Wet heat rose in mist off glossy streets, running with water, a rainbow road painted by burning neon, haunted by steaming figures both real and projected.

Two such figures huddled close, trotting quick with wet claws and soaked plastic-covers, the constant drip of condensation from the mile tall buildings deluging just as thoroughly as any natural tropical shower. The taller of the pair kept the smaller clutched by the shoulder, and any eavesdropper would struggle to hear her constant stream of whispered assurance beneath the din of the twilight city.

"It'll be fine, darling, I swear. And it's good credits, it'll keep you off the street when I'm not around."

Honeysuckle didn't say why that might be, the frilled gecko didn't need to. There were many ways a person might vanish in the undercity, and even the band about her neck was scant protection when the dwellers in the damp were most hurt by circumstance.

Undercity, yet once it had been ground level. But as the city rose, those at the bottom sank, the needed underclass. Hyacinth had been born to that world, where sunlight only came at the apex of the day, splitting the henge of monolithic spires to boil moisture into plumes of caged clouds. She was un-collared, unclaimed by any greater power, and so no-one would notice should the smaller reptile simply disappear one day. But that wasn't what had her feel so unsure and unsteady, leaning on her mother's side as they traversed the small distance from the hyper-line station to their destination. It was the feeling of nakedness beneath the clear plastic barrier, her white scales almost bare, delicates hidden by her mother's hand-me-downs. A cup here, a length of "gold" chain there, barely a scrap of polyester in between it, if anything was likely to have her snatched, it would be the sheer provocation that was her body at that moment. While Honeysuckle wore nothing with confidence, her daughter thought longingly of her closet.

The pair stopped, the glow from below had shifted to gold and blue, dominated by the edifice above them. Sleek black glass, modern obsidian, buttressed by golden ornaments of fruits, flowers, and natural scenes now alien to the wildlife of the city. Neuvo-baroque, garish in gilt and glittering pixel lights, the doors a stylised gate from an ecclesiastical scene. The entrance to paradise, to the gardens, of Club Manna.

"Here we are, come on, Master Goldenrod will love you, I'm sure."

She hurried her daughter forward, up slick steps and beneath the awning, escaping the dripping heat, and entering a drier warmth. An assault of sounds was unleashed, animal cries and synthetic music, high paced dance and artificial simulacra of long dead nature, a cacophony drowning out reality, crafted to one mind and taste.

Master Goldenrod.

Hyacinth felt that name on her tongue, a shiver in her frill as she thought of her mother's master, soon to be her own, should he take her. He was a Gilded One, once a person like themselves, but so rich, powerful, important, that he had been almost entirely remade with the best technology could offer. They ran the city, the country, perhaps the world as far as she knew, and in their quasi-immortality they indulged in every aspect of culture and business. That was what club Manna was. One more plaything in his collection, and her mother was one more jewel adorning that toy.

Wet raiments shed, vanished in vacuum tubes, each woman stood glistening in her pearlescent splendour beneath the UV heavy light. It would have been deadly, if not for the Gilded One's benevolence. Mother and daughter were both rare, natural-born albinos, protected from the burning radiation by the subtle lacquer on their scales that turned dull and delicate grey into gleaming white. Paid for, by Master Goldenrod.

A bouncer, heavily augmented and built to show it, rolled a cybernetic eye over each. Red laser light landed on the shining golden circlet about Honeysuckle's neck, confirming what the Dobermann's biological organ already knew.

"Big night tonight Honey, this yer girl?"

Smiling brightly, sashaying now she was free of the constraining plastic, Honeysuckle moved like the work of art she was as her claws tickled a metal bicep.

"Hi Bones, didn't think you'd be on tonight. Is He expecting us yet?"

The remaining flesh ear flapped on the Bones’s head, flushed red in the moment, failing to notice the lack of an answer.

"Uh, yeah, you're both cleared, just go right up. Uh, hey, maybe when you're free later, you and me, if you're..."

She silenced him with a tap on the nose, standing on tip toe to reach, practically draping her barely covered curves against his chest. "You be good and look out for my daughter now, and enjoy the show, okay Bonesy~"

Unable to keep up, the slab watched the pair vanish into the inner sanctum of the club, watching two gleaming tails and sets of shimmering hips, while wondering if he could find someone to cover for him before he missed the show.

Beyond the inner door was a madness only money could make. Flashing light in every colour, walls modelled to resemble trees, thick fibre carpet in the colour and even scent of extinct grass. And most beguiling of all, the real attractions, the dancers.

Exotic breeds every one of them, and those that weren't exotic enough had been made more so. It wasn’t just a Zebra twirling on her pole, flashing her tail and mane, she was a unicorn with a horn that strobed her body in multicoloured light. The Hawk in the cage, gyrating and swinging his girth, was instead a gryphon, lower body rebuilt flawlessly in the facsimile of a powerful feline.

And all around, jostling the two almost plain women as they crossed the crowded floor, was a milling, slathering horde eager to own any one of the menagerie for just a few minutes of their lives. And as if on instinct, Honeysuckle transformed to drink in and soak in that gaze. Her saunter was pure seduction, with her tail curled just so to suggest it might lift at any moment. The roll of her shoulders had her frill bounce and wave as well as any head of hair. She flowed and flounced, while her daughter struggled not to feel self-conscious in her wake.

Smaller, more timid, and hiding her delicates with her tail dragged about herself, Hyacinth hurried to keep up as they made for the far wall, where a gilded cage lift waited, flanked by a pair of uncompromising synthetics. The machines flared to life at their approach, but yet again the golden collar bought them passage, and each gecko stepped inside the unnervingly delicate framework of painted steel, and were whisked skyward above and away from the crowd.

"Relax more Hyni, you've had plenty of practice, it won't be long now."

Licking her dry lips, Hyacinth tried to take comfort in her mother's words. But she could swear she heard as much nervousness in that voice, as she felt in her own body. Honeysuckle had invested as much into training her daughter as she had to raising her, and clearly even she now doubted if she had done enough. But still, her fidgeting and preening made the younger reptile worried that there was more at stake than just an employment opportunity.

Eventually, the lift cage passed from the sight of the audience below, into blissful silence. Warm yellowed light shone off walls of black and yet more gold. The floor was carpeted in a deep mauve, stretching to either side in a seemingly endless corridor. But where they were headed was obvious, as no sooner did they alight onto the plush fabric, did the mother take her daughter by the claw, and tug her to the high framed door across from them.

She took one last moment to turn, fuss the younger reptile, adjust the concealing cups and check she had no chipped scales, before huffing, turning her pink eyes to the door, and knocking on the onyx surface.

"Enter, dear Honeysuckle," the noise reverberated out of the very walls, hidden speakers conveying that confident purr clearly as if the owner was standing right beside them. Mechanisms unlatched, and the way swung open.

Hyacinth's breath hitched, expecting wild sights of techno-arcanery, devices alien and known only to the Gilded Ones. It was relieving, yet also set a new strand of tension in her, to see the immaculate office beyond, with its plain desk of black, it's frescoes of climbing trees, and its simplistic furnishings of sofa's, armchairs, and only a dancing pole in the corner to betray the interests of the man that owned it all.

Though perhaps it was because that "Man" was all the ornamentation the spacious interior needed. Master Goldenrod didn't hide or downplay his status as a Gilded One, he flaunted it. He glistened, gold. The layers of synthetic skin that comprised his inorganic body contrived to make him a statue of precious metal, every seem in his augmented exterior was cunningly hidden in muscle-lines and sculpted details.

Like the people he owned, he had remade himself as exotic, a creature of myth. Curled horns atop his head, a ridge of pliable spines, two glowing eyes that shone internally, long snout that ended in a hooked, beak-like nose; the golden dragon reclined with all the confidence of his legendary inspiration.

Dressed in an impeccable black suit, his chest was bear beneath the jacket, showing the art that had gone into his conversion from simple meat, to the cutting edge of technological immortality.

"Ah, my favourite dancer, and your daughter as well I see," his voice oozed into the air, like oil across a pond, heavy, slow, and yet somehow soothing in its texture.

"Y-yes Master," Honeysuckle nodded, claws about her daughter's shoulders, dragging her up and to the fore, presenting her to the dragon. "This is Hyacinth, she's very excited to meet you," she spoke for the nervous girl, who could only nod in agreement as her eyes flicked to and from the figure to the floor.

He did not seem to mind, waving a clawed hand beneficently. "I am sure, and I look forward to seeing her perform. Speaking of which, Honeysuckle, I do believe you have a very special show to get to. Return to me when you are finished, her interview will be concluded by then."

Needing no more encouragement, Honeysuckle spared her daughter one last look that seemed both pained and concerned, a brave smile attempted, before she vanished back through the door, and away to her audience.

Hyacinth felt pinned beneath that golden gaze, even as the dragon reclined in an affectation of casual ease, broad smile showing the perfect teeth of his synthetic body.

"Relax," his drawl shook her body, "your mother and I have known each other years, I would do nothing to jeopardise the relationship with my treasured star."

Awe struck, she stayed rigid and watching, giving a shy smile of her own as her tail twitched uncertainly.

"Your mother has said you are an excellent dancer," he continued, flicking himself upright with the faint hum of machinery, impossibly precise and otherworldly, not a motion wasted. "I'd like to see it, if you are to be joining my garden. That is, what you want, is it not?"

Hurriedly, Hyacinth nodded and spluttered out exactly that, and how grateful she was for the opportunity, gushing about the honour of meeting him, being in the same space as him, and how amazing and-

Chuckling, the machine man slid around the side of the desk, a warm claw catching her babbling chin and tilting her pink eyes to look into the immaculate works of art that were his own.

"The pleasure is all mine. You are just like your mother, and I have high hopes you will be just as talented," his hand, warmer than a natural body, and softer than the metallic exterior suggested, drifted down her neck to brush the scant scraps that covered her. "And already dressed like her, but of course, missing the most important accessory."

She hadn't realised she'd been holding her breath, not till his free hand came around before her, holding a simple circlet. Gold, rounded edges and smooth, a collar just like her mother's, his mark of ownership.

"Try it on, see if you are ready yet, little flower. Do not be afraid, it will just be... to complete the look."

It dangled there, perfect in his perfect fingers, held just beneath her snout, ready to slip beneath her frills, to clip into place, to make her just like her mother. All she had to do was...

Shivers running through her, a confusion of fright and desire, Hyacinth accepted it into her hands. It hummed there, cool and heavy, but more than that... she could almost feel Master Goldenrod through it.

"S-so, if I put it on..." her hesitation got the better of her, about to take perhaps the most important decision of her life.

"It will not mean anything, until your contract is signed. I wish to see you, Hyacinth, perform for me, to show me that you have what it takes to step into paradise. If you put it down now, then I will have you escorted home, and nothing will be the matter."

In a decision made with more bravery than she'd thought herself capable of, the collar snapped around the gecko's neck, fitting perfectly in every aspect. It felt cold for a few more heartbeats, before a warmth, and a comfort came from the weight. Relief at her choice, rolled into a soothing wave as the extravagant device purred into life.

"There," the Gilded one leaned back, admiring her, "now you look just as I remember. Relax, and when you are ready, your stage awaits." His golden talons gestured in a broad wave towards the pole, and she knew just what was expected of her.

As she mounted the small rise, claws reaching out in eagerness to the cool brass, he flowed into the opposing sofa, the real leather moulded around him as he settled with an attentive eye upon her.

A steady calm settled in her mind. She'd practised for this moment for years, there was nothing she need worry about, the metal was smooth and frictionless, perfectly steady. She'd rehearsed dozens of dances, dozens of combinations and tricks, the only difference was that this wasn't her apartment, and the person watching was not her mother.

"Turn for me, so I may admire your front."

The instruction came, and she did so, gladly, feet leaving the floor as she spun and gripped the pole by her tail and hands, small breasts bared for inspection, giddy expression as she drank in the pleasure of being appreciated. And why shouldn't she be? She was every bit as pretty as her mother, perhaps more so as she was still naturally young, without the slightest rejuvenation treatment. So why shouldn't she preen?

Gyrating and bending, she climbed the pole, muscles she'd toned just for this now taut beneath her iridescent scales. She flashed her underbelly, and Master Goldenrod hummed in a way she found deeply reassuring.

"Very good," his praise tickled her tympanum, her frill fluttering in blush at the admiration she heard there. "Let me see more, you have a fine rear end, show it to me Hyacinth, impress me."

His grin flashed, sharp and perfect, eyes glittering in their moulded housings as the reptile bent herself double, back muscles stretching and belly flexing, to expose everything, till he clapped for her to reverse and do it again.

She felt the collar warm, not uncomfortably, and somehow that warmth sank into her mind. The worries of the day, of the city, of her lessons and life, all felt so distant with him. The den of the dragon was detached from the world she scurried through, letting her finally be free to relax, and revel in what she knew she was good at, what she was best for.

That thought felt mildly uncomfortable, creeping in at the edge, but what of it in the moment? She had something more important to focus on. That Goldenrod wanted to watch, he wanted her, and that was something to bask in.

He said as much, and Hyacinth craved more, spinning about on the pole to drink in that look, tail and frill raised for inspection, the smile on her own face, as his hum became deeper and warmer, a purring lion that shook through her scales.

"Excellent, very impressive little flower. But I tire of costumes, do you know how to strip for an audience?"

He'd stood up, claws pulling away his jacket so smoothly it fell like water. In her daze of staring at the godly vision of gold, she almost missed what he'd asked for, before his voice called again in that warm velvet that shivered through her head.

"Y-yes, of course, mi-Master Goldenrod."

A warm and soothing digit passed down her tail, a paternal chuckle as she stammered through the proper title for him.

"Stay relaxed, breath calm, and slow for me. Show me why I should accept you," the digit drifted to her chin, tilting her snout up with more tenderness than any machine had a right to possess. "You will make your mother very proud if you do well, I assure you, Hyacinth."

Shivers rolling over her, Hyacinth slid from the pole, landing with a single smooth and yet sensual roll, before backing up so it formed the prop she posed against.

As she took a calm, steadying breath, just as he suggested, her worries faded away again. She was warm enough anyway, and the simple discs did little to make her any less naked. Her fingers rose along her belly, lavishing the lacquered scales in long strokes before alighting on the flimsy chain that held the sorry excuse for a bra in place. It snapped in a moment, torn free by a toss of her hand to flash her pert young breasts, before her fingers traced upwards into the frill that rippled around her jaw.

Hyacinth stayed steady, arms out to the side so Master Goldenrod could appreciate the effort she had made for him. Yes, for him. The polish in her scales, the training of her body, the routines she had learnt. All of it was for him really. And right now, he was a spectator worth impressing, eyes glowing and flickering in shades as rich as his wealth.

She dared meet that golden stare with her own, smiling brightly as she displayed all her work to his admiring gaze.

"Beautiful," he rewarded her. "But do not stop. All my dancers must expect a degree of audience participation. Dance, and do not allow my gaze, or touch, to distract you further."

Rolling her hips, Hyacinth obeyed, stepping about the small stage as she turned and swirled, her scales brushing the cool brass which kissed a naked nipple. She loved the stage, how it felt like her domain, her territory, a bubble in which she could be what she was meant to be.

Her tail rose up, fingers brushing the tip as it lashed the air, a playful gesture that showed the last scraps obscuring her cloaca.

Master Goldenrod circled, his presence a thrill and comfort now. His claws ran up her sides as he did, but only for a moment at a time, letting her grow used to the attention. "Such grace," his praise raised her tail all on its own, or was that the claw tracing down its length? "You are a natural at this, little flower, perfectly cultivated for my garden. Do not forget, breathe steady, and dance."

A single claw found the strap she knew everything rested upon. It snapped as quickly as the last, flung off her hips and away from them both, leaving her body bared to him as she effortlessly worked it into her spin, resting coquettishly with legs curled tight to the steadfast metal.

Frill fully out, she was a flower around a stalk, drinking in his gaze like the rays of the sun, and his praises like precious rain. She could not help but love the feeling now, so warm and exhilarating. She'd never shown herself to anyone like this, but the anxiety she thought would be overwhelming was crushed beneath that steady heat, the anticipation of his next praise. All she had to do was dance, breathe like he instructed, show him she was worthy, and that adoration would pour forth over her again.

"Yes, that is what I wish to see," his warm palms roamed her back, her hips, her rump, "do not be distracted, work with your audience, let them enjoy every inch, make them desire you."

Desire her, was that truly her wish? Her pink eyes flickered to those glowing, molten, golden ones, and all she knew was that she desired him, she wanted to make him happy, wanted that warmth to never end.

Her fingers wrapped about the pole again, legs stretched and back bared, and all to let his claw trace the curve of her bum till it could run the length of her tail. It did, and on the smooth flow back towards her rump, the other hand came with it, each cupping a shining globe in a way that was undoubtedly intimate, and only had her blush and gasp in response.

"Very good, at times your audience will limit what you may do, but that does not mean you have to stop, just adjust. Now, show me how flexible you can be, when I restrain you in this way." His hands tightened about her rear, claws teasing ever lower as he circled her tail base. And, obediently, the gecko leant into the pose, bent herself double and yet doubled further, rear not stopping the gyration from side to side.

Everything was fine, he was pleased with her, all she had to do was dance, breathe, and work with her audience. It was perfectly fine that he drew closer, comforting really, his perfect skin was smoother and warmer than any natural body could be. The clink of something metal wasn't anything she had to think about, she just had to bend, prostrate, demonstrate, for him.

Heat bathed her hips again, and somewhere lower, as two firm and yet supple lengths teased and tapped her scaly undercarriage.

She almost spoke up, it was in the back of her throat, that it was the first time a man would touch her like that, and yet the collar hummed so soothingly, and she remembered, breathe steady, show him all her talents, impress him so that he would sign her to his garden.

And Master Goldenrod knew what he was doing, fingers stroked either side of her, stretching her stance just a fraction wider till her vent was visible. She had nothing to worry about, it felt right, her audience wanted this from her, just breathe and let him define her motions.

The heat grew as those digits that stroked her slit teased with a promise she had not realised her body needed. It felt slick there, naturally so, like her body was wet, prepared for him, for his desires, his praise and pleasure, all for her if only she did not worry, if she stayed as she was, presenting, offering.

"Adjust your pose, lower. Tail high, as if to touch your own nose."

She felt an echo of a thought, a shiver, knowing that would leave her completely exposed. Her opening would be poised just at the right height for... something. But, she found herself doing it anyway, wishing to please, and to hear him say she had.

Hyacinth strained the muscles in her back, fingers slipping down the pole all the way to the base, as her neck arched, and her tail curved, up, over, in a crescent moon, towards her raised snout. The ache that came had her gasp, lungs compressed and her breathing becoming hard snorts as she willed herself to obey, to not disappoint.

"Very good, hold there," the golden voice slipped about her ears again and she smiled, pain suppressed as she could see from the top of her inverted gaze the look of pleasure on the Gilded One's radiant face. Pride swallowed her senses, and not just from seeing those immaculate teeth. He had come closer, and the heat of his hips kissed her bottom cheeks, and something else as well. Smoother than oil on scales, twin rods graced her underbelly, gliding across her exposed nethers, sending a hum through her core from their impossible machinery.

She should have protested, for anyone else she would have done so, but craning her neck to look into his eyes, to see the broad smile, had her pressing her lips tight. Those lengths slipped over her in the rhythm of a dance, rubbing either side of her cloaca, both sizeable enough to span from her cleft to her ribs.

A tremble escaped her, imagining them, what they must look like, the ridges and curves, the feeling of bulges at their base. Her virgin hole, only touched by her mother, would it be able to accommodate even one of them? Did she wish to?

Did he wish her to?

"Do not move, do not allow your audience to distract you. Simply breathe, and move as directed." His words washed through her head, soothing her racing heart and scattered thoughts, till they were her focus, just her audience, Master, she had to breath and dance, no distractions.

Beautiful fire touched her cloaca, finding the barest purchase, easing apart the opening with a pointed tip, something she had not imagined yet, but now perfectly belonged there, scraping her scales, seeking entrance to...

"You're holding your breath," his claws moved, tracing ribs, higher, holding her steady, supporting her like a loving Master would. "Allow me, breathe out. Good~, now wait... and, in."

Air kissed her lungs, and that burning tip squeezed cleanly through her ring. Stretching muscles that had only passed small eggs, the girth of that spear of light sent ripples of rewarding pleasure rolling up her spine and into her heart and mind, while its twin stroked her belly like an extra limb, imparting heat and measuring just how deep he was. And deeper still he went, till Hyacinth gasped out, eyes rolling into the back of her head at the impossible fullness and pressure inside her vent. Her first time, and it was right that he took it, but she couldn't find words or thoughts to put to it.

She couldn't disappoint, couldn't break from his instruction, even as her belly bulged faintly, and her walls clenched in natural protest. All she could do was hold her pose, and move her hips in dance.

"Delightful," a purr rolled through her head, soothing, praising, all was well, all she had to do was dance. "Now, ride, but only your hips, do not strain yourself, but continue."

Hyacinth obeyed, rolling her belly and rear just so, feeling Master Goldenrod withdraw a fraction before filling her anew. The queasy feeling of wrongness dulled with each pulse of pleasure, that came not just from the shaft of perfect synthetic dragon meat, but also the heavy, warm collar about her neck. She had pleased him, she was pleasing him still, and would continue to, if only she obeyed him, danced as he instructed, followed his guidance.

The heat from his penis, the vibration she could feel resonating through her belly, its tip now touching the back wall of her sex. She knew, deep down, that she was in pain, should have been, but it was so distant, so quiet, she could only hear the soft gasp of her own venting lungs, and the machine purr of his muscles.

A thrust sent a wave through her, hips jerking in the dance, rear bouncing, frill waving as Master Goldenrod shifted himself. She could hear the pleasure in his growl, the joy, she was blooming just for him, a precious thing for his eyes alone.

"Delightful. Relax," he spoke into her ear, leaning in across her back, warm, dry tongue kissing the sensitive skin, "your dance is perfect, little flower, keep moving. Do not worry, all is as it should be."

His hips slammed up into her again, and again, pace rising, and with it her own blissful acceptance. This was Master Goldenrod's decision, he wished to see how she danced, see how flexible she was, and she was dedicated to proving she could. Even as her thoughts became more muddled, the sensations more forced, his claws moved from her breast to her hips, and dug in tight. She didn't want to disappoint, she didn't dare disobey.

Words such as "Beautiful", "Stunning", and "Perfect", had her shudder in far more pleasure than the penetration itself. Though that was intense in it's own way. Not just deep, and hot, the piercing object was ridged along its underside, something she felt with each return stroke, sawing her open further and further, grinding nerves that began to sing for her, even though she was as silent as she could be. She would not disobey, only breathe, and relax, and dance.

"You are performing wonderfully," and again she glimpsed nirvana at his words, "and I believe you are ready for more, do not fail me now, little flower."

That was all the warning she received, before those two strong hands about her hips, tugged, and lifted, and she was flying upwards while still lanced on that painful- That Amazing, cock. It dug deeper as she moved, her breath hitching as it kicked the air from her lungs, but on an instinct she swung with that same motion, as if some alien instruction puppeted her. A shining white thigh spun, up and over, as she twisted in the dragon's claws, till she was astride his waist, looking up in forced adoration at the visage of her Master.

"Very good," his voice rumbled through her whole frame, as he held her close to his honey-coloured chest.

She smiled, a small tear in her eyes as he dug ever deeper, forcing her body to stretch and accommodate him. She could now see the monstrous- The Divine, object that was penetrating her. It's twin was more than she'd imagined, glowing in the colours of the sun, the underside wickedly ridged, the head a hooked tip, and at its base had a bulge she'd expect more on a dog than a reptile. But then, he was not anything to be found in nature. The rod that split her cloaca was bright enough she could see it pulse within her, illuminating her own insides, hot as a sauna, both supple and rigid, flexing her with a will of it’s own to stretch every muscle internally.

He carried her about the room, helping her to buck up and down with each step, soft cries now breaking her silence as the pleasure and pain both overwhelmed the soothing presence in her head. She knew for certain that something was happening, some other power had a hold of her thoughts, but she couldn't help it, couldn't stop it. On her own volition her legs curled about his back, gripping tight for balance as she slammed her protesting sex down again and again, desperate to have that swell at the base sink in, to fill her, complete her, make her...

Make her-

"Be a good dancer," a chuckle made the gecko spasm in joy, his grin full of heat and desire and love as he flashed perfect teeth just for her, "show me you were worth raising Hyacinth. Show me you are worth my collar. Let go, let it all out, be perfect, my spectacular little flower~."

Her orgasm was a searing flare of light, her walls milking that impossibly stiff rod with all their might, clenching and fluttering till he growled deep and pressed her down, base and all finally burying inside her, and something molten poured into her with both a volume and pressure unmatched by biology.

She felt used.
She felt complete.
She felt everything rush back strong enough to have her gasp, weep, and moan.

He sat down behind his desk again, the stunned young woman still glued to his front, the unspent member resting warmly between her breasts as she hutched into his belly, like a small child in their father’s arms.

A little time passed as she recovered from the intensity, just enough that she was aware when the door opened again, and a familiar voice reached her.

"Does she please you, Master?"

Honeysuckle hovered nervously at the entrance, filthy from her work, the fluids of many sophonts painting her scales. She had rushed back to his side the moment her performance was done, needing to see, and hear, what the Gilded One thought.

Humming deeply, the dragon stroked her daughter's back in a companionable fashion, the touch forcing calm though the recumbent body even as it’s mind struggled to surface.

"She does indeed, dear Honeysuckle. Your daughter will make a fine addition to my garden."

The woman practically collapsed where she stood, steadying herself on the chair across from them both as her knees knocked and her shoulders slumped.

"T-then I... it's... we're done?"

Her voice was desperate and pleading, and it was met with a chuckle that sounded so pleasant to the entranced woman on the dragon's lap, that it was difficult to cling to the urgency in her mother’s tone.

"We are," his talons moved, withdrawing a tablet from the desk, "simply sign here. The same terms as your own."

Honeysuckle hurried forward eagerly, weakness forgotten as she pressed her thumb to the touchpad, the device chiming acceptance, while Hyacinth's brain slowly came back to wakefulness. The contract signed, her mother gave a gasp, and a clatter filled the quiet office.

A golden collar slipped, and fell upon the desk, the woman running shaking hands around her neck, scales long trapped exposed to the open air for the first time in years.

"Thank you, for your service, dear Honeysuckle. Your payment and credentials are waiting at the front desk, I wish you a good, fulfilling life. You have earned it."

The older gecko spluttered, eyes wet, body unsure and shaking. She turned on unsteady legs, sparing only a single, horrified and sorrowful glance to her daughter still atop her former master's lap before making for the door. She almost made it before his words stalled her, making her flinch, unable to disobey even without the golden band.

"She is alive, if you still wish to find her. It seems a shame to spoil the moment with bitterness, but you are free to do with your life, whatever you like."

Honeysuckle did not reply, her head bowed to hide her expression, as she finally left the room for good.

Hyacinth didn't feel anger, or grief, or pain. But she knew she should, and that knowledge couldn't be taken away by the collar that synched itself snugly about her throat. Her mother left without a single word to her, not even a goodbye, and she knew deep down that she would not be back. She'd been given away, no, sold away, in return for what? For a life without her own daughter, a life she'd now consigned her own blood to. Hyacinth wanted to shout, cry, and scream, even if the emotions behind such things were stolen from her, but most of all she wanted to beg the woman that had raised her to stay.

"Do not begrudge her this," the cruel, godly figure whispered in her ear, his twin rods withdrawing with mechanical precision into a near invisible slit. "She has waited for this day, for fifty-six years. Let her enjoy her new life."

He stood, and placed her down on the desk, where her gaping cloaca leaked down the length of her own tail. Even his spend glittered gold.

Master Goldenrod retrieved the discarded ring, and opened a panel on the wall. It slid open to reveal a painting of a tree, and many, many golden hoops hanging from it. He placed Honeysuckle's collar alongside the rest, in a groove that was waiting ready for it.

"And should today's efforts succeed, you will be in her place in a few years time," the panel closed, and he stood before her again, naked and radiant and terrible. "But if the fruit you bear is not quite ripe, then we will have many chances ahead of us."

His claws stroked the gold collar, the proof that she belonged to him. And yet, no anger, or horror, or sadness stirred from her mind. Her expression was frozen in a soft smile, eyes glazed and distant, even as her thoughts chased a shadow of emotion that simply wouldn't rise to the surface.

Her dry lips worked, and all she could say was "Thank you, Master Goldenrod."