Unicorns and Dragons · Part 2 (2/2)
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ms and rubbing down to my wrists, making me recall each painful block. I tried to remain silent, but could not avoid whimpering when Syrin brought his strength truly to bear. He moved down to manipulate my legs, stretching them at the joints and feeling the stocky muscles there with probing claws and coiling tail. Then he carefully turned me to my stomach, sitting on my legs. The blankets were not nearly cushion enough in my sensitive state.
My back was not pained, but it melted under his skill and power and his claws encircled my flanks, gripping and squeezing and spreading them. He ran his fingers through my tail, and massaged the scalp of my mane all the way to my horn, lying with his chest atop my back so that I could feel his entire weight holding me down, and his hot breath on my forehead. "Are you feeling better now, slave?" he whispered, curving his neck so as to speak directly into my ear, no matter how I turned it. "Yes, Master," was all I could say. He turned me over to my back, covered me, and let me sleep.
The next morning the dragons did not immediately break camp, but instead set V'heress, the magus, to watch the slaves while they held a combat practice. I sat up in the wagon to watch as Syrin drove them harshly through their paces, and most of them threw angry stares in my direction for bringing his anger onto them. He drilled them for an hour and a half before leaving them to spar amongst themselves, coming over to me. He went through the usual precautions a slaver would go through when transporting; undoing the hobbles so I could walk, attaching a heavy chain leash to my collar, and manacling my hands behind my back.
Syrin hoisted me into the air with one arm, setting me down on my hooves, and walked me into the practice area. He drove a long metal spike into the ground and chained my leash to it, so I had about twenty feet of radius in which to walk. Then he freed my arms. "Stretch out and warm up, slave. Now we have some time to see how good you really are," Syrin ordered. I complied, watching my odds. I was still wearing the bridle, so it would be very hard to use any of my magical powers. If I killed Syrin, the dragonmage would hold me while the others would close in with their spears and kill me off. Syrin didn't give me any time to think about working the spike out of the ground.
I came out of the match a singed mass of bruises. Syrin, like all dragons, took too long and was too obvious about breathing fire. His flames never more than licked me while I flipped aside and inside his guard to stab at him. Once he quit bothering with his fire, his style of fighting was just too solid for me to defeat; he had too much reach over me, too much strength, and enough speed and skill to be invincible. He pinned me once, honestly, at about twenty minutes into our fight, his needlepoint teeth pricking my neck until I slapped the earth.
He pinned me again once by yanking on my chain, but at the end of the match, panting for breath, he almost walked right into my horn and I had to pull back to keep from killing him. That ended combat practice for the day while V'heress went about cleaning up the nicks, scrapes, and punctures the dragons had accumulated. At least I knew that if I could tire Syrin out by somehow surviving the first half hour of combat, I might win. He washed me that night in a basin of water and massaged me again. Even though he was dotted with bandages from the half-magically-healed horn-wounds, his technique did not falter. He had me crying and begging for him to stop and continue alternately.
He halted only when my wounds were fully treated and I was limp and unmoving in my bonds. Grinning down at me, he tucked the blanket over me, and went off to his own bedroll. The next day was punctuated only by a minor slave revolt, quickly quelled with a few words by V'heress, and the skirting of a small city towards evening. By the Firebird mountains just now coming into view ahead of us, I determined that the city must be Peaceknot. It was primarily a trading point, but the Slavers Guild was not welcome there. If I was to escape and reach it, I would be beyond Syrin's taloned grasp.
I tested my manacles as quietly as I could that night, but they were as binding as they had been before, and I dared not make the noise that breaking them would cause, were I even able to do so. The morning brought another combat practice to the band of dragons. They drilled in even more earnest this time, as Syrin had threatened to throw any slackers into the ring with me. I strove to remain relaxed, not hint of my plans through body language as Syrin removed the hobbles and chained my hands behind my back. He attached the chain, and set me on the ground again, while I concentrated desperately against the silver bridle.
Syrin slowly walked me as I gathered up my power, fighting the damping, and unleashed The Unicorn's Charge. It took almost two seconds for me to cover the hundred yards of the charge, yanking the chain and spike out of Syrin's hands. He cursed and set off after me while I ran for Peaceknot. Magic touched me but I made it out of V'heress's range, dashing and gulping air. The other dragons slowly came after, a few staying to guard the other slaves. I led Syrin on a chase for over three miles, and if I had not been running with my arms chained behind my back and twenty feet of heavy chain trailing behind me, I would have outdistanced him easily.
His long legs gave him enough speed to finally catch up and grab the chain, hauling me down to earth. He boxed my ear once to quiet my struggles while he wrapped me in the chain and slung me over his shoulder. Miffed, he carried me back to camp amidst the hissing chuckles of the other dragons, amused at the mighty Syrin almost losing a slave. I caught a look at his eyes; they had his incinerator intenseness, but it wasn't anger that I saw. No doubt he saw my defiance in my eyes as he stared at me. He broke off, looking around at the rest of the dragons who were packing up, and ready to begin the days travel. He spoke quietly, to make sure the others would not overhear.
"I cannot blame you, slave, for your actions. I would have done the same in your position. Still, you must be punished, so that you will learn who your master is." With that, Syrin tossed a chain over a tree branch, hauled my arms above my head, and locked the cuffs about my forearms to the chain so that only half my weight rested on the downward-straining tips of my hooves. The whip he uncoiled was more like some heavy vine made of leather, and he took the time and care to caress my cheek with it. Syrin demonstrated to me what a Guildmaster of the Slavers can do with such a weapon. He beat my back and legs, leaving dark red stripes that turned black on my white hide.
The whip was too heavy to crack, it did not warn me of its approach no matter the vast strength Syrin put behind it. I was determined not to cry out, counting the strokes, but it was hopeless. Syrin crisscrossed the lashes, layering pain upon pain, never too much at once to inure me to it. I grunted and bit my lip after twenty, uttered cries after thirty, and bawled like a child through the final ten; dancing and dangling until Syrin stopped at fifty. Syrin took me down and lay me on my stomach in his wagon for the day's travel, secured as before. The pain sharpened with each rock the wagon struck.
My every heartbeat forced blood through the crushed places and jolted me painfully awake; I could not sleep to avoid the pain. It took me an hour before I could manage a stony silence during Syrin's drive. Evening came and we continued to travel, for the mountains were near. Syrin left the road, uncovering a secret trail large enough to drive the wagons down it single-file, and soon enough we came flat up against one of the Firebird Mountains. V'heress came to the fore and opened the magical passageway, closing it behind when all the slaves had been dragged through.
The interior was unlit, yet all the dragons knew the place by heart; I listened to them make their way easily about, dragging the clumsy chained slaves down separate corridors. Gradually the other dragons split off, taking side passageways while Syrin merely drove his loaded wagon down and down. It took an hour of driving, twisting and turning in caves that seemed large by echo of sound, now deep beneath the earth. I had heard no other sounds of travel save our own for the past ten minutes when the cart stopped suddenly. Syrin got out and began to unload the other goods he had brought with him, pushing them off on some kind of roller, leaving me alone in the dark, in pain.
I thought of a thousand hatreds and tortures and escapes before Syrin returned, torch in one hand, leash in another. This time he locked the short leash to his wrist as well as my collar, and led me into his high-ceilinged cave. I walked on stone at first, but soon fine inlaid tiling as we entered his home proper; a simple, elegant series of interconnected passageways and rooms that dwarfed the Cerulean in their opulence. Collared slaves bustled about at Syrin's return, going about bits of upkeep that they might have neglected in his absence. Syrin led me ever towards the center, slapping his tail on my back to correct my direction when necessary.
We slowed only upon reaching his bath; large enough for several, deep enough to reach Syrin's chest, and with a floor all of gold in the dim torchlight. He lowered me into the slowly flowing water, crooning reassuringly to me as I jolted and winced, my welts sensitive even to the touch of the warm water. Syrin entered after me, wrapping his fist about the base of my horn to dangle me vertically in the water in the water from it, the bottom perhaps a foot away from my hooves. He took my chin in his palm, and forced my head fully above the water, to look into my eyes as he gently removed the silver bridle. My power and my mouth were freed, I could heal and I could speak.
He sat me in his lap in the bath and washed me, exquisitely gentle with my back as it slowly revived. The massages and bathings Syrin had previously given me had relaxed me to the feel of his heated scales upon my fur. The dim light of the torch served to make my milk-white fur a moon of reflected light, glittering off Syrin's scales and the gold of the pool. Syrin fondled my body against himself with the familiarity of ownership, finally removing me from the bath, drying me, and brushing my mane and tail into flowing glory as if I were his expensive doll.
Syrin carried me bound into his bedchamber, a cozy, warm cave with silken and satin cushions and blankets making a bed atop gold and jewels. He laid me out reclining, and lie beside me, curving over me in the undulatory way his neck had, his thick tail snaking in to coil about one of my ankles. "You are beautiful, slave. From the moment I saw you, I had to own you, I could not live without owning you, taming you." Syrin spread my legs, sitting between them while I lay back with my hands bound at my sides, collared and enslaved. His leather-rough hands stroked up the insides of my thighs to enfold my hanging balls and stroke my sheath.
I tried to relax, not yield to his caresses, but he lowered his head to my crotch and insinuated his thick, black, forked tongue within my sheath to lick across the hidden head of my cock. I could not resist his skill and he coaxed out my length, telescoping in his hands as his tongue flickered. He aroused my passions slowly and intently, rubbing with his palms and tongue until I hung on the edge of a gentle climax, holding me down with his legs and tail so that I could not thrust my hips against him and quicken my pleasure. He held me there, milking me slowly, lashing his tongue across the rounded head of my alabaster cock whenever his gripping red claws squeezed sweet spoor from me.
I begged for surcease, desperately tried to rock my hips and force myself to completion; Syrin merely backed off, let me calm, and then heated me to his desired temperature again. Only in his own time did he drag his claws upon my cock and encircle it with his tongue, catapulting me into climax while he fastened his jaws about me to catch and drink every exploding pulse until my gripping balls were spent in his claw. Syrin gave me a few moments to rest, licking me clean. He was the fountain of my pleasure and I could not deny that I owed him my life, the life he already owned.
He pressed his hard, scaled lips to mine, forcing them open and driving inward with his tongue, treating me with my own taste. He pressed forcefully at the back of my throat until it too surrendered to him, opening and swallowing, allowing the length of his tongue to penetrate. Slowly, he broke the kiss, controlling my head by a grip at the base of my horn and moving it between his legs. His cock was a dark red length, it did not glitter like his scales, soft and turgid as he stroked it against me. I worshipped it, took it in my mouth as he pulled my head forward inexorably in his grip, filling my mouth with the soft thickness.
It forced my mouth open further as it stiffened, Syrin pumping my head upon it like a piston. I used my wide, strong tongue as best I could upon it, slavering with my desire to serve my Master. Syrin angled my head and neck, penetrating my throat and hanging his cock down my neck, finally bringing my mouth flush with his crotch and holding me between his thighs for as long as I could stand not to breathe. He released me from that torment, leaving me gasping, and made me oil the now-gleaming red length that I had fully swallowed. Preparing me for what was to come, Syrin oiled his tongue and flicked it beneath my tail, sliding it inwards to open and ready me.
He massaged my flanks to relax them, spreading my legs wide, resting the great head of his cock against me as he lay atop me. The gentle strength of his entire weight pushed me open, slowly bringing himself to rest his sleekly muscled stomach on my draft-horse back. I was barely able to contain the thickness of his cock and its length filled me more than completely, twinging into pain at the apex of his taking. Syrin's crotch came flush with my opened flanks, rippling agony of stretching and of servitude sliding though me.
He began to ride me, made me his steed through the long hours of the night, and I submitted to the ineffable sliding and pushing, each thrust grinding the breath from my lungs. His tail slid up under me, encircling my hanging cock and balls, and Syrin's tongue slid inwards to tantalize my inner ear, shivering me almost to unconsciousness with the sensation. Breathless, Syrin brought me again to climax beneath him, my release serving his in my throes of pleasure gripping underneath him. His thrusts speeded, slamming into me with the force of a volcano, and with the explosion of his fire gushing into me, I knew how well I had served my Master.
After he had expended himself into me, he lay atop me, keeping me full and wet with himself, pinning me with his weight until he saw fit to release me. Syrin chained me to sleep at the foot of the bed, with weak, shaking legs from the force of his lovemaking. Slowly, the lather of my exertions dried, and my life in Syrin's service begun. — —
Unicorns and Dragons · Part 2 (2/2)
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