Dragonel

by Tiegan Clyne

  The Countess responded quickly. “Come in.”

  They entered a room with dark walls and plush black carpeting. The Countess stood in the middle of the room, her black hair falling down her back in a cascade of curls. She wore a scarlet gown, strapless and corseted, and long black gloves. She was closing the clasp on a diamond bracelet when they came in.

  “Christopher,” she greeted.

  She leaned toward her grandson, and he kissed her cheek. She straightened and looked at Sebastian with cool appraisal. Her eyes were cold.

  “I like how you’ve prettied him up,” she complimented. “The gold paint on his cock is a nice touch.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’ve instructed him?”

  “I have.”

  The Countess walked toward Sebastian and put one finger against his collar. “This can take your head off if I want it to, or it can deliver pain like you’ve never, ever known. If you dare to resist any orders, or if you cause me any displeasure at all, you will be punished. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Countess.”

  She touched his hair, then glanced at Christopher. “I think you missed your calling. You should have been a beautician, not a doctor.”

  He blushed, but it could as easily have been irritation as pleasure. “We all have hobbies.”

  “Indeed.” She walked all the way around Sebastian, then said, “Assume the position, dragonel.”

  He knelt and clasped his arms behind his back the way that Christopher had shown him. She raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m impressed. Prompt obedience, and appropriate positioning. You trained him well.”

  “Thank you, Countess.”

  “The others are already here. We are the last to arrive, as we should be. We will astound them with what we have.”

  She put her hand on Christopher’s neck and pulled him into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Sebastian was shocked. He might not have much of a memory left, but he knew that wasn’t how grandmothers were supposed to kiss their grandsons. Christopher returned the kiss in kind. When they parted, their white cheeks had a flush of pink, and there was naked desire in their eyes. Sebastian looked away, uncomfortable.

  “Now,” the Countess said, “let’s go show those idiots how wrong they are.”

  She strode forward, leading the way out of the room. Christopher turned to Sebastian. “Remember everything I told you, and remember that every experience is only a moment, and every moment is finite.”

  The veiled reference to suffering made Sebastian’s stomach quiver with anxiety.

  “One more thing. There will be other cryptomorphs here, and you will be tempted to stare at them. Don’t. Don’t even look at them. Keep your eyes on the carpet, about four inches in front of your knees. Don’t look anyone in the eye unless they order you to, especially not the Countess.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Christopher nodded in satisfaction, then turned to follow his grandmother, and Sebastian followed along a pace behind as he’d been told to do. He was afraid of what was coming.

  The Countess pushed open the middle set of double doors in the room with the scarlet carpet, and a cacophony of noise and smells assailed Sebastian’s senses all at once. He smelled food and wine, cologne and perfume, and the unmistakable scent of sex. An elegantly dressed horseshoe-shaped banquet table dominated the room, set with china and crystal that sparkled in the brilliant light. Well-dressed men and women sat at the table, attended by liveried servants, and in the center of the horseshoe was a platform that was occupied by kneeling cryptomorphs. The two seats of honor at the apex of the horseshoe were empty, waiting for the Countess and Christopher. All conversation ceased as soon as they appeared, and Sebastian could feel the weight of dozens of eyes. He flushed in shame, embarrassed by his nakedness and the way he’d been painted up for viewing.

  The Countess went to her seat, and Christopher led him to the platform. There was one spot left, and the veterinarian pointed at it with one leather glove. Sebastian knelt there, facing the diners in the revealing position he’d been taught. Christopher nodded and went to sit beside his grandmother.

  Sebastian kept his eyes downcast, but he could see the limbs of the cryptomorphs beside him. One of them had blue scales in a slender line down the outsides of her naked thighs, and the other had a ridge of thick black fur. The furred cryptomorph sniffed hard, catching Sebastian’s scents - his natural scent as well as the perfumes and pomades that overlaid it. One of the diners, a female, spoke.

  “Martin.”

  The sniffing stopped.

  “I must say, I’m shocked,” a woman said. Her voice carried a thick accent that Sebastian could not place. “I had heard that you had a golden dragonel, but I didn’t believe it could be true. Yet here he is.”

  “I never lie, Marchelline,” the Countess said mildly. There was steel behind that gently teasing tone.

  “I would never accuse you of such a thing,” the other woman responded quickly, wisely backtracking to eliminate any possible offense. “I’m simply shocked that for once, the rumors were true.”

  “All too true.”

  The last speaker was male, and the voice was familiar. Lord Ashmar. Sebastian’s jaw remembered him well.

  The Countess chuckled. “Lord Ashmar doesn’t share my enthusiasm for dragonels. He feels that we’re asking for trouble by breeding cryptomorphs based on the most powerful mythrics.”

  “Aren’t you?” another man asked. “No offense, but the last dragonel that I had retained the use of her breath weapon. I had to put her down because of how dangerous she became.”

  Christopher spoke, sounding bored. “There are ways to suppress such traits that are far less wasteful.”

  “Well,” the unidentified man sniffed, “my pets are mine to waste.”

  “Dragonels aren’t cheap,” a third man commented. “You must enjoy burning money to keep you warm on cold nights.”

  “I have my fun before I put them down, I assure you.” Sebastian’s skin crawled, and he knew that he was being stared at. “Perhaps I can have a little fun with this new dragonel while we’re here.”

  “It’s entirely possible,” the Countess allowed. “There is one requirement for anyone who chooses to play with my toy.”

  The second man asked a little too eagerly. “What is that?”

  “If you make him cum, you have to catch it before it’s lost, or you have to pay me up front for the loss in income.”

  Sebastian blushed, mortified, and the people at the table laughed.

  Marchelline asked, “What price have you set?”

  The Countess’s voice was cool as she answered, “Sixty thousand per ejaculation.”

  Some of the partygoers gasped, and one man burst into laughter. “Sixty thousand? Are you mad?”

  “How much would you pay for golden dragonel genetic material, David?”

  “That all depends on whether or not that material is worth a damn.”

  “There are eight incubating young as we speak.”

  Shocked silence took the room, and through the corner of his eye, Sebastian could see the blue dragonel female beside him turn her head toward him. He kept his gaze resolutely fixed on the carpet, just like Christopher had instructed.

  Lord Ashmar spoke first, in a tone redolent with disgust. “Eight?”

  There was a hesitation, and Sebastian imagined the Countess sipping her wine, a smile on her face. “So, David… given this new information, is sixty thousand really so much to ask?”

  “Cash or chit?” he asked.

  The diners laughed.

  “Cash, if you have it. Chit if you do not. But no contact with my dragonel will happen until the funds have been transferred to my account.” A door opened behind Sebastian, and the Countess said, “In any case, no contact of any kind until after dinner. We must save our treats for dessert, mustn’t we?”

  Food was served, and Sebastian’s back began to ache. Christopher spoke with a lazy, almost disintereste
d tone. “Frank, tell me - how does one obtain dragon genetics to make dragonels?”

  There was a pause, and then Frank, who must have been the president of GenTel, answered. “Well, as you can imagine, obtaining cells from a live mythric is a dangerous prospect, especially where dragons are concerned. It’s not like wolfen, like our Martin’s forebears, which can be tranquilized and harvested by our hunters.”

  “Then how do you do it?” Christopher pressed. “I won’t ask trade secrets about how you obtain royal dragon DNA, but as with our blue dragonel pet, here. How was her dragon DNA obtained?”

  The side conversations stilled. Apparently, this was a topic that interested most of the diners. Frank continued, sounding reluctant.

  “I’d rather not give too much away, but…”

  “No,” the Countess interjected. “Tell me. I fund this research. I want to know how you’re using my investment.”

  “Your investment is kneeling on that platform,” Frank said testily, just shy of snapping. “But our hunters have become adept at obtaining DNA from dragon eggshells and from the pith of shed dragon scales.”

  “Royal dragons hoard their shells and scales as a matter of course,” another woman said. She had spoken until this moment. “How did you obtain the DNA from a gold?”

  Frank simpered, “That’s a trade secret, Natalie.”

  A man with a deep voice said, “I don’t really care how you get the DNA, as long as you do. I’ve been very pleased with Penelope. She’s been a good pet and I’ve bred two blue dragonels from her in the past three years. She’s almost ready to breed again. Do you think a blue dragonel and a gold…?”

  “No. I do not,” the Countess answered firmly. “I will not have the bloodlines sullied and mixed. Besides, goldens are hard enough to breed on their own without corrupting them with lesser bloodlines.”

  “Maybe it would be enjoyable to watch them try, though,” Frank suggested.

  Sebastian felt ill.

  The Countess chuckled. “Perhaps, but not my dragonel. I am very selective about his mating and coupling partners. If anyone I do not approve takes liberties with him, it goes very badly for them.”

  Michael’s face rose in Sebastian’s mind, and he wondered what had become of him.

  “There was an orderly at Crown Holdings…” Christopher began. Sebastian was grateful to his Master for remembering the questions that he’d asked.

  “‘Was’ being the operative word,” Lord Ashmar sniffed. “The wolfrings have to eat.”

  Martin, the furry cryptomorph to Sebastian’s right, snickered.

  “Isn’t it also true,” one of the other guests said slowly, “that DNA can be obtained from the mucus around fresh droppings?”

  Marchelline gasped. “That’s hardly proper dinner conversation!”

  “Dinner is over,” the guest dismissed. “It’s a valid question. Lord Christopher, you’re a man of science. Can you answer that question?”

  Christopher hesitated, then said, “There is a certain amount of DNA that can be obtained from fecal samples, yes, in the right conditions. It’s usually too degraded by acids and other contaminants to be of any use in the way you’re suggesting.”

  “But it’s possible,” the guest pressed.

  “In theory, yes.”

  The guest laughed. “Then it’s possible that your golden dragonel here is nothing but a piece of dragon shit, polished and reconstituted.”

  The Countess clicked her tongue. “Timothy, that’s vulgar, and your jealousy is unbecoming. Does it matter where the DNA comes from? The fruit of GenTel’s labors kneels before you now, adult, sexually viable, and ready for your inspection and enjoyment… under the proper terms.”

  David said, “Speaking of terms, I have my chit.”

  “The transfer dock is behind you.” Sebastian could hear the Countess’s smile.

  There was a moment of motion and clicking, and then a tiny beep sounded.

  “There,” David announced. “Funds transferred successfully.”

  “Then, my friend, you may be the first to begin the evening’s entertainment.”

  The man rose from the dining table rapidly, his chair scraping loudly over the floor as he pushed it back in his eagerness to stand. He walked to the platform and stood in front of Sebastian. He wore white spats over red shoes, and his trousers were red with a crisp crease and a shallow, upturned cuff.

  “Look at me.”

  Hesitantly, Sebastian obeyed. The man who stared back at him had a plain face, neither ugly nor attractive, and his brown hair had the first touches of grey at the temples. His eyes were dark and narrow, and he studied Sebastian closely, one corner of his mouth turned up.

  “Lovely. You have the most amazing eyes.”

  “You may respond,” Christopher told him.

  Sebastian swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Sebastian, sir.”

  “Sebastian,” he echoed. “Interesting name.”

  He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

  “My name is David, but you will call me Master.”

  Christopher snapped. “No.” David turned and looked over his shoulder, and Sebastian, now free to look ahead, saw a look of anger on his captor’s face. “I am his only Master.”

  David hesitated. “Of course. My mistake.” He turned back to face the dragonel. “Call me sir, then.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man raised his hand and touched Sebastian’s lips with a probing fingertip. “Do not look away from my eyes, no matter what I do,” David ordered. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His finger traced his lips, then pushed inside. He stroked Sebastian’s tongue and teeth, searching and exploring him with a rough curiosity. David added a second finger and pushed in farther, brushing the back of Sebastian’s throat.

  “Show me how you suck cock,” he ordered.

  Sebastian swallowed and began to suckle the intrusive fingers, allowing them to dip down into his throat as if he was going down on someone large. He swallowed around those fingers and tried to keep his eyes pinned to David’s as the man’s pupils widened. The human’s mouth opened slightly, and Sebastian could see the tip of his tongue resting wetly against his bottom lip. Everything about this man disgusted him.

  David pulled his hand free and wiped Sebastian’s saliva over the surface of his collar and down the gold scales of his chest. “Softer than I thought they’d be,” he commented. He continued to run his hand down the dragonel’s midline until he reached his cock, which was resting flaccid against his thigh. David grasped it and gave it a few hard strokes. “Speaking of soft. I thought you were sexually viable.”

  He wanted desperately to look away from the man’s beady eyes, but he knew that to do so would elicit punishment, and the evening was already bad enough as it was. He tried to will himself to get hard, even though he had no desire for the man touching him.

  Christopher rose from his seat. “You have no finesse, David. Let me show you.”

  David stepped back and let the veterinarian take control. Christopher put one hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and took his cock in the other. “Sebastian,” he ordered softly, “look away from him and look at me.”

  He gladly shifted his focus to Christopher’s beautiful face. The veterinarian’s hand teased him, his fingertips dragging lightly from the root to the gold-painted tip. Desire suddenly burned through him, as if he had been injected with the serum from Crown Holdings. Sebastian’s lips parted in a gasp of surprise and his cock stiffened immediately, straining in Christopher’s hand.

  David watched, transfixed. A drop of spittle clung to his lower lip, but he licked it away before it fell. “Hmm.”

  “He is too fine for rough handling,” Christopher said quietly, his voice calm. Only the look in his eyes betrayed the desire that he was feeling. Their gazes remained locked as he released his hold and stepped back. “Be gentl
e, and you will be much rewarded.”

  Sebastian took a shuddering breath, and David stepped up again. He replaced Christopher’s hand with his own, but this time his touch was lighter, less bruising. He worked Sebastian’s erection steadily but with more care, and this time he found himself gasping in pleasure.

  Something had shifted inside him when Christopher had touched him. Suddenly the watching eyes of the other diners were not intrusive; they were erotic. He felt the pleasure suffusing him, making his skin glow. He found that he was enjoying showing off for these people. He wanted them to watch him. He could see on their faces how they all wanted to be part of this, and how they all yearned to touch him. He loved the way they ached for him, and the knowledge that they did was making him feel powerful.

  The feelings confused him. He should not have felt this way. He didn’t understand.

  Christopher’s voice spoke in his mind. -Think of it as a gift.-

  He was confused, but another rush of pleasure pushed all conscious thought from his mind.

  “I want to taste him,” David said. “Will the paint…”

  “The paint won’t come off,” Christopher assured him. “Do as you wish.”

  David dropped to his knees in front of the platform where the dragonel knelt with the other cryptomorphs. Sebastian stared into his Master’s eyes while the strange dinner guest wrapped his thick, wet lips around the tip of his weeping cock. Sebastian’s mouth opened and his breaths came faster, and David’s head bobbed. Christopher’s dark eyes bored into Sebastian’s golden ones, and the dragonel imagined that it was his Master’s mouth that was pleasuring him. David pressed his tongue against the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft, and Sebastian imagined that it was Christopher’s tongue. He wondered if Christopher was imagining the same.

  He knew that the telepathic connection Christopher had opened up between them was still active, and before he could stop himself, he thought, -I wish that this was you.-

  -I know.-

  Christopher took a step back, moving out of the way so the other dinner guests could watch David sucking Sebastian’s needy cock. Every eye was on the way his sexual flush made his scales stand out, and the way the gold paint on his nipples made the tiny erect buds shine in the light. They were all rapt witnesses when the beautifully defined muscles in Sebastian’s abdomen began to contract.