Teeth and What they Spare

Valentina collapsed into dream.

A lonely place, haunted by ghosts and ringed by bones. Rib bones, sticking up out of dry ground. The ground itself ash, but nearly the color of the mountains snow. The sun above was baring down on her, just off kilter enough to leave every bone casting shadow.

Large bones. Dragon bones. Each individual rib taller than Valentina herself. Many of the ribs nearly as thick around as her body. And each of them carved with little gnaw marks. The imprints of her mouth and teeth.

How many humans had eaten dragonflesh and survived? Valentina tried to look down upon herself and saw nothing. No hands. No legs. She let her eyes unfocus a moment, and could see no nose between her eyes.

In her own dream she was absent. Invisible. Recorded only by the pain she caused in others, memorialized only by what she had consumed.

That invisibility in dream wasn't entirely new, what dreams she remembered were often of other people. Of knights, of other princesses, never herself. Valentina had never felt herself worth dreaming about.

Or perhaps, like the dream of agency, she never could conceive of herself in dreams. The idea that she existed, that she mattered, that she could even be the protagonist of her story an alien thought. She reached out a hidden hand to press against the nearest rib.

The rib shook and moved, but it was not a natural movement. It did not move as if touched, it moved as if blown by idle wind.

Valentina thought back, trying to remember any dream where she had existed, any dream where she had presence. Where she was more than a silent observer.

She couldn't.

And so she walked through the bone fields. The ground tasteless in texture. The only impression the warmth of the sun above, baking flesh that was otherwise unnoted.

She looked about, for any landmark beyond the bones. For any distant castle, for any other protagonist, any other princess or other dragon she might shadow.

There were naught but bones. The dream story was open, she could take any path, she could travel in any direction. She was trapped in opportunity without consequence.

There was only one action that seemed to push the story forward. To push the dream forward. She walked to the largest of the rib bones. She opened her silent jaws.

And she bit down, crunching and splintering bone.

Valentina was unseen in this place. But what was unseen was undefined. When she bit, her presence was made clear. As her jaws crushed and splintered the bone.

Snapping it in two. With jaws that were no longer human. If they ever were.

Valentina opened her eyes. She was inside the cave, where it was safe. The fires had died down, but she was still warm. She had fallen asleep across Vakenroth's back. Yet unlike previous slumber, the dragon had not left her.

Vakenroth was warm and massive underneath her, the largest bed she had ever had. And the most persistent companion of the same. She reached her arms wide, unable to fully grasp him, but hugging tight what she could.

She rubbed her jaws against his flesh, and found them still their usual shape. Valentina had dreamed herself something different. Something inhuman. But the shape of her was still as it was before.

Vakenroth stirred uncomfortably beneath her jaws. Anticipating and perhaps allowing a second bite from...

What was Valentina now? She had called Vakenroth her wife. And she had meant it, not just as a partner, but in the gendered application of such. Not just a partner, but a possession as well.

The woman as the lesser thing. That she had claimed. Did that make her the husband?

She gave a short laugh, and then a kiss to Vakenroth's back. The dragon relaxed a time.

She had so many questions, and Vakenroth might answer them.

"Tell me of dragon women." Valentina finally spoke.

Vakenroth stirred, raising himself up slightly, and raising Valentina with him. "What of them?" He countered, not quite sure what Valentina asked.

Valentina took a moment to consider her words. There were things she had been taught about women, but they never seemed to apply to herself, nor her sister Theodora. She wondered for the first time if they applied to anyone at all.

"Are they strong?" She started.

"Yes." Vakenroth replied, starting to slowly pace around his lair, but making no attempt to shake Valentina off his back. Valentina herself shifted, getting a better grip with her thighs and hands.

"Stronger than male dragons?" Valentina didn't know where that question came from.

"Often. Yes." Vakenroth answered, not quite understanding where the question came from.

The idea that women were stronger, could be stronger burned slowly in Valentina's mind. "But not always?"

"It is impossible to say. Dragons grow strong as they age, as they devour. Most I have known who were strong were women, but there are always exceptions."

"Do you mainly know women? What about your father?" Valentina asked, slowly petting Vakenroth's scales as the two of them spoke.

"I never met mine." Vakenroth said with little concern or care. "I was raised by my mother Terazhaak, and some of my siblings. There were other males from time to time."

That was the first time Valentina had heard the name of Vakenroth's mother. She had heard the name before, of course. Who hadn't? Terazhaak was a dragon from ancient tales, the old tyrant of the continent who had been slain by a knight true.

All the tales said Terazhaak was male. Or at least such was implied. Terazhaak was known for his cruelty, his unnatural lusts and the intensity of his flames.

"Your mother was Terazhaak? But she died a thousand years ago." Valentina replied in confusion.

"Terazhaak isn't dead." Vakenroth answered with confusion as well. "Why would you think her so?"

"There were so many stories about Terazhaak as a tyrant that ruled these lands. But all of them ended in her ****. Though... the stories said she was male."

"Hardly. And human stories tend to tell what humans wish to hear. Terazhaak did claim this territory once, long ago, but she left for more fertile lands. When I was of age, she told me of her old lair, and I claimed it as my own."

This cave was once Terazhaak's.

And Valentina had claimed Terazhaak's child as her wife. There was a strange feeling of pride, a smugness of a variety that Valentina had rarely felt before.

"Have you met any as strong as Terazhaak? As strong as your mother?" Valentina asked looking about the lair, feeling a little taller at the thoughts.

"No. Though some of my siblings are comparable."

"How many siblings do you have?"

"Ten that I know of. Some are dead."

"And the women are the strongest of them?"

"Largely. Yes."

"And Terazhaak has had..." Valentina paused, the question felt strange on her lips. "wives before?"

Vakenroth laughed. "Yes. Though that is not our word for it." Vakenroth considered for a time. "A more direct translation would be 'Flesh I Have Not Yet Devoured', but the nuance of such is lost. A word closer in meaning would be consort."

"Was your father a consort?"

"Yes. Though she ate him before I could remember."

Valentina blinked. The term was rather literal. "Did she eat many of her other consorts?"

"Some. Some she let escape. You have asked for restraint between the two of us, yet such restraint is not expected." He began, speaking more openly now than before. "You saw how I lashed out when irritated. Terazhaak has done much the same. Though rather more thoroughly."

"And your father annoyed her and she ate him?"

"Yes."

"Are you upset about that?"

"Why would I be?"

It had all happened before Vakenroth could remember. That father had never been in his life, had never made an impact. It was clear that it was his mother who had mattered.

"Once you sounded upset..." Valentina began.

"Only once?" Vakenroth exhaled smoke in a gesture like laughter.

"That my mother hadn't trained me to hunt and kill."

"Yes. Your mother failed you."

Valentina blinked. Vakenroth considered Valentina's mother, Queen Varisa a lesser mother than Terazhaak the dread? Even after Terazhaak had devoured his father?

Valentina took a long moment. She wasn't entirely sure she disagreed.

"Did your mother fail you?"

There was a longer pause.

"No..." But there was a qualifier to it.

"I failed her." Vakenroth continued and then exhaled. "I am a runt... a weakling. A shame to the brood as a whole."

Valentina blinked before moving down and kissing along Vakenroth's spine. It was strange, how similar the two of them had been. Though worrying that Vakenroth, as terrible as he could be, was considered a weakling to other dragons.

"She should have trained me better." Vakenroth said, the words laced with self-derision. "Or had me killed. A few of my other siblings tried, but she defended me. A weakness on her part."

The rivalry of siblings was something Valentina was familiar with. "What happened next?"

"Eventually... a choice. If I lingered longer, she would claim my flesh." She would make her own son her bride.

"She would fuck you?" Valentina asked in alarm, though not outright condemnation.

"She might. Or she might skip such things so as not to encourage my weakness." Vakenroth was grumpy about the whole subject, but still willing to speak.

"But it would end with your ****. With her eating you." Valentina concluded.

"Yes. And so I left instead."

"And that brought you here, to her old lair." Vakenroth's opposition to the human kingdoms was starting to make more sense, this was all a chance to prove himself. To tame the lands which his mother abandoned. Or to die in the attempt.

"In time. Yes."

"How much of this treasure is hers?" Valentina asked.

Vakenroth twisted his body about, snapping out with his jaws, suddenly threatening Valentina with gory ****. His speed was terrible, his whole body acting before the thought of defiance even crossed Valentina's mind.

But Valentina did move, sluggish as she was, slipping over to Vakenroth's shoulder, far enough that Vakenroth couldn't shift his head and latch down.

She stayed there a moment, gathering her breath. Waiting for the moment. There was a twitch of muscle along Vakenroth's neck, before the rest of the neck moved as consequence.

And at that muscle twitch Valentina lept, crashing down upon the back of Vakenroth's head, gripping tight his brow and digging her boots against his flesh, holding on through this moment of ****.

It took her a moment to ground herself on the thrashing dragon. But finally her grip was secure enough that she risked a hand free, bringing it down, brandishing it as a claw, and holding it in front of Vakenroth's eye.

"Sit." She growled in threat.

There were a few more thrashings and gnashing of teeth, before finally Vakenroth settled back onto the ground.

"I was clumsy in my wording." Valentina nearly apologized. "Most of these treasures are new, within the past five centuries. This was clearly your hoard, not some token you inherited."

There was a grumble of acknowledgement from the dragon below.

"Was your hoard." Valentina clarified. "It is my hoard now. And all who dwell within it."

Vakenroth paused, as if paralyzed. The very thought offensive, profane, yet that very profanity appealing in its brazenness.

"As long as you are my flesh..." Valentina whispered, dragging her teeth slowly across Vakenroth's scales. "I will let you stay here in my lair. I will let you make use of my treasures." Her tone seductive.

"Until the day I devour you whole." A day that could never come.

Vakenroth calmed, laying out on the ground.

"Good boy. Good wife." Valentina continued, rubbing her hand slowly across a protrusion of scale. "Now roll over, on your back." She demanded before leaping off and to the side.

Vakenroth delayed, but did what he was told, exaggerating his movements so that even in his submission, Valentina had to dodge out of the way of his wings, had to guard herself from the spray of dislodged coins.

Yet even with these minor acts of protest built in, he still obeyed. He still showed Valentina his belly, his neck. His genital slit with his cock just starting to poke free.

Valentina walked closer to his side, reaching up to pet Vakenroth's chest. "I noticed." She offered.

"Noticed what?" Vakenroth asked while stirring.

"You expressed discomfort without trying to kill me." Vakenroth had lashed out at her, he had made moves to bite her, yet he had chosen a poor angle for the attack. He had made efforts that she could easily evade.

Vakenroth only grunted in response.

Valentina walked along his side, trailing her fingers across the Dragon's flesh. "I was so tired, that after we last fucked, I fell asleep." Again a near apology.

"Yes." Vakenroth replied.

"You stayed this time."

"Yes." Vakenroth answered again, not elaborating on his reasons.

"I was glad to see you when I woke." Valentina said as she finally reached Vakenroth's lower legs, inspecting the limb, the powerful muscles hidden away behind so much armored scale. Tracing the form and shape, learning how it all connected together.

"I..." Vakenroth began. "Enjoy your presence at times."

"And at times you don't. I understand. I too have grown to enjoy my solitude." Valentina offered, thinking back to the long hours alone with her books, to the song of birds outside her window.

"Yet solitude alone is rather dull" It was better now, she had exchanged one cage for another and made this new cage her own.

"You leave when you have had enough, when you get overwhelmed." Valentina labeled the unsaid.

"Yes." Vakenroth did not deny.

Valentina walked along Vakenroth's side further, past his legs, trailing her hands along his tail. Fingers testing the muscle, the strength of it, bending the flesh and testing its flexibility.

Vakenroth allowed this exploration.

"I want to encourage this. I think the occasional distance is healthy for us both." And distance gave her more time to explore her new treasure hoard.

"Yet I will not be confined to the cave alone." Valentina stated, finally coming to the tip of that tail. The very end of it tapered to a point, the last length of tail much smaller than the rest. No thicker than her wrist.

Large. But workable.

"You wish to escape?" Vakenroth asked with a growl, uncertain. While Valentina had claimed him as her wife, their old arrangement was still intact. The wife and the sacrifice, both bound together with threat of **** and possession.

"Hardly. I want to hunt with you. I want you to teach me, as your mother Terazhaak once taught you." Valentina said, as she shifted her stance, sliding that very tail tip between her thighs, rubbing herself slowly across that bit of muscle, bone and scale. Showing just how glad she was that Vakenroth remained.

Taking her pleasure from his flesh.

"You are strong." Vakenroth admitted. Stronger than a dragon runt at least. "Yet you are limited. Your stride is short, you have no wings at all. Your teeth are dull. Do you think you could hunt anything at all?" The dragon was doubtful, and calling upon pride reflexively.

Even as his tail twitched between Valentina's thighs.

"Stronger than any man." Man as a people, not as a gender, how quickly all others were clumped in under that masculine default. "And men hunt despite the dullness of their teeth. With tools and hound." Despite their relative frailty, men had killed more than expected.

Even dragons according to legend. Yet such legends had been exaggerated.

"What tool and what hound?" Vakenroth laughed with an expulsion of steam.

Valentina patted her belt of fire giant strength. "Tool." And then she clenched her thighs tighter, starting to crush Vakenroth's tail in her grasp. "Hound."

Vakenroth gave a low rumbling growl back in response. A warning perhaps that Valentina had drawn near an area of lethal offense, yet there was no protest beyond just that.

"Yet I do not wish to hunt as men do. I wish to hunt as you do. And I will use tools as necessary to do so."

"You think yourself a dragon now?" Vakenroth asked, shifting the muscles of his tail, lifting Valentina up off the ground with languid ease. It was for such pride that Vakenroth had attacked Valentina's kingdom, had **** them to sacrifice Valentia herself.

"Would you rather be the flesh wife of a dragon or a small girl?" Valentina countered, bringing her hands down to grip that tail, balancing herself on this precarious perch. After a moment she found steadiness, and started to rub herself once more.

She had grown to enjoy this external rubbing. Pressing down upon the dragon's tail or spine or neck. Using the rigidness of him to press against. But the songs and poems of weddings and trysts spoke of some deeper carnality.

Vakenroth's cock was far too large for Valentina to take inside. As were the dragons massive claws, each limb easily comparable to the whole of Valentina's body.

Such an intrusion was impossible. And while Valentina had pushed her fist inside of Vakenroth, there was an itch inside her belly that had yet to be scratched.

"Vakenroth. Lower your tail once more. And become very still, move only as I direct. I wish to try something."

Vakenroth grunted, but did as she asked, lowering his tail, and Valentina upon it to the ground.

Valentina slid forward a step, as the tail grew thicker than her thigh and then all the larger still. Before she reached back, grabbing the very tip of tail and curving it upward, towards the roof of the cave.

It was still far too large for Valentina to take. Even the most experienced of whores would look at such a tail with caution.

Valentina was done with caution.

She dragged herself back and then slowly raised herself up, feeling that scale texture across her cheeks, across her taint, and finally dragging across her pussy lips...

Until she found the tip. "Still." She demanded again. Valentina did not wish to be injured enough to require another healing potion. She didn't know how many Vakenroth had left, and they were a valuable resource, not to be squandered on something so wasteful.

She moved her hips slowly, dragging her petals slowly across that tip, feeling the hardened tail brush against her own soft spongy flesh. Valentina had never felt a dick before Vakenroth's, beyond a few external fumblings.

The dicks of men were soft things, the vaunted hardness but a more firm sort of sponge. Rigid with need and desire, yet not as much with substance. Vakenroth's own cock was much the same, though with the occasional hardened bits of texture along the shaft.

But this tail? The tail was hard. Slick now with Valentina's arousal. She knew that Vakenroth would get no pleasure from this act directly, yet she was sure that her mate felt the same welling of desire in his belly.

Impossible to ignore.

The poetic demand of consummation.

She lowered herself slowly. And missed. Pushing hardened tail against soft tissue. And she tried again. And again. Each time the descent coming with a lasting soreness.

Until she found the path. And split herself open.

There was a great mystery to virgins. An obsession and worship of them, a coveting. A method of control. The image of the virginal bride, piously bleeding on the bedsheets. Suffering reserved only for her fated husband.

The idea of claiming. Of ruining. Of transforming a girl into a woman, as if a man's cock was the only measure of worth, of maturity a girl could aspire to.

It was a gift, a prize to be given away. The rose, the flower of it all, a pretty metaphor that made Valentina sick. There was resemblance between the inner labia and the petals of flowers, of the more lurid of orchids.

Yet with a rose, the resemblance faded. An orchid was to be admired, to be pollinated.

A rose was to be plucked.

Harvested and shown off, like so many stained bedsheets over open window.

Valentina had rubbed against men, or at least boys who could barely be regarded as such. She had taken pleasure in their presence, in the strength of their thighs. And she had taken such pleasure in Vakenroth as well.

Often while digging her fingers into his flesh.

Yet she had never once been plucked. Her womanhood had remained 'pure' and untainted. A prize to be stolen, or to be sold. And finally sold it was, to this terrible dragon beneath her.

A dragon who did not have the finesse to pluck a single flower.

What hymen Valentina might have had, she was sure, had stretched and expressed itself years ago. During horseback riding and fox hunts and the like, in what meager physical activity she had performed.

She had intended to, upon getting married, spill out a bit of pig’s blood as proof of her virtue.

Yet here, with Vakenroth, with the sheer scale of this penetration, there was no need for subterfuge. Valentina bled.

Valentina’s virginity was not taken from her. She was not plucked. She was not some idle flower to be displayed on a windowsill as it slowly died of thirst.

This act was hers to claim. Her body, her own. Her virginity, whatever strange mystique others might have ascribed to it?

Her own to discard.

Her own reward..

Valentina would ride her wife until she was satisfied.

While the dragon beneath laid back, still and passive.

The bride that Valentina had claimed.