19 comments/ 48002 views/ 57 favorites Treasure By: Quietmahoganystorm Hey all! This is my first attempt at the Nonconsent/Reluctance category. It is an interracial tale between men of multiple races and a black woman. This is a stand alone story & I'm not anticipating a prequel or sequel. I don't have an editor, so I expect the complaints of "you spelled this wrong" or "your grammar sucks". Whatever – I know my short comings, and my biggest thing is making sure that the story flows and doesn't get jarred my screw ups. Without further ado... Here is Treasure. Blackness. I see nothing but blackness. My eyes search for light, but nothing registers. I blink and see absolutely... nothing. In this stifling darkness hands find me. Feminine fingers caress my skin reassuringly. But I don't know whose they belong to, nor do they tell me. A sudden whisper fills my left ear, telling me "Don't fight this. Please just go along with this, or he'll be so pissed." Fuck. I recognize that voice. As far gone as I am, my heavily intoxicated mind realizes that the woman I once had as a bridesmaid for my now defunct marriage is whispering in hushed tones about becoming willing. Willing for what? Cold steel suddenly grips my naked wrists and strong hands force my arms high over my head. The temperature feels like it has dropped by about ten degrees. Maybe its my anxiety over this complete mind fuck of a situation. The whispering has ceased and Misty's tender fingers are gone. A grunt of exertion assaults my ears, and fuzzy realization comes slowly to my mangled senses. My friend Misty has set me up. She talked all night to some guy and I thought when they briefly looked in my direction that they were just looking so he could see who she came with to party tonight. Or tomorrow. Not really sure of time at this moment. My nipples pebble while I make this painfully slow journey down memory lane. The only thing I remembered of the man were his eyes. They were gray – and looked like steel. I remembered a cold shiver steal over my spine from the look he gave me. It was something that I couldn't put my finger on. I think it was a look of ownership. Ownership of me. That seemed like some slave shit – and while my skin may be dark from ancestors who lived and died in such a peculiar institution, this is 2012 and it just won't go down like that. I never met this man, but I knew his name was Joseph. Or Peter. It was the name of some saint – no, it was Andrew. He had such a nice name. Not the kind of name associated with a deviant psychopath. Being in my own head is really fucking with me, because I can hear breathing, and the removal of clothing. I can feel the muscles in my arms and neck tensing because of the extreme position that they are in due to these damned restraints. I can also feel that my dark body is naked, and that as drunk as I am, I'm simply not drunk enough to not know what the fuck is about to happen. To know that I can't stop it. That realization, coupled with the whispered plea for me not to fight by a person who has been there for me since our junior high outcast days is helping to deteriorate my mental capacity with alarming speed. Shit! I thought my cottonmouth feeling was because I was drunk as hell, but apparently wonder douchebag & his trusty sidekick, the bitch who fucking backstabbed me, have put a muzzle on me. This shit is seriously Hannibal Lecter – far the fuck beyond fucked up and downright dangerous. My eyes frantically search for something to focus on and comes up with a big fat – nothing. Nothing but my other addled senses trying to figure this whole complex story out. Carefully, carefully I can piece together some music. Its something rock, something melancholy. I really just thought 'melancholy'? Wow, maybe my mind isn't that fucked up. At three sheets to the wind, words like 'melancholy' don't come to me naturally. Its usually just the random cursing, and stupid incoherent shit that rises from to my semi lucid mental state – which since my sham of a marriage has been happening more frequently than before. So if I'm able to think clearly, and know that I am in my body, and in my senses then that means a couple of things. A) I'm not drunk at all, but I've been drugged, B) Misty helped the guy she was with do this to me, and of course the final conclusion of C) he's gonna take what he wants from me and I hope to God that it isn't what I think it is. Apparently because me and The Almighty haven't been on speaking terms since my divorce, he's not answering my silent pleas for someone to stop the madness about to take place. A spotlight finally hits me and blinds me temporarily. I still can't see where I am, but the extension of my senses helps me to realize that I'm laying on some bench – a short bench where my ass is barely hanging onto the edge. I also realize that I am not alone. Mr. Andrew the Wicked has joined me in this cold room. He isn't alone though. As I look around the room, I notice that it is filled with men. White men. Some hispanic men. A couple black men. Several Asian men. All these men are wearing black, and holding a white candle. A burning white candle in each man's hand, except for Andrew's. Andrew is naked. He's pretty easy on the eye, except for that long hard erection hanging between his legs. That thing looks like a fucking monster. I hear whimpering again, and look off to my immediate right. It's Misty, but something is different about her. She's usually ebullient, and effervescent. She's a downright charmer – hell the woman works as a VP in sales for a pharmaceutical corporation. This isn't the same woman though. She's withdrawn, and not holding a candle. She looks like someone roughed her up a bit. Knowing her background in martial arts, I have a hard time reconciling this fact to what I can see. She's whimpering and maybe bleeding, and it's that sound that scares me more than these assholes watching my naked chained body breathe. Andrew begins talking to the group of men, but its in a different language. Misty apparently knows the language, because when he concludes his little speech, she is wide eyed and looks scared for me. If I could scream my damn head off I would, but I swear on everything I love that I can't. The muzzle coupled with the fear of the unknown & his wicked intentions have stripped me of my voice. Andrew comes closer to me, but he's holding a knife. His intent is clear when he brings it up to my face, then traces it down my naked form. If I move, I die. Painfully & slowly. The whole time this metal object outlines my breasts, belly and pussy, his eyes focus on mine – sharp gray to frightened brown. A wicked smile plays on his slightly plump pink lips and serve to show his eagerness towards my pain rather than his good looks. He places the knife down on the floor next to me, and his cold hands slowly spread across my body. I squeeze my eyes shut while his fingertips pinch, pluck and pull my already hardened nipples. They hurt so fucking bad that I whimper. The instant the noise passes from my lips my head is jerked suddenly back by my hair and his crazed visage assaults my face. "Don't make a sound." was his whispered threat. I cower at the violence behind his eyes and blink as the tears that formed in my eyes have finally spilled. I flinch when he removes his hand to gently wipe the tear streaks that leak into my ears. Soft kisses fall onto my cheek, next to my lips. His lips nibble from my chin down to my left nipple and a hand slides down to cup and roll a breast briefly before settling between my opened thighs and slowly stroking my opening. I am training my body to not react to his touch. I am determined to not get wet for this man. He is not deserving of my body, and should feel no right to be inside me in any way. His intentions however were that my body would be easily trained to do his bidding – and as determined as I was to not react to his touch, my body betrayed me. How does one begin to explain the war between the sensations of the body and the thoughts of the mind? How the hell does one begin to fathom the depths of despair when the last vestiges of hope to end this eternal and internal conflict result in the complete failure of all reason? Reason would dictate that I could control my body and its sensations. But the fact that this monster can make me so wet so easily, by playing with my cunt and licking my tits when I don't want to react to his onslaught leaves logic by the wayside. After mere minutes of toying with my prone shackled form, my hips buck and my stomach seizes, while my body tries to milk nonexistent ejaculate from his fingertips. He smiles around the nipple that he's still sucking on and brings up the two fingers to present the evidence of his masterful achievement of will over mind to the awaiting audience. The men murmur in agreement. One of the men asks Andrew a question, again in that strange language. Andrew nods his assent, and within seconds I feel a pair of lips gently kiss and lick the remanants of my arousal. I try to look down, but again, my head is jerked back violently. I lie still, staring into those metallic eyes while I feel the slight stubble of facial hair graze and rub against my sensitized mound while lips belonging to a man other than Andrew pleasure my girlie parts. I dare not whimper, or make a sound is the message clear in Andrew's eyes. My eyes slide shut and I come hard all over this other strangers lips. A third pair of hands, tickle and rub my side as a new mouth encloses over a nipple. A fourth pair of hands place a blindfold over my eyes before my mouth is forced open and a hard cock is slipped in. The hands, teeth, lips and tongues that touch, bite, lick and finger my various orifices and body parts keep me in a constant state of arousal. The man fucking my mouth shudders, and I feel his hot cum fill up my mouth. Andrew whispers to me, "Drink it, my sweet." Wanting to avoid further pain, I dutifully close my lips and swallow the seed down my throat. A mouth kisses me, and tastes the cum I just swallowed. My body is uncontrollable in the wild sensations of rampant sex that it imbibes freely now. Another cock fills my mouth, with a different taste, texture and smell. It is rammed repeatedly down my thoat causing me to gag violently around it, and I am turned on my side to vomit the remants of my nights meal of Chile Colorado and the cum I had just swallowed earlier. Hands soothe and caress me and that dick does not make another appearance for the night. Hours have passed by now, and my body is spent from the amounts of cum that I have given and received. In everything that has happened, no man has penetrated my pussy or ass with his dick. The mask is removed from my weary eyes, and as I adjust to the light, the men are back into their positions, with one missing. Misty is still looking at me forlornly, but there is a hint of jealously behind her eyes as well. If she would like to trade places, then my black ass was surely willing to do just that. Only Andrew is next to me. I didn't think it possible, but his dick was harder then it was before all that time had passed. The best way to describe this man's cock would be as a pussy breaker. It was large, cut, and had a thick mushroom head. My pussy was sopping wet, and even in the state that I was in, I swear that the only thought I had in my head was "will that monster fit?". I made the mistake of looking up at him, and he smiled at me. It was warm and genuine. He settled between my thighs and lined up his cock with my wet pussy. He leaned forward just before entering me, and whispered, "Don't hold back beautiful." With those words he plunged forward slowly and ceaselessly. He filled me up to beyond capacity. Once he settled his body inside mine, he paused so we could adjust to the other – him to my wet tightness, and me to his hard thickness. He kept those steel colored eyes trained on me, as he fucked me incoherent. I screamed each time I came, and I noticed that many of the men had taken their cocks out and were openly stroking them while Andrew fucked me. Soon, his dick was sawing in and out of me so quickly that it looked like a blur to my still semi-fuzzy senses. Suddenly his cock expanded as he pushed himself entirely inside me, bumping into my cervix. He grunted out loud, and I felt his ejaculate empty into my semi-willing body. Gingerly he stroked himself down to softness in my body, as I heard the groans and grunts from the other men in the room. Andrew bent his head down to my opening and ate the remnants of our cum out of my sore abused pussy. He brought himself up to me and kissed me fiercely before leaving me alone with the masturbating men. As each man got close to ejaculating, they would get close to some part of my still prone body and ejaculate on me. By the time the last man had finished cumming on my body, my face, breasts, stomach and pussy were covered in cum. My beautiful natural hair, which was braided into neat cornrows, were soaked. I couldn't open my eyes without the ejaculate running into them. I felt filthy. Feminine hands released the handcuffs and assisted me in standing up. Walking proved to be difficult, and Andrew came back into the room, freshly showered in a towel and picked me up to take me into the luxurious bathroom. He bathed my drenched body, and toke down my cornrows and washed my hair slowly and gently while nibbling on my ears. Once I had been thoroughly cleaned he placed a 1" thick diamond collar necklace on my neck and led me, naked save for the new jewelry, back into the room with the men with a hand on the small of my back. The place where I laid was an altar of sorts. All the men placed their candles on it. "So you are all intrigued by my little Tiffany?" was Andrew's question to the room. I schooled myself to not look at him, because I should have known that he would know everything about me from Misty. Andrew brought his head close to mine, and said aloud to the group that his beauty has pleased him greatly. "However. Li would do well to know her vast treasures." A handsome asian man of indeterminate age, and indescribable beauty came forward. "For your obedience Tiffany, you may enjoy as much time as you want with Li." said Andrew. His face never showed emotion, but his steel colored eyes had softened. Li took my hand and gently took it too his lips, staring intently into my eyes as he did so. It carefully grazed over the stubble of his facial hair, and just as I realized that he was the first man to bring about my most sensational orgasm of the night, he led me off to another room where he spent copius amounts of time bringing me to orgasm for the rest of evening. After hours of time spent, Li took me back to another room where Andrew waited. He was dressed in a pair of black silk pants. His body was simply amazing – sculpted and strong. I had a hard time standing up from the intense session with the very talented Li. "Did you enjoy your time with my friend, Tiffany?" asked Andrew as he poured some amber colored liquid into two glasses filled with ice. I didn't realize that Li had slipped out of the room until I heard the soft click of the heavy wooden door. Oh shit. I was alone with the psycho who allowed a bunch of dudes to come all over me. And he raped me. And made me like it. Fucker. What the hell did his crazy ass have in store for me now? "Um, yeah." I whispered. "When I ask you a question, you need to answer me properly. My name is Andrew or Master. I prefer Andrew because I find you quite...intoxicating. When I ask you anything, you answer me clearly and say my name. Do you understand Tiffany?" "Yes, Andrew." I answered. The whole time that this "conversation" happened, my eyes stayed on the floor because I couldn't look into his eyes. They pierced me and made me shiver horribly every time I looked into them. His voice was soft the entire time. It was a really awful feeling – knowing that the menace was there but not hearing it. Geez this dude could really mind fuck a girl. The room went silent before I felt him behind me. I was still naked, save for the diamond collar. Though I had been wonderfully fucked by Li, Andrew's mere presence was sending shivers not only through my body, but through my pussy. Jerk. I was thoroughly shocked to feel the coldness of the glass pressed against the middle of my warm back. His stiff cock poked my ass. I stifled a startled scream, because I wasn't sure if Andrew would force me to keep quiet. "Does that feel good Tiffany?" he breathed into my right ear. Feeling the coldness of the glass and the heat eminating from his massive frame, I shook my head in compliance with his question. I then felt the roots of my hair being jerked forcefully back and my body bent to his assault. "I don't read sign language, my little dark angel. Answer me." Again in that voice. "Yes, yes Master." I frantically answered, willing the splitting pain from my scalp. He smiled that devastating smile and let go of my scalp, trailing his hands through the long tresses of my raven hair. He took the ends into a firm grip and tugged my body close to his. His breath caressed my neck as his lips came closer to their intended target. The smell of sweet alcohol wafted up my nostrils, and made my senses go hazy. A hand that once held a glass stroked my warm tummy, again shocking my heated body. I stifled my scream, and felt him smile against my neck. The other hand, still clutching a cold glass, was brought close to my right nipple. The cold wet glass abraided my other exposed nipple. The feeling of extreme cold plucking and tugging on one nipple, while the other nipple was being rubbed by the cold glass, felt heady. My juices started to slowly seep out of my core. His chest shook lightly against my back as his nose picked up the scent of my arousal. "You are so responsive, aren't you sweetie?" whispered Andrew into the ear he lightly nibbled on. A breathy "Yes" emerged from my lips. The hand tweaking my nipple traced lightly down my abdomen and stroked my pussy lips. A sigh escaped my lips as my head moved to give him more access to my neck. I was too far gone into his sexually charged web to realize that I had given complete control of my desire and satisfaction to a man who was a perfect stranger. All I cared about was that this stranger named Andrew would continue playing with my body until I could cum again. I didn't worry about his troubling dominant edge, his quick flights of controlled rage, nor the pleasure he took in asserting his ownership of my very being. All I was was a slave to my own sexual desires. The knowledge of that should have woken up the silly slut that took over my body. Unfortunately her bitch ass was too busy getting some to even be bothered with troublesome logic. He was driving my body faster to climax before he suddenly pushed me over and slammed the entire 10" length of his hardness into my prone body. He slowly stroked my pussy, allowing my body enjoy the pleasure of the friction he created. Cold reddened fingertips fiercely gripped my dark hips as he rode the living hell out of me. One hand traced up my back and settled over my asshole before a thumb was pushed in. The same time the thumb entered me, my pulsating clit was being rubbed and stroked fiercely. Completely short circuited by the overwhelming sensations, my pussy walls contracted fiercely on his rapidly advancing and retreating shaft. He never relented, even upon hearing my screams of desire. The hand on my ass traced my arched back and gently fisted the ends of my hair to arch my back further for his pleasure. Hammering into me, he brought his face to my neck and breathed, "Is this how you like it pretty girl? Hmm? Hard fast and deep in that pretty brown pussy of yours?" Treasure "Oh fuck yes. Please make me come Master." I whimpered in response. "Come for me angel." was his empassioned response. I tightened like a vise around his cock and felt it expand and explode inside my body. I convulsed with the aftershocks of my massive orgasm. Before sleep completely took over my demolished senses, the last coherent message he said, "My lovely little treasure. I think I shall keep you for some time." Hours later I awaken and I am home. The sunrise beamed bright into my apartment bedroom, and forced my groggy eyes shut away quickly. I was in my usual sprawled position on my queen sized bed, and buck naked. 'Maybe the whole damn thing was a big fucking nightmare. Yeah, that's it. I had a bad dream from eating all those complimentary chips & salsa the night before. But it just didn't seem right.... Immediately sensing something was off, I noticed that a red, yellow and white rose was left on the pillow next to me, along with a pair of handcuffs, a blindfold, and that diamond collar. A note was left underneath all this, which simply read: "To my treasure". An indentation was left underneath the pillow, and it was still warm, and smelled of sweet alcohol. Thank you for reading everyone! Please give comments and feedback. Treasure Catherine struggled against the men that held her, snapping at a hand holding a length of fabric that drifted near her face, presumably to bind her mouth. Her long, dark hair fell in front of her eyes as she struggled, and she shook it out of her face impatiently. If they were going to tie her hands behind her back, so be it, but she was not going to be gagged like a muzzled dog. If she was going to die, it was going to be with every shred of dignity she could find, and dignity was hard to come by when you were trussed up like a holiday turkey for a dragon that was terrorizing your kingdom. Sir Henry stepped in front of her and gripped her shoulder firmly, halting her thrashing and holding her in place so they could bind her hands while she glared daggers at him. He avoided her gaze, and she spat at his glossy red tunic. Sir Henry, the "most valiant knight" of the King's Gentry, was the one who had gotten everyone into this situation. Magnificently drunk and hoping to rid the city of the dragon, who demanded a single virgin sacrifice each year during the harvest, he had summoned some other drunk men, clambered into the dragon's den on top of the mountain, and charged at the dragon, doubtlessly bellowing a war cry along the way. This would have been all well and good had Sir Henry actually managed to slay the dragon, but as it turns out, not only are dragons very large and capable of breathing copious amounts of fire, they also have fantastic hearing. Only Sir Henry was left alive to stumble wide-eyed back into the city with singed hair and sooty armor as a voice thundered from the mountain like an enraged angel from on high. "You dare try to slay me?" the dragon's deep, rich voice had snarled as smoke billowed from the mountain. "I have only wished to coexist with you humans, who have coveted my treasure and stolen my lands! I have been merciful, but know now that a single girl will no longer satisfy me. If there is not another sacrifice at my door at sunset two days hence, you and your miserable village will burn, burn, burn!" And so they had come to Catherine. Catherine had thought that she was practically untouchable, as her father was a duke and she was planning on marrying that year, (her eighteenth birthday was only weeks ago), but she didn't count on the dragon demanding a second girl. The first offering, given a few days prior, had been Brie, the nineteen-year-old daughter of a farmer. It was very sad but came as little surprise; it was often the poorer families in the kingdom that found themselves without daughters this time of the year. However, Catherine was quite shocked to find that after her, she herself was the only virgin over the age of eighteen left in the entire village. And now here she was. Someone jerked her bonds taught across her wrists, binding them tightly behind her back, and Sir Henry looped a length of rope around her neck. He looked down at her sadly, and she smiled brightly at him. "One day, Sir Knight," she said sweetly, "I hope you will have a rope around your neck as well." His eyes narrowed. "Watch your tongue," he said warningly. "I wanted this to happen just about as much as you did. You're nearly the only maiden left in the kingdom fit for marriage. I asked your father for your hand, did you know that?" "I hope he chased you out of the house with your own sword. He probably did. You would be afraid of an old man, you fucking coward," she spat. "Next time you decide to fuck the whole city over, do us all a favor and let the dragon eat you too." He scowled at her and slapped her across the face, his teeth clenched and his eyes wide with madness. "You whore," he breathed. "Don't you know? He was just waiting for someone to offer the right price for you to spread your legs." Catherine grinned, hiding a wince from the strike he had delivered to her cheek. "I'm sure that's what he told you. I bet he was very disappointed that he couldn't wed his only daughter to a the laughingstock of the kingdom." He grabbed a handful of her hair and brought his face very close to hers. His hot breath played over her skin, sour with the scent of beer, and she could see the prominent bags the color of bruises beneath his eyes. "If your maidenhood wasn't the difference between life and death for the entire kingdom, I would fuck you right now and put you in your place," he hissed. A vein was throbbing above his left eyebrow, just south of a mole at his temple. From where she was, his pores looked wide and sunken from sweat and sun, and a couple of grey hairs dusted his hairline. She laughed and he watched her with furrowed brows. His patience was really being tested, and she loved it. Maybe if she pushed him over the edge and he killed her or raped her, they would sing songs about Catherine Bastion, and how her sharp tongue brought forth the end of an entire kingdom. Not about Catherine Bastion, one of dozens of dragon-fodder. "I never noticed until now how absolutely ugly you are," she said brightly, once her laughter had subsided. "Maybe the dragon will take my virginity. I'm sure he's much more handsome than you are." His face went white with rage, and his free hand twitched over the handle of his sword. "You're nothing but a twisted little slut," he snarled. "Too bad you'll never know how twisted," she retorted, running her tongue across her teeth with a smile and narrowing her eyes. His eyes widened until she could see the whites and his other hand reached for her... Only to be swatted down by a gauntleted fist. Henry let out a yelp of pain and glanced up to glare reproachfully at another knight, Sir Richard. At fifty-five years old, Richard was the eldest of the knights, and one withering look from him could stop you in your tracks. He was wise, strong and cunning, and Catherine had known him since she was very young. "What are you doing?" he inquired, a very dangerous tone in his voice, though his face stoic. "Not good enough to sacrifice another girl to that beast, is it? You want the entire kingdom to burn?" "She was being uppity," he began, but Richard cut him off with a swift backhand to the cheek with his un-gauntleted hand. "She has every right to be uppity," he growled. "It's your fault she's here in the first place. Hell, I wish I were a magician so I could change you into a pretty young virgin and send you up there. If you had any decency, you'd be on your knees in front of her and begging for forgiveness. Lady Catherine's a good girl, and deserves more'n dying for the likes of you." Henry flushed scarlet and turned on his heel, marching away in a huff. Richard turned to Catherine and sighed. "I have half a mind to truss him up, roast him on a spit and toss him in the cave with you," he said, looking sadly down at her. "I don't suppose it'll matter. The man's ruined, the King won't so much as look at him. He's not going to be a knight for much longer." "He's still going to live," Catherine murmured darkly. "That's more than I'll get." Richard's gaze shifted to one side, and then the other, and then he leaned in close and kissed her cheek. As his lips brushed her skin, she felt a small weight being deposited in the folds of the sleeve of her sacrificial gown. It was a knife, she realized with a jolt in her stomach. She could cut her bonds once they released her if she played her cards right. "I have faith in you, Catherine," he said softly, tipping her a wink. "You've got a good head on your shoulders." Catherine's eyes suddenly began to swim with tears as the gravity of the situation hit her. She wasn't going to reach nineteen. She wasn't going to get married or move to a new city. She wasn't going to explore the lands out at sea that her father visited, or have children. Today might be her last day of existence. "It isn't your fault," she replied simply through the lump in her throat, turning her gaze jerkily down towards the floor. "You give that beast hell, you hear me?" he said quietly. Catherine bit her lip and nodded, and felt a jerk at the rope on her neck as someone began urging her forward. Richard put an arm to his head in a salute as she passed him, and several other knights did the same. Her father wasn't in the line, and she didn't blame him. No father wants to see his daughter in a procession to her slaughter. She fought the urge to burst into tears, but she felt a little braver with a knife in her sleeve and five knights saluting her passage. Acceptance blossomed slowly in her stomach as they led her outside of the stable she was being kept in, where the sun was beginning to break over the horizon, and they veered towards the mountain. It looked bleak and foreboding in the twilight, and she lowered her gaze. If she was going to try to escape, she had to keep calm. An hour later, her legs were burning as they marched up the mountain. She stumbled across a particularly burdensome patch of rocks, and a short old woman with sharp green eyes and long, stark white hair steadied her with her arm. "Wait a moment," she called to the rest, fiddling with something on her belt. She loosened a wineskin, jerked the cork out with her teeth, and held it to Catherine's lips. "Take as much as you'd like," she said, a hint of pity in her voice. Catherine nodded gratefully and sucked eagerly on the wineskin, cool, sweet honey wine gushing down her parched throat like an oasis in a desert. She pulled her head away once she'd had her fill, her tongue darting to the corner of her mouth to catch a stray drop. Her head began to feel pleasantly light, and she continued to saunter up the mountain with her leaders. "You're being very brave," the woman said kindly as they walked. "Not to be dark, but we usually have to carry the girls at this point. They're shrieking and crying and won't move." Catherine took in a deep breath and exhaled sharply. "Thank you," she replied, a little more curtly than she had meant to. "I suppose I'm just trying to not think about it." "My apologies, my lady," the woman said quietly. Catherine shook her head, a little drowsily. "You don't need to call me lady. I'm about to die. That seems kind of silly." "I know your name, and I shall call you whatever I please," the older woman said, a hint of a smile on her lips. Catherine smiled faintly back at her and focused on the ground. The wine had been refreshing, but it had also made her unsteady. She didn't drink very often. "We've arrived," the woman told her softly. Catherine stopped in her tracks and looked up uneasily. About a hundred feet away loomed the gaping mouth of a dark cave, smoke trickling up towards the sky from the darkness. Seeing it was like a punch to the gut, and she felt a quiver of dread run up her spine. She looked back at the woman, who was watching her sadly, and felt her eyes well up again with tears of horror. "This is where we leave you, I'm afraid. Would you like some more wine, m'lady?" A single tear rolled down Catherine's face and she nodded frantically, biting her lip. The woman raised the wineskin and she immediately drained it. Escaped drops of the stuff trickled down her chin and the woman raised her sleeve to mop it off, then gave her a nod. "Lucas, let her go. She makes the rest of the way on her own." "What if she don't go?" Lucas, a tall, muscular blond boy called suspiciously. Catherine glanced sharply at him. Lucas, though slow of wit, had always been someone she thought was at least a little fond of her, as she had bid him good day every time she had seen him working in the King's stables. Unconsciously, though she was not a vengeful person, she felt herself file him away in some sort of list in her brain of people who had let her down spectacularly on the day of her demise. The woman rolled her eyes. "Then we all die. She knows what she has to do," she snapped. "It's not as if the dragon will let her escape anyway. Untie her neck, give the girl some dignity." "W-what about my h-h-hands?" Catherine asked shakily, ashamed as she choked back the sobs that threatened to spill out of her throat. The woman gave her a very sad look and shook her head as Lucas untied the sloppy knot around her throat. "I'm afraid that's the dragon's order," she murmured. "He wants their hands...your hands bound." Catherine nodded, and the woman bowed low. "Thank you for being brave, duchess. We owe you our lives." "We owe you our lives," echoed the rest of the team, bowing. Lucas finished last in a drawl. Catherine gave them all a short nod and turned around, not wanting them to see any more tears spill over her cheeks. She waited until the sounds of their boots crunching on the dirt and gravel faded away and then slowly, slowly made her way to the cave's entrance. Her head was spinning from nervousness and intoxication, and she took in a deep, shaky breath. It smelled like cool, fresh water inside the entrance, and also faintly of sulfur and smoke. It also seemed to be empty. Catherine waited in absolute silence for a few minutes that stretched on like hours, listening to the water from stalactites on the ceiling drip into puddles on the ground. Her eyes felt as wide as saucers. If she could see herself, she knew what she would look like-a mess. Pale, quivering lips, shaking in her slippers, which were filled painfully with bits of gravel. If she continued to stand here in complete stillness, she was going to scream. She could feel it building up in her chest, trapped behind her teeth. The knife, she remembered suddenly, reeling drunkenly with the realization. But her hands were tied behind her-how was she going to use it? With effort, she slowly bent down onto one knee, and then lowered the other as well. She rolled her shoulder vigorously, feeling the weight of the knife jiggle in her sleeve, and finally heard it clatter against the ground as it fell free. She froze for a moment as she heard the noise echo throughout the cave, and after several minutes had passed, she began to shift her arms towards it, gritting her teeth with the strain. She was very, very drunk, much more drunk than she'd expected to get, and she let out a cry of anguish as her efforts sent her toppling onto her side onto the floor. "Ahhh," a rich voice purred from several feet to her right. "What have we here?" Catherine froze, tears trickling down her face. The sound of something shifting filled the cave, and she closed her eyes tightly as she heard it approach. It was so close to her that she could feel its breath playing across the exposed skin of her shoulders. "Oh yes, another offering from those pathetic people," he sighed, almost grumbling to himself. Something rough and talon-like hooked under her arms and gave a jerk, rolling her onto her back. She bit her lip and slowly opened her eyes, and what she saw made her feel faint. The dragon was nearly twenty feet long-maybe thirty feet including his long, thrashing tail-with dark emerald-hued scales, a long neck and eyes that were a wild, bright yellow-green with a deep crimson rim around the edge. His teeth were sharp needle points in his face and his pupils were slits that were black as pitch in those brilliantly green eyes. His thin, scaly mouth parted to show more teeth as he eyed her, and a low rumble escaped his throat as a long tongue about the length of her torso snaked across his lips. Catherine's mouth opened in a perfectly silent scream. "Oh my," he droned. "Aren't you delectable? Let me see you," he continued, trailing off and sliding a talon beneath the hem of her gown's neckline. With a slight tug, the fabric ripped, and he parted it down to her legs, baring her body as Catherine let out a hoarse cry. She felt her face grow hot-nobody save for her nurse had ever seen her naked, at least not since she was a baby, and right now she was completely exposed. The dragon inhaled slowly and brought his face close to her skin, his tongue skimming the length of her belly. Catherine jerked at his touch, a moan escaping her lips as his hot, wet tongue caressed her body. "You are simply perfect," he groaned. "Is that honeyed wine I smell on you?" Catherine nodded jerkily, feeling simultaneously as if her body was floating away and as if it was lead, affixing her firmly to the ground. She gave her arms an experimental tug, but to her dismay, they were firmly pinned to the floor by her back. "A beautiful, delirious virgin sprawled out on my floor," he purred, those scaly lips curving into something that may have been a grin. "It seems too good to be true, doesn't it?" His tongue slid up her inner thigh and Catherine inhaled sharply, a million wonderful sensations blossoming from his touch and warming her from her toes to her fingertips. Her bare skin was becoming fever-hot to the touch, and the cool air of the cave raked over it like ice. He paused at the sweet spot between her thighs, probing at her lips, and then he slowly, so slowly, slipped the very tip of his tongue inside of her. "Ahhh-ah!" Catherine cried, thrashing beneath him as his hot tongue slid another couple inches in and gave a delicious sort of squirm inside of her. It was a little painful, but mostly felt slick and full in a way that made her want to scream. "What are you doing?!" she moaned, horrified by her body's betrayal. She let out a gasp as his tongue slid out of her. "Gods above, you are so sweet and tight," the dragon sighed. "I feel like I'm going to enjoy you very much." Catherine's tears were flowing freely now, and she tried to muster up the most courageous face she could. "Are you going to eat me?" she asked quietly, terrified and hopeless and utterly violated. The dragon eyed her with amusement and brought his face very close to hers. She could smell his breath and see his teeth, each one of which was probably as long as her hand. "I think not," he replied. "That seems like it would be a spectacular waste of a lovely woman, doesn't it?" Catherine froze and looked down the length of the dragon. Between his hind legs, something was stiffening, something that was the same light green of his underbelly, fleshy, and about the length of her leg from toe to hip. It was also about as wide around as her waist. She felt the blood drain out of her face. It might not be the dragon's teeth that killed her after all. "No, no, no!" she screamed, thrashing in her bonds. "That's impossible! That's absolutely impossible!" This was a nightmare-this was the nightmare to end all nightmares. "Hush," said the dragon. She shut her eyes firmly and choked back a sob, turning her head to the side as tears streamed down her face freely. Suddenly, she felt two warm palms on her waist, and jerked her head back towards him. There wasn't a dragon in front of her anymore-there was a man. Although he was slightly large for a man, he could have been a human, (albeit a seven-foot tall one), and his slender body was hard and chiseled with lean muscle. His skin was very pale. Pointed ears knifed through snow-white hair that fell across his shoulders and over his eyes, which rose up to meet hers. They were still the same wild green with slitted pupils, surrounded by a crimson ring. His face was ageless and beautiful in a disconcerting sort of way, with high cheekbones, heavy eyelids and elegantly pointed features. Catherine's mouth opened into a small, surprised circle. "Oh," she said softly, and his thin lips curved into a lazy grin, revealing straight white teeth with canines that were just a little too sharp. She flushed scarlet, realizing that his taut, muscular body was completely bare. "Look at you blush," he teased, and his hand trailed down her waist and in between her legs. His grin widened as he slid his fingers along the length of her lips, feeling her wetness and circling her clit delicately with a single digit. Catherine took in a little shuddering gasp at his touch, which was sending thrilling jolts of pleasure through her belly. His fingers were long, and the nails seemed curved like talons "Dear me. I seem to have gotten you a little excited." His lips parted as he slowly slipped a finger inside of her, his eyes half-lidded and hazy with want. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, stifling a moan as she felt his finger moving inside of her. "Very excited. You're so wet," he chuckled, bringing his face close to hers. "Do you want me to fuck you?" he crooned into her ear, his tongue, which was still slightly longer than it should have been, dancing across her earlobe. Her heart leapt into her chest with the indecency of his words. Treasure "N-no," Catherine stammered, turning her head away from him to hide the conflict from her expression. This mysterious, beautiful man was touching her in places that she had never been touched before, and actually, at the moment, she had never wanted anything more. But he's a dragon, she told herself firmly, her conviction wavering as he dipped his head down towards her chest and circled her left breast wetly with his too-long tongue, sucking the nipple gently into his hot, wet mouth. She stifled a moan, and he began to work his finger in and out of her with excruciating slowness, pausing before adding another one. She cried out, her breath catching in her chest. "I don't think you're being altogether honest with me," he said gently, watching her tremble and jerk as he continued to pleasure her slowly with his fingers. His thumb moved upwards to gently rub her clit, and she let out a shaky breath as pleasure coursed through her body like a shock wave. Her blood was turning into honey, running thick and slow and warm through her veins. "The way you're twitching is mouthwatering, and your skin is hot to the touch..." He pursed his lips and blew a thin stream of cool air over the fever-hot skin of her stomach, and the sensation wracked Catherine's nerves like a livewire. "Yes!" she cried out suddenly, surprised at herself as the word left her mouth. The dragon paused, kneeling very close to her so his lips were brushing against hers with every word. "Yes, what?" he breathed. She opened her eyes, her body squirming against his. If she was going to die, she might as well enjoy a part of it. "I want you to fuck me," she whispered, cut off as he suddenly crushed his lips against hers and his long tongue snaked into her mouth. A sudden heat flared up in her stomach as he kissed her, long and slow, and she let out a noise of disappointment as he withdrew his fingers. He pulled away and brushed his thumb between her lips, and she opened her mouth obediently, tasting the tang of his skin on her tongue. He let out a shaky breath and grabbed both her ankles, spreading them apart and pulling her legs up so her feet were resting against his shoulders. Catherine jumped as she felt something probing against her slick entrance, and her belly did a somersault as she glanced down at him and saw his cock pressing against her. It had to have been nine inches long, and it was so thick-it couldn't possibly fit inside of her. "It's too big," she whispered, her eyes wide as she stared at him imploringly. "Shhhh-shh-shh," he said soothingly, releasing one of her ankles to caress her torso with his long, thin fingers. The tips of his nails scraped gently across her stomach, and she shuddered. "B-but, I've never...ahhhhh," she gasped as he slid slowly and tightly inside of her, pausing after a few inches to let her adjust. Letting out a low groan, he grabbed her hips, angling them towards his, and exhaled shakily as he pushed a little bit further in, not quite all the way. Agony made tears sting her eyes, but at the same time, a warm sensation was uncoiling inside of her. He looked up towards her, and the look in his eyes made her breath catch. "Please go slow," she breathed desperately, and he gave her a mischievous smile. "I'll take care of you," he promised gently, watching her intently as he pushed all the way inside her, buried to the hilt. Catherine let out a cry as he tore through her maidenhood, but the soreness was short-lived as he braced one hand on the ground and began to slowly, so slowly, slide out of her, until he was barely inside her. She gave a desperate little moan and he pushed into her again, this time a little faster. A twinge of pain coursed through her body, but was quickly replaced by a soft, jittery feeling, like a feather on her spine. He continued, all the while watching her with his half-lidded gaze, and gradually quickened his pace. "Doesn't that feel good?" he murmured, his mouth slightly open, light from the cave entrance playing off his teeth. "Yes," breathed Catherine, feeling filled to the brim as he pushed back inside of her. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of pleasure, working his hips a bit faster. He was rubbing against something inside of her, something that was making her tense and shake, something that was making sparks light up behind her eyelids. Her breath was coming in short, quick gasps now, and he opened his eyes to gaze down at her, a wide smile of surprised delight crawling across his lips. "Are you going to come?" he asked delicately. "Am I what?" Catherine choked out dizzily. But then she remembered feeling mortified as a teenager when a bawdy, drunk village girl regaled her with tales of her suitor at a tavern. Perhaps this was that feeling she was talking about, where her legs shook and... Suddenly, he gave a particularly rough, impatient thrust of his hips, and Catherine jerked and let out a strangled gasp as every part of her body constricted and then slowly released in shuddering, luscious waves. Her eyelids fluttered shut and the dragon paused, watching her as she shattered into a million pieces beneath him and writhed in place for a few seconds before going limp. He let out a low noise of appreciation, his grip on her ankle tightening just enough that his nails bit into her skin. "Oh," she whispered, her vision blurry. "Oh my God..." "You feel absolutely divine when you come," he growled, beginning to move his hips again. She flushed deep red, his wicked words sending a shock of anticipation through her. "Don't worry, it isn't over yet." Catherine groaned as he started fucking her harder, faster, until she was crying out with his every thrust. His lazy expression became one of covetous desperation, and his breath came faster and faster. Suddenly, he buried his head in her neck and exhaled shakily, nipping the skin lightly with his sharp teeth and collapsing on top of her. Although she may have imagined it, Catherine could have sworn she saw something like scales ripple briefly over the skin of his arms as he gasped for breath, and maybe his nails lengthened even more into claws, if only for a split second. In the throes of exhaustion, she felt him throbbing inside of her as something hot and wet filled her up. Her arms were nearly numb from the weight of her body leaning on them for so long, and covered with scratches from the hard floor of the cave. Her legs were also becoming very sore from the trek she had been on up the mountain, and she was still incredibly drunk. He stayed inside her for a few moments, his head nestled in the nape of her neck, the long fingers of the arm that wasn't holding himself up idly stroking her waist, squeezing her breasts. They were silent for a while, the cave completely quiet save for their labored breathing. "Ahh," he finally sighed, pushing himself up off the floor and bringing his face close to hers for a kiss. Exhausted and slightly delirious from wine and sex, Catherine kissed him back, her eyes closing wearily. "You are a treasure," he continued after he had pulled away. She winced as he pulled out of her, the pain in her body becoming much more real now that the afterglow was wearing off. He knelt over her, cocking his head to the side curiously. "Something the matter?" he inquired. "I...well..." Catherine stuttered. Nervousness made her hold her tongue-how do you tell your captor, who enjoys eating people of your disposition, that your bonds are too tight? She swallowed. The hell with it. "My arms hurt. A lot. I've been laying on them for quite some time." "Ah," said the dragon, as if he had forgotten she was bound up for him, straightening up and pulling her up into a sitting position by her shoulders while he straddled her legs. He was still stark naked, and Catherine averted her gaze. He observed the rope tying her wrists expressionlessly before meeting her eyes, the air of closeness about him fading fast. "I see. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to keep you tied up for several nights. As delightful as you are, you women have a wearisome tendency of doing incredibly stupid things while I'm sleeping. Running away, stabbing me with things, pocketing baubles they think I won't miss. I don't miss anything, in case you were wondering. I've fought hard for my treasure, and I've become closely acquainted with every piece." "I see," Catherine replied slowly, her brows furrowing slightly in puzzlement. When was the eating supposed to happen? Why was he talking as if they were negotiating an extended living arrangement? The dragon regarded her strangely, and then he grinned widely. "Are you wondering when I'm going to eat you?" he asked silkily. Catherine paused for several moments before nodding uncertainly. He laughed. "I'm afraid I won't be eating you any time soon-unless you misbehave and rouse my temper, in which case you may be eaten, or at least most certainly die. However, as long as you refrain from doing the three things I mentioned earlier, I have a feeling we'll get along famously." "Wait," Catherine blurted out. She really should just stop talking, she thought unhappily, but thanks to the wine, insanity just kept pouring out of her mouth unsolicited. "I thought you demanded a virgin sacrifice every year because they were a delicacy. Like roasted peacock. Or wine-filled chocolates." He threw back his head and laughed, and she bit her lip inquisitively. This way playing out damn near the exact opposite way she thought that it would. "You are a delicacy, but not quite a culinary one." He moved a little closer, and Catherine jerked back instinctively. "Although I wouldn't mind the taste of you on my lips for eternity," he sighed, that too-long tongue rasping across his lips. Catherine swallowed hard, and he stood, pulling her up to her feet. She stumbled drunkenly as her head spun, and he steadied her before hoisting her into his arms and walking with her through the cave. "Ah, I forgot about your current state of mind. You're still quite drunk, aren't you?" "I do apologize," Catherine said, and she did hear a hint of a slur to her voice, "but I fear that I don't drink very often." "And why did you change that this day, specifically?" "My friend gave me a knife to hide in my sleeve," she explained drowsily. She was so very tired, and his chest and arms were very warm, and his voice was oddly soothing. "I was going to use it to cut my bonds so I could do something to escape." "I see," the dragon replied patiently, making a turn in the winding tunnels. "And how exactly did drinking lots of wine play into your scheme?" "I don't really know," Catherine admitted. "I hoped it might have made me a bit more brave." "Ah," said the dragon. "I did see that knife on the floor. It's a fine blade. I think I shall keep it and add it to my collection." "That's alright. I hope you take care of it," murmured Catherine blearily, nestling into his chest. "It was my friend's." "Well, if there's anything a dragon is good at, it's protecting precious things. Here we are," he announced, and Catherine looked up tiredly. Immediately, her eyes widened. The cavern walls were bright with the reflections of gold and jewels, which were piled high as far as she could see. Chests stuffed full of coins lay open in a corner, and several gleaming swords were stacked up against a stone wall. A silver helmet with a tattered plume and fist-sized diamonds upon it glittered upon a heap of various golden statues, and opulent rugs and tapestries were draped here and there. She stared for several minutes, then glanced up at him. "All this is yours?" she asked incredulously. "Indeed," he said. He set her down gently, and the ground beneath her feet rang with the sound of shifting coins. "Hold very still," he continued, moving behind her to root noisily through a smaller pile of treasure. She obliged, and soon felt the rope sliding off her wrists. The dragon moved her hands in front of her and her hopes rose momentarily, only to fall quickly back to earth as she felt a pair of cool, metal cylinders encircle her wrists. She let out a sigh and looked down, only a little surprised to see that the shackles were made of gold. "Yes, the golden chains of King Irithen," the dragon commented cheerfully. "He had a great love for restraints, and his collection was unhealthily large. He was a strange man." Catherine nodded, a little perturbed but far too drunk to care. And a bit chilly. "Do you have any clothes?" she asked blankly. "It's cold in here, and I fear that you've quite ruined mine." The dragon grinned. "I'm afraid I don't, but I don't think you'll be needing any tonight, as far as I'm concerned," he replied. She felt her face grow hot, and he let out a short laugh. "You're adorable when you blush. Come here." He took another pair of shackles from the pile and attached one side to his arm and the other to the chain of her shackles, then knelt down onto a nearby rug, pulling her down with him. Laying down behind her, he pulled her into his arms. "Sleep, now. I usually put the girls in their own beds, but you are particularly soft and lovely and shall be sharing my bed tonight." The cool chains of the shackles brushed against her shoulder, making her shiver, but the warmth of his chest was intoxicating, and the beat of his heart was lulling, and she soon felt her eyes flutter shut as she drifted off.