There was a dragon living in the old forest marches, or so everyone said. Apparently, there had been more than one, or the Lords and Knights around who claimed Dragonslayernames were all lying bastards. Everyone agreed there was still at least one there, though - just as everyone agreed it vastly preferred young, screaming girls when it occasionally woke and needed food - the curvyer, the better. Virgins, was the traditional thought, though it had to be said that village boys offering reasons for village girls to get rid of some clothing and inhibitions had a vested interest in that rumor continuing. Other, whispered tales told of the Dragon having several hungers for human girls, including the need for release, now that it was the only one left. Some of those stories included the likely consequences of trying to insert a dragon cock as long as a grown man's leg and as thick as his thigh into a five feet tall teen girl, but most seemed to assume she would still be alive, screaming and wriggling when the dragon spunk shot her off his cock and into his open jaws...
Hey, everyone knew Dragons had some magic about them. It could happen!
Anyway, while everyone knew there were several creatures and animals in the forest and marches perfectly capable of taking both livestock and girls, usually it was the Dragon that shouldered the blame, unless the tale-teller found the need for some variety. Monsters lusted for human flesh and pretty girls to rut with, and every one of them had tales perfectly suited to send chills up the spine of listeners imagining rivals and annoying sisters being slowly roasted alive by goblins, swallowed whole by Mawfish, stuck on the tip of a Fellfrog's tongue and being dragged screaming towards a slow, sticky doom in its belly or being pounded by an ogre, but none of them held that magical appeal of the Dragon.
Of course, Mawfish and Fellfrogs probably didn't care at all if they swallowed a screaming girl or a cursing boy, Goblins found roasted penis to be quite the delicacy, ad most Ogres were probably too dim-witted to realize it squealing fucktoy only had one hole and no bouncing breasts, but somehow, these things were rarely spoken about. Every time a boy disappeared, it was assumed he had run off to the big cities... and every girl, no matter how many had seen her get into the wagon of the passing nobleman, had been dragged of screaming to be fucked and eaten in the campfire stories.
Some of the villages - those living closest to the marches, mostly - knew better. To the others, the forests and marches were sources of stories of heroes to be told in the light of day and sources of dark stories to scare each other with - or scare girls into your beds with in hte dark of the night, or maybe just to fondly imagine whoever pissed you off recently going into, never to emerge... and who knew how many boys (and more than a few girls) who had climaxed at their own hands under their sleeping skins with thoughts of the local village beauty going screaming into a maw or being skewered by some monster cock on their minds? To the match villages, though, the monsters were a fact of life - dangers to keep barred away, to be fought against, and occasionally to be placated by a terrified, screaming teen girl left out chained to something. It didn't pay to steal boyfriends from the headman's daughter in these villages... or for her to think you did. Of course, more than one headman's daughter had found herself suddenly chained to that rock by themselves, if the village caught on. Mostly, though, there were always some travellers, adventurers or lost shepardesses available for the forest inhabitants to slake their hungers with.
In fact, one such was coming right now, with noises indicating there were more to follow. An intruder swathed in chain - chain which can't hide the feminine swellings beneath, mounted on a horse of some kind - it's hard to tell while she's silhouetted. A female knight? Someone here to win glory and honor?
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