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

Picture: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2774870/

Also posted to FA at http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3963548/

]

1. Shocking!

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 lay on her back atop an uncomfortable metal table, forelegs bound pulled straight out to the sides and cuffed in place, hindlegs pulled spread wide and likewise bound in place. Straps bound her wings furled tightly against her back, pinned underneath her by her own weight. Strong leather straps wrapped around her muzzle, keeping her jaws forced shut, almost biting her extended tongue, which had an electrical lead clipped onto it. More electrodes were clipped to her nostrils and lips, keeping her barely able to grunt even when they weren't jolting her with current. Her exposed and defenseless crotch was stuffed achingly wide by an oversized dildo, just a fat cylinder with more electrodes studding its surface, not even shaped like a proper dragon's penis. A matching, though smaller toy kept her poor tight anus strained gaping wide, and more currents ran at unpredictable intervals through it to make her clench down painfully hard. The tip of her tail was clipped down low on the side of the table, keeping her unable to pull it up and disrupt any of the devices filling her privates.

The laboratory around her was clinically austere, with metal floor and walls testifying to its capacity to contain even an unbound dragon, let alone one trapped in place as she was. One large window was constantly open to a hallway through which she frequently saw scientists, workers, other captives, and even visitors, most of them pausing to look in and watch her humiliation and torment. A pair of computers with cheap office chairs controlled the electrodes and the other devices she was subjected to, gathered data from the sensors watching her and also included in the devices, and sometimes ran automated tests while the rest of the complex slept. Her swan captor reached in to mockingly pat her atop the head, and she knew another test was about to run. She whined pathetically into her muzzled mouth, "No! No! Not again! Please!" knowing it would be ignored as it always way, and she thought back to how she had come to such a trial...

... A simple enough story, really, your basic tale of a dragoness on a long flight and a scientist with more interest in the process of her studies than the results. She'd been taking a transoceanic flight, always a long and tiring but not excessive trip, when she'd spotted an island below she didn't recall seeing before. It wasn't so odd; compared to the ocean's size, an island is a fairly small thing, easy to not see, particularly with clouds or fog as so often occurred over the seas. This one looked like an excellent spot to stop and rest her wings a bit; she could see a fair bit of habitation on it for the most part and didn't want to go though the hassle of landing, dealing with people, assuring everyone she knew how to behave among the bipedal, and so on, but there was a nice cliffside that looked promising.

She circled lower, and to her pleasure there was a perfect cave opening halfway up, with a nice ledge out front for easy landings and a bit of an overhang higher up to keep the whole thing inaccessible without a long and dangerous climb for anyone not arriving by air. Best of all, she could see old claw scars on the rock, none fresh - she clearly wasn't the first dragon to spot the cave and take a rest! It was an easy landing, and when she stepped inside the cavern was simply perfect for a brief rest - small for permanent habitation, but excellent for an overnight stop, just one nice round cave with clawmarks on the walls to show how it had been enlarged and smoothed out. A shallow depression to one side made a wonderful spot to lay herself down in, even.

She was preparing to take a brief rest when her head snapped up, looking at the entrance. A swan stood there, and the dragoness grunted in annoyance. She hadn't thought they'd have anyone paying much attention, but if the island had avians, then of course they'd seen her. Now she'd have to go through all the tedious and time-consuming formalities she'd hoped to avoid. To her surprise, though, the swan simply said, "Welcome to my island. I'm Doctor Faithry. I believe it would be in both our interests if you were to agree to stay for a few weeks to participate in a few tests I'm preparing." Setta blinked at her, bemused for a moment, then laughed. "Weeks? For tests? You have nothing I could possibly want or need, and I'll be gone again in a few hours. Less if you insist on your claim over this cave you cannot possibly have any other use for; I know the rules about ownership and so on, and I'm not looking for a fight today, just a stretch and a nap." The swan simply smiled thinly. "Of course not," was all she said, and flew out. Setta stretched, closed her eyes, and promptly settled into a light nap.

She awakened briefly at the sound of rock grating on rock and a hissing sound, but already the gas was in the air and the entrance sealed to keep it in, and she was already drowsily closing her eyes again before she could muster the strength to stand.

When she woke up again, she was bound standing on all fours on some sort of large, heavy cart; her ankles were all clamped tightly in place and a thick metal ridge ran up under her belly and neck, keeping her pulled taut. Metal bars curved over her neck, keeping her head down flat, a thick tube of some sort in her mouth, two more in her nostrils, and thick leather straps wrapped around her muzzle to keep it pinned on the tube. Chains coming up over her shoulders were latched onto her tail, keeping it pulled sharply up over her back, with a metal curve clamped onto it to hold it in place. She grunted and struggled, of course, but the bonds were heavy enough to restrain even an extraordinarily large, strong dragon; she was more of a nimble firebreathing sort, not bulky and muscular. She couldn't move more than a claw, and those were pressed on solid steel, unable to so much as score it without being able to heat it first.

The swan was standing in front of her, wearing a labcoat now and distinctly smirking. "Apparently I *do* have something you want after all, that you could have had by agreeing." She patted the captive dragoness unconcernedly on the head, and all Setta's furious jerking didn't so much as make the cart creak. "Fortunately, I *have* dealt with enough dragons to know that a sufficiently brusque offer inevitably gets an automatic refusal. If you'd said 'yes' then I would have had to abide by the terms, a few weeks of amusement and then you'd be on your way. As you refused, however, I can enjoy you as long as I like." The swan stepped forward, vanishing from Setta's sight as she moved behind her bound form.

Setta let out a sharp grunt and jerked as hard as she could, but her draconic bulk simply wasn't enough to even jostle the cart, let alone break free. A sharp sting jabbed at her crotch, on the left side of her vent, making her strain to reflexively curl up and protect her vulnerable privates. She was unable to move anywhere near enough to respond, though - nor to react with more than a grunt and shudder to the second sting, this time in the other side. She felt the swan's fingers stroking at her crotch, and heard her voice. "Such as these nice little enhancements you'll have. If you'd cooperated, I'd have to take them off when I released you. I don't believe anyone else knows the trick of reversing draconic genito-nervous expansion, so you'll simply have to hope that when I tire of you... if I do... that I decide to be so generous as to do it out of the goodness of my heart. Let's go find your waiting area!"

The cart began to move, and Setta furiously grunted, the swan's hand never leaving her privates for long, delicately and with obvious experience caressing her, curling fingers along her vent and teasing daintily. They passed large windows in the hallway, each time the cart slowing to let Setta see what lay beyond.

The first window had two dragons on their backs on angled tables facing each other; one had a thick metal ring around the base of her erect penis, the other had a tube around his own phallus. Both had thick leather muzzles on their mouths, wings bound tightly to their backs, and both clearly had a fat sphere dangling from a cord that vanished beneath their tails. The one with merely the ring on his cock was bound in place, though, while the other was simply laying back on the table, shuddering and thrusting at the tube as it pumped at him. Faithry commented lightly, "He has to fill a jar a week, or both will be bound and denied release for a month, and then the other will be given the same task while he's kept bound and teased. They've been trading off for... goodness, three years now. One of them managed to fill three jars before he couldn't produce any more, once. Usually they're lucky to get two. They're my production baseline for what a lightly-modified male dragon can manage."

The next window had a single male dragon, unbound and with a pair of simply unbelievably oversized testicles swinging between his spread legs. He was hunched over a low bench with his visibly-throbbing member aimed at a rubber opening before it, but though his body trembled he held. A voice, audible through the window, said, "Twice," and he vehemently drove himself forward in two violent strokes, stabbing that pre-dribbling member into the artificial cleft twice before withdrawing. "Eighteen months. He needed to learn some self-control. He's almost ready to move on to proper milking now, though - he hasn't reached climax in two days, and with such enhanced production between his thighs he's simply desperate. He knows better than to try without permission, though." She tapped on the window and the dragon gave a whimper, looking up at her. "Who's a good boy," she cooed tauntingly at him, and he, to Setta's surprised, simply whimpered, "I'm a good boy, Mistress!" She laughed and moved the cart forward.

The third window made Setta try to turn her head away, but the bonds on her neck held it still. A dragoness with eggs was a viciously solitary creature, driving off even her own mate violently, or trying to relentlessly no matter how much stronger he might be than her, and the urge to privacy was enough to reduce even the most willful dragoness to instinctual hissing. Thus, the sight of a dragoness bound on all fours, head down, rump high, while two lab-coated figures held a padded box under her crotch and two more massaged her vent was... invasive. Faithry's chuckle only furthered the feeling of violation. "Four months. Not long enough, you think? I know very well how to accelerate processes like *that*. This is her third brood, and she had quite a few artificial eggs inserted to try with before that. She's provided me with an enormous amount of information on draconic breeding practices." The dragoness in the room let out a loud gasp as one of the scientists reached up with a small device the moment the egg was out and touched the little toy to her clitoris. A shudder wracked her and she gasped out, "Thank you sir, may I have another?" even as the next egg was sliding into her birth canal to be laid. Faithry chuckled. "She's going to be a good and eager layer soon. Onward!"

They kept moving past the fourth window, but not before Setta saw an anthro dragoness bound down over a low table - and heard her yowl of invasion and discomfort as the large, non-anthro gryphon behind her drove his enormous cock into her tight folds. The swan distinctly snickered. "You'll find out more about that one later."

The next window showed a non-anthro dragoness with thick rubber spheres on her paws and a wide rubber muzzle on her jaws, tail and neck clamped to the floor, laying on her back, desperately pawing at herself and watching something on the ceiling that wasn't visible from the hall window. After that was a window into a long hall of stalls, each one showing a male dragon with those oversized testicles, bound in a mounting position, tail held high, tubes sealed over their penises pumping. Every so often one would shudder hard and sag a bit, his chin touching a button that poured a grey substance down a tube into his throat. Some had pistons behind them driving a dong into a draconic rear end, and Faithry simply murmured, "Odd how the less voluntarily they accept that bit of training, the more voluminously it affects them."

The next showed four non-anthro dragonesses bound in mating position lined up next to each other, but with their heads free to move enough to look at each other. Metal struts surrounded the jaws of each, with visible motors - gags, apparently, that could be remotely opened to let them talk, currently closed. An unbound and very large, well-endowed male red dragon was inside, vigorously rutting one of the dragonesses. The swan's commentary was simply, "A bit more cerebral experiment, in some ways. Those five have provided reams of useful data on subliminally training dragons. They liked him well enough to start, but by now? Committed lesbians, all four of them, hating him to the tips of their claws, and he in turn can't think of anything more satisfying than raping them all, over and over and over again. By this time next month, they'll be a happy harem once again, cuddling each other lovingly and rolling over on command for him."

The next window showed a male dragon bound on his back, testicles swollen, though not as much as the milk-studs, gagged, with a female dragon bound in place between his hind legs, head free to move and ring-gagged. She was lapping vigorously at his cock while he whined at her, shaking his head in pleading, body shuddering with every lick. Faithry's amusement twirled through the air again. "She's had a little alteration to not only put her hormones into overdrive, but to induce a quite literal addiction to semen. Once each two weeks he's given a choice to fuck her if he wants rather than have her licking him. He hasn't taken the offer in nearly four months, but she can't bear to stop trying to get his taste in her mouth, despite how terribly badly her genitals demand satisfaction. He's quite lucky I enhanced him to prevent chafing, really, or he'd be *terribly* uncomfortable."

After that came a window showing a single male dragon, equipped only naturally, bound on his back with a thick ring around the base of his cock and a tube over it, firmly gagged and muzzled. He was limp, eyes almost closed, shuddering slightly every few seconds as white fluid flowed into the tube and an audible crackling filled the air. A prod was very distinctly lodged under his tail, slowly moving. "And this fellow... he declined my invitation just as you did. A bit over a year ago, now. I had such fun with him I thought I'd see if a female dragon can perform just as well."

The next window was open, and Setta's cart went smoothly inside. There was a sphere waiting there, covered in thick bumps, attached to the wall on a loose axle, allowing it to bounce around as it spun. She was backed right up to that sphere until it pressed to her crotch. Faithry adjusted it into position, then stepped out of the cell and smiled at her, waving. "The stimulation will help speed your own new sensitivity's development. See you in a week!" The sphere began to turn, slowly, rubbing those bumps against her crotch. Shift as she tried, Setta couldn't so much as pull herself an inch away.

At first it was simply slightly arousing, a pure physical response to soft rubbing on her crotch. The lights never changed, never dimmed or brightened, and the large window had a one-way mirror for a cover over it, preventing her from seeing anything but her own reflection but allowing anyone in the hall to see in. Still, even a mild stimulation never letting up had its effect; she wasn't certain how long it was, sure it had to have been hours, but when she felt tingles of nearness dancing in her loins it was only minutes more before she jerked and came. The sphere didn't stop as she sucked for breath through the air-tubes in her nostrils (bypassing her firethroat), but the light stimulation wasn't enough to keep her near that peak. It was even a pleasant gentle caress as she found herself in a warm, comfortable afterglow.

A few hours later, the scenario repeated itself again. And then again after that. And again after that. Each time, the span between peaks shrank, though denied any time-signals but her own mildly-acclerated heartbeat and breathing she couldn't tell.

On the morning of the third day she came twice before reaching afterglow. By evening she was up to four before her body stopped responding to the sensation with more climaxes.

On the fifth day they projected a clock on the wall of her cell, and though no voice explained anything, she quickly discovered that they were giving her a demonstration of control - all day long she came the time, once at 1 AM, twice at 2 AM, and so on - though mercifully on a 12-hour clock. She came as well once for each quarter-hour and three-quarter-hour and twice for each half-hour. By the end of the day she had given up trying to stop herself, having failed utterly at it all day long.

The seventh day was ruled by pleasure and exhaustion. Unable to do more than whimper and shudder all day long, she came, and came, and came, with no clue of how long between orgasms or how many times she came for each one but aware it was repeatedly. Seven days of constant pleasures had kept her awake throughout, and even a dragon's endurance can run out. The swan appeared and the ball, at long last, stopped. Setta's nostrils were flared weakly as she sucked in breath through the tubes, but her eyes followed the swan as Faithry stepped behind her. The mirror lowered over the window, and Setta saw that her captor was holding up a mirror - and the dragoness could see how her genitals were puffy and swollen, a deep pink, gleaming with her own honey. Faithry then held up a small metal object Setta recognized from her 'tour' on the way in. The little toy touched Setta's clitoris... and with tears of strain and climax slipping from her eyes she passed out in one final violent orgasm.

When she awoke, she was on her back, bound to the metal table she would stay on for months to come, denied any sort of privacy, even being impersonally cathetered or scrubbed out as the monitoring devices indicated a need, before she even felt it. Food was delivered through a tube into her mouth and down into her throat, ensuring she never even tasted it. And the experiments began.

The swan and her subordinates were casually open about their tests to her, noting more than once that her knowledge of exactly what was happening was part of the test. How the uncomfortably large simple cylinder in her pussy would stay until she described, in great detail, a draconic-phallus shape she would prefer, at least a half-inch wider and two inches longer, with 'acceptably placed' electrodes, clitoral stimulator, vibrating motors, and heating elements. How each week the toy in her rear was replaced by a slightly larger one, keeping it always uncomfortable and slowly stretching her out. How in time she would learn to crave providing the Mistress with useful data more than she would crave rest and relief from the orgasms.

The electrodes were unbearably efficient. With precisely targeted jolts to her body, the computers (and the assistants who programmed the computers, and the swan who commanded the assistants) gave her no rest at all. Time after time, when she thought she couldn't possibly produce another orgasm, electricity danced through her and she discovered she was wrong. The toy in her vagina never ceased vibrating or heating or even twisting in place, and the assistants were never shy about further teasing her with the toys, pumping her hard and deep and taunting her about how loose she was getting. They trained her to cum on the word 'perform' within a month. In three months she had learned to beg. In four months she had learned it was useless to beg. In five months she had learned to beg anyway...

... and in five years, leashed and obedient, she was proud to be such a good girl for the Mistress as to be chosen as a pet for a while, even though there was always more data to gather.