Princess.

Silky streams of caramel locks caught the flickering firelight and reflected it with the intensity of a painful beauty. The richly adorned head shifted; the rivers of chocolate strands winked in and out, danced in the dim glow, turned a sunny gold briefly before disappearing coyly again. Now a cheekbone was visible: an ivory surface tantalizing with the single smear across the young skin. Dark eyelashes, curled, fluttered once and rested again.

Darian blinked nearly in unison with her. The cave was cruelly cold, but at a time like this, he hardly noticed. Even the dagger points of the cragged wall he gripped with one hand did not seem to pierce his palm. Or else, his nerves had abruptly died and his mind refused to recognize all the blood coursing down his forearm like a river of black.

The west wind was whistling at his back. His impossibly tall frame filled the uneven doorway, cast a menacing jagged silhouette on the slick stone floor awash with seawater. Just outside his keen ears could make out the crash of vengeful waves throwing themselves at the obsidian cliffs along the shore until nealry several miles away; and his pulsing irises, a stunning tandem of vermillion and gold, scanned through the weakly lit scene with the ease of a feline.

His eyes inevitably strayed back to the statuesque figure lying at an odd angle upon the stone table. It resembled a bier more than a table, for it was crafted of a solid marble streaked through with veins of silver and rose and ebony. Each side was left uncut, save the carefully polished top on which she lay.

Darian risked a step forward, then another, then a third. He cocked his head to one side as her face came into full view. The lips, slightly parted, were damaged from blows and still bore the blacked stain of blood at the corners; her eyes, closed as they were with full and shadowed lids, were ringed with bruises beneath. The smudge he had first glimpsed besmirching her cheek originated from a fresh laceration slanting toward her chin. But though this was the first damaged offering he had ever received, he found that none of this detracted from her beauty.

Rather, it made him shudder in anticipation for her.

He flicked his eyes toward her wrists, which were cuffed and chained to the upper corners of the marble bier. Her slim and bare ankles were bound in a similar fashion. Now that he cast a thought toward the matter, Darian realized it was the only part of the picture that bore no peace, and no beauty but a perverted one. He had to avert his eyes.

At his side, his fist clenched, setting off the terrible cadence of the clinking scales on his armor. Each tinkle became amplified into a whispered shout across the sea cave.

Her rent gown of forest green velvet fluttered in his peripheral vision, then rustled. She was moving. Still he stood with his back slightly to her, his eyes shut securely, relying only on his hearing to see her slowly awaken.

Her first deep breath was ragged and jagged. It was followed by a gasp of realization, of desperation – she had seen the cave and the chains.

“Where am I?” she croaked.

Darian was not sure what his body was attempting to do, but he found his head was shaking.

Her voice cracked the second she spoke. “Please…who are you? Why am I here? What are you going to do to me?”

It was the same questions. Always the same questions.

Yet even in her parched tones, it was clear to him that her voice was oddly girlish and old at the same time – and it spoke of a tempting strength coursing through her veins. His bare shoulders shook once in an invisible shudder.

“I am Darian Draconis,” he said in a surprisingly even tone. Even warm. “As for your other questions, my lady, I am afraid they will have to go unanswered. All you really need to know is that you are no longer in…control.”

He swiveled now on his heel and approached the laden bier with measured steps. Yes, control. He was beginning to relish again how his footsteps rang crisply in even time in the misty air; and an even greater stab of victory struck him at the sight of her breast heaving with fear.

Her eyes were green – a shocking emerald green. One glimpse of them and his feet once more stilled.

“There is…” he began after a pause. “There is but one thing I would need to know. Before.”

Those mesmerizing eyes were locked on his. They were wide in anxiety, blazing like a witchlight, intense as a nightmare. “Before what?”

He ignored her. “What is your name?”

“No!” she cried out. “No. I won’t give you my name.”

He lifted a dark eyebrow. “And why not?”

She swallowed and said nothing. Their eyes flicked past each other and then locked together again, before she turned her head away, exposing the vein in her neck.

“Why not?” Darian repeated.

She shook her head in a dizzy motion.

“You know,” rejoined Darian rather conversationally, “have you ever considered it might be a tad easier for you if you simply accepted the fact that you have no control of the situation? That perhaps some small cooperation would turn you onto an immensely easier path? I am by no means about to proffer allowances to those who are defiant.”

A shudder passed ruthlessly again through his body, but the young woman seemed too thoroughly frightened to have noticed a thing; if she did, more likely than not she mistook it for rage. But the truth was that his skin was blistering on fire from the inside, and he was dying of the ache of his need – he had gone far too long without another sacrifice.

“Roxanna,” came her whisper.

A smile flickered across his face mingled with his suppressed pain. “Well then, Roxanna, how do you feel about your new abode?”

Roxanna blinked several times as if to clear away a haze of tears. She twisted against the clanking chains, to no avail. “Please. Send me home. I don’t want to die.”

“Who said you were going to die?”

A choking sob escaped her. “Isn’t that what you do to all the girls that are offered to you? You kill them and they never come back. The dust of their bones washes up on the shore centuries after they were murdered in your lair. And you – the dragon – you live on.”

Darian shot her a sardonic smile. “I must say, your detective skills are impressive. And, unfortunately, wrong. I have not killed any of those girls you speak of, not a single one.”

“Th-then – w-where are they?”

“Well, I never said they were alive, did I?”

The fear returned to her green eyes. Her ankles rattled against the steel cuffs frantically. “N-no…”

“Ah. I see. The little lady is confused. Shall we enlighten her?” He chuckled and clapped his hands together, sending a screech of metal scales across the echoing cave. “They all killed themselves.”

She stared at him for an interminable moment. Then he both heard and saw the deep breath she drew to scream – and in a flash he was upon her bodily, his mouth on hers.

Bound as she was, she thrashed violently under him against the passionate kiss. But he was unmovable, unbreakable, his hands like bands of steel gripping her neck in place and curving her head to meet his. Darian’s long, hot tongue then slid out over hers and behind her teeth, exploring and teasing the warmth of her soaking mouth. Roxanna was making urgent moans of protest and banging against his arms with her straining shoulders, all to no avail.

You will not die, he spoke into her mind.

Roxanna froze in absolute fright at the sound of his telepathic voice. Frantic thoughts were spilling graphically across her brain: How is he doing that? Why is he doing this to me? Why me? Oh gods, I want to GET OUT! HELP ME!

Roxanna, he said again. Calm yourself. If you do not, you will surely suffocate. Relax your body.

Please, she sobbed. Stop this right now.

At last he had to pull away to draw a deep breath of exasperation. “What must I tell you, you beautiful and dull human, to make you understand? I will do what I please with you and I have no intention of stopping. Therefore, you must have no intention of resisting any longer, if you retain high hopes of preserving your life.”

She swallowed once. And nodded.

Darian then bent down and began to strip. He had been wearing his usual black leather jerkin and leggings with bearskin boots; all those were swept off his sweat-glistened body and collected in an obscene pile on the cold stone floor. His tanned skin was coated with a sheen over his mighty muscles; he stood well over six feet, and the foot-long member now clearly in view frightened the young woman with its impossible girth and hardness. His gauntlets of dragon scales around his wrists stayed on – and for the first time, Roxanna noticed his nails were huge, opaque daggers black as obsidian. Claws.

A smile flickered across the breathtaking planes of his face as he returned his full attention to the girl. In one swift stroke he ripped her velvet gown from neck to hem clean into two. Her quivering, pale flesh, its surfaces unblemished save for a peculiar scar resembling a knife wound between her ribs, lay bare and glowing against the torchlight for his pleasure.

What he sought most was already exposed and ready. Her womanhood, seeming to throb in fear and anticipation, compelled him over the edge with its warm welcome. He stepped forward and pressed the head of his member against her core to feel its hot fluid already readying her body for him. He knew from experience that it was more from fear than arousal that his women grew moist; but it mattered not.

The girl could not seem to tear her eyes away from the morbid sight of his head pressuring her warm opening. He was pulsing already, stiff and ready, his tip a dark raging crimson.

Roxanna’s voice tried one more time. “Please…don’t rape me…I beg you. Please! Don’t do this! I – I am a virgin!”

“I know,” he whispered raggedly, and plunged himself inside her.

Roxanna’s tortured scream echoed jaggedly throughout the entire cave. Hot blood burst to life inside her, spilling wrathfully over his shaft. He had broken her hymen with one thrust and managed to penetrate her nearly halfway. The walls of her channel caved in on him desperately from all sides. With a muffled grunt he pulled back almost completely and then thrust again, adding another inch. She screamed again, louder than before. He was ripping past places yet untouched by flesh and still dry from her virginity.

Darian could not wait for her to adjust: his pressing need was too great, and it overrode any compassion or guilt he should have felt. Again he withdrew and again he thrust another inch, withdrew and thrust back another inch, another inch, each time eliciting from her breathless, piercing shrieks of pure agony. Seven inches of him had invaded her and still he had not gone deep enough. More blood was leaking hot and thick over him, coating him with a fluid that would help each next plunge become easier for him. He pulled out and burrowed in once more, twice, thrice, four more times – and he was inside completely.

Roxanna’s steaming body was clenched around him like a trembling fist. Burning tears were leaking furiously down her cheeks; she had squeezed her eyes shut against the nightmare. Darian’s shaft was well and truly inside her, pressing cruelly against her unused walls and stretching her gateway past the point of pain.

After a pause, her attacker began his assault again, this time with a set rhythm. Another push and his pulsing head was pressing against the wall of her womb. For the next several endless minutes he pumped steadily, withdrawing himself halfway and ramming back in completely. Roxanna’s insides throbbed sorely from misuse, and the lips of her sex felt they could cry out from the sensation of splitting apart. With every thrust, her entire body was rocked back in its chains, tearing the skin of her ankles against their cuffs. She clenched her teeth with all her might, but the dizzying sensations of her bleeding feet and her cramped thighs and her battered vagina were too much. It began with a whimper, then a choking sob; and then before she knew it, she was crying out again like a broken animal every time he slammed back in.

Darian lunged forward again to lift her head roughly to his by the hair. He gave her another deep kiss, tonguing the roof of her mouth down to the back of her throat. It was overwhelming and surreal, gagging on this mammoth man’s tongue while taking his shaft all the way up inside her.

With her mouth locked prisoner in his, Darian freed his hand and began to knead her breasts. They were sizable fleshy, completely smooth in complexion, and the nipples were already stiffened from the winter wind. He gripped one nipple in his clawed hand and twisted, making her gasp and cry out against his lips. The sound only aroused him further.

He moved his other hand lower to the place where they were tightly joined. Deftly his fingers sought her button of pleasure and flicked teasingly at it. She jerked and whimpered again into his mouth.

Like that, don’t you? he mused.

She seemed to come to herself again briefly. Get your hands off me, bastard!

His laugh rumbled deep into her throat. That’s not what your body is telling me, love.

He flicked his finger again and circled leisurely around her clitoris, rubbing it every now and then, making her writhe under his oppressive weight as much as her chains would allow. All the while he had been consistently thrusting in and out of her, pounding against the obstruction of her cervix. Originally he had not thought the human could take him, but now he saw he had been wrong; her body was betraying her, constricting madly around him, milking his shaft and drawing him in deeper.

A shudder went through him and he halted, holding himself perfectly still. And then pulled out. Her opening slapped closed with a lewd squelching sound.

Thanks the gods, he will not make me pregnant with his monster –

Ah, calling me names, now, are we? he chuckled. Not yet, love, not yet. In due time. Patience is a virtue.

Her breathing spiked again. Darian tore away from her mouth, only to plunge his coated and still pulsing member down there instead.

Roxanna’s throat contricted in another silent scream. Tears burst freely from the corners of her eyes again; they had flown open at the pain of the intrusion into her mouth, and now her glistening irises stared up accusingly at him.

Darian winked and smiled.

Please! Stop! I cannot breathe! STOP! I will surely die!

He shook his head, weary of her complaints. “Once more, my lady, I urge you to relax. You will not die…yet. For now, you must suck on me and lick me clean, like a good slave.”

His hypnotic voice compelled her somehow to obey. She found that if she forced herself to breathe deeply through her nose, it was not nearly as bad as it had first seemed. But Darian was merciless and sought only his pleasure; barely a moment after she had begun to adjust, he pulled out and thrust in again, slapping his head against the wall at the back of her throat. Her eyes rolled back, and she gagged with a loud belching sound and felt new tears spring to life. Her jaws stretched farther and farther apart to accomodate his girth, and in jagged desperation, she forced her compressed tongue around the side of his shaft to let more air in to breathe. The effect was disastrous: more aroused, he only sank himself in deeper, as deep as he could possibly go.

“Splendid,” he gasped. “You were born a natural, love.”

Roxanna tasted the bitter rust of the blood from her own hymen spillled all over his member. It was mingled with her own sweet and salty liquid from her vagina, the evidence of her aroused body’s betrayal. Darian rocked back and forth encouragingly, sawing his flesh in and out between her teeth, each time striking against the walls of her throat; his hot balls were slapping vengefully at her chin. When she could not seem to gag and suck fast enough, he seized her ears between his claws and smashed her face into his balls faster and faster, over and over again. The unbearable weight of him resting on her chest constrained her breathing even more. Her tongue floundered around, scraping at the surface of his penis frantically for escape, but only succeeding in sending him over the edge.

He gave a raw gasp and shuddered once, and then he was spewing burning hot liquid like sickly sweet melted wax into the back of her throat. Gagging, Roxanna bucked and thrashed her head, but Darian’s large clawed hands were buried in her hair in a second to immobilize her as he succumbed to the throes of his ecstasy. Stream after stream of his seed shot out of him, smearing her mouth with its sticky obscenity. Her nose was thrust up against the coarse black hairs around his balls; if she didn’t swallow now, she would surely die. This she knew without his telling her anything. She swallowed.

Yes, love, yes. Perfect! Keep on swallowing.

Rage overtook her, and she clamped her jaw down, hoping to sink her teeth into his flesh. But his meat was as solid as stone, and if he felt any pain, it only heightened his arousal.

Four minutes later, his loads of semen were still coming in at a furious, wanton pace. Roxanna felt her belly beginning to distend inside with the blazing heat of cum he had deposited in her.

Darian roared with the last jet of seed he shot down her throat. Then, panting, he lay still with his penis yet inside her mouth, resting his spent body for several more minutes. How terribly long it had truly been since his last woman! But he was up for a long night – possibly the longest night in his history, for he truly enjoyed this captive – and he would have to regain his energy for later.

At last he stepped back, sliding his softened shaft from the wonderful depths of her mouth. Roxanna’s jaw ached as he abruptly exited; milky cum spilled out and dribbled down her chin. Chuckling with an expression as warm as a friend’s, Darian swiped the offending liquid from the corner of her lips and slipped the tip of his finger between her teeth. She was too weary to resist, much less attempt to bite him again.

“That’s it, love. Taste my sweet love juices again. Swallow.”

Weakly she shook her head – and wailed brokenly at the sudden, violent pain exploding at the side of her head when he cuffed her with his palm, outstretched claws barely a hair from shredding her skin.

“Swallow!” he commanded again.

Roxanna took a deep breath through her shuttered throat, closed her eyes, and dipped her head forward to suck his finger and swallow. Everything tasted rancid and rotten now after the heat of their sex, and it took all her willpower to force down the rest of the cream from the mess inside her mouth.

“Perhaps a bit of wine would help it go down?” he murmured suggestively.

Roxanna could only stare stupidly at him, dazed in her disbelief. Wine? After all he had done to her? What game was he playing?

Darian cast her an elegant shrug. “I see. So the lady would prefer we repeat this process without refreshment.”

“No-o,” she croaked out. “A drink. I need…drink.”

Darian ignored her and turned, readjusting his dragon-scaled gauntlets and gazing at them contemplatively. Then he moved further away toward the shadowed corner of the cave, where the glint of metal in the now faint sunlight told of goblets and wine laid out on a flat slab of stone on the other side of the pool.

Roxanna’s panic crested. “No! Please!” she screamed, hating how she felt like an animal. “P-please, I beg you! I need a drink.”

“Ah…” The familiar odd smile flickered again across Darian’s face. “Much better. I’m afraid I could not hear you the first time, my lady. And here we are.”

He had returned, bearing with him two silver goblets engraved with the foreign slashes of the ancient runes. She eyed them fearfully, as if wondering whether the etchings held spells to her demise.

Darian chuckled – an eerie echo across the cave – and set one goblet carefully down on her flat stone bier beside her head, such that if she turned her face to the right she could just see it and smell it and breathe it. Dear gods, the tantalizing smell of rich, aged wine was going to her head. She felt faint. No water would slake her thirst: she wanted this wine, this wine only and no other.

“Please,” she begged again. “I must drink.”

Darian took a deep draught of his own blood-crimson wine and cocked a brow at her. “I do not understand. You requested wine, my lady, and I have presented you with an ample supply. Why do you not join me?”

She ground her teeth in frustration. That fragrance, oh, that aroma! Never before had she felt such a pull to one article of food. What had this bastard put into the drink to tempt her so? “I cannot. You have chained me!”

The next thing she knew, she was blinded by the warm slash of Darian’s wine thrown in her face. She gasped for air.

“You wanted a drink. There is your drink, bitch. You are my slave now, and my slave will do as I say.”

Roxanna willed herself not to cry. In her entire life, she had never cried. Not until this day. This monster, this bastard, was the only man alive who had seen her open tears. In the end, the pain and the humiliation overwrought her with emotion, and she expelled a breathless sob.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered. “Why me? What are you doing to me?”

“I warned you.” His voice was thunderous, formidable. “You must not ask such questions, lest you risk your own neck.”

She quivered and uttered nothing: it was a silent plea.

“Very well, then.” His tone had lowered to little more than a rumbling mutter. “I told you before my name is Darian Draconis. My surname – as well as my appearance – would speak clearly to my heritage. I am one of the last descendants of the shapeshifting sorcerers. My direct ancestors were given to the strain of dragons; thus, I possess the claws and the scales, and the fearsome strength and eyesight. But I am weakening by the decade, and I must find a partner, a true mate, who will bear my offspring, or the sorcery will be lost.”

He leisurely approached her stone table and picked up the full goblet by her head, flashing her a sardonic smile as he drained it before her eyes. He set the goblet back down in exactly the same place and resumed his story.

“Why you? – you demand to know. It was a fairly easy choice – that is, once I had spotted you. In flight over the wilderness of your kingdom, I espied you from above as you rode through your dark forests, pursuing a white hart. I knew instantly that you possessed the spirit that all my previous women had lacked. You had strength, you had fury, you had the draconian flame within you. And, as I pray to the gods that I am right, you would be the only one to survive this night to bear my child.”

But you said the other girls killed themselves…

“Aha, an interesting point,” he replied conversationally to her private thought. “And that is true. I did not lie to you in the least. Those lasses I took over the last few decades at first seemed strong enough, but I had overestimated them, and their strength had failed. At the first chance I gave them to have a choice, they chose death instead of me. They wanted the dagger over life.”

And so would I.

“I seriously doubt that, my lady.”

Her lips had grown cold and white. “I hate you.”

“See? This is excellent. Shall we continue?”

His friendly discourse was by no means a question. He proceeded to slash the shredded bits of her gown still hanging from her shoulders, and the fragments fluttered to the ground, leaving her completely nude.

Then he chanted something under his breath in the deep, guttural tones of his ancient tongue, and with a flick of his hands, Roxanna was lifted bodily into the air and flipped over, then set down again on the table with the steel cuffs locking back in place over her wrists. This time she was bent over the narrow end of the stone table with her ankles spread and latched securely at the corners near the floor; her distended breasts were smashed against the unforgiving surface of the marble. The position was starkly more humiliating than the first spread-eagle, for she felt a thousand times more vulnerable, more exposed, presenting her orifices without being able to see at all what was going to happen to her.

“Well, this is an improvement…but it could be better,” Darian noted, nodding sagely. He snapped his fingers, and this time the chains round her wrists rattled and groaned and then flew into the air to affix themselves to the crevices in the stone ceiling. Roxanna gasped and gave an involuntary cry as her arms were stretched up over her head, pulling her body in opposite directions with just enough force to strain her quaking muscles. The chains tightened one last time, and she felt her cuffed feet leave the ground. Her toes now dangled two inches or so above the solidity of the cave floor.

“Precisely what I wanted. My magic has not left me completely, after all,” said Darian.

There was a rustle of skin, and then an agonizing silence that lasted for eternity. Roxanna was too far stretched out to be able to strain away from whatever was coming for her.

Darian positioned himself at the girl’s buttocks, pausing to admire their finely sculpted beauty. He could not resist digging a hand into one of her cheeks and squeezing it; his claws left angry scratches across the firm flesh. Roxanna flinched and choked down a whimper.

Inspired, he seized the ruined sleeve of her gown from the pile of discarded clothing and ripped it in half. One part he used to wipe clean the slit of her vagina, making her shudder in spite of herself. With a low laugh he reached over and stuffed the soaking rag of velvet between her sore jaws. Roxanna moaned in futile protest at the taste of blood and fluids again on her tongue, but the sound was effectively muffled; and before she could spit it out, Darian had clamped the other half of velvet over her mouth and knotted it tightly behind her head.

“Now,” he cooed into her ear, “scream all you like, my love. I love to hear you scream into the taste of your own love juices. Go on and scream.”

Her green eyes burned. Bastard! I will not scream.

“We shall see.”

He returned to her rear and without further ceremony entered her from behind. Roxanna screamed.

Her canal was impossibly tight again even after its earlier abuse, and enthusiastically, Darian grabbed her by her voluptuous hips and drove himself deeper inside. He went at a steady pace, not furious but rather methodical, yet still faster than his previous rhythm.

Roxanna didn’t know what to make of the queasy feeling building up inside her at the pit of her stomach. Darian’s shaft – somehow rock hard again – taking her from behind stimulated her in places where she had not been touched before. If it was even possible, it felt as if he had grown on every side. The ribbed surface of his flesh inside her caressed her sensitive walls, rubbing every square inch again and again. She writhed and struggled to draw him in deeper despite herself and her own fear, but if Darian recognized her signals, he studiously ignored her. He lifted his left hand to molest her free breast and to tease the puckered nipple with his grazing claws, while he kept his right hand in an immovable grip on the curve of her waist to urge their rhythm on.

Darian had penetrated her so deeply now that with each upward thrust, Roxanna was lifted another three inches into the air, resting solely on the solid head of his penis. Her hole was straining even now to accomodate his ever increasing width with each new push inside her. The first time he had entered her, he had seemed just wide enough to cause discomfort to her dry and virgin womanhood; now he was swelling, pulsating, the diameter over two inches across. The head was an obscenely massive knot – even larger than it had been when it was gagging her throat – and it scraped against her womb and ripped past the sides of her walls every time he pulled out and rammed back in. There was something perversely titillating about the lips of her sex meeting his balls with each stroke, slapping against each other, creating a repetitive squirting sound.

Then without warning, he grunted and grabbed her hips again savagely with both hands and began to pump away with abandon. Roxanna was screeching and sobbing again into the gag for him to stop: it felt like he was shredding her arms from their sockets, pounding away at the wall of her cervix mercilessly. If he didn’t stop, she felt her womb would tear apart.

“Spread open wider, bitch,” he growled.

When she didn’t respond, he seized her by the upper portion of her thighs and parted the lips of her vagina wide for his invasion. There was another squelching sensation, and then a pop – and his balls were in.

Roxanna shrieked out every last breath she could muster. She didn’t know how much more of him she could take. The pain was bestial and surreal. Darian’s fingers were on her now, rubbing her clitoris back and forth at a furious rate, and once more her body betrayed her. This time she jerked violently and swayed from side to side, every muscle convulsing and screaming along with her at the blasting intensity of her first orgasm.

Simultaneously Darian let out a roar – a dragon’s roar – and plugged himself straight up into her womb, flooding her gates with the raging fire of his cum. Roxanna’s canal clamped down on him in perfect unison with the rhythm of his spurts, and as the pulsing of his semen inside her aroused her to an animal frenzy, her own tightness around him made his pleasure crest to a blinding ecstasy.

The quivering of his balls buried inside just past her entrance hurled Roxanna from her first orgasm into an even greater, more mind-blowing climax. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her mouth frothed over the gag and she screamed again and again.

Without regard for her biting chains, Darian yanked her body against his to hold her still in the air while he finished his own climax. Each fresh blast of his seed was hotter than the last, searing the girl’s insides with a pain so raw and blinding that it crossed over into pleasure. The rivers of his semen squeezed against her walls with a crushing force and were already streaming through her opening and down her thighs, burning her skin with white-hot arousal across its path.

It was a full minute before discomfort began to filter through her pleasure. Coming down from the peak of her climax, her senses were returning, and now she could hardly believe what she was feeling – Darian was still steadily shooting jets of thick white cream into her, and he was swelling. It was no longer his cum that pressing against her walls, but his own growing flesh. She gasped and panted rawly for breath. He was approaching three inches’ thickness on all sides and showing no signs of stopping. Almighty goddess help me! she screamed to the heavens. If he didn’t stop, he was going to destroy her insides completely.

At last, at long last, he stopped.

Roxanna couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even move. The slightest twitch of her arms sent flood after wracking flood of pain through her body.

Darian’s eyes were closed, and his breath was coming hot and heavy against the back of the girl’s neck under her rich caramel hair all matted with sweat. He crushed her body to his chest with his unbreakable arms; he was completely unaware of her pants for breath and her silent shrieks of agony. All he knew was that he was in heaven. Having had his second orgasm in a row, his shaft had swollen to an obscene girth, and it would hurt both of them if he pulled out of her immediately. But more importantly to him, he didn’t want to lose one moment of feeling her incredible velvety wetness surrounding him.

He must have stood there a full ten minutes, supporting her body entirely in his arms, wrapped up in his bouts of ecstasy. Finally he felt his cock begin to shrink to its normal size. It was still not as small as when he was not aroused; for in a state like this, from hereon his penis would be raging and hard as a rock the whole night through. With a reluctant sigh, he began to pull out.

Roxanna bit down hard on her bottom lip till her teeth drew blood. Darian was still too wide to withdraw from her; he was hurting her yet with every inch he removed from her vagina. Despite all her efforts, a small whimper escaped her.

Darian gave a low, indulgent chuckle. “Well. That was…relaxing. Such an afternoon delight. It did seem to me that you equally enjoyed yourself, princess.”

She shut her eyes against his mocking laugh and weakly rocked her head back and forth in denial. No matter what she said, the pain and the guilt and the utter humiliation would never leave her for the rest of her life. She had had her first orgasm, not with a loving husband in bed on the night of her honeymoon, but rather being raped by a sadistic dragon sorcerer while she was in chains in the depths of a secret cave. Thankfully, the presence of her gag saved her from any need to speak.

Darian snapped his fingers, and the silver ewer of red wine from the table across the pool flew over the distance into his hand. Leisurely he refilled his rune-etched goblet and downed two servings before wiping his mouth on the back of his large hand and setting down the ewer on the ground by him. He leaned forward, the twisted little smile playing at his mouth again.

“My deepest apologies if at present you seem to disagree that this is the best night of our lives. But I cannot deny that I fully intend to make it the best of mine, and so I have no intention of stopping.”

Please. She sobbed, hating herself fiercely for begging. Please, no more. Let me go. Please.

“Hm…perhaps your lovely little pussy could use a rest, some time to rejuvenate. However, I have a problem, and I need to solve it – quickly.”

He gestured down to his manhood. It was erect…again.

To be continued…

Author’s Note: I am really considering continuing this series, possibly to include Roxanna’s pregnancy. There will be a lot more hardcore in the second part and some unexpected confusion/romance in the third. If you have any more suggestions, please comment below. =)

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