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Setting the Centerpiece
The day has finally arrived, and i am nervous, horny, hopeful, fearful, and totally subsumed, already, in what is to come. You have invited several Masters, and invited them to bring their slave girls, of course, to dinner. i think there are a couple of Mistresses as well, though I am unsure as to the genders of their slaves. Rules for the evening are simple enough. Slaves do not get clothes once they are in the house, and will be expected to serve the dinner.
A couple of Your friends loaned you their slaves for the afternoon, and i have been busy with them in the kitchen getting dinner ready. They have been allowed to eat. i haven't eaten since lunch yesterday. The kitchen which looks on to the dining room....with the table...and the stand upon the turntable...and the contraption up on that turntable...i shudder in longing and fear every time i look at it.
Each shudder hurts my overly milk-ladden udders, of course. Once i began to lactate, shortly after that wonderful night when the pain began, You ordered me to milk myself several times a day. You even preformed some of the milking yourself...sometimes without the pump.
i feel my nipples grow hard and stop myself from that line of thought, i have more food to prepare. Still, my mind wanders back to the last several weeks. You demanded me milked a little more each day, and gave me small doses of hormones or herbal remedies when the increase in my production slowed. Then, yesterday, you ordered me to stop milking.
my breasts had already changed cup sizes several times, and now milk tries to come out of them any time i moved too fast. It hurts, it feels wonderful, it feels horrible...it is distracting me. i try to revel in the pain and prepare the meal at the same time.
Dinner is finally ready. You put a finger inside me, pull me to the kitchen table, and guide me as i step onto a chair then the table. The table is large, round, reinforced and specially designed. There is a turntable in the middle just big enough for me to squat and then lean back and put my hands down. Not that such a position would be comfortable. Not that my comfort matters this night.
The table is a bit larger around than the turntable. Big enough for place settings, but small enough that those sitting down can reach whatever...whoever...is in the middle. The turntable has a wooden post coming up from one side. The post has a v-shaped 'seat' at the level of my ass if I am squatting down. The 'seat' comes under each butt cheek when I squat, but has a sharp V shape which keeps it from touching my pussy.
i squat down on the seat. my knees come up level with my breasts. A sharp look from You and i quickly open my knees, smiling nervously and bowing in obedience. There is a hinge in the post which can allow me to lean back, but You currently have something in place preventing that hinge from moving and keeps that section of post straight up. The post goes up from there, has another hinge that currently goes towards me, a spot where it flares out a bit and has a cushion, and then has a clasp on the end.
Back at the bottom of the post, just a little above the seat, are rings and clasps. You put my hands behind me and secure my cuffs to those rings.
The turntable itself has a great many holes. You snap and point, and one of the other slaves gets under the table to help You thread a chain down from each ankle cuff, under the turn-table, over the front of the foot, back through the turntable, and up to the ankle cuff, securely locking my feet into position.
The slave under the table tries to crawl out, but you kick her (not hard enough to leave a mark) back into place. You placed cuffs just above my knees, and you run a chain from each of these under the table, and the slave dutifully passes them back up. With these short chains attached my legs are held open wide.
You take two more short lengths of chain, attach them to my labia rings, and pass them through the table, instructing the slave beneath to attach them together once my pussy lips are stretched enough for you.
You turn the table till i am facing away from you, push me slightly forward, and let the upper part of the post lie on my back. The turntable moves again till i am 90 degrees from you and you grab my hair, pull me further forward, attach the top of the post to my collar, then lock the hinge which is part way up the post in place.
To describe the resulting position as obscene would give the term new definition. i am in a squatting position, the chains on my labia and the now-rigid post attached to my collar prevent me for rising. my knees are spread to the point that it is uncomfortable but not painful, my body is forced to lean forward with my back straight and tits jutted out. my head is just past my knees. You take my hair, which the other slaves braided earlier, and secure it to the post so that my head stays up, and out of the way of my tits.
You motion for the slave under the table to join the others, then tell them to set the table. You pull out one final piece of rope as they set the places. You turn me away from you, then you loop the rope around my elbows, and pull them closer together in order to force my tits to push out more.
Once you tie the rope off to rings in the post you step out of the way of the slaves who are putting the cold parts of the meal on the turntable around me.
The table is soon set. You reward the other slaves with five swats to the pussy each, so as not to leave marks on their asses. They hold themselves open for you and count gladly. One of them asks for permission to cum on the fourth one, but you deny her. Allowing them to cum wasn't part of the deal you made with their masters.
After administering the rewards You fasten their wrists to their ankles and leave them on the couch, to await the pleasure of their Masters. You then busy yourself playing games while waiting for your guests to arise, leaving me secured on the table.
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