Dragon’s Might

M ordred rose up from his decrepit throne, inflated phallus still jutting

at full girth, before drawing a weapon from a sheath that leaned up

against his seat which was anything but decrepit. The massive two

handed blade was large and impressive… more impressive still, Mordred

wielded the behemoth in one clenched fist. Compared to the golden clad

knight’s weapon, Caliburn seemed a slim means of protection for the

Dragon.

“If thee wish we may dispense with blade and do battle with

aught but our hands and feet dragon,” the man taunted, “Thy blade is but

a rapier, I would snap it as a twig yet it does look so very expensive?”

Adalynda only smirked while she took up the traditional combat

stance of Camelot’s Knights, “Come and break her then… if thee can?”

Mordred grunted with effort, surged forward, and brought his

sword arm up in a backward arc that eventually brought his massive

blade back around over his head to slice vertically downward at his foe

with the utmost power that any man had ever managed. Adalynda held

Caliburn up and met the attack. There was a sound like a hammer
striking the anvil when the blades met and Mordred found the enormity

of his blade stopped on the spot.

Mordred’s eyes furrowed as he took in the sight. The woman

before him, while no doubt of an athletic and physical build was

essentially in stature and size to him what her slim blade was to his own

blade and yet his attack was not deflected, it was not parried… it was

stopped! “That’s impossible?” Mordred stated. His tone was only of

absolute disbelief.

“Caliburn and I are of Avalonian make Mordred of Mordred’s Rest,”

Adalynda scoffed at his befuddlement, supremely confident, “Did thee

truly believe, facing a Dragon, that thee would be the stronger warrior?”

An expression like that of dawning wonder, but of concern also,

overcame the imprisoned knight that answered enough her

question. Mordred tugged back his blade and swung it swiftly at her in

a right horizontal slash. She parried his blade and shouldered him

backward so quickly he barked a shout of annoyance. He took two steps

in retreat, likely to assess the threat further, but Adalynda Avalona

advanced both steps almost in time with his own. He barely got his

sword up in time to fend off her own horizontal strike. The blow rang

out true and he was jerked aside from her by the force of the blow. If
she had so wished, Adalynda could have ended the fight right there. She

had unlimited access to a dozen points of articulation in his armor where

she could have stabbed… it was only lucky for him that she needed him

alive… I shall take some enjoyment in his humiliation however, she

thought to herself with a smirk.

Instead of skewering him in the side, Adalynda sidestepped so as to

put herself behind him, and before he even finished the second step of

his stumble she kicked him in his rear which sent him sprawling out

forward. He landed flat on his chest and howled in pain1.

“Oh… pray thee forgive me,” Adalynda quipped and pressed her

free hand to her chest as though concerned, “I’d forgotten thee had yet

to… how do the ruff gentlemen phrase it? Stay thee in thine trousers

Sir?2”

Mordred roared, deeply enraged by her taunt. His back still turned,

he rose up first onto one knee, slammed his blade into the ground with

impressive strength3… for a human, and then utilized the weapon as

support to rise up off the ground. It was only as he reached his full

height that he finally turned back to face her, his features a true mask of

fury, incidentally his manhood had gone flaccid and looked lightly
1
You know cause… his thingy is still out…
2
I do so love modern slang in Ye Olde English
3
This is actually really bad for your swords… Don’t do it if you aren’t a hulking villain… there’ve been a lot of notes
on this page.
scraped. “I will show thee, Avalonian whore!” Mordred snarled and

finally took his sword hilt with both hands and ripped it free of the

ground as Arthur must have the false Excalibur from the stone.

Let me see the legendary’ power of Mordred the traitor, thought

Adalynda with no lack of excitement. Mordred charged, and as he did

his manhood rose up rock hard once more, so vaguely disconcerting

sight enough to raise Adalynda’s eyebrows… but she had precious little

time to wonder at so quick a turn because the man who came at her had

gone utterly berzerk! He sliced at her with twice the speed he had

produced before and she actually found herself losing ground to him!

She quickly backpedaled and was forced to deflect several

uncompromisingly powerful blows after feeling an uncomfortable sting

upon a direct block she did not wish to replicate.

The turn was truly surprising. Enraged as he was, any ordinary

man would be prone to mistakes and misjudgment, in that instant it

became clear to Adalynda why Mordred’s reputation as a feared

swordsman was justified. Though enraged, he was not without thought

or strategy. His blows rained not from one place alone, but in seemingly

erratic yet calculated patterns toward wherever Adalynda seemed most

open, and each strike was made with the most strength he could
produce. He required her full concentration to defend. What was more,

she realized she was rapidly running out of room to retreat. A table was

creeping up behind her with aims to be her dead end. If I am to be

trapped between the two as I am now, he shall make short work of

me. Something must be done immediately!

“T’is the matter bitch?” Mordred screamed at the top of his crazed

lungs, “No more taunts!? No more quips!?”

“NGGH!” Adalynda grunted when a particularly powerful vertical

strike forced her to block it directly and drove her down onto a knee. Ah,

she thought, I’ve not to many more of those in my limbs. The force of

him could shatter an oak!

“HA!” Mordred cried and he stabbed downward… but what seemed

like certain victory to him was actually to his foes benefit. Adalynda,

swift and agile, rolled forward passed his strike and completed the

maneuver back up onto her feet from off to his side. From there she

took a few full sprinting strides away before she spun back around and

took up a new guard stance, this time with her sword held out and away

from herself.

“I admit it,” she told him without jest, “Thou art skilled and

powerful.”
 “Then submit!” He turned to face her. She was idly dismayed to

see his member throbbing like mad at her complement.

“Skilled and powerful,” Adalynda tsked, disgusted that one so

renowned could be so blunt and vile, “but thou art not enough to defeat

me.”

“Bitch!” He cried out and charged once more, “Thee speak so to me

whilst running away!?”

“Only to change my stance,4” Adalynda replied, “afterall…” As he

approached she leaped toward him rising more than her full height into

the air. The sudden height difference caused Mordred to pause short of

his stride to assess her attack. As she flew through the air she spun a

complete circular spin and brought her blade down on him with

incredible force and velocity. The blow forced Mordred down onto his

knees. From there he kicked out at her legs but was stymied to discover

she was no longer there. Instead as soon as she had landed from the

first attack she had leapt again, this time doing a full summersault over

his head whilst twirling so that she landed facing his back where she

slammed her sword into his side with all the force she could

muster. His plate armor dented, he howled, spun, and his sword came

4
Stances are important to Adalynda’s combat style. When in the traditional Camelot Guard stance she traded
blows like a knight with a bastard sword, which only works because she has super strength. In the Avalonian
Sword Dancing stance however…
around with him. He seemed intent to do whatever it took to bisect her,

but yet again she was thinking five steps ahead of him. She ducked low

and swept his legs out from beneath him via a roundhouse kick. Once he

was fallen flat on his back she hopped lightly up onto his chest to tap the

tip of her sword at his chin, “afterall, thou had not yet seen me dance?”

The rage in him seemed to die. At last she thought she saw a

glimmer of fear in his eyes… yet still the burning desire of lust there

was also. No matter, she supposed, I’ve won the match regardless, he

must…

“Get her!” Mordred roared, cutting her off mid thought. Adalynda

recoiled as one startled. She had just enough presence of mind still to

leap off of him before he rolled away from her and then he crawled

madly toward the table while a half dozen imps rushed in to protect his

retreat.

“You… you coward!” Adaldina shouted. She was so incensed that

the first Imp that sprinted at her she decapitated without mercy. He

fled! She could just spot the man rushing up out of sight via a spiral

stairway. “Fiend! Cretin! Honorless pig!” She cried. The intense

boiling anger that burned in her chest was like fire. She felt robbed and

wronged. The upset of his turn from what was agreed upon clashed
with everything that a warrior was taught. As she leaped past the club

of another Imp’s puny attack she felt nothing but disgust that she had

considered him a great warrior despite his debauchery. That someone

as skilled with a blade as he could also be so craven was like glass to her

heart! “Run then!” She cried, her stormy clouded eyes crackled with

lightning that was soon erupting out down her free arm and then was

loosed at the nearest imp who exploded into a pool of blood and

gore. “Run away coward! For I shall find thee still!” The remaining

few imps chirped with fear and dismay at her ‘shocking’ display of

power.

Adalynda, after all, was a silver dragon. Her mother was red and

of the burning fire, short lived by draconic standards but devastatingly

powerful in magic and craftsmanship. Viviane was blue and of the

immortal ice, she would likely live forever and would grow ever more

powerful year by year. Adalynda’s power was of the skies and the

storm. Lightning and thunder were hers, still young she could not grasp

its full might, but as the power arcked around and through her, to the

terrified Imp’s eyes she appeared as some raging goddess of death… and

death is what she brought them5. She fried one with a near continuous

5
Ugh… sorry about the info dump… but really, you start a story essentially in the action you gotta fill in the stuff an
ordinary story would have told you already somehow amiright?
stream of the deadly storm, impaled another and would have gone ahead

and killed the final two when something peculiar happened. One of the

other Imps used his club to strike the skull of the other. After a moment

of puzzlement Adalynda recognized it as the Imp she’d spoken out for

earlier.

“Imp fight for kind lady,” it said to her and bowed, “Imp to serve

for her?”

Ordinarily this would have been enough to give her considerable

pause, but such was her wrath that she devised she did not have the

time to analyze it, perhaps detrimentally so. “Then remain here and

await my return,” she barked at it, gritted her teeth, tightened her grip

on Caliburn and stalked toward the stairway, electric arcs still spiraling

about her. I am coming for thee Mordred, to separate thy secrets from

thy lips and then thy head from thy cowardly neck!

“Oh Mordred!” Adalynda called out loudly as she approached the

spiral stairway, “Come out come ou…” She just heard the sound of

sprinting steps moving downward instants before she saw Mordred

running downward toward her. He cradled something in his arms that

at first didn’t make sense. A bucket?

 “Have thee a bath!” Mordred shouted and thrust his bucket out at

her. Adalynda’s blood ran cold at the sight. Her fury evaporated in an

instant. Her heart seized in terror and anguish as she realized how

terribly she had been cheated. The bucket was filled only with water…

swift and powerful though she was, she was not fast enough to evade

her looming doom.

Avalon protect me!

 Dragon’s Plight

H WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” The famed Dragon Knight of Avalon cried

out, dismayed, as the contents of the cowardly knights bucket overcame

her. On contact with the water her skin prickled as though stuck by a

thousand pins, and her powers deserted her.

The storm that was once hers and coursed through her now

coursed into her. “Uh-hu-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-huh!” she moaned with the

current which caused her also to spasm and shake violently where she

stood stiff but for the shaking. At long last she collapsed sideways

where she struck the stonework floor and rolled over onto her

back. Light! Oh light water! He doused me with water while I was

using my power! I am finished!

“Well well well,” Mordred stalked around her from his place near

the stairway until he stood near her side, “How does that feel oh mighty

dragon?”

“Unghh… ungh-ngh-ngh o-oh-oh-oh-oh-owww…” Adalynda

whimpered and moaned. She hugged at herself with her arms in hopes

to stop the pain but that only provided the current other means to spiral
inward and attack her. “Nooooohhhh ohhh th-th-thee ch-ch-cheat-t-

ted!”

“Aye…” Mordred grinned his leering grin, “I cheated.”

The current seemed to slow overtime yet as she writhed, she

treated Mordred to the sight of her trembling form. The violent spasms

began to slow, the sparks and shocks lessened, all the while she gasped

and bleated a cacophony of sounds which served to further arouse her

foe, “Oh… nghh...mmmmno… ungh... uhuhuh... UHHHHHHH!” Finally

there came an overwhelming shock that set her back arcing high off the

ground. Light! Oh Light I cannot stand it! Surely she was dying the pain

was so great?

The shock passed and at last, the current seemed to desert her… yet

it seemed to take along with it the entirety of her strength and

vigor. “Ohhhhhhh…” Adalynda sighed in mixed relief and weariness.

She finally relaxed where she lay. Avalon preserve me… I feel… empty.

“All done?” Mordred asked curiously. His gaze trained on her as

one would a dangerous lion they had speared on a hunt but were still

unsure was harmless.

“Bas… tard…” Adalynda whispered softly. Her lead lolled off to her

side, the Imp who had announced loyalty to her earlier came into her
vision. It was shaking where it was hugging tightly to a table leg. Help

me… she pleaded to it with her eyes. With all the strength left that she

could muster she held a straining arm out toward it. She held it for as

long as she could, a few measly seconds before her arm flopped back to

the stonework. The imp buried its forehead into the table and stared to

the ground. No, it seemed to say to her, it could do nothing for her if she

could not do for herself.

“Wench!” Mordred called, raised a boot back, and kicked out at her

unprotected crotch, “Pay attention to ME!”

“NOHHHHH!” Adalynda screamed when the pain pierced her. Her

armor, even double layered, was of Avalon make, it was strong and near

unbreakable, but it was tight fitted and flexible. She felt the full impact.

It spread up from the strike through her womb and she found some

strength left in her still to cup her throbbing maidenhood with her

hands. She rolled onto her side and whimpered, “Thee bastard! To

strike a woman so… mmmmnnghh… Have thee no honor!”

“Honor?” Mordred spat out the word distastefully. He knelt down

and slipped his arms underneath her, then lifted her up, cradling her in

his arms. So held she could still rub at her injury but though she
writhed and tried to shy away from him she realized she was too weak

to do much else. “chivalry perhaps?”

“Forsooth!” She accused, “Chivalry thee find! T’was a duel on thy

honor! How could thee behave so unjustly!?”

“Chivalry is weakness,” Mordred began walking to his throne,

“thy duty, honor and goodness?” He snorted once again, “thy virtues

makes thee only more vulnerable to one such as I.” When he reached the

throne he set her down upon it with strange care. He laid her back down

gently so as not to shake her too terribly and that she would not slide off

to either side, her silvery tresses curled up around her neck where her

head leaned back into the headrest. He took care that she was seated

properly, he moved her arms up onto the armrests, and finally he

nudged her legs away so that they were as far apart and to either side

of the throne as they could be, seated as she was, and there he stood

before her. Were any stranger to find them they might think she and not

he were in command of the situation were it not for his excitedly jutting

manhood which he at last took hold of once more.

“No… please do not…” Adalynda raised a plaintive hand out toward

him, which he caught hold of with his free hand and placed back down

on the armrest. So exhausted and weakened was Adalynda, that she did
not rise her arm up again. She felt a tear of fright leaking down the

outside of her cheek.

“I am, URNGHH, a man of my word… when I win,” Mordred

informed her while he began to work at his genitals. She was all he had

eyes for anylonger, she could see his gaze all but drinking the vision of

her defeated, powerless form from his position of complete power. He

truly loomed over her. “Morgana knew thine precious Queen’s bane for

the same reason that I knew how to conquer thee.”

Adalynda felt her heart clench once more. It was difficult to think

through the fog of weariness, difficult just to remain conscious in her

weakened state, and still added to this was the fear of what Mordred

intended now to do with her… but there was still some room left for

surprise. He knew! She realized, He knew exactly how to defeat

me! Oh light… and Lynet as well… what else do they know about

us? She marshaled all the willpower she had to beat back her fear and

asked him, “H-how?”

“We are watching thee,” he told her, “unghhh… we are listening to

thee. Ungh!” His hand began to pump harder and faster, “We know

because we overheard thee. Ye told us thine own perils!” He started

laughing.
 The horror of those words was almost too much for Adalynda to

bare. That she could have brought this defeat unto herself was

humiliating enough, but if she had any part in Lynet’s defeat as

well? Light… do they know more? Do they know how to defeat my

mother... or Lady Viviane?

“By the mother. Thou art a vision,” Mordred huffed and seemed to

lose interest in talking to her, “I bested thee! I conquered thee!” He

grunted a final long groan and his seed he at last let fly.

“UH!” Adalynda whimpered. She knew not at first if she might

even stand the liquid after what she had just endured at the splash of the

water yet… at the least there was no renewed pain. Instead she could

only endure as an enormously thick glob of his seed splattered upon the

shining silvery mail across her breasts, this cannot be… she lamented as

another load more voluminous than before sprang from his sword and

splashed over her abdomen. T’is so humiliating…. “I pray thee Sir…

stop… please…” Yet the Sword Dancer reduced to begging only seemed to

reinvigorate Mordred whose softening member regained its hardness

and spat streams of his conquest all upon her. Soon her silver clad

form was speckled by dozens of Mordred’s loads.

 “Almost there…” Mordred said and pumped at his junk some

more.

Adalynda gasped with fright to see the man’s weapon, which had been

softening again, immediately jut forward, stiff and hard once more.

“Thou art inhuman!” she lamented, aghast, “No man could have such

seed and stamina!”

“T’is been… a long… ngh…. WHILE!” Mordred had just enough time to

grunt out between clenched teeth before he came once again.

“NO-oh!” Adalynda mewled when the first of that round of hot

fluid was flung toward her face. She only just turned her head away in

time that it blasted along her cheek. I… I cannot allow this! She thought,

incensed, to herself. Even as Mordred continued to dot her shining

frame with his victory she found some pool of bravery still within

herself. I. must punish such foul deeds! If no… how may I yet claim to

be champion to the light? Adalynda clenched her fists and summoned

forth all that remained of her fortitude. She gritted her teeth and tried to

rise up from the throne. She managed to push her seat a few inches

upward before her arms began to shake with the strain… Oh light, I-I’m

so weak… I… I must… I have to… I...I… Can’t!

 Alas the fair warrior was too exhausted. “Uhhhhh….” she moaned

as she fell back into the position that Mordred had set her in. The

fortitude she had summoned seemed to desert her and leave even

heavier a burden of despondency and weariness for ever having

risen. Never before had she been so bested, never had she felt so

powerless and weak. I… really am beaten… the dragon realized. The

admission caused her to feel hot, she thought she might be burning with

shame but… for though she might still survive this, she would never

again be the untamed, undefeated champion of the sword, nor paragon

of virtue in Avalon, I should have been… more cautious.

Her attention was returned fully to the man looming over her, he

grunted one last time and shot a final wad of his spunk which he

deliberately aimed at the gentle mound between her legs, then wiped his

nose with the back of his hand and stepped back to observe the cum

speckled warrior.

“That’s better,” Mordred seemed to sigh in relief. He licked his

lips and continued to observe her, his eyes lingered around her

nethers. Do not look at me so pig! She tried to close her legs once more

at the least, to protect what little dignity she had left, but she could

not. Mordred must have seen her pointless strain as well because he
sniggered, “Curious… How does it feel to have been so powerful, and to

now be so impotent?”

She did not respond though his words made her feel warmer, and

warmer still. This is it… she knew, he can do anything his black heart

desires of me and there’s nothing I can do to stop him! This thought

should have filled her with ever greater terror, instead it made her feel

hotter, sweat beaded at her forehead, her pale cheeks reddened, her

thighs twitched… she felt fear at the least that she did not feel so

frightened as she believed she ought to. What will happen to me

now? What will he do? Oh light, I’m helpless!

“On to business,” Mordred leaned forward again and roughly

grabbed her by the upper arms.

“NO! Take thy hands off me!” she cried, but could otherwise do

very little as he threw her across the throne so that her belly rested on

one of the armrests. “STOP!” she cried. In response he tossed her cape

away and began running his hand up and down along the smooth

scalemale that covered her bottom and the leather wrappings of the

underlying bodysuit that protected her thighs. Though strong and sturdy,

her armor was Avalonian, and utterly flexible, she could feel the

movements of his fingers like ghosts across the flesh beneath, the silky,
soft material that separated her skin from the actual armor of her gear

gently tickled. ”Hah!” she squeaked, “St-Stoop!”

“Interesting,” Mordred noted before he pulled the scale leotard,

which stretched freely6, away from her and found the bodysuit beneath

had an opening between the thighs where there was no material. What

does he think he is doing! He was able to freely loop a finger around

the crotch of a pair of silky light blue lower undergarments and with a

mighty tug he ripped her panties away from her.

Adalynda cried out in pain as the bastion of her modesty did not

wish to come over freely, yet a loud tear echoed throughout the hall and

Mordred held the blue material in his hand. She then watched in horror

as he lowered it toward his own crotch.

“Have thee no modesty!” She cried, mortally offended while he

used her panties to wipe up the remainder of seed which clung to his

manhood. Tears at last sprang to the dragon’s eyes, reduced to such a

state she plead to him once more, “Please… thou hast bested me

dishonorably! I beg thee spare what honor thee still have and release

me! I… I will go and thee will not be bothered for it!” She spoke truly,

she could hardly imagine how she would ever tell anyone, ever, what

had just happened to her, much less to face Mordred again in combat.
6
Adalinda’s armor, outside the actual metal which isn’t plate anyway, is tight like spandex cloth
 “Silence wench!” Mordred reached out and slapped her. The

impact left her reeling, though not for the pain. Mordred stepped away

and traveled over to the Imp whom she had earlier protected. He held the

sticky blue cloth out at it and said, “Take this to the Ferrier when he

comes for trade, offer him an entire week supply of our rations to have

this sent to Queen Lynet of Camelot.”

Revelation dawned on Adalynda, I am to be used as… as bait! It

never entered into her thoughts for an instant that Lynet would not come

for her. The Lady of Light would rush headlong to her own doom to

rescue an innocent; Adalynda knew it to be so. She at last broke into

sobs. The imp bowed its head, took the item and shuffled away with a

sad gait to its step, Mordred laughed and kicked it in the back just to

watch it sprawl foreword, though he let it be to get back to its feet and

continue its task.

Mordred returned to his prize. He took the fullness of the Sword

Dancer’s gently shivering body, he drank in the thought of the sword

maiden Adalinda Avalona so utterly in his power and smiled a smile that

was utterly terrifying for how it contained no malice at all. In that smile

was absolute self enjoyment and fulfillment, worse still his sword,

which had been used three times already to besmirch her, began to
harden again, No! Adalinda gapped up at him, shuddering in terrible

tremmoring fear, How… how can he still be…

“Now if you please Milady,” he said to her as her, “Let us get to the

bedchamber?”