The Dragon King's Obsession

TEN

KREON

“Strip,” I commanded. She made a show of slipping the satin robe off her shoulders, exposing herself to me.

Zora was not my favourite w***e. Her chest was too large and her waist too clinched. She was too short, getting to her level was more trouble than worth it. Yet, I had found myself in her embrace a countless number of times in twenty four hours. Her pale skin had a smatter of freckles and several bites and claw marks. Pink areolas and tiny buds pointed hard at me. Bony ribs that led to a patch of red hair covering her s*x.

Were hers like that also?

I gripped her waist, crushing her body to mine. She moaned, sliding her eyes shut and throwing her head back, pushing harder against me. I waited for a second, then two. I waited for the rage of lust to wash away my thoughts and consume my senses. I waited but it did not come.

Wrapping my arms around her neck, I slammed her against the wall. Worry flashed in her eyes. She moaned to disguise her discomfort, a low and grating sound. It did not come from pleasure. This was almost a routine for her. I wrenched away, cursing myself in the ancient language of my fathers. Where was the blinding lust?

“Are you alright, my lord?” She asked, her accent a thick and strange thing. My whores barely ever spoke to me and I especially preferred for this one never to speak. It reminded me of her humanity, an enemy that I should never take to bed. But I had fewer options.

Our females were gone. Less than a hundred of them existed and they were too precious to be used in the way we men wanted. I had prohibited my men from hunting the humans. Flight had to be cautious if done outside the mountains. We needed a way to let off steam and the human women, although annoyingly fragile, could accommodate us.

The humans had done this to us. They had killed us off. There were less than two thousand of us left after a hundred years of hunting.

I thought back to my little dragon. A fierce little thing. The prettiest green eyes I ever saw and the richest temper. She was beautiful. Her fierce attitude drew me to her like a moth to a flame.

I wanted to possess her, fill her, own her. It was the most savage desire, the primitiveness of an animal, my dragon. She had insulted us in the worst possible way and I had not strangled her to death. I had shared with her and she had scorned me.

Never had I visited my hoard to take from it. It was located in a place devoid of civilization, surrounded by trees and rocks and cloaked by three witches one of whom had given her life to make the spell permanent. I had flown through biting magic to get to my treasures, to get a special diamond that I had inherited from my father’s hoard. The green reminded me of her eyes and I itched to see it on her. Ached to see the green of her eyes enhanced by the colour of the diamond. And she had not worn it.

Thinking of her spiked my blood. Her lips were made specifically for my c**k. Her temper reminded me of a time when we had an abundance of females. Having to fight for their submission before completely dominating them made mating all the more fun. It was in their nature to rebuff an attempt from a male that could not hold them down.

My little dragon was like that. She was fighting me. Fighting this. She was strong but not strong enough to wrestle with but she was fighting me in a way similar to the female dragons. It made my c**k ache because I knew. After the fight, a female dragon would beg. She would pant and scream your name over and over again, clenching around you until it was almost impossible not to spend.

I shook my head.

“Get me Pixie,” I growled at Zora. My temper had run short. I had left my work to clear my head by getting lost in Zora’s body. All because of one human. I had worn out a w***e because of one woman. With long legs and bright eyes and fiery hair. Zora was the only girl with hair close to the fire of Mystique’s. She had a short temper with the other girls but she was ready to lick my feet if I ever demanded it. Mystique would fight and owning her like I hardened to do would be more satisfying for that.

Pixie sauntered in with a petulant scowl on her full lips. She was always ready. Bare, save for a pair of lacy red pants with a bow. She was my favourite w***e, wild in bed and not a pliant moaner. The only one who was never shy to voice out her s****l desires.

She waited for me to come to her like she always did. She played out this part. Where she would pretend to not want me until I went to her. Sometimes I obliged her and stood. Other times I commanded her to me. This time, I needed hard fast s*x to shortly forget the raging dragon in my chambers.

She sashayed to me, slowly, swaying her hips from side to side in seduction. I pulled her into the bed once she was close enough. Her body trembled as I pushed her beneath me.

“I thought Zora had taken my place,” She purred. She did not run her hands on my chest, knowing how much I hated it but she attacked my pants immediately. I grabbed her hands and pinned them above her.

“Careful, girl. Do not run ahead of yourself.”

“Yeah, right. I know I am your favourite, my lord. There is no purpose in pretending that I cannot make you harder than the other girls in a minute. I already know it.” She arched her back and her brown n*****s brushed against my skin, hard and straining.

I ignored her boasting. Imagine a foolish human girl thinking she had found a way to ensnare me.

I took my time exploring her body. Running my hands along her face and curves. I let go of her hands to use mine, gripping the two large breasts she carried about. Her breath hitched further, she threw her head back, thrusting them farther into my hands.

She rubbed her lower body against me, dragging her s*x against mine, slowly and deliberately, moaning as she went. Her eyes closed, her lips parted and her body quivered. I cursed myself as I touched her.

“Oh – yes – please.” She begged. It did nothing for me. If anything, it made me angry.

I abandoned all attempt at foreplay, sticking two fingers into her. She was wet and ready when I penetrated her. The slick heat of her body welcomed me like an old friend. She encased around me like hand-fitted gloves that stretched further as I lay into her.

She quivered, her beautifully rehearsed sounds faded to pure animalistic want but it was not enough. Her voice grated on my nerves. She begged too soon. Gave in too simply.

Her dark olive skin broke out in a sweat, her body quivered at her first release, writhing under me, moaning louder. She begged. Begged me to take her harder. To stop holding back.

“Oh, please, my lord. Please – “ She said but it was not her pleas I wanted to hear.

She reached climax a second time while I continued to strain. I was not close to being sated. I pumped into her to keep my mind distracted, my body free but something was missing. It was new and elusive.

Then I caught it.

Fiery red hair, defiant chin and the eyes. The eyes that shone. Sparked with emotions that lit her and made her burn.

The euphoria of having her pressed against me. The headiness of having her pant, of having my hands around her neck and my hands playing with her s*x. The perfect fit of her breasts in my hands.

Twenty minutes of penetrating the wench beneath me did not compare to the minute of having my hands so close to Mystique’s s*x, of feeling the sticky liquid of the arousal she denied me. Denied us.

It was the memory that brought me to climax atop my writhing w***e. She shivered, accepting my seed with grace, slackening into the bed. Her eyes were drooping as I pulled my pants violently.

A storm raged in my mind, pulsing, ravaging sane thoughts.

The idea that she had been sent into my mountains to ensnare me bounced around my head. Perhaps magic had been used to capture my desires. But no mage could cast a spell on a black dragon. How could they dream to know that I would be so ensnared by a simple look from a dirty girl? Yet, how could I have resisted? No dragon could resist pretty things and Mystique Hunter was prettier than everything in my hoard. She was more enthralling than my finest diamond. She enamoured me more than my first haul of gold ever had.

I had sent a letter to my witch. She would come and she would determine my obsession with consuming the human hunter.

I moved out of the back room of my w***e house. The other girls moaned louder as I stepped out, crying out like dirty human beggars. I strode out, put off by their whining.

I avoided going back to my chambers because of the girl. I went to the court, wondering what sport my subjects had invited me to. They invited me to their events every evening. They fell over themselves to please me but like them, my restlessness had grown out of the stillness of routine.

It was boxing today. Boxing with their dragon forms. I excused myself when the red dragon tore into the blue one as everyone had predicted. I was to make the flight to the children’s school in the west but my gut pulled to check up on her once before leaving.

White hot anger exploded in my chest. Wrath made my vision black and hazy. Her scent was over an hour old in the room and she was gone. I fought to keep my beast inside me. Letting him go now would mean letting go of my control. My power.

Incredulity wrinkled my brows. Who would dare take her away? Who was foolish enough to steal from me?

Walking to the balcony, I dove. My wings burst out as I shifted into my most powerful form. As a black dragon, I was bigger than all other dragons and I could breathe fire for hours without burning out or flaying my throat. This was the form I felt most comfortable in.

Splitting gave me the advantage of being in two places at the same time but it made me twice as vulnerable. My dragon acted irrationally without me and I could be killed as easily as a human without the beast.

I took a nose dive, letting my wings extend as I plummeted. I shifted midway, stretching my wings and flapping them. A single time and the another to gain momentum. My beast easily tracked her scent as I flew over to Dracoberg.

The people scattered about, having heard my roar of rage and there she was, with my sister and my First and a maid I assigned to her. Her skin was splotchy red, her eyes rimmed with tears. Her clothes were drenched with water, dress clinging to her cleavage. The primitive part of me exploded. Mine!

I rolled to stand, noting the pallor of her skin. How her tongue lolled out and how her skin burned. Someone rushed over with milk and I knew. The tea man looked guilty and it was him I approached first.