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🕑 Added 2025-04-27 16:29:07 +0000 UTCEmeralda, Firstborn’s Last Laugh.
By KinkSaber
The most beautiful and the eldest. Emeralda was the firstborn of all of mother Gaia's creation and the most revered among his kind.
When the world was created, so was he. From barren lands beneath his feet sprouted grass, and from grass soon trees. The necessity of water bred the birth of Saphira, who took dominion over the great blue that she brought forth. As the water moved from sea to sky, over land, and back to the ocean, so was Rubius born of the mountains they carved. Last and not least, from the water deprived lands grew Ambros, who sustained life in the sun scorched Sandseas.
When the elves were made, Emeralda was there to witness mother Gaia's second born. He raised the great Eternal Forests to give this infant civilization a home. When the dwarves were chiseled from the earth, he nurtured fruits to blossom underground. So did the sea plants and desert blooms obey Emeralda when the last two major races were created. Emeralda was the catalyst in everything that was and was yet to come.
The Gem Dragon did not, unlike the others, hide himself away. He spent his immortal life in the presence of the others, who he took a liking to. In his infinite wisdom was the desire to share his gift, and so for many years he lived among the long lived elves and taught them the art of fire, the ways of earth, the dance of the wind, and the flow of water. Emeralda taught the elves magic, the power of life itself.
From the elves you the dwarves, from the dwarves to the merfolk, and from the merfolk to the humans. The gift of magic was showcased, shared, and in many instances taken with force. Ancient secrets were unearthed and buried. Words of power changed and evolved. They were lost to the passage of time, and rediscovered across the world in time again.
The Gem Dragon took on as many faces as the ages he lived. He hid well among the mortals, and did not interfere in their conflicts. When war came, Emeralda fled with the refugees under a dirty face and torn rag, where his old persona died and a new one was born. Sometimes he was a pauper who begged for scraps, and sometimes he was a trader backed by a caravan of horses and the spices they pulled. The only thing he never was, was himself.
For a great many years, he had heard the rumors of the disappearance of Ambros. He was not concerned at the least. He sensed his sibling's power in the world still, and made assumptions that Ambros was tired of the noise. He made the assumption that Ambros merely hid underground the same way Saphira hid in the depths of the seas, the same way Rubius hid in the mountains.
Then, a hundred years later, he heard the rumors that Rubius also had not been seen for a time. Emeralda sensed Rubius' power still, and did not concern himself with the petty mortal gossip mills. He wore the face of an aristocrat, and indulged in the finer side of the dwarven crafts. He sampled their liquor, which was clear and strong; much more so than elven wine or human spirits. It burned the whole way down, and if not for his draconic constitution he would have been knocked out after the first half mug.
He travelled the world. When he "died" he left his mortal possessions to the quibbling of the friends he made. He found it hilarious that no matter the race, those he left behind always fought over the inconsequential, paltry sums of gold that he had to his name.
Two hundred. Three hundred years passed. The mortal innovations excited him. Emeralda craved things that he had not experienced, for the new and unseen killed the boredom of the dragon's mind. It was five hundred years since he last visited Saphira that Emeralda craved the companionship of his other siblings, and so he sought them out.
He went to the great Sandseas by foot, and found only traces of Ambros' magic there, with a hint of human magic that had mixed in the sands eons ago. He scooped a handful of it into a pouch, and began to walk north to the land of lava. Emeralda dived through the depths of the mountains, and in the place where he should have found Rubius, he only sensed the dragon's lingering aura, tainted by corruption of the power of life. He took an enchanted bottle and saved a small handful of lava, and he met the sunlight again where he last saw the sky. From there, Emeralda walked to the Oceanside, where he met with Saphira after a few short hundred years.
He showed Saphira the bottle and pouch, and the two agreed. It was not normal for two of the Gem Dragons to go missing. Saphira returned to the depths, and Emeralda returned to his search. He sensed Rubius and Ambros still; but their powers were faint as they had been for a time, and it was not enough to track them down. When divine methods were not enough, Emeralda resorted to mortal ones.
He went from one city to the next on the map, and travelled the world all over. Each time he sought out more pieces of rumors related to the two missing dragon's. The tales mortal tell were as grand and fantastical as always -- but two in particular caught his attention. Two mages who seemed to attain the impossible: immortality in mortal bodies. Emeralda was careful in his proceedings. He merely assumed that Ambros and Rubius hid among the mortals as he did; and to intrude on them would incur their ire. He first returned to the village of the mage's tower and lived there for a time, until three decades later he finally caught a glimpse of the famed name Escalion. He sensed the power of the Gem Dragon on the mage's breath, but it was not Ambros. There was, from the mage's soul, the stench of mortality that did not match the time that the mage spent in the world. Emeralda knew at once that Ambros' power had been misused.
In the same manner the dragon lived in The Dungeon City for many years until the famed halfling Venescara made his appearance. Cosmic power leaked from the exhalation of the halfling's breath, and there was also the faint corruption of magic in the halfling's soul. The two powers tore at Venescara's body, but cosmic power repaired the damages as soon as they were incurred. Emeralda surmised that without Rubius' stolen power, the halfling would drop dead within half a year.
But even with this knowledge, it was not enough. He had not yet discovered where his brethren had been hidden. It was clear that the mage's ivory tower was suspicious, but without his true form it would be impossible to intrude; and if Escalion had the power to capture one dragon, he would have no problem capturing two. The same was true of Venescara. There was no benefit to revealing himself to either mage in any case.
So Emeralda's plan was to keep himself concealed; to hide in plain sight among the mortals, and to find an opening that would give him a chance to rescue the other dragon. He had consulted Saphira and nothing in the depths of the forests or the depths of the seas seemed to be of help. Years continued to pass, and he was no closer to when he originally began: there were suspicions and no proof but the scent of dragons that lingered on the mage's trail.
The one thing about having many faces is that mortals are notoriously easy to fool; and what one heard and repeated to another soon became an unshakeable truth. Emeralda's many years of searches and questions led to the illusion of a number of people who were interested in the dragon cults, and his own curiosity were repeated back to him as the knowledge passed in circles. From the desert to the forest to the mountains and seas, people spoke of a sect of dragon cult who sought the missing dragons more feverishly than the others. Each one whispered of, of course, Emeralda's very own journey. So many years had passed since when he first started that the most recent news he would hear was of his open last visit, when he donned another face. Emeralda knew from there that questioning mortals will no longer be beneficial to him.
He would have to seek another method, one that he had not prepared to.
In the deepest part of the Eternal Forests, untouched even by the elves, Emeralda transformed back to his dragon self. With his own claws he plucked several of his own scales, which he then enchanted with his magic and with the cosmic powers inside him. These would be the most powerful artifacts the world has ever seen -- as bait to the mages that had captured his brothers.
From a pair of his scales he crafted a sword, forged in cosmic dragon fire deep within the breasts of mother Gaia. He was a skilled Smith in many of his faces, and he put everything he learned into this blade. He took the perpetually burning sword and cooled it in the icy depths where the seven seas converged. He blessed it in the cavern where Rubius used to dwell, and the plateau of Ambros's resting place, and infused into it the last essences of both dragons. After fifty three years of traveling the world, the blade was completed. The dragon forged sword shimmered in iridescent light, and shined with all the colors of the living world.
Meanwhile, he kept tabs on the mages who showed their public presence less and less as the years piled on.
Other than in the most remote of places, Emeralda did not dare to cast magic. He knew the mages would be able to sense him if he had done it too close to either location. He had not spoken to the elves as he used to, and he, too, was considered missing. The only other soul who knew of his plans was Saphira, conversed in dream talk. It would be a hundred years since they last saw each other when Emeralda received the news, and he would keep quiet, too.
Emeralda bided his time. He used what he learned from the mortals -- that their hubris would be the end of them eventually.
The dragon took another face. A half giant, a mix of human and demi-giant lineage. It was a large, strong body that he wore. He stood a foot and half taller than the tallest humans, twice as muscular as dwarves, and beautiful as elves. He made a name for himself when he claimed to have slain Emeralda, and the scale-sword was evidence. Forged in cosmic dragon fire in Emeralda's dying breath, he claimed, and he had stolen the dragon's name for himself, for he had bested the beast.
He executed challenges to the famed immortal mages, along with the royal academies and knights. He boasted far and wide and travelled the land as he slayed monsters using nothing but his draconic strength and blade. Soon, the immortal God of Swords Emeralda became a household name, and just like the Gem Dragons, fantastical abilities and traits were attributed to the dragon slaying hero.
And yet, the mages did not take the bait that Emeralda had set.
If only either had taken a single glimpse at the sword he carried, they would see draconic magic in it; or at least that was the plan.
What Emeralda did attract were the criminals, the power hungry, and the politically impotent. They all sought to use him or his sword to further their own goals.
With a target on his back, Emeralda paused his quest and fled -- back to the Eternal Forest where he had a temporary reprieve from the mortal's badgering. He took a nap under Yggdrasil, the first tree that he raised, and slept under its shade. Once his eyes closed, Emeralda's body sank into a deep sleep, until he was awakened prematurely by a single human who he did not recognize. The dragon's eyes widened when he realized he could neither speak nor move his body. He was trapped, but how?
"Good morning, Lord Emeralda."
The human addressed him plainly, but in his voice was some level of fear -- that whatever they did did not work. When he was not replied to, the human sighed with a breath of relief.
"I suppose the magic potion did work, then, since I'm still alive."
It took the firstborn of dragons all of his magic to break through a single layer of enchantment, but it was only enough to move his human-lips by a half inch; and his voice came out as a whisper. "..Who are you?"
"Brionac, the thief." The handsome human answered earnestly. "My friend calls me Brio."
"... And what do you want with me, Brionac the thief?"
"Your sword. Naturally. I've followed you for months, so it's quite a surprise that the great God of Swords had not noticed my presence."
"Hmph."
"But there's something about this that doesn't add up. You are the real Lord Emeralda, aren't you? The very dragon that you claim to have slayed."
Brio drew air quotes as he spoke. The theatrics greatly annoyed the dragon.
".. And what gave that away?"
"The flow of magic.” Brionac replied. “It does not flow from your sword. No matter which direction you hold your sword in relative to you, the power flows away from your body. That only means one thing – your invisible magic must be denser than that of the sword, and as I have never seen you cast a single spell, I believe the reason your magic is denser than the sword, supposedly crafted from the dying breath of a dragon, is because you are the dragon Lord Emeralda himself. Many can see the subtle flow of magic, but none have observed you for as long as I. You’re not easy to stalk, Lord Emeralda.”
“..Heh. What a clever mortal.” Emeralda chuckled. Another layer of the magical barrier was broken, but the magic that the mortal had cast on him seemed to be thick and well designed. “Now, what is this magic that you have enchanted over me? I’d very much like for my body to be freed, Brionac the thief.”
“Yes, yes. Of course. Shall I be taking your sword, then?”
“Free me from this spell, and the sword is yours.” Emeralda sighed. “If you can see through my disguise, then the mages I hunt would have, too. I suppose my century of work has been undone and I must start anew.”
“..Well, isn’t that just the most interesting thing?” Brionac ran his hand through his short, scarlet hair. “I suppose you must be speaking of Lord Venescara and Lord Escalion.”
“Hmph.” The dragon tutted again. There was something uncomfortable about the way he was trapped in that handsome mortal body. Even though it was his own skin that he wore, the way the magic interfered was unpleasant.
“..You know, if I’m given a little motivation, I could be convinced to help you.” The human said suggestively. “I have no love for those two. No love at all. In fact, the potion I used on you was stolen from Lord Venescara’s study. Almost got caught, but I’m the world’s best thief. Hadn’t expected it to be so powerful, and, well, damn. Here we are.”
Those words made Emeralda snap his eyes open. He tasted the mana in the air. Slightly corrupted, yes, but there was also a hint of something else – the scent of Rubius was mixed in it. Rubius’ power was in the potion that Brionac stole, and that was huge. It finally dawned on the dragon that the mortal mages figured out a way to harness cosmic power, and it was not good news for him. There were only four sources of cosmic power in the world, and two of them had already succumbed to the mortals.
“What do you ask in return, Brionac the thief?”
“You could just call me Brio.” The human adjusted his cloak. “I dare say I am the only one in the world skilled enough to sneak in and out of the two mage’s strongholds. Venescara’s underground dungeon is especially tricky – it took me years to map the layout just to get there, and I barely escaped with my life. So, I will take your sword, for one – and your blessings, for another. I wish for the armor of a dragon, to defend against enemy spells.”
“..My blessings?” The dragon laughed. “Ah, right. The dragon’s blessings. I’m afraid that’s not based in reality, mortal. Your storytellers attribute to us dragons abilities we don’t possess. We can’t grant immortality, nor give you blessings. You can, however, have my sword. That weapon is based in reality, and, apparently, useless to me now.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised. Disappointed, but not unexpected.” The red-haired human sighed. “I suppose if dragon blessings were real, then the Blessed would be all over the place.”
“And yet, you’ve never found one, have you? The cults love nothing more than to spread lies. I have been fooled by many of these stories, too, Brio.” The dragon exhaled the cosmic power that was bound inside him. He realized how fortunate he was – to be in the middle of the ancient forest, where his power was the strongest. The stolen potion’s effects waned on its own. He felt his muscles relax and his joints soften once more, no longer locked in place. “I seek to free my brethren from the mage’s hold. I suspect their powers are being misused by Escalion and Venescara. If you agree to aid my quest, without spilling any of my secrets to anyone for your entire life, I will give you the sword – and any other rewards I am capable of giving you.”
“No immortality or invincibility, huh?” The human chuckled. “Well, I suppose the sword and the friendship of a dragon is in itself reward enough. You have yourself a deal, Lord Emeralda.”
“Excellent. Now, I will need another day or two to recover my power. Come back in two day’s time and we shall begin our quest.” Emeralda closed his eyes and rested his head in the grassy fields under Yggdrasil. “Take the sword. Slay something with it. Familiarize yourself with its power. I expect it shall serve you well. It was, after all, crafted from my own scales and fire.”
—
When Emeralda opened his eyes again, he realized something was very, very wrong. More so than when he had been bound by a corrupted potion.
Had his senses dulled so much that he could not detect malice? His mind raced through the events once more – no. Brionac was a thief. Immoral, but he could hardly be categorized as malicious. Impure? No doubt. But as tainted as the human’s soul was, it was still mostly light.
Then, why did the red-head who stood in his presence reek of evil in his spirit?
The eternal dragon could not understand how the human had been corrupted in such a short time, but really, it’s simple: human greed knows now bounds, and it was only exacerbated further by the dragon’s aura and the power of the sword he had been given.
What Emeralda did not realize was when he forged the sword in cosmic dragon fire, and when he imbued the power of the dragons into it, that he had inadvertently sealed a small piece of his own soul in the enchanted sword.
Magic in its most base element was cosmic power, and cosmic power was almost omnipotent. Emeralda wished for a sword that would command the attention of his enemies, and the power of command dwelled subconsciously within it. Once the ownership of the sword traded hands, however, so did the command.
When Brionac first touched the handle of the blade, his body was filled with overwhelming power. He took it to the old trees and found himself capable of swinging the feather-light sword with little effort; and that the blade sliced through their ironbark trunks like a hot knife through butter. Brionac then tested it on the side of the mountains, where boulders were separated as if they were air.
The power went right to the human’s head. He felt more powerful than ever. There was a moment in which he feared how much of it he wielded. He wished to test it on something else, and he returned to the slumbering Emeralda to ask for simple spells flung his way. He wanted to know if he could cut the foundation of magic itself.
When Brionac saw the handsome half-giant sleeping, he was instantly taken aback by how attracted he was to Emeralda. It was, unknown to the human, the dragon’s aura of adoration that affected his mind. He had followed Emeralda’s journey for months, and when the dragon had full control of his powers, he kept his aura at a minimum – so that others only found him charismatic and charming at the very most. When he had been doused by the mage’s corrupted potion, there was a brief moment in time where his aura leaked beyond his control; and then when he expelled the rest of the foul magic from his body, an excess of his draconic aura, too, was expelled into the air. The air that lingered around the ancient forest. The very same air that the human inhaled more and more of by the second as he stood in the dragon’s presence. There, Brionac watched the half-giant sleep, and as he glared and sponged up all of the dragon’s aura, his adoration and zealousness ballooned.
The dragon’s awakening, too, was unnatural. It was not because he had recovered – far from it. It was because the human’s mind raced and obsessed, and his hand gripped the sword handle until his knuckles turned white. He wanted the half-giant, as he wanted the dragon. He wished for the dragon to awaken and see him in return – and the magic of the blade, the power of command that had been enchanted into the sword, responded to his wish.
The same sword that contained a fragment of the dragon’s soul, which put the dragon under the human’s power for as long as he maintained the ownership of that blade. Brionac wished for the dragon to see him, and so the dragon did – against his will.
The dragon was confused. He did not sense the corruption of magic, nor was he magically bound by the human. Brionac advanced on the dragon and in his greedy little human heart wished for the dragon to submit – and the dragon once again did. Even if his mind did not, his body fell under the will of the human that owned the scale sword.
Brionac knelt by Emeralda, and Emeralda sat upward to meet him halfway. The human embraced the half-giant, his mortal eyes lifeless and entranced, and their lips met in a kiss that fueled only the human’s physical desires for the firstborn.
While their tongues danced in a tango, the dragon’s body reverted from that of his half-giant appearance to that of his own – scales deeply green, lush and light as the rays of sun across the forest and the fields. He did not grow back to his titanic size, as Brionac never knew the dragon was tall and majestic like mountains. He merely desired to see Emeralda’s draconic form.
From soft lips to scales and pearly whites to fangs, Emeralda reverted his form and revealed himself in all of his glory to the human who had captured his soul. The dragon could not fight against it. Emeralda’s body acted according to the human’s hidden desires, submissive and dominated, as his physical form allowed the human to kiss him all over. From the lips, to his neck, to his bared, naked chest. The human licked against the scales that covered the dragon’s stomach, thighs, and then lifted the dragon’s foot until those draconic toes were at the height of the human’s face. Brionac did not think twice before he gave them a kiss, too.
It wasn’t enough. The human’s hand traced the dragon’s tails and wings. Though he was taller and larger, just about every part of Emeralda’s body was within arm’s reach for the human. Brionac tasted the softness and flavor of the dragon’s body, and his mind craved more. He could not easily stop.
The thing with mortal humans in this world is that their greed corrupted the very evolutionary lines in which they spawn, and that each individual action taken from the root of greed only served to amplify an unequal, greater reaction that intensified the greed of another. The humans learned from it, bolstered themselves with it, and grew until their greed knew no bounds.
And Brionac? Brionac was insatiable.
It was not enough that he had tasted the cosmos taken form; the very scent and flavor of eternity that passed his lips and danced on his tongue.
He wanted to subdue it, to make the dragon submit, as with all humans against creatures they deemed lesser. The sword would grant his wish.
Brionac stripped the dragon of the rest of the half-giant’s outerwear, and discarded them against the roots of Yggdrasil. The dragon could do nothing but lift his arms towards the human and bring him back for another kiss in return. The human’s hands continued to explore that draconic body – and in the midst of their passion, the human brushed his fingertips against the dragon’s ribs.
Mid-grope of the dragon’s breast, Emeralda let out a gasp, a shudder, and the slightest giggle from between his lips. That was not unnoticed by the sharp-sensed thief.
Brionac reenacted the scene, but this time his fingertips sought out their target with purpose. The human thief scratched his nails against the tender scales and listened for the dragon’s giggle. As he wished for, he received. Brionac smiled.
His fingers shot towards the dragon’s tummy and waist, where they abandoned the masquerade of grope and revealed the intention to scritch Emeralda’s body. Brionac grinned wider when he heard Emeralda’s ticklish yelps. The dragon’s body bounced and jerked against the floor, but even though Emeralda was far stronger than the human physically, the dragon could not bring his own arms down to defend himself. He was powerless under the human’s hands. He could only let out snorts of giggles and bursts of laughter between moans.
Deep inside, the human wished that the dragon enjoyed it, and the sword made it reality. The idea was planted in Emeralda’s soul, and the seed grew slowly – but it grew nonetheless.
From the dragon’s tummy, Brionac reached for his thigh, the dragon’s knee, and then the back of his lower leg. The human made assumptions about the dragon’s ticklish spots, and as his mind conjured the imagery, the sword made it so.
The sword was bound to him, and Emeralda was soulbound to the sword. He should not have given it away. If he only knew the path that his mage sword had forged for him.
At last, the human reached the dragon’s feet once more.
He thought about it briefly, and the dragon’s toes wiggled on command. The curls and clenches made Brionac’s heart skip a beat. He could not wait to lay thick kisses on them – to show his love and adoration for the dragon. His tongue came from between his lips and he licked between each of the digits. Emeralda tasted fantasti, and felt even better when the softness of his toes pressed against the human’s tongue.
Brionac reached for the sole, which was high arched and tender. His fingers molested every inch of them as the dragon’s body willingly kept them at the level of his face. The dragon’s ass pressed against the human’s crotch while the soles were inches from his nose and mouth. The human grinded against the dragon’s exposed tailhole, and even though his pants he felt how complicit the dragon was.
Pure corruption took over the human’s soul. He could no longer hold himself back from defiling the dragon as he would another virgin human.
The sneak thief raked his fingers against the dragon’s soles while his tongue lapped at those toes. The dragon’s body shook, but the feet were held motionless at the human’s desired pose. Emeralda bursted into loud, roaring, draconic laughter as his soles were ravaged and teased and bullied by the human’s hand and tongues. The sensation crept over the dragon’s eternal mind, too, as the torment slowly transformed, as the human willed it, into pleasure for the dragon as well. From something that the dragon wanted to escape from, to something that would cause the dragon to yearn for.
Meanwhile, the dragon’s aura of adoration kept the human addicted to the taste and scent of his feet. The more Brionac lapped at those toes, the more he fell in love with Emeralda’s wiggly, squirming toes. It was a feedback loop that could not be broken.
From between the dragon’s legs was his own erection. The many years of mortal living taught him what it is, and although he never cared to indulge in it, Emeralda had always been curious about something that he could not experience. The corruption of the human, which had spread to the dragon, released the bondage that kept him abstained. The dragon’s shaft stiffened and grew engorged, the pleasure overwhelming for the virgin dragon. It was, for the first time ever, something that was too much for the dragon to handle.
In the dragon’s head, it was as if he was stuck in an endless ringing of bells at the grand cathedral. His head pounded as his ass was grinded by the human’s erection, while his soles were scratched, while his toes were slurped and lapped, and while his erection throbbed and twitched with intense need. Emeralda felt dirty, but at the same time everything felt so right. It was a primordial desire that awoken in him, a primordial need that all other living creatures craved for.
The dragon understood orgasms, but had never experienced it for himself. He had never wanted anything more. This was no longer about his divine duty to the world to sow life, but to satisfy his personal wishes, his personal needs. The dragon’s body trembled as the pleasure built in his crotch, and as the human continued to play with the dragon’s soles, the dragon’s cock was the focus of all of his vitality. Thick, juicy, and threatening. Brionac could not ignore that either. He kept one hand on the dragon’s feet while the other reached for the massive shaft, and began to stroke and caress it.
Brionac, as it turned out, was very skilled in the way of sexual pleasures for his partners. His hand was soft and his fingers dexterous for his job, yes, but also for his wild, adventurous ways in the brothels and whore houses. He cared not whether his partner was male or female, but prided himself that as long as they were under his care that they would have the best orgasm of their life. It was a boast that he had not been falsely advertising; and so the sneak thief used everything in his repertoire to pleasure the dragon the best way he knew how.
A stroke, a tease, a thumb that drew circles against the base of the dragon’s cock head. Between laughters were deep, guttural moans of a dragon that was lost to the pleasures of the flesh. Emeralda’s tongue hung from his mouth as a bitch in heat, and the dragon arched his back with empty thrusts in the air when he felt he got closer to orgasm. Brionac, of course, released his hand and focused on his own pleasure when he felt the twitch of the dragon’s cock. It was too early. He was not ready to let the dragon cum, yet.
His tongue returned to the arches, as did his teeth. He nibbled up and down the dragon’s soft arches, the tender balls of the dragon’s foot, and the heels. He bit them hard until the dragon screamed, and then he tickled the same sensitive spot until the dragon howled with laughter. He kept his tongue between the dragon’s toes while the digits wiggled and curled against them, while they squirmed in his mouth.
Brionac felt so powerful to have the Gem Dragon under his hand like this. The corruption spread, until it took over the human’s entire soul, entire mind; until there was little that resembled the human’s other desires. Where once there was desire and greed for gold and jewels, now only existed the scent of the dragon’s toes and the taste of those arches on his tongue. Where once the human was concerned about prestige and name, now there was only Emeralda’s love. The desire for a large manor was replaced by the desire to stay eternally with the dragon as his lover.
He grinded and thrusted his pelvis against the dragon’s bared ass again. It was so warm, so inviting. He paused his hands only to remove the clothes and armor on his body. Brionac kicked his boots off until he was fully naked under the sunny sky, under the shades of Yggdrasil – and he pressed his cock against the pink, hidden hole under the dragon’s tail. He was stiff, too, and his hardness pushed against the dragon’s tender flesh.
He kissed the dragon’s toes and suckled them again. His fingers scratched against the soles, while the other hand busied itself with the dragon’s cock once more, which stayed stiff and thick as ever. He moaned. Emeralda moaned. The two’s breathing were in sync with each other as their separate desires mingled and melted into one.
Brionac desired to own the dragon, and the dragon desired to be owned by the human, too.
On again, off again, the human stayed there for three days and three nights, sustained by the dragon’s shedded magic and the power of Yggdrasil in the air. He kept the dragon as aroused as he could, then stopped just before the dragon had earned his orgasm. Three days of teasing and three nights of denial. The dragon was going mad. In his thousands of years among the mortals he had never been so frustrated, so limited, and so tormented – and Emeralda grew to love it. He loved the feeling of helplessness as his orgasm was taken away again and again. He loved to be under the human’s oppressive, devious control.
He begged. Oh, did Emeralda beg for release. He cried. Tears filled the majestic creature’s eyes as he pleaded with the human for a single drop of pleasure. He gave all of his dignity and pride away. Emeralda made promise after promise for whatever the human desired for, if he was only allowed to release.
Secretly, though, the dragon kind of wanted to be kept on the edge. It felt too good, too right to not be.
His mind slowly crumbled, from that of an old, wizen dragon to that of a mortal bitch. Memories of his brethren Rubius and Ambros soon faded from his brain. He did not care for them – or the world, or anything else but the love and the touches of the human who kept him and used him like a pet.
Emeralda craved for more, too. More perverse. More corruption. He imagined himself even more tightly bound – not just by the magic of the sword that controlled his body. When he caught himself thinking it, it was already too late – for the enchanted sword worked the other way around, too.
The blade echoed the dragon’s desires and, as with how Brionac seeded his desires into the dragon, infused the dragon’s dark thoughts into the human’s subconscious mind. The moon dimmed in the night sky, and Brionac began to desire for the dragon’s bondage, too.
He only needed to wish for it, and it would be granted ten thousand times over.
The roots of the Yggdrasil, affected by Emeralda’s cosmic power, came to life – and bound the dragon within its hold. The great world tree itself became the dragon’s prison, and there the dragon was slowly encased by the wooden colossus. Second by second the dragon’s body disappeared into the trunk, as if he melted into it, and soon the only thing left of Emeralda was his blindfolded, gagged head that protruded from the side of the tree, between his pair of soles that were only seen from below the ankle, and, of course, the dragon’s cock and ass below. Emeralda’s wings, tail, arms, and torso were otherwise fully hidden in the great tree that became as stoic as a statue once more.
Brionac wished for the dragon to become powerless, and that is exactly what he got. The great Yggdrasil’s roots coiled around the dragon’s body that was hidden inside its trunks, and from the roots it began to drain the dragon of his infinite cosmic power, at a rate that would eventually rob the dragon from using his gifts entirely.
That was, as it seems, not a care on the dragon’s mind.
Emeralda’s cock throbbed menacingly. Precum leaked from the tip of his cockhead, and dripped down the side of his shaft. The human licked his lips when he saw the dragon’s arousal and began to lap it up – while his hands were occupied with each of the dragon’s soles. The fingers scratched, the cock twitched, and another gob of precum trailed down the side of the dragon’s cock.
Brionac lapped it all up, without wasting a single drop. His licked down to the base of the shaft, kissed the dragon’s testicles, and then pushed his tongue into the dragon’s asshole, where he rimmed the dragon while the soles suffered delicious tickle torture. Yggdrasil’s roots extended to pull the toes back, as the human wanted, and then settled and became a prison for those digits – a prison harder and more durable than enchanted steel.
As he did for millenia, the dragon created life where he was – and new life sprang around him. This time, though, it was according to the human’s wishes.
Snake-like vines, semi-sentient, coiled around the dragon’s large soles and prickled them with its sharp scale-barks. Flowers, much like the insect-devourers, evolved with tongues to lap at the soles when the humans did not claim them for himself. Fairy sprites, born from the blooms between the dragon’s toes, spent their single-night-long life gathered by the dragon’s digits, and danced until the cosmic powers in their tiny little chests were extinguished with the sunrise. A new batch of fae would be born when the sun sets, and each of them would zealously adore the dragon’s toes as all fae were born to.
Above him were flowers with nectar that acted as moisturizers. Their sweet smell masked their deviousness. A single drop was enough to make the dragon’s soles itch for days. Emeralda’s soles grew viciously sensitive and helpless as the plants endlessly drizzled their honey nectar onto them. They droplets landed on the dragon’s toes, and ran all the way down the dragon’s arches until they pooled by the heels. Of course, the lapping tongues of the sole tormenting plants would evenly spread this around, where not a single inch was left untouched.
Emeralda’s cock was, however, not tended to by the plants. That was a privilege reserved for Brionac himself. The human would rarely cease his lickle of the dragon’s shaft. The dragon’s precum was sweet as honey and fruit, and with each drop of it revitalized the human’s mortal body. It filled Brionac with a power unlike anything he had felt before.
And much like Escalion and Venescara, the greed inside Brionac taught him to guard the dragon jealously. The thief, who had all of his wishes granted by the trapped dragon, erected walls of thorns around the Yggdrasil to ward off intruders. The chaotic, corruption magic also spawned incredibly strong monsters outside the barrier, which served as additional layers of security against trespassers.
Unlike Escalion and Venescare, Brionac did not leave Emeralda. He did not take a single step away from the blindfolded, gagged dragon. Not a single moment was spent where he didn’t touch the dragon somewhere – the dragon’s bound toes, trapped soles, exposed, aroused cock. Emeralda’s lips, where the human would kiss with just as much love and passion as that first time they met.
It wasn’t long before Emeralda became a mind-broken dragon toy.
Laughter and moans. It was all the dragon was capable of.
His soles itched. His mind had been shattered. His toes craved for the human’s kiss and the caress of the human’s tongue – it was the only time where the maddening itch would pause long enough for the dragon to enjoy the predicament that he loved so much. Emeralda loved to suffer for the human’s pleasure. A warped love. A corrupted love. He loved being the human’s broken toy.
One day, he’ll earn the privilege to cum.
One day, he’ll finally experience what a true orgasm was.
One day, Brionac might finally be merciful and allow the dragon the pleasure that he craved.
One day. Maybe.
=The end=
