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Free Erotica Series: "Object Confessions: Lover Of Dragons" written by Lelith L with Max D

Object Confessions:
Lover Of Dragons

"Object Confessions: Lover Of Dragons" written by Lelith L with Max D

Her sexual fantasies lead her to intense dragon pleasures. She seeks out the magnificence of their immense need to satisfy her tender heat. [Includes: Female Masturbation, Vaginal Penetration, Dildo Play, Dragon, Fingering & Fisting, FF, Stretching, Mythical Creatures]

Enjoy "Object Confessions: Lover Of Dragons" written by Lelith L with Max D for free! Read online, download the PDF, or download eReader formats on Smashwords right now!

Featured Erotica from Very Dirty Stories #171

"Object Confessions: Lover Of Dragons" written by Lelith L with Max D

I dressed as Daenerys Targaryen for my friend's fancy dress party, and we shared a good laugh at all the similarities. I've been known to be a little... uh, fiery... to say the least. I was born during the biggest storm that my country has experienced on record, in transit between home and nowhere, and I imagine the passionate aggression of nature itself flowed into me as soon as I left the womb. There are subtle and not so subtle signs of how I'm different. Things that hint at my nature and which my friends often take for granted once they know me. For example, I don't feel heat normally. I always run hot, but comfortably sit in bathwater nobody else can even put their hand in, happily steaming myself with a grin, and wondering why they're waiting so long to join me. My passions run deep and no one can tell if I'm a raging psychopath or a benevolent force for goodness and love. I'm almost definitely both in my own little way. 'Mother of Dragons,' though... I'm not sure about that. I know that Targaryen incest is totally part of that universe's canon - it's how she was written - but that'd be a bit much for me. My feelings towards dragons are distinctly un-maternal, after all.

Let me come at this a different way.

There is a path that leads to these moments. As unassuming as it may sound, I've always been a bit outspoken and brash. When I was in college, I was renowned for being the provocateur of our group. Inexperienced but quirky, we were fond of long talks about alternative sexuality, fetishes, and the sort of pornography that more than one of us have, over the years since then, ended up turning into some sort of trade. At the time though, my heated pleasures with my two partners was the sum total of our group's practical experience. Despite that, I'm pretty sure that it wasn't me who alerted our table of heavily-eyelinered misfits to the existence of Bad Dragon. Such a wonderful boutique of bountiful and perverse beauties. In hindsight, I'm also pleased with our little group's tolerance. The consensus response was a mixture of curiosity and confused awe. There was no 'ewwww,' no name slinging, no derision of furries – though I'm not sure they were really a 'thing' back then – and although nobody outright said "I want one," we all made approving noises about the bright colours, the designs, and the enticing details that went into the selection of silicone-simulated flesh fantasies.

...Okay. I said, "I want one," and, before I was even asked which one, I quickly realised that I'd actually never be able to choose only one. Showcased with each magnificently crafted masterpiece were all these wonderful stories including beautiful pictures and descriptions of who and what these gleaming, studded cocks belonged to... and I could never decide on just one because I'd endlessly witter over all them. Sadly, with the customs charges, the overseas shipping, and the cost of each glorious specimen of dragon virility, I wouldn't ever be able to have one of my own. It would eat up all of my expendable income just to have Bad Dragon ship and deliver an empty box, so I never anticipated needing to make a selection. I appreciated the artwork, and I didn't want those special cocks to be cheaper; I just knew that I'd have to put my lust for something so enticing on the backburner.

The weird thing is: I wasn't even sure why I wanted them at the time. Whilst I'd pretty much figured out my emotional sexuality, I was yet to actually figure my body out all that well. I knew that I wasn't hugely interested in penetration, and I was certainly not interested in huge penetration. I suppose I figured that I'd touch and admire, rub and fondle, and maybe even use the Bad Dragon toys if I felt moved to... I'm certain that I didn't truly comprehend the large sizes and hefty weights of the cocks that we were talking about. Even when I was holding them in my hand for the first time while sitting across from him on a ferris wheel, I was still wrapping my brain around how big and heavy my Bad Dragon toys were, but that's an adjustment for another story. What I did already have was a tremendous sense that I was rather more motivated in my interest than my friends' artistic admiration. This was not a momentary sex toy crush that I was going forget about, though it also wasn't one that was going to be fulfilled for the best part of a decade. I didn't know why I was drawn to those lovely dildos, but they were always lingering in my fantasies. After all that time, here I sit - with my turquoise-gold Spritz nestled in the warm folds of my pussy. Not just a fantasy any more, and the tangible reality comes with unexpected pleasures. My muscles subtly fluttering against the soft silicone shaft hint at something only I know for certain because I can feel the truth of it. The narrow tip and gentle curve of my Spritz fits into my pussy and every breath I take flows over the slightly ridged shaft with comfortable caresses reserved for something tailor-made for my body. I know that my dragons were worth the wait. Once captured within my lusty embrace, my dragons fit me perfectly because they were meant to be. They will continue to be worth the wait and the work to accommodate bigger and fiercer beasts, too.

If you're like my old friends, and you don't understand, then here's the thing about my fantasies. It took me quite a while to figure out the sexual appeal of the first Bad Dragon cocks that I saw on their web site. For me, it's the context that matters the most. So many women have rape fantasies, and I'm not quite there, but I understand: it's all about having the power taken out of your hands. I understand the thrill in someone being so overcome by their lust for you that they can't control themselves. I can picture the hunger in their eyes when they have to have you right then and there. I totally get the appeal of being helpless and forced to submit to someone bigger when that person can just hold you down and do whatever they want to you. And absolutely, I can see how I'd cum so easily, so hard and so much, if someone just took me, shut me up, and forced me to submit to their harsh physicality without being able to squirm away or stop them when it gets too intense... because squirming and trying to escape is what I do. I stop short of the pleasure I deserve, and I need that control taken away from me to be pushed past my limits. But...

But, even as a fleeting fantasy, I can't reconcile myself with the idea of someone violating my consent. It's an instant turn off. I need to know that there's a mutual respect and understanding. I need to be heard when dealing with men and women as sexual partners. The obvious workaround to reconcile consent with the need to be overwhelmed led to exploring animals as dominating partners. That crossed a line for me, too, and being such an animal-lover in the far more conservative sense... I couldn't abide the idea that someone might think I'd really use an animal for my pleasure. I was caught between the uninhibited and unthinking passions of beasts and the deliberate Machiavellian dominance of men and women - and I couldn't embrace either without strong reservations. There was a single, improbable path for my fantasies to take. It was the one logical alternative that I could feverishly pursue without any inhibitions. One gleaming, shiny, scaly, and huge dream that encouraged my desire.

Sometimes it borders on shamanic journey... whilst I run my hands over my tattooed body, my spirit self wanders its home landscape. The vivid saturated colours drip bright blues and greens as I feel the grass between my toes and seek a comfortable glen where I can rest on my back, sun and shade caressing my bare skin, and listen to the birds or perhaps a nearby brook. The ground beneath my feet hardens, and I am drawn along a path half hidden beneath crumpled reeds and moist grass. My body tightens, unconsciously putting the pieces together, but my mind is too slow to anticipate what is coming. On those travels, I stub my toe in a hardening footprint. I'm daydreaming, enjoying the warmth air, and it's too late when I realize that the fresh sweet scent of the meadows comes from the crushed foliage ground into the earth. Only a powerful and heavy tail dragging over the meadows to the edge of the trees could leave the furrows I now recognize in the rolling uneven pitch of the broad field. I have wandered into the path of a mighty creature of my own imagining, and as soon as its heavy head turns to focus on me, I immediately know I have become its prey. Nostrils flaring, its eyes gleam, and the air sings with the sound of the thrashing motion of its tail. I'm irrationally staring at the fanning arc of flattened long grass, all too aware that its powerful haunches are gathering for the pounce, and almost deliberately avoiding its eyes as it seems to smile with the joy of the imminent kill. Roaring with a mighty bellow, the immense creature puffed out its chest and reared to its full height - all ten feet or so - but I can see very clearly that this beast is not hungry. The incredible marbled and plated cock glimmers with pride in the bright sunlight, straining and leaking milk-white passion from its rounded tip. I wonder how long it has been aching to find a mate. I wonder if I can run, if there's any way even the incorporeal version of my asthmatic form could hope to scramble away from a creature so clearly faster, more agile, and much more driven. Of course, as soon as I turn to flee, I stumble over a root or some such conveniently placed plot device and find myself prone, leapt upon by my eager pursuer, and helpless to resist as it triumphantly roars and plunges that rigid shaft into the first hole its wet tip finds.

In the real world, my trauma-tightened defences give the silicone version more of a run for its money. Each thrust has to push aside my resistance. Each of my Bad Dragon lovers has initially been a challenge, but I'm adapting. There was a time when I regularly struggled with penetration using just my two slim fingers. Now, I savour the moment as I wriggle and squirm, pressing my hot, pulsing pussy down to the knot on my gorgeous, ice blue Nova Breeder, and my achievement is so very encouraging. Each ridge of the articulated shaft had to slowly strain the tender kiss of my intimate lips. The angled tip presses deep while he graciously yields just enough to follow the natural curve of my pussy. The final bulge, his knot, is nearly three inches in diameter, and my body rewards me by blissful aching while clenching in its confusion as it simultaneously fights and welcomes the stretch. The copy editor has it perfectly correct. "Nova's like a fine, aged wine... it starts out smooth, and the next thing you know you're flat on your back, trapped in a cloud of bliss."

Other times, my fantasy self goes searching to lure such a magnificent creature in heat, as if I'm not in fact that hormone-addled creature of lusty desire myself. I feel the desperate tensing between my thighs as I go padding barefoot across arid scrubland. I can taste the dry stillness in the air, and I have to wet my lips with my tongue as I near the rocky outcrops where he prefers to nap in the shade. I go further, penetrating his private domain, and seek the cave where I know he'll be, or, if he isn't, he'll be returning to soon. I get myself as comfortable as I can be bothered to; there's no need for inhibition or I feel no shame for exposing my sexual need. Kneeling in the dust, leaning forward to brace myself on one forearm whilst I yank my panties down, my eyes have darkened and the colours around me are both bright and shadowy. My fingers spread my wetness around and over my labia in readiness for him. My enticement is so direct that only my own slippery juices will do. When he stalks in, he's overwhelmed by the scent of my eagerness. The blood rushes to my head as his hindbrain engages before anything else, and I know that his eminence within his own domain guarantees that it won't even occur to his bestial instincts to resist. I never even hear him pause because as soon as he sees me spread out, tipped forward onto the hard floor of his lair, his entire focus is rushing forward to satisfy his urge to mate. His big eyes are locked onto the warm, wet pussy that's waiting so impatiently for him, and he lunges into my wetness with a ferocious thrust that leaves me shuddering as I slide forward.

It doesn't matter whether I am ready or not. It makes no difference if I struggle from the stretching or buck against his firm cock. In the book version, I would be the Mistress of the Mythical Beasts, able to calm the mightiest of dragons and griffins with a tender caress. Within my fantasy island, I am the Mistress of Mythical Passions, literally filled with my fantastical creatures' lusty urges, eagerly pursuing pleasure that does not stop until they have had their fill, and I am happily aware of what I am enjoying.

You see, either way, I'm powerless. There's no stopping because I've decided that I've had enough or changed my mind mid-encounter. I simply have to take what he gives, to focus on keeping myself relaxed and riding out his frenzied thrusts, and do so even when I am way past the end of my comfort zone. I am rendered breathless while my temperature is soaring and blood sings in my veins. I can only breathe in short gasps. It seems like there is no room left in my body for air; everything is filled by the heaving, unnaturally smooth cock inside me. Each stroke firmly emphasizes his dominance: the reptilian shaft is cool even when my skin is burning, and it continues desperately flexing within me to seek its release. I cannot stop it. I can't push it out or fight against its forced ingress, and the creature, whether it's Nox or Flint or Spritz or whoever that day, pays no attention to my mumbled protests.

On my bed, in my nice, cool room, I've moved to kneel over my Bad Dragon toy, and it's my weight bearing down on the firm silicone shaft that forces its girth into my pussy. Lube mixed with my own slickness still isn't enough to stop the pinching as my softest skin stretches to its limits, but the agony is overwhelmed by something else: a desperate, insistent drive that throbs within my veins and wheezes with each gasped breath. In the same moment, I am the dragon that wants its cock in me so badly, and I also cannot be stopped despite my own urges to escape. The orgasm that roars through me as my body gives way and welcomes just that extra few millimetres of tonight's dragon is the roughest and most blistering that I can remember. As I rub gently at my clit, coaxing the last few muscle contractions which flutter around the textured shaft and help to ease the monster out of my pussy, my forceful lover shudders to a warm, blissful silence.

I never used to care much for penetration. My pleasure came from petting and caressing, and, historically, even fingering my pussy could be uncomfortable and painful. I was satisfied, or so I thought. I know better now. Once I found what I wanted to be fucked with, I couldn't stop. I crave the sensations and the trembling bliss afterward, even when I'm just stroking myself and dreaming myself to a quick orgasm before sleep. I linger in the memories of firm thrusts, and my body tenses and flexes in anticipation. I ache from the inside out with a hollow feeling that begs me to raise myself from my near-sleep, to drag out the bag from beneath my bed in which my dragons are sleeping, and to put one to task on my waiting pussy.

The bags are getting bigger. My dragons are growing larger, and the urges are growing stronger all of the time. The collection of beasts awaiting my hungry dreams is expanding, and sometimes I just lay amongst them, caressing their bumps and veins and scales, while longing for the day when even the largest can fully sheathe himself in my willing body. My collection spans a spectrum of bright colours now, numbers a dragon for almost each one of the website's design, and includes a broad range of sizes. The larger ones are still nothing but a pipe dream: something to caress and admire and daydream about whilst I work my smaller toys into the tightness of my pussy's grip. The man who made this possible, who unwittingly taunted me with Bad Dragon delights without even knowing, likes to tempt me with the bigger sized cocks in the inspiring designs that I really can't resist. He knows full well that however much I test his patience, however hard it might be for me to overcome my well-trained muscles and the impossible mania of our unpredictable lives, one day it will be worth the wait.

That day might be sooner than he thinks. He's not here to see, though I rarely get the opportunity to really benefit from a second set of hands so it takes determination to enjoy what I crave. He'd be impressed with one simple fact: it's not just me enjoying these pleasures. Whilst I can't yet face up to pushing my fourth finger into my pussy as I wriggle and twist and probe for all the warmest tingly spots inside my body, I slide all four to the knuckles within my girlfriend with ease. I'd mostly focused on the surface of her body in the past, mimicking the pleasure that I knew best, but now the urge to see her stretched and full is all-consuming and even desperate when I'm between her thighs. Her softer form welcomes the breadth of my hand easily, and I tuck my thumb against my palm, mindful of my stubbed, flat nails, and press my entire hand into her body for the first time. Her pussy suckles at me gratefully; her hips lift unconsciously from the hotel bed; the noises I love so much spill from her lips so readily. I hunger to see her forcing herself up and down on a strap-on that I'd previously dismissed as uncomfortably wide. I'm eager to witness the focus fading from her eyes as she loses control and bounces relentlessly on the rubber phallus anchored to the harness wrapped around my hips. I want to feel the force of her passion wet my pelvis as if I were really able to fuck her.

When my hand's fully inside my girlfriend, she orgasms so beautifully that I look to find a puddle soaking the duvet. It's not there yet. Her moans encourage me to press deeper, to test her limits, and my hand is embraced within her heated pussy's arousal as her tender lips encircle my wrist. We're not there yet. I look at her and inspiration strikes as I tease my girlfriend with even more and taunt her with my own progress. I'm not there yet, but every time I feel one of my dragons slide home, plunging in just a little further and making a place for itself within my trembling pussy, I know it will be sooner than we think.

And so, you have the beginning of my journey. This is my epiphany, and the beginning of what could turn out to be a very long story, but he's just told me not to worry about length.

He's right. I tend to find it's the girth that makes all the difference.

Want her? She has so much to share along with the rest of the Ladies of Object Confessions!

Cherish Desire Ladies: Object Confessions

The Ladies of Object Confessions
Do you Sext and Tell?

Pleasure and perversion take on many forms. Sometimes the dirty confessions of special needs and desires shouldn't be associated with a specific name. The Ladies of Object Confessions open up and share their guilty pleasures - breaking all the rules and spelling out what really gets them off. When it comes to sex there may not be anything new under the sun, but there's still plenty of shocking dirty secrets. And when it comes to orgasms, women know a lot more than they are admitting in public!

Plunge into another sexy story!

"Object Confessions 59: Eclipsed Moon"

The mysteries of the moon embrace pale lunacy and icy fury. Her destruction of his compassion is what has made her into a Reaper within his army. [Includes: Female Masturbation, Dildo Play, Object Insertion (Totem), Implied MF, Ritual, Implied Occult]

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Need more? Read all the stories in our Featured Titles!

Very Dirty Stories #171

"Object Confessions: Lover of Dragons" written by Lelith with Max

Her sexual fantasies lead her to intense dragon pleasures. She seeks out the magnificence of their immense need to satisfy her tender heat. [Includes: Female Masturbation, Vaginal Penetration, Dildo Play, Dragon, Fingering & Fisting, FF, Stretching, Mythical Creatures]

"Demands Of A Master (A Miez & Priya Story)"

Her immediate willingness to embrace his demands for big dildo play are tempered by her urge to go back to normal. Her Master puts Dominatrix Miez in a position to make sure his precious Priya lives up to her promises. [Includes: MF, D/s, Vaginal & Implied Anal & Implied Oral Sex, Dildo Play & Wearing, Vaginal & Anal & Implied Oral Penetration, Fingering & Implied Fisting, Phone Sex, FF, Implied Strap-on Sex, Cross-dressing, Femdom]

"She Comes First 3: Fishnets And Whips"

His power, his strength, and his self-control are all lies. The pain of her whip and the need to feel her fishnets caress his cheek are the only things that are real. [Includes: FM, Femdom, D/s, Submissive Male, Punishment Play, Bondage & Restraints]

Buy on Amazon: US | Canada | UK | Australia | Deutschland | Italia | España | France | Nederland | México | Brasil | India | Japan

Buy on Kobo: US | Canada | UK | Australia | New Zealand | EU | Hong Kong | Japan

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