Chapter One
My knees and wrist are aching and burning. I've been standing in this position for a good thirty minutes. I'm on my hands and knees, back arched, face downwards, ass slightly elevated. My dick is being pulled downward by the weight of the small lock on the cage it is contained in. It is nearly always contained, ever since I first stepped foot in this place. The cage only gets removed when the mistress wants to remove it. She's the only person who holds the key.
Today is this weeks milking session. Which is why I am in this position in the first place. My mistress' assistants are making their rounds amongst the slave quarters. Soon it will be my turn.
We, the males, all get milked once a week, if we have no transgressions. You see, all slaves have a number. I am number 7. If you perform well and obey, you can stay out of trouble relatively well. There will be pain and discomfort, but nothing more than the daily doings.
If you do anything wrong, a mark gets placed by your number. Based on the transgression, consequences will be given. One offense means no milking sessions for two weeks. Two means no solid food for a week. Three means no outside time, four means isolation, and so forth. The punishments are decided by our mistress, and will always include a minimum of one corporal punishment as well, to make us remember 'our place'.
My dick twitches as I hear the footsteps approaching. They are currently working on my neighbor-slave, number 6. Soon it will be my turn. I feel my dick straining against its cage, trying to harden in anticipation of the milking. We have been conditioned that way. The milkings always happen on the same day at the same hour. Soon enough, your body and mind start to anticipate it and react accordingly. I grunt as the cage gets more and more tight. Pre-cum is starting to leak out of the small opening on top. Almost my turn now...