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The Mindbreaker's Throne for Dexter by Draconicon

Despite his loyalty to the Black, Dexter was starting to think that he might be on the wrong side. It wasn't anything definitive, just a feeling. A feeling of insane, utter lust that was going to drive him out of his mind if his master didn't take his black-scaled feet away from his face sometime soon.

The otter whimpered from his place beneath the dragon's throne, hearing The Black talking with another of the dragons about some matter involving a cluster of mortals found after an attack. The Black gave some orders that were beyond Dexter's ability to hear, and the other dragon walked off.

He barely kept himself from whimpering as the room emptied again. The small office was unassuming enough, but it had been the place of many different tortures for him, mostly to do with his feet, and that mostly because they were in easy access to the dragon.

How did this go so wrong? he wondered. One day, he was serving as a means of relief for the dragon (nothing easy, but not particularly time consuming) and the next, he'd been built into this strange, massive throne that The Black used for his meetings with other dragons. It was of such a height that the large dragon's feet didn't quite touch the ground, but instead rested on Dexter's face. The rest of the otter's body was pulled up and through the rest of the throne, putting his bare soles into the arms of the chair.

Most of the time, The Black's fingers rested on the arches or ball of his foot, but the otter was in constant trepidation that the moment would shift and the fingers wouldn't just be resting any longer. It would only take a few inches of movement to start the torment -

"Ulp!"

He gulped as he felt the dragon's pointer finger drift down from the big toe of his left foot to the start of his arch, unable to even curl his toes to protect himself due to the little metal cords that bound them upright and apart from each other. He tried to keep his whimpers back, but this time he wasn't successful.

The Black heard him, and Dexter groaned as those smooth, musky soles ground against his cheeks, rubbing the scent into his face and over his nose. The long months of conditioning made his cock ache where it was hidden away under the throne, straining against his chastity cage with every breath the otter took. The Black smiled.

"Looks like my little footrest is still a little bit antsy. I'm amazed that you haven't lost your mind just yet."

So am I, Dexter thought as the dragon's claws scraped over his sole, just the slightest firmness away from actually tickling him. He could take scratching; the tickling would drive him mad.

And the dragon knew that, so the otter knew that it would only be a matter of time until he was subjected to it again. He shuddered as he saw the dragon lean to the side above him, grabbing two things from out of sight and keeping them hidden.

"Do you know, footrest, that you are one of the longest lasting unbroken people in this kingdom?"

Dexter didn't answer, not wanting to say something in case it wasn't allowed. The dragon leaned forward, tapping him on the nose with a sweaty toe.

"You can answer."

"I...did not. I thought...I thought I was broken."

"In body, somewhat. In the rest of you...not quite." The Black leaned back again. "It is my job to break people. Whether of bad habits...or of other things. Once broken, I can make you into what you should be...what will protect you. But first you must be broken."

"...Why?"

"Because."

The otter yelped as he felt a sudden burning sensation on his right sole, and he realized that the dragon had up-ended a burning candle on him, letting droplets of hot wax fall onto his foot. The otter shuddered, his body trying and failing to buck inside of the throne. His cock hurt inside of the chastity cage that held it, forced to stay small when it so desperately wanted to get hard. The dragon continued.

"Because a mind given freely can be given again. A mind broken, reformed, and bonded in metaphorical steel...well, that is much harder to change again."

Dexter shuddered at the mental image, remembering all the torment that he had already gone through. The breaking beneath the crystals, the constant electrical barrages to his cock and his feet, the long term chastity he'd gone through before pledging himself to the dragons and their service; it had been enough to drive him mad, for a while. And now, they said it wasn't enough? The Black said that he hadn't suffered, hadn't been properly broken just yet? How far did they need to push him?

He had his head forcibly turned to the side by the dragon's feet, his vision pointed to the far wall as another dragon walked in. This time, however, his ear was less covered, and he could make out more of the conversation. Somewhat more, anyway; it was hard to focus with the smell of the dragon's big, slick feet on his face and so near his nose.

"Lord Black. The villagers have been brought to your dungeons."

"Good. What is the initial assessment?"

"It looks like they were touched by the intruders, but not completely converted. The -" The dragon used a word that Dexter wasn't familiar with. " - hasn't consumed more than a fraction of a limb in the worst case."

"Salvageable. Prepare a dozen crystals, four dozen feet of rope...and a bee-hive, I think."

"A bee-hive, sir?"

"I'm feeling creative today."

"As you wish, Lord Black."

The other dragon bowed, while Dexter resisted the urge to burrow his nose under the dragon's toes. It was more difficult than he wanted to admit, particularly when he was turned to face upwards again, and the toes curled over his nose, and the heels were pressing against his throat.

"Were you listening to that, footrest?"

"No, no."

"You lie."

The dragon shoved a toe into the otter's mouth before he could protest, and Dexter hated the fact that he started sucking on it almost immediately, drawing the sweaty flavor from the scales and swallowing it happily.

"It seems that I have to break you to not only teach you obedience, but also, honesty. It will take some time...but I've been wanting a challenge."

The toe thrust in and out of his mouth like The Black's cock had done once, leaving the otter unable to think about anything but the taste of the foot and the sweat running over his tongue. His eyes glazed over as he was 'rewarded' with the mind-blanking pleasure, the long term conditioning in the dungeon making it impossible for him to think or protest as he was assaulted with the potent musk.

He wasn't sure how long it lasted, but the combination of a sudden withdrawal and the 'stabbing' of the dragon's fingers against his feet jolted him from his blissful state. As they started dancing over his soles, wiggling and tickling them, the otter burst out into laughter. He couldn't kick, bound up as he was, but he damn well tried, his legs bunching helplessly inside the throne.

"Gahahahahahaha! M-Master, please!"

"You will break, whether by this, by pleasure, or by pain. Eventually, I will find what your weakness is."

"Bu-hahahahahahahah! Please sto-ha-ha-haaaaaaap!"

"No."

The dragon's fingers wiggled up and down the otter's feet, something that was all too easy for him to do, considering where Dexter's soles were trapped. They were almost part of the chair at this point, as he had been bound into the chair for nearly three weeks now. He wasn't allowed out for anything, and was fed while The Black was elsewhere. The tickles, though, the tickles were the worst of it.

He tensed and shoved his head from side to side. It was the only part of his body that could move at all, and even then, the dragon held him down with those big, black feet half the time. When he was pinned, he felt like he was going to suffocate, because he couldn't stop laughing, and the pressure from the feet kept him from getting all the air that he needed. Like now, as the big black sole pressed against his cheek, the heel resting against the side of his neck. He could feel his air supply dwindling, bit by bit.

Tickle tickle tickle went the dragon's fingers over his soles, and the otter couldn't do a thing. His toes were bound, and even when the dragon flicked his claws over the hardened wax, almost ripping them off of the otter's soles, it only felt good due to the damn way his head was warped around.

Laughing like a madman, the otter was helpless to do anything, even think as people were brought in and out of The Black's chambers. Discussions were carried on, something about contracts were mentioned, but Dexter couldn't hear or make sense of any of it. All he could focus on were the dancing, twitching fingers above his feet, and the occasional stabbing motions of the claws against his soles. He was losing his mind, bit by bit.

It felt like hours later, when spots were forming over his vision and his ribs felt like they were going to break, when the tickling finally stopped. Dexter coughed, but the laughing kept going. His eyes went wide, staring up at the dragon as he laughed even as his face twisted into a look of fear.

The Black held up his hands, showing that he had stopped tickling, but the otter swore that the sensations were still there. He could feel the tickling. Why?!

"Wha-hahahahahat did you doooooohohohohohoho?!"

"I merely tickled you. What's happened since is the result of your own twisted little mind, little footrest."

Dexter cried as he kept laughing. First being nearly paralyzed from the constant torture to his feet, then locked up in a chastity device, then made a living footrest for a dragon's throne, and now phantom tickles? What else could possibly go wrong?

The End