“You love being helplessss,”
it said. “Pinned by my gaze, feeling me devour your liessss and force you
to accccept the truth, thissss excccitesss you. I can ssssmell your arousssal,
little morsssel.”

And it was true. I was incredibly
turned on. If it released me at that moment, I would have jammed a hand down my
pants and frigged myself then and there, dragon or no dragon. “I… it’s
just…” I stammered. “I’m just… used to this kind of situation
leading to sex, that’s all!”

“No,’ the dragon said.
"You ssssought out ssssituationssss where it would lead to ssssexxxx,
becausssse it isss ssssexxxxy to you.”

“No…” I said again,
fighting to resist the crystal certainty, the belief growing inside me. Because
it’s not true? Or because the struggle makes it hotter?–and if my knees
could have buckled at that thought, if I weren’t held immobile by the dragon’s
eye, they would have. “I… I always fought back.”

“Becaussse you believed you had
to,” the dragon said. “Becausse you believed your own lie that you
didn’t want to ssssubmit.”

“I… I…” Something
inside me snapped. A wall fell, and behind it there was only truth, the true
fact that I wanted to be used, to be broken, to be mindfucked. “…take
me…” I managed, and the dragon’s laughter echoed until the cavern shook.

“Now you sssee the truth,
little morsssel. But I have no desire for you, even if you could sssurvive a
mating long enough to get to the good partsss. Fear not, I will leave you
enough liessss to warm you. I will even give you a gift, in thanksss for liesss
of rare deliccciousssnesssss, a usssseful truth. Leave this placccce, and climb
down the cliff to the sssshore. Follow it, with the occcccean on your right,
and you will find your friendsssss.”

And with that, I was released from
its gaze. I staggered back out of the cave into the light of day, and nearly
collapsed onto the same outcropping I’d laid on for a while before. It had
me, I thought. It could have done anything, but it let me go. I
imagined if it hadn’t. What did it mean, I wouldn’t survive? How intense could
dragon sex be?

I couldn’t help myself, and the fact
that I couldn’t made it even better, even harder to resist. My hand slipped into my pants as
I closed my eyes and imagined the dragon becoming human-shaped, even while its
eyes stayed the same irresistible, inescapable flames. Imagined it pinning me
to the wall with eyes and cock, fucking my mind and body, using me, owning me,
claiming me, transforming me into its plaything–

I shoved the knuckles of my free
hand into my mouth to muffle my cries as I came. It was true, everything the
dragon had told me: I wanted to be controlled. The thought of my mind being
manipulated turned me on. And I honestly couldn’t be sure whether I had always
felt that way, or believed I had always felt that way because the dragon
made me.

And that may have been the hottest
thought of all.

---

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The most important rule of dealing
with dragons is that you never, ever look them in the eye. Everyone knows that.
What everyone doesn’t know–or at least, I didn’t until that moment–is how
hard it is not to. Its eye was enormous, at least as tall as I am, and
flame-colored: dull red around the edges, mostly orange, and then shading into
bright yellow in the middle. Its pupil was pitch-black, though, and slitted
like a cat’s. While I stared, the dragon blinked, but not with its eyelid. Some
kind of inner, transparent eyelid flicked across its eye. Great, so it can even
blink without breaking its gaze.

I couldn’t look away. I was caught,
helpless prey staring into the gaze of the ultimate predator. I couldn’t move,
couldn’t flee, couldn’t cast a spell: all I could do was look into that fiery
eye as it seemed to expand until it filled the world. I was going to die. 

“Greetingsssss…” it
said. Its voice was a low rumble, ending in a snakelike hiss. “What
bringssss you to my home, human?”

The most important rule of dealing
with dragons is to be polite, and I know that’s the third “most important
rule” I’ve mentioned. They’re all the most important rule, because make
one mistake with a dragon, and you die. “I’m sorry,” I ventured.
“I didn’t know anyone lived here, I was just looking for shelter. 

It made a strange rumbling noise. A
chuckle? "You lie,” it said. 

“No! I really didn’t–”

“Quiet,” it said, and my
mouth snapped shut instantly. “You knew sssomeone lived here, that isssss
why you came. You sssstole food.”

I gulped. “I’m sorry. I
shouldn’t have–”

“No matter. You will make
recompenssssse. You will provide nourissssshment in lieu of that which you
took.”

Oh fuck oh fuck it’s going to eat
me what do I do!? But there was nothing I could do. Its gaze held me utterly
helpless. All I could do was think, and talk if it let me.

“Fear not,” it said.
“I will not consssume your flesssh. I desssire sssussssstenancccce of a
different sssssort. Oncccce it hassss been provided, you ssssshall depart in peaccccce.”

“Why should I believe you?
Everyone knows the most important rule for dealing with dragons is never believe anything
they say!”

“Impertinent whelp! You are
lucky I had a good nap and am in a good mood, elsssse I would take what I want
and burn you to asssssh. You are wrong; we do not lie. That issss a lie
humanssss tell becaussssse they fear what we do even more. We do not make liesssss–we
conssssume them.”

“What?” What could that
even mean?

“I will take away your liessss,
little morssssel,” it said. “I will leave you naked before the truth,
and then sssend you back into the world. That isss why you humansss want to
believe we lie, becausssse you do not want to believe the truth we ssshow
you.”

And it was true. I knew, somehow,
that it was true, that everything the dragon told me was an iron-hard, crystalline
fact. But I’d dealt with too many glamours and enchantments to trust that
feeling. “You’re lying. You’re making me feel like it’s true with magic,
but I know it’s not.”

It gave that rumbling chuckle.
“You would like to believe that, and not jussst becaussse it would let you
hold on to your liessss.”

“What are you talking
about?”

“How many timessss, little
morsssel? How many timessss have you let yourssself be caught, ensssslaved,
your thoughtssss and feelingssss rewritten by your captor?”

“That’s–that’s not my
fault!” I protested. 

“Isssn’t it?”

“I fought them! I broke
free!”

“But you wanted to
remain.”

“No,” I insisted, trying
to shake my head, but it was hard with my eyes held in its inexorable gaze. So
much easier to nod… “You’re just trying to control me yourself.”

“You would like that,” it
rumbled. “The thought fillssss you with desssire.”

“No,” I said again, but I
could feel the flush spreading through me, my growing wetness. And that was it
making me feel this way, it had to be–and that thought made me even hotter.

To be continued…

---

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I climbed my way up and over to the
smoke. It was slow, painful going, my poor muscles screaming at me the entire
way. Finally I arrived at the source of the smoke, a large gap between two
outcroppings of rock. I never would have found it if it weren’t for the
smoke–the opening was invisible from below or either side.

I clambered on top of one of the
outcroppings and found a flat surface big enough to sprawl out on. It was warm
in the sun, and felt good against my aching body while a lay there for a
while. 

But my aching stomach compelled me
to go further. I turned to face the opening. Thanks to its angle, it was dark
inside, so I cast another light spell and walked in, the glowy ball hovering
above my head. 

My nose twitched as something wonderful
filled it, the most welcome smell I could have imagined: roast meat. I found
the source before long: someone had roasted what looked like an entire godsdamned
cow and just left it lying there, warm and fragrant. 

It was a LOT of meat. Surely whoever
it was wouldn’t mind sharing a little, right? With some difficulty, I ripped a chunk
off and tore into it. It was really badly cooked: it tasted like they’d
forgotten to put on any seasoning at all, and it was burnt in some spots while
practically raw in others. 

But at that moment, it was the most
delicious thing I’d ever tasted. I wolfed it down, and then lay there for a
while, luxuriating in the feeling of a full belly. 

A little too much, I guess, because
I fell asleep again. By the time I woke up, I was feeling much better, almost
human again. And still no sign of whoever this cave belonged to, just the smell
of meat and smoke. 

I considered just leaving, but what if
it was Iason and Iola, or somebody who could help me figure out where I was? It
made sense to look for them–which meant following the smoke smell farther into
the cave. 

The cave soon opened out into a large
chamber. The floor here was smooth but uneven, as it rose into a series of
lumps or hills on the far side. I increased the brightness of my light smell,
trying to figure out what I was looking at, and spotted the source of the
smoke: it was coming out of two holes in one of the smaller lumps, near the
center of the room. 

A lump shaped sort of like a horse’s
head… and then that long rounded ridge was a neck, which made the really big
hilly thing the body, and–fuck, it’s a dragon, isn’t it?

As if on cue, the dragon rumbled and
shifted. It’s wings rustled for a heart-freezing moment, and then it was
still. 

Okay, Lemma, you’ve stumbled into a
dragon’s lair and eaten part of its lunch. Back away slowly and quietly.
Remember the rules for dealing with dragons. The most important rule: let
sleeping dragons lie.

I walked backwards, but I must have
gotten rotated slightly, because my butt went straight into the wall. I risked
turning away from the dragon to find the exit–it was a couple feet to my left.
Then I turned back and saw the dragon looking right at me.

To be continued…

---

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The water turned out to be farther
than expected. It was getting pretty sunset-y when I finally found it–not a
close-by stream or river after all, but a waterfall quite a bit further away,
crashing into a pool that looked way too small to hold it. Maybe the water went
underground to the sea? Is that something that happens? I think that’s what
grottoes are, maybe?

Look, point is, WATER. You better
believe I shoved my face in and drank every drop I could hold. 

Then I threw up. Again. 

THEN I drank a little, waited until
I was sure my stomach could handle it, drank a little more, repeat until
dark. 

When I was finally sated, I gathered
my strength and cast a little light spell. I was soaked, chilly, and hungry.
Falling asleep out in the open was a bad plan, and that was before taking into
account bears or tigers or unicorns or whatever predators they had in these
parts. 

When I was finally sated, I gathered
my strength and cast a little light spell so I wouldn’t trip over anything while
I searched for shelter. I was soaked, chilly, and hungry. Falling asleep out in
the open was a bad plan, and that was before taking into account bears or tigers
or unicorns or whatever predators they had in these parts. 

I set off looking under and around
the falls. Maybe there was a cave I could hide out in–it would be easy to get
a fire going, that’s kind of my specialty, and that should keep me warm, dry,
and safe from predators while I rested. 

Sure enough, I found what I was
looking for, a nice, dry cave, not too deep, and with a scraggly couple of
bushes nearby I could drag in and set ablaze.

I woke up dry and hurting slightly
less than the previous day, though none of my muscles were happy about sleeping
on rock. I was also STARVING. I needed to find food today, but how? Back down
to the shore and hope some fish came into the shallows? But how to catch them?

No, there was only one way to go,
exactly the direction I didn’t want to deal with: up. Higher up the rocks I
could see the tops of some trees. There must be something up there I could
eat–berries, roots, maybe a bird or a squirrel?

I walked around for a bit, trying to
find a good way up, and that’s when I saw it: a wisp of smoke. Thin, curly, and
steady, the kind of smoke that doesn’t just mean there’s fire, but a small, controlled
fire that isn’t expanding or burning itself out. 

And that kind of fire means people.
People who might have food! Maybe it’d be Iason or Iola, and even if it was a
stranger, they might be willing to share in exchange for… Hmm. I mentally ran
over the list of things I had to offer, post-shipwreck. One pocket dimension
containing a small number of spellbooks, not going to share that… And… That
was it. Well, if necessary, I was sure they’d find the generosity in their hearts
to share their food in exchange for not being set on fire.

To be continued…

---

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I shut my eyes again and
concentrated on the storm, the enormous magical energy roiling through
it, the raw power of  sea and wind and sky. Problem was, a storm at sea is
about as wild as wild magic can be, the most alien thing to human kinds
of power this  side of the Outer Dark. But I’d managed once before to use
a spell of  transference to convert an immense source of wild
magic–Brea’s healing powers–into a high-magic spell. 

Yeah, a spell you prepared in
advance, that took hours. All you’ll manage in ten seconds is to kill us all!

Shut  up, me, I thought, and
began the spell. If I could get this right, I  could sap wind and sky
magic from the storm and feed it into the plank,  using the storm itself
to power a flight spell strong enough to get us  to land!

Just had to focus, keep control…
The sea surged,  and the raft spun into the air again, carrying us with
it. “Hold on!” I  shouted unnecessarily, and pushed the magic
into the wood. 

We  hung in the air, just like
before… And then kept hanging, still  spinning, but headed for the
shore! We were flying! Well, floating,  anyway. The wind was doing the
rest. 

Okay, maybe more wobbling than
flying… Ugh…

I  felt the bubble form at the
top of my stomach, then rise painfully up  through my chest. My mouth was
suddenly full of spit, and my head  swimming. Nonononono, gotta focus,
gotta keep control…

My stomach spasmed, and I started
dry heaving. The magic spun away from me. And then the plank exploded.

My last thought before I hit the
black wall of water rushing up to meet me was, Killed by my own spell. Dammit,
mom was right.

* * *

The  first surprise was that I
woke up. The second surprise was that I was  lying on something hard and
uneven. Land! Hard, rocky ground! Even while  I coughed and heaved
approximately seven million gallons of sea water  onto it, it was
beautiful. 

After, I collapsed back onto the
 rocks. I felt like shit. Every part of my body hurt, I was thirsty as
 hell, my stomach was still twitching irritably, and it was way too
hot. 

All  I wanted was to lay there
on the shore, but I knew I needed to move. I  needed water, shelter, and
eventually even–ugh, my stomach hated this  thought–food. 

I staggered painfully to my feet.
Nothing  seemed broken, but I felt like one giant bruise as I looked up and
down  the coast. No signs of any rivers, but that’s where water goes,
right?  Down to the sea? So if I followed the coast long enough, I’d have
to  reach fresh water. 

I set out at a brisk stagger, but it
was hard going. The ground was  rough and uneven, and I was (as I
may have mentioned) exhausted, dehydrated, and a solid mass of bruises. When I
finally heard water, I practically fainted. Especially when I realized it
wasn’t coming from ahead; it was coming from my left. In other words,
from higher up the slope.

“Dammit, why can’t anything
ever be easy?” I groused as I began clambering up the rocks. It wasn’t
THAT  bad of a slope, it was just one more obstacle when I was already
fucking exhausted. But I had no choice–water’s water. 

At last, after like a billion
years of climbing, I found my way up to more level-ish ground. I looked
down the sheer thousand-foot cliff I’d climbed to find it was more like
20 feet, and not anywhere near as bad of a slope as it’d felt like. Whatever,
I thought. When I find Iason,  I’ll tell him it was a thousand feet
straight up. It’s not really lying  if that’s what it felt like, right?

…And I’m GOING to find him. He’s
here. Somewhere.

(To be continued…)

---

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“Well… Now what?” I
asked. 

Iola and Iason gave me blank
looks. 

“Well,  you’re Sea People,
right? You must know something to get us out of… this!” I slapped
the water’s surface, making a little splash. 

“We’re monster slayers,”
Iola replied. “Do you see any monsters?”

“I could stab the ocean if it’d
make you feel better.”

“Shut up, Iason." 

"I mean, you’re the one who got
us into this mess, maybe you have bright ideas how we can get out of it?”
Iason continued.

“Shut up!”

Problem  is, he was right. Ish.
It was true that I’d–quite justifiably!–set  the captain of our ship on
fire. And okay, the rest of the ship. But that part was an accident! Even
so, I had to admit if I hadn’t, we  wouldn’t be clinging to a
four-foot-long, five-inch-wide, slightly  charred bit of deck in the
middle of the ocean. 

I just wasn’t going to admit it out
loud.

“At  least the ship stayed
in sight of land,” I said, looking at the distant  shadow on the
water, just before the horizon. “If we can just figure out a way to
get there…”

“Um, Lemma?” asked Iason.
“What’re you looking at?”

“Land,” I said,
pointing. 

“The  shore is the other
way,” said Iola. I looked over my shoulder to see  where she was
pointing–rather closer than the horizon, but still much too far away,
was a rocky shore. 

“Than what’s that?” I
asked.

“…Fuck,” said Iason.
“Do you think those are storm clouds?”

Iola peered into the distance, her
brow furrowed. “They might be.”

“You don’t know!?” I
sputtered. “You’re Sea People!”

“We’re! Not!
Sailors!” Iason shouted. “Just because we’re Sea People doesn’t mean we’re… sea… people! Do you fit every stereotype of
Lemurians!?”

“Well, she is a powerful
spellcaster who thinks she’s better than everyone else,” replied Iola.

“Can we focus on the oncoming
storm maybe?” I asked. “Before it drowns us?”

“We don’t know for sure it is
a storm,” said Iason. “We might be fine!”

* * *

It was a storm. 

The waves grew harsher and
choppier as it approached, tossing our makeshift little raft like–well,
like the flotsam it was. Or jetsam, I can never  remember the
difference. 

Lightning flashed as the sea
 surged. “This is bad!” Iason shouted over the growing din as we
drifted  momentarily through the air, before smacking down into the water,
hard. 

“You think!?” I shouted
back. “Urgh…” My stomach lurched with the waves. 

Iason saw my expression and his
widened. “Oh no,” he said. “Don’t do it, Lemma!”

I shut my eyes, trying to
fight down the nausea while I clung desperately to the raft. The storm
was going to kill us, I knew it. If the waves  and wind didn’t get us, our
own exhaustion would. We were powerless.

Power…

“I–ulgh–have an idea,” I
said. 

“What!?” shouted
Iason. 

“She has an idea!” shouted
Iola back. 

“Then do it!” he
yelled. 

My stomach was twisting around
itself and my chest was burning. “It’s… not a very good idea…”

“What!?”

“She said it’s not a good
idea!”

“It can’t be worse that
drowning!”

I  hope you’re right, Iason.

(To be continued…)

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