They say that the feet are a gateway to every part of the body. The right pressure in the right spot can affect anything. Well it seems that this dragon’s body has even more buttons than most. For a start she’s not said a word since I pressed that one spot under her big toe, in fact her eyes are practically glazed over… thick draconic drool dripping off her chin in a viscous string.

I press curiously on her heel, a low growl rumbling out of the dragoness. I watch her balls visibly clench, a dribble of potently scented precum leaking from her slit. I press deep into the flesh, squeezing her heel like a pump, each press causing a small swell. The captive dragons claws curl as her body obeys these foreign commands, sack now visibly taut, balls throbbing and densely packed with potent seed. She lets out a deep huff of hot air, but it’s clear that the reaction is instinctual, mind still evidently empty.

I look into her dim eyes, head tilting with curiousity, unsure if she’s fully gone, or stuck as a captive spectator. In the end it doesn’t matter, what’s clear is she’s unable to act. I slip a clawed finger into her slit carefully, pawpad rubbing slowly across her tip, collecting some of her pre. I smirk as I sample the taste, potent musk lighting up my tastebuds. Her cock doesn’t so much as twitch, it’s clear only those footpaws control her now.

A devious grin crossed my maw, my sharp teeth glistening in her blank eyes reflection. I leave her bedroom with purpose, loud clattering and rustling audible as I search eagerly for the item that springs to mind. I return, a nail file clutched tightly in my paw. I studiously sharpen her claws, each successive claw causing her muscles to contract and swell, maw elongating to accommodate more teeth and a longer, more tactile tongue, tail growing thicker and longer, spine stretching, but eyes still blank and lifeless. A big drooling beast, sack laying heavy on the floor, enlarged and shapened footpaw still held in my paws, in my control.