Taken to the princess's castle

You are spared from any disturbance until the next day, when the clatter of the caravan's wheels on cobblestone signals its arrival to some human hub.

The covered wagon comes to a halt, and you feel the shift as the guards prepare to unload their cargo. Figures briefly enter the caravan and take out several boxes, and you can hear the knight's voice somewhere outside. Finally, the canvas flap is yanked open, revealing the bright daylight that momentarily blinds you after the dim interior. Strong hands grip your chains, pulling you roughly from the wagon and into the cool air.

Before you can ascertain anything, you're shoved into a large crate, the lid slamming shut, plunging you back into darkness. Small holes decorate the top of the crate, no doubt for air, but you hardly have the space or wherewithal to see anything.

The sound of wood scraping against wood echoes as they seal you inside. The crate lurches as it's lifted, then set down with a thud. Footsteps recede, leaving you alone in the cramped space, the smell of wood and sweat heavy in your nostrils.

After what feels like an eternity, the crate is opened again, this time by a trio of female attendants of varying ages. Blinking in the light, you hear them murmur and coo in awe at seeing you form. With the help of two of the guards from yesterday - you can tell from their smell and the familiar feel of your hands -they lift you out, your chains clinking ominously, and set you on the floor in a grand bathroom, tiled in marble and lined with mirrors that reflect your scaled form. Before you can see their faces, the guards leave.

The knight stands by, his armor glinting in the light, his expression unreadable. "Clean her," he commands the attendants, who immediately begin guiding you into a large tub. You can see their enduring expressions of shock and awe at your presence as they keep glancing at eachother, never meeting your own gaze.

You're lowered into a bath filled with warm water and scented oils, the heat soothing your aching muscles. The attendants scrub vigorously, their hands rough as they cleanse every inch of your scaled body, paying special attention to the places where your captors have marked you. You try to lay back, but they do not you properly relax as they scrub you all over.

At least that small is gone, you think as you sniff the human perfumes. But another part of you knows this is just one of the many ways you are being marked by your new owners.

The knight returns, now free of his armor. You had not even noticed him leave during the process. He looked slimmer, of course, without the armor, but you could see that much of stockiness was genuine muscle. You shuddered to think of how you saw his might firsthand.

"Behave yourself in front of the Princess," the knight warns, his voice cutting through the splashing water, "or worse things will happen to you." His gaze is stern, but there's a flicker of something else—a spark of interest—as he watches the attendants work. You notice his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his fingers tightening rhythmically, betraying his arousal.

The attendants finish their task, drying you off with coarse towels before securing a collar around your neck. The metal is cold against your skin, and a lead is attached, transforming you into a spectacle of submission. They leave, but the knight remains.

You sit in the warm but quickly cooking water, eyes wide, staring ahead but not meeting the knight's gaze. Your heartbeat quickens, and you can feel your muscles tense in fear.

Or was it fear? The tensing of your muscles down below sends a certain kind of anxiety through your body, one that you have become all too accustomed to confusing with anticipation.

Your eyes shift to the mirrors on the wall, and take in your unmistakenly seductive form. Despite your small, draconic size, you always felt you had a form to admire. But now... collar around your neck, big doe eyes, a slender form that seemed complimented by even more shapely assets. Had you grown, or was your mind merely broken by its new experiences? You had always been told that dominance and submission was a key part of a young dragon's development, but like this...?

Your frozen, thoughtful state was interrupted by the knight taking hold of the metal lead hanging from your neck and draping over the bathtub. He tugged on it, his eyes darkening as he pulls you closer. "You..," he began, his labored breath betraying some sort of effect on him, "will soon be presented to the Princess."

You could tell that pulling the lead had made an impression on him. All the evidence laid in the bulge clearly forming in his trousers.

The feeling of the collar on your neck, of being pulled, of having such an affect on a man - the man who overpowered and took you, no less - it affected you too. It felt like a new power you had discovered through all of this, some semblance of dignity left in you that you could reclaim. And in exercising it, you had the opportunity to avoid further **** and claw back some control - even though a part of you that reason was a mere excuse.

In the silence of the grand bathroom, the only sounds are the dripping of water and the knight's heavy breathing. You meet his gaze, your own eyes conveying a mix of defiance and desire. Without a word, you kneel over the bathtub, the lead clinking against the ground, and lean forward, nipping the belt of his trousers with your fangs.

With a surprisingly swift motion, you pull down his trousers and flick your tongue to taste the underside of his cock, now free and hardening quickly. A certain sense of pride fills you, like finding a natural skill.

His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't stop you. Instead, he grips the edge of the bathtub, his knuckles turning white as you take him into your mouth, your lips encircling him tightly. Your tongue works its magic, sliding along his length, your throat accommodating his size as you deepthroat him, eliciting a groan from deep within him.

"Fuck," he mutters, his voice strained, "what the hell are you doing?" But his question is more of a plea, his body betraying his words as he thrusts gently into your mouth, testing your willingness to submit. You respond by increasing your efforts, your throat massaging him, your nose brushing against his pubic hair.

The knight's hand moves from the bathtub to your head, his fingers entwining in your hair as he guides your movements, his control slipping as he grows more aroused. "Shit, you're good at this," he breathes, his hips bucking involuntarily as you bring him closer to the edge.

You feel his cock pulse in your mouth, the taste of pre-cum mingling with the oils from the bath. Your own body responds, the heat between your legs growing as you anticipate his climax. With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into your mouth, his release filling you with a sense of victory and shame, a cocktail of emotions that leaves you dizzy.

As he recovers, gasping for breath, the knight looks down at you, his expression a mix of awe and confusion. "I didn't expect that," he admits, his voice thick with residual lust. You remain silent, your eyes locked on his, an obedient posture.

The attendants return, breaking the moment, and help you stand. The knight steps back, his composure regained, though his eyes linger on you as you're led from the bathroom, the lead still in his hand, a reminder of your place.