Save a Cow Mil an Orc

Thump. Priscilla's head bounced limply off the minotaur's sinewy lower back as he strode with little effort down a hall made of stone and lit with torches. With each step, the brand on her ass cheek throbbed. She could feel his seed escaping and congealing at the top of her thighs where they met and she burned with shame and rage. How dare this monster think he could debase her this way, mock her role as a warrior saint, and act like he owned her? Her pilgrimage to atone for her recent sin awaited her. Priscilla twitched her external limbs and hope surged through her: the drug he'd given her must finally be wearing off. She had to get back, had to get out of this nightmare, had to--

Whomp. He dropped her onto the stone floor and stars exploded in her vision. As they cleared, she could make out bars and chains in the gloom around her. Her pilgrimage, her...sin. Suddenly the knowledge that her patron vulture, the Vulture of Blood, was punishing her for her crimes finally washed over her like an icy tide.

The minotaur secured her over a bench made of a single plank with iron legs. He cuffed her wrists and ankles to the floor on either side of her and ensured her breasts hung over the sides of the bench. For good measure, he twisted each nipple for several, painful minutes as she whimpered. Then he stuck a heavy cup onto each tit with his calloused fingers and pumped small levers to further suction the cups into place.

"For a new heifer, you've got gorgeous utters, sweetheart." He snorted in a way reminiscent of a bull. "I can't wait to see them swollen with milk."

She shuddered and balled her hands into fists, but her body was thawing too slowly. How was she to break the metal restraints? His hand balled into her hair, lifting her head before he propped it on his brown furred knees. A dick she knew from experience was a monster bulged much closer to her face than she'd ever have appreciated from a man, but that was not the minotaur's current intent.

"I've broken many cows." Priscilla was sure she'd heard him say that already. Did he know more lines? She immediately regretted asking herself that question. "They don't want food from us, especially since it'll change 'em eventually. Give 'em bigger utters, more calves. So they don't want the food, not at first, anyway." He paused to force her mouth open just enough to accept the tube he snaked gently down her throat. It tasted sour, like this wasn't its first trip down some poor creature's throat and it hadn't been washed since. "But then my little heifers always become good girls in the end. Once you get there, little heifer, you'll be allowed off this bench." Once he secured the tube, he rested her head back down and stood back to admire his work.

For the first time in what seemed like days, Priscilla could finally feel most of her body and she could finally move some of her muscles. But now her restraints and condition held her back. The tube was disturbingly foreign in her throat and she was afraid to move her head much in case it tore. She was desperate for him to remove it, but from all he said she was terrified he wouldn't. Forming words around the thing felt impossible, and her first attempt ended in a bubbling gurgle.

A sound vibrated his burly chest in what she realised was a chuckle. He walked into her view and she could see his bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers. "You look good like this, in your rightful place."

The minotaur lifted a jug into view, forced her head back, and poured slop the consistency of porridge into her feeding tube. He paused when she gagged and waited until her breathing steadied before emptying the rest of the jug. She heard him set it aside before he patted the brand on her ass cheek. Her stomach ached against the bench-plank and her body wanted so desperately to puke, but even as she thought it the nausea was subsiding. A warmth spread through her limbs and her thoughts swam pleasantly, as if she'd drank several large tankards of decent beer.

Her captor's cloven hooves clip-clopped on the floor as he left her there to digest in relative silence. A moment later, the torch flickering against the wall went out and her stall was plunged into darkness. Nearby, she thought she could hear what must have been the sounds of other hapless souls being fed. Whatever the warmth coursing through her limbs, it numbed her terror as well. She tried to think of ways to escape, but her thoughts were so hard to hold on to...

Priscilla didn't remember dozing off, but she woke to the sound of hoofsteps and the torch flickering to life. Her stomach was uncomfortably full. A low groan rumbled through her throat as her misery forced its way up. As if in response, a hairy arm reached into view to fiddle with the cups on her breasts. Instinct drove her to try and pull away, but her restraints merely creaked against the wooden bench. A gravelly chuckle came from behind.

"I want to fuck it while you milk it."

"Sure. Though Boss said it won't have any milk yet, this is just to get it used to the process, y'know?"

"Oh well."

His hands gripped her hips and lifted them the tiny bit allowed by the restraints. It was her only warning before his dick drove so deep and hard into her that the wall to her cervix exploded with pain. Her bellow of pain against the tube in her throat sounded so bovine that her shame burnt through any resistance still in her chest. She fell slack against the bench as the farmhand took his pleasure by leisurely drawing his rod back to her entrance and slamming it against the door of her womb over and over.

At her tits, the other farmhand had finished attaching pumps to the affixed cups and securing their tubes to clear jugs. He then began working the contraption and the suction painfully increased on her tits, but the tips of her nipples stung in a pleasing way. Suddenly, her body's reaction to the man pounding her from behind began to change, and his moans deepened as his pace quickened.

"The whore likes it!"

More shame flooded her so even the pain she was in lessened. His cock was getting thicker, spreading her more, and she was only getting wetter. The minotaur milking her smirked and pumped her tits faster, until small droplets started appearing at the ends of her nipples. For a moment, Priscilla saw nothing but white as the monstrous farmhands pulled an orgasm from her. And then the beast inside of her came in such a rush that the force of his seed pummeling her cervix while his girth rubbed at the edges of her g-spot had her cumming again. Her scream echoed in a hollow way through the tube in her throat.

A second later, the second farmhand was shoving his rock hard cock inside of her. The first farmhand, another minotaur, lazily pumped at her tits while he lounged on the floor beneath the bench. Maybe the second was taller, or his dick was shaped differently, but as he easily met the end of her cunt, he punched past the inside of her clit. Her eyes rolled back as the two continued the second round in much the same way as the first, unacknowledging her unless she amused them.

When she came to, she was no longer being milked, but someone was still fucking her. The minotaur felt less hairier than she remembered, and Priscilla had to wonder if a third farmhand had taken over. She felt his hot gush as he finished and blearily watched as he lifted her head and poured another jug of slop down her throat. Then, she was out of it again. Too fucked to feel embarrassed by the amount of liquids dripping onto floor beneath the bench.