After many hours of flight, the heavy rope linked to the thick metal collar was finally pulled downward.
The flight itself had been simple, no heavy crosswinds or headwinds, but the lack of vision and free will was another story altogether.
Being forced to fly at the whim of another was something no self-respecting dragon would ever consider.

Throughout the entire flight, the day's events had been going through his mind.
He had been so foolish to presume the offering to be clean, as it had been ever since they started paying tribute!
Those dammed hunters would pay once he got his chance!
They would all rue the day that they caught him! He would just need to bide his time.
Clearly these hunters knew exactly how to capture creatures like him.

New scents filled his nostrils as he was pulled down.
Smoke filled his lungs first, soon followed by the scent of 'Civilization' as some might call it.
Pitched wood, mud, bipeds chattering and filling the air with their voices and scents. It was almost a little disorienting since he had no sight to rely on.
Moments later, the creatures leading him landed and he braced for a rough landing. With the little time to fully prepare for the landing and not knowing where the ground actually was, the landing hurt.
He stumbled forwards before crashing in to ground, landing first on his chest and shoulders and then onto his exposed cock. His jaws tested the muzzle as he let out a hampered roar of pain!

"Silence, beast!"

The leader called out. The command was swiftly followed with the sharp sting of a whip across his scaled flank, drawing a pained hiss from his lips.

"Get up, beast. or has your jewelry already broken your spirit?"

The leader mocked him as the dragon turns his head toward the voice, curling up his lips in a silent growl while he pushed himself up.

"Hah! good! it would be a shame to for you to be broken already! I love watching a new mount learn it's place."

The dragon snorts defiantly before another tug on the ropes prompts him to walk forwards.
As the ground transitions from dirt into stone, some thoughts begin creeping into the dragon's mind.
Would it even be possible to break free from this place? What if they just kept him blinded?!
The scent of bipeds grew stronger as they walked, he could hear them walking past, muttering about some kind of feast that the 'Lord' is hosting.

Suddenly the sounds around him changed, they had walked inside of someplace. Uncut stone was beneath his claws, Natural stones, this must be some sort of cave. That surprised him. Bipeds loved bragging about their crafted homes.
This must be a special place for them to leave the stone as it was.
His forelegs bumped solid rock, pulling him from his thoughts. He lowered his head, trying to understand what stood before him, before the leader’s voice cut through the silence.

"Now beast, raise your foreclaws onto the stone before you. If you cooperate, we might just let you see again."

The leader chuckled and cracked a whip, reminding the dragon what waited for him if he dared refuse.

So, the dragon did as commanded. As reluctant as he was, he did not want to make things worse for himself.
Once his foreclaws landed on the stone before him, their cuffs were quickly replaced with new ones. These cuffs locked his claws in place.
He shifted his weight in anger, another restraint holding his power in check..!!

"Now, no biting, or we will rip out your fangs."

The leader’s boots scraped on the stone as he walked closer. The dragon froze, holding his head still as the man reached up and tugged at buckles and straps. Suddenly the weight of the muzzle dropped away.
The leader held it in his hands while the dragon blinked, struggling to adjust to sight again.

The chamber around him glowed with pulsing pink runes etched into the walls and floor. Standing stones hummed softly. Cave paintings and ancient relics crowded the space.
This was a ritual site, without a doubt. And that was bad. If he was in a ritual chamber packed with latent power, anything could happen. Anything could be done to him.

The leader, a muscular orc wearing leather armour held the muzzle in his hand, grinned at the growing realization upon the dragon's face.

"Welcome to our home, beast. you will be its newest mem-"

"Grax! I thought I told you, 'No more blue dragons!"

A deeper voice cut him off. A robed figure strode into the chamber. Chains and knotted ropes hung from his garments. Dark purples and bright pink runes shimmered along the fabric. He tossed his hood back and revealed his monkey face. Rounded ears, a small muzzle, and almost human features, though clearly he was something else. Long brown hair framed his expression of irritation.

"Father, I-"

"No excuses. Be gone with you. I will deal with you later. Do not make this same mistake again."

"Yes Father. Of course."

The orc hurried out under the monkey’s stare. Only when the orc vanished did the newcomer finally turn his deep brown eyes on the dragon. There was a cold, sharp interest in them, the kind that made the dragon’s throat tighten.

He walked closer, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact. As he neared, he parted his robe and revealed a small container. His hand slipped inside to grab it, then let the robe fall closed again.

"Now, Dragon. lower your head. I am sure I don't have to repeat the threat made to you. You are smarter then that, are you not?"

Reluctantly, the dragon lowered his head. The monkey smiles and opens up the container, dipping a finger inside and dipped a finger into the glowing pink paint. The dragon tensed as the colour caught the light. This was the same hue as the runes carved into the cavern. The same humming energy that already made his scales prickle.

The finger touched his forehead. The sigil was drawn with practiced, graceful strokes. And the moment it formed, something shuddered through his body. His thoughts staggered. His breath hitched.

The magic seeped inward like warm smoke. His vision dimmed at the edges, narrowing as if the world were pulling away. A soft pressure whispered behind his mind, a half-heard voice threading through his thoughts. Not words at first. Just sounds. Noise. Then came suggestions. Urges. A gentle weight nudging him to stillness.

His muscles softened under its pull. His instincts, loud and sharp a mere heartbeat ago, felt wrapped in cotton.

Why resist?

Why struggle?

The whispers stroked the shape of his thoughts, smoothing down the parts that bristled, quieting the parts that feared. Each breath made the rune sink deeper, its glow sinking beneath his scales like ink through cloth. The magic did not simply bind him.

It coaxed.

It persuaded.

It reshaped what he believed was his own will.

Quiet. Soft. Careful. Whispering in a tone so gentle it almost felt like his own voice. A weightless suggestion that curled around his thoughts like water.

"Be still. Listen. Obey."

He snarled inside himself, trying to throw the thoughts off. He knew they didn’t belong. He knew they were shaped by the rune still glowing faintly on his scales. Yet they didn’t feel forced. They felt offered. They felt easy.

And that made them dangerous.

His vision narrowed again. The chamber seemed further away, walls retreating like a dream fading at the edges. He dug his claws into the stone, fighting to anchor himself, but even the sensation of stone under him felt muted.

He tried to reach for anger. For pride. For anything sharp. Anything that was his.

"Why strain?" the new thoughts whispered. "Why cling to pain? Why fight when stillness feels better?"

“No,” he tried to think. The word should have been loud inside his skull. Instead it felt thin, barely spoken.

"You are tired," the whispers soothed. 'You have suffered enough. Let the struggle fade. Let us guide you."

He shook his head—physically, mentally, any way he could—but the movement felt sluggish, as if the air had thickened around him. His memories flickered. The hunters. The betrayal. The sky. The sun. The wind under his wings. They flashed bright, then dimmed as the new presence pushed warm pressure through his mind.

He forced the memories back to the surface. Forced himself to relive the feeling of open air. Forced the sense of freedom to burn.

For a heartbeat, the rune flickered.

His real thoughts surged upward, claws dug into stone, rage returning like fire in his throat.

"This is wrong. This is not mine. I am not theirs. I am-"

The whispers answered immediately, covering the thought like a blanket thrown over flame.

"You are safe with us. You are meant for this. You are meant to serve. Serving is easier than fighting. Easier than pain. Let go. Let go."

The pressure grew thicker, more insistent. Not aggressive. Not violent. Just patient. Unyielding. Certain. The magic didn’t need to crush him. It simply needed to make fighting feel pointless.

And for a moment, only a moment, he felt the pull.
A soft glow of contentment. A false comfort. A sense of purpose laid out for him, simple and clean.

His mind wavered.
The dragon inside him roared.
The new voice whispered.
Both fought for the same breath.

His heart hammered. His breathing quickened. The sigil pulsed, each pulse nudging the new thoughts deeper, weaving them between his own. Not replacing. Not overpowering.

Blending.

That was the worst part.
It wanted to make him think the voice had always been there. He fought harder, clinging to any shred of self he could grab.

The monkey watched calmly, the struggle was expected. It merely was part of the process. The dragon’s resistance was nothing more than the last flicker of a candle before it guttered out, and he revealed in watching the fire dim with every moment that passed.

And the dragon, trembling under the pull of magic and will, realized something cold:

The rune didn’t simply want obedience.
It wanted to reshape the idea of obedience until it felt like freedom.

The monkey gently smirked, watching how the dragon's eyes began to shift and change. the blue glimmer of free will fading as a pink glow began to overtake them. Consuming them.
It would not be long before the cult had another eager mount. Even if it might be another blue.

------------

This art was made by :icontitansong:
I figured it would make for a perfect continuation of the Bondage Flight peice. 

Story by me

The monkey belongs to a friend of mine.

Let me know what you think~ :)