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Temeraire: Bound Bon Voyage

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Dragcoin

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Part two of three

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Temeraire was far from a willing dragon sail, at least at the beginning. He begged the crew, even as the sailors climbed all over him, treating him as part of the mast, the sail itself, but they ignored him as if his cries were nothing more than the calling of gulls. He was nothing to them, but the ropes constantly yanked the dragon from one position into another, twisted back and forth, his body aching more and more.

Of course, Temeraire was not allowed to move freely, which restricted him and his muscles set to ache, even if it was something that had been done with many more dragons than he could ever have realised. They knew how to hold him just so, even when the ship was at rest, so that his muscles would not atrophy. There would be some pain and atrophy, undoubtedly, but the force of the wind against his wings would still force him, however little, to ease his muscles, bracing and forming a new use for himself and his body as the dragon sail.

They bound his cock too, when they needed to adjust their course, ropes lashing it so that they could more easily tug him back and forth, though the crew was not averse to handling his dick too while they changed the angle of his body and wings. One day was not enough for Temeraire to become used to such treatment, begging for release, even as he was fed and watered, though the dragon did not have the strength to deny food and water. He needed it, needed to survive, though he still could not accept his new place in the world.

However, the crew were quick to take advantage of him during that first day, tired and boring of their duties, coming off shift in the late afternoon.

Temeraire glanced at the crew member with some trepidation, though his mouth was too dry, even then, to beg for mercy. He tried, croaking out his needs, but the men clustered around him, closer and closer, boisterously grabbing at his dick, which twitched with raw need in their hands. He hissed through his teeth as the ropes were removed from his shaft, though it was only the prelude to something more.

“Get him, lads!"

“Make him cum!"

Temeraire shuddered, yet his feeble twisting and wriggling did not do him any good. All the dragon could do was look on in horror as his cock was grabbed and manhandled, heaving, grunting, trying to swallow the pleasure. It should not belong there, did not need to be there, though it was not something he could control, not as his cock was forced to drool, body driven into responding, one way or the other.

“No… No, please…"

He was tired, so tired, yet he would learn, soon, how to sleep while in that kind of bondage, even as his cock twitched and drooled. He wanted to do more, to pull away and to thrust into their hold at the same time, but that was thankfully taken away from him.

The crew shouted and jeered, though they were just daring each other to be bolder, not having had a dragon on deck to toy with for a good, long time. It was more entertaining for them to work off the toils of labouring all day up in the rigging by abusing his body and his cock, though nothing they did to Temeraire could cause harm. On the other hand, it would leave him wanting more, the tightness around the base of his cock from his harness and bondage making him want to cum repeatedly, even though every orgasm would be unsatisfactory to him. Craving it and wanting a different kind of release, went hand in hand.

His cock throbbed and Temeraire groaned as climax took him, orgasm spurting out over the deck, his cock jerking and twitching within the hands of more than one crew member. They laughed and cheered, though that was not the end of it, as they shoved a rudimentary sex toy, something wooden, big enough to cover his cock, that was filled with soft material, maybe something that had once been used as bedding? Temeraire had no knowledge of that, not as they amused themselves by forcing him to get off again in quick succession, not caring for his whispered, dry-throated pleas to be allowed to rest, to be given mercy, despite how he was being.

In all truth, it was only the beginning for him, for there was so much more to come for Temeraire.

They soon got into a rhythm with their use and abuse of Temeraire, for, of course, crewmates could not make use of him and his cock while they were on duty. Whenever a shift changed, which happened at the beginning at the end of the day, they made use of him and his body, sometimes leaving the ropes attached to his cock as they roughly pumped his dick, though it was merely in an act of debasement and use. In a sense, as he was a dragon and not a human, there was nothing sexual about it for the men using him, for, to them, he was merely an object, a source of amusement that they could toy with, at least for a while.

Laurence watched as Temeraire found his voice and screamed, desperate for relief and to be allowed to rest, though he only saw the scene playing out before him through the eyes of amusement. How funny that a dragon could still protest their treatment! He had been assured, however, that Temeraire was compliant enough for the voyage and made a note mentally to speak to the trainers back at Loch Lagan as they had not done enough there. If he was to break free, that would be an issue. However, he trusted in the bondage and the rigging, the dragon's weakening body and resolve.

The sailors could not move their sex toy, probably made between them, back and forth too easily with just their hands, for a dragon's dick was a rather large object for them to handle between even them. But they had other ways to masturbate him on their shift changes, learning, as the days passed, that they could use a rigging of ropes to swing it back and forth on his cock, with at least two of them on either side. It was as if they were swinging a ram at a fortress door to batter it down, only the device never smacked into Temeraire's crotch, not as they used their skill and diligence to masturbate him. Even then, they could not harm a dragon, not when there was so much of value in them to human beings, especially a Celestial from China.

Temeraire groaned and twisted back and forth before Laurence's eyes, his master more curious than anything else about what was going on, as he did not make a game out of pleasuring or humiliating his dragon. No, Temeraire was cattle, a weapon, a means of transport – at least to him. But others saw dragons in other ways, which was especially notable in how he had never considered using a dragon as a sail before. Truly, it was innovative and he made a note mentally to consider more like that, to be progressive in a dragon's use.

Laurence even set up a seat on the deck from an old barrel that no longer had a current use, watching the show, the crew amusing themselves again and again by making him shoot his load. The dragon twisted and tried to buck his hips, but whether they used their hands, old rags or the masturbator to get him off, they always had him under their control.

“Hey, lads!" One man shouted up to the crew that was working the other shift, dangling from the rigging. “Bet you two coppers you can't get a shot like that across the deck!"

He stood back proudly, pointing at the load he'd had a part in getting Temeraire to unload, the dragon heaving and panting, massive lungs expanding fully with every breath. The others, still working, jeered and shouted crudities back – the details did not matter – but, just like that, a competition was born.

After all, where was the fun in everything, if they could not take their amusement between each other too. Using their hands to make him shoot cum and hit targets was fun for a while – but far more entertaining still when they were able to put a competition between themselves and the other crew on duty into play!

They had different targets for the competitions played out amongst themselves, Temeraire an unwilling participant in everything, though he only begged for a little while every time they started up. He knew he wouldn't be listened to, even though they did look after him, making sure that he was fed and watered, even given extra water throughout the sessions. That was something, at least, even if it was a small something, something that Temeraire was unsure whether there was any point in being grateful for or not.

He could only take the little things, day by day, shift by shift, panting, grunting, his cock throbbing, too sensitive to be pushed as far as he was. Yet they did it anyway.

The second shift, one afternoon, set up a line of targets with red patches in the middle for him to hit, though they rotated him back and forth using his cock as a handle, jacking him off, trying to judge how far his spurts would go. Sometimes, when they forced him to cum, he was able to hit two targets at once, though that took a very skilled dragon handler (or so the crew considered themselves to be, even if they were just amusing themselves with Temeraire) to hit more than one in one go. It was not easy to rotate Temeraire when his wings were raised, after all, so just one man moving him from one side to the other with a slippery, pulsing cock ejaculating in his hands was a steep feat indeed.

Yet one orgasm and target hit was never the end of it as, in the afternoon, the later rays of sunshine glowed on his scales, highlighting reflections in the black of his hide, salt crystals forming where they were unable to wash him off with fresh water. Of course, Temeraire was left out in the elements day and night while they took their use of him, for he was just a sail and the comfort of a sail was not something to be considered. He licked his lips, shaking softly, even though he did not try to shrink away anymore, not as he fixed his eyes on the sunset, how it lowered itself, more and more, towards the distant horizon. The horizon was always distant, yet he liked the constancy of it.

“That's ten!" One of the crew crowed, though Temeraire didn't care to differentiate one from the other, not usually: if he recognised anyone, it was because they had taken a particular interest in him. “Beat that, boys!"

“You couldn't hit a target properly if it was as broad as the side of a barn door, lad," another said, though Temeraire knew who he was, big and burly, one who had made him cum so many times over that the deck had been awash in the dragon's cum one night. “Let me show you how it's done…"

Temeraire groaned as his cock was taken in hand, head swimming, not wanting to think about it, but his body had to respond even though his mind pulled away from the moment. He had to consider it, had to feel every throb, every pulse of his cock. Yet the man taking soft rags to his cock, which were, thankfully, clean and not salt-crusted like some that they had used (among the worse, cum-crusted, ones) smirked and winked, as if he held a secret. If Temeraire had had a better mind with which to think for himself and had not fallen so far, even then, into his training, he would have wondered what it was that the man had up his sleeve.

And yet that all became clear when, for the first time, bar when they were adjusting its position within him for pure health reasons, the dildo started to thrust. He heaved and groaned, straining once more against his bonds, wings taut, everything strained. Yet he could put as much fight into it as he wanted, the dildo kicked up into gear, one of the guy's friends controlling it from below deck. Of course, they didn't know what kind of anal penetration would make the dragon spill his load the quickest or the strongest, so they went all out.

Temeraire bellowed and grunted with as much breath as he felt he had left in his lungs, tail wanting to whip back and forth, feeling the restriction of his bondage more and more. The leather had shrunk a little, sprayed with seawater and then dried, repeatedly, tighter, cutting into his scales without harming his body. Yet it made it more restrictive in a way that his kinky mind loved even though he thought that he should not be enjoying it, not at all anywhere near as much as he was.

The body and the mind did not always go together, but maybe that was part of the beauty of bondage, of forced submission. He didn't have to actively go along with it for it all to simply happen to him, thrust after thrust, the dildo powering into him via the mechanical crank, slamming deeper and deeper. It must have been attached to a wheel or something that powered the crank, grinding it up to the fullest depth every time, for it could not be adjusted in that way without the full platform that it was attached to being moved. Yet that only ensured that it fully slammed into his tail hole, again and again, forcing him to cum with a roar, dimly impressed that he had such a load with him.

The crew cheered as, without even trying, the rags on his cock and the thick, forcible sex toy in his tail hole forced him over the edge, spraying a vibrant jet of dragon seed across the deck – all the way to the furthest target! No one at all had hit that one yet and that was solely something that opened up a whole new kind of game for them, no one knowing, not before the man who had cunningly observed how the dildo kept the drake locked in place, forced to comply, and used it to his advantage.

The dildo could not only thrust, but also be rotated around to stimulate the dragon even more -though they had already worked that such anal thrusts and penetration forced him to cum harder than ever before. That was their game in getting the most range out of his ejaculations, working him to orgasm, repeatedly, rotating the dildo back and forth so that they could put the most pressure on his prostate. Of course, for them, it was a guessing game in that regard, but they could still try, could still use his body, could still force him through, over and over, grunting and groaning, his tongue hanging out as delirious lust overcame him.

Even then, as he dimly was aware of cum leaving him, his need greater than ever, Temeraire wanted more. His body simply ached for it, as if he had not had a single orgasm at all, panting and snarling, no more than a beast, the cattle that they had considered him as right from the very beginning. He tried to lick his lips, tried to bring some manner of moisture back to his mouth, yet his cock was already being jacked off by two men before his eyes, two that were claiming that they could hit three targets at once.

“Get the dildo in faster! Harder! Come on, lads!"

They shouted down to those working with them below deck, sending the dildo hammering into him with a short, sharp driving pound. Somehow, they had rigged it (Temeraire could not have honestly said much about that side of things, never having seen the device for himself) so that it stayed deeper, only pulling back by a quarter of its length before driving back in again, assuming maximum penetration at all times.

He shuddered, scales prickling with sensation, need coursing through him, grunting, panting, his jaws hanging open. His pupils dilated, as if there was no longer any kind of an intelligent mind behind it, clouds gathering in the background, his only indication of how much time was passing. Again, his body surged under the stimulation, his backside so tight, trying to grab at the faux-cock and drag it deeper. At least, that was what it felt like to him, how his muscles closed around it, clenching, pulling, even managing to ripple. Yet Temeraire was not in control of that part of his body either as he was stimulated, merely trying to get by, trying to understand everything that was happening to him through the eyes of lust.

Perhaps… Perhaps that was all there was for him. Perhaps there had never been any point in him fighting to begin with. If he'd just given in to it, the thrust and grind of the dildo, the pressure of hands and other things too on his cock, he wouldn't have ever had to fight as hard as he had been. Maybe there had never been any point in fighting. But how was Temeraire to know that? Maybe it was not for him to know.

He roared and bellowed, raspy and breathless, through climax after climax until night fell and they were chased down to the galley for food, the captain eating with his crewmates in an act of solidarity, Temeraire left with his cock hard, dripping, need still coursing with him. Of course, they had forgotten to actually turn off the mechanism of the dildo, set so that it would simply continue at the same pace and rhythm, nothing changing.

Grunting, Temeraire moaned, nose hanging down to his chest, straining as his tail hole ached. Without thinking, for he no longer needed to think, he clenched around it, squeezing, wanting more, though no number of orgasms would, in one way or another, make him feel as if he had finally reached that peak, that he could be satisfied sexually. No, that was not what his training had indoctrinated into him, locking in a hunger for sex, for orgasms, to do anything to please. It only took a longer stint in bondage, such as Temeraire being used as a dragon sail, for some dragons to really let the training sink in.

Out at sea, with the dildo pounding his anal ring, slamming in hard and fast, spending his cream over the deck until it was a lewd, sloppy, messy, there was nothing else for Temeraire to focus on. only his use, his debasement, his objectification. In time, he might even come to see himself solely as an object too.

One morning, Temeraire thought that he'd gotten away without anything happening to him, the men boring a little of competing against one another and merely masturbating him with other things, anything they could really find. From the hats of the other crewmates to rags (those had been used before), to slimy kelp that they had dragged up from their fishing nets, the men had been toying back and forth with him, testing to see just what they could do.

But he was not left alone and he groaned in the morning rays of light, one of the crewmates, a small, lean man, approaching with a wicked grin.

“No one here but you and me," he laughed softly, though there was a cruel glint to his eye. “But why don't I wake the whole lot of them up with a real dragon scream? Got a right pair of lungs on yah for a sail, heh…"

The man chuckled, but Temeraire only groaned, hanging in his bonds. The arms of his wings burned more than usual, as if they had been strained to their limits, yet he was sure, in a sense, that the ache would fade, again, in time.

“Oh, please… Not again… Not today," he moaned, though his cock remained out and hard, his body forced to comply against his will. “Please… No one else is interested, please leave me alone, I won't be any bother to you…"

But the man ignored him, of course, as if he had not spoken at all. A sail, after all, did not talk and that did not matter to the man.

He took his time with Temeraire, jacking off his cock with one hand and then both, using a rag that seemed to have been soaked in something. Temeraire shuddered, but the slimy, wet sensation was not unpleasant, adding a bit more lubrication even as he tried to get the man to leave him alone. He was a little bolder when it came to things like that when it was just one of them, against the whole lot of them.

“No… Please… Please, stop, this is…unff…ridiculous…. Agghhh!"

But Temeraire could not help moaning, his cock prickling and tingling, though it felt warm rather than cool, as if all the blood in his body was rushing to it without him even knowing. The man chuckled, wiping more of the slick stuff on him, his cock faintly green with the viscous fluid.

“Ah, sea serpent eggs," he said. “Infertile… Damn, John sure gave me a good tip there."

Temeraire did not know that infertile sea serpent eggs, the ones that they laid to protect the fertilised ones in the centre of the clutch, were an aphrodisiac, said to drive dragons mad with lust. Yet he could not do anything, not as the direct contact with them oozed into his skin, absorbed like a lotion, heaving and grunting, striving to thrust wildly. He was a wild beast, no more, dull and panting, tongue lolling out, needing it, yes! Yes, oh, how he needed it, needed the pleasure, needing to cum as if the desire was a burning need that was going to sear straight through his scales, from the inside out, if he did not take care of it. But that was not up to him.

Yet he was not a breeding stud of a dragon but a bound slut on show for the crew to use, an object to direct the ship and to ensure their safe passage on their voyage. He could not help himself as the aphrodisiac took hold, shuddering and ejaculating, too quickly, with a roar that sent a rippling wave of air across the ship, waves curling up, almost as if he had unleashed the Divine Wind. It was more than enough to rock the boat wildly back and forth, his tormentor laughing, dropping his cock and the rag and covering his ears, though his wide grin told Temeraire that he had done the job that he was supposed to.

As Temeraire hung there, panting, the rest of the crew grumbling up on deck, the captain paced up to the dragon deck with Laurence, shaking his head at the dragon.

“There is quite a rivalry between shifts," he commented, as Laurence raised an eyebrow. “I feel they have taken quite a liking to your dragon. They want to make him cum, to ring a bell, though I had thought that the targets would have been quite the ticket for morale… Would you allow us to use your dragon for a formal competition?"

Of course, Laurence wasn't going to say no to that – it was not as if anyone could have minded being milked of their seed, though he smirked only inwardly. The dragon had it good, he told himself, though surely the drake did not have the mind to truly appreciate the position he was being put in. It was as if to Laurence as if Temeraire had never objected to his treatment at all, as if he had never, not even once, cried out for mercy.

While he discussed the competition and how it would play out with the captain, Temeraire's body was made use of again, all for a bit of early morning morale boosting. They chuckled and forced him to come again, finding his tongue now that the sea serpent eggs, the slimy goo of them, had been removed, though his arousal was still there.

“No… Please! It's too much! Ahhhh!"

He howled and bucked, but hardly moved at all, begging them to leave him alone. Laurence barely cast him a look and, if he had, it would have been more in amusement that the dragon was speaking at all than anything else.

“No… Nooooo!"

Temeraire howled as he climaxed again, losing track of everything, but it only served to make the captain and Laurence raise their voices as the dragon, so rudely, tried to take centre-stage. It was normal, of course, to see him thrashing and begging for mercy, yet the words were not ones that even registered with them.

A contest, however, would be excellent for the men!