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Pavlor sat in the room and was forced to watch no less than twelve pets total being sentenced to the milking room. The orca running this show was enjoying the mental anguish that the canine was enduring, and seemed to get off on it on multiple levels.

When all was done, Pavlor was leashed and pulled up by the sadistic orca. He gripped the lead in his fist, pulling the canine close and glaring into his eyes. "Now, little slave," he said as if appraising a rough diamond, "unless you want to join those in the milking room, I suggest you be a good boy and follow orders." The collar was choking Pavlor slightly, but he held his ground and just stared back. "I think some Class C training should do you some good." The orca gave a crooked smirk; the lower half of his right side did not seem to want to curl up.

Pavlor knew that saying anything was inappropriate, so instead he clung to the feeble thought that his owner, whoever he was, would come and rescue him. Something nagged him about it whenever he tried to remember who it was who had owned him. Small flashes would streak through his mind, just long enough to get a glimpse of his face. He remembered the bed, the warmth and comfort he felt in the big, black and white arms, the soft tone of his voice as he whispered into his ear. An emotion sprung up inside him, something that made him feel watched and protected still, though he knew not from where it came.

Down the corridors they walked, passing by windows and doors in the white hallways. Some of these windows were mirrored, and the activities going on inside, if any, were impossible to see, while others would have been better left to the imagination.

One showed two pets, both canines, strung upside-down on tables and being given what looked like painful injections in their nether regions. He was sure the muzzles placed on them and the wet matting around their eyes had little to do with pleasure. Another showed a room with a large metallic machine, barely anything around the outside except displays and a monitor or two. A conveyor was bringing in pets from one side, looking visibly shaken and scared, and pets coming out the other end of this forty-foot machine, shaved, erect, looking post orgasmic and blank. Others Pavlor had not the courage to peek through.

They stopped at a door with a detail guard on the outside, each guard flanking the door. The stepped slightly apart to allow them entrance into the room.

The orca Pavlor was with went in first, entering the room where a huge array of mechanical arms hung from a central disk in the ceiling, and a large, padded table was in the center. Two orcas were in the room, one was manning a large control panel, and the other was at attention stiffly near the table.

Pavlor's legs wanted less and less to move to the table, but he had little choice in such matters right now. He obediently, yet reluctantly, walked to the table with the one holding his leash.

"Sir, welcome Sir. Conditioning program C was your request?"

The orca nodded, turning his head to smirk possessively at the canine. "Yes, don't want this one getting away, plus such a prized specimen, I could make hundreds off him as a breeding pup."

Pavlor's expression shifted to terrorized curiosity, and a response to his unasked question was given. By the tone of the orca's voice, it was obvious the only reason he explained was to cause distress.

"You're going to be conditioned for breeding cycles three times a year, slave. It will take a little time to condition those nuts to produce as much as we need for it so they wont shrivel up to nothing before your time's done." Then the orca's hand came out and snatched Pavlor's arm as he tried to jerk away. "Then we can turn you into a pack animal, and get the rest of our money's worth from you. I think you'll do well, with muscle conditioning as well. Get him ready for some time in the fields."

"I won't work for you," Pavlor said defiantly.

The orca raised his eye ridge a bit and stared back, amused. "Oh I think you will. You'll obey me every second from this time forward, because I have something that I think you'll find as good motivation." He brought his hand to his beak, and spoke into a small box. "Bring in 1-7-9-K."

The door opened and Pavlor looked over. Another orca brought in the beaten and battered bull from the cages. He looked rather pathetic and submissive as he walked, cringing as he expected pain from the very air itself.

The orca continued, "Meet your new companion. He will follow your every move now, and when you disobey,"

The orca flipped his hand, and the bull was pushed down roughly by his leash holder. As his neck was held down by the orca's boot, a light-whip came off the orca's hip, a metallic cylinder that hung a glowing leathery chain. The orca pulled back and let the string fly, making a humming and crackling sound as it flew through the air. It landed squarely on the bulls back, lashing from shoulder to cheek; it caused the bull to cry in anguish and left a glowing red welt.

"Every time you disobey,"

The bull got strike another, and then another.

"He is punished. Obey and be good,"

The bull was let up and the orca stepped back to let him cower on the floor. Pavlor's lead was dropped and he rushed to the bull, kneeling down and trying to comfort him.

"And he will be spared."

Pavlor whispered down, "Are you all right?"

The bull looked up at him. The strong, burly body was shaking with fear and pain, "Please... please don't let them do this again. I'll do anything for you... please..."

The canine's mind raced. Surely if it were him being whipped, he could hold out for a time, deny his captors what they wanted and rebel when he could. But this, this was too sick and degraded even for his captors. How could he let this poor, tortured bull be pained just for him? Taking lashes meant for Pavlor, listening to the cries of another would kill him inside.

"You're sick," Pavlor said, turning his head to look up at the orca dictating the rules. The only thing that was returned was a knowing smile.

"Well, now that we know the pecking order," the orca said, pointing to the table, "get up, now."

Pavlor waited but a moment to respond. In the half second he hesitated, the bull screamed out as a white-hot flash streaked dangerously close to Pavlor's hand. Pavlor gripped the bull tighter, trying to comfort him as he curled into a ball.

"Hesitate again, and its five lashes."

Pavlor had little else to do but to instantly jump up. He could not stand to have the bull hurt, despite the extreme injustice of the situation. He walked over to the table and slid up onto it on his back.

"Roll over," the orca said, making the command as degrading to a canine as it could possibly be construed. Pavlor moved as quickly as he could, catching the wind up from the whip-wielding orca, but moved fast enough to prevent the crack from being issued.

"Oh, much better slave, much better. I think we'll make a proper boy out of you yet." A hard smack came down on his cheek with a firm crack; the sting prickled his furry flesh. He growled back instinctually, causing the bull's back to sear with a third whip from the torturer.

"Uh-uh-uh, that's not how to thank Master for his touch, is it?"

'Master?' Pavlor's cheeks flared red with incredulity. 'Does this asshole think I will ever use such a word...' His thoughts were interrupted by three consecutive lashes to the bull's back, which now left pinpoints of blood where the whip marks crossed. Biting his pride back, Pavlor calmed himself as best he could and said, "Thank you, Master." The word made his veins go cold. Deep inside him, he felt as if he was betraying his old owner, that he was renouncing the wonderful life he had enjoyed before being forced here, even if those memories were but mere remnants of a fanciful dream.

The hand smacked his other cheek quickly, and without thinking, Pavlor spit out a "Thank you, Master."

"You learn quickly, I see why Sha..."

Pavlor's ears suddenly perked up and his hackles prickled. For a moment a name was almost at his lips, but it was gone in a flash as the orca corrected himself.

"I mean, why it would be shameful to put you to the milkers."

Pavlor felt all eyes on him, watching him. He knew the orca had made a mistake, letting something slip. Maybe it was his old owner's name, for the sound was almost comforting. Thinking quickly, Pavlor responded, "Yes Master. Thank you Master."

The orca seemed to ease his apprehension. "Good. Now," he turned to the one at the console, walking over and giving orders, "I think a gentle, easy conditioning would work best. I want this one to last a lot longer than my last. And document his training, I think I can find a use for the video." He and the consol-worker chuckled firmly as clicks, presses and beeps issued forth from the keypad and monitor.

The lights dimmed a little and the table started to shift. Arms came down from above, just as they did when he was cut loose from the webbing. He made little, if any, attempt to defy them. He was positioned swiftly so he was presenting his tail in the air, while his shoulders and arms were nearly flat against the padding. His legs were spread wide enough to make him feel vulnerable to the machine's intent, while his ankles and knees were secured inside cuffs.

A nose-covering was being lowered before him, but it stopped and backed off when he heard, "No anesthesia," from behind him. His body chilled from ear-tips to toes from the words, all he could do was brace himself.

As expected, something pushed and buzzed coldly against his exposed anus. A thin, unyielding metallic probe entered his warmth with little more than a cursory squirt of lubricant. Though it was thin enough to slide in easily, the lack of appropriate preparation made it rub uncomfortably against his muscles.

Pavlor let out a gasp and a groan, his eyes closed as he endured the pressure. He felt it press inside him until the tip was resting squarely against his prostate. A few seconds of relief was all he was afforded before he heard a hissing sound, then the sound of an air piston fired and the probe got larger inside him to expand its girth. He yelped from surprise, but its size was slowly diminished to its original state.

For a few moments he had rest before the sounds came again, and the probe increased in size. The stretching was painful, for it did not ease into him as the deflation did, but shock his muscles into expanding without consent.

Pavlor opened his eyes after the third expansion, looking into the eyes of his 'Master'. "Mmm, good. Keep it up, slave, and we'll be able to party inside that all night as we use you for entertaining our guests." The orca got up and walked out, saying, "Inform me when he reaches the specified girth," and walked out the door.

Over and over his anus was stretched, to what degree he couldn't tell. It only felt as if he could have stuffed a baseball bat inside him when the machine was done, contracting for the last time and slipping out as if nothing was around it. Gasping and panting, his legs straining from the forced immobility of his position, Pavlor was released and he slumped against the padding. He rolled over, reaching back to feel his anus, finding it far more pliable and loose than he ever wanted it to feel.

Brown arms shifted under him and lifted him up. The bull was cradling him in his arms as they were led out the door. The orca leading them looking back, almost disgusted by the scene, "I'd never let a slave wait on a slave like that, its sickening."

The bull carried Pavlor with no words while the orca leading was talking to the one behind as if neither bull nor canine was present.

"Well, if you had as much money as Xeneth, you could do what he wants."

"Yeah yeah. The pay here isn't the best, but where else can you grab and shove your dick in a warm hole without worrying about what's going on around you. Plus all the 'fringe' benefits."

"I know. Gotta admit, having the pick of any unmarked slave is sure a release on your stress levels." Both laughed introspectively before the one behind continued. "Still, I think taking some of them is a little risky. Xeneth has got way too much of a revenge addiction."

"Still, I'm uneasy."

"Why? You know we've got this all covered. No one's going to find us where we are. Besides," the orca interjected with an arrogant tone, "they all get their locator chips removed."

They walked into the cage room. The place was empty currently, and the bull and Pavlor were led to one and locked inside. The orca's continued, recounting slaves they had taken or particularly tight or rambunctious ones, as they exited the room.

Pavlor was lain down on the bed on his front side, the bull moving slowly and tenderly to make him comfortable. "I will be good for you," the bull said, as if Pavlor where his Master. "You rest, I make you feel better." The thick fingers of the bovine's hands moved with precision, rubbing the canine's back in slow, sweeping arches over his fur. Pavlor had little chance against such divine massage techniques, and closed his eyes.

The bull continued wordlessly, concentrating on the canine and stroking away the hurt and discomfort from places Pavlor had rarely had touched before. The fingers danced and swung around his back, making him feel drowsy and content. The bull moved lower down the back, bypassing the firm rump of the canine, which he eyed with some hunger. He slipped his fingers around the thighs and legs, forcing the muscles to ease up and become loose and pliable.

The bull kneeled down between the legs of the canine, spreading them gently as he lowered his snout to the cheeks there. A thick, warm tongue slipped out and began soothing the roughly stretched sphincter muscles, causing Pavlor to wake from his light stupor.

"No, you don't..."

"I will be a good bull, not get beaten, not get hurt. I will be good to you, and you will be good to me."

He dived back down, lapping at the warm entry with precision begetting his fingers. Pavlor wanted to cry, feeling his heart go out to the bull. He thought of what conditioning he had to have endured to be so gentle and defenseless. The more Pavlor was subjected to the gentle touch, the less he seemed inclined to allow anything bad to happen to the bull.

The tongue slid inside his body slowly, making Pavlor gasp and tense up with delight. The easy, gentle wiggle into him made his sheath swell. He looked back, turning his body to see the strong bovine face buried between his cheeks and looking blissfully content. Pavlor had little to do but allow the bull to comfort and pleasure him.

Pets were being brought back by the time the bull had finished rimming out Pavlor. The bull had been going at it for what seemed like hours. The stronger, bulkier male slid up onto Pavlor's back, pressing down against him and pushing his tip to the saliva-drenched opening. Holding onto the canine, the bull asked, "May... may I take you? Please?"

"I don't know," Pavlor responded. His emotions and body were fighting each other in a near civil war.

The crown of the bull's penis pushed ever so gently inside, breaching the first ring and making Pavlor gasp with delight. "I will be good, I will please, I promise I will. I will do anything. Please, please let me," the sentence hanged for a few moments before a word was whispered into Pavlor's ear, "Master."

Pavlor could not take the strain. He pushed back, pressing half the length inside him so easily; it felt like he was meant to take such things all his life. The machine had conditioned him, in one session, to take the girth of a bull without any pain or hesitation. "Oh, oh god," Pavlor said as he felt the bull lean into him and took him slowly.

As the pets mingled in with their captor's they seemed to take little notice of the actions going on inside the other cages. Though occasional sobs and soft painful cries issued forth from pets that had been abused sounded forth, most listened to the sweet sounds of love from Pavlor's cage with envy.

The bull stroked slowly, taking his time and easing his penis within the canine's body. His breath warm against the back of Pavlor's neck, nibbling and biting between his words. "I will treat Master good. Make Master happy and he will protect his bull."

Groans began to increase as the pace picked up. The bull hunched sharply, lowing out in soft tones as he stroked himself inside the canine. Pavlor's arms felt pinned against his side as the weight of the bull kept him down, making him feel strange and comforted.

"Going... to cum Master," the bull warned. "Please... Master, bull... allowed?" The pace did not ebb, but the bull was straining painfully to prevent his ejaculation.

"Yes... please, cum!"

The bull hunched in, burying everything he had in the canine and lowed strongly. A veritable gush of warmth filled Pavlor's body, spilling into him as the bull lowed with painful delight. The moment did not last long enough as the bull rested and panted hard upon Pavlor's back. "Master is good to me, Master protects me."