FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Though few in number, the warlocks of old had held sway over the world for hundreds of years--and some historians claimed it had been a thousand years, or more. At first their powerful magic had been used to rule directly, conquering lands and peoples and crushing all opposition, but as time had passed the populations of the earth had grown too large for them to control. Most scholars marked the end of their rule at the sixteenth century, while others said they had continued to control the nations of men for another one or two hundred years, working behind the scenes to influence the wealthy and the ruling classes to ensure history unfolded in ways that favored them. A brave few went so far as to write of intimidation rather than advice and bribes... and of the powerful men who refused to listen--and even the strongest and most unruly of dragonkind!--simply disappearing without a trace. One historian wrote briefly, in passing, of whispers of hidden dungeons where those who too openly opposed the influence of the warlocks had been locked away, never to be seen again...

The thought of such a prison made Hueroc shiver. It was easy enough to put himself into the mindset of a dragon somewhere in his ancestry, strong and proud and too defiant to listen to any human, not even one with magic at its disposal! To be so strong--but to be defeated, dragged off somewhere secret, and secure, and locked away for the rest of his days... It was a concept that seemed so terrible, and yet so thrilling! To be imprisoned and know that despite all his power and will, freedom would never come...

He had never expected to find one of these ancient, secret dungeons, but the thought, the fantasy of being so hopelessly trapped found a home somewhere in the back of his mind.

Then one day he found the doors, and in that moment recalled the passing rumor of the prisons as if he'd just read of them yesterday. He'd stumbled across them by accident, stubbornly following the trail of the day's hunt as it led down a gully and into a deep, narrow gorge. The ground was rocky and steep, treacherous to walk on, and the walls of the ravine were too narrow for him to spread his wings and fly, or even glide, over the more difficult sections. But a dragon would not let prey get away from him! So he pressed on, stepping carefully as he made his way down and breaking into a trot when the ground began to even out, following the scent of his meal, his mouth watering in anticipation, and he bared his teeth when he saw an overhang up ahead--surely a place where a scared little animal would hide from its winged predator.

The scent-trail led on rather than turning beneath the overhang, but what he did find there made him skid to a stop, just staring into the shadows for a few long moments.

A doorway.

But why here? Why so remote, and so hidden, and so hard to get to? The doors were large enough for a dragon to pass through without having to crouch or even tuck his wings too tight, and just looking at them made his tail twitch in unease. Surely he would know if there were humans trespassing on his territory and making the trek to these doors, yet he saw no tracks, and could pick out no human scent... It must be some abandoned, forgotten ruin, he thought; but despite the obvious age of the place, the timbers were whole, and stout, with no signs of rot, and the black-painted iron that reinforced them bore no rust. He sniffed again, carefully, and extended his snout to examine them further, taking in the scents of the materials, peering at the thick wood and metal... The doors looked as if they had been put into place just yesterday, but he knew deep down they were surely much, much older than that.

"Anybody home?" he said under his breath, and pushed on one of the doors with his nose; it swung inward with only the softest of squeaks issuing from its hinges. A passageway loomed on the other side, hewn from the rock and dim but not dark: there was a faint light coming from somewhere inside.

The warlocks did this, he thought, knowing nothing but magic could create--or maintain--such a place. Even with them gone, their power may remain, a part of him cautioned, but his curiosity and his bravery won out. I'll just take a quick look around, he said to himself, shouldering through the doors and setting off down the passage. Besides, no dragon would be afraid of an empty tunnel!

But even one as brave as he twitched and turned wide-eyed back the way he came when the doors swung shut behind him. I'm trapped! cried a part of his mind, but when he approached the doors he saw a ring even his clumsy paws could grasp, and when pulled upon the doors swung open just as effortlessly as before to let him back to the ravine outside.

This place is dangerous, said the most cautious part of him. Get out!

There was no harm in exploring, though... Was there? And if there was danger after all, well, he was plenty capable in a fight.

So he put the doors behind him and continued down the tunnel.

His steps echoed off the rock around him, mingling with the softer noises of his breathing and the slow dripping of water from somewhere ahead. With the doors shutting out the sun's rays, the light in the distance ahead didn't seem nearly so dim, and his eyes quickly adjusted; he could see now that the darkness had made the underground hallway seem longer than it was, and perhaps half a minute of walking brought him out of the passage and into a large, domed chamber.

He had to stop again just to take it all in; the dome went up and up and up, seeming to stretch nearly the height of the ravine outside! And it was there at the ceiling he saw the source of the light, or rather the sources: little orbs of pure, white light floated there, never moving, never flickering, just hovering in the empty space and shining down into the room.

Incredible.

There was no doubt now that the warlocks had made this place, and had sometime long ago occupied it; but why? Had it been a place of congregation? A place to perform rituals? Was it, as some part of him hoped--feared--the entrance to a dungeon? He walked slowly towards the center of the chamber, standing on his hind legs and craning his head up to peer at the lights before turning his attention to the rest of the space. There was a small raised dais at the room's center, perhaps a place for a leader to stand and speak, or a place for someone to perform powerful magic, and judging by the intricate arcane symbols carved into the floor the latter seemed more likely! The grooves still even maintained a distinct edge, despite who knew how many footsteps had been taken upon them, and once one of his claws even caught in one of the channels; he stopped and carefully twisted it out, and made sure to keep his claws slightly lifted as he moved on.

As amazing a find as the dome itself was, it wasn't a dead end: several doors ringed its edges, though he let out a huff of disappointment when he saw that bars had been fastened in front of them, closing them off. He could likely break them down if he tried, but he felt it would be wise to only explore, and not to damage anything and risk activating any dormant protective spells...

One of the doors hadn't been barred! He hurried over to it, eyed it for a few moments, then pushed: it swung open, just as easily as the doors hidden in the gorge. He stepped through it and found himself at the top of a stairwell.

He froze, a knot of dread forming in his belly as he looked down into the... abyss, his mind supplied, but he tossed his head: it was just a staircase! Nothing to be afraid of! he told himself, but a little shiver ran down his spine regardless. He didn't quite believe himself, this time, despite all his confidence. Just looking around... If I see something dangerous, I can fight it, or turn and go back to the surface... He let out a snort that echoed down the stairs and back up, and began to descend.

Almost at once Hueroc noticed a change in the air. While the dome behind him had been full of fresh, nearly surface-quality air, now each breath smelled damp, and musty, reminding him more of a wet, deep cave than of the powerful magicians who had created this place. But why? he wondered as he descended, having to step carefully (he didn't have much experience with stairs). Even though he might have been the first creature to enter that upper chamber in hundreds of years, it had seemed as nice as his own cave, while down here... wherever he was going... it felt like being in a deep, poorly-made and -maintained little tunnel. Had the magic maintaining this section of the cave failed? The sound of dripping water was getting louder the deeper he went, so perhaps some underground waterway had changed course enough to intrude... Or was the effect deliberate?

At last he reached the base of the stairs, peering down the new tunnel he found himself in: more magical lights lit the way for him, and though he still heard the dripping water, and the air still smelled so damp, the rock that formed the walls and floor and ceiling was dry and free of any moss or mold.

Instead of water, what Hueroc found was doors.

They began almost at the foot of the stairs, a sturdy, closed, dragon-sized door on either wall. Then a couple dragon-lengths on stood another pair, and another, and another, off into the distance. He reached for the one on his right, to investigate, but stopped after a moment, his paw raised but not touching the wood: a thick padlock had been closed through the latch, locking it shut. And there didn't seem to be any keys nearby...

His heart was pounding, he realized, a faint thumping in his ears. What about this place made him so nervous?

He lowered his paw, and looked at the door across the hall: it was locked, as well. Not here to break anything, just to explore, he told himself again. With so many doors, surely not all of them were locked! Though his curiosity only grew as he prowled down the tunnel and passed locked door after locked door: what was down here that the warlocks had gone to so much trouble to hide?

Or who, he thought, thinking of what he'd read about the hidden dungeons. But anyone who'd been locked up here would be long dead, with the warlocks no more...

That thought only made his feeling of apprehension deepen. Every one of these doors might now secure a tomb for some forgotten man, or dragon...

Hueroc glanced back up the stairs for a moment, his hind legs quivering in nervous tension, before he took a few deep breaths to steady himself. There was nobody else here to cause him any danger. There was nothing to fear.

So he walked on down the passage, glancing at the doors as he went. Some doors were far apart, while others were nearly right next to each other, but each and every door he found was locked tight, a thick, solid padlock slipped through the bolt. He stopped, and sniffed at one of them: only metallic scents, nothing of dragon or human... Whatever was down here it was long abandoned, despite how nothing seemed to have deteriorated.

When he straightened up he thought he heard a noise: something rattling? He cocked his head, straining to pick up the sound, but it was gone nearly the moment he noticed it. "Hello?" he said softly, his gaze swiveling from the door, to both directions of the hall; had someone else found the entrance in the ravine, the sound of a closing door echoing all the way down to him? But no, it would have kept on bouncing off the walls to be heard again if that was the case...

He moved on, passing door after door after door, his unease building from the sight of so many locked rooms. Who knew what secrets were sealed away down here, secrets neither he nor anyone else was meant to find... He took a slow breath to calm himself down. The warlocks were long gone, and he was alone in this deep hidden passage; nobody would be coming to attack him for exploring this abandoned place! Looking up from another secure padlock, he groaned softly when he saw the end of the passageway not far ahead. A dead end, unless there was an unlocked door waiting for him...

Turn around. Just go home! the back of his mind shouted at him. There was nothing to be gained down here... and nothing to be lost, either, he countered.

"Mmmf..."

The red dragon stopped in his tracks. That hadn't been a footstep, or a confused echo of his breathing, it was a voice! It had to be! "Is someone there?" he said, the pit of nervousness in his belly feeling suddenly so much bigger, from how small his voice sounded in the deep tunnel. He cleared his throat and forced himself to speak up. "Hello?"

This time he sounded like himself, and his voice echoed more solidly off the walls. He listened for a response, but heard only himself and that endless slow drip of water, constant but unseen. One of the drops even sounded similar to the moan he could have sworn that he'd heard, or at least that's what he told himself... It was just that unexplained feeling of nervousness getting to him. He snorted and moved on, only for that sensation of dread to come back as strong as ever when he saw that the final door on the left bore no lock.

Just a quick peek, he told himself. See what's behind the door, then you can go back outside and track down that prey... So he pushed the door open and looked inside.

A wide stone slab greeted him, lit by magical lights in the corners of the room and resting on a dais that brought it up nearly to the height of his underbelly. It was large enough for him to easily have enough room to lie down on--and atop it lay a multitude of leather straps. They rested in slack loops over much of the stone, the leather such a deep black that it seemed to absorb the light that fell on it, looking thick, and supple... He couldn't help himself, he stepped forward, smelling the air cautiously, eventually extending a paw and rubbing gently against one of them. Nothing happened, of course; they were just leather...

Feeling more confident, he sat on his haunches next to the broad stone table and picked up one of the straps in his forepaws. He stroked the material and rumbled at the soft, smooth quality of it, pulling it gently up off the table, head tilting in curiosity when he saw that this strap had no buckle visible, instead fitting into little slits cut into the stone, the rest of it disappearing somewhere beneath. He peered at the small openings, unable to see what might be underneath, then pulled experimentally on it. It slid out smoothly for a moment, but he let out a yelp when he tugged harder and it snapped back against the stone with surprising force! The sudden yank made it slip from his claws, and he watched as it snapped down tight against the face of the rock, a metallic clang issued from somewhere underneath the slab, and a lever he hadn't noticed before, emerging from the table's side, ratcheted upward.

Hueroc just watched the straps for a moment, to see what else might happen, but the remaining belts didn't move even the slightest bit. Head cocked, he listened, sniffed the air, waited for a little while, but there was no other reaction: no release of magic, no sudden rumbling from elsewhere underground or footsteps running towards the sound of an intruder. It was just the mechanism of this... bondage device...

He took hold of another broad band of leather, careful only to pull slowly on it; it slid easily out of the stone. It could move as long as it was moved gently... But when he gave it a stronger yank, it snapped back tight against the rock, all the slack taken up. He pulled on it again, but now it wouldn't budge an inch: as he'd thought, making the strap tighten locked it in place! But what released it? The lever, he thought, recalling how it had moved when the first leather strap had been tightened. He pulled on it, and with a mechanical rumble the lever began to sink back to its original position, the two straps he'd pulled tight loosening up as it went.

The mechanism fascinated him; his tail twitched, in a bit of excitement this time, and though that sensation of nervousness remained, it was brushed away now by his curiosity, and the return of the fantasy from long ago of being tightly, inescapably bound! He wondered how it would feel to be pinned down on the stone... to be trapped... He didn't want to truly be trapped, but he could bind everything except one limb, or perhaps his head, and then squirm for a little while and let his imagination do the rest...

Better still for such devious thoughts, the device was clearly meant for a dragon, not a human! It was easy to see which belt was intended to pin which part of his own body, thick straps for his torso, a couple sets of loops for his wings, his tail, one band waiting on each corner of the table for his fore and hind paws... The straps for his forepaws even had bondage mittens attached to them, their insides lined with chain-mesh to resist a dragon's scrabbling claws as long as necessary! But where his neck would go there was no leather strap; instead there was an open steel collar, a few runes etched into its surface. Unlike the straps, this was not something that could be pulled from the stone; it was securely anchored by a D-ring, and a couple of experimental tugs assured him that it wouldn't move upward no matter what he did, or what position the release lever was in. He'd have to avoid it if--when--he laid down on the rock, he thought, and pushed it sideways so it laid against the stone instead of pointing upward and looking so dreadfully ready to accept his neck, and lock around it forever... He shivered just looking at the heavy collar and the link securing it to the rock. If he got himself stuck, there would be nobody coming to release him...

That thought alone nearly convinced him to leave. But he could be careful, he told himself, he could avoid the collar, try out the rest of the device, enjoy the bondage for a little while... The thought of lying there wriggling made him blush, and he glanced towards the door. There would be nobody around to interrupt him of course! But he still felt so embarrassed and shy about such a desire to bind himself... To feel powerless... He closed the door, taking another deep breath as the sound echoed briefly through the... the cell.

The ominous note made his tail twitch again, and when he turned back around his gaze fell on a low shelf he hadn't noticed before. He recognized immediately the objects that waited there, walking over, the idea in his head developing to include some of the things he saw there that would make it feel even more secure! There was a hood on the shelf, a muzzle, a few gags, a blindfold... The sight of a chastity belt and a gold cockring made him shudder. He could make himself feel extremely helpless... He wanted to do it... He would do it.

Hueroc picked the chastity belt first; if he waited any longer, he wouldn't be able to put it on! Already he could feel his loins stirring in anticipation, but he pre-empted them, pulling his hind legs and tail through the belt and tugging it up flush against his belly, locking it around his hips to trap himself in his slit. "Nnnh..." he panted softly as almost at once his muscles flexed, when his stiffening cock ran into the unyielding metal and he tried instinctively to squirm his hips and relieve the pressure, but the belt was tight--wonderfully tight--and wouldn't allow him out of his slit no matter how he wriggled.

The restriction made him groan quietly, and he went to the other end of the shelf. The full hood was awfully tempting... But in the end he selected the surprisingly modern ball-gag. Even the historians must have been wrong about precisely when the warlocks died out, he mused, spreading his jaws and pulling the gag deep into his maw. He let himself get used to it fitting between his teeth, then tugged the straps taut and buckled it on, letting out a low moan when wearing the gag only made his chastity feel tighter!

After a moment's consideration he scooped up the blindfold as well, laying it on the stone next to where his head would be. He was already shivering a little from the thought of the tension and worry he'd feel when he had to blindly guess at the lever's location when it came time to release himself...

All that remained was to slip himself beneath the many straps on the table itself. Grunting softly, he climbed up onto the slab and oriented himself in the proper direction, slowly, carefully scooting his tail, then hind legs, then hips underneath the straps for his chest and belly. He had to be careful not to push on them too hard... and he sighed a little when he'd centered himself in place, the thick bands ready to hold him when he pulled them all tight.

He rolled onto his back next, sliding his wings down, then back up again to tuck them underneath the leather meant to pin them down. His tail took a little more time to get into position; the warlocks had clearly been quite aware of how flexible a dragon's tail could be, and there were several straps for him to slip his tail through. He craned his neck to be certain he hadn't missed any, then slid his hind paws through the ankle-cuffs, stretching out a little to make sure the straps sat in the right places. Even with the bonds still slack, he could imagine how tight they would be once the time came...

"Mmmmgh..." He moaned softly, humping gently upward from the feeling of his chastity. A good idea to put that on, he thought, it would really emphasize how it would feel to be a prisoner, that he was down here to be contained, not to be granted any pleasure... Twisting his head to one side, then the other, he noted the locations of the leather for his forepaws before reaching for the blindfold: he would have to put his paws in last. He draped the leather pad across his snout, panting again when he pulled it over his eyes and his vision went black, having to twist awkwardly to reach the buckle behind his horns but finally tightening it to his satisfaction. Just his front paws left now... Letting his head lie back, he stretched out one paw, then the other, feeling them slip underneath the waiting straps, into the mittens that were loose enough to remove his paws from for now, but would be inescapable while the cuffs were tight!

Hueroc shivered all over, his nervousness returning with sudden force. There was no going back once he tightened the straps... He'd be stuck, until he reached out with his snout, hooked it under the lever and pulled, and nobody was around to help him if he couldn't do it on his own. Was he sure he could reach it? Careful to keep the rest of his body still, he craned his neck up and over to the right, reaching, reaching... whining when he felt nothing! But then he remembered that the lever was lowered at the moment, with all the straps loose. Letting his neck lie against the edge of the table, he reached down, and after a few moments touched the tip of his nose to it. He could reach it; he'd be fine.

His whole body shuddered at the thought of what he was about to do, his hind claws clenching and relaxing. He'd be so helpless... Just like the captives of the ancient warlocks who'd been whisked away from the world, imprisoned, forgotten... Moaning, he took one deep breath, two, three, but was unable to steady the tremors of nervous anticipation that raced through him; so finally he tensed, and bucked upward, tugging on all the straps in turn.

As expected, the table reacted with myriad clicks, and thumps, and dull clangs as the straps pulled tight. His tail was bound; his hind paws, extended down away from him and spread; his belly, his wings, and his chest pressed down firmly against the rock, then finally his forepaws were yanked between his wings and neck and pinned down, the mittens going tight to keep his claws trapped and useless. One final metallic ring sounded: the lever rising next to him. But ignore that, he told himself, pull on the rest... revel in how stuck you are...

Lying back, he put his weight behind each limb and tugged, grunting with effort: nothing would budge an inch! Fore and hind paws spread-eagled, chest strapped down... the belly-strap even secured his hips! So the needy, reflexive squirms of his hips felt just as restricted as every other movement--and his chastity seemed so achingly tight now, the tip of his shaft almost numb from how hard it pressed against the metal. "Mmmmf!" he panted, beginning to tug a little harder, the leather creaking softly from the force of his struggles but to his excitement not yielding even an inch! He was stuck, so tightly wonderfully stuck, captive, powerless... Moaning, he let his head rest against the stone, hips twitching gently up and down as his lust fought the restriction of his chastity belt.

Click.

His heart nearly stopped. What was... what had... He lifted his head instinctively as if to pinpoint the source of the noise, only to feel his neck restrained--by the collar!

Hueroc lay completely still on his back, breathing heavily as realization and utter disbelief warred against each other. There was no way... He'd made sure to turn it so he wouldn't fall into it accidentally... It wasn't possible! But when he tried again to lift his head, the feeling of metal wrapped around his neck remained.

"Mmmf... Mmm-mmmmmmf..." He moaned, his head shaking back and forth in denial. He was unwilling... unable to believe the collar had somehow shut itself around his throat! His muffled moans grew louder with every unsteady breath, building and building as panic began to set in... "Mmmmmmmf! Mmmmmmf! Hlllmmmmmm!" he cried out through the ball-gag he'd strapped so tightly into his own maw, bucking and struggling violently against all the tight straps. He grunted from effort, breaths whooshing through his nostrils as he strained, pulling each limb in every possible direction, fighting and thrashing against his bonds; but all the leather held, the mittens resisted his foreclaws, and now the collar pinned his head to the slab as well! He couldn't reach the lever! He was stuck--

And his chastity felt tighter than ever.

He groaned and writhed in his bondage, but could do nothing to relieve the aching pressure; how could he be so horny at a time like this? He needed to get free! Howling again, he fought as hard as he could against the straps, claws clenched and jaws clamped against the gag as he put all the strength in his limbs into his struggles. He had to fight it, he had to pull something free, somehow; he couldn't let himself be trapped! Maybe he could do something with his claws despite the metal-and-leather mitts, find a way to get the gag and blindfold off, then he could figure something out! He twisted and flexed his claws, heart pounding as he pulled against the straps and the collar...

But it was useless. He could rub his cheek against a mitten, sure, but no matter what he tried, no matter how hard he strained, his claws couldn't escape the mesh that protected the leather from their sharp points! He had bound himself too well to do anything with his claws or his teeth or his strength... And the collar, however it had closed, had finished the job. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmgh!" he bellowed in anguish, giving in to his body's frustration and roughly humping against the chastity belt, his shaft throbbing beneath it, pinned up against the metal so painfully.

He kept struggling as long as he could, but at last he'd drained all the strength he had and collapsed against the stone, gasping for breath, whole body quivering from the effort he'd put into the fight--and how pointless the fight had been. Through his heaving breaths he heard a second, softer clicking noise from somewhere in the direction of the door, and though he couldn't see through the blindfold he'd put on himself he instinctively knew what sound he'd heard: the sound of a padlock closing the door--his door--forever.

Hueroc could only whimper, sealed in the prison of his own over-eager design... The warlocks must have left the doors to their prisons open, as a lure, a trap for any who dared to enter, or dared to try, to ensure their locations were never revealed... He'd fallen right into it, and his own devious desires had only ensured his helplessness. The straps tightly pinning every limb, the gag that locked away his bite, and his flame... The blindfold... Even the horribly cramped chastity belt!

He moaned again in despair, listening to his muffled groans and the creaking of the leather echo off the walls of his cell, fitfully struggling but knowing deep down it was pointless. He was trapped, he was helpless, and he would starve down here...

He eventually fell into an exhausted slumber, only to jerk awake again when his shaft pushed against his chastity belt and the discomfort woke him. He had no way of knowing how much time had passed, so deep underground, and blindfolded... Grunting, he strained against his bondage, but it was just as tight as it had been since the moment the collar had snapped shut, and he could only whine around his gag, tugging this way and that against the straps. The leather bands gripped him with unyielding force, and even moving the width of a claw was a struggle that made him groan with effort... Every moment that passed only demonstrating how powerless he was, and that he had no hope of escape.

It didn't stop him from trying. He squirmed near-constantly, hoping in the face of an already countless number of fruitless attempts that somehow, some way he would manage to release the straps, moaning and wriggling and howling to the uncaring walls of his prison in desperation. Despite it all his body refused to stop being so excited by his dark fantasy so horribly brought to life, and he hated himself for being so turned on by his helplessness but couldn't make his arousal go away! Every little while he rocked his hips, flexed, and strained... all in vain, as he'd seen to it himself that he would not be allowed out of his slit. Left only able to whine and tense up and squirm back and forth every time he began to press so firmly, painfully, against the chastity belt... which was far too often.

Yet again he tried to break free, his cock aching as he tugged hard against his bonds and pressed his claws against the steel keeping them away from the inside of his mittens, hearing the creak of the leather, thrashing, bucking, trying to find space to slip free somehow... But he was left panting and drooling around the gag, utterly powerless in the grip of the bondage. Every failed attempt just reminded him that he wasn't going anywhere, and he lowered his head, defeated, whining, and gently rocking his hips in frustration when his shaft throbbed against the chastity.

He couldn't escape... and after how hard it had been for him to find the dungeon, how deep in the cavern his cell was, how secure the lock on his door undoubtedly was, he knew there was no hope of being rescued no matter how much he yearned for it! That he was alone, that no help would come for him, that he would never rise from the stone he was bound to... He shuddered and sobbed wretchedly, collapsing in weariness. Sleep claimed him again, but the passage of time brought him no closer to freedom. When he awoke he continued to struggle, weakly, hopelessly, wondering how long it had been--noticing absently that he didn't seem to be getting hungry, or thirsty, or ever need to empty his bladder... But such little oddities meant nothing, next to the imprisonment he was powerless to break.

Already he had lost his grasp on time; had he been down here a few hours? A day? Two? With nothing but blackness and tight bondage to tease his senses, only the constant dripping of water assured him that time was passing at all; it could have been racing by or crawling with horrible slowness for all he knew... and for all it mattered. Quickly how long he'd been there ceased to matter; only that he was there, and that escape was impossible.

"Mmmmf! Mmmmmg!" Hueroc howled into the blackness, again and again, the deep, locked underground cell swallowing up every muffled sound he made, the secure bondage making every movement a useless struggle, and the constant straining of his shaft against the chastity belt a humiliating reminder that some part of him enjoyed being imprisoned in this dungeon! The dragon could only squirm, and moan through his tight ball-gag, and grind against his chastity belt, forced to live out the tormenting fantasy for the rest of his life...