Page 25 of Breaking Briar

“Well? Anything to say?”

“P- please,” she whines, twisting back and forth. “I can’t take anymore.”

“Yes you can,” I growl, running my thumb along her clit again. “What sort of prince charming would I be if I came and not you?”

“C- came? Came where? You’re already here. Of course, you came.”

As angry as I am, I find I cannot resist the urge to laugh at her confusion. “Ahhh, my sweet little innocent. Perfect for defiling.”

Gripping my base, I tug on my cock, grateful when it finally pops free. I’ll have to remember that for next time. I might not want to be so confined after I fuck her.

The moment my cock leaves the warm haven of her body, Briar comes to life, thrashing about, kicking at me with all her might. I barely feel the soft blows. The dragon, however, takes note of every single one and demands retribution for them.

“Settle,” I growl, sliding my fingers deep inside her cunt.

At the sudden invasion, she freezes. Her eyes water as desperation pours off of her. Poor thing can’t decide if she wants to keep experiencing pleasure at my hand or run for her life. I’m sure of it.

“Open your mouth.”

When she refuses, the dragon snarls, fed up with these antics. I search the room, looking high and low for a way to restrain her. There, off to the side, is a hank of rope. Why it’s there, I’ll never know, but in that moment, I’m grateful something’s going right.

I ease the talons from her wrists and lean up to lap at the blood dripping from the wounds. With each swipe of my tongue, the injury seems to heal right in front of my eyes.

Is this part of the witches’ gifts? Or is this something new? Master Balcom - my father - never wrote about the dragon’s saliva having healing properties. If that were the case, he’d still be with me now. He would just heal himself.

Hot, bitter tears blur my vision, making Briar swim before me. I can’t let her see me weak like this. She’ll no doubt take full advantage. Snarling, I toss her to the floor and stride over to the rope.

Just as I suspected, the instant she’s free of my presence, she scrambles to her feet and runs. Stupid, stupid girl. The dragon locks onto her scent, tracking her as I grab the rope.

There’s still enough brambles and thorns to make her escape slow and treacherous. I don’t have to worry just yet. And so, I take my time, measuring out various lengths and slicing through with my talon.

Once all the pieces are tied to the bed, I start my hunt. With the dragon’s eyes, the world is transformed into a riot of colors and visual sensations. Everything is black and white except the heat coming off of living creatures.

Mice scurry about, fleeing the predator they sense coming out of the room. Small birds flit about, looking for a place to land that isn’t covered in thorns. Smaller mammals waddle about, their movements erratic and unsure.

But they aren’t the ones we care about. Looking across the distance, I spot a much larger shape. Human. Briar. Dragging air into my lungs, I take in her scent and snarl. She’s not too far from me.

Closing my eyes, I regain my normal sight. There, not more than twenty feet away from me, is Briar. Her lovely brown hair snags in the thorns and brambles, keeping her from making more headway.

A grin hovers on my lips. And to think I found child-like derision at the idea of a witch giving her the blessing of hair that never tangled. I’m sure now she wishes they had that much foresight.

As it is, the strands hanging down around her face are pristine, not snarled up. Honestly, it appears as if she just brushed it. However, it doesn’t keep the others from getting wrapped around the branches and holding her tight until I can get there.

The closer I get, the more frantic her movements become. Her fingers claw at her hair as she tugs and pulls, making it far more knotted and unmanageable. Blood drips from her fingers and onto the delicate strands, turning her hair into a muddy brown.

My cock shouldn’t surge up as I watch her. I shouldn’t want to keep her there, impaling her on the thorns as I invade her with my cock. Precum pearls at the tip at the very thought.

Fascination floods my mind as I watch the scratches heal mere moments after her blood drips down. So it’s not my saliva after all. My little princess truly is unbreakable.

My lust burns hotter than the dragon’s fire hovering at the base of my throat. Forget the paltry ropes on the bed. My little hellcat will feel the kiss of thorns pressing into her flesh, holding her open for me.

“Poor little princess,” I purr, circling around her.

Again, she thrashes, crying out as the thorns yank her hair. But it’s not the sob of pain or agony. Oh no. It’s the soft, husky moan of desperation. Her arousal mixed with my cum slides down her inner thighs, making them glisten, revealing the magnitude of her need.

“I can help you, sweet Briar. I can ease your discomfort. Would you like that? Would you like me to make you sing your pleasure to the heavens so loud my men at the castle will hear you?”

Her movements still as her mouth drops open in a horrified ‘O’. “Y- your men? Your men now have the castle? But- But-”