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Slave Training

Part One

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Lafontaine

The slave intake facility was set outside the city so that no one truly knew what went on in there. Not even the slavers, trainers and other staff members truly understood some of the time but that was by the by as long as they did what was needed for the slaves in the facility. And that was getting them ready to be sold by The Engineer at his state of the art premises in the centre of the city, the throbbing heart and lifeblood of the country, though money exchanged there could never have been said to be gleaned in fairly gained coin. After all, they were trading in lives.

But that didn't matter to The Engineer and those in his employ. They knew where the money was whether it was a quick buck or in the manner of playing the long game and the fates of those that passed through their paws and claws were none of their concern. Well, only if they came back later for further training, which only meant more fun for them. It was a hard job to take on as a slaver or one who trained slaves but one could say too that it was one of the most rewarding, moulding and shaping a mind and body until it suited the needs of many particular masters. It was an art and a skill woven together like the lash of a braided whip, which was most often doled out when punishments were given, even though they would not mark the stock permanently.

No... Most masters preferred to leave their own marks. The Engineer, with his constant collection of changing, personal slaves, knew that better than most, the hyena's smirk practically painted on his lewd, leering muzzle.

The intake facility had been set up on the edge of the mountain range (an excellent training ground for the slaves where some more naturally challenging terrain was required to spice things up a bit) but there were open fields too set up with obstacle courses too, all designed to show off the male physique and develop it to the very best of the slaver's abilities. It was state of the art but the exterior was not the only part that was deserving of attention, picturesque if not for the lives that inhabited it. A long driveway led up to the building, the main body of which was modern and clinical, giving off an air of a building that had been designed for a specific purpose with its white-washed bricks, though the buildings around the back clad in metal and wooden frameworks were more agricultural than anything else.

And it was there that it all began, slavers hustling slaves off the lorries as if they were nothing more than cattle, hollering and prodding, some even using an electric cattle prod (the zap of which was only turned down sometimes, if they were in a particularly good mood that day) to get them off the transporter. They didn't always want to come willingly, some holding up their paws and professing that there had been a mistake, some kind of mistake, though there never had been. Whether they had sold themselves or, somehow, been sold by another, they were just lives in the system to be ferried from one place to the next, their use measured in charts and on schedules, tape measures locking in their growth and physical fitness in tangible means too.

New slaves were introduced to the intake pens, metal and rigid and smelling faintly of something aromatic that may have been a spice and may have been a flower. By the time the new slaves, snarling and pounding their fists on the metal, threatening to climb where the pens were not electrified, realised that something was in the air, they'd fallen back, blinking dully, not quite remembering just what they'd been fighting against in the first place. Of course, the use of that little intoxicant of sorts was not something that could be used full-time in a willing slave but it nicely did the trick to get them amenable for starting things off, which, sometimes, was the most important part to bear in mind.

They wouldn't forever be softly sent into a state of low arousal - of course not. But it was better for them, yes, to ease into the life of being a slave, for they had already had the most upheaval in their short or long lives ever in being uprooted from them. Even those that came in with their heads down and hanging, trudging on weary hind paws, were treated the same, no slave different to the one beside him in the intake pens. They knew that they had sold themselves, that they'd signed the paperwork to make it so, but it was their families left behind or even friends that may or may not have appreciated their sacrifice that would benefit from something that took the life of the enslaved away. After all, an enslaved fur was no longer allowed any thoughts or feelings that would not benefit a master, no life of their own, a toy for another to use however they pleased.

Sometimes the sacrifice was worth it. Other times, well... That was a tale better left for those in the know to tell. Only they couldn't, not with The Engineer's training taking effect, warping and twisting their minds more and more as they became muscle-stud toys for the dominant creatures of society to make use of. Calling them "livestock" was almost too good a term for them in the eyes of the hyena slaver that ran the whole operation but that was something that he would have to work out with himself as to whether he had an even more demeaning name to give his studly little bois. His male, stud-slaves that were going to make him so, so very much money...

Inside, one could have been convinced that they were not slaves as the intoxicating fog, softening the edges of reality, was lifted. Brought inside, a slave was trained in many sexual tasks and activities, sometimes alone with a trainer and sometimes with a group, shown how to stretch their tail holes for larger and larger toys, all for a master's pleasure. There was teaching on leather and latex too, how best to care for it and, of course, wear it too, though there was a focus throughout on the pleasure of their master, always their master. If they had any kinks and fetishes, when it came to the sexual side of it all, that was not to be of any concern to them anymore. Leave those behind, they said, the words spinning and reverberating around many a slave's mind, night after lonely night out in the cold of the stock pens. They wouldn't need those anymore. Those were self-serving. And a slave, above all else, could never be self-serving.

They were worth more than that. At least, to the people who bought them for what value they could add to their lives through the service of their bodies. Ultimately, they were disposable, able to be gotten rid of at any point, but no one talked about that side of the slaving business unless there was money to be made from it too.

The halls may have been clean and swept, tended to by those slaves that were forever kept at the facility on-site as in-house slaves, but those that were merely passing through did not get a room inside the insulated walls away from the elements. The intake pens were one thing but those that were there longer-term got a mere cage of a steel pen in the barns outside, the metal structures rattling in the wind even if they would not come down in a storm. They had roofs if only to ensure that the slaves did not climb out in a fit of rebellion - sometimes it took the training longer to take effect than others - but the empty space between even the bars caging in the roof did not offer them any protection in a dry, dirt pen, everything about them and their bodies constantly on show, constantly on display. Those that were lucky got a pen that was undercover in the rattling barn. Those unlucky souls that were left in an outside pen when the weather was less than favourable, well...they would huddle together through the bars of the pens for what warmth they could glean from one another's fur, soaked through and sodden whether they had fur, scales or even feathers.

There was not solely sexual training to be undertaken inside the walls, however, but an expansive gym were slavers acted as particularly strict personal trainers, cracking a literal whip to get their charges and victims moving at an even quicker lick of a pace. Regardless of the condition in which the slaves arrived, it was granted that they would leave in peak physical fitness, suitable to be models on show with rippling swathes of hard muscle.

And it was there, in the world-class weight lifting gym, that Shane was found, blinking as he looked around, not quite understanding his sense of shifting reality. It was strange to be there and, fair enough, his beard was a little better trimmed than usual, but his normal baseball cap was gone, though he could not have said just where. The dragon frowned, lips turning down as his tail tucked down a little closer to his backside, though there was something hard pressed up under his tail that he could not put a name to.

The dragon was tall and already well-built, but he would be even more thickly muscled in times to come, his scales grey even though they were not the kind of scales that prevented him for sweating. Of course, he sweated more from the glands under his arm and around his groin, to name a couple, but that was simply to be expected as how his body worked. He was set to work out though was naked too, even if that didn't seem as strange to him as it may have once been. Shrugging, Shane ran his fingers back through his hair, his trainer counting the time down to his next set, all for the gain of hypertrophy. It couldn't be that strange when everyone else there was naked too, right?

To the dragon, it could have been just like any other gym back home, filled with weight plates and barbells, everything that he could have ever wanted. There were some machines but they were taught good form and how to stay safe in there, the cloying presence pushing down on his mind insisting that he obey. And just who wouldn't have wanted to obey something as simple as health and safety regulations when they directly affected him?

No... No. Even then, Shane knew that it was better to listen, hair clumped with sweat and grunting as he was forced through push-ups. He couldn't say no to them, of course, but he didn't have any kind of reason to say no. It was reasonable, very reasonable, to want to look good and be good, yes, very good...

Shane shook his head and glanced up, pausing halfway through a rep. Just where was he? What was he doing there? The bear training him snarled, quick to lash out with the whip, striking his backside. It took a moment after the crack for the pain to register and Shane yelped, collapsing nose-first into the mats, though they did nothing at all to ease the smarting, stinging pain from his buttocks.

"Who said you could stop?" The bear growled. He didn't have a name or, at least, he'd never bothered to tell Shane just what it was. "One-hundred more for that - get on it, boy!"

Shane could only obey, moving hastily out of fear of more pain. The whip would not leave a mark, that wasn't how it was designed, but it was made to cause optimal pain and pain was an excellent motivator, even when someone didn't know quite what they were doing. He huffed and puffed, arms trembling, working, focusing only on the task at hand, mind zeroing in from all else.

He had to focus, had to concentrate. There was nothing else for him, not if he let his mind slip.

Up-down, up-down, up-down. His movements became jerkier and jerkier, breath rasping in his throat even though it was hardly a cardiovascular activity. Shane's arms were not yet developed enough to support his weight through the triceps, his chest taking the brunt, pecs screaming, though anyone who had worked out for any length of time knew that muscles could not be isolated in compound exercises. The rest of his body was bruised from beating and aching from day after day in the gym, his body honed and primed while he was fed a basic but solid diet to give him the biggest gains. Once upon a time, he had taken a shake of protein powder and called it a day on that count but the slaver's whip kept him going, refusing to allow him to stop.

Wait... Shane blinked, not pausing in his reps. Like a machine, he had to keep going. But there had been something not quite right in that thought that even his faintly foggy mind wanted to cling onto.

Slavers?

_ _

It came back to him then and Shane hissed through his teeth, anger red-hot and curdling, weaving and winding through the pit of his stomach. Yes... Yes, that's what they were. How could he have forgotten that? He may not have remembered just how he had come to be in such a place, a horrendous facility of living souls, but he knew he was there and he most certainly did not want to be there! Who the fuck wanted to be a slave? Shane grit his teeth together, growling viciously through them as even the bear took a half step back.

"Eighty...eighty-one...eighty-two..."

Oh, how nice of him to keep count, that was really fucking helpful to a slave. Shane tried not to think of it, playing the part of an amenable one, one that was going along with the training as if it was the most normal thing in the world. His arms burned, his chest ached, even his legs were sore from the previous day where squats had borne him down onto a dildo. They hadn't even eased up on the weight for him during the course of that one. And it was not just pressure, a strange thing, up under his tail but a dildo - one that locked into him with a band around the base of his tail!

Shamefully, he tried not to think about the fact that his cock was out and hard, glistening even with drips of sweat from his scales. It was better to consider that he was working hard and sweating hard, not that his cock was hard. It was forced to remain swollen even as blood rushed to muscles that needed it far more than his dick, and he clenched his jaws hard until they ached, a muscle jumping and pulsing in the corner of them. He just had to bear through it, ignoring just how his shaft throbbed, how the fog of being there, being a slave, wanted to close in on him again, need coming up through a haze of sexual desire.

He squeezed down on the dildo in his tail hole. Fuck, that felt good! Yet it was not him, so very much not him.

God...

_ _

Shane shuddered bodily, trying to cover it up with a grunt and a gasp as his tail twitched, a shiver betraying him as it trembled down the length. The trainer must have noticed but he worked out twice as hard, lying back on a bench in a half-rack that would allow him to bench press with the safety pins on and secured in place. That would take up a lot of time even after the warm-up of push-ups, as the trainers called it, though his sourness and bitterness towards the burly bear with thick, brown fur that demanded his attention in every day of his life was not something that could so easily be forced away.

Even lying back on the bench brought his cock up into stark definition, standing out proudly and boldly as if, even then, his body was trying to draw attention to itself. But he had to arch his back and get into the proper form, acting as if he didn't notice his erection at all - well, at least until his trainer smirked and closed his paw around it, making him clank the bar back onto the rack, although there was no curse to flow forth from his lips. A slave under their control would not be able to curse like that, he was sure, and, so, Shane sucked it up and let out a moan, tongue hanging out, still obediently trying to bring the back down to complete the lift even as his shaft was groped and squeezed. There was nothing pleasurable, bar the natural reaction of his body, in what the slaver was doing to him, though his instinct to snarl and fight back was harder to tame than could have been expected.

The bear rumbled a chuckle, releasing his cock and wiping a drop of pre-cum off on his sweaty scales, the lingering musk of a male working hard lingering around Shane, along with something else too.

"Not a bad fuck-toy you're going to be, hey?"

Shane ground his teeth together, staring at the bar. One more, just one more.

"Your arse won't be tight after all this. But every stud is going to love looking at you on your knees."

He tried not to think. Just breathe, all he had to do was breathe.

"Maybe you'll even take two cocks at once, just to show what a whore-hole you'll have..."

He just had to get through the workout...and then he would go back to the pens. He clenched his teeth, pretending that it was the exercise that was getting to him, not seeing what he was doing, surroundings blurring in a haze of not-knowing. Out, out, he had to get out, but the only way to get out was through the day. And that was just the game, right there and then, that he was forced to play.

A game. No more than that.

There was not any further training scheduled for him that day and Shane was escorted with a grope and a slap to his firmly muscled arse back to the pens for the evening. The sun had gotten low in the sky but the dragon could not even remember what he'd been doing earlier that day, his mind twisted and broken, fragments of memories rising without anything to link them together. He let his head hang, as he'd been taught and saw other slaves doing, but the trudge of his weary hind paws was true and not faked. A collar and leash adorned him but he was not allowed any more than that. Even the dildo had been replaced and locked back up under his tail after he had been allowed to relieve himself and cleaned brusquely in a cold shower, his slave-trainer taking every opportunity to squeeze and grope and fondle every part of his body that he chose to.

But, in the pens, there was solace to be found, although a slave could never truly be alone out there. It may have been cold and, oftentimes, damp too, but it was a space where there were only a few guards out on patrol, keeping an eye on them and, sometimes, taking advantage of them too. It seemed that anything was alright with those in charge out there when it came to fucking a slave over the guard's desk, though the shudders and cries from that little hut carried far and wide.

Nobody came to help the slave being used. Not even the once. Sometimes, Shane had seen the guards taking bondage items from the facility too, stringing them up all night and fucking both holes they had to offer, leaving the slave in question shattered and exhausted when the light of dawn touched the sky. They didn't care that the slave that they'd used would be beaten if they did not perform up to standards the coming day. No... All they cared about was a quick fuck just like those in charge only wanted a quick buck.

There was something about being set in the pens with the stars twinkling above, the night brisk and crisp as spring leaned towards the encroach of summer (not quite there yet). His pen-mate, a German Shepherd named Drew, sat on the other side of the bars of the adjoining pen with his back to him, fur pushing through the gaps as if he was especially fluff that day. Maybe he'd been bathed and made to groom himself?

But he looked quiet, far quieter than he had ever looked before, even to Shane's untrained eye, his ears loose and floppy, not pricked as they usually were. The dragon squinted, scooting a bit closer, though he was already sitting where the slaver had deposited him and was not quite sure whether he chanced moving as yet with the sweet spices tickling his nostrils, begging him to take a deep breath that would render him useless and hapless all over again, unable to do anything about, well, anything.

At the very least, he had to be there for his friend.

"Hey... Drew?"

The German Shepherd stirred, tail tucked down close to his backside.

"Drew?"

The dog still didn't stir, fear furling and unfurling in the pit of Shane's stomach. And yet he still did not dare move, for fear of the worse.

"Drew!" He hissed, eyes narrowed as if that would carry his voice further without alerting the guards, his volume actually unchanged. "Say something!"

"What?"

The canine frowned, one ear twitching, as he lethargically looked back over his shoulder at the dragon. It was as if every move he made took an inordinate amount of time and effort to complete and the lines of pain running through his young, almost broken, body were clear to see, even in the eyes of a casual observer.

"Jeez, you scared me," Shane muttered. "Thought something was really wrong then."

Drew laughed but there was no humour in the sound.

"You're clear today... What did they do to you?"

Shane flinched.

"Do we need to talk about that?"

"Sometimes you want to talk about it, sometimes you don't. It would be rude of me to assume either way."

That was fair but, in all honesty, it was probably one of the very few fair things that could be found at all in the slaving facility. Leaning back against the bars, the only thing that he could use in the tiny pen where they were locked in like cattle ready for the auction-house, Shane looked up, letting Drew come to what he wanted to say, if he even wanted to say anything.

"What did they make you do today?" Shane asked, trying to push on the conversation, at least a little, for something friendly on the ears. "I was in the gym...and other things earlier."

Drew shook his head tightly, hardly tipping his snout back and forth to complete the motion.

"Tight bondage. For hours. They know I'm not _really_breaking. They fucked me too until my jaw ached, plastered me in cum. I don't know if my tail hole will ever close up again."

It was almost with a clinical kind of detachment that Drew recounted his day and Shane was there to listen to it all, despite how it filled him with horror. Yet that horror was not the worst of it as he turned his body away from Shane, letting the dog get it all out there, his crotch tingling, cock half-hard, the conditioning taking root deep inside his mind where he could no longer claw it forth, dig it up and get it out of him. There didn't seem to be anything at all he could do to stop his body from reacting as Drew told him about how he'd been dragged up in suspension bondage, like a floating sex toy, used and abused time after time again.

Shane clenched his jaws, turning his head back and forth, slowly, from one side to the other. He had to keep a hold of himself, had to stay in control. It was the only thing keeping him going, that made him think he could get through it, even though he didn't know what in hell he was going to do to get through his terror there at all.

His cock denied him that breakaway, the sense that he could still be himself, know himself. The tales of bondage and how the leather had cut into Drew's skin and fur had him harder and harder, as much as he nodded and made the appropriate noises of sympathy at the other fur. He wanted to put a paw on his cock too but that, at least, was something that he felt somewhat able to hold himself back from. He had to listen to Drew, yes, that was what he had to do. The most important thing he had to do right then and there was to listen to Drew, to help drew, to do everything and anything that he could do for Drew, for Drew was the only thing that mattered to him right then and there, that moment, that time.

Shane swallowed hard, panting lightly, barely swallowing a moan. Why was Drew... Oh, what did it matter anymore?

"Shane, your paw's on your dick again."

The dog sounded resigned as if it was not the first time it had happened, Shane yanking his paw away as if it was on fire, though the only burn left was in his cock, the aching need rising. When had been the last time he'd been allowed to cum? Why did hearing such things... He blushed fiercely, turning his muzzle away as he rubbed his snout. He had to remember who he was, why he was there, the fact that he'd been dragged into the life of slavery against his will.

"I..." The words came thick and slow in Shane's throat, but he knew that Drew was listening. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. You can't stop them from taking over your mind here. I won't be able to stop them either. We just have to hang on for as long as possible, fight them, try all we can. Even if..." There was a sigh in the German Shepherd's tone. "Even if there's no hope."

Shane ground his teeth together.

"Don't fucking say that! We can get out of here!"

"Oi - you! Quiet down there!"

Shane quailed, loathing his reaction even as he scooted to the back of the pen, although he managed to wipe the snarl from his lips just in time. That wouldn't do, not with the slaver guard that was about at that time, the stoat with a "weasely" grin (ironically so), his skinny frame nothing to look at. He was a cruel sort and took advantage of the slaves whenever he was on duty, smirking as he eyed up Drew and Shane as if they were pieces of meat. To him, that's all they were - that and numbers, of course. The boy-toys were nothing more to a slaver than what their use and worth could be accounted for.

"You..." He sneered. "Didn't get enough in training, hey, boy? You need to get your head on straight, perhaps down sucking a good cock. You like that, stock-boy? You wanna get your lips on a hot piece of dick?"

He grabbed his own crotch and Shane looked away, turning his muzzle down submissively. It was the only way that he knew to get someone like that to go away, someone who well and truly thought that they were above Shane's station in life. If he wasn't appealing, if he didn't meet the stoat's needs, well...the arsehole would leave him alone. And, in the slave pens, sometimes that was the very best that any slave could hope for.

The stoat scoffed, turning away.

"Fine..." He grumbled. "Bitch stock needs more training."

Shane was a little too well-muscled for his liking anyway as the stoat wanted someone that he could force down, pin down, dominate completely and utterly. There was still a risk to be had with the untrained slaves and he swept his torch down the line of pens, seeking out another unfortunate soul to use and abuse. That time, it proved to be a small puma who huddled at the back of his pen, whimpering and looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else at all in the world, although he did not protest when the stoat grabbed him by the arm.

"Come here, boy," he grunted. "I'll show you what a real cock is... Stock like you must be sick of a dildo up that tight arse of yours by now, hm?"

It wasn't a question that was meant to be answered as the puma hung his head, tail dropping, allowing himself to be led meekly to the night guard's office. There would be others there to use him too and the puma was surely in for a long night. Shane shivered, erection finally softening a little in the cool, night air. He was glad he wasn't in that cat's position. Very glad, even though his body tried to push him towards it, need tingling in the back of his mind, a lingering niche of conditioning that the facility was slowly pushing into him more and more.

But wouldn't it be nice to get a cock back in his mouth, to suck and please and be a good boy?

Shane leaned back, head rolling up to the bars, puffing softly. Yes, it was what he wanted, what he needed, the meat of his fat length of male-flesh throbbing in his paw. How his paw had gotten back there he could not have said but he still moaned out loud, however softly, Drew's eyes fixed on him.

He couldn't help himself. Lacking chastity, as some slaves were sometimes locked into as punishment, he could do as he pleased with himself when there were no watchful, slaver eyes around. And Drew knew that too, sometimes the only pleasure that they could take for themselves being what was forced upon them day in and day out. He was not about to deny Shane that or tell him off for it, letting the dragon pump and work his meat even as the dog's rose to attention too. Of course, Drew did not wear any clothes either. Clothes were something for slavers, for masters, and neither of them could even remember the last time that they'd worn anything that was not fetish gear, for all the good that did them.

"Oh..."

Shane breathed out softly, holding himself back just enough to stifle his pleasure. It was good, so pure, just what he needed all on his own.

"We've got to get out of here."

Shane signed.

"I know, Drew, I know...."

But that was a plan that would only come to be in later times."

*

How much later remained to be seen, however. It was harder and harder for Shane to fight back and push back against the insistent need to obey. It was harder again to get up off his knees and easier than ever to lose himself in sucking a cock. The bear trainer took advantage of him in the showers, shoving Shane back into the bitterly cold water, something that was kept such so that the slaves would not get used to creature comforts like hot water again while they were there. By the time they left, that was all that they would know and that was a good starting point for any slave. As if anyone, let alone any self-respecting master, would let a slave use up valuable hot water, regardless of their position in the world...

It was hard to think, let alone breathe, as he sucked down that length of bear-meat, the driving length of his cock pushing up into the back of Shane's throat. He hacked and gagged but that was just something that let his trainer know that he needed more practice in deep-throating cock, so much more practise, and the bear slammed in harder and faster than ever, forcing him to take every last inch of it even if he was not ready.

But he was not broken. As much as his body helplessly responded, knowing just how to move and how to act to get the bear to climax more swiftly, his mind rebelled. He could not slink and sink away from the present moment but he could rest sure in the knowledge that all, like so much else, would come to pass. His escape plan with Drew bolstered him up, at least a little, and he clung to that to the exclusion of all else as the thick pole slid over his tongue. His tongue reacted too, curling up and around, a little slenderer and more dextrous than that of some of the other slaves there, but that only meant that he could do more still to please whoever was acting as his master at that particular time.

The thick length of meat pushed up over his tongue. In a way, Shane liked it, being the type of dragon that enjoyed male company in better times. If he didn't think, barely considered the implications of what he was doing, he could slip away, pretend that he was pleasing a lover or something like that, someone that cared about him. With a low, lusty moan, the dragon slipped down and down and down, the water seeping into his scales, moisturising and re-hydrating them as he sucked down that cock. It was all that was left in the world for him at that moment, the dick of a master cramming up into the back of his throat, driving in hard and fast, using his mouth as nothing more than a hole to be fucked. Drooling, Shane shuddered bodily, the chill setting off his scales. Was there anything else that a slave could be?

No, no... No, he was a slave and the bear was his master, the one he had to please above all else. Just suck, yes, keep sucking, keep pleasing, treat him like the king he was.

Not even with himself in body or spirit, Shane's mind drifted, the chemicals that the water of the showers had been infused with seeping into him, though the bear was rendered immune to it, having been vaccinated against everything that The Engineer had purchased. It was all, of course, used to ensure the compliance of the slaves and he ground and thrust with wanton abandon into a broken slut's muzzle as Shane hacked and gagged, his need to breathe conflicting with the rising, all-encompassing desire to suck cock.

There was nothing the dragon could do as his hair was grabbed, very nearly torn from his scalp, not seeing, not breathing, only feeling every hot spurt of cum flowing down his throat as he gulped and gulped, eager to please. That was what they liked - it didn't matter if he couldn't breathe, chest tight, oh no. All that mattered was that he was a good boy, a good toy, a dragon on his knees set to please a better male, a stud and a master, than he could ever be. Slick cum twirled over his tongue as the bear pulled back, spending the last spurts over Shane's muzzle, although he did not draw back in time to give him a true facial, further debasing and humiliating him as the dragon gasped. To him, it did not bring the shudder of revulsion, under those circumstances, that it should have done but Shane took a deep breath, exhaled in a contented sigh, licking that cum off his face with as much reach as his tongue could get while the shower took care of the rest.

The slaver smirked, tail twitching with prideful dominance. But the day was getting on and there were only so many liberties that could be taken until it interfered with what the stock items needed to be doing during the day. Training, of course, was to be completed with outstanding accomplishments.

"To class, stock-boy."

Hauling him upright while he still gasped, the bear threw him in the fur and scale drying machine (the most efficient way to dry off slaves that were needed for use again very shortly) and chuckled at his discomfort, jets of air blasting him from all directions. The slaver licked his lips, eyeing up the hot piece of dragon-flesh as he was tossed about, barely able to keep his balance as the air blasts, cruelly, were turned up. All the while, his cock jerked and bobbed as if he was trying to put on a show, juddering and flinching as a stray droplet of pre-cum too went flying off.

The taste of cum remained heavy and heady in Shane's mouth as he was led to the classroom, not that far from the gym if he remembered correctly. But, even though a part of him knew that he had been down the other white-washed hallways and more, he couldn't tell what had been in them or what he had done there, his mind foggy and over swept by sensation. Even the tread of his bare hind paws on the cool tile (easily cleaned) was too much for him as he groaned in the back of his throat, his hard cock leading the way as a collar that was a little too tight closed in furiously around his neck. That never changed but, after cleaning him off brutally, the slave-handler had made sure to buckle it up an extra notch, showing him his place. And Shane knew well enough too that his place would forever be on his knees.

Bondage was the name of the game and Shane blinked to find a German Shepherd, who both looked familiar and unfamiliar to his eye at the same time, strung up in suspension, his arms and legs spread-eagled. A latex harness scooped around his torso and abdomen took the brunt of his weight but a ball gag shoved in his mouth ensured that he would not be able to talk or voice any complaints. Even though he was not twisting and thrashing when Shane got there, the lines and marks on his body, fur matted with the stink of sweat, told a tale of a struggle beforehand, though a little more of the fire in the canine's eyes had gone out.

Kneeling obediently on the floor as a pair of Komodo dragons - Shane thought they were brothers - took centre-stage, the dragon shook his head minutely at Drew. Didn't the canine know that he had to be good for them, their owners? Anyone who was not a slave could act as their owner and, well, they had to please above all else. Bad things happened when they didn't and didn't it feel so very good too to please? There were others in the class of sorts too: a stag, a black panther, an okapi, a pit bull and a ram. He hadn't seen them before but a sense of soft camaraderie washed over him, warming him from the inside out. All of them...his fellow slaves. Was that not a fine thing indeed?

"Stock! Pay attention!"

Shane knelt up a little straighter, ears pricked attentively. The taller of the Komodo dragons smirked, his long tongue rasping out against the side of his muzzle, the two of them lean and yet still muscular, fit and deadly at the same time.

"In training today, you will be using a bound slave for a master's pleasure. Slave six-oh-three, here, has kindly volunteered to demonstrate for you."

The slaver smirked and ran his paw down Drew's back, over his sweaty fur, as the canine growled and glared viciously, teeth showing around the fat, red ball gag. Rolling his eyes, the trainer wiped off his paw on the dog's coat - his chest where he had not sweated through quite as much. Standing nearly vertical, the dog was perfectly poised for whatever anyone was ordered to do to him, although everyone well enough knew too that his muzzle would not be needed, in that instance, for the pleasure of a supposed watching master.

Shane shivered, his mind twisting back and forth, writhing and struggling. Why did it feel as if it could be good to be in Drew's position? He didn't like that, he was sure he didn't like that... And yet it was as hard as it had ever been to simply think straight, watching the dog hover there as if suspended by an otherworldly hand, his cock swollen and ready, kept so by the ring of a cock ring banded around the base. Only time would tell how long he would be left there, kept in bondage, needy and wanton.

Without thinking, even as he quailed and pulled back physically, Shane moaned. It was wrong but it was right and the pounding of his heart did not clarify that for him either way. His head was so dazed, so very foggy, but he could not rub his temples for even the modicum of relief, for that alone would upset his trainer. And he couldn't have that, now, could he?

His shifting wriggles and squirms attracted the attention of the second brother, tongue flickering out as if tasting something on the air.

"Dragon... You will do. Demonstrate oral."

The orders were given coolly, clinically, and Shane was up on his scaled hind paws before his mind had caught up with what he had been instructed to do. All there was for him was obedience and sucking cock was not such a bad thing, not a bad thing at all. Drew's hard shaft rose desperately before him, drooling pre-cum - most likely due to the vibrator shoved up under his tail, a little prelude for the stretching that was to come. It was there and open in invitation, he would have been a fool not to take it for his own. If slaves could even do that, that was...

No. Drew's shaft pushed up over his tongue as Shane delved down, swallowing him up into the back of his throat, better that time at controlling his gag reflex. The dog's meat was a full mouthful of cock but that only made it all the better for Shane in the heat of the moment, panting and grunting softly as he devoured all that was offered for him. He sucked him down and swirled his tongue around, the act of giving oral coming more easily to him when it was with something that felt "okay" in his mind. There was no great sense of being friendly or more with the canine but there was something there, something more than had been present with his handler, and he did all that he could for him, bobbing his head quickly as if he had perhaps been tasked with getting the dog off as quickly as possible.

Alas, for the both of them, there was no such pleasure to come as the pressure built and built within Drew. Shane was experienced enough by that point in the art of sucking cock to know when another male was getting close to climax and the steaming kettle hissed and writhed above him, shaking in his bondage. But, like was the case with their situation in slavery, no escape could possibly be had for Drew, the dog that had been strung up like a piece of meat to be enjoyed, forced to endure, over and over again, coming to the brink of orgasm while Shane kept on and on. After all, the drake had not been ordered to stop and so he would continue giving the German Shepherd head until he was told otherwise.

The comments of the slavers rolled over him, pulling uneasily at his heart as something inside him pounded, like tiny fists hollering and screaming to be let out. But what cage could there be inside him? He didn't have to listen to that...not then... Surely, not then.

"He will do nicely in demonstrations."

One slaver tapped another on the shoulder, leaning in where they had gathered to watch what the Komodo dragons were teaching. As always, there was a plethora of spectators to be had at any point in any part of the facility.

"The Engineer will be very pleased with him."

"His tongue does well too."

"How much does his hole stretch?"

"That'll be in the next class, Jaresh. Have some patience."

There was a pause while Shane slurped away, suckling and drawing Drew's cock up as deeply as he could, regardless of the strain in his own throat. Papers shuffled behind him but he was barely aware of that as he sucked and slurped, tongue giving all the pleasure he knew how to give as his cheeks hollowed, determined only to take the canine as deep as possible. He had much work to do and an audience to perform for, even though a part of him pushed his tail down, covering his anal ring, a stirring of unease curling and uncurling in his chest. But he couldn't spare a moment to consider that, not right then. He had a job to do and sucking dick was all that that particular dragon was born to do.

They'd judge him either way.

"He better be ready, they'll be on display next week."

"Perhaps you could demonstrate his body being prepared for the display too?"

"Of course."

Shane was not a part of that conversation but he most certainly was aware of things happening as one of the dragons hefted him up, forcing him into a leather harness that cupped around and under his pecs. It did not extend further down his torso but seemed nicely designed to show off one of the quickest growing parts of his anatomy as he was forced to work out in the gym. His thighs weren't too bad either and another kind or harness was looped around his hips and slunk down his thighs, drawing attention to the definition to be found there, how they were bulging out like tree-trunks. Soon, his abs would be on show then and they wouldn't want to crisscross his lower half with straps, as alluring as they could be, best displaying the assets of his body as even the slavers were trained to do.

"Oh, very interesting..."

A paw caressed him, running down the length of his cock dispassionately, although there was no pleasure to be had from it, however Shane jerked his hips. He ground forward but the paw was gone, tugging at the harness even as the Komodo tightened it. Shane would know the grip of those skilled paws anywhere and something inside him pushed insistently into the touch of a dominant one even then.

The dragon trembled. What was wrong with him?

"That'll be handy if we don't want to use his dick," someone chuckled, but Shane could not have said who they were. "You can put a cock over his too then, right?"

"Yes. The harness will allow any shape or size cock to be put over his as long as they are of the sheath design, slipping on. A ring around the base keeps it in place. I hear that that is becoming popular these days where masters don't want their slaves to experience any pleasure at all. Those that want to see them weakly spilling their loads, cumming for their pleasure, don't add that attachment. Either way, it works well for display purposes."

"Don't put it on the dragon though," the other slaver murmured, seeming to contemplate something as Shane drew back, panting as his hot breath washed over the bound and twitching dog's cock. "I want to see his cock out when The Engineer sees him at intake. What I would do with a cock like that..."

That was not for Shane's ears, however, as a whip tapped his buttocks, forcing him to arch. His body did it even as his mind screamed, though he didn't understand just what his body had to complain about. He was getting everything that a slave could ever want right there and then, used and abused, all for the pleasure and lust of someone better than him. Those watching were better than him, the ones that could make best use of his body, all that he had to offer them, even then.

Drew did not fare well as the vibrator under his tail was swapped for a larger one, the slavers dressing up the remaining slaves in harnesses and jockstraps, treating them as nothing more than the stock items they were for display. Some of them fought more than others and Shane blinked without really understanding the seething anger in his stomach, feelings in conflict with what he was seeing before him. The stag snarled like a tiger and cracked one of the slavers in the chest but he was quickly restrained, arms bound behind him in a sleeve and, right then before them, his antlers cut off. He sobbed and howled and spat curses the whole time until a bit gag was crammed into the back of his mouth, forcing his muffled silence, but he would become just like every other slave in the country sooner or later.

The canine above him shuddered, sweating more and more heavily, and Shane pulled and wriggled in the clutch of control beyond his reach. It was wrong to nuzzle and lick the sweat from Drew's body, to caress the muscles hidden beneath the fur. But if it was wrong, why did his heart lift for it so? The throb of lust rang through his cock and the dragon would not have been able to help himself from taking advantage of Drew, or so he felt, even if he'd had a choice in the situation.

Choice... What was that? It was a dim memory of being forced off a truck, when that choice itself had been taken from him. It was sitting at a table when he had not sat in a chair for weeks. It was not having something rammed up under his tail as both of the brothers at once demonstrated just how much his tail hole could take already.

Shane whimpered and shook his head, panting as he lapped around Drew's musky cock, the taste of sweat exciting him, confusingly, further still. It was wrong and it was right but his mind couldn't work out why that was, left to lapping and suckling and nuzzling under his balls, letting the weight of them tease down on his muzzle. He would be good, do what he was told, then maybe he would have some peace again. As his tail hole clenched down around a thick butt plug that locked inside him neatly and snugly, it was perhaps all that he could hope for.

If a slave could hope, that was.