by Jolene Avonn
As I thumped up and down on the cot, I used one hand to steady my breasts and one to massage my cunt. I was dripping wet, impossibly so, and my fingers slid so smoothly over my engorged lips that I had two inside before I even knew it. When Alex pounded down, it wedged my hand deeper – I was fucked in both holes, if I closed my eyes and imagined my stiff fingers as a cock. Faster and faster Alex went, and now there was lightning flashing across the backs of my eyelids as my palm mashed against my clit and Alex’s cock throbbed in my depths. I had no breath. No wind except what was knocked from my lungs. So when I came, I came like I thought I was dying. And I didn’t even care. I couldn’t gasp, couldn’t scream, couldn’t moan, couldn’t whisper. I simply froze, my head jerked back in the sweetest agony, my pussy pounding a climax against my hand, and my ass clenching tight on a surprised Alex’s girth with a million tiny spasms.
“Uhhh-unnnhh,” he moaned, his cock caught in a vice-like grip inside my randomly twitching body. “Rielle?”
I was slamming myself against the cot now, racked by the orgasm, and finally a muffled cry escaped my lips.
“I’m coming oh God Alex I’m coming.”
I continued to thrash until Alex tried an upward stroke. When he struggled, still staggered by my display, I pressed up and arched back toward him, working my way to my hands and knees and bending down to give him greater access.
He was done within ten savage thrusts. He pulled back, his cockhead just inside my ass, and paused. Was he studying the view? My perfectly split, perfectly available rear waving just for him? My sweat and cum shiny all along my thighs? All of it balancing carefully on the tip of his cock?
He surged forward and began to jackhammer against me. He whimpered once, and then started to come like a raging storm. His cock swelled up and unleashed torrent after torrent of his searing load. Warm streams ran down my legs like a waterfall. Alex leaned forward until his sweaty torso slid along my back and slicked me up even more. We writhed together until his last drops were pulled free by my clenching ass, and then he stood slowly, careful until his cock relented and weakened, sliding out with one last thrill of hard ridges against my innermost walls. I tipped over and held my pillow, staring at Alex as he blinked slowly at me.
We were both panting like beasts.
We were beasts.
My ass and hips and back ached like hell, but I didn’t care. I’d gotten what I wished for, and Alex had, too.
He pulled his pants back on, pausing to wipe his cock on the corner of my sheet, and then said, “Wish me luck, Rielle. I have to go.”
“I wish you could stay, Alex,” I whispered.
“I do, too,” he said. He leaned down one last time and kissed me. Our lips met and clung to each other like they were never meant to be apart. He flicked his tongue against mine and then stood, aware that a few more seconds might mean we’d have to wrap ourselves together again.
His outline filled the doorframe when he checked the hallway, and after a quick glance back he walked quickly away. The door clicked shut behind him and it was all I could do not to cry.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I rested my head on the cot right where Alex had cleaned himself. The damp circle smelled fresh and sweet and tangy, and the scent helped me maintain a buzzy afterglow that lulled me to sleep like the finest tinctures.
~~~
When dawn broke the next morning, I was sore and tired, just like after one of the regular night sessions. But this time, I smiled when the stiffness and pain awoke tender memories. Every twitch and pull reminded me of Alex – his heat, his scent, his power – and made me want to stay wrapped in the blanket on my cot until he came for me.
I knew he would.
Remember when I said I’d gotten what I wished for? Well, at some point in the night, I had a dream that changed my mind. I hadn’t gotten everything.
In my dream, Alex and I are strolling through a park. We stop by a pond and sit on a hard wooden bench. We’re watching a child a few yards away. She’s tiny. Maybe five or six years old. Alex hugs me close and calls out something, a name lost to the dreamscape. The child turns and begins to run toward us. She leaps into my lap.
She is ours.
The only way I could make that dream come true would be to escape. Escape from the school and the master. And I needed Alex to come with me.
The Milkman knocked at my door and entered. He said nothing, and I obediently took my position. Another man, a stranger, followed him inside.
“Calvin, what’s this?” I asked, my eyes round with surprise.
No response.
The agile stranger dropped to the floor and slid slowly and precisely under my low-hanging tit. He opened his mouth wide and held his lips mere centimeters from my nipple. His hot breath warmed the skin above.
The Milkman gripped my breast and tugged down as expertly as always. The first stream of milk splashed into the stranger’s mouth and he moaned in pleasure. White rivers ran down his chin and neck. He smiled up at me, transfixed by my pendulous breasts.
I wanted to weep in frustration – I had planned to ask Calvin about escaping – but I couldn’t. The pleasure was already too great. I bowed my head and lowered myself toward the man. My nipple found his desperate lips, and he suckled until my pussy was once more wet and yearning.
END
THE MILKING CONTRACT
Jolene Avonn
The day after my last meeting with Alex, I was led to the old hotel’s former exercise room. Mirrors lined all four walls of the small space, and from the way my escort, Calvin, positioned me, I knew there must be men watching. Somewhere. Either through one-way glass or over closed circuit TV.
Calvin ushered in nine more women and, when he passed by again he whispered, “Make sure you’re the last to leave. Alex has given me a message for you.”
I tried to suppress my reaction. I stared straight ahead, focusing on my reflection. On this day, we all wore new outfits for our group milking: tight black vinyl leggings and a complicated set of narrow leather straps that formed a perverse, open bra. The straps looped over our shoulders, squeezed in tight circles around our breasts, and secured in the back. The effect was stunning – our enormous, bare mammaries were squeezed out until our nipples stretched and leaked.
The sensation of being presented in such a manner was also intensely pleasing, I admit. When Calvin began administering the creamy blue salve on the first woman in line she gasped in pleasure and my sex awakened in the warmth of the tight vinyl. I heard the slick sounds of Calvin’s skilled hands as they slipped and slid all over my companion’s large chest. Her face was bright red and her legs shook as she groaned and leaned against him.
Calvin moved to the next woman, and the next, slathering each with healthy helpings of the salve that drove us all mad with a lust for milking. I closed my eyes as he approached. I wanted to savor the first moment of contact.
When his warm hand cupped my left tit and swirled salve around my nipple, I let out a low sigh and my head sagged. Calvin pulled my areola out, twisting and squeezing, until I ached. The salve’s effect was instantaneous. I watched through hazy vision as Calvin prepared my right tit. The flesh rippled and flowed over his skilled fingers, blue veins faint underneath the skin, brown nipples crying tiny tears of sweet milk.
Once he’d finished with all ten women, Calvin went to an old red phone in the corner of the room and picked up the receiver.
“Yes, sir,” he said quietly. He set the receiver down.
“Ladies, please drop to your hands and knees.”
We obeyed, sinking down to the blue exercise mats below. I looked down the line at my companions. It was a beautiful sight. We’d all been exposed to the same mysterious salves and tinctures, and all of us hefted breasts that nearly touched the ground below as we held our positions. My nipples were mere inches from the mat; the woman to my right side was grazing hers across the floor, trembling with pleasure.
I heard a door click shut. Calvin walked in front of
us carrying several machines with two clear tubes that fed into matching metal canisters. He stopped and tapped me on the shoulder.
“Rielle will be the first. Do not be alarmed by any noises. These machines are perfectly safe.”
Calvin knelt and slid the tubes under me. That’s when I saw the wide suction cups at the ends, and that’s when I understood that we were going to be milked automatically for the men watching.
Calvin pressed a cup to my slippery right breast and pushed up until my nipple and soft flesh filled the plastic. He flicked a switch on the machine and it started to hum. At first I felt nothing, but soon there was a slight tugging at my nipple. Then a little harder. Then quite firm, and followed by the tight, wet sounds of suction against my skin.
“Oooohhhh,” I whispered, puffing breaths in and out. The machine was sucking me like a sloppy and determined lover. It sent shivers up and down my back. My tits swayed together as I wobbled. Calvin steadied me, allowing me to get used to the sensation, and then raised the second cup to my left tit.
Immediately, my nipple was sucked into the plastic. Both of my breasts throbbed with a steady thrum thrum thrum vibrating up from the machine. I closed my eyes and concentrated on staying upright. The machine began pulling milk from me in quick sprays that filled the cup and tubes with milk. Each squirt was like an orgasmic explosion in my chest, and they came faster and faster as the machine warmed up. I didn’t even notice Calvin expertly sliding a hand under the waist of my leggings until he activated the small, firm vibrating pad that he placed against my pussy. It, too, was connected to the machine by a small cord, and it hummed over my clit in time with the frenzied milking.
Thrum thrum thrum.
One tit squeezed, then the other, and then my pussy buzzed with heat. Faster and faster, until I whimpered helplessly.
Calvin stepped away to hook up my neighbor to her own machine. Her cries of shamed delight soon joined mine, and within ten minutes all of us were connected to machines and crying out in pleasure as we were milked and stimulated with ruthless efficiency. I threw my head back and saw our reflections in the mirror: sweaty faces, milk seeping from the cups and covering the mats below; shaking thighs rocked by continuous climaxes; and our breasts pulsing and rippling as they spurted.
The phone buzzed twice. Calvin responded to a command from the other end: “Yes sir, right away.”
After he’d hung up, he returned to my side. The machine was sucking rapidly and I could barely focus on what was happening. Calvin stroked my hair and whispered something, and then removed one suction cup from my breast. The sound of strong suction whooshed underneath me as he laid the cup on the mat. He hooked fingers in the waistband of my vinyl pants and tugged them down to my thighs, exposing my ass and drenched sex. As I quivered and watched between my dangling tits, one cup still sucking me, Calvin placed the other cup against my pussy and held it there.
“Ohhhhhh fuck,” I grunted. The machine’s suction tugged at my pussy lips until they filled the cup. They blossomed open and coated the inside of the plastic with my juices. My clit slowly engorged itself and I found myself unable to hold back my delight. I jerked and writhed uncontrollably as the machine milked my tit and pulled at my pussy. Calvin took his hand away and moved to another part of the room. I balanced on my hands and knees and let the rush of pleasure carry me to new heights.
Thrum thrum thrum.
I lifted my head up and stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes were hazy with lust. I looked like an animal – on all fours, shaky, eyes glistening and wide, mouth slack, lips plump.
For some reason I fought hard to delay my climax. I squatted back and pushed my thighs together, but that only served to wedge the glorious cup against my cunt. I bit down on my tongue until I tasted a tiny trickle of blood. But once I heard another woman lose herself to a series of rising cries, I couldn’t hold out. I released myself to the demonic machine and let my voice join the chorus of climaxing women. I widened my knees and began to writhe, rolling and rocking my hips like I was fucking a ghost underneath me. My tits slapped against my belly as I bucked harder and harder. The machine pulled more and more creamy cum from my cunt, mixing it with the stream of milk delivered to the canisters. For some thirsty man to guzzle, no doubt.
I leaned down, pressing my tits to the floor. The sucking forces on my nipple felt like a lover’s mouth ravaging me. My pussy leaked cum like a faucet. I was wet and overheating and coming like a banshee. Calvin watched silently from the corner, ear pressed to the phone’s receiver, nodding occasionally to the men behind the mirrors.
I imagined Alex on the other side and each time I moaned, I did it for him.
I don’t even remember Calvin unhooking the machine or guiding the other near-comatose women from the room later. I rolled on to my back and tugged my leggings up over shaking thighs. I shuddered with each breath, trying to relax, and ripples spread over my breasts in slow waves.
“Rielle! Rielle!” Calvin whispered frantically. “Take this. From Alex. Now go!”
I snatched a piece of paper from Calvin and tucked it into my waistband. Still held tight by the leather straps over my chest, I walked back down the hallway to my room. My breasts were nearly purple from the intensity of the machine’s suction, and they bounced enough to cause flashes of brilliant pain. I padded softly and flat-footed, trying to stay stable. Once I reached my room I collapsed on my cot and flung the straps to the floor, eager to massage my chest until it felt better.
~~~
This is what Alex’s note said:
Dearest Rielle –
I was discovered soon after leaving your room. Master took me to his chambers. He punished me. I’ve not endured that sort of punishment before, and hope to never again.
We have only one way out, Rielle. And it is not ideal.
Master wants you impregnated. He will set us free if you willingly take all visitors until you are with child. Then, you will suckle his most select group of clients. If you pass these tests, we will be released with the child and we will never know of Master again.
I will try to visit you, Rielle. If you are to bear a child, I want it to be mine.
A.
I held the paper to my chest and lay still on my cot until the world stopped spinning. It wasn’t Master’s demands that shocked me – it was Alex’s declaration.
I want it to be mine.
All through the treatments and milkings, I slowly began to suspect that Master was planning on impregnating me. I knew that my former nursemaid Maggie had eventually departed for another section of the compound, where the other pregnant women lived, and part of me craved to make the same move.
And one very quiet, shy part of me wanted Alex to be the one to send me there. My stepfather had always been my protector. He’d always been my friend. At the compound he’d turned into my clandestine lover. And now...
Frustration welled in my chest. And now...I didn’t know what to do. More men would appear, undoubtedly. I’d continue to enjoy the strange milking and suckling tasks set before me. My only choice was to hold out hope for a secret visit from my lover.
~~~
The next day, Calvin brought another new stranger to a private milking session in my room. The man had red hair and a soft, shy smile. He barely made eye contact with me. Calvin asked me to lay flat on my cot, and I did. I wore my standard uniform: the small cotton panties and nothing else. My breasts had recovered from the machines, and in fact were aching for release once more. A happy sense of calm washed over me. This nice quiet man was going to enjoy my ample bosom, and I was going to benefit as well.
That’s when things got interesting.
I’d always wondered about the thick metal ring anchored in the ceiling above my bed. Calvin patted me once on the thigh and then dragged a chair to the foot of my bed. He stood on the chair and reached up to guide a thick piece of rope through the ring. Dropping back down the floor, he briskly wrapped one end of the rope tight around my ankles and pulled the oth
er end until my legs raised straight toward the ceiling.
“Calvin!” I gasped as he continued pulling.
“Shhhhh,” the stranger said, covering my lips with a slender finger. “It’s okay, milkmaid. You’re safe with me.”
I held the edges of the cot as my hips lifted free.
“Who are you?” I said.
“Call me Sir,” he said.
Calvin pulled three more times and jerked me free of the cot. I spun, upside-down and suspended from the ceiling. I tried to grab the cot to steady myself but the man called Sir wrapped my arms around my back and bound them with a smaller piece of rope. Calvin tied off the main line and backed away.
“Shit!” I said. Blood rushed to my head and my breasts surged against my chin like huge pillows. Panic spread like lightning and I began to beg.
“Please, Sir,” I said. “I’ll do whatever you say. Just let me down.”
“Be calm, milkmaid,” Sir said. “I’ll be the last before you’re bred, so there will certainly be no harm done.”
He slowly disrobed, carefully removing his shirt and pants and folding them neatly before placing them on the cot. His skin was smooth and his body was nicely muscled – not overly bulky, but showing a sinewy power. As he stepped out of his boxers I realized he was shaved bare, making his already large cock even more impressive. It hung thick and relaxed against his thigh. My mouth began to water, a symptom of both my salves and my desire.
