“Now tell me, isn’t
that a beautiful sight?” Anne asked as she tightened off the final strap and
stepped back.
Claire was completely encased from the top of her head to tip of her toes in a
skin tight
black leather suit and was hanging from a hook by metal rings attached near her
wrists.
Her arms were strapped together and to her head where they straddled it, and
her legs,
although individually cased in leather were tied tightly together from ankle to
crotch. A
rope passed from her ankles to a ring in the floor and Anne had heaved it tight
before
tying it off leaving Claire stretched vertically. Only one part of Claire’s
body was visible, her nipples, which protruded rudely through metal ringed holes in the suit’s breast cups.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Anne said. The two men gaped at the hanging body. “Those
straps
around her belly,” Greg pointed to the thick leather bands on top of the suit
which
encircled her abdomen, “are they tight?”
“Couldn’t get them any tighter,” Anne smiled. “She’ll feel like her womb is
being
crushed inside her, every contraction will bring minutes of pure agony.”
“What next . . .what do we do to her now?” The other
said.
Anne smiled. “See the rings around her nipples . . .take
a close look.” The two men
stepped up to Claire and touched the rings. “They’re threaded.” When they
turned back to Anne she was holding two metal tubes, each about two inches
long. “Screw these onto her nipple rings, but take a good look at them first, you might even guess what they’re for.”
The tubes were about half an inch in diameter, and were threaded internally.
“There’s a
spike inside,” said Adam, “surely it’ll go into her tit when we screw the tube
on won’t
it?”
“Uh huh, right in.” Anne said. Eagerly they screwed the tubes onto Claire’s nipple
rings; as they did the spikes pierced her nipples, and as they were tightened
the spikes passed through Claire’s nipples into the depths of her breasts but
she didn’t move or make a sound so tightly was she stretched.
“Now, connect the milking pipes to the bitches tits.”
Anne commanded and the men
eagerly obeyed. They almost came when they’d finished. “Ohhh
Geee…that’s fantastic.”
Claire hung completely still with a tube sticking straight out from each
breast. Each tube
went into what appeared to be a cow’s milking machine which was to one side on
the
floor below.
“Are we really going to milk her?” One said, “like a
cow?”
“Not quite.” Anne said, “you see the machine ‘s been
modified quite a bit. You can
damage a cow’s udders if you milk them with too much suction, but I reckoned
where
our bitch was concerned it didn’t much matter if we ruined her udders.”
“What’ll it do to her?” One asked, “will it hurt her,
damage her?”
“Hurt? She’ll feel like the inside of her tits are being sucked out . . .and they just about
will be. You see I’ve set the suction so high and taken out the safety cut-out
that it’ll
empty her tits in a few seconds, then it’ll pull on the milk sacs inside, every
tiny milk
gland, and it won’t stop pulling.
“Oh Gxxxx!” One said. “What
happens if we don’t stop the machine then?”
“It’ll slowly suck the insides of her tits out through her nipples.” Anne said
bluntly, “but
we don’t want to waste those lovely jugs yet do we?” The men shook their heads.
“I’ve
got better plans for them later,” she said, “when the bitch has birthed. Now,
who wants to switch on?”
A moment later Claire’s body shimmered in tiny movements ... that was all that
could be seen through the tight and completely restrictive leather bondage,
whilst continuous
muffled screams issued somewhere from within the gagged head. The long minutes
passed slowly for Claire as the indescribable pain in her pregnant belly and
the suction
inside her breasts melted into one unbelievable agony, she was in a void ...
falling into an abyss of sexual pain that threatened to destroy her very mind.
Mesmerized and in complete silence the trio watched the dance of torture as
Claire was
milked, then Greg screamed with excitement: "Look! She's giving
milk!" And indeed
small jet-like streams of yellow-white milk were spurting intermittently into
the glass
receiving flasks. Each spurt lasted for only a few seconds, but each spurt was
slightly
longer than the one before and Claire shuddered even more inside her bondage as
she felt the milk being drawn from the depths of her breasts. The seconds
passed into minutes and then an hour, and she
shuddered more and more until they thought she would surely rip herself from
the suit. Eventually Anne stopped the machine and pointed to the glass
receivers ...“Look,” she said, "look at the
bitch's milk now!" The frothing milk had the slightly red hue of tiny
droplets of fresh blood. She smiled. "I think her udders are well and
truly emptied don't you?"
They gave Claire a short respite of
twenty minutes, but kept her hanging in the same
torturous position and every hour Anne switched on that dreadful machine,
allowing it to milk her until her breasts once more oozed blood. Hour after
hour went by until finally Anne seemed satisfied. Having squeezed one of
Claire’s breasts through the soft leather, and with a sadistic grin twisting
her mouth she invited the two men closer. “Feel this,” she said. One of them
reached up and squeezed Claire’s right tit and his eyes widened in disbelief:
“It’s as hard as nails . . .rock solid ... you feel
it,” he said to his friend. He turned to the smirking Anne. “What’s happened to
her tits ... are they full of milk?”
“Watch.” Anne said. As she unleashed the leather thongs of the suit's brassiere
Claire’s
breast swelled out like a balloon: she undid the other and both breasts, like
melons,
protruded from Claire’s chest. “Her tits are just about bursting with milk,”
said Anne,
“she’s been milked so much and so hard that she’s producing milk faster than
any other
women has ever done,” then she sniggered an added, “or ever will do again.”
“Is she in terrible pain?” David asked hopefully.
"Pain?" Anne shrugged. “Imagine your balls
pumped so full of spunk that they’re the size of tennis balls and you can't cum
- do you think that would be painful?” David winced visibly. “It . . .she must be . . .”
“In absolute agony.” Anne concluded for him. “Her belly’s contracting every two
minutes and her tits are under so much pressure they’re ready to burst.”
“So what do we do to her now?” Greg asked, his excitement rising.
“Now?” Anne grinned wickedly. She took a fine cord and
looped it around Claire’s left
nipple. “Now we tie of her tits so they stay full and then we leave her. Her
tits will go on producing milk even though the milking’s
stopped. They’ll make so much milk she’ll feel like her tits are going to
burst.”
“Will they ... burst I mean?”
“No, of course not. Tits are very accommodating. I'm afraid she’ll just hang
there . . . in
agony.” Anne looked at her watch the said, “I want you to take a good look at
her tits -
see how big they are right now? Well, when we come back in eight hours I want
you both to take a ggod look at them! Believe me when
I tell you ... you’ll see the ultimate bitch in labour
- and the ultimate in milk-filled titties!”
TO BE CONTINUED
