Reluctantly.

You can't help but feel the hunger in your stomach. Despite this woman's claims, you're sure that you can take whatever this place can throw at you, and a little silicone servicing won't stop you. The short trip to the mannequins is humiliating. You are naked and bound, **** to scoot awkwardly on your knees across the cold stone floor.

"Very good, ****." she speaks as though you were a child taking it's first steps.

You arrive at the "feeders" and look at the surprisingly life-like cunt in front of you. Talk about a real doll. You almost laugh at your stupid thought. The mannequins have been put at such a height that you must be on your knees and bending down to get under them. You sigh and begin to work your tongue around the fake pussy's "clit". A lusty female voice beings speaking, but it is not the woman behind you: This is your purpose. You are a tool. A--

"What the--" You are interrupted before you can finish your thought. You hear a loud SNAP, and a searing pain hits your back. You quickly spin around to the woman behind you, confused.

"You may not speak unless you start your sentences with 'MASTER', ****."The belt that was on her waist is now in her hands, ready for another strike. "You must always show respect for your master. Now ask me again. Correctly."

More stunned than anything, you comply this time in order to figure out why this thing is talking to you. "Mmmm-master, what the fuck is that sound?"

"Part of your training, ****." The woman grins, "You will hear it every time you eat, it is your choice whether or not you listen to it." She turns to the door and leaves, you can't help but steal a glance at her amazing ass.

A quick clunk and the door is closed in front of you. Not only do I have to service this piece of plastic to eat, but I get to listen to this thing as well. Great.

You sit, your face buried in some approximation of female genitalia, wondering if you're about to receive a mouthful of potato soup or cum. All the while, the damn thing continues to drone on: This is your purpose. You are a tool. A sex toy for others. You need cum. You live for it. After what seems like an eon of tonguing the thing, a fluid begins to flow from the fake vagina. Too thick to be water, but not thick enough to be cum. You think. Stopping your tongue's ministrations, you try to analyze the flavors that slowly seep your way. A tinge of salt, a neutral taste that you can't discern from your own spit, and suddenly the flavor changes. The slow drip quickly becomes a glop, then a mouthful. This is your purpose. You are a tool. A sex toy for others. You need cum. You live for it. The toy convulses momentarily, vagina contracting almost comically. You are greeted by a surprisingly thick fluid, herby, heavily textured, and quite delicious: SOUP. The toy continues to pulse out small dose after dose of soup. You are **** to adopt its rhythm in order to swallow in time for the next mouthful. The soup is heavenly, and you can feel your empty stomach beginning to fill with warmth. _This is your purpose. You are a tool. A sex toy for others. You need cum. You live for it. _Then, as soon as it began, it stopped. You are disappointed, and nowhere near full.

You look around for a moment, wondering if you should continue for a better meal, but you hear a subtle shifting sound below the floor. _The pipes are changing. _You bend down even lower to the ground, knees to your chest, trying to hear it better. The shifting noise stops, but after a moment, begins again, and then stops again. This repeats several times. Damn, there's no way to know where the pipes are now.