The Drow's Mistress

Chapter 12 Sleeping Together

The half-dragon sat up and swept her arm across the air. She imagined the drow’s hair spilling across her bed. It might serve as a substitute for real mithril for now.

Ysilnod murmured a quiet “Yes, Mistress”. He had been expecting this. His mistress was in the bloom of her youth. A second shadow that provided quiet company during meals and walks would not satisfy her. Ysilnod was no stranger when it came to providing services of the flesh. In fact, he was well acquainted with the practice and its many variants. Like every other male drow, he had been taught the many ways of pleasuring his mistress since childhood. His keen senses and sharp reflexes had been groomed for the battlefield and the bedroom. The drow was not flustered by Nidia’s demand. He wished to know his mistress’s preferences in bed. If she shared Minolene’s sadistic proclivities, he would devise a plan of escape immediately. He would prefer that she be uninitiated to the pleasures of the flesh. That would allow the drow to steer his mistress toward gentler methods.

“Hurry up! Why do you always drag your feet?” Nidia whined impatiently.

Ysilnod stripped the clothes that the half-dragon had bought for him and placed them neatly on the table. His dark skin glowed faintly under the moonlight. Then, in a few quick, soundless steps, he strode across the room, made his way to the bed and kneeled.

“Your wish is my command, Mistress,” the drow murmured before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Nidia’s dainty toes like a devout discipline would his goddess. He waited for his mistress to tell him what to do next.

Ysilnod’s gentleness was wasted on Nidia. In a single smooth move that hinted at the half-dragon’s impatience, Nidia reached out, clutched her servant’s bare shoulders and dragged him into bed before pinning him roughly onto the sheets. Her natural strength allowed the berserker to hold the drow down easily. The former assassin was like a carp on the cutting board. Ysilnod’s body went momentarily taut with tension. He prayed silently that this would not hurt too much.

Nidia spread the drow’s hair on the bed as she sat astride her servant’s bare form, then leaned back and admired the sight of his silver locks fanned across sheets. Combing her fingers through his tresses had felt like running them in a stream in summer. The silky strands felt cool on her skin and parted easily under her touch. Her hair was nothing like that. She could hardly get a brush through her stubborn curls without breaking something. As the half-dragon marveled at the amazing softness of elven hair, she slowly leaned back down and found herself a comfortable spot on a firm chest. Then, she stopped moving completely.

Ysilnod waited patiently in the dark. When nothing happened, he craned his neck to get a better look and was greeted by the sight of Nidia sprawled quietly across his chest. Her eyes were shut. Her body rose and fell slightly with each long, deep breath she took.

Was that all? Was this what she was talking about when she demanded that they sleep together? Tension rushed out of Ysilnod’s body instantly. He was seized by a deep sense of helplessness as he gazed down at the redhead. She looked tiny and weighed like a feather. He suffered little discomfort as she lay on him. Her body was a small furnace that emitted a comfortable heat that seeped through Ysilnod’s skin and steeped him in a protective warmth that shielded him from the night’s chill. She smelled like some sort of sweet, buttery pastry.

Quiet realization dawned on Ysilnod as he carefully placed his arms around his mistress. In the absence of mithril sheets, Nidia had decided that he was the next best thing to sleep on. Now, the dragonling had all her treasure tucked safely under her belly.

A sleepy satisfaction unfurled in the half-dragon’s slumbering mind. Nidia reached out and curled her fingers around a pointy elven ear before finally drifting deeper into dreams.

The night passed peaceably. As the first light of the day crept across the heavens, Ysilnod felt his mistress stir. She squinted hard at him before nuzzling his chest like a kitten, except, unlike a kitten, her nose was dry and warm. This was the first time Ysilnod had taken such care to study his mistress’s face. It took effort. The upbringing he had been given trained him to keep his eyes on the ground. To do otherwise would be to invite a hard beating.

Besides the rare shade of her amber eyes, she looked no different from an ordinary human young woman one would pass by in the streets. Her pink plump cheeks and small form made her look younger than she probably was.

“I had a dream last night. I dreamed of treasure and my father…” Nidia muttered drowsily. She did not seem ready to get up. Having slept like a baby last night, the half-dragon concluded that the restful slumber must be the result of her new “sheets”. Unlike the typical hairy human or dwarf, the drow’s hairless skin felt like warm silk. She felt swaddled in a sense of safety as she clutched his ear and slept. In fact, it reminded the half-dragon of her younger days, when she had curled her small fingers around the scale on her father’s chest as she slept in his arms.

Nidia pulled her hand away from the drow’s ear with much reluctance and found herself staring at a slightly swollen tip. Honestly, she had reined in her strength and stopped herself from gripping the ear too hard. However, the drow had just had his ears pierced last night. Her constant stroking as she slept probably had not helped him. She nudged herself upward and pressed her cheek into the drow’s neck.

“Does it hurt?”

The simple question felt alien to Ysilnod’s ears. He had never heard such concern addressed to his person. Nobody had ever cared if he was hurting.

“Not really,” he said as his heart stuttered. The drow’s eyes widened the next second when he felt something wet on his ear.

Nidia had placed his swollen ear in her mouth and was sucking it gently.

“Katkerastilent,” she muttered unintelligibly. It was one of the few draconic expressions she knew. When translated into the common tongue, it meant “Pain, begone.” Born without a dragon’s protective scaly armor, Nidia had gotten plenty of scrapes and bruises as a child. Her father would murmur that same thing as he licked her cuts clean. The saliva of a dragon did not possess the same miraculous healing properties of its blood. However, what little pain she had felt always eased away when her father uttered that phrase. The dragonling was convinced that the magic that resided within the draconic language had soothed her pain.

The half-dragon’s mouth was moist and warm, her breath scalding against the tender skin of Ysilnod’s ear, and her tongue almost serpentine as it slithered around the stud earring. The drow felt pleasure swell inside him. This was not the first time Nidia had done something so untoward and scandalous. Yet, her brazenness appeared to strip such acts of their lewdness. The drow appeared to be the only one of the two who was depraved, whose mind harbored filthy thoughts and whose body tensed and ached as if in anticipation, only to deflate when nothing happened. His reactions startled him. Did he wish for something to happen?