop me from demonstrating my love to her.
On that day, the moment she had reached adolescence, I sat by her mother's side and watched her play in her childish ways, and informed her mother that it was time. She was surprised, but she giggled adorably to me, reminding me of the day so many decades ago when I had taken her own virginity and bred her. She flicked her tongue at my shoulder and leaned into my warmth, saying to me, "Oh, how impatient you are, great one." I told her it was not my fault. My daughter's beauty had made me impatient, the sleek flow of her muscles and the seductive motions of her petit haunches as she would prance across the meadow. And now, knowing that I could create eggs inside of her, she became irresistible to me, and I could barely contain my arousal whenever I would lay my eyes on her. I thought of nothing more than to have her. But I already had her; she was my daughter, and she belonged to me.
Together, we bathed her thoroughly. It was the last bath she would take as a virgin, I remember how she cooed and wiggled in the stream as we graced her scales with our tongues, removing every blemish and trace of the meadow she had collected from her playtime. I knew she would soon be writhing for a different reason altogether. And when she did, I wanted to see her glow with perfection in the starlight, her sliver scales glitter in the beams from the crescent moon. I held her close to me, stroking and petting her young scales, all still so soft and silken, and so warm. I could not help but to imagine her young form wriggling beneath my weight as I would express my love to her, and my arousal grew to be unbearable. I could simply not keep my claws off of her; touched her curves and caressed her belly, I gently stroked her back and the base of her tail, and I watched as she smiled happily at all the intimate attention she received.
At least, I deemed her clean enough, and her mother spoke to her, telling her to follow me to the mountains and to do whatever I would tell her. She responded with her childly innocence, and they shared an embrace. (An ironic one, for certain, for I knew the next time they would meet, they would share something in common). Then I promptly led her off to a faraway place where we could be alone together, father and daughter, a place I deemed romantic: a gentle knoll high upon a mountain cliff, a place where I could see her in full moonlight, and she could lay in the comfort of the smooth grass.
And oh, she was stunning! I watched as she touched down upon the ledge and fluttered her wings to a close, her form washed in crystal moonlight, glowing with her innocent beauty. She looked at me with those intelligent blue eyes, and came to rest next to me, where we spent an hour speaking about life and her studies. She wanted to fly away and be an explorer, studying rocks and bugs and wildlife across the continent. I chuckled, humoring her for the moment; they were very adorable desires for such a young dragoness, but my desires outweighed hers, my wisdom held precedence.
At last, when I could not hold my desire any longer, I said to her, "I love you, my precious white angel. I say to thee: it is time that you became a mother."
She was confused, and replied to me, "Oh, father, I do not understand what you mean. It is against customs to have relations with a male just yet; I am too young, and will not be ready to chase a male for another four cycles."
I held her closely, petting her heavily down her back, and I said, "Nature has deemed you worthy to be a mother, and so I say that you are ready to be a mother." I licked her from the shoulders to the back of her neck, as though savoring the taste of prey before I would devour it, and I said, "You misunderstand, my dearest; it is I who shall make you a mother. For you have captured my heart, roused my love with your precious figure, and I can no longer abstain from the thought of savoring you. I love you with all my heart and soul, and tonight I shall prove it to you."
She gave me the most adorable look of confusion, a hesitant shudder rippled through her. She asked me, "But I do not want to be a mother." I replied: "Oh, little one, it is not for you to decide! As I said, nature has decided for you, that you are ready to bear eggs for a male, and who else should have you but I, the one who loves you more than any other? I have watched you grow since your hatching, and I have lusted for you for this decade, and you have no right now to deny me what I have waited so long to feel."
I clutched her closely, feeling her begin trembling reluctantly. I lavished her with my tongue, letting my claws explore across her soft and pure form, caressing the belly that would soon be overburdened with my eggs, and fondling her delightful little haunches, rippling with her petit strength, that would soon accommodate my girth. She released a whine and tried to wriggle free from my grasp, but I held her closely and showered her with my affections. "I love you so much," I said to her again. "I love the shape of your body, I love the silken curves of your scales... I love your songlike voice. You are so beautiful to me, so precious... I cannot wait any longer, for you have roused my male desire so deeply." And though I complemented my angelic daughter endlessly, she grew uncomfortable and tried to squirm away from my touch. She was torn between something new and unfamiliar, and the wise words of advice given by her mother, that she was to do what I told her.
I knew that no matter how she would protest, I would love her the same regardless. I had learned a very long time ago that there was no real difference between paternal love and lust; both were designed by nature to bring bodies close together and to cultivate life, and I was only doing what was natural and right as her father, sharing the deepest form of my love and affection with her.
When she began to moan in anticipation, I forcefully rolled my daughter onto her back and stood above her, letting the length of my sacred lifegiver hang above her belly for her to see. The sight frightened her, but I pinned her down by her limbs, all four of them, and she could not struggle hard enough to overcome my weight. I ravished her more, tasting her chest and her shoulders, until my mouth aligned with hers and I gave her a deep and forceful kiss, letting my tongue fly free within her maw and tangle around her own. This stunned her, and her forceful protests stopped for a moment, but they resumed as soon as I began to suckle on her, drawing her saliva into my own mouth to savor its taste. She began thrashing quite hard, her belly and haunches brushing up against mine, gliding against the front of my lifegiver. Her struggles were so adorable and so sweet to me, and I did not want them to end; I loved feeling her pressing against my weight, feeling those supple scales stimulating me.
I then began to remove her jewels and adornments; she liked to wear bracelets and necklaces, and even some armor shards to cover her feminine beauties, but custom dictated that dragons must mate wearing nothing; mating is an embrace of our most animalistic needs, a moment where we regress to our basic natures and indulge in them, and we are to discard everything which would separate us from our purest forms. During mating, the creation of eggs, we were to wear nothing but what we wore when we ourselves hatched from our own eggs.
So I plucked her adornments; their golden wires gave way easily to my maw, and I tossed them to the side, letting them vanish over the edge of the cliff. At last, I came to her armor shard, which covered the entrance to her womb. I eased it away, and the metal separated so easily, revealing my beautiful daughter in her most pure and virgin form, the form she had shown to me on the occasion of her bathing. I crumpled it and threw it away. What use did she have of it? Why should my daughter hide her beauty from the world? She certainly would no longer hide it from me, I was certain of that. She would remain naked for the remainder of her life, I would make sure. It was silly for dragons to wear things anyway.
I glanced down at her pure, prone form. It was finally mine; I had finally claimed what I rightfully owned. She stared up at me, gasping, already growing tired of fighting me. My clutch upon her limbs was perfect; there was no throwing me off, not when I was so close to finally savoring her beauty. Her eyes wondered about me, fearing me, asking me why I betrayed her. But it was not a betrayal; it was love, pure and simple. It was an honor, a complement of the highest order, that a male would find her so seductive and alluring as to share his seed with her. She would soon understand.
I hummed proudly as I lowered my haunch close to hers, and I began to ease my way inside of her virgin womb. When only the tip was inside, such exquisite sensations flooded through me, the likes of which I had never felt from any other dragoness as long as I had lived. She helped stimulate me, as she began to thrash and fight with renewed strength as I pressed forward. A clear and beautiful wail escaped her throat as I gently and gracefully ruptured her virginhood.
"Father, stop!" she begged of me. "Please, stop..."
"I cannot stop, my dearest, not when you feel so very good," I said, and I gently tickled her face with my tongue, lapping at the tears forming around her eyes.
"Oh, I love you so much," I said, calming her with my voice, moving deeper inside of her. "I love everything about you, my white angel. I love the way you feel, I love the way you move against me, so young and sweet, so warm, so accommodating. You shall make such a beautiful mother."
She cried, "I cannot be a mother! How should I raise children when I am only a child myself! I have not even passed my training yet, I know nothing about the world!" and she tried to avoid my tongue as I continued to lap at her tears. I told her, "Oh, my daughter, I am certain you will make a fine mother. It is the role of all females to become mothers. Of course, you will have no more time to spend on your training, so you will be withdrawn from training. You will spend all of your time caring for your young, so I am certain you will learn your role very quickly, just as you have learned everything else."
And I imagined her, surrounded by her tiny little dragonets in the field beneath the shade of a tree, talking to them and teaching them everything she knew, and I gloated over this conquest of mine. It was tradition, after all, that a mother would raise her young alone, and the father would have no part in the raising of the young except to defend his territory. But it did not matter to me what became of her children; perhaps some would die or run away due to her ineptitude, but that was only the natural way of life, that those who survived childhood would be the strongest. My role in her life was nothing more than to use her perfect young body for my pleasure, precisely the way nature intended such a sweet female body to be used. Releasing my seed into her, from the kindness of my heart, was all that mattered, and nature would take whatever course it wanted from there.
But I had a feeling that she would be fine. She was two years ahead of her peers in learning, and she did not need to complete her training anyway. Her mind was just as beautiful as her scales; I knew it would serve her well, just the way it was.
She still wailed and squirmed beneath me once I had taken her to the hilt, but I knew she would not last much longer. Virgin females were always very feisty, always wanting to fly away and do as they please. The young ones still entertained too many dreams of independence and carefree adventures; they did not yet understand their place. It often took a night of a male's love for them to fall submissive. The feel of a male's lifegiver as it would thrust within them, widening their feminine beauties from within, was often enough to make them realize their true role in life. A forceful breeding would stick with a female for life, sapping them of their frivolous hopes and dreams. It would inspire them to become happy and complacent, content with raising their young and obeying their males. That is why I needed to breed my angel forcefully. In my love, I allowed her to hurt, knowing it would give her a healthy mindset for the rest of her life.
Indeed, as I began my rhythmic thrusts into the depths of her petit womb, her energy left her and she fell limp, helpless to defy me, helpless to do anything but offer me the pleasure of her young body. I shifted to lay down beside her, cradling her back against my belly, and entered her again. For two hours, she felt the full force of her loving father, gliding in and out of her, and my force only increased as my desire mounted in intensity. I savored her body, feeling her wriggling curves with my claws. I touched her belly, feeling the ripple of my own lifegiver moving deeply within her. My daughter crooned and cried and protested with all the vigor of a crippled bird, and I loved her for it. I loved the way she kept trying to squirm away, even as the last of her strength left her. I loved how she would move her lower legs and try to deny me entry into her womb, hoping that she could evade the loving release of my seed. I always just pulled her back and held her close, petting her tenderly and telling her it was all going to be okay. Nature gave urges to dragons for a reason, and it was proper and natural to fulfill our urges. My lust would soon be appeased, and then everything would be okay.
I came for my daughter, bestowing into her my holiest, most precious gift. My body moved against hers so passionately as my desire climaxed, and I could not stifle my euphoric roars. How lucky I was to have such a pure and sweet daughter. How enticing she was, how attractive, how perfect for motherhood. How perfectly she fit around my body as I held her close, stimulating me with her precious motions. I sank my teeth into her shoulder as my knot grew swollen, sealing my daughter against me for the remainder of the night. I would no longer need to hold her so tightly; my knot would keep her there on its own. Even her droplets of blood tasted sublime, like the startled groundhogs I would always hunt in the spring, my favorite prey. She reciprocated my love with a long and sweet song from the depths of her throat, and the last of her fight left her. She fell limp against me, her strength spent.
At last, I had broken her, completely and fully. Her rite of passage was complete. Tears streamed from her closed eyes as she sobbed endlessly, contracting her womb around my swollen knot. The free-spirited dragon within her had died, replaced with a properly submissive blood-mare, a sense of helplessness that would one day make her the perfect mother for my next generation of sons and daughters. I smiled at her.
"I love you," I whispered to her at last, after she had cried herself to sleep. I cradled her close, remaining inside of her for the remainder of the night, ensuring none of my precious seed would escape from her.
...
The following morning, I returned my white angel to her mother's care.
"How was she?" she had asked.
I licked her playfully on the forehead and said to her, "She was exquisite. Just as you were, my beautiful daughter."