The Slave
The Slave
When the day was new, and the sun was just peeking over the horizon of distant hills, the city of Taihai had been bustling. Founded several decades ago by James Abernathy as a trading post, It had grown and expanded gradually under the guidance of the Abernathy Family for generations, until it had become not only a hub for trade for the entire region, but a metropolis of arts, culture, and acceptance, and a home to thousands.
But when the sun set on this day, the once great city had been rendered a smoking ruin; a horrid shell of its former self. A group of dragons had come upon the city, and did what dragons so often do. They raged and they rampaged, crushing and slaughtering the thousands who called the city home. Those few who managed to escape the crushing feet or hungry jaws of the dragons, fell victim to other dragons. Attracted by the scents of lust in the air, other dragons had come upon the city; petty scavengers who sought to take what they could from the carcass of what was left of humanity.
All things considered, Barrette fancied himself lucky. If there were a tier of dragons, based on their power and strength and age, Barrette would be towards the bottom. He was still young, and comparatively weak, but he was clever and wily, as the young but hungry tended to be. While the older brutes fought amongst themselves in the most populated areas of the city, fighting for individual humans while scores more were trampled beneath their feet and tails, Barrette slunk through the ruins, finding a secluded spot he could search. A few stray humans disappeared into his jaws, but the prize of the day came when he happened upon a troupe of Royal Guards, seeking to escort who Barrette assumed was the city's prince out of the ruins. The Royal Guards put up an impressive fight, but they were exhausted after such a long siege, and even as a young dragon, Barrette was more than a match for them. Soon enough, they had disappeared past his jaws, and spent their last few moments of life suffocating in his dark, airless belly, long before his acids could do their work. That left the prince, who Barrette thought of devouring, but had a better thought. Instead, he snatched the prince up, and beat his wings, soon entering the air. After finding a nice air current, he glided out of the region, and to someplace he could be more secure.
Barrette was a young dragon, but still impressive in build and height. His torso was long and slim, although his middle was slightly pudgier now, considering the knights he had just devoured. It felt good to fly with the slight weight in his middle, and occasionally, a low giggle escaped his throats when the knights, in a death twitch, managed to tickle his inner walls. He could feel them churning inside him, their flesh and bone melting easily. Their armor would take a while longer, but he had no doubt that soon his belly would be empty. Barrette was mostly black over his back, while his underbelly was a nice shade of purple. He was nightmarish by human standards, and often used his appearance to bolster their compliance. There was no way they would know he was young, after all. For all they knew, he was a king.
Barrette fluttered down, landing with a quaking thump on the ground. He was in a savannah, and had managed to find the sun, which washed the sands with rays of baking gold. The warmth felt wonderful on his scales, and helped him digest the large meal that was still lying dormant in his stomach. Yes, very a nice place to have his fun.
Barrette lay on his side, coiling his long body slightly, cutting off most directions that his captive could use to escape, before plopping the little prince down before him. The prince was on his feet in a moment, and drew a small dagger from someplace behind him. He stared defiant at Barrette, who simply used his index claw to flick the human's chest, sending him tumbling and flipping over the sands, his dagger tumbling out of his grip. For a moment, Barrette was concerned he might have killed his new toy, but then the prince rose to his feet, and attempted to run for his dagger that he had dropped. Again, Barrette's finger flicked the little man, sending him spiraling and tumbling, head over heels, until he at last came to a stop.
Surely, that had broken some of the prince's ribs, but again the prince stood, and again he dashed for the dagger. Apparently the prince was equal parts hardy and stupid, and rather than flick him again, Barrette lifted his paw, and slammed it down. Dust and sand was kicked up by the force, and when the air had cleared, Barrette looked upon the little prince. His head peeked out from between Barrette's toes, the rest of his body smothered by the warm, squishy pads that covered Barrette's paw. The prince struggled and pushed against the foot, but the thought that he might possess the strength to free himself was comical. Still, he was blessed with enchantments of fortitude and strength. That was the only way to explain how he was not a stain beneath the paw. Barrette grinned cruelly. This changed everything, to be sure. Before, he had simply planned to shove the prince up his anus, and leave him to twitch until the bulk was no longer pleasant. And although Barrette still intended to do that, surely there was more to do with an indestructible slave first.
Barrette lifted his paw slowly, and this time the human did not move. He just lay there, looking up at the dragon's looming face. Barrette lowered his head slowly, licking his lips, and asked, "What is your name, child?"
The prince did not respond, prompting Barrette to lift one of his massive paws into the air. He swung it down with all the force he could muster, a blow that, even with his enchantment, the prince may not survive. "Alfonse," shouted the prince, and the paw came to a stop abruptly, although the gust of wind kicked another storm of sand into the air.
"Alfonse? Hmm... an interesting name. I am Barrette, Alfonse, your new master."
Alfonse glared at the looming dragon. "You are not my master!"
"Oh, but I am, tiny one. You see, I am larger and stronger than you." Barrette plucked Alfonse up by the leg, and lifted him, dangling him in front of his muzzle. "I could devour your, or incinerate you, or crush you. Just how strong do you think your enchantments are? Do you believe you could survive the many horrors I could inflict upon you? Do you believe you would want to? Even if your fortitude is great and your bones refuse to yield, imagine the pains I can introduce you to, as I melt the skin and fat from those indestructible bones."
Fear crept slowly onto Alfonse's features, replacing the stern look of defiance. Soon, it was only wide eyed horror that stared at the dragon. Humans were funny creatures, Barrette mused. So strong willed and defiant, until something actually put weight against them. And then, they crumbled.
"Yes, you are mine, isn't that right?"
Alfonse's head slowly lifted up and down. Barrette smiled. "So small. So weak and pathetic. You fancied yourself something special, did you not? And yet, all you were was the prince of an anthill."
Alfonse's hands tightened into fists as he stared at the looming dragon, but he said nothing. Barrette picked Alfonse up carefully, perhaps with more care than was really needed considering the endurance that Alfonse had shown before, but better to stray on the side of caution. Dexterous fingers held the tiny human, as Barrette's eyes skimmed over his every inch. He was, by most standards, average. His height and build were nothing of interest, perhaps he was even below average and underweight. His hair, however, was pure white, as was his skin, as if he had never seen the light of day in all his years on this earth. He was dressed in clothing that did not befit a prince, and in fact, if he had not been traveling with a squad of royal guards, Barrette may have passed him off as a simple civilian, and devoured him without a second thought. Regardless, Barrette did not like the clothing, and pinched the shirt with his claws. It took a few tugs and slashes, but eventually the shirt tore over the back, and Alfonse was left shivering in his hand. Barrette prepared to remove the pants, but Alfonse suddenly came to life. "N-no... please..."
"Remove them, slave, or I will douse you in flames, and see if the protection spells extend to your clothing."
"Y-you don't understand..."
The air around Barrette's nostrils distorted and shivered, as heat accumulated at the front of his snout. He reared his head forward, and from out his nostrils emerged a stream of black fire. Alfonse screamed and lifted his hands, as if that would ward off the blackness that quickly engulfed him. Barrette exhaled until his lungs were empty, and then took a quick breath. He puckered his lips and blew forward, the sharp gust of wind extinguishing the flames, and knocking Alfonse to the ground. Once more, dexterous fingers reached down, and plucked the little human up by the leg, lifting him to the dragon's eye.
Alfonse covered his crotch in silly humility, until Barrette gave him a sharp shake, and his limbs fell away. The dragon's eyes focused on the odd absence between the prince's legs, and then noticed a small, subtle slit concealed within the pure white pubic fur. When Alfonse had recovered from the shake, he covered his groin with his hands again, his white cheeked flushed red.
Barrette's laughter was warm and cruel. "Ah, you are your father's shame. A little abomination, locked away in a castle wall, kept from his subjects."
"I... I..." Alfonse wiggled and squirmed in fury and anger.
"You cannot sire children, but you can bare them, but where is the honor in that for a little cunt like you? There are thousands of whores who would throw themselves at your feet, but you cannot do anything with them." Barrette dropped the human, and thought of crushing the disgusting little rodent beneath his one of his feet. Alfonse may have been enchanted, but several tons, concentrated against one scaly foot, it seemed doubtful any magic could protect a host from that. But he had gone to all the trouble of kidnapping this prince, and planned to make the most of it.
"Can't let the other dragons smell you," Barrette said, once more picking Alfonse up. If the dragon had known a touch of tenderness before, it had disappeared with the knowledge he had kidnapped an abomination. "They will think you are a maiden and free game. I'll just have to mark you as my own." Holding Alfonse in his left hand, Barrette lifted his right arm to the sky. Alfonse was confused what was happening, until he noticed he was being brought across the dragon's body, and approaching the slight indent of the dragon's armpit. For a moment, he had no idea what the dragon's intention was. And then, he assumed this was some sort of joke, or the dragon was just trying to scare him. But as he drew closer and closer, the pungent smell of the dragon's musk touched his nose, and made it wrinkle. He gave a gasp, which only caused him to breathe more of the foul odor, and before he could tilt his head to a more appealing direction, he was pressed right up against the scaly skin of Barrette's underarm.
Dragons did not perspire in the mammalian sense, however, between their scales, they did release fluids. These odors were useful for courting mates during the appropriate season, and also useful for marking a certain territory as their own. Dragons adored their own odor, but by the way Alfonse squirmed and gasped, Barrette assumed humans did not share his taste. He brushed Alfonse up and down slowly, rubbing his skin against the sharp scales, inflicting small cuts over his virgin flesh. The bare skin brushed rather nicely against the scales, and so Barrette continued longer than he needed to. Barrette excreted fluids, and Alfonse's body did a good job soaking the musky sweat up.
Alfonse gasped and fought against the squeezing fingers, but they pinched his midsection so tight, it was impossible to get a position of leverage. Still he tried, and if Barrette were kinder, perhaps he would have commended his slave's resolve. But there was little kindness in the dragon's dark heart, and even less for a little freak like who he had now.
Alfonse gasped deep, sucking as much clean air as he could, but found there was none to be had. He looked down at his hands and arms with disgust, staring at the glistening fluid that coated him. He wanted to gag and vomit, but before he could even take another breath, he found himself dropped into the dragon's other hand. He watched with horror and revulsion as Barrette lifted his left arm over his head, and again stuffed Alfonse into the indent. He kicked delightfully, actually tickling Barrette even through the thickness of the scales. He found the more pressure he applied, the more he kicked, and took no end to the amusement in holding him there, forcing him to breathe the smell and kick for his pleasure. He craned his head down on his long neck and sniffed at his underarm, reveling in the scents.
Once again, Alfonse was freed of his prison and held cautiously in Barrette's hands. The purple eyes of the black dragon examined him, as if undecided of his next move. He wanted to do more, something else, something fun, but what? Alfonse crawled to the edge of the hand, and vomited sticky goo down to the ground. "Please!" he shouted. "Please, by the gods, please, don't... no more!"
Barrette's nostrils opened, and Alfonse braced himself to be enveloped in flame. Instead, Barrette simply took a deep breath, examining the scent and odor of what he held in his hand, and then frowned. "No, no. I can still smell your cunt. Oh well, I will just have to do more."
Alfonse let out a brief whimper as he was held by the chest, two fingers squeezing his ribs, and making it hard to breathe. Not that he wanted to, considering how awful the stench of his skin was. He whimpered louder as he was lowered, moving over the long torso of the dragon, past his belly, and then to between his legs. Breaking the sea of purple scales that composed his underbelly, were a pair of black lips. Alfonse fought all the more intensely, pleaded all the more desperately as he realized what the dragon desired. His captor's only response was a low sigh, as he pushed his fingers forward, and pressed Alfonse right up against the quivering sheath. A snarl escaped Barrette's throat, and a few puffs of smoke sputtered out of his nostrils. He slid Alfonse lower, until he was pressed right up against the draconic scrotum. Although a dragon's reproductive organs were internal, there were a pair of subtle orbs, pressing out of the scales, which smelled even muskier than his armpits. Alfonse stared dumbly at the two orbs, and before he could scream, his entire front was pressed hard against the scales.
Alfonse screamed and hissed, cursing not only the dragons, but the mages and priests who had fortified his bones to withstand such pressure. He was forced to endure the stench and weight against him, knowing that he would not succumb to the death he so desired, not quickly at least. He fought and kicked against the testicles that... by the gods, they were the size of a grown human each. And as he was pressed harder and harder into them; the taught, stretched skin began to yield to his form. He fought all the harder, gasping increasingly large breaths of draconic musk, struggling to escape the embrace of the two swollen orbs, which seemingly intended to absorb him. The scent was all around him, the scaly skin squeezing him and saturating him in the thick odor. Even when the fingers left his torso and moved to his back, the two massive balls squeezed him on both sides so tight, he could no longer move. And the miniscule slivers of light trickled from above were soon extinguished, leaving Alfonse in a dark, hot, reeking black.
Barrette sighed happily. He looked down, and had to smile as his erection began to thrust forward from out of the sheath. His erection had a deep, rich royal purple color, somewhere between the black of his back and the purple of his belly. He had seen his erection any number of times, but it was the smell that really aroused him. He wished he was in a cave. Then the air would grow thick and warm and wash over him. The air in the savannah dissipated too quickly, so leaning down, he breathed deep, smelling his scent, savoring every tickle in his nose.
At last he pulled his hands back and slowly but surely, the wiggling and squirming little human managed to work himself free of the testicles' tight embrace, and made the small plummet to the ground. Alfonse's white skin glistened with the coating of sweat that covered him. His hair was matted down with slick oils, and he kept puking from smell that covered him. And yet, between his legs, he felt a subtle burning, his body's natural reaction to the musky smell that he could not escape. He once more felt himself lifted up, this time by one of his arms. He did not rise as high as before, so to come eye level with the dragon, and instead was left to hover just over the engorged, purple erection. The musk here was stifling. It rose up from the heated girth, and did not have a chance to dissipate, so Alfonse found himself stuck in a cloud of the sickly odor. And what was worse, the dragon seemed intent to leave him there, leaving him to bathe in the roasting heat and heavy stench. Perhaps it was only moments, but for Alfonse, it felt like an eternity before at last he was dropped. He collided with the throbbing pillar of draconic flesh, gagging and gasping as the scent was now even stronger, if that was possible.
And the warmth... was not completely unpleasant. Alfonse braced his hands on the flesh, which was already drenched in the musky sweat. He tried to push himself up and off to escape the slick rod, but he could find no purchase in the moist skin and several times slipped and splat wetly against the girth, his front hitting against it. Soon, the looming hand of the dragon came down, and the palm pressed upon his back. With the weight and pressure upon, he could no longer move, and was forced to simply endure the odor of the penis, as well as the warmth, which he tried to tell himself was revolting. But truthfully, the heat between his legs was oddly pleasant. He had spent years of his life locked away in the castle, rarely even seeing the light of the sun, and so any source of warmth against him caused bliss like he had never known. He gasped and groaned, wiggling slightly in the embrace of the hand, but not actually to get away. He found himself grinding his vagina against the girth, which sent lightning through his spine and made him shiver and moan.
Barrette was not aware that Alfonse was enjoying himself, and truthfully would not have cared either way. He simply found the pleasure of the human's bare skin against his sensitive penis quite pleasant, and began to move him up and down, starting to masturbate. A young dragon, he did not often have the right to a mate. Too often, he was forced to find pleasure in his squamous hand. But the human's soft skin against him, as soft as silk, and with the added lubrication of his musk, it was delightful. He was actually sorry he had spent so many years of his life devouring humans, instead of using them for pleasure first. He squeezed Alfonse's supple body against his flesh, whining and hissing, snorts of smoke billowing out of his nostrils.
He squeezed the tiny one up against him as he rubbed his erection gently. Growls and hisses slipped between his lips as he moved the silky flesh up and down, and then slid him higher and to his engorged glans. Tilting the human's head carefully with a finger, he managed to slip his nose into the slit. Barrette jerked forward suddenly, groaning and gasping, pumping his large shaft with his other hand. Alfonse shook side to side, wiggling and grinding his slit against the warmth, feeling every bump of the thick skin against his insides. The scents of the slit, what at first revolted him, he now breathed deep and adored it. The finger behind him left, and he pulled his back to catch a breath of air. In doing so, he preserved his life, as just then Barrette released a massive blob of white that surely would have decapitated the prince.
Barrette arched his back. A splash of hot seed shot into the air, arced, and then came crashing down upon the sands, sizzling slightly. Barrette could feel another spurt rushing through his shaft, and quickly moved Alfonse to his slit. The splash coated his hand and the prince held inside, coating him in the musky cream. Spurt after spurt slammed against his hand, and Alfonse, drenching and drowning the little man mercilessly. Oh, it had been so long since he had had a last pleasured himself, even longer since he had female companion, and although a little cunt like the prince was not what he had in mind, it was certainly preferable to being alone.
At last Barrette fell backwards, stretching over the sands as far as his body would allow. His belly was full, his balls were empty... by the gods he had never felt so blessed. After a moment, he realized that he was still holding Alfonse tightly, and opened his hand, looking down at the coated creature, who only stared up at him, a look of shame, revulsion and strange arousal evident on his features.
Barrette sat up, using one of his arms to brace himself, while the other held tight to the prince. Barrette looked over himself, over his torso that was saturated with musky white, past his still dribbling erection, and then to his tail hole. It wasn't easy to make out against the dark purple underbelly, but at last he spied it, and looked to Alfonse, grinning. Pinching Alfonse carefully under the arms, he leaned forward, and lowered him to the slight part in the scales. Alfonse looked down, and his eyes widened suddenly. If he were being lowered to the sheath, he might not have panicked, having seen the worse that the penis could do. But the eagerly flexing anus of the dragon was a horrid sight for him. He looked up to his master, and then down again, as his feet and toes brushed against the skin. It yielded slickly, opening as his toes were pressed against the skin, and then inviting him inside with warmth. His body, covered in seed, was so well lubricated; Barrette barely had to apply pressure to push him inside. Occasionally, the pucker clenched hard, and the prince screamed out in pain and horror. Barrette ignored his whining, and simply waited until his body had loosened. Alfonse was breathing fast and his breath was labored, which meant he kept inhaling musk, which meant the slit between his legs was warm and aching, and some part of him actually craved being inside the anus.
Even as his chin hit against the wrinkled skin, he looked up to Barrette for some show of mercy or kindness. He had done well, hadn't he? Hadn't he pleasured his master well, and now deserved even the smallest hint of kindness? Barrette's response was a finger, the pad gently upon Alfonse's crown. Tears streamed down Alfonse's face, providing just a tad of lubrication, and making it just a little easier to push him entirely inside the stifling anus. "You did well," Barrette said, as he continued pressing. Soon his finger was occupying the upper recesses of his sphincter, and he wiggled it, driving the prince farther and farther into the dark, dry, airless tunnel of his anus. The prince's panicked squirms made it easier to work him down, and Barrette whined as he felt Alfonse move all the way down, soon kicking and beating against his draconic prostate. He would not last long, inside him. The enchantments provided him strength of body, but there was simply no air to breath inside a dragon's bowels. Barrette cared little. He rubbed his belly, whining and groaning, feeling the armor of the knights finally dissolve into digestible muck. He took a deep breath, and then set his head down, closing his eyes, and laughing as Alfonse occasionally twitched against his clenches. All too often, the twitches died out, however, although Barrette found the human sized bulk held inside actually rather pleasant.
For now, Barrette was a youth, a scavenger, and would have to wait until a stronger dragon razed a human town to eat like this again. He would have to wait, and then pick the remains like a rodent. But Barrette was smart and keen, and had no doubt that soon he would rule this land, and every man and dragon in it. Lofty dreams, but ones that kept his erection dribbling, even after he slipped into sleep.