Welcome D. Wilder to Masturbation Monday! It's funny how something like a quick back and forth on Twitter could lead to a two part guest post for Masturbation Monday! I refuse to give anything away, but I will say this...DRAGONS!
Because this piece is so long, this will be posted in two parts. If you enjoy this, make sure to check out his other blogs (links at bottom) or follow him on Twitter!
Melira Brightcloud crouched behind the broad trunk of an oak tree wrapped in a swirl of heart-shaped ivy leaves. A warm breeze heavy with the earthy aroma of the summertime forest rustled the leaves around her. She ran her fingers across the trunk of the tree. A section of rough bark was scraped smooth by the passing of something heavy and armored. Melira smiled. At long last, she was closing in on her quarry.
Despite the slow pace of her day-long pursuit, every moment was nerve-racking. The silence that settled over the old forest was eerie, as though even the birds sensed the tension. Make a mistake today, and she’d be dead before she could draw her sword. Melira was an accomplished hunter but she’d never hunted a dragon.
Something rustled in the distance, and Melira froze. She held her breath, everything still but her pounding heart. A single bead of perspiration ran down her forehead and across her nose. She remained that way until she spotted a large hawk winging from one tree to another. Melira slowly let her breath out, gazing around at the primal forest that surrounded her. It was lush enough to shelter a dragon. Surely it could also hide her as she approached the beast.
Melira chose her steps carefully as she slunk toward another tree, this an elm with leaves like serrated emerald teardrops. Towering oaks and elms dominated the old forest, but clusters of blue-green pine tinged the air with their fresh scent. Ferns and brambles roamed the earth. Every step Melira took was silent. She chose mossy spots and soft earth, picked her way around thorny vines and avoided sticks and dry leaves. She’d hunted enough beasts over her life to know how to conceal herself from her quarry.
Not that she stalked the monster for sport. Melira was no cold-hearted slayer who sought to kill the creature simply for being a dragon. However, dragons were dangerous when they drew near the lands of men. They were violent beasts with equally violent tempers. The tales claimed dragons wreaked havoc upon the armies of men trying to bring civility to barbaric lands. Regardless of rumor, this beast had already proven itself a threat. It had damaged property, stolen livestock, and a sizable bounty now lay upon its head.
Melira planned to claim that bounty for herself. Granted, as one of the Forest Wardens, keeping danger away was supposed to be her job. If some other idiot went and got himself killed, she’d probably get both the blame and the task of cleaning up the mess. Better to go eliminate the beast herself. That way she could claim the credit on behalf of the Forest Wardens while keeping the entire reward.
The Forest Wardens were a small, loosely knit group who styled themselves as local protectors. In truth, they were nomadic mercenaries who roamed the land known as the Forest of Ghosts. Melira herself spent a good deal of time traveling from village to village, doing good deeds, and then cheerfully requesting payment for them. The villagers usually preferred to pay up rather than risk having to send their own people deep into the Forest.
The Forest of Ghosts was a verdant wilderness full of ancient growth. The origins of its name were long lost to history and superstition, but as far as Melira knew it never actually harbored any unnatural spirits. But it was vast, wild and filled with beasts of more than one nature. Over the years it had sheltered more than a few monsters wearing the skin of men. It lay on the borders of several old kingdoms yet was beholden to no one. Even as strife and wars for conquest raged across nearby lands, the Forest of Ghosts was too wild and too isolated for anyone to bother with.
A nearby war just meant more traveling soldiers who brought coin and tales of nightmarish beasts in conquered lands. That was fine with Melira. Extra coin and frightful stories meant higher bounties. In fact, if Melira could just pull off this dragon-slaying business she’d be set for quite some time.
That was a big ‘if’. Hell, Melira hadn’t even worn a helmet. When the other Wardens called her reckless, Melira just smiled. She’d always considered recklessness to be one of her finest attributes. Besides, no amount of padding would stop a dragon’s blow from shattering her skull. The trick was in not being struck at all.
Thankfully, mobility was something Melira had plenty of. A youth spent climbing trees, roaming the forest and learning to hunt had shaped her into a lithe, wiry woman with a dangerous grace. As a warrior she preferred swift, precise strikes to brute force. Her black, studded-leather cuirass provided good protection without impairing her maneuverability.
Granted, heavier armor seemed like a better idea when Melira caught sight of black scales sliding through distant brush. Her heartbeat quickened, thudding against her chest like a frantic drumbeat accompanying a charging army. Sweat beaded upon skin darkened by a life spent outdoors. As slowly as she could, Melira tightened the hood of her hunting cloak to hide her striking red hair. The cloak’s green and brown patterns made excellent forest camouflage, but a dragon may not be so easily fooled.
Melira twined her fingers around the leather-wrapped hilt of her steel longsword. It was a gift from her father, weighted and balanced precisely for Melira. She’d worn it at her hip for years and kept it oiled and sharpened. If the sword wasn’t enough, she also carried an assortment of throwing knives. She had a compact crossbow strapped over her shoulder, and carried poisoned bolts. Around her waist hung pouches with powders designed to disable man and beast alike.While she’d never tested any of them out against a dragon, there was a first time for everything.
Perhaps she’d even be able to disable the beast and drag it back to town alive. A living dragon might earn even more coin. But how the hell would she haul the oversized lizard around? She’d just been planning to take the head and a few other choice bits. Even if she had rope or chain enough to bind the creature, she’d still need horses to drag the thing.
Melira forced herself to focus. She shifted herself behind the towering tree that sheltered her. The warm summer breeze rustled her hood, threatening to expose her long red curls. Staying downwind wouldn’t do her any good if the damn thing spotted her. As she adjusted her hood, Melira fixed eyes the color of the deep green forest upon the patches of black shifting in the distance. When she was convinced the dragon hadn’t spotted her, she slunk forward and she settled in behind an especially large oak tree. Using its moss-shrouded trunk to help conceal her, she studied her quarry as it nosed about a mossy, sun-dappled clearing.
The dragon was not as large as she’d expected, only the size of an average horse but with a long neck and tail. The beast was also much lither than she’d imagined. Plenty of muscles still rippled beneath its natural armor, but it lacked the bulk she anticipated. Scales of glossy ebony covered much of its body. The creature’s chest was heavily plated, as was the front of each limb.
Sky-blue patches marked the tip of its muzzle and tail. Indigo swirls edged its black wings. Each paw was marked with a different proportion of blue as if the dragon wished to adorn itself with cerulean socks yet could not find a matching set. Melira bit her lip to keep from laughing at the mental image of a dragon holding up blue socks and cursing the mismatched sizes.
The dragon glanced around, flicking its pointed ears. The scales of its face had a pebbly texture. Dark, ridged horns crowned its skull. A spiky frill ran between its horns and down the back of its neck, with smaller frills fanned out behind its ears. When the dragon gazed in her direction, Melira held her breath. Sunlight caught the dragon’s eyes and Melira found herself transfixed. They glowed gold like the sun itself, flecked here and there with glittering silver.
The dragon stared for a moment and just when she began to fear it had spotted her, it turned away. Melira exhaled. When the monster’s tail swished in the air, Melira scowled at the sight of the curved spines that adorned its tip. Those could easily punch through steel, let alone leather. While the dragon was facing away from her, Melira caught sight of something else she hadn’t expected to see.
‘It’ was actually a ‘he’.
The dragon’s testicles dangled under his tail like fat black eggs nestled between his hind legs. Melira smirked. At least the beast had one chink in his armor. Melira wouldn’t even hesitate to kick a dragon right in the nuts. The mental image of a crossed-eyed dragon made her grin.
Melira eased her sword a few inches from its scabbard, checking to ensure it was free. She wiped the grin from her face. All that was left now was to decide her plan of attack. Poison first, sword second. It seemed an easy decision until the beast turned and Melira saw ugly scars marking his body.
For the first time, Melira realized that the dragon had a crippled wing. One blue-edged wing was neatly folded against his form, sleek and streamlined. The other hung partly unfurled with a knot of pink scar tissue marring where it sprouted from his shoulder. It was a miracle if the beast could manage even ungainly flight.
The dragon walked a few paces across the clearing, and Melira noticed the beast had a limp. Another fat, circular blotch of pink tissue scarred his hind leg. A third scar stood out against the black scales of the dragon’s side and underbelly. Though the wounds looked old, the scars lingered and so did his limp. The creature must have suffered some traumatic injury in his youth.
Come to think of it, how old was this thing?
Melira studied him again, looking for clues. He was smaller than she’d expected, and there was something just slightly awkward about his limbs. Was it the limp, or was he still growing? Judging by the set of balls he carried he was certainly mature, but when did dragons actually stop growing?
Melira scowled. This dragon might be nothing more than a young adult who just left his parents’ lair to start his own life. Monster or not, Melira had little appetite to kill some wandering youth. Still, that left the question of what the hell she was going to do about it.
While Melira considered her options, the dragon eased himself down onto his belly. He sighed and stretched out against the grass. Taking care not to jar his old wounds or mash his wings, the beast rolled over and sprawled upon his back. He draped his wings against the earth, forelegs flopped against his chest. Damn beast was sunning his belly like an oversized cat.
Melira grit her teeth, dismayed by the idea of plunging her sword into the belly of a creature just reaching adulthood. Though some would kill a young dragon to prevent it from growing into a monster, Melira lacked that cold-bloodedness. Perhaps she could call out, and negotiate his retreat. Then again, startling the dragon might get her face burned off.
While Melira considered her options, the beast lifted a front paw and placed it down between his hind legs. Melira fought a snicker as the young dragon began to openly rub his own testicles. Apparently even the balls of dragons itched. Melira shook her head, muttering under her breath. Men.
After a moment it became clear that the dragon wasn’t simply scratching himself, he was rather actively playing with his balls. He rubbed his ebon sack under a blue paw and grasped at one of the egg-shaped glands held within. The dragon began to roll the orb between a few blue fingers. Melira saw the dragon’s plump testicle shifting around inside the coal-colored sac that contained it.
Melira gulped, her face flushing. She looked away. Surely he wouldn’t do that for long. Besides, he was a dragon. Dragons didn’t … did they? When Melira heard her quarry croon in pleasure, the answer was clear. Melira had the awkward realization that the young dragon she spent the day stalking was only looking for a quiet place to masturbate. Some mighty dragon slayer she was.
Had she been hunting the wrong beast? The bounty letters weren’t clear on the dragon’s coloration. Though any dragon’s head would reap the bounty, Melira had no interest in claiming the head of some horny youth. If she chased him away instead, she could still claim half the bounty. But how to drive him off without anyone ending up dead?
The dragon groaned again, and Melira couldn’t help but look. The beast had curled and now had both front paws between his hind legs. He cupped his black jewels in one paw, rolling the fat glands around in his paw pads. With his other paw, he dragged claws over the scales of his inner thighs. Melira swallowed. This display was a little more erotic than she’d expected.
The dragon murmured to himself, massaging his testicles in his paws. Melira could see the creature’s black sheath slung against his underbelly. Pointed red flesh was spilling from it, sliding out against the scales of the dragon’s stomach. Melira felt heat in her cheeks, turning her skin as red as the scarlet spear emerging from the monster’s nether regions. Maybe she should slip away while he was distracted. Try to speak to the scaly bastard another day without bloodshed.
Yet how many chances would she get to watch a dragon masturbate?
Oh, what the hell. If nothing else, it would make a damn fine tale to spin in the tavern. Melira settled against the ground to get comfortable. May as well enjoy the show. Perhaps she’d follow his example later. She could draw a hot bath back in the inn when she wasn’t worried about being spotted. She smirked, tilting her head as she watched the dragon indulge in his own body.
For a beast, he had agile paws. Given the adeptness with which the dragon manipulated his testicles, it was clear his front feet worked just as well as hands. The dragon’s tool seemed as quick and eager to slip free of its protective sheath and harden up as a young man’s was to rise and do the same. As his member became exposed, it rose and swelled until it was fully erect.
Even a young dragon’s erection seemed an impressive thing to Melira. Unlike a man’s, it had no real head. It tapered to a point with just a minor flare. Much of it was smooth, though Melira saw a few ridges encircled the base of the dragon’s shaft. The whole organ was a dark red color, a ruby weapon on full display.
Getting excited? Part two is coming (hehehe) soon!
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The Black Collar (blog)
The Volunteer Maiden (blog)
The Wilder Land (blog)