Dragon Desire

Caitrin groaned.

The fingers slipped inside. They were still oily from the salve that had been used to anoint her head, brow, throat and breast. The mage’s fingers pushed her wide and stretched her lightly. It was a thrilling moment and Caitrin wondered if the mage shared her excitement from the intimate contact.

When a thumb touched the nub of her clitoris, she drew jagged breaths of amazement. The rush of pleasure soared inside her body.

‘Muladhara,’ Nihal said eventually.

One oily fingertip slipped against the super-sensitive sliver of skin between the edge of her sex lips and the ring of her anus.

Caitrin held her breath, sure that her body was resting on the precipice of an orgasm. Slippery fingers remained between her thighs, teasing the lips of her sex and cajoling ripples of pleasure through her loins. Unable to stop herself, she whimpered as the need for satisfaction grew closer. Once the sounds had fallen from her lips, and she realised Nihal was allowing her to use her voice, Caitrin struggled to speak in the most conversational tone that her body could manage.

‘Is that it?’ she asked. ‘Is that the spell cast? Am I virgin again?’

Nihal silenced the question with a kiss. A soft and silky tongue slipped between her lips. A passionate mouth pressed urgently against hers. Strong hands held the back of her head, as though there was a risk that she might pull away.

Caitrin gave herself to the experience.

Her need for satisfaction became an irresistible impulse.

Slowly the mage’s kisses moved downwards, paying homage to each of the previously named and anointed chakras.

Caitrin shivered with every kiss and caress.

Nihal has a tenderness for me, Caitrin thought wistfully. It was a thought that made her smile. She wondered why the mage had never said anything about this tenderness before, and then realised that it was probably because the daughter of Blackheath’s esteemed castellan would not have been permitted to fraternise with a mage. What would be the point of voicing the existence of such affection when it could never amount to anything?

And before she could even bring herself to contemplate a response to that rhetorical question, she realised the mage’s hooded cowl was between her legs. The caress of the velvet fabric pressed against the soft, milky smoothness of her inner thighs. The mage was mumbling something in a whispered Latin whilst strong hands pushed her knees apart. Then the slick caress of a tongue slipped against the warm flesh of her sex.

Caitrin groaned.

The mage’s mouth moved over her labia. Fingertips teased at the sensitive lips but it was the warmth of the tongue gliding smoothly back and forth that made her want to scream with mounting excitement.

Nihal trilled the tip of a deft tongue against the thrust of Caitrin’s clitoris. The tiny bead of flesh was already pulsing with the need for a surge of release. The attention of the mage’s tongue set Caitrin close to exploding with raw desire.

‘Is this a necessary part of the spell?’ she asked.

Nihal’s head tilted back.

Caitrin caught a glimpse of kind eyes shining apologetically.

‘I needed to taste you before I sealed you up for Gethin,’ Nihal explained. ‘I needed to …’

Caitrin shook her head. ‘No need to explain,’ she said softly. ‘Just carry on doing that for me.’ She arched her back so the mage could have easier access. ‘Just carry on,’ she repeated. ‘And, if the day comes when I must have this stranger as my betrothed, I can always close my eyes and pretend that it’s you and not him between my legs.’

The pleasure resumed.

Nihal attacked her sex with a ferocity that left Caitrin breathless. The fingers that had been holding her knees apart were now teasing the musk-oily lips of her sex. Nihal’s flat, smooth tongue slipped against her with the ease of a polished glass sphere gliding over oiled skin.

A rush of delicious responses trembled through Caitrin’s sex, blossoming into small explosions in each of the areas where Nihal had touched. She remembered the mystical quality of each word that had been murmured: muladhara, swadhisthana, manipura, anahata, vishudda, anja, sahasrara.

It came to her that the words were flashing through her thoughts in reverse order to the way that Nihal had said them. And then, as the remainder of the words flooded through her mind, she realised she didn’t care what order the words came in.

All she cared about was the blistering rush of satisfaction. All she cared for was the pleasure pouring out of Nihal’s mouth and into the eager wetness of her hole.

Her climax struck with a force more powerful than she had enjoyed whilst quaffing dragon horn with Robert. It came in repeated bolts of satisfaction that hit her again and again as a cavalcade of multiple, magnificent thrills of pleasure. She found herself clutching the sides of the mage’s hood, urging Nihal to continue tonguing her depths and willing her body to suffer further waves of delicious and divine pleasure.

Eventually, after a glorious age of golden bliss, Caitrin realised the mage had stopped tonguing at her sex. The light had been bleached from the room and her desire for gratification had been replaced by a tranquillity of serene satisfaction.

Drowsiness held her in a lover’s embrace.

‘Is it done?’ Caitrin asked.

Nihal nodded. ‘Yes. Once again, I’ve restored your virginity.’

Caitrin was puzzled by the comment.

The words ‘once again’ suggested they had gone through this interaction before, although she couldn’t recall when she and Nihal had previously done something so intimate. She knew she wasn’t the brightest of the daughters of Blackheath, but she figured even someone with her limited capacity for remembering details would recall something as memorable as having a mage restore her virginity.

She opened her mouth to ask the question and a flood of memories came rushing back.

Nihal frowning with disapproval.

Nihal performing the restoration ceremony.

Nihal concluding the ceremony with a memory incantation.

She trembled, saddened by the idea that the mage would force her to forget the pleasure they had just shared.

The offices were now held in shadow. Glancing out through the west window she could see that the sun had finally set beyond the edge of the Last Sea. Braziers and torches burnt in the taverns and whorehouses around the port. The silhouettes of lewd revellers began to break out into the streets as a large covered wagon was drawn down the main road leading toward Blackheath.

‘You have to promise me that you’ll give up your quest for dragon horn.’

‘Give up the quest?’ Caitrin laughed, surprised by the ridiculousness of the suggestion. ‘Never.’

Nihal’s shoulders stiffened. One trembling hand raised the bitternut hickory wand. The silver tip glowed dully. ‘Don’t say never, Caitrin. Reconsider your decision before I have to do something we’ll both regret.’

Caitrin pressed her mouth close to the mage.

‘Don’t make me forget what we just shared,’ she begged.

Nihal stiffened as though stung by the suggestion.

‘Don’t make me forget what we just shared,’ Caitrin repeated. ‘And don’t make me forget my quest for dragon horn. It’s important to me. If you knew what dragon horn was like I’m sure it would be important to you.’

‘But, Cait,’ the mage began. ‘It’s such a dangerous substance.’

Caitrin thought she liked having her name shortened by the mage. It made her feel as though there was something developing between them.

‘You’ve never tried dragon horn,’ she whispered. ‘And until you’ve tried it you can’t judge me for wanting to experience it again.’