New Life
You had only ever known suffering.
If there was ever a time that you had known something else, it was so long ago that you had forgotten not only what it was, not only that you had ever remembered it, but even that it was possible to conceive of anything but the suffering. 
And the suffering was absolute.
You were perfectly trapped. Your body was held tight. Your legs were stuck together. Your wings were pinned to your sides. Your claws were balled up and unable to move. You didn't know what it would be like to move them. You couldn't even think about what it might be like.
You were in pain. You didn't know it was called pain. It was just the thing that you always felt.
There was the pain in your beak, sore from eons of being held uncomfortably wide open by a long, thick tentacle that reached down your throat, deep into your body so you could feel it in your chest. You would gag and choke on it as it slid in and out of you, though it never moved far enough out that the muscles in your beak got a break.
There was the pain in your tailhole, stretched by something massive covered in dull spikes. It would shrink, offering you some brief respite, then swell until you felt like it would tear you apart. It would thrust in and out of you, straining your vent, mashing up your insides, digging its spikes into the walls of your sensitive hole. 
There was the pain that would course through your body from seemingly anywhere, your skin, your tailhole, your cock, making your muscles tense and your skin burn. You never knew when it would happen next. You were constantly on edge, constantly afraid of when the next Hurt would make you gasp and cry out into the thing in your beak.
There was the pain in your lungs, burning for oxygen. You would struggle to pull what little of the stale, recycled air you could through the narrow tubes shoved deep into your nares. Sometimes it would get easier for a bit, the air would get fresher, reminding you of what you were missing. Other times it cut off completely, leaving you straining and struggling as panic overcame you and your head became light and fuzzy, before it opened again and you were able to slowly, ever so slowly replenish your lost breath.
There was the pain in your cock. It spent most of its life held tightly in your slit by some kind of spiked plate. There were almost constant vibrations around your slit, which would almost be pleasurable if not for how they made your cock swell painfully against the spikes. Sometimes the vibrations would get stronger, making you moan and try to thrust against them, feeling something building inside you despite the pain. It would get stronger and stronger, you would feel closer and closer to something as the pleasure built, though you didn't know what. If you had ever cum, it had been so long ago that you didn't remember such a thing was possible. You would get so close to it, could feel that with just a few more seconds the pressure inside of you would be released, but then the vibrations would cut off as a powerful Hurt coursed through your swollen and sensitive cock and the spikes pressed deeper into your slit.
And there was the pain in your mind, deprived of all other stimuli. You couldn't see, though you didn't even know that was a thing someone could do. Your earholes were filled with something, leaving you only barely able to hear your own muffled cries. 
And then, it was over. 
For some time, though you couldn't say how long, you didn't realize it was over. Then you noticed your lungs weren't burning. You could breathe. You had been able to breathe for some time now. You could smell things. You hadn't known that was a thing that was possible, but it was happening.
Then you noticed your beak was empty. More than empty, it was closed! You tried opening it, and it did that too. 
And then you noticed the rest of it. Your tailhole was empty. There were no spikes in your slit. The hurts had stopped. There was nothing holding you tight from all sides, except for something hard under your back. You could hear things; shuffling, birds chirping, though you didn't know that's what they were. You tried to move your wing, and you could feel it move! Then your talons, your head. You sat up. 
You felt something brush against your beak, but it didn't hurt. It felt good. It was warm and soothing and gentle. You leaned forward and something else touched your head and ran through your feathers and down your neck. It was the greatest feeling you had ever experienced. You leaned forward more, clumsily throwing more of your body towards the thing that feels good, the only thing you've ever known that feels good. Your wings rubbed against the thing before you, feeling its fluffy parts, its scaly parts. Your beak met something warm and soft and it felt so good and you rubbed your beak against it. The other things ran down your back and your sides and touched your feathers and rubbed you all over and it felt incredible. Out of instinct you cooed, the first noise other than a cry or a moan of pain you had ever made. 
Then the thing gently pushed you back and posed you on your knees, with your head pointed up. Something brushed against your face, over your eyes, one of the few things you could control that you hadn't yet. So you opened your eyes.
Your breath caught in your throat. Even though you didn't know what seeing was, and even though knew nothing about the world, and even though He hadn't yet explained it to you, you knew.
You knew that this bird had saved you. You knew that you belonged to Him, that you would serve Him, and that this was right. You knew that He was the most important thing in the world.
You knew He was Master.
Master taught you everything. He taught you to speak, to read, to write. He taught you to move and think and fight. He taught you how to serve Him, how to please Him, how to make Him cum.
Master freed you from suffering. He could have demanded your eternal service for alleviating any one of your sufferings and you would still fall to your knees before Him. But not only did He take them all away, but He is so much more generous than even this. 
When you're good, He pets your feathers, your wings, your beak, pure joy radiating from every point He touches. He calls you a good bird, He says you are serving Him well, words that give you more pleasure than you knew it was possible to feel in your previous life. Sometimes He even takes the plate from your slit and touches your cock, makes you feel that solitary pleasure you used to know, but without the pain. When He's done, instead of a horrible Hurt through your exposed cock, He gives you a gentle pet and locks you back up. Once, He even touched you for those last few seconds, brought you over that edge you didn't even know was possible to pass, and let you release. 
Your life only contains tiny remnants of pain, small pieces of The Bad Place. When you're bad, Master only makes you feel those sharp Hurts for a few moments. When He uses your beak, His cock only blocks your air for a few minutes. When He uses your vent, He’s often gentle and it feels good, but even when He's rough, the pain is nothing like what your tailhole used to feel. Only when He lends you out to His dragon friends do you feel anything that gets close.
Sometimes He sends you back to The Bad Place, when you're especially bad, when He doesn't have any use for you, or just because He wants to. You don't fight it. You thank Him for the chance to serve Him. You thank Him for using you. Without Him, you would still be suffering. Any time you spend outside of that place is a gift. 
And even though the pain is the same, even though the restraint is just as tight and the Hurts are just as strong and your tailhole is being stretched just as much, the suffering is so much less now that it is only temporary, when you can think about how good it will feel to be out again, to serve Him, to hear His words, to feel His touch. Every pain in there is a reason to be grateful, a reminder of what He has spared you from. You thank Him, moaning the incoherent, muffled words into the tentacle in your throat every time a Hurt courses through your body, every time you feel like the thing in your vent is going to break you open, every time you are brought to the edge of release before having your cock crushed back into your slit. And when your air is cut off, you thank Him in your mind.