With impossible delicacy she fastens the necklace on me. Her retreating claws intentionally trace the places on my neck where she licked me. The magic that still lingers there heats at her touch, bringing a thrill to my chest.
She cocks her head in that appraising way of hers and grins, flashing her razor sharp teeth.
I face the mirror to examine the jeweled collar that now rings my neck. The fine silver filigree and chains shine bright against glittering sapphires and opals. It is the finest thing I have ever worn, worth more than I have ever owned.
A rustle of fabric behind me makes me turn and my body betrays me by letting out a soft gasp.
She has produced a gown of shimmering silk that gleams with an opalescent sheen. It is just as fine and beautiful as anything else I have seen in her hoard.
My heart begins hammering in my chest as she settles back onto her haunches to watch me with that hungry expression of hers.
Almost unbidden, my hand reaches out to touch the smooth fabric of it. A familiar gnawing need starts up in the core of me. The heat of her magic flares in response and I jerk my hand away. Letting her place her jewels on me is one thing, but this…
Her eyes gleam knowingly.
“You want this,” she purrs. It's an observation, a suggestion, and a command all at once.
I stand there, frozen in indecision, torn between the comfort of the familiar and the thrill of the unknown.
“You are allowed to want things,” she says, rising to her feet and pacing around me. The scales of her snout brush my ear and her hot breath caresses me as she whispers, “you are allowed to have the things you want.”
I dare not move as she raises one of her talons to the collar of my shirt. She slices the fabric with barely any effort at all. Terror and arousal seize me. Despite the implicit threat of her claws and her teeth and her magic, I want this. I want to want this.
Scraps of my old life literally fall to the floor around me and I somehow find myself even more exposed and vulnerable than before.
For reasons I can't comprehend, she rumbles in appreciation at the sight of me.
Then she nudges me towards the gown and I stumble into motion. With shaking hands I pull the gown on. When my hands falter, attentive claws assist. She treats me and the down with the same delicate care that I've seen her handle her other treasures.
I have become part of her hoard, haven't I?
The thought does not distress me as much as I expect it to.
The closeness of her, every one of her breaths on my back, sets the magic she laid in my skin ablaze. I feel it seeping into my bones, wrapping itself around my soul. I don't know what it will do to me, but part of me is growing more and more eager to find out.
Finally, she gently turns me to face the mirror.
“You see,” she rumbles, “such a pretty little thing you are.”