Walking down the stairs to the basement, the stifled moans and groans of the livestock never failed to bring a smile to the Master's face. Unlocking the heavy wooden doors, The muffled noises soon became a loud constant ambiance as the Master walked past two rows of stainless steel cages. inside each one, a man with his arms and legs lashed to the cages and a chair under their stomachs to keep them in the milking position. Each one had a hose hooked onto his penis and was milking the creamy cum straight from his overworked, smooth glistening balls.
"#233. Looks like your output is satisfactory, although you haven't been eating all your food. Anything to say for yourself?"
Looking up, #233 glared at the Master as the machines started to warm up again. His eyes tried to keep level with the Master, but soon succumbed to the unyielding milking machine. Straining against his bonds, #233 groaned and started thrusting his hips to rhythm of the suction. A bright red ball gag kept #233 from saying anything more than a moan that sounds remarkably like a moo.
"Good boy, now if you would always eat with that same energy we wouldn't have any problems. Do you remember the food tube? If you don't eat properly, I'll be forced to use it again. Is that what you want? "
The look of fear shot across #233's face when even the mentioning the food tube. The food tube was the only way to force feed uncooperative animals. The process involves snaking a tube down your throat and filling you up with liquid food mash. Not the most pleasant meal at all, but it kept them fed and healthy. Livestock live and die by their master's will.
"Now, keep up the good work, boy. Maybe I'll let you out with the other's to graze this afternoon. But if you continue this rebellious attitude, I can't trust you with the herd and will need to give you...special attention. Would you like that, boy?"
Shaking his head back and forth, #233 remembered the others that received "special attention". The last one was a big burly man, lumber jack chested with biceps that were thicker than my waist. He seemed to break every cage he was in. At last, the Master had enough and took the big guy aside. No one knows quite what happened, but when the master came back, he had a new puppy named Spot heeling and fetching like a good dog. Hell, he even panted and begged for table scraps sitting on his hind legs like a dog. His thick cock swinging between his legs. Sometimes the master would attach a leash to the balls and would take him on walks in public. The Master uses him now to herd the livestock and watch over us so that we don't escape. Whatever happened, #233 couldn't have wanted to be a mindless minion at the Master's beck and call...could he?
Straining his neck to reach the food bowl, #233 finished the rest of his uneaten porridge. The Master watched in silence as #233 slobbered his way through the mash and even licked his bowl clean.
