Warm and Sweet, Vol. 1

by Jolene Avonn

  I was breathing fast now, scared beyond belief. Maggie stroked my hair and whispered soothing words.

  “We’ve all had to do it, Rielle,” she said. “You’ll soon be one of the family.”

  “But I’m scared,” I whispered through chattering teeth.

  “Don’t be, little one,” she said.

  Then she skillfully jerked my smock, tearing it free and exposing my unnaturally large breasts. Next, she tore my shorts and pulled them off as well.

  My entire body shook. I couldn’t see the man anymore – he’d remained by the entrance. The lamps surrounding the room dimmed until I could barely make out the faces of the women around me.

  Then the man was between my legs. I could just raise my head enough to see him. He was naked except for the hood. His cock was rigid...and enormous. His powerful chest rippled with muscles that were already showing drops of sweat. He placed a huge hand on my calf and worked his way slowly up to my thigh, the heat of his fingers astonishing me and sending shockwaves to the back of my neck.

  “A fine, fine subject,” he said softly. He continued trailing his fingers up and down my thighs, coming closer and closer to my pussy. My flesh trembled under his touch. My body began to yearn for something...something very specific.

  It yearned to be taken.

  The man stood with his cock brushing my now-slippery entrance, and he reached forward to caress my aching breasts. They already leaked a sticky warm pre-milk from each nipple, and as soon as he gripped each one, milk flowed freely and pooled in my cleavage and trailed to my navel.

  “Ohhhhhhh,” I moaned, unable to control myself. I arched up and cried out. He brought hot relief just where I needed it. The salve had made my breasts swell to the point of bursting. “Please, more.” I pleaded and pleaded as he massaged my breasts slowly.

  The man began milking me in earnest. He pushed my throbbing tits together until both sprayed streams of milk. Then he bent forward, raised his hood slightly, and suckled from each one, his hot mouth eager and powerful as he sucked so hard that he pulled my nipples high off my chest. All I could do was watch as he had his way with me, always sliding his cock slowly against my pussy as he ravaged my swollen globes. Once his cock was slick with my juices I had to drop my head into Maggie’s waiting arms. I could no longer keep my head up – the pleasure was too immense.

  When the man was sated he tugged his hood down again and leaned back. The black fabric was soaked in creamy milk, and the streams running down his chest dribbled all the way to the floor.

  “Maggie, it is time,” he said sternly, still working his thick shaft against my cunt. I quaked under his teasing; then I looked up and back and saw Maggie’s huge breasts dangling directly above my face.

  “Suckle, little one,” she said softly, lowering her left nipple to my lips. “Quickly!”

  Just as my mouth met her wide, light brown nipple, the man’s cock pierced my throbbing sex. My head jerked up in surprise. Maggie grabbed the back of my neck and leaned down at the same time, filling my mouth with her entire slick nipple and a huge dose of milk. I choked and sputtered against her, trying to cry out against the violent pain between my legs. This clearly wasn’t the same man as the night before – this man was longer and wider and much more brutal.

  But Maggie silenced me with her steady pressure. The man began to rhythmically slam into me, savaging me to the point of blacking out, but when I concentrated on Maggie’s milk and began suckling as hard as I could, the pain disappeared in a haze. I gulped against Maggie’s tit. I practically devoured it. I heard her cry out as I pulled her toward me with her teeth. I jerked up again as the man’s mouth found my own tits and began sucking even harder than before. He fucked and sucked me in a crazed, frantic rhythm, thrusting so hard that the sturdy wooden frame below us rocked and creaked under the assault. I could feel the actual ridges in his cock as it coursed in and out of my tight inner walls. His cockhead was like a wedge against my deepest reaches, and every time he filled me completely I winced and screamed into the safety of Maggie’s chest.

  She switched me to her other tit after I’d ravaged the first. The man had released my breasts and grabbed on to my hips for leverage. Grunting angrily, he reached down to crank a lever beneath the frame, and it slowly spread me wider and wider, until my legs were almost at a 180-degree angle and I thought I’d split. He buried himself inside me again and again, shouting savagely and gripping my thighs with fingers like talons.

  Something about the change in angle, or the heavy doses of Maggie’s milk, drove me over the edge. The man’s cockhead thrummed against my clit each time he withdrew and pounded forward. Each electric shock sent a flash to the nipple he squeezed and milked; each burst there made me clamp down harder on Maggie and suck crazily. The total immersion in the moment turned me into something different – a beast, of sorts. I bucked wildly on the frame and tried to hurl my hips at the hooded man. I ground my clit against his abdomen when he bottomed-out and held there, working deep into my gut with circles of his ridiculous girth. An initial spasm deep in my cunt spread outward, my pussy gripping his cock maniacally, and then my entire body began to convulse as I was overtaken by a complete and utter explosion of pleasure. I strained against the straps at my wrists and ankles until I bled from the abrasions. I suckled Maggie so hard that she fell back, spent. I screamed out again and again and tried to grip down on my new Master’s dick until he couldn’t pull it out of me...and this drove him to pummel me even harder. The sloppy wet sounds from where he worked told me I was drenching him with milky-white cum, and the idea thrilled me.

  I heard a strong grunt from his direction, saw a quick wave of the arms, and then the other women in the room descended on me. A new nipple found its way to my mouth and I suckled again. Hands covered my chest and pulled at my massive tits until I sprayed milk to any yearning mouth. Master fucked me until my hips raised off the cross, until my pussy spasmed again with a second, sudden orgasm, and then he shouted high above all the other moans and lusty cries:

  “Now, my subjects!”

  I tilted my head up to watch his straining face as he tensed and jerked forward, sending the first huge stream of cum into my ravaged cunt.

  His face.

  He pulled back, whispering desperately to himself, “It’s not the time!” and then I saw his massive cock shiny in the dim light. It tensed, swelled, and then shot a rope of cum on to my tits. Then another. And another. The streams kept raining down on me and all the women clutching at my midsection. They began lapping eagerly at the mix of milk and semen that dripped down. It was all of their milk – all of our milk – and the luscious fluid sent them into convulsions of their own. They paired off, mashing their mouths to each other’s tits and pussies, coming in crazed twisting piles, as Master continued to shoot streams over us. When he finally stopped, I was drenched and covered with a dozen lapping tongues. Even Maggie was busy licking up and down my left side, groaning like an animal in heat. She rose up to kiss me deeply, sending her coated tongue against mine in a heady mix of milk, semen, sweat, and pussy.

  All this time, I kept returning to the man’s face, and he stared steadily at mine.

  It was Alex.

  I realize now I must have known almost from the start. I’d craved Alex’s scent and presence for a lot longer than I wanted to admit. But now...and here?

  I didn’t know what to think.

  He saw the recognition in my eyes and turned quickly, stalking out the door before any of the other women even realized he was gone. I tried to call out to him, but Maggie’s lips met my own again and I was quickly drawn back into an orgy of untold proportions. I was carefully unstrapped and placed on a large blanket. Then, lovingly, each woman joined in and pleasured me until I was delirious. I had countless tongues and fingers enter my pussy, and ass, and mouth. More and more milk, full breasts rubbing all up and down my entire body, and the constant sound of climaxing women around me.

  It was, in a word, delightful.

>   It was also my family. I knew it in my heart.

  ~~~

  Much, much later, I lay on my cot, almost unable to move an inch – not from a tincture or cream this time, but sheer exhaustion. I thought about the look on Alex’s face. Was he afraid? Worried that I’d resist? That I’d demand to be let go?

  Of course part of me thought that’s exactly what I should have done. But Alex’s treatments and trials awakened something in me. They brought secret feelings and fantasies to the forefront. I realized that night that there was nowhere else I wanted to be. I loved Maggie like I loved Alex – instantly, and completely, and I wanted to stay with this family forever.

  What had he meant by “It’s not the time?” Why did he pull out? Questions washed over me in waves.

  Most importantly, what would come next?

  I wasn’t sure, but I was perfectly willing to find out.

  In fact, I couldn’t wait.

  END

  KEPT AND MILKED

  Jolene Avonn

  Things did not proceed as I’d expected after my initiation into my new “family.” Maggie, the woman who had helped me acclimate to the strange new world of tinctures, salves, milking, and much more, no longer visited my small room. In her place, a wiry dark-haired man with strong arms and an expressionless gaze. I called him The Milkman; he never spoke to me so I never learned his true name. Every day he entered my room at 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. He forced me to crawl on all fours toward his bucket, into which he milked me efficiently and without fanfare.

  I no longer wore the sheer white smock that marked me a newcomer. I had only the standard small, simple cotton panties and a pair of sandals to wear when I strolled the grounds. My chest was always bare, my breasts always accessible. I learned in the weeks after my initiation that we occupied an old, once-abandoned boarding school in the foothills outside of my former hometown. There were plenty of rooms like mine, with at least a dozen occupied by women like me.

  The other rooms...well, they had different uses.

  After my breasts reached a certain size – so full and supple they spilled over my hands when I cupped them – they stopped growing so quickly, and instead began filling more rapidly with milk. They never turned firm; in fact, they were softer than ever before. Quite literally like large balloons filled with gel or jelly or water. They swayed side-to-side as I walked; they spread out wide when I lay flat on my back; and they hung low, my nipples distended and dripping, when I crawled for The Milkman. The sensations were at once glorious and stressful. I always felt about to burst, and each eruption of trickling milk delighted me like a lover’s tongue against my flesh.

  My hips also seemed rounder, wider even. My ass and thighs, still firm, grew to be voluptuous. The tinctures were making me plump in an admittedly pleasing way.

  The Milkman’s hands were soft, probably from the balm he worked into my nipples and breasts before he worked. I have to concede that his touch was pleasurable even though he barely seemed to notice me, and I felt less than human when he drained my swollen tits. It must have been the continued effects of the tea-like tinctures I drank with each meal – the same mixtures that made my breasts full also made my tormented pussy rage with desire.

  The nameless, quiet man sometimes stroked the small of my back before he switched from one breast to the other. He always made sure that my long blonde braid stayed away from the sloshing buckets. He never sampled the warm, sweet milk that spurted from my nipples. The motion, and sense of release, gave me great pleasure that I tried to hide.

  By the time he completed his milking for the session, I’d usually have come at least once. Quietly. Biting my lip, begging my thighs not to tremor with telltale shivers. There was no escaping it. The man’s hands squeezed me so perfectly that pleasure was unavoidable. I stared at the floor, trying not to let my eyes linger too long on his crotch as he crouched on a stool before me. What I would have given for a continuation of his tender work! Why wouldn’t he continue sliding his hand past my back, to my ass, between my cheeks, letting those warm and skilled fingers explore my most intimate places?

  He pulled and tugged on each tit like it was precious, each motion sending thrills into my chest. The spurts felt like what I imagine a man’s orgasm to be – a throbbing, quick burst of joy – only, they repeated for me over and over as the man splashed my milk into his vessel. I wobbled side to side under his methodic movements, and my pussy grew warm and wet enough to dampen my panties. The sensuous heat wiped away the pain I felt from kneeling for so long on the cold floor.

  I craved the man I called The Milkman, and he always, always left moments before I was overcome.

  The cruelty!

  After the quiet man finished his delightful torture, I usually returned to my cot to gather myself. I stayed flat on my back, allowing my breasts to wobble gently while I cupped and massaged them. The room was always kept warm, so my skin was already flushed with heat. I tried to make the wonderful sensations last as long as possible by smearing my milk into my ridged nipples until I gasped. I held my tits firm to my chest and reveled in every ounce of compression my tiny hands could provide, and then, once I’d teased myself enough, I eased a hand between my legs and let my fingers slide right into the heightening wetness. I dipped my middle finger down low, covering it completely in the warmest juices, and tugged it upward toward my clit. Over and over I did this, drowning my outer folds in wet heat, all while I rubbed my swollen tits with my free hand. Occasionally a stray stream splashed across my lips. I could not help sampling myself, and the milk was sweet and delicious.

  I know that I need not tell you this delightful self-pleasure soon reached a fevered pitch. My fingers soon pushed further into my depths and my pussy, warm and tight, would tremble and squeeze against my relentless hand until the first true spasms of yet another orgasm exploded forth. When the white-hot wave overtook me, I arched up off my cot in silent ecstasy, afraid to cry out in case someone heard me.

  Then I would fall slack on the cot, panting, until I could stand again.

  I began to crave the milkings. I yearned for them. I woke up early and paced my room; in the evenings, I was already down on the floor in the proper position when The Milkman arrived. He’d set his pail down with a light thump and sigh with just a hint of satisfaction. I think he lingered longer each time, perhaps enjoying the heat I gave off in thick waves.

  ~~~

  Now I must tell you about the night sessions. Again, I do not know names. Only sensations based on how various people worked. And it was work, do not be fooled. I have no idea if these strangers found any pleasure in what they did to me.

  But first: What happened to Alex? At this point, I wasn’t sure. Many had intimated that my stepfather was the mysterious “Master” at the school. He’d performed my initiation, and I thought he was responsible for my kidnapping. However, everything was thrown into doubt once the night sessions began. I didn’t see Alex again for a long, long time. I began to think I truly was a captive in that place, rather than a member of any particular “family.”

  The first night session came ten days after my initiation. No man had touched me since Alex, aside from my twice-daily milkings. Sometime around midnight my door burst open, the noise of the handle slamming the wall waking me from a deep, tincture-enhanced sleep. There had been two cups of tea with dinner that night and the extra dose left me hazy and confused. I blinked at the light from the hallway and tried to dodge away from the shadowy form approaching, but it was no use. Muscular arms swept under me, hefting me into a fireman’s carry, and I was taken quickly from my room.

  I tried to speak but I couldn’t. Then I tried to yell, panic bracing me awake, but I found my throat and voice strangely paralyzed. This made everything doubly scary. I kicked out my legs but they hardly moved. I realized I was fighting against the immobilizing tincture Maggie had used to sedate me during our first sessions – only this one was more potent.

  After we’d passed down several corridors, I quit struggl
ing and slumped into the man’s chest. He breathed easily and kept his light gray eyes aimed forward. He had fair features – dirty blonde hair cut short, a golden five o’clock shadow – and he was tall and trim. I didn’t feel an ounce of fat under his black shirt, and the ease with which he lifted me revealed his strength.

  The man took me to a long, narrow, and windowless room lined with six beds that resembled medical exam tables. They were low to the ground and half the width of twin-sized mattress. To my alarm, there were cuffs, chains, and straps draped across each. Red-orange lights hung over each bed, giving the room an eerie glow.

  He took me to the last bed on the far end and slung me down roughly on my side. I was shaking now, barely able to move any more than that, and I struggled to see his face in the dim light.

  I heard a surprised grunt behind me. I turned to see Maggie thrown down on the bed next to mine, and an equally imposing figure towering over her.

  I tried to say her name but my cry was still frozen in my throat. From the expression on Maggie’s face – eyes wide and shiny with panic – she was clearly under the influence of the same drug. Somewhere in that quick moment we shared, I felt her say “Don’t worry, Rielle,” even if no words were spoken.

  Maggie’s captor shoved her roughly and began strapping her down so that her large breasts were pushed high off her chest. He snugged the straps extra tight above and below her heaving mounds, so tight that milk was already leaking down her sides. Then he tore her panties off and lunged.

  My captor grabbed me by the chin and jerked my face toward his.

  “Pay no attention to her!” he snapped. “Get me ready, you filthy animal!”

  He’d unzipped his pants, and his half-erect member hung close to my face. I could smell his eager, warm scent – the smell of sex and earth and sweat that clings to men in their most savage regions.