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A tremor runs through me as I realize this is actually him being merciful in some way. He has affection for me. He didn’t let me die in the woods. Not even when I was going to let myself die. He wants me intact. He wants to keep me. And right now, he wants to fuck me.

He drops the lash, but keeps his hand on the back of my neck, keeping me in place over the fallen tree. I feel him spread my legs with one thigh.

“Keep them open,” he says. “Or I will lash them as well.”

“So mean,” I whimper.

His claws clench in my hair, pulling my head up as he leans in, his voice deep and rough in my ear.

“Mean? Is it mean to punish you when you deserve to be punished? To finally give you the discipline you have needed forever? I don’t think this is mean, Melissa. I think this is the most loving thing anybody has ever bothered to do for you.”

With that, he runs his scaled cock along the slit of my pussy. I am drenched with desire. I didn’t know I was this wet. I didn’t know anything other than the fact that my ass hurts like hell and it’s probably going to hurt for quite a long time.

This time when he mates me, he doesn’t care about the fact that I am tender. The fact that I am sore from having sex twice in a matter of hours is no longer a bug, it is a feature.

I whimper as my pussy stretches yet again, his cock feeling bigger, thicker, and even more dominating than before. Is it possible that I am being fucked in an even more intensely powerful way than before? Yes. The strokes are rougher and faster, but the girth feels wider too.

I ache as he pounds me against the tree, his hands on either side of me, his hips arching and slamming forward time and time again, driving his cock as deep as it can go inside me.

He does not play with my clit, stroke my hair, rub my back, or soothe me. He uses me. He punishes me. He fucks me, leaving my pleasure to me, to the rubbing of my clit against the hard round of the tree. I don’t come before he does. I get close. Torturously, tragically close, but not quite there before he is once again filling me up, giving me another dose of that semen that makes me instantly soften. It does not take the pain away, but it makes my sense of submission deepen.

Tears are running down my face, my shoulders are shaking as he pulls his cock from me, letting hot seed run down my aching thighs.

Ornix

She sobs in place, shedding tears that might show contrition for her misbehavior, but also that might merely show that she is sad she was punished.

I have no intention of spoiling my mate, little human wretch with a penchant for mischief that she is. My intention is to discipline her into a kind of mate who will be happy, well behaved, and most of all, appropriate.

She is chastised, and she is sorry for herself, and I am sure she thinks I am a monster for treating her this way, but she needs her dose of seed.

I slap her bottom, knowing it will reignite the sting, and similarly knowing she deserves it. She must be taught never to run, and though I have whipped and fucked her thoroughly, I am afraid I have still not made enough of an impression. She has not chosen to be here, and that makes even this wingless little creature a flight risk.

She lets out a little whine, a pitiful sound. If I take pity on her, it might show her that I can be merciful, but I do not know if mercy is what she needs so much as discipline. Harsh discipline. The kind that does not allow for any misbehavior at all.

It’s not what I wanted to do, but finding myself in the middle of a forest is not where I wanted to be either. I have to do what needs to be done, and if a few harsh whippings and rough matings are what is necessary to ensure she understands the virtues of obedience, then that is what I will do.

I hear a soft sob, and what follows is a deep sense of guilt. I was harsh with her. Rough with her. I am sure she will be feeling the effects of my punishment inside and out for hours and maybe days to come.

This was her second breeding. Another must take place within a relatively short period of time to ensure she gains the full protective effects of my seed. That is going to be difficult to achieve without hurting her now.

Hm.

Should have thought of that.

The fear I felt when I saw her on the precipice of being hacked to death was more primal than any I have felt before. In truth, I do not think I have truly known fear before this moment. I have never had anything precious to lose before. My reign in the kingdom has been largely peaceful, and I have never been as attached to my life as I am to hers.

She has become everything to me, instantly, all at once. We are bonded deeply, and we are becoming deeper and deeper evermore connected.

When the third breeding takes place, I will worry a little less, but not entirely. It will stop her from aging, but it will not stop her from being smacked in the head with a rusty bludgeon.

Her sense of self-preservation must be bolstered. She must be taught to stay far from danger, to never allow herself to be in a position where she can be badly hurt. I can do this only through the harshest discipline. I would rather she hated me every day of my life and hers than ever put herself in this position again.

I reach out, scruff her by the back of the neck to pull her away from the tree, and pull her skirt down into a semblance of propriety. She isn’t even dressed for the weather. A decent frost could have taken her out.

“I cannot safely bring you and the horse back in my dragon-flight form, and I will not abandon the faithful beast for the actions of a faithless one. So you and I will go back on foot. All three of us, together. You, me, and Otto.”

“The horse’s name is Otto?” She sniffs adorably as she asks the question.