Prologue
“He still has the human?”
A rough voice asked the question, more than a hint of amusement and disbelief in its rumbling tones.
There was an answering laugh that sounded like a small eruption in the twilight of the setting sun. “He does. He thinks she can be trained.”
Two largely human forms held their discussion on the small fortified bank of a mountain’s edge, their golden catlike eyes scanning the horizon of the planet that would soon be theirs. They wore no clothing, their nakedness a point of pride rather than shame.
They had much to be proud of. Their physiques were chiseled, their faces sculpted in intense expressions that remained elegant at rest. They were burly and bulky with powerful shoulders narrowing to fit waists. They were warriors. Every inch of them had been created for battle. Cast in the low light of the setting sun, one would have been forgiven for mistaking them for young gods.
“Is training the same as mating her?”
“That is how humans learn, so General Vyktor says,” the warrior laughed. “Makes you curious what she must feel like around your rod.”
“He’ll tear your throat out if you try to find out,” his comrade replied. “He’s more possessive of her than he is of his jewels.”
“Gentlemen.”
A deeper, gruffer voice interrupted the warriors’ salacious discussion of their commander as the very man they had been talking about had stepped out onto the mountainside ledge.
General Vyktor was an impressive specimen in either of his forms and he commanded their respect easily, no simple task. His golden eyes seared into them both, their postures changing instantly as he walked toward them. Where they had stood tall, heads high, now they bowed them in an unmistakable show of respect.
Their commander was a handsome man. He had a broad face with high cheekbones, strong nose, and a powerful jaw. He looked upon his men with great golden eyes, surveying them with a knowing stare. He was far from the oldest among them, but Vyktor had made his mark upon the war band early and had risen to one of the highest ranks before most dragons his age were considering leaving their parents’ nest. He had defended that rank ably for many years, and there were few who would cross him. Certainly not these two warriors with their eyes now fixed at his feet.
Dragon warriors respected one thing: strength. Every inch of the young general’s body was powerful. He had a bearing that spoke to the strength he had shown in many battles both in this simple realm and in their own lands. He was naked as they were, his manhood swinging heavy between his thighs.
“I will be presenting my pet for her discipline momentarily,” he announced. “If you would proceed to the chamber, I wish to have a full audience.”
The warriors did not need a second invitation. They thanked the general and made their way into the chamber that had been prepared for the purpose of displaying the general’s pet. There was a raised platform, encircled in bars that would not have stopped a dragon for a moment, but against which Vyktor’s pet was helpless.
As they filed in and took their places, the naked young human woman looked at them with a spirited glower. She was captured, but she was far from broken. Her arms were chained above her head, her feet shackled to the ground, not so tight that she would be in pain, but more than tight enough to ensure that every inch of her beautiful body was bare to their gaze. Humans were so soft and so curvy. The flare of her hips, the swell of her bottom and her breasts drew their eyes inexorably. Her legs were slightly parted, and a keen eye would have noticed the sheen of desire marked high on her inner thighs.
The dragon men looked on with curiosity and desire. No prisoners had been taken before this one. It had been forbidden. Of course, General Vyktor was above such decrees. He was free to take anything he pleased. And this human had pleased him. They watched as he stepped into the cage with her, saw how she reacted to him with a soft quivering sigh.
“My pet has misbehaved,” Vyktor declared, laying a slap on her bottom. She gasped, biting her pink lower lip as she squirmed naked on the spot. “She believes that her obedience is contingent upon her desire to be obedient. We are here to prove otherwise to her.”
He landed another hard slap and the pretty human hissed, squirming in her bonds.
“That hurts,” she complained, her pout aimed at Vyktor.
The dragons exchanged smirks. This human had no idea who she was truly dealing with. Vyktor was first among his legion. He was one of the bravest warriors to ever enter battle—and he was not known for his mercy. He was being incredibly gentle with her, and she did not seem to know it. The little love taps that left her cheeks blushing were delivered at a fraction of the intensity he was capable of, and they were doing little other than stimulating her body to bloom beneath his palm.
The soft curves of her body flowed in a slow squirm as Vyktor slid his hand from her bottom and caressed her flank, hip, and breast. His eyes were locked on hers, demanding her attention, commanding her will.
“You forget your place, pet,” he said in soft censure.
Again, the dragons raised brows at one another. Had she ever truly known it? Humans were headstrong at the best of times, but the one Vyktor had taken as his pet was truly willful. He should have known she would be; she was one of the few humans who had taken to the skies in an effort to do battle with them—as unequal a fight as could be imagined, except perhaps for the battle of wills taking place before them now.
She strained at her chains as the dragon general caressed her body, his touch making her react in a thousand little ways, many of which were entirely involuntary. She could not stop her breath from quickening. She could not stop her pupils from dilating. She could not even seem to stop the natural arch of her hips and the spreading of her legs—an undeniable invitation to mate.
The dragon cohort had been skeptical at first when Vyktor told them of his plans to take and train a human, but there could be no denying it now. She was utterly in thrall to him, as much as she might want to resist it at times, even outright disobey, she could not stop herself from reacting precisely as he intended.
The general’s fingers dipped between her thighs, found her hot, wet tightness, and once again the dance of discipline began…