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The Dragon's Routine

By Limewah

Patron Reward for Sanmer

October 2022

18+

The felt-tipped stick tapped on the edge of the metal bowl, and the sound churned and chimed inside it.

GONG.

Jake couldn't see it - it was somewhere below him, away from his peripheral vision - but he could feel its vibrations wash over him. The bowl's resonance swirling around the dazed dragon's head... as well as his cock. Like a gentle hand coaxing his balls and shaft...

He came once again with a pained grunt. His orgasm was no less productive than the last few. Spurt after spurt of thick seed poured out in thick, ropey jets, his cock bright red and hard as a rock.

A dozen or so vibrating eggs were strapped to his shaft by long loops of leather, ensuring that it stayed completely engorged. Hands were sliding along him, cradling his balls and massaging them to ensure they kept churning and creating more seed.

It was his essential duty, his primary duty as the American Dragon.

"J...just another day..." he tried to quip. But his jaw was held shut by a thick strap around his snout. All he could do was It was the usual way of doing things. more content to simply go along with the flow.

This was what he did every day. The American Dragon's morning milking was just part of his routine. Part of what kept him in shape, alert, and ready to... fight crime?

No, to cum some more. To keep cumming.

Dragon Cum was in very high demand, after all. And he was a virile dragon, with balls that never seemed to run dry and a very high sex drive.

It was a good thing, too. Being milked was hard work. After his morning milking, he'd have his afternoon milking, then his evening milking. He was working around the clock.

At least it was easy work - all he had to do was dangle from the straps, remain still, and let the magicians' hands and the various sex toys they used do all the work for him. He could look at the pretty spinning disc, and its red and white spirals, and pour all his attention into its simple, but deceptively complex curvature. It gave him the same sense of awe and serenity that he got from a night sky, or an aurora. He smiled serenely into it - what else was there to do?

The straps were wound tightly around his four limbs, his ankles out behind him and his elbows bound together almost as though he was a begging dog. A collar around his neck was pulled taut, keeping his head level with the little whirling hypno-disc, and a belt was wrapped tightly around his toothy snout. Just to ensure he didn't accidentally breathe fire on the disc, but not so tightly bound that he couldn't drink the delicious, sweet potions they sometimes fed him to keep him hydrated and energised. His wings were similarly bound in the air, as was his tail - it had a tendency to wriggle and swing about when he was close to orgasm.

Just to make sure he didn't get flabby, those magical hands explored more than just his genitals. They rubbed his arms and legs, tickled and massaged his tail, their touch penetrating deep and making sure he stayed firm and healthy.

It was nice not having to do too much hard work. It was way better than...

...

... what did he used to do?

He didn't even remember. It didn't really feel important enough to remember any more, really.

It couldn't have been as good as looking at the nice spinny disc and cumming over and over, all day...

GONG.

The resonance made another orgasm tear through his body and empty another load. He heard, faintly, some frantic voices and scrabbling underneath him-

"You rang it too soon! Give us more time to change the bowls for fuck's sake!"

-but he ignored them. It was unimportant to him. He cared far more about staying to the task at hand, producing cum for his masters - no, for his work. There were no masters, just his duty as the American Dragon. He didn't even know who was telling him to do his job, or who set him up in the harness. It was unimportant, really.

A different sort of bell sounded, this one louder and harsher. It didn't make Jake wince or anything. He was used to it by this point.

The eggs were switched off, and the stimulating sensations of those hands ceased with them.

"Break time, finally," someone muttered below him, and he heard the shuffle of footsteps and grumbling small talk.

The disc still spun before him. And what a beautiful disc it was... even as it slowed to a crawl, the lines no longer blurring together, it was simply so nice to look at. When it slowed down, a state of calm and comfort fell over him, and his cock began to deflate - just a little. The loops keeping the toys wrapped around his member felt a little loose.

As the chattering grew distant and faded away, there was nothing but the gentle whirring spin of the disc.

As well as a clicking, grinding sound... it had blended in with all the other noises before, but now that he was noticing it, it didn't sound right...

The disc shuddered, abruptly coming to a halt. The mechanisms that kept it spinning must have jammed.

The smile faded from Jake's snout, turning into a rather crestfallen frown.

"Hnnn," he groaned sadly, feeling that giddy pleasure fade.

The spiral looked rather simplistic now that it was still, too. The shine had fallen away.

The straps were kind of uncomfortable too, now that he was noticing it, too. His weight was distributed a little awkwardly; his stomach was a little too low. He squirmed against the bonds. He tried to call for some assistance, but that strap round his snout kept him from doing so.

He growled, snorting out a little puff of flame and smoke from his nostrils, singing the wood of the spiral disc.

Where was everyone? Why were they leaving him like this? Could they at least adjust him a little when they got back?

He was sort of thirsty too, would they have more for him to drink?

...other questions crept in behind those surface level ones.

When was he going to go home? He felt like he was here, suspended in these bonds, basically all the time. He missed his bed, a little. Whatever it felt like. And his room, whatever it looked like.

How come he hadn't really spoken to anyone in a while? He wanted to get to know his co-workers... or... speak to his family.

His family...?

There was a grandfather, someone who taught him to use his draconic powers.

His best friends from high school, that he kept even in his adulthood.

A wrinkly, snarky dog.

A partner... someone he was thinking of proposing to. Someone he had a complicated history with, but... why?

A brain fog covered their faces and features, keeping him from properly seeing them.

It was like his inner consciousness was in the middle of a vast, swirling fog. The same colour as the spiral. In his mind's eye, he was free, and he was slowly, methodically beating back the fog to try and uncover what was hidden in it.

With it, other questions started to arise, questions that pulled him out of the stream of consciousness he'd been floating lazily in for so long.

How did he get here?

How long had he been doing this for?

Was this really what his purpose was...?

A clearer, more substantial series of images pulsated through Jake's mind.

He was wrapped in wreathes of magic that held him, spread eagled, unable to even move his head. Gritting his teeth tightly. Telling someone "no" and "you won't get away with this."

A confidently smug laugh.

The gonging sound of the singing bowls, overwhelming his hearing.

A swirling pattern of crimson magic.

An inability to turn his head, or even his eyes from the colours.

The little painted circle was a pale imitation of that original spell, but it had been enough to keep Jake's mind occupied.

Remembering what the spiral was supposed to represent made it obvious just how embarrassingly simple it actually was.

All right. Enough trying to remember.

Jake knew what he had to do; it was time for him to escape. Those straps snapped easily with one yank of his limbs, and same went for the straps around his wings. The only thing keeping him from doing it was a mental block.

He collapsed onto the stone floor a lot louder than he would have wanted to, grunting and scrabbling to his feet.

Glancing around the large warehouse chamber, he could hear the sounds of footsteps and rushing, as well as frantic shouts.

He saw a large window that would be trivial to burst through, above him. It'd be quick and easy to burst through it and escape.

Some parts of his personality were starting to return to him, along with his memories and will. He felt a little desire to make sure they get a glimpse at him escaping, so they could understand how they failed and lost him. It was a great chance to gloat.

His wings were a little shaky as it stood, so it took him a few precious seconds to get to the window. So ultimately, the choice was made for him. He saw his captors rushing in - all of them dressed in dark jumpsuits and goggles - and cracked a toothy smile.

"I'm stepping out for a break!" he called out, wishing that he'd had a better quip prepared.

As he turned to smash his body through the window, he heard a familiar sound.

GONG.

His limbs twisted in the air and he croaked out loud as an orgasm blasted through him. The ringing of the bowl continued, and with it, words that were soft as feathers brushing inside his ears.

Primal, ancient words that he did not understand, but he felt the meaning of.

He remembered what was important to him, the only things that mattered

The red fog descended over him once again, hiding the unimportant thoughts and memories away, and enfolding him like a blanket.

He fluttered slowly back to the ground and and landed on his hindlegs, his forelegs/arms swaying like limp noodles as he sleepwalked towards the nice men. The easy, happy smile returned to his face. He was happy to stand to attention and wait to be told what to look at.

The men moved around him, muttering and yelling at one another. He only listened insofar as to not miss out on any commands or triggers.

Or the lovely sound of the singing bowl -

GONG.

There it was again. Perfectly still, smiling sleepily, he poured himself into the receptacle that was placed in front of him. Those hands got back to work, rubbing over his balls and tail and taint. The eggs vibrating around his cock - he'd forgotten they were still on him.

While he didn't have a pretty spinny thing to look at, he stared at nothing at all, a quiet, happy statue with a thick, throbbing, productive shaft.

Soon, new straps were prepared, and the machinery of the hypnotic device was fixed. Jake was guided back into it. There was no strap for his mouth, for the moment, but his jaw simply hung open as he smiled and drooled.

He got in the harness, he looked at the disc, he listened to the singing bowl, and he thrusted and came for hours on end. The disc spun faster, even more prettily than before. The new straps were a lot softer and more comfortable, which made it easier for him to sway and sink and relax into his role.

He stared, perfectly docile, perfectly content as the thin red spirals whirled through his otherwise empty, vacant eyes.

He was right back where he was, back on his shift. It was good that he hadn't run away. He had a lot of milk to produce for his quota.

"Juss... another day..." Jake slurred. "At th'office, riiight..?"

His quip went ignored. And he forgot he said it a moment later.

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