"Dream Job..."
The leonine-bodied, massive monstergirl sighed in happiness, lounging on her couch in her very own office! A manticore was always a welcome guest in dark elven towns, but this was a turn of fortune.
Imagine getting paid for stinging cute human boys' butts!
Though the monstergirl empire, the "Reik" had other settlements with amenities fit for huge-bodied, lion-like, bipedal mamono known as Manticore, a word of the old Farsi mardkhora 'man-slayer', the lion-bat-scorpion hybrid girls often preferred to stay near dark elven cities for better access to humans to bully, toy, and have sex with. After all, the Svartalvar had all the vices more available to the myriad races of beast girls who thrived on said vices: drugs, spirits, and sex (the latter easily available due to the notorious slave trade the dark elves practiced)...
Nazara had her own office. An office, though small it was, had her name on a small sign!
The human maids that cleaned the place were courteous, and Nazara felt like tipping the ones who still wore slave collars to earn their freedom faster. Everything was clean and orderly.
She couldn't believe her luck. With a wage like that, and a free human population wandering the streets, human essence was easy. And some humans loved her soft, thick paws and furry curves instead of running with fear. She didn't even force them to have sex!
The work itself was, however, long and hard, like the cocks regularly being milked downstairs, the moans of young, nice male voices being like a drug to her.
Nazara could understand why her work was hard; it was an experimental, bondage-rich sperm farm treating men like livestock. The dark elves had put some of the less desirable men, and some mentally particularly submissive, young, weaker men to a repurposed cattle farm to continuously harvest these human men's "spirit essence" much like milking a cow.
Or bulls, to be more precise.
Usually, the mere presence of sexually charged humans was enough for abstemious monstergirls who don't use too much power, letting them live peacefully with humans. Dark elves, manticores, succubi, or other active mamono needed far more. Dragons, as noble and proud as they were, bought such pills formed from condensed human essence, paying the Svartalvar a fortune if they didn't have a harem of humans.
And Nazara now worked in a human sperm farm.
"Dream...Job..." The Manticore's cute face, similar to a human but with feline features and lion ears, settled in a look of bliss as she contemplated.
It still had rules.
She had to regularly pump her tail venom, similar to that of a scorpion, into a series of bottles, which would slowly age in her "office", which for the lack of a better word, was a mix between a bedroom and wine cellar.
She sometimes had to sting unruly boys' butts and men getting their balls drained, or males that were too tired to produce sperm. Sucking the slave boys' cocks or fucking them was not allowed, but she could bully and tease them to arouse them.
Not a bad job, she thought, checking the bottles and making sure the seals were tight, the timers for fermentation set; Manticore venom was an extremely powerful aphrodisiac and needed special containment to ferment to be used as inert injection material. Tonight was easy, so she could take a nap. Her cute fanged mouth opened in a yawn, and she was soon asleep on the couch. Perhaps she would, once her energy recovered, date that cute young human man she saw on the docks.
"Dream job..."
*-*-*-*
The succubus wore a surgeon's mask, hands gloved, hooved feet clad in white cotton leggings, slowly sauntering and observing the milking process, every step taken with deliberate slowness in her white doctor's gown.
Every row had dozens of men who were restrained naked like cattle in small stalls, snug but relatively comfortable with small padded joints securing their body weight comfortably, on all fours and asses up, faces often hidden behind aphrodisiac masks or bare-faced and gagged, the magic runes inside the stalls sustaining them until they could be released to sleep and recover to rotate with fresh "cattle".
Bare asses were present before the succubus "scientist", smiling as she watched each fully erect, dangling yet hard cocks being sucked inside perfectly snug vacuum cups, pumping their poor, reddened cock to painful orgasms every minute or so, the gouts of white seed being drained by thin hoses to the central machine for cleaning and refining into powerful mana pills. They were harvesting men's sperm, milking their balls like cattle; one's got to leave it to dark elves to mix farming and cattle rearing with highly sexualized human slavery.
Human slave women wearing similar hygienic gloves and masks would occasionally wipe the "cattle" sweat, often playfully tormenting their balls with squeezes, slaps, and pinches, their grins visible under their masks.
Some were volunteers from other owners, enjoying torturing men for a small handout to save up for freedom. Even better, Greba slowly reached out to frustrated, oppressed human women from other societies and had a small trickle of "female domination tourists", women who kept discretion and helped out at the facilities in return for enjoying milking men's prostates. Araby women and girls from wealthy overseas wearing heavily concealed dresses, masks, and veils loved to tease poor white boys.
A serious-faced dark elf assistant kept a notepad, noting sperm outputs while reading the machinery each helpless man was restrained into, ignoring their moans: to her, they were "assets", "cattle", just things.
"Output nominal." She nodded to the succubus, showing her flow charts.
"Head Slaver will be bringing fresh meat this week." The succubus replied, signing the notepad with a clawed hand and dismissing her. "Is the next wing ready? Greba wants another shift added to the circulation to reduce stress on existing cattle and increase output. Dragon Queen Dahaka wants to increase shipments to her lair."
"Construction is ready, slaves are installing the runes and tubes." The dark elf replied before leaving. "Next month, we'll even have a wing for milking women and dairy production, particularly minotaur and holstaurus females."
"Good."
The succubus turned to dozens of naked men moaning and wriggling, the cacophony of moans giving her spine small jolts of pleasure. Nearly a hundred poor men, making great sacrifices for frigid monstergirls, naked, turned to cum bulls, cocks constantly sucked by machinery and teased by visiting human women. The succubus nun would comfort and bless them every Sunday, praising the sacrifice they made, likening them to lambs of the goddess.
Human men made wither caring husbands, loving friends, failing that, good cattle. The monstergirl queendom wasted no lives after Agrat took over, though the empress would likely have issues with this establishment. Best to keep it a lightly guarded secret.
She heard a knock on the secure farm door and quickly turned around, thumping with her delicate hooves, her spade tail swishing, as she went to open it.
"Yes?" Her amber demon eyes squinted, trying to figure out who was before her.
A blonde, very small girl, barely an adult, wearing white robes and the white coat of a doctor, wearing a nurse's humble cap on her auburn-haired head, stood smiling.
"Grete Van Linden." She extended her hand for a shake, which the succubus reluctantly held and shook with a smirk. The existence of the facility was legal albeit hidden, though the treatment of human men inside grated on the Slave Code, and a human visitor with the official-looking garb of a doctor seemed too coincidental.
"I am...Well, Miss Greba guided me here. I am from the Haarlemite Association of Medicine, and my expertise with male health and urology might be of use to you, as well as my past raising cattle."
This made sense. The succubus' horned face turned to a genuine smile:
