A frontal sounds like a good idea

You barely had time to think. Your muscles tensed against the rocks, your mind made a decision, and you found yourself flying at at the knight.

One claw grasped his sword, much heavier than you expected, while the other swatted at his left hand with your claws. You saw his shocked expression as you hefted the sword toward his armor with all the desperation you could muster—

Only for it to clatter helplessly against the metal.

Darkness seized your vision. All your breath was squeezed out of you - his armored hand clutching your scaly neck with the weight of a hundred rocks.

You felt your feet be lifted from the floor as the darkness licked the edges of your vision. You could see his face right in front you, an expression of incredulous surprise at his ability to pluck a dragon off the floor like a chicken to be slaughtered.

Venom. A part of your mind reminded you. You knew it wasn't strong enough to take down a human at your age. But you darted your tongue forward anyway, hoping for any escape from his grip. Your forked tongue tasted his salty lips and brushed between his teeth—

Breath again. He released you with a cough, spitting into your face and mouth.

You slumped toward the floor with a cough yourself, gagging for breath and to dislodge the spit from your mouth. Your weak, scaled arms trembled on the cavern as you knelt between coughs.

The knight stood over you, collecting his sword from the floor and raising it upward in a threatening - but luckily not murderous - gesture. He knew he had you beat. And in his left hand, he once again held the circlet that had been the cause of all this ****.

It had a pink glow now.

But more striking was your reflection in his shining sword. You saw your pink self kneeling in front of him, tongue hanging down, breast forward, small and helpless. The feeling of his spit, the racing anxieties of having just been deprived of breath, all hung in your body. You felt humiliated. Defeated. Conquered.

And in all your fear, anxiety, humiliation - a dagger of arousal pierced through.

He saw it too. Or maybe the circlet did, which pulsed with pink energy greater than before. "I..." he started, gritting his teeth. "You..."

You didn't understand what was going through his mind, giving him such pause.

"You whore," he growled.

A metal hand struck your snout before you could have any reaction. He held his hand firmly on your head, blocking your vision and your mouth. Breath felt scarce again.

Then the armored fingers were shoved into your mouth, filling it with the taste of dirt and metal. "And why shouldn't I..." he muttered with an aggression that struck more sparks of fear into your chest. "...Give you what you deserve."

He shoved half the circlet into your snout, using it to hold the top of your mouth open and your teeth at bay. His armored hand held the bottom, and before you understood what kind of cruel **** he was devising -

The flesh entered your throat.

You could taste musk, sweat, and human flesh. It hammered into the back of your throat with a rough rhythm that made no appeals to your own comfort.

You could hear him grunt as he slid it over your tongue, salty liquid joining the sensation. You gagged again and again, feeling a strange pressure building up throughout your body. A fight or flight response again - but one that almost bid you to stay. You could hardly understand the feeling.

Finally, after almost an eternity, he released the awkward grip of your mouth, extracting his member. It hit the top of your snout, brushing next to your eyes, as he did so.

"Good," he said between breaths. "I know you want this."

You stared at him with frightened eyes, a bright warmth seizing your scaled cheeks. You panted, whether from lack of breath or something else you couldn't tell.

A hand on your neck again. Breath gone. Your body pushed against the rocks. Vision pointed to the cavern walls.

You tried to adjust your neck forward, to look at him, but his heavy hand beneath your head stopped you. In periodic pulses it clasped your throat ever harder, sending ripples of panic and excitement through you as your breath kept being cut off.

You feel him entering you. Heat, shock, humiliation, pleasure. There's no thoughts left in you now, no resistance. The rough floor, the hand against your throat, the human cock entering you like a hunter devouring its prey. You could hear yourself whimpering as you try to breathe - a sound you never thought a dragon could ever make.

He thrusts into you again and again as the **** continues. Your body is slammed against the rocky cavern floor again and again, your eyes keep fluttering, your breath at his complete mercy and your entire body a boiling cauldron of humiliation and lust. Of the emotions of prey, of submission.

For a moment, he releases your neck and moves his hand to your breast, roughly gripping it. Pain stings your chest as he continues to press his weight anymore, but is quickly transformed into pleasure. You could feel tears and sweat emerging from your face, and you feel like nothing more than some kind of stuffed toy being torn apart by playful wolves.

Every thrust destroys you. Every thrust completes you. Waves of pleasure start to bury you as the penetration becomes more and more intense. You gasp, every breath creating something between a cry and a moan.

He notices. You know he notices. You know you have become less than a dragon, something lower, something...

You feel warmth in you. More than ever. He grunts, making one final spearing thrust into you. His body presses closer to you than it ever did, and you can feel his sweat and smell every bit of humanity on him as his face covers against yours. He spits into your face.

The warmth spreads. You shake. Lightning throughout your body. You squeal. Every limb twitches. His hand grabs your throat again. You have never felt more electric than now.

You can't think. You can't feel. All you know is that he rises, separates himself from you. His hand is still on your scaled throat, holding on, tugging, bringing you as your vision fades.