Dragon sweat – Next scroll

Somehow Hal found the presence of mind to look for his garments amidst the torn remains of the riding net, only to be swiftly rebuked by his monarch.

“You no longer need those rags, Duke Merlinus. The cloak will suffice until you reach the palace and then we shall outfit you better.”

Merlinus … Merlinus? Why that name? True, the shitbucket family had a Tiberian name of Merdinus, now almost as forgotten as the long gone monks who’d bestowed it. A suitable name, since merdus was Tiberian for shit. But Merlinus — was it because he was going to be allowed to fly with Josephine again, allowed to fly like a hawk? May the Gods make it so, for this seemed to be a day on which anything might happen.

But the sight of Morgana le Fay’s luscious hips swaying ahead of him was enough to make his glowing hopes fade like the sun hidden by gathering storm clouds. The likes of her were for warlocks and knights and persons of royal blood. Now he seemed to be trapped between King and witch and as sure as cats ate mice, one or t’other would have his balls spit roasted ere long. Perhaps she’d laugh at his love making attempts so much that he’d fail, despite the dragon sweat. Perhaps the trough water had made it so weak by now that the power had completely gone and King, warlock, witch, soldiers and girls alike would jeer at his cock as it drooped like a melting candle. A boy’s ending for all of his proud boasts of manhood, and with all the kingdom to hear and laugh about it afterwards.

He sidled over against Josephine, the Corporal close behind him at every step, Clint O’The East Wood’s finger never leaving the trigger of his oversized magnum bolt crossbow. Hal desperately wanted to slip his hand underneath the dragon’s wing to seek for a trace of sweat but there was no chance of doing it unobserved. Hal felt a sudden and unexpected anger burning inside him at being so closely guarded. Mayhap he’d teach these soldiers another lesson in dragon power before long.

“My lady, go and clean yourself. When you return I may wish you to warm the water in your trough for me again. If so, you must do it as hard as you can.”

A twirling pattern of interrogation swirled around her neck, a question only he knew she was asking. In return, he winked when only she could see him: “Yes, Josephine, as hard as you can. Now fly — and be back soon.”

The dragon lurched forward, drove down her wings in a flurry of movement and swept upwards, her sails smacking against the air as though applauding herself for leaving the ground behind. Hal watched Josephine rise up into the afternoon sunlight with an aching heart. The ever alert corporal noticed Hal’s sad expression.

“What’s amiss, young Duke?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders: “Why, to see my dragon fly whilst I cannot leave the ground.”

Clint O’The East Wood laughed: “Duke, how can a man want to fly? Do you want a nest with eggs to sit on as well?”

For the very first time Hal understood that he was closer to Josephine than he was to many of his own kind. Why, perhaps he was even closer to the witch as well. She might be evil incarnate but at least she was a flier too. Not that her broomstick seemed good for much just then, but perhaps it could be repaired and remagicked. If it could be …

For a second Hal dreamed of learning how to fly a broomstick. To flash over rooftops and meadows, around trees and across lakes, screaming past gaggles of geese and flying so high that the mountains themselves crouched down beneath your feet. All the filth and cruelty and everyday battles of life left below as he explored the kingdom of the sky, a kingdom which over-arched and over-reached all earthly ones. A fine dream, especially for a shit smeared boy who owned nothing in the world but a borrowed cloak. And then he was back at the dragon’s barn again.

For some reason everybody else hung back and let Hal walk in first, even though Josephine was only a faraway dot in the sky. Yet the caution which most other people showed in approaching a dragon’s lair still seemed to be having its effect because only the girls walked in close behind him. Hal stepped into the sandpit and drew his toes through the still damp sand, then looked up, exchanging rueful looks with the sisters. How much had changed so quickly. Truth to tell, he was in no obvious position to complain. Dubbed a Duke, gaining a witch for a slave, praised by the King — whatever the dangers to come, it was still far better treatment from the Gods than Caelia and Chelinde had received: orphaned, unprotected and lusted after by a King who treated his dogs far better than his women. Hal had never intended their misfortunate but it left a bitter taste in his mouth after the joy the girls had given him.

“What are we to do?” Chelinde asked him, looking suddenly grown up and serious.

“Why, only what we did before. But first you’d best serve as Morgana’s hand maidens. There are two pieces of soap left. One for her, one for me.”

“And afterwards? What we did before, Hal? With all these soldiers watching?”

“Aye, and the King too, lass — tis a Royal Command performance.”

The boy smiled and lifted his hand to chuck her under the chin, but paused as he saw the filth on his fingers and the momentarily revealed loathing in her eyes as she glanced to where the King was entering the barn.

“Be of good heart, girls. What matters who watches if we enjoy ourselves? And what I can do for you later, I promise I will do.”

Hal went to the trough, splashed his fingers in it, pondered. The water was still warm — or, at least, not cold. He filled both drinking buckets and set them down in the sandpit. Then he turned towards the witch and gulped.

For the first time since his one swift glimpse of her riding the broomstick he looked as a man at the magnificent shape underneath the clinging mud. Her breasts were pillows compared to Chelinde’s dumplings, her unskirted legs promised delights beyond belief… he gulped again, and decided that perhaps the dragon sweat was still potent, even at a touch.

“Lie down on the straw, Morgana. On your back.”

Her eyes glittering with repressed emotions, the witch obeyed.

“Take off your cloak, Chelinde. Spread it over her.”

The girl’s face was almost as angry as the witch’s as she undid the throat cord, but she obeyed, her and her sister spreading the cloak over Morgana’s body. Then Chelinde stood self-consciously, hands by her side and eyes downcast as she tried to ignore the soldiers lining each side of the barn, each of them grinning at her nakedness and with no threatening dragon around this time to distract them from studying it closely.

“Your cloak too, Caelia. Strip Morgana and then clean her with the water and the cloak, as well as you can. Mayhap some straw will help as well.”

The King grinned but raised no objection at taking another look at the sisters in her raw state. Nor did he seem to mind that the girls were reaching underneath Hal’s cloak to get at the witch’s indecent attire. King Argud was a hunter and enjoyed the thrill of a drawn out chase. His soldiers also licked their lips as they saw the swaying tits and taut bottoms of the figures kneeling at either side of the cloak to fumble with Morgana’s tight fitting leathers.

“Help them, witch,” Hal ordered.

She looked at him, for a second only, and it was like being forehead to forehead with a mad bull. But her hands moved swiftly under the cloak, undoing the lashings which held her garments in place, then rolling from one side to another as she helped Caelia and Chelinde tug her jerkin over her arms. Hal would have liked to have kept watching but the desire to start removing the filth from his own body was even more compelling than staring at Morgana’s movements underneath the cloak. So he took his cloak off, seized two handfuls of straw and began rubbing down his arms and legs.

Straw and sand and water, straw and sand and water, over and over, tickling and scraping and soothing his skin in turn as black rings of removed corruption spread around him. Then the King’s voice boomed out in glee.

“Plenty of sand for her as well, girls, all over her tits. I want them as smooth as your arses.”

As spoke several of the soldiers closest to the straw pile also dared to smile in approval. They looked as they were spellbound as they kept gaping at the straw. But when Hal looked himself at the wet cloak sticking to the now naked body below it he decided that the audience was literally bewitched. There were curves and hollows and a sheer symmetry of female shape underneath the damp wool that was more magical than anything a warlock could conjure up, be he the greatest adept ever. Chelinde and Caelia put their hands beneath the cloak again to rub Morgana’s large tits, setting them shuddering and swaying around. The witch whimpered as he nipples were scoured and every soldier lucky enough to be able to see her instantly summoned up his blood and stiffened his sinews. In fact most of them were already more tightly cocked than their cross bows.

Hal grabbed his cloak and began wiping the traces of sand and wisps of straw from his skin. But his eyes stayed on the females, noting the increasingly coy way that even Morgana was glancing towards her watchers. Surely a witch couldn’t be affected by the dragon sweat like any normal chit of a girl? But there hadn’t been any dragons around since time out of mind and maybe witches knew no more about them than anybody else. Morgana had certainly badly underestimated Josephine’s abilities in their aerial bitch fight. Maybe the sweat did work on her. Certainly she’d had enough of the treated water splashed and rubbed onto her body to give it every chance.

As for Caelia and Chelinde, just having their hands in the bucket seemed to be affecting them like piglets suckling on a barrel of mead. They were giggling at each now across Morgana’s body and blatantly shaking their plumpers for the audience. The witch began twisting her legs and hips from side to side as the sisters scrubbed at her tits, her mouth open as she began moaning. Morgana’s long fingers rose up to stroke the girl’s arms as though encouraging them to hurt her more … and Hal’s own prick reared up like a stallion’s in chase of a mare. He held the bundled wet cloak in front of him and rubbed it against his straining flesh as he decided what to do.

“Morgana, stand up. Chelinde, Caelia, hold the cloak around her.”

The witch put her hands down beside her and sat up, got on her knees and stood, the sisters keeping the cloak up around the top of her swaying breasts, the damp fabric displaying the perfect contours of the unsupported flesh and the hard nipples, each one so big that his thumb and forefinger would scarcely encircle it. Her legs up and even beyond her knees were bare, showing off smooth thighs made in heaven for a man to slide his hand between and upwards.

“Go to the drinking trough. Step into it. Then take off the cloak and the girls will soap you. Everywhere.”

She obeyed, still walking with infinite pride, head and shoulders above her escorts, the girls behind her holding onto the cloak as if they were train bearers, their eyes darting from one male spectator to another. But always returning to Hal — and the King. His Majesty was breathing even more heavily than usual and he seemed fascinated by the display being unfolded in front of him.

There was scarcely a ripple in the water as Morgana entered it gracefully. Looking directly at Hal, she shrugged the cloak off her shoulders and let the maidens catch it. Without a stitch on, she stood before them with one hand flat by the side of her leg, the other one between her legs. And what might have been thought a protection of modesty took on a different meaning when the spectators saw that the fingers pressed over her patch of dark red hair were gently moving as she felt herself. She giggled at the open mouthed astonishment of the soldiers, lifted up both hands and held up her breasts for the spectator’s eyes. Certainly Hal’s felt as if they were popping out of his head as he watched her proudly displaying a body of perfect wantonness. Then Caelia and Chelinde began working their hands over Morgana, leaving trails of suds and pure white skin behind them in spreading patches.

Hal stumbled forward, stepped into the other end of the trough facing the witch and threw away his cloak, letting her see his rampant prick. Morgana smiled at him: “Shall the girls wash you now, Master?”

“One of them,” he grunted.

He was grunting because Morgana’s hand had reached forward and gently tweaked the tip of his cock. This was unbelievable, to have a woman like this in thrall of him, doing his every bidding. Then she moved back, holding her hands up behind her head for him to better see her body as Caelia continued soaping it and Chelinde rubbed her hands over Hal, soaping him quickly but thoroughly, arms, chest, back, legs and then rubbing her slippery palm up and down his shaft. Caelia laughed and applied her hands just as thoroughly to Morgana’s pure white tits and the red flowers tipping them.

There was a vicious sounding twang and zip from nearby, and Hal glanced around to see that one of the soldiers had accidentally discharged his cross bow in his excitement, the bolt sticking out of the straw littered dirt floor two paces away. But nobody seemed to care, not the King, not even the Corporal. Nobody said or did anything as Morgana knelt down in the trough and put her hand with Chelinde’s on the boy’s throbbing tool. Together the two woman stroked it, and then Caelia joined them, her fingers tickling his balls. Hal called out in pleasure, his arms around each sister’s shoulders and then something very large and fat plopped into the water between his legs and the kneeling witch. The toad sank out of sight, down below the foam covered water and Hal’s toes curled up in readiness for a savage bite or sting.

It never came. What did come was a string of bubbles breaking between Morgana’s opened thighs and her response, a wild cry with her eyes rolled back in apparent pain. Hal wondered why the toad was attacking its mistress. And then he realized what was really happening as Morgana bent forward, pushed Chelinde’s hand aside and took him deeply into her mouth in one swift movement. There was a gasp and a stir around the barn as everybody saw four finger’s length of the boy’s cock disappear between the witch’s scarlet lips and her cheeks contract with the effort of sucking off her master. And all saw how her body was quivering and jerking as though she was being eaten from below.

It was the King who responded first. He bellowed, unbuckled his sword belt, threw it aside and swayed forward like a bear untimely woken from winter sleep. He seized Chelinde first, from behind, kneading her plump round breasts in his huge fingers, squashing them up with only the stiff tips standing proud of the press. Caelia instantly bent forward to suck on her sister’s nipples, sending Chelinde squirming and pressing her bare bottom against the King’s crutch. He roared again, pushed her away and began tearing at the lacing in the front of his breeches The girls rushed back to him, wild eyed and their fingernails tearing at the cords with the same urgency. Out from behind their restraints came a cock that seemed as thick as Hal’s wrist and almost as long as one of Corporal Clint’s magnum sized bolts. Caelia still went down on her knees without hesitation to suckle on it as well as she could, her lips stretched out like an adder’s swallowing a rat. Yet the King was watching the trough, not the girl at his feet.

“Fetch the witch out, boy, fetch her out! I’m going to give her a royal fucking!”

It would have meant death to argue with the monarch at any time. Right then was certainly not a good time to even think about hesitating. Even when Hal was getting ready to empty himself over Morgana’s tongue: “Out, witch, out. The King wants you.”

The King did indeed. He was already lying on his back and holding his cock steady for one hand as Chelinde and Caelia licked the shiny red length like cows at a salt lick. As Morgana stood up he beckoned her to come forward. She glanced at Hal, he nodded and she obeyed, trickles of water and foam running down her beautifully proportioned legs before she stood astride King Argud and squatted down, her arms behind her back on either side of his legs to take her weight as Caelia and Chelinde rubbed the head of the King’s donkey dick against her cunt. Then she squealed and dropped down on top of it as if it might otherwise escape.

Her hips jerked up and down and she leaned forward on her arms again, with a girl on each side of her, and each girl holding onto one of Morgana’s large tits, keeping the bags of flesh steady for the King to bite on. Morgana screeched again but Hal cared nothing for that in his need to finish what he’d begun with her. He stepped close to the writhing bodies, grabbed a tuft of Morgana’s red hair and thrust his lance into her mouth again. She sucked on as eagerly as before but Hal hardly noticed. He was staring wide eyed at the trough as the water in it splashed over the wooden sides and something moved inside it, something standing up where the toad had been,

This was no toad though, nor was it a cat. It was something akin to a child, about as high as a grown man’s waist, brown skinned, a bald head, large ears, green hued eyes which glittered like iced moss in sunlight, a squashed nose and lips which seemed more horn than flesh. The small though wide shouldered figure leapt over the side of the trough, landed as neatly as a cat and sprang forward.

One thing about the goblin which was definitely a prominent feature was the cock and balls it displayed, a cock ready for action and much larger than a normal one, for all the goblin’s smaller size. It was more like a cock with a body attached than a body with a cock attached. But whatever the arrangement the body moved swiftly, the cock bobbing up and down as short but incredibly muscled legs carried it forward to where it wanted to be. Which was behind Morgana, the glittering eyes staring at her jerking buttocks as the goblin rubbed some wet soap around his massive prick. He slapped her ass lightly with both palms as if to let her know she was there, guided his overlarge shaft between Morgana’s quivering crescents and then forced it deeply between them like a battering ram hammering at a castle gate. Air spurted around Hal’s wet shaft as Morgana screamed out in passion and King Argud roared in satisfaction. He so busy sucking and chewing on Morgana’s tits that Hal wondered if the Monarch had noticed that he was sharing his feast with uninvited guests.

Then the boy snorted with his own uncontrollable pleasure as he spurted into Morgana’s mouth, setting her off spluttering and gagging as droplets of white fluid rolled down her chin. Chelinde put her arm across the top of Morgana’s neck and began licking some of the liquid up like a kitten cleaning a platter of milk, a licking which ended with a passionate kiss between the two females. Then Caelia put a hand up to Hal’s shrunken prick and began lapping at it with her tongue as if to clean it thoroughly. All three of them seemed out of their minds with lust and as soon as Morgana and Chelinde saw what Caelia was doing for Hal they joined in enthusiastically. The boy turned one way and another to let each of them have fair access to him.

It was, he thought, something which ought to make an entry in the Mead Brewer’s Book of Records. One King, one goblin and one shitbucket emptier all fucking one witch at the same time, with a couple of hand maidens keeping things going. Not something you saw very often. The soldiers certainly didn’t want to miss any second of the spectacle. A group of them were standing within arm’s length of Hal, eyes and cocks bulging at what was going on. Hal grabbed both of the sisters by the hair, lifted them and pushed them towards Corporal Clint and his comrades.

“Go on, boys, help yourselves.”

It wasn’t really what he wanted to do but he needed a distraction to keep those crossbows off their aim. And it worked. Bows and swords and belts fell to the ground as the soldiers grabbed the girls and threw them on their backs on top of the straw pile, bedding them down in long term fucking positions. The rest of the guard saw what was happening and rushed to join the queue. The only thing which distracted them at all was a sound like a giant owl hooting, a sound coming from the goblin. Within seconds the sound was mixed with another yell of triumph from the King and long a drawn out yelp from Morgana. The trio of bodies collapsed in a tangle, the goblin and the King to lie undisturbed, but not Morgana. Clint O’The Eastwood grabbed her arm, lifted her up and then dropped her on the straw pile next to two hairy backsides jerking up and down on top of Chelinde and Caelia. Very quickly the Corporal’s arse was on public display as well as he fucked Morgana with all the expertise of a seasoned campaigner and military trained rapist. The accumulated lust in the air could have been set off by a candle flame and nobody even noticed Josephine slithering back into the barn. The men were either fucked, fucking or anticipating a fuck, and the females — well, the females were otherwise occupied. Dragon sweated out of their minds and getting drilled from all directions

So nobody saw the dragon enter: nobody who cared, anyway. And certainly nobody noticed Hal’s nod towards the drinking trough, nor his wink to Josephine. The dragon bowed her head, put her snout into the water and snorted — not once, not twice, not three, but four times. Hal grabbed a discarded sword, reversed it with his hands holding tightly to the scabbard, then ran around and up to the top of the straw pile. The corporal was gasping in satisfaction as he pumped his load into Morgana’s cunt. He gasped even more loudly as Hal hit him behind the ear with the sword handle. Then Hal grabbed at the witch’s hands to pull her out from underneath Clint O’The East Wood’s stunned body.

“Come with me — now.”

“What?”

“Come with me — I order you.”

One of the waiting soldiers stepped forward and raised his fist to punch Hal’s face. There was a kind of thumping sound, water from the trough flew up and a bank of steam twice Hal’s height rolled outwards as all the dragon spit in the trough mingled with the liquid and turned into hot vapor. Visibility within the barn became a few paces, then scarcely one or two. Hal began hauling the witch in the direction he knew the door was. He knew because he’d noted the draught beforehand and simply followed it. Or at least he would have if Morgana didn’t seem to be taking so long to get up to speed.

“Move, you bitch!”

“Oh, Master, it’s such fun … “

“You stupid fucking woman, it’s the dragon sweat in the water that’s got us so excited. It’s magic, we’re spell bound, and we’ll both be dead if we don’t escape from the King. Run!”

Morgana’s normal iron will seemed to emerge again as she began to understand what had happened to her. Hand in hand they ran out through the doorway, then stopped, panting. Hal had never known a day like it for exercise. And before he could make another move he was astonished to see the goblin come running out the steam filled door as well, the tip of his slack knob halfway to his knees and pulling Caelia alongside him by a long strand of her hair. But Hal’s surprise at that was nothing compared to seeing Chelinde also emerging, squealing and jumping and being forced along by a series of hefty swipes on her bottom by Morgana’s broomstick. Seeing the brush swinging through the air that way without a hand on it was even stranger than watching it just floating along. But this was no time for standing around and being curious.

“Get into the castle, quick.” Hal urged Morgana. “Josephine is coming with us. If we can get the drawbridge raised now we’ll be inside and the King and most of his soldiers will be outside. Then we’ll have a chance to parley.”

Morgana shook her head: “Better to tell the dragon to burn down the barn and have done with them all now.”

“No! If they die I’m a Duke no longer. There’d be no witnesses. The King must sign my letters patent and proclaim them. Seize the castle and we can negotiate with him.”

She nodded, still panting: “That warlock. He’s not here. He could stop you.”

Hal knew she was right. And if Gaunt Gregory wasn’t here he had a bloody good idea of where he would be.

“Josephine, go to the castle. Put a fireball through an arrow slit in the top of the tower, Burn Gaunt Gregory’s chamber right out.”

“No …No!” Morgana shook her head. “My magical supplies are destroyed or lost. I need his. I must go now, take him by surprise. My broom will almost support my weight, even though it’s damaged. Let me ride it and hold onto one of the dragon’s claws. She can lift me to the top of the tower and leave me there to deal with Gregory. Then the dragon can help you in the courtyard to get the drawbridge lifted up.”

“So be it. Josephine, take Morgana up to the chamber’s lookout platform.”

Some of the dragon sweat tainted steam was drifting the dragon’s barn: half a dozen warriors were now visible inside, each with his breeches around his knees and frantically jerking themselves off.

“Huh”, Morgana snorted as she settled onto the broomstick. “I always said that the military were a load of wankers.”

Then a giant figure came running out of the steam with a raised sword that glittered along its length in the afternoon sun. The King was as mad as hell, the dragon was spiraling upwards towing the unclad witch on her broomstick and a naked boy and two naked girls ran for their lives towards the castle with an equally naked goblin bounding along behind them.

Will Spearshaker was still sitting by the moat, stinking, scorched and sour at life as he watched what was occurring, but not with any great interest. You couldn’t weave a good story out of happenings which seemed to make no sense at all. Which was about Hal’s thinking as well, because now the moment had passed he had no idea at all why he’d hit Clint O’The East Wood and provoked the King’s anger. But he had an idea of somebody who might have put a spell on him.