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Subdued by Scaly Soles for Dexter by Draconicon

Time passed slowly in The Black's dungeon. Dexter had learned that more and more as the visits from his captor - the only way he had of telling time - seemed to grow further and further apart. Left in the dark, with little more than two candles for illumination, the otter wondered when - not if - he would go crazy.

It had been at least a dozen visits since The Black had slid the chastity rod over his cock, and the otter still hadn't had the chance to release. He squirmed constantly, panting, but he wasn't even allowed to thrust anymore. All he could do was pant, whimper, and groan as his shaft was constantly teased, and never allowed to release.

Somewhere between the sixth and ninth visit since then - it had been too hazy for him to remember which - he'd been bound in a new position. No longer was he allowed to squat naked against the wall. Instead, he was hung by his heels, tied back to the wall by the ankles, waist, neck, shoulders, and wrists. Every so often, when the tube around his shaft overflowed, the pre dripped down on his face. He lapped it up without thinking; it was one of the few drinks he could rely on, and he couldn't waste it.

More painful, however, were the candles that provided his only light. They were dug into the wall above his feet, the wicks pointing towards the other wall. Aside from the dull burn of the fires barely an inch above his soles, the melting wax always found a way to fall directly on his feet. Every few minutes, he felt another splash of wax on one, the other, or both soles, and he would hiss in pain.

The first few times he'd jerked and nearly burned his feet on the candle flame itself. He quickly learned to avoid that.

It didn't help that The Black constantly cleared his feet of the wax build-up either. It would be one thing if the wax solidified and covered his feet. He could handle that; it would be like armor. But to have it taken away again and again, the only protection he had, was torment in the extreme.

Dexter hissed as another drop of wax landed on his left foot, his toes curling in response. The latest burning spot was right on his arch, barely on his foot at all, but it hurt all the more for it. But at least it distracted him from the yawning emptiness in his stomach.

It rumbled as soon as he thought of it, and Dexter bumped the back of his head against the wall in frustration.

"Come ooooon...Let me go! You've made your point! Let me go!"

Silence, as ever, was his answer. The otter whimpered, slumping back against the wall.

Maybe it'd be better to give in. Just a little, just a bit so I could -

He snorted. He couldn't give in. Not now. He'd made it...well, he didn't know how long. But he had gone for weeks, certainly; he could go for a little longer. The Black had to give up eventually, when he realized that this didn't work.

His stomach gurgled again, and this time, there was another sound. The soft, subtle sound of a key in a lock, turning. Dexter whipped his head around, staring around his arm towards the door.

"Well now, is the prisoner hungry?"

The Black's grin infuriated him, but the otter slowly nodded.

"Good. Good to hear. Well, you might be happy to know we're increasing your diet. No need for a hungry prisoner, after all."

Yeah, I'll bet. What's the catch?

"But there is a cost, you know."

Knew it. The otter rolled his eyes a bit as the robed dragon set a tray down on the table in the middle of the room. He remained silent as the dragon pulled a stool over, sitting down with his feet lifted off the floor. Annoyingly, the elevation meant that those scaly soles were nearly in his face.

"You see, we are starting you on a liquid diet. No more solids, I'm afraid, but you will get all the protein you need. Of course, this does carry a bit of a problem, since I doubt you can drink easily in that position. So how, oh how, could we feed you properly?"

Could you stop with the yammering and just feed me already? And get those stinky - mmph - feet out of my face!

He didn't dare say it aloud, but he forced himself to think it. The effects of the dragon's musk remained, and each breath he took was driving his body's libido through the roof. A simple sniff brought a throb to his cock. Anything longer or more substantial made his need to cum all the more excrutiating.

"But we've finally thought of a solution. You're already growing so fond of our scent, judging by that bouncing shaft of yours." The dragon flicked it, and the otter groaned. "And I think you almost like that wax as well, but that's immaterial, for now.

"Since you like our scent, why not see if you like the taste as well?"

...No. No, no, no, you can't be that sadistic...You wouldn't.

"A liquid diet does well to be poured." The dragon reached for a bottle. "Let's see how you like licking your lunch off of your superior's foot."

The dragon's hand tilted forward, and Dexter watched a golden liquid, sauce like in consistency, flow down the dragon's calf. It coiled around it, almost slithering down the leg rather than rushing down it like something thinner would have. It kept coming, running down until it gathered on the sole of the dragon's foot. Continuing from there to the toes, it dripped finally onto the otter's face. The Black smirked, keeping up the slow pour.

"I would eat, slave. You will not get a second chance at food for some time."

Dexter groaned, his cheeks burning from the humiliation. Drip, drop went the golden sauce over his cheeks and forehead, but none of it came close enough to his lips to lick up. Every little drip was scattered too far. It couldn't be an accident; the dragon was making him demean himself to get anything.

It's just to get food, he told himself. I'll just do it once. Then I'll be strong enough to resist.

After a final moment of hesitation, Dexter leaned forward as much as his neck allowed and licked at the dragon's toes. The sauce tasted like a soft soup, a chicken broth or something, but creamier. He hoped that it was true cream instead of 'dragon cream,' but at this point, he couldn't afford to be choosy.

Lick, lick, lick. Despite the rich chicken taste, he could taste the sweat and the musk that lay beneath. Every single lick was tainted with the dragon's own special 'flavor,' and it sent a throb of excitement to his shaft with every new dose of it. The otter shuddered, whimpering and squirming. His toes curled and rapidly uncurled at the reminder of the flame above them.

Another drop of wax, another hiss of pain, but this time it was accompanied by a laugh. He panted, looking around the dragon's toes. The Black was looking at the rod on him again, and flicked it.

"It seems you truly are enjoying this, slave. Your body craves the wax and the pain as much as it does our scent. Truly, you are coming along well."

The otter shuddered, not daring to say anything. He'd been feeling strange of late, but that didn't mean he wanted anything from the candles. It just meant he'd been upside-down too long. That was all. That. Was. All.

It wasn't until he stopped thinking about his feet that he noticed he was licking the dragon's foot faster and faster. His tongue was gliding over that scaly sole, licking up all the sauce that came down...and all the stuff underneath it. Dexter realized that he wasn't even getting fed anymore, and forced himself to stop.

The sudden painful pleasure from his cock made him wish he continued, but he squelched it. He wasn't going to give in. He wasn't.

"Oh, done already? I suppose I could let you work on my other foot, then."

The spit slick foot was pulled away, but quickly replaced by the other. Dexter's tongue slid out before he could stop it, and he had to endure the direct flavor of the dragon's foot for three licks before he could make himself stop. The strong taste of scales, of sweat and musk, left a salty, almost bitter flavor on his tongue. He shook his head, even as his hips thrust against his bonds. At this rate, he felt he was going to have bruises by the time his meal was over, and he hadn't even gotten anything he wanted.

He glared up between the dragon's toes, remaining silent as the dragon looked down at him. It wasn't until the sauce was poured - a white one, this time - that he started licking it up again. The flavor was salty, almost suspiciously so, but Dexter forced himself to not think about it. If he dwelt on it too long, he wouldn't have any chance to eat, and then he would be too weak to do anything.

This time, he managed to pull his head back, dragging his tongue along the dragon's toes, as the flow of sauce reached its end. He was panting, he was aching to cum, but he hadn't embarrassed himself again by licking the dragon's foot directly. He wasn't going to turn into one of those lust crazed slaves. He promised himself; he was not.

The Black seemed to wait for a few seconds, seeing if he would keep licking. When he didn't, the dragon's foot was pulled away.

"You've done well enough, slave. I suppose I can give you a bit of a reward."

Reward? Oh god...please, just...

He wanted to say something good. To be released. To be allowed to eat. To be able to sit normally, or be back on his feet again, or anything that was normal. He didn't want to sound like one of those slaves that he saw on the street, that were taunted and teased because of the tasks the dragons made them do to earn an orgasm.

"Please...let me cum."

He felt just like them when he said it, and his cheeks burned worse than ever as the words left his mouth.

"Heh. I'm afraid you don't understand, slave. You don't get to pick your reward. You don't even get to ask. That, little one, is my job to decide."

The otter whimpered as he realized how far he had fallen. Everything was falling apart for him, from his self control to his ability to resist. He had to hold on, but he was rapidly losing track of how to do it.

Dexter took a few deep breaths, but almost lost it again as the dragon reached above his feet. The candles were moved, the heat - and the threat of wax - gone. It felt almost disturbing, to have that constant taken away, but a relief as well.

"Now, we'll just replace these with something a little stronger."

...What?

The otter looked up as much as he could. Through the stream of pre falling towards his face, he could make out some blue crystals the dragon was installing above his feet. They crackled with some sort of magical energy, and as soon as the dragon pulled his hand away, zapped at his feet.

He jerked at the harsh electric shock, then almost laughed at the tingling rush of milder ones that followed, hitting every part of his foot at once, darting over his soles.

"I'll allow the thunder crystals to do their work. I'll see you next time, slave. Hopefully by then, you'll be a little more...accommodating."

The End