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Sir Smith didn’t exactly come from a long line of knights - thus the surname - but he never let that stop him from realizing his ambitions as a slayer of all that which threatened the sovereignty of the kingdom. People weren’t his specialty. Instead, he’d been polishing his skills against the many dangerous beasts of the world, conquering them in combat through a mix of guile and sheer tenacity. Some said it wasn’t the most glamorous of pursuits, but he took pride in the way he forged his own path, his own [i]legend[/i]. The many trophies on the wall proved that much. As did the pelts, the teeth, the claws, everything he took from his marks. Some of them were so fearsome that the peasants would have fainted dead away to merely glimpse those snarling visages mounted upon his wall. Though some were still so bold as to wonder what the big, empty space in the middle was for.

There was no doubt that a veteran hunter like him was an asset to the kingdom, that he alone was responsible for the safety of many a travelling merchant or woodsman. He cut an imposing figure, much taller than the average man, and more sturdy than even the other knights, his bulky frame apparent even in the concealment of his armour. But while the other knights found made the women swoon, and the men buy their drinks, Smith frequently found himself drinking alone in the tavern, the tales of his greatest conquests fell on disinterested ears while soldiers exchanged war stories and exaggerated their deeds. Nobody seemed to care about the beasts or monsters he’d fought, no matter how large or ferocious they were - they always had the same question. What about dragons?

What [i]about[/i] dragons? Was he not worth his salt just because he hadn’t managed to slay one of those oversized lizards? Or maybe it was the story that circulated of his humiliating defeat at the claws of one of those creatures, years ago when he was still green and honing his talents in swordplay. It should have finished him there. Instead, it had let him go out of an apparent sense of mercy, or pity. Or maybe just boredom. He needed months to recover from the injuries, but there was no commendation for his valour. Just because he had screamed and pleaded for his life in defeat didn’t mean anything. He had survived an encounter with a dragon! Surely that was worth something. Yet even to the casual listener, the ones who knew nothing of his old shame, they always inquired about the same thing. Had he ever fought a dragon? Why not? Well, he’d show them. If that was what it took to become a respected hero, to make his way into the ballads, then he’d slay a dragon, at last. Even if it meant travelling to the end of the world.

He had never seen so much snow before. It felt like he was witnessing the end times, as the prophecies foretold. Crunching his way up the icy mountain, he pulled his cloak about him, thankful at least for the many pelts insulating his body. Remnants of previous hunts, they kept the cutting wind from piercing through his skin. Only dragonfire could have possibly staved off such chill for good. Nothing else lived there, in his experience. He saw no birds, no creatures burrowing through the ice. And on he climbed, scaling the sheer rock with his pick and rope, the hilt of his sword scraping against the slope as he hefted his armourclad form upwards. Such a feat of strength was no joke - but a veteran knight like him knew how to move around in his suit as if it were a second skin, feeling as if weightless and capable of flight whenever he wasn’t encased in that protective coating of steel. When he reached the peak and gazed into the gaping maw of an expansive cave, he knew he’d reached his destination. There was no time to stop for breath.

In truth, it was a relief to find the rumours proved fruitful. There was no contract, no bounty on this particular creature. It hadn’t been harassing the townspeople or the farmer’s stock yet. But that was only a matter of time. The only dragons that he’d ever known of had been mindlessly destructive things, suited only for slaying, terrible blights upon the human world that refused to coexist. So it was no fault of his that even the most isolated of dragons was a target to him. They had proven their intent by existence alone. They weren’t just mindless beasts, they were [i]cruel[/i], actively taking pleasure in the pain and death they inflicted. Or so he assumed. His only experience had been with the one member of the species, so many years ago, and he still had the scars to remind him of his personal vendetta. Maybe finally having his redemption was going to be easier than he thought. Following the sound of snoring echoing through his cave directed him to his enormous target, and she hadn’t even noticed him yet.

They called her Sapphire. Well, the reason for that was obvious enough. A great, blue gleaming jewel of a dragon, she slumped all wrapped in her wings, her belly rising and falling with those slow, deep breaths. Her presence alone warmed the cave, banishing the chill that still clung to his furs, leaving him feeling suddenly overdressed, even sweltering. He could worry about that once she was slain. Certainly a dragon’s scales were hard, but he could already see the gaps between them where she was less armoured. All he had to do was creep up on her, draw his blade, and he could inflict a fatal blow before she even knew he was there to challenge her for the crime of simply being a dragon. One clanking step, and then a second, moving as quietly as his layers allowed him, and he was closer, and closer, basking in the breath puffing from her nostrils, trying not to sweat so much, as if he could will himself to cool down. Being near her was starting to make him feel like stepping back into the icy air, or at least start stripping from his protections, but there was no time for that. He needed to do what he travelled so far to do. He’d pictured this moment a thousand times, imagined the glorious triumph, pictured seemingly every possible scenario that led to his victory. Yet this hadn’t been one of them. A third step, thumping down a bit too hard on the hard stone floor beneath him, and she snorted suddenly, making him freeze in place.

Even holding his breath and keeping perfectly still, he couldn’t keep from waking her. She slowly opened one slitted reptilian eye, and then the other, filling the cave with a strange light as she gazed over at the intruder. His presence made her blink a few times, and then she smacked her chops and slowly sat up, moving slowly, even lazily. Surely it was all a ruse. She wanted him to think her vulnerable, to charge while she woke from her nap, so that she could shred him in a single blow. No, better he held his ground, and prepared himself the move at the first sign of her hostilities. His hand strayed near his blade, but he didn’t dare grasp the hilt, not yet. Let her show her hand first. Dragons were smart enough, he knew. They were more clever than the usual rampaging beasts. He had to play this one smart, like a duelist. Though for as much as he knew about draconic intelligence, he did not for a moment expect her to actually [i]speak[/i] to him.

“Oh! A human! I think. You smell like one.”

Her voice rumbled through the cave, deep and powerful, but there was something soft about it, even friendly. The warm, feminine charm of her speech put him more on guard. Surely such a thing was meant to bewitch him into defencelessness. He wouldn’t be fooled, nor swayed, even as she leaned her head down near him, resting her chin on her front feet as if they were a pair of hands.

“Are you a knight? I’m not sure what you’re doing all the way up here! You must be terribly lost. Maybe you were hoping I might have something to eat? I’d be happy to fire something up for you, if that’s the case.”

“Your deception won’t work on me, foul beast,” he sneered, though she couldn’t see it beneath his helmet.

“Rude,” she scolded, and then sighed. “I see. You’re one of [i]those[/i] knights. You have certainly travelled a long way to bother me. I specifically chose this place so that I might have a peaceful life, away from other intelligent creatures. Dealing with them always leads to trouble, one way or another, and I don’t mind eating wild game one bit. Yet here you are.”

“Here I am indeed.” He took a more confident stance, finally free from the paralyzing shackles that overcame him when she first awoke. “And here your terror ends.”

“Terror!” she scoffed. “What terror? I haven’t bothered a single human in an entire age. And even that was a misunderstanding.”

“Your kind of cruel, wicked, and purely evil, by to very core. The absence of abominable actions does not excuse your nature. I will rid the world of such a blight, and all shall know my name, at last.”

“Mhm. And what name is that, exactly?” She still hadn’t moved into an aggressive stance.

With that, he swiftly unsheathed his sword and held it aloft to catch the light that shone in from the cave’s entrance. “Ready yourself, for you face the wrath of Sir Smith!”

“Shouldn’t you be forging something right about now? Oh, very well. If you really want to fight. I could use a little variety in my diet.”

That was the last straw. Smith wasn’t going to stand there and let a dragon taunt him. She would respect him once she observed his martial prowess for herself. A swift overhead slash was the only introduction he needed to give. Certainly, such an attack left him exposed, if he were fighting a rival knight. But she was a dragon, not some master swordsman. That was the advantage of being a beast hunter - such creatures had no knowledge of the art of duelling, they moved in base, predictable ways, and couldn’t even begin to understand the concept of parrying and counterattacking. Those great, sharp claws were surely deadly, if wielded with expertise, but he could tell just by looking at her that she was clumsy with them, that she would be no match for his expertise with the blade and - oh, she was quicker than he thought, wasn’t she?

She batted him aside as if swatting at a bug, the blow more a dismissive gesture than a decisive strike. It was still enough to send him soaring from one side of the cave to the other, crashing to the hard stone floor. His armour protected him from her unholy strength, but it cracked and shattered in places in the process. Bit of it fell free, the debris loudly clattering around him as he struggled to rise. A dull pain in his chest told him he was hurt, but it wasn't enough to stop him. He recovered his breath, and looked to his fallen sword. It was within reach. The dragoness remained where she was, resting her head on her hands, or the equivalent thereof. Such cockiness would be her downfall, Smith thought to herself. Allowing him to rise and rearm himself, when she had the advantage? Such mistakes were the reason why humanity was the dominant species. He dove for his weapon, ignoring the aching in his ribs, and took it up in both hands, readying himself for another charge. This time, he didn’t go for a flashy overhead swing, but instead just thrust his sword forth, and his aim was true. She couldn’t avoid it in time.

Such a thing would have been devastating if he were up against an unarmoured creature. He put all his strength into it, all his body weight, all his remaining vigour, carrying it out with a vicious warcry. That bellow turned into more of a surprised grunt when his master-smithed sword bent, cracked, and broke against the dragon’s scales without so much as leaving a dent. He might as well have stabbed a mountain, and he ended up staggering back with the hilt of his sword in his hands, left staring down at the jagged remains of what had once been a solid blade. She didn’t bleed, didn’t flinch, or even seem to notice that blow in any way. And in his dumbfounded state, he couldn’t move. Perhaps she’d worked his magic over him, intoxicated his mind with merely a glance, or a thought. Such a thing would have at least explained why he couldn’t even [i]try[/i] to dodge such an obvious attack. All she did was raise one of those great big front feet up, high above his head, and lazily bring it down in a colossal stomp, heavy enough to shake the mountain upon which they did battle. He was flattened in an instant, or at least it felt as much. Mostly she just knocked him down, and kept him there.

“That’ll be enough of that,” she told him, sternly. “I am quickly finding I am not in the mood for this. Waking sleeping dragons makes them grumpy, didn’t you know? But, maybe there is still some fun to be had.”

She wasn’t pressing down, but the weight of her foot alone was enough to keep him down, to slowly cave in his armour, to make it difficult to breathe. All he could do was rasp in response, though he did his best to make it sound defiant at least.

“Let’s just get rid of that …” She knocked what remained of his weapon away, sending it skidding well out of reach. “Now for all the annoying metal. You’re like overgrown peanuts, you knights. So much shell. I [i]could[/i] eat it, but that would ruin the taste, don’t you think?”

He was in no position to answer, or to do much of anything at all. All he could do was grit his teeth and try not to wheeze too loudly. He couldn’t let her know he was in pain. She kept one big toe on him, lifting up some of that weight, but it was still more than enough to ensure he stayed where he was. Not that he’d ever admit it, but being stripped down, bit by bit, was actually a huge relief. Once she pried that dented armour from his chest, he found himself able to breathe again. She removed his helmet, his breastplate, his greaves, his boots, sparing nothing. The furs beneath the hard outer layer didn’t last either, nor did his clothing. She could be astoundingly precise with those deadly claws, curling them into the fabric, tearing it away without doing him any actual harm. Soon he was more or less completely naked, but for the few last scraps clinging to his form, fully exposed before her and the elements. Only the proximity to her heated body kept him from freezing. And now, with nothing to cover him, he had no idea how he was going to survive the return journey. But he had more pressing matters to concern himself with, as she loomed above, giving him an imposing gaze, her eyes flashing with something more than the passive disinterest she’d granted him thus far. Now she looked more like a dragon, smouldering with predatory fire.

“Now …” she began, her voice dropping an octave, becoming a low rumble. “You seem handsome enough. Well-built, at least. And it will be entertaining to have you entirely at my mercy. Before I eat you, of course.”

She leaned in close, making him flinch at the sheer heat of her breath against his naked body. It was enough to make him instantly sweat as she washed over him with that steaming exhalation, making him feel like he was being ever so slightly cooked. He squirmed beneath her, but the position of her claw, pointed straight at his face but not quite touching, was enough to keep him from truly struggling. All would have needed to do was shift her weight forward, and he’d have been impaled. It was in his best interests to avoid such a fate, even if it might have been the best solution rather than to let some cruel lizard torment him. He knew she had it in her. She might have seemed passive, even friendly at first meeting, but there was that cruelty, that sadistic side that all dragons had. He wasn’t going to let her enjoy this. And he definitely wasn’t going to beg this time.

“Foul thing! Go ahead! Finish me! More will come! They will hear of my falling and avenge my name!”

“Is that so?” She hotly scoffed at him. “And how will they find out, exactly? All the way out here, all on your own … and without a single trace of you left by the time I’m done.”

She was already speaking in a frightfully low tone, but she went even deeper, taking on a voice that was almost … sensual, in its depths.

“You’re allllll mine, until I tire of you. My personal human toy. I should thank you, even if your introduction was terribly impolite. It does get dull sometimes, living all the way up here.”

That she slid her toe from atop him and replaced its pressure with her tongue only added to that effect. He was unable to dodge her slurping attention, feeling as if he was instantly submerged in a vat of hot dragon drool, slathered and stroked by that slobbery organ while she lapped at his bare skin, from face to toes, and everything in between. She left him wearing a blanket of saliva, his skin glistening once she was done with him. It soaked into his scalp, or dampened his scruff of a beard. Yet for all he wanted to wipe at his face and sputter, he stayed very still, watching her withdraw and lick her chops, raining a little more spit down on him while she sighed into an extended ‘mmmmm’ of satisfaction.

“Very nice. You take good care of yourself. I appreciate that. The last thing I’d want is some dirty human sliding down my gullet. Get up.”

He didn’t even fully register that she’d given him a command for a few moments. He was too fixated on the mention of swallowing him. Alive, or … otherwise. She repeated herself, this time more sharply.

“[i]Get. Up.[/i] I won’t ask you again.”

His legs were feeling weak, but he managed to scramble to his feet when she ordered it. Standing there, fully nude, dripping her drool, sweltering in her body heat, he felt perfectly vulnerable, knowing she could end his existence on a whim at any moment, but nonetheless he stood steadily. Relatively so, anyway. He wouldn’t let her see him tremble, though the tension in his body was plain to see. For the briefest moment, his gaze danced from hers and instead to the snowy mouth of the cave. It was only a glance, but it was enough for her to notice. She snorted in audible amusement and gestured with her head to the only exit in sight.

“Go ahead. Run for your life. Plunge naked down a frozen mountain with none of your supplies. Let your glorious dying moment be turning into a frozen treat for me to pluck out of the snow.” She licked her chops again, this time wetly enough to splash him with spit as if she’d just emptied a bucket in his face. “You are stuck here with me now. Your only hope is to do as I say and hope that I will be merciful. That I will make it [i]less[/i] painful for you when I make dinner of your body.”

He wouldn’t admit it, but she was right. He would have lasted minutes at most out there, and it wouldn’t have been a pleasant death. All he could do was obey, and hope that it bought him enough time to think of something. The dragoness finally stood, or at least rose to a sitting position, towering over him, confronting him with her azure underside while he held his position, watching her stretching out towards the roof of the expansive cave. Was that a grin on her face? Perhaps it was just a snarl, letting him see those deadly teeth of hers gleaming brightly. They were surprisingly white for a wild beast. And her scales glinted in a way that he might have complimented, were she not a cruel, murderous creature. She tapped a claw against her scaled belly, and snorted steam from her nostrils.

“Worship me. Tend to me. Show me how much you adore my body. I want you to know what you’re going to add to. What you’ll become [i]part[/i] of.”

That made him startle, stepping back as if struck. She wanted him to [i]what?[/i] What a vile thought, that he would debase himself with the beast he sought to slay. When he didn’t move right away, she leaned her head down, and punched her words into existence with a forceful snarl through her teeth.

“Press up against my belly. Now. Use your hands. And your tongue. Prove your devotion.”

She didn’t even have to include a threat along with those commands. It was certainly implied. He didn’t let his gaze stray this time, knowing how closely she was watching him. His mind raced, but he couldn’t think of any alternative. He was just going to have to do what she said. It pained him to sacrifice his dignity in such a way, but … no one needed to know the details of his eventual victory. He could weave a tale of an epic battle, and let none ever know that he was stripped naked and forced to serve the dragoness like a common pet. All he had to do was bide his time, and the perfect opportunity would arise. It wasn’t the first time he’d been at a temporary disadvantage. But usually that just meant getting injured, and not humiliating himself by tending to a dragon’s greedy needs. Placing his hands upon those sleek scales might have been oddly pleasing, with that bumpy texture beneath his fingers stimulating him right back as he slowly stroked, but he wasn’t going to let himself enjoy it. Especially once he heard the gurgle.

Not two rubs of that great big dragon gut and he already heard it rumbling, heard it loudly roaring right there in his face like Sapphire had somehow swallowed a lion and it wasn’t happy about it. Then there came the gurgling, that loud, wet sloshing and churning that sounded like someone violently jostling around a half-full bottle. He could feel the vibrations, the inner grumble of that hunger, waiting for something to satisfy it. Something like him. Part of him thought it wasn’t a good idea to keep rubbing, lest he encourage her ravenousness, but that appetite of hers was already clearly awake. It was best to keep doing what she said, especially with her looming right above, her hot breath on his back a reminder of how easily she could just snap him up and devour him in a single bite. Or maybe it’d take two, but that sounded even worse to him. Instead, he pushed those thoughts aside and instead kneaded deeply into her underside, massaging her like he was kneading bread. Were those growls of hers barely-contained aggression, or were they more akin to a contented purr?

Eventually, she gave a snort. She sounded mildly impressed, perhaps.

“Hmm. A start. But we both know where you really belong. Down, boy.”

She teased him as if he were a dog. The indignity of it made his cheeks flush hotly for a moment, thinking of blurting out some foolish retort, but he managed to restrain himself. There wasn’t anything he could do about such an offence. Nor could he stay on his own two feet when she pushed him with a front foot, knocking him flat on his back, briefly stunning him from the impact. He was used to falling in armour, but in the nude, the hard stone thumped him in the back and shoulders harshly, leaving him to grunt and sprawl as he shook it off. That was just enough time for her to blot out what light drifted into the cave, at least for him. He widened his eyes at the sight of her huge, scaled backside poised right above him, filling his vision with her dark blue haunches, all thick and broad. That was all the time he got to consider such a sight before she came down firm upon his entire body, burying him beneath those cheeks, putting on just enough weight to pin him down without completely crushing him. He couldn’t move a muscle, but for the occasional squirm while she wiggled her backside atop him, adjusting for position until he was snugly between the two cheeks of a dragon’s ass, smothered directly against the rim of her hole, unable to fight off such a vulgar, humiliating treatment. She rubbed her rump in his face, and he could only struggle and try to turn his head, gasping for air when the pressure lightened somewhat.

“Now go on. Go ahead and kiss my ass, sir knight. Whatever your name was. Let me know how much you love dragon rump.”

She waited for his response, lightly bouncing her butt up and down on his face, sometimes grinding back and forth just to shove his face deeper against that tight ring. A little more pressure and he might have vanished inside. He grit his teeth, tried to have courage and resist her, but he knew how easily she could have just dropped all her weight and crushed him. That he could breathe even slightly was her mercy at work. So, why not. Anything to keep himself alive, so that he might … well, he wasn’t sure what he might do. Reforge his blade through sheer heroic willpower and somehow find the strength to pierce her scales and strike her down in a single blow? Part of him knew it was already over, he’d already lost, that he was due for a gruesome fate no matter what he did to please her. But that inner voice got pushed aside in favour of his most subservient side, kissing her backside all she liked, smooching her beneath that great thick tail with the same attentiveness he might give a lover. She grunted her approval once she felt her little lips working on her.

“Mmhmm, good. Lick too. Show me you’ll do anything for me.”

He did that too, giving her a tiny rimjob that seemed to pleasure her disproportionately for how much she reacted to every stroke of his tongue across her rear. She grunted deeply as he worked, even gave him what sounded like some long, exaggerated moans while he worked on her. Some part of him enjoyed those noises she made. They were so powerful, so feminine … perhaps he could learn to truly serve her, in time. If that was what she wanted. His body had a slight reaction to her breathy sounds of pleasure, a slight tinge of something like arousal. He cursed such a depraved instinct, but had to admit he liked the sounds she made. They encouraged him to work firmer, deeper, more attentively, worshipping her like she was queen of the mountain. Which, considering the lack of much else in that frozen land, perhaps she was. Though he was starting to feel the lack of air getting to him, his head spinning and his chest starting to burn as his efforts faltered, his thoughts fading from him as he drew close to flopping down and passing out. She withdrew from his face just in time to leave him gasping back into awareness before he fainted, struggling to sit, then not bothering as she turned herself around and nudged her snout directly against his face, speaking directly into his ears so the sound of her voice itself completely engulfed him.

“Yes, yes, not bad. I see you are not afraid to at least [i]try[/i] to please a woman. But have you ever [i]truly[/i] satisfied one, with such simple tongue-work?”

He certainly didn’t know how to answer that, so she just went on, sounding bored.

“This has all been fun, but such an appetite I’ve worked up since you woke me. I think it’s time for you to see where you’ll be going.”

As if his current situation wasn’t already paralyzing enough, Smith found himself locked in place, frozen in what could have been called rapturous awe at the sight of her great maw spreading open before his eyes, glorious and terrible all in one. He watched the saliva stretch, snapping, framing the gaping pit of her gullet with a coating of glistening shine. Her breath was even hotter now. He steamed in it until he felt partly cooked, and for a moment, he thought back to the stories of dragons burning and pillaging all they wished. Was he but a single whim away from being scorched to ash? He wasn’t going to take any risks, holding as still as possible, trying not to flinch, or to even breathe much at all while she stretched those jaws before him. Every deadly fang, curved and gleaming, her great thick tongue, and the darkness waiting beyond, it was all clearly visible even in the low light. He hard blinked, taking in every fleshy detail, feeling as if he could imagine the texture of her inner flesh before he got to find out for himself as she swept her thick tongue beneath his prone body and scooped him up as if he didn’t weigh a thing.

Into her jaws he went, lifted with ease and plapped down on her tongue, stretched out on that slimy bed with his feet pointed straight at the entrance to her throat. Try as he did not to cry out, not to show his fear, he couldn’t stay silent as he slipped smoothly into the sloppy embrace of a dragon’s mouth. A startled whimper was better than a scream, at least, and it soon became a sputter and a cough as he found himself accidentally swallowing the hot spit flowing all around him. He could hear it [i]squelching[/i] over his naked form, dripping down from all sides. And he was pretty sure it was getting thicker, pouring out heavier and hotter as she held him there, taking a good sample of his human flavour.

He could never seem to catch his breath. Not when the humidity was that thick, that stifling. It was choking him, and that was before she closed her mouth. The darkness overcame him as she sealed her jaws, clicking her teeth shut with him trapped between her tongue and the textured roof of her mouth as surely as being closed into a casket. Reaching his hands up and pressing at the top of her maw did nothing to dissuade her, no matter how much strength he put into the effort, desperately trying to pry her jaws apart with every trace of human might he could muster. Even when his arms were trembling and his shoulders aching, she remained firm, clasping him there, sucking on him as if he were a candied treat. Only when she spoke did he get a moment of respite, the dragoness deftly maneuvering her tongue around him to form her words.

“Hmm. Not bad. A touch salty. Humans have never been my [i]favourite[/i], but you’ll do, for now. Let’s get a little more flavour out of you, shall we?”

She offered no further explanation of what she meant, and no warning either. Her tongue struck him like a vicious serpent, coiling around his upper body while she moved him around inside her mouth, pressing him from cheek to cheek, draining the flavour from his bare skin as he kicked and struggled with rising desperation. He was exhausted, and he could feel it in his aching muscles, but that was no excuse to stop fighting. There was no obeying her, no pleasing her anymore. He did everything in his limited remaining power to try to change her mind, punching at the fleshy details of her maw, kicking, even attempting to scratch her with his fingernails. They certainly didn’t compare to her claws, and nothing could stop the slurping assault, tossing him around, splashing him about with what felt like a tidal wave of dragon spit. He was somewhere beyond soaked by then, feeling as if he were a dozen feet beneath the surface of a boiling lake, overheating to the point of nearly passing out. But he was a knight, and he wasn’t going to let his will break, no matter how roughly she treated him, sucking away until it felt as if she might pull his skin right off his body. At least she kept him safe from her teeth as she played with him, was his thought, precisely two moments before things turned for the worse.

All it took was a little shove of her tongue between his legs, nudging him over to lay across the rigid line of her terrible fangs. He felt them digging into his ribs, his sides, their points like newly-sharpened spears, hardly showing much sign of wear and tear. Struggling just made it worse, causing those deadly points to unlovingly caress against his skin until they pierced through such paltry natural armour. He was bleeding upon her teeth, the crimson mixing with her saliva while she smacked her lips and kneaded his legs from above with the roof of her mouth. It felt like she might shatter his knee, but instead he ended up just getting her lower fangs digging deeper into him, piercing flesh, pressing against bone, leaving him with a ragged wound that bled badly. It probably wasn’t fatal, with proper treatment. But getting tossed about in a dragon’s slobbery maw was hardly the medical attention he needed. Weakly pressing his hands against the edges of her teeth, he slowly pried himself from atop them, only to cry out as she slammed them down with a sudden [i]CLACK[/i], slamming her jaws shut with an accompanying crackle of bone and flesh being sheared right through. That left him wondering, for an all-too-torturous moment, whether she’d just snipped him in half.

Maybe that would have been a better alternative. One the pain set in and he realized the extent of the damage, he knew he’d never be a swordsman again. Not with his sword arm mangled into a blood stump, crudely severed just above the elbow, with some of the snapped bone sticking out from the coarse wound. He saw the limb flopping about uselessly between her teeth, then recoiled as she crunched into it again, mashing it into little more than paste. After that, she swallowed, leaving him clinging to her tongue with his one remaining hand to keep from getting washed down by the wave of saliva, listening to the deadly [i]ulllp[/i] just behind him as she sucked his flesh and blood into the embrace of peristalsis. It didn’t take much effort at all to swallow such a small piece of him, but the sound echoed up like a clap of thunder anyway, at least for him. He was left clutching at his mangled limb, wincing, clenching his jaw tight, trying not to wail in agony. It was hardly flattering or valiant, but few could ever call him a coward in those moments.

“Mm! There we go! A few good chomps to get the blood flowing always adds to the taste, I say. Don’t worry too much. You’ll still be going down relatively whole. I wouldn’t want you to miss your own digestion.”

First it was a matter of chewing on him. She lined his back with bloody dots as she indented his flesh over and over with those deep, harsh gnaws. His ribs could hardly stand the pressure, even beneath the muscle over his form. They crunched up like vegetables, splintering beneath his skin as she compressed him with those non-fatal bites. To her, they were barely a tease, the tiniest little nibbles, but no matter how delicate she was, she was still a dragon. Her teeth were made for crushing, for ruining and destroying, and his body got more and more mangled by the pressure as she worked him over. He must have had dozens of small, individual wounds by the time she was done working him over, all of them bleeding in thin streams, smearing along his back until his skin was fully stained, bathed in his own blood. Of course it could get worse than that. He didn’t even stop to wonder. At least he was starting to go numb. So much so that he hardly noticed her whirling the tip of her tongue around his thigh until she pulled taut and tugged his lower half closer to those knight-mashing teeth of hers.

Maybe he could have pulled away in time, but he couldn’t find the willpower. She’d already taken so much from him - his dignity, his livelihood, his legacy. His flesh hardly had any value anymore. Not that he didn’t still roar with pain as she crunched through his leg, or mostly through. The flesh was torn, the bone mangled, but there was still a shred left keeping the limb technically attached, still a part of him. His leg gushed hotly, pouring red all throughout her jaws, letting it trickle down over her chin like she’d just bitten into a juicy cherry. A little nudge of her tongue was all it really took to sever his poor leg, sending it sliding past him, nearly kicking him in the face as it went as if to further insult him. He didn’t watch it descend into the embrace of her throat, but he heard it just fine. A wet, messy gulp sent it away to meet his sword arm, leaving him bleeding out upon her tongue, that excess crimson pooling over her taste buds while she drank it down in ghastly slurps. Despite the heat, he was starting to feel colder, starting to fade, starting to weaken, and he might well have passed out for the last time if not for the sudden, firm slap across his face delivered with the tip of her flexible tongue.

“Oh no you don’t! Wake up!” she shouted, her words blowing past him like a hurricane force wind, bellowed up from within her throat. “You’re not going to want to miss what comes next. How many living people get to say they were swallowed alive by a dragon, hm? Not a single one! And you’ll see why.”

Smith gave one last wild scramble with everything that remained within him, every bit of diminished strength he still had. It accomplished precisely nothing, but the effort was there. She still tilted her head straight back, turning her tongue into a slope he couldn’t grasp, leaving him sliding down, streaking along on her saliva mixed with his own blood until his remaining foot got caught in the deadly grip of her hungry gullet. He felt it clamp down around his ankle, and he knew it was all over for him. Another firm [i]grip[/i] and he got sucked down deeper, deeper, his naked body cresting over the edge of her tongue and descending into the waiting tunnel. He was enveloped, encased in constricting flesh from all sides, feeling its slimy touch working him over as he got kneaded down towards the dark, where his gruesome death loomed near.

It was something like a massage, if a very forceful one, pressing in from all sides with that soft, sleek gullet, working into his wounds and squeezing even more blood from him, pouring it all down into her depths as the sound of gurgling and grumbling grew heavier with each inch he slid down. Once all went black and hopeless, the heavy slosh of her stomach sounded like a cauldron that had been left on too long, boiling over as its contents jumped up and bubbled as if in anticipation of his plunging arrival. His cries were hardly heard, even to himself, silenced by the fleshy [i]schlick[/i] of that passage rushing past him until he finally hit the bottom and pushed through the resistance to enter her stomach with a resonant splash.

It wasn’t quite as deep as it first felt, leaving him a puddle of digestive slime once he recovered from the initial [i]SMACK[/i] to the bottom of his gut. He’d probably been injured worse by the fall, but that hardly mattered anymore. [i]Everything[/i] hurt, and it was only going to get worse. The fluids were already flowing. He heard them sizzle as they smacked down on his bare body, coating him all over and sticking to him as they oozed from the surrounding walls. He shielded his face as best he could, trying not to let any of the vile fluids hit him in the eyes. Of course, that just left the rest of his body exposed. He had nothing to protect him, no armour, not even any clothing to keep those stinging acids off his skin.

Maybe it was better not to struggle. Maybe he ought to have just laid down and accepted the roiling gurgles of a dragon’s digestion system, so that it didn’t last as long. He could already feel his skin peeling, already feel that burning spreading all over his shoulders, his arms, his hands. It got into his every wound, front he small little punctures on his back, to the much more serious damage where his hand and leg used to be. It trickled through his bloodstream, burning him from the inside out, searing into more vital organs, bit by bit. Maybe he’d bleed to death before the real misery started, but for how his day had gone thus far, he probably wouldn’t even have that luck.

He couldn’t tell what she might have been doing the whole time. All was darkness and pain. Was she revelling in her triumph, leering at him, mocking him? He couldn’t hear her if she was. Or maybe she’d just slipped back to sleep, as if that battle never happened, content to transform him from a proud, sturdy knight into the sludge at the bottom of her belly, soon to be pulled deeper into her intestines. He was liquefying. There was no other word for it. His solid form softened for all the acids eating away at it, his skin burned off to expose everything underneath. The damage was beyond repair. He was doomed, even if he was whisked away by magic in that very moment. Nothing could save him once his flesh started to melt down into the rising soup that used to be his own body. He felt his nerves sparking out of function, and it was a small mercy that he couldn't feel any particular pain in his remaining hand or foot anymore. But there were plenty of other torments to sustain, as his innards began to pour through the open, burning acid wounds in his stomach and chest.

Meat fell from his bones as if slowly roasting over an open fire, semi-solid as it sloshed down to mix in with all the mess, leaving but scant few blood scraps clinging to his skeletal hand. His last leg was hardly present either, merely a stub, burnt away and dissolved into nothingness before. Naked as he was, his more sensitive regions were far from spared, blazing out in horrific pain and then joining in the numbness. With his muscles failing, turned to goop and falling from his bones, he couldn’t protect his face any longer. There wasn’t enough left of his throat to cry out, so he rasped as those juices overtook his features, burning into his skull and leaving his eyes to run and his jaw tongue to melt within his mouth. Eventually, there was no life but for the dying twitches in the meat that was once a fairly-respected beast-slayer, his lower jaw detaching from his skull, the last scraps of meat stripped bare from his cranium. The knight was truly slain in most gruesome fashion by the dragon he had travelled so long and hard to kill, and all without so much as interrupting the sleepy creature’s routine much at all.

Sapphire had since slipped back to sleep meanwhile, her head on her folded front legs as she snoozed off the digested knight, breaking up his bones with the harsh compression of her belly, separating his skeleton into little bites before passing them on. Once he was in her intestines, he truly was becoming a part of her, absorbed bit by bit while her body worked its automatic processes over him. She didn’t even have to think about it. She was having pleasant dreams while his painful demise came to a close, neither caring nor really noticing at all his agonizing end. Her snores rumbled through the cave, rattling the hard stone. He hadn’t been an especially filling indulgence, but it was so rare she actually got to have a taste of humankind.

Such meals only came when they particularly offended her, such as in this case. Maybe digesting him alive was a punishment a bit too harsh for his mere insolence, but he [i]had[/i] been trying to kill her, after all. He might never have managed in a thousand years, but such ill intent meant he was officially on the menu, and no one would ever hear of that beast-slayer again. Unless she saw fit to belch his bones upon his homeland, but that was much too far to fly for a simple insult. Much better that she slept him off, and never thought again of the foolish human who was now packed onto her gut and haunches as a small but satisfying contribution to her draconic bulk.