Dragon Desire

He raised his hand to stop her from interrupting.

‘The cards tell me you will do all that for me.’

Perplexed, she asked, ‘What else do the cards tell you I’ll do?’

He plucked a card from the top of the deck. It made the crisp sound of stiff paper snapping from the darkness.

‘The cards tell me you’re going to suck my cock.’

Tavia rolled her eyes. She had expected he would try something sexual. A part of her was almost tempted to go along with his suggestion because she did find him vaguely attractive. The heat from the dragon horn still nestled in her loins making her hungry for the taste of a man. But she had hoped the seer would try something that didn’t sound like such a blatant insult to her intelligence.

‘Good morrow, Alvar, son of Erland,’ she said tiredly. ‘Thank you for being honest with me earlier and admitting that you are no longer a seer. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.’

She turned her back on him and headed toward the dungeon doorway.

Behind her she heard the sound of him flicking another tarot card from the top of the deck.

‘Do you want to hear my third condition?’ he called.

‘Not really.’ She tossed the words back over her shoulder. ‘I’m bored now.’

He sniffed. ‘My third condition is not open for negotiation. I want a share in the dragon horn you’re going to import.’

Tavia stopped. She turned and glared at him. ‘How the hell did you know about the dragon horn?’

‘Suck my dick and we’ll talk about that.’

‘If you were a genuine seer …’ she began. She shook her head. That wasn’t what she wanted to say. ‘If you were able to offer me some genuine assistance …’ Again, that wasn’t quite right. ‘If I didn’t think you were an absolute charlatan,’ she decided finally, ‘I might consider your proposal. But –’

‘How much more proof do you need that I’m a genuine seer?’

He asked the question with a forced innocence. Snapping a card from the top of the deck he glanced at the contents and then said, ‘You’re not wearing braies.’

She blushed. It was true. She wasn’t wearing undergarments beneath her kirtles. But he could have guessed she wasn’t wearing braies.

‘So?’

He snapped another card from the top of the tarot.

‘You had twenty-five golden pfennigs in your purse when you set off this morning. But now you’ve only got twenty-three. I don’t know if two of them are still on the floor of this dungeon from when you dropped your purse. Or if you used the other two pfennigs to bribe your way in here. But there are now only twenty-three pfennigs in your purse.’

Tavia caught a startled breath. He was right. She had counted twenty-five golden pfennigs into her purse before leaving home that morning. The guard had insisted on two gold pfennigs in payment for opening the dungeon door. She studied the seer with renewed respect.

Was it possible that he really did have the gift of sight?

‘Tell me something that only I would know,’ Tavia demanded. ‘Tell me something that no one else in the world but me could know.’

He pulled another card from the top of the deck.

His salacious smile glittered in the darkness. When he glanced up to grin at her she could see the sexual interest that sparkled in his gleaming eyes.

‘You masturbated twice this morning. Once with a carrot.’ He winked and added, ‘You came hard with the carrot because it was pushed into your arsehole.’

Tavia stepped back. ‘I’faith,’ she gasped. She touched her brow to ward off the dangers of the evil eye.

‘Now, if that’s enough proof for you, you can get down on your knees and suck my cock,’ he said boldly. ‘It won’t suck itself you know.’

She didn’t hesitate.

Falling swiftly to her knees, Tavia lifted the hem of his tunic to find his braies. The linen pants, tied at the waist and hanging down to his knees, were distended at the crotch by the bulge of his excitement. She stroked the shape of him with sincere and hungry affection.

‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘Suck it.’

She reached for the drawstring at his waist. As the braies fell to his ankles she pushed back the folds of his tunic to expose the thick length of his throbbing manhood.

A swatch of curls as dark as those on his head, covered his sac. The pale stalk of his erection protruded snake-like from the forest of his dark hairs. She traced a finger against the sweat-slick skin and sighed when she reached the swollen end of his glans. It was fat, bulbous and already dewy with arousal.

Tavia did not lay claim to any gifts of second sight but she could tell that Alvar, son of Erland, wanted her as badly as she wanted him. She stroked her thumb over the rounded end of his erection and watched him shiver with need.

‘Don’t just tickle it,’ he mumbled. ‘I’ve asked you to suck the damned thing.’

She moved her face close to him and allowed her long blonde tresses to caress his shaft. Positioning her head carefully she blew soft breath against the side of his length. Savouring the way he squirmed she moved closer and drew her tongue against him.

He gasped.

During the week when she had first been introduced to the pleasures of the flesh, as she languished in the highest tower of Blackheath Priory between bouts of tasting Robert’s dragon horn and the hours when she watched her sister lie beneath him, Tavia had taken pains to learn how best she could satisfy the needs of a man.

Robert of Moon Valley was not a patient lover but he was precise and particular. Because they had been drinking dragon horn, an elixir noted for improving the pleasures of sex, he insisted that those pleasures they enjoyed were of an exacting standard from the beginning. He had been meticulous and instructive in every aspect of intercourse. He had gone to great lengths to school Tavia in the proper ways for a woman to use her mouth on a man’s flesh, and the memory of his words now echoed in her thoughts as a reminder of how she could best please Alvar, son of Erland.

She savoured the taste of the seer’s clean sweat, murmuring appreciatively as she worked her tongue from the curls at his balls up to the tip of his erection. Robert of Moon Valley had told her that a man liked to hear murmurs of appreciation from the woman lapping at his length and she felt sure that Alvar would take satisfaction from her sighs of approval. Her hands clutched at his thighs as she pressed her face closer.

It crossed her mind that she wasn’t doing everything just for the pleasure of Alvar. A good deal of what she was doing was adding to the burgeoning swell of her personal satisfaction. A fat balloon of excitement swelled in her stomach. It wasn’t large to the point of bursting – yet. But she knew that moment would soon come and undoubtedly make her crave further pleasures.

His hands fell to her hair.

He tugged at her long, blonde tresses.

Spikes of pain bristled through her scalp. She wanted to brush his hands away, unhappy with the flares of discomfort and not sure she wanted him trying to control her. But she did like that he was exerting some authority. She also wanted to give him a memorable bout of satisfaction, so allowed him to think he was in control.

This was sex without dragon horn.

Tavia knew that sex without dragon horn would only ever be a pale shadow of what she could hope to enjoy until she was again relishing the effects of the elixir’s anise-rich flavour. And, whilst common sense told her that she had to make the experience good for Alvar in order to make it pleasurable for herself, Tavia also knew that Alvar’s enjoyment of this experience was of paramount importance. If the seer was content with the way she pleasured him, he would be more likely to give her the help that came from his gift of second sight.

‘Suck it,’ he groaned. ‘I want to feel your mouth around me.’

She didn’t do as he commanded. There was a difference between making the experience pleasurable for both of them and doing everything that the seer bade.

Once his length was slathered with the wetness from her tongue, she pursed her lips and blew at him again. His erection throbbed with sullen heat. She knew his flesh would be bristling beneath the slick liquid layer of saliva she had lapped against him. As her chilly breath blew against him she knew he would be relishing the rush of warming and cooling sensations.

Briefly she wished she had been born a man, so she could experience some of the magnificent pleasure she was bestowing on the privileged and fortunate seer. Then she shut that thought from her mind, knowing that none of Alvar’s pleasures would ever compare to those that she had enjoyed under the influence of dragon horn, nor those that she planned to savour in the future.

She was squatting in front of him. The hem of her kirtles was hitched up so the red and gold fabrics weren’t touching the dirt of the dungeon floor. Tavia urgently pressed two fingers against the wetness between her legs.

Her flesh was warm and moist.

Her fingers slipped inside with such ease it tore a gasp of surprise from her throat. She pushed deeper, delighted by the way her velvet depths parted to accommodate the plundering fingers. The sensation of being spread and filled was so sudden and intense it left her momentarily breathless.

‘Are you touching yourself?’ he asked.

She moved her mouth from his length. ‘Yes,’ she answered truthfully. ‘Why do you ask?’

She glanced up and saw he was shaking his head in disbelief.

‘You’re possibly the horniest wench I’ve ever encountered. I truly have to see what you’re like when you’re drinking dragon horn because I think you’d likely suck me inside out.’

‘Does that mean I can rely on your fealty to my quest?’ she asked.

‘Suck my cock until I’ve finished,’ he said.

The words were spat with the urgent insistence of a man on the brink of climax. His hands tightened in the blonde tresses they held. He tried to guide her face forcefully to return to his erection.

‘Suck my cock and we can discuss your quest and my fealty once you’ve swallowed every drop of my spend.’

She continued to stare up at him, refusing to let him control how she delivered his pleasure.

‘How do you know I’ll swallow your spend? How do you know I won’t spit your seed to the cobbled stones of the dungeon floor?’

He smiled down at her. ‘I am Alvar, son of Erland,’ he explained. ‘I am the famed seer of the Red River. I was intimate counsel to Kendric of Cambrai Typus. I know the future.’ He chuckled with a confidence so strong it was almost tangible. ‘And you, Tavia of Blackheath, are going to swallow every drop of spend I squirt into your mouth.’

The fingers between her legs pressed with renewed haste. She could hear the faraway squelch of her wetness slurping greedily. As she rubbed back and forth, the blossoming eddies of delight began to sparkle in her hypersensitive nerve-endings. Her inner muscles clenched and convulsed hungrily.

‘Suck me,’ he insisted.

She finally placed her mouth around his end. She stretched her lips wide to encircle his glans. He was large and she found that trait to be exciting. After placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his shaft she sucked lightly against him.

‘At last,’ he sighed. ‘Keep doing that.’

She kept one hand between her own legs whilst the other went to the base of his shaft. Holding him tight between her fingers she worked her mouth wetly back and forth along his length. All the time she tried sucking on him, maintaining a wet vacuum of pressure on his shaft. And, all the time, she could taste the flavour of his nearing climax as it filled her mouth.

‘Go on,’ he insisted. ‘That’s what I want.’

It was impossible to stifle the wet sounds of enthusiasm she was making as she used her mouth on him. She was almost spluttering with the need to giggle happily as she savoured the quickening taste of his excitement and listened to the guttural grunts of his mounting pleasure.

Her fingers rubbed swiftly against her cleft. The inner muscles of her sex were drenched with their liquid heat and the outer lips tingled with the encroaching rush of satisfaction.

‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘Suck me faster. Suck me quicker. Swallow it all, you horny wench. Swallow it all.’

She allowed him to push against the back of her throat.

The swollen end of his length felt too large. Robert had sung the praises of any maiden willing to part-swallow a man’s length. But Tavia wasn’t sure she could manage the feat for Alvar. If there had been dragon horn, she knew the drink would have made her throat muscles relax enough to swallow anything that was put in her mouth.

But, without the dragon horn, she was in unfamiliar territory.

Nevertheless, because it was now important to her that the seer should be deeply satisfied by this encounter, she urged her throat to accept him and she tried to guide his end deeper into her mouth.

‘Damn,’ he gasped. The exclamation came out in a hoarse croak. There was honest reverence in his tone. ‘You know how to pleasure a man, don’t you?’

She said nothing as she pushed her face closer to him.

She was inhaling the musk of his pubic curls. Her throat ached from the pressure of his swollen glans. She fought the gag reflex that made her want to wretch his shaft from her mouth.

But, throughout the month that had passed since she first tasted dragon horn, Tavia did not think any sexual encounter had ever been more satisfying.

She kept the seer at the back of her throat and then swallowed. Her throat muscles clenched down on the bulbous end of his length. For him, she thought, the pressure must have been both exquisite and unbearable.

Alvar groaned. His hands clutched tightly at her scalp.

She felt him pull her face close. And then his length was trembling with the explosion of a climax. The eruption tore itself from her throat as his length pulsed and shivered and then pulled free. A spurt of white-hot ejaculate slathered her tongue and washed the inside of her mouth. She was only just registering the taste, and the rush of cloying wetness, when his length pulsed and spurted again.

‘Damn,’ he croaked.

The whisper of his word was a stark contrast to the power of the ejaculate erupting from his loins.

He spurted a third time.

And a fourth.

Tavia almost choked trying to swallow all the spend he was shooting into her mouth. As soon as she had closed her throat on one thick and creamy mouthful it felt as though he had already filled her cheeks to bulging. She could taste him with every breath and knew the flavour of his climax would be with her for the rest of the day. It was a scent she would happily inhale later when she gently frotted herself to sleep.

That thought made her realise that her fingers had stopped sliding in and out of the wet crease between her legs. Rather than trying to cajole her own pleasure with subtle manipulation she realised there were three fingers jammed deep into her sex. The tips were pushed firm against the deliciously sensitive pad at the front of her innermost muscles.

Tavia squeezed her palm hard against the throbbing nub of her clitoris.

It was as much as she needed to push her body beyond the precipice of pleasure. She gasped and relished the rush of satisfaction as it rippled through her body.

And, although she had tried to maintain her balance whilst she squatted on the floor to suck the seer, an involuntary twitch of her leg muscle sent her sprawling. She cried out in protest, surprised by the way her body was trying to dump her so unceremoniously on the dungeon floor. She snatched her hand hurriedly from her sex in a bid to stop herself from falling.

Alvar caught her with one hand.

She stared at him, surprised to find him holding her wrist.

‘Here,’ he said, helping her to stand. ‘Thank you for pleasuring me so efficiently, Tavia of Blackheath.’

He raised her wrist to his lips and kissed her hand.

It was the hand she had just used to finger herself to climax. His kiss lingered on the wet knuckles. His eyes studied her as his lips continued to caress the oily flesh of her fingers. Slowly, once she was safely standing up, he lowered himself on one knee. At no point did he ever let his lips leave her hand.

‘I pledge my fealty to Tavia of Blackheath and her quest for the dragon horn,’ he declared. ‘Is that what you wanted to hear?’

She allowed him to continue kissing her knuckles, excited by the way he seemed to be lapping the flavour of her sex from her fingers.

‘Your pledge of fealty will do for the moment,’ she allowed. ‘Although I’d appreciate it if you could also tell me how I shall find the source of the dragon horn.’

‘Petition for my release,’ he insisted. ‘Once I’m free from these dungeons then you can put me on the birlinn that the castellan will have waiting in the west harbour. That vessel will transport us both to the source of the dragon horn. But I won’t say any more until you’ve petitioned for my release.’

He climbed up from his knee and kissed her on the lips.

His tongue explored her mouth and she knew he was tasting the remnants of his own ejaculate from her kiss. She was not surprised to feel a stiffness return to his loins as their tongues intertwined and he drank his own flavour. She wondered if he was more excited by the passion of their kiss or his narcissistic delight in tasting himself. It was a cruel and uncharitable thought, she supposed, but that did not mean it was any less accurate.

‘Will we find the source of the dragon horn?’ she demanded. ‘Is it really within our power? How long will it take? And will we be able to get dragon horn into the North Ridings without upsetting my father the castellan?’

Alvar, son of Erland, patted Tavia gently on the rear. He bent down and pulled up his braies, cinching the drawstring tight around his waist.

‘Go and petition for my release,’ he told her. ‘Once I’m a free man I’ll give you all the answers you want.’ His smile was broad with lewd meaning as he added, ‘I’ll give you all the answers you want, and anything else you desire.’

She said nothing.

Although she knew he was a seer, and bound to tell the truth by virtue of his vocation, Tavia was suddenly struck by the worry that it might be unwise to place all her trust in Alvar, son of Erland.

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