The Dragon's Pet Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

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  The Dragon’s Pet

  By

  Loki Renard

  Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Loki Renard

  Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Loki Renard

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  Renard, Loki

  The Dragon’s Pet

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Images by 123RF/Dmitriy Raykin, 123RF/Kostic Dusan, 123RF/Demetrio Mascarenas, and Deviantart/Indigodeep

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  Prologue

  “He still has the human?”

  A rough voice asked the question, more than a hint of amusement and disbelief in its rumbling tones.

  There was an answering laugh that sounded like a small eruption in the twilight of the setting sun. “He does. He thinks she can be trained.”

  Two largely human forms held their discussion on the small fortified bank of a mountain’s edge, their golden catlike eyes scanning the horizon of the planet that would soon be theirs. They wore no clothing, their nakedness a point of pride rather than shame.

  They had much to be proud of. Their physiques were chiseled, their faces sculpted in intense expressions that remained elegant at rest. They were burly and bulky with powerful shoulders narrowing to fit waists. They were warriors. Every inch of them had been created for battle. Cast in the low light of the setting sun, one would have been forgiven for mistaking them for young gods.

  “Is training the same as mating her?”

  “That is how humans learn, so General Vyktor says,” the warrior laughed. “Makes you curious what she must feel like around your rod.”

  “He’ll tear your throat out if you try to find out,” his comrade replied. “He’s more possessive of her than he is of his jewels.”

  “Gentlemen.”

  A deeper, gruffer voice interrupted the warriors’ salacious discussion of their commander as the very man they had been talking about had stepped out onto the mountainside ledge.

  General Vyktor was an impressive specimen in either of his forms and he commanded their respect easily, no simple task. His golden eyes seared into them both, their postures changing instantly as he walked toward them. Where they had stood tall, heads high, now they bowed them in an unmistakable show of respect.

  Their commander was a handsome man. He had a broad face with high cheekbones, strong nose, and a powerful jaw. He looked upon his men with great golden eyes, surveying them with a knowing stare. He was far from the oldest among them, but Vyktor had made his mark upon the war band early and had risen to one of the highest ranks before most dragons his age were considering leaving their parents’ nest. He had defended that rank ably for many years, and there were few who would cross him. Certainly not these two warriors with their eyes now fixed at his feet.

  Dragon warriors respected one thing: strength. Every inch of the young general’s body was powerful. He had a bearing that spoke to the strength he had shown in many battles both in this simple realm and in their own lands. He was naked as they were, his manhood swinging heavy between his thighs.

  “I will be presenting my pet for her discipline momentarily,” he announced. “If you would proceed to the chamber, I wish to have a full audience.”

  The warriors did not need a second invitation. They thanked the general and made their way into the chamber that had been prepared for the purpose of displaying the general’s pet. There was a raised platform, encircled in bars that would not have stopped a dragon for a moment, but against which Vyktor’s pet was helpless.

  As they filed in and took their places, the naked young human woman looked at them with a spirited glower. She was captured, but she was far from broken. Her arms were chained above her head, her feet shackled to the ground, not so tight that she would be in pain, but more than tight enough to ensure that every inch of her beautiful body was bare to their gaze. Humans were so soft and so curvy. The flare of her hips, the swell of her bottom and her breasts drew their eyes inexorably. Her legs were slightly parted, and a keen eye would have noticed the sheen of desire marked high on her inner thighs.

  The dragon men looked on with curiosity and desire. No prisoners had been taken before this one. It had been forbidden. Of course, General Vyktor was above such decrees. He was free to take anything he pleased. And this human had pleased him. They watched as he stepped into the cage with her, saw how she reacted to him with a soft quivering sigh.

  “My pet has misbehaved,” Vyktor declared, laying a slap on her bottom. She gasped, biting her pink lower lip as she squirmed naked on the spot. “She believes that her obedience is contingent upon her desire to be obedient. We are here to prove otherwise to her.”

  He landed another hard slap and the pretty human hissed, squirming in her bonds.

  “That hurts,” she complained, her pout aimed at Vyktor.

  The dragons exchanged smirks. This human had no idea who she was truly dealing with. Vyktor was first among his legion. He was one of the bravest warriors to ever enter battle—and he was not known for his mercy. He was being incredibly gentle with her, and she did not seem to know it. The little love taps that left her cheeks blushing were delivered at a fraction of the intensity he was capable of, and they were doing little other than stimulating her body to bloom beneath his palm.

  The soft curves of her body flowed in a slow squirm as Vyktor slid his hand from her bottom and caressed her flank, hip, and breast. His eyes were locked on hers, demanding her attention, commanding her will.

  “You forget your place, pet,” he said in soft censure.

  Again, the dragons raised brows at one another. Had she ever truly known it? Humans were headstrong at the best of times, but the one Vyktor had taken as his pet was truly willful. He should have known she would be; she was one of the few humans who had taken to the skies in an effort to do battle with them—as unequal a fight as could be imagined, except perhaps for the battle of wills taking place before them now.

  She strained at her chains as the dragon general caressed her body, his touch making her react in a thousand little ways, many of which were entirely involuntary. She could not stop her breath from quickening. She could not stop her pupils from dilating. She could not even seem to stop the natural arch of her hips and the spreading of her legs—an undeniable invitation to mate.

  The dragon cohort had been skeptical at first when Vyktor told them of his plans to take and train a human, but there could be no denying it now. Sh
e was utterly in thrall to him, as much as she might want to resist it at times, even outright disobey, she could not stop herself from reacting precisely as he intended.

  The general’s fingers dipped between her thighs, found her hot, wet tightness, and once again the dance of discipline began…

  Chapter One

  One month earlier…

  High over the Mojave Desert, a fighter jet sliced through the air leaving two trails of white vapor in its wake. Its pilot was a young woman named Aria Thomas-Jones, a slim figure strapped securely into the cockpit of the powerful bird. She had taken off from Edwards air force base almost seven hours ago on a solo patrol around the aberration that had forever changed the course of human history.

  California blue sky gave way to a dark swirling mass that spread across miles of once pristine sky. It was centered above a building erected in the middle of nowhere, a scientific military installation now entirely abandoned. There were still tracks on the desert floor marking where people had fled, their tires digging in here and there. One or two vehicles were abandoned, broken down from the storm that had been raging for several weeks.

  To Aria, it looked like what a tornado might look like if you extracted its soul. Green and gray and full of perpetual rain that burned everything beneath it. This was the fruit of a scientific advance gone awry. Humanity had been predicting disaster at the hands of advancement from the moment steam engines managed to transport a person faster than a horse could ride. It had been a long time coming, but finally those people had been proven correct in the most terrifying way possible. The sky had fallen, and it had brought with it a hell so real that churches across the world were packed to the brim day and night.

  The storm had not brought demons, however, and it was not a storm. It was, simply put, a hole.

  “And they thought the hole in the ozone layer was bad,” Aria muttered to herself as she steered her plane in a patrol around the very outer perimeter of the thing. There were eyes on the anomaly at every hour of the day and night. It was all the military could do to monitor the situation as it developed—the ‘situation’ being a chasm in the very fabric of reality through which creatures that could only be described as dragons were being birthed into the world.

  They came angry, and they came destructive, wreaking havoc on everything in their path. It was fortunate that many had evacuated when the experimental fusion plant that had created this monstrosity first showed signs of malfunctioning. Previous disasters had given people a healthy respect for energy gone awry and the panicked evacuation had no doubt saved many lives.

  So far casualties were relatively few and mostly secondary to the damage caused by the dragons, rather than the dragons themselves, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t increase in time, and it didn’t make the dragons any less dangerous.

  Aria adjusted her heading slightly, taking her off the patrol trajectory and toward the portal proper. High winds buffeted her plane, sending it through a torrent of turbulence. At first it had been stomach churning, but she was starting to get used to it now, fighting the elements that were so disrupted and twisted near the center of the thing. She wasn’t supposed to get this close, but curiosity always drew her past the official perimeter. Ordinarily that would have gotten her ass kicked, but in the middle of a battle unlike anyone had imagined possible, there wasn’t time to kick her ass.

  She saw the flash of a dark wing in the clouds, the rise of the curved line of some unnatural body giving her a reaction much like a swimmer seeing a fin slicing though water. Here be dragons. Hundreds of them. The sound of the Earth’s atmosphere raging at the wound dealt to its very core served to block out their roars and the sound of her engine as she rocketed through the billowing clouds.

  It was dangerous to be this close. She was relying on the cloud itself to keep her obscured from the monsters roiling in it. If they were to catch sight of her and pursue her, her craft would do nothing to protect her. What drew her on in spite of the danger, what had called her from the beginning was the calm she knew must be at the center of the chaos—the point at which two worlds met. Some said that if you flew right to the eye of the aperture, you could see the other realm and even pass through it.

  Aria wanted that so badly she could almost taste it. She rode the highs and the lows, her stomach rising and falling, clinging to consciousness as she pulled high gravitational forces in the quest for the very center of the portal through which Earth had been invaded.

  “Trouble! Return to base!”

  Her radio crackled to life.

  Aria swore as her plane began giving her orders in her commander’s voice. “You are beyond the perimeter. Return to base immediately!”

  He sounded pissed. Even so, Aria thought about disobeying the order. The turbulence was enough to make her sick, or would have been if she’d had anything in her stomach, but she was on the cusp of seeing something very few people would ever see. A single pilot had flown through the portal. He had not returned. Nobody knew what had befallen him on the other side, but Aria wanted to find out.

  She was getting closer to the core of the thing and the dark pea soup cloud was beginning to clear. The shadow of a creature many times more powerful than herself cast over her cockpit as one of the dragons passed above her head. It took several seconds to clear her cockpit, reminding her just how much she was up against.

  “This is insane,” she muttered to herself, peeling off to drop back and below the cloud. She reset her heading to the base, feeling a tinge of regret and a little bit of self-recrimination at her cowardice. She’d sneaked into the cloud many times before, but she never seemed to get the courage to go to the very center of it. The fear always became too great before she could push her plane past that final barrier.

  In some respects, what she saw once she was outside the dragon-infested cloud was worse than the shadowy creatures inside it. For miles around, the land bore the marks of their invasion. Vehicles were broken down along the roads, tires melted into the road from the breath of dragons. Small towns were razed entirely, foundations and basements all that remained of the simple little settlements. There were great tracts of scorch marks where nothing had ever been, but the dragons had decided to unleash their fire there anyway, leaving nothing standing.

  And then there were the forests, which had also caught fire in places and were burning out of control. Emergency services were hard pressed to get enough fire retardant in the air, and though the air force was focused on that too, it was an additional danger nobody needed to be dealing with. From the air, Aria could see plumes of smoke extending up and down the coast.

  Fortunately for her, the base itself was defended heavily by anti-aircraft armaments that were as effective against dragons as they were against planes. But the world could not be covered in heavy artillery and there was so much of it left completely unprotected. Much of California was already lost, but the battle continued nonetheless. Armaments and planes from all over the continent were being sacrificed at the dragon front, holding back the invasion to a certain extent.

  Aria set herself into a holding pattern above the base and radioed down.

  “This is Trouble, requesting permission to land.”

  Aria’s radio crackled with the controller’s response.

  “You’re clear for landing, Trouble. Bring her down.”

  Less than a minute later, the Tornado jet came screaming down onto the runway, thrust reversers screeching with the effort it took to stop her from jetting off the end and into the side of one of the hangars. Aria flew an older plane, but her Tornado was doing hard duty and holding up her end along with the newer, shinier models the top guns flew.

  There weren’t many of those planes left. The dragons were incredibly efficient at taking down aircraft when they wanted to. Aria was still in one piece only because she had never had a direct confrontation with them. Her encounters in the portal cloud were never aggressive because the cloud prevented her from getting a lock on any dragon in it, and
possibly because it shielded her from their aggression in the same way.

  The base was a ghost town compared to what it had been before the war. Attrition rates were so high that most fighters were now stationed a whole lot further to the east. Truth be told, California had all but been written off by command. Aria and a few other stoic souls had remained to hold the front, a front that was already lost.

  It was a relief to pull the oxygen straps from her face and open the cockpit—at least until she caught the scent of smoke that permeated the air almost constantly now. It was hot inside her flight suit, and she was slicked with sweat, exhausted from an eight-hour solo run over California. It had been such a depressing, angering experience, seeing the cities smoldering at the edges like overbaked potato chips, the countryside crisscrossed with those dark flaming tracts of land.

  She pulled her helmet from her head and swore, “Fuck.”

  “That rough, huh?” Her commanding officer met her on the tarmac. Chief Master Sergeant Rory Wetherstone. Silver-haired and wearing the marks of his service on his face, the only guy who’d been willing to have her in his unit, and the closest thing Aria had left to a father figure.

  “If this is my debriefing,” she said, wiping her face on the sleeve of her uniform. “Then I can officially report: Fuck. That.”

  Rory snorted. “We might need a little more detail than that, airman.”

  “Everything from here to Vegas is fucked,” she said bluntly. “The forests are still burning, and some of the towns. I counted at least a hundred lizards from there and back, and dropped a few aid packages over LA in case we’ve still got civilians holed up there.”