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[A story based on a picture I commissioned from Omega, AKA Faithry, posted to my FA and Yiffstar galleries. Porn follows! Copyright me, all rights reserved, et cetera.]

1. Just Deserts

Setta let out a grunt, her thoughts returning to the present, away from that strangely vivid dream she had last night, unsure of why it had suddenly crossed her mind. It didn't help her current situation much to think back on dreams... not that much of anything was going to help her current situation much.

The dragoness stood naked atop the wooden stage in the blazing desert sun; her fiery nature meant that the heat was a pleasant compensation for the nudity, though whimpers from other places behind her told her that she was far from the only one in such a predicament. A rectangular wooden frame was set behind her, like a stout but empty doorframe held in place atop the stage.

Her elbows and ankles were bound each with strong leather straps to the sides of the frame, holding them wide; cuffs on her wrists latched to the back of the heavy metal collar locked around her neck, keeping her shoulders pulled back and her hands safely out of trouble's way. With the bindings in place, she couldn't pull her legs together, either, nor try to crouch down to get her legs more room to flex and take what tiny action she might to cover herself. A cuff on the end of her tail, tightly pinching down, held it latched as well to the back of her collar, drawing it firmly up to expose her rear. Another leather strap wrapped around her jaws, keeping them tightly clamped shut.

The curtain was pulled shut in front of her face; to her right and in the center of the stage was a tall simple pole with cuffs at several places along its height and at the top. She, then, was to be the main attraction, showed off first, and taking bids between every other slave sold, to be sent off herself at the very end of the show. She growled again, gritting her teeth, thinking furiously of how she had come to such an ignominious position...

... A simple enough story, really, your basic tale of a treacherous merchant and a dragoness in need of passage and with a willingness to do guard work for it. She'd found herself in the desert town of Suwan, low on cash and unpleasantly alone. A caravan was soon to depart, though, bearing rare spices for more fruitful lands much closer to where she wanted to be. She hired on easily enough; whatever other skills they might learn, dragons are rarely ill-suited to martial endeavors, or at least putting up a large signal that prospective attackers stood to face tough scale, sharp claws, and fiery breath in addition to the usual lot of defenses.

The first two weeks went sedately enough; ride a wagon, walk alongside, every now and then take a quick flight upward to look around the undulating sands for potential attackers or better paths. Staying in the air regularly would have been easy with the many updrafts from the hot sands, but the winds were unpredictable and brief but intense sandstorms all too capable of emerging in the wink of an eye; better to stay down, where the caravan could provide cover against the scouring sand and anchor her to the ground.

On the sixteenth day, though, she had gone into the merchant's tent in the evening when he called for her; he had done so every few days to take her formal report, though there was little enough to say. This time, though, he had tried to first entice, then order, then force her into his bed, where lewd toys, straps, rings, and buckles awaited. She had rebuffed the first and refused the second, but when he threw himself at her, she was forced to fend him off... at which point he began to howl for his guards. She was forced to run from the tent and take to the air, fleeing from the caravan before the merchant could have his guards overwhelm her and sell her for a slave.

From the air, in the dim light, she could see an oasis about two day's foot-travel ahead, the caravan's target; she knew she could fly faster than the caravan could travel, and so she could easily enough reach the oasis and prepare an ambush, to at least claim enough supplies from her erstwhile employer to perhaps finish the crossing on her own. Protection from the heat was hardly necessary, but something for warmth on the cold nights and food would be vital, and even for one of her fiery affinities *some* water would be important.

She was not a desert-dweller by inclination, however, and so never stopped to consider that the caravan would hardly be the only ones using the oasis... or that she might have been set up from the beginning. She had hardly landed at the water-hole when a half-dozen bandits fell on her, and she was held, stripped, and bound in minutes. That the whole thing was planned became utterly clear two days later, when the caravan owner arrived and asked the bandit leader if his 'offering' was sufficient... then agreed to buy the 'new slave' and convey her to another meeting point and send her off with a slave-train! She spent the next three weeks bound in a cage before a third oasis saw her transferred into a slave-caravan heading south instead of her original intentions of westward travel.

Upon arriving at the city of Al'Ayan, the slavers sold their entire 'cargo' to the local slave-market, the dragoness along with them. The owner and auctioneer, a pristine white swan by the name of Faithry, took charge of them all and had her servants separate them into cells, to be given water and food and exercise for a few days to restore them a bit before sale after their deprivations on the journey. She ate and drank as the others did, from a bowl thrust into her cell; she was no less hungry or thirsty, and refusing would gain her nothing.

The exercise was humiliating, but inescapable; in a room with a a curious circular metalwork grid built into the ceiling, she was brought with nine other slaves. A noose was put around her neck and painfully pinching clips on her nipples; chains from her nipples and the rope of the noose were passed up around the edge of that overhead metal grid and latched onto an arm of what resembled a chandelier... and other slaves began to turn the chandelier. Still with her arms bound behind her back, she was forced to walk steadily along or face painful yanks on her nipples and compression of her airways if she fought. Some tried anyhow; one of the three who held out to the extent that they passed out was simply left there, an unpleasant and very graphic display to the others that they could be killed if they resisted. The other two who fought were taken away... and when a few hours later they were brought back to their cells, both were whimpering quietly, trembling in fear, and offered no resistance when the guards vigorously and openly raped them both in view of all the others.

Auction day arrived, and the hefty guards had escorted slaves to the stage, two guards per slave at a time. Most were bound into cages behind the stage, to be pulled out, brushed down rapidly, and bound to the center pole when their turn came, but not her. She was taken to the frame and bound for display there... and the swan came out to personally tend to her decoration.

Faithry clearly knew precisely what she had on her hands. She knew that Setta's lovely red-hued iridescent scales were valuable - and removeable, stripping them from her like snakeskin and leaving her in soft, warm red skin alone. A few days of sun would soon enough have that tender skin hardened to new scale and new skin forming beneath, but for today, she was soft and exposed. The claws on her fingers and toes were trimmed down and dulled, leaving pointy nubs a far cry from the sharp talons she had before. Setta hissed furiously as the swan brought forth a needle and heated it with a brazier to red-hot, then plunged it through her nipples - but the heat soothed the pain in seconds and induced her thermophiliac body to heal around it, leaving her in less than a minute with two well-sealed nipple-piercings, through which silver rings were quickly inserted, accentuating her ample busom.

The worst, though, was easily the furstyling. Setta's type of dragons naturally lacked fur entirely, scaly from head to toe, with only the spikes from forehead down the back to tailtip to even remotely imitate hair. A fashion had passed through for a little while of hiring a magician or using a potion to produce a distinctive patch of fur, though... and so Setta had a white snowflake of soft fine fur at her crotch, below the line of her hips but above her clitoris, where none but a lover might see it. Until now, anyhow.

The swan had been damnably well aware of what else that little bit of body modification could do. Being so naturally hairless, draconic nerves didn't know what to do with the sensation of having that hair manipulated, and every dragon responded differently. Some quickly had it reversed, finding any contact with their new fur painful; some became maddeningly ticklish; some found it simply a slippery sensation... and some found it intensely erotic. Faithry needed only a few seconds of contact to discover that, as stroking that little white patch soon made the dragoness shudder... relax... and begin to purr, mind going vacant as pleasant fluffy white clouds filled her mind. Her cheeks burned when the swan stopped, smirking into her face in clear awareness of what her plan would do.

A small pair of scissors occupied Setta's world for nearly half an hour; small patient snips clipped away a little bit of white fur at a time, and her back arched and she strained against the impossible pleasure that rocketed through her each time. She came, brought off by nothing more than that delicate little tug at her loins of the scissors trimming fur, and felt her honey trailing down her thighs and the swan giving her not an instant of respite. Finally, finally, with one hand on the back of Setta's head and one pushing against her rump, the swan made the dragoness look down and regard the new downy-white swan-head gracing her loins, carved from the white snowflake from before.

The swan smirked into her face and retrieved a small crystal bottle. She dipped a brush down into it, then began carefully stroking the brush against Setta's crotch, around that new-formed swanhead decoration. Setta's head jerked back and she hissed into her clamped mouth as the stuff seemed to sink into her skin, stinging viciously as it did! She quickly lost track of time as the sting built and built, the swan refusing to relent in her work at all... but eventually a hand on the back of her head and another at her rump made her look down again. A bright blue diamond encased the swan-head now, standing out vividly against her warm red skin.

"It'll take a very talented, very expensive alchemist to make the potion to undo *that*," said Faithry with smug satisfaction. "Neither scale nor hair will grow there, so get used to your slave-mark, dragon. It'll be with you for a good long time. Very distinctive, too. Usually I just put it on the buttocks or breasts, but since you were so generous as to have prepared something ahead of time..." She laughed, and headed off to dress for her own part in the day's work.

And that brought Setta back to where she was. Naked, bound, muzzled, shaved, marked, and for sale. The curtain rose, and the swan stepped out next to her. The auction began... in a completely foreign language; the dragoness could make heads nor tails of any of it. Faithry was clearly extolling her virtues, though; a hand flicked her new nipplering, then caressed her taut belly, slapped her firm rump sharply under lifted tail, then cupped her crotch and spread her folds. An incomprehensible call came from the audience, and Faithry laughed, and swung a riding crop against Setta's backside... and the first slave was brought out.

The auction proceeded the rest of the morning; a slave came out, Faithry exhorted the crowd to bid higher... and when the final sale was made, it was announced not by the bang of a gavel, but by the snap of that crop against Setta's bare and exposed ass! When catcalls from the crowd pointed out that the dragoness was clearly responding with embarassment and arousal to the blows against her bottom, the rules changed - and for each ten coins a slave went for, another strike landed on Setta's rump. Her face burned hot and pink as her rear was left with hot, tingling lines that made her crotch ache sweetly and clench against itself in front of the prospective buyers, the side-merchants selling refreshments, and the gawkers come to look at the pretty naked slaves.

The sun rose high and the swan called something out; a sound of disappointment came from the crowd, but the curtain closed... behind Setta. Faithry winked showily and called something else out, and guards came to flank the ends of the stage, while some of the crowd came to line up there. The swan chuckled in Setta's face, patting her bare breast. "Two hour break while the sun is at its peak. Participants are allowed to come inspect the 'sample merchandise.' Do try to enjoy yourself." Setta's cheeks blazed a hot and angry red as she growled back, and the swan laughed and slipped behind the curtain to take her own rest.

They swiftly discovered the secret of her styled muff, and for two hours Setta squirmed at teases under her tail, writhed at tongues between her legs, purred for them when they petted her, grunted and growled when they pinched and jabbed at tender spots, and even came for them when one stepped behind her, reached his arm around her hips, and insistently caressed at her cleft until her body responded with a surge of pleasure. All throughout humiliation gnawed at her, keeping her cheeks alight with blushing red, knowing that what was making it all so much worse... was how excited she was finding herself, how her very helplessness was making her respond...

... though when she found out that evening that the swan intended to keep her for an 'exhibition piece' until a certain valued client of hers returned, expected in another four years or so, the prospect nonetheless somehow failed to delight her.