The Endgame

My breasts also felt heavier. I had a closer look and noticed that my nipples were puffier than they should have been with just the piercings. Oh, of course. He had induced lactation. Well, I had ticked that box on the form.

I had woken up in worse.

I was kneeling, of course, in the approved manner, back very straight and head very upright, and I appeared to be wearing a tall but not posture collar.

There was general applause as people noticed I had come out of conditioning.

I gave them a smile and a wave - it was considered the done thing to do.

"And now!" the Master of Ceremonies read out, "Points!"

There was another cheer at that. This should be interesting.

"According to the hunting reports lodged with the Department at the time, it took five weeks of monitoring!"

There was a pause at that. Anything over about three weeks was considered to represent quite strong defences. His ability to break through them was taken to be the yardstick.

"Conditioning!"

Now that was the interesting one. I honestly had no idea how long it had taken - the first thing you lose is track of time.

"Four hours!"

There was applause at that, even I was impressed.

The last time it had taken three hours to break me, the time before that had taken two and a half because someone had been lucky and caught me while I was having a horny week, and the time before that, three again.

Four meant that either he really was serious about caring about it as an art form, or I was holding out a lot longer than normal. Maybe that training was beginning to pay off.

"Slave, do you have complaints to register?"

There were two responses to that. I had no reason for the first.

I turned, on my knees, to face Him. I leaned forwards, deftly unzipped His pants and pulled out His cock already half erect.

I rolled it in my palms, pulled out His balls and cupped them, tickling Him erect.

I leaned further forwards, my milk-full breasts weighty on my chest above the hard edge of the corset, and slid my mouth slowly over Him.

I gave of my best, sucking and licking and caressing as I rolled His balls in my palm and felt them tighten.

I swallowed Him to the back of my throat and then, as I felt His spasms begin, slid back and held Him pointing at my open mouth, so when He came His spurts of cum were visible to our audience as they shot between my lips and, at the end, landed on my chin.

I stood up as the audience applauded and He kissed my cum-stained mouth then led me to our altar, the hard bed where I lay down for the last time as a slave - this time.

He shackled me to the corners, a cross shape this time, then knelt between my legs.

As my Master still, He bent down as though he were my slave, and slowly licked the length of my lips.

His thumbs parted me to give Him access, and He slid his tongue up to where, yes, I had another piercing.

I shuddered powerfully, arching up towards Him.

My breasts felt full, heavy and in need of release.

"Please join us," I gasped as my body responded quickly and powerfully to what it now knew as a familiar touch.

They responded instantly to the formal invitation, one slave female and one male, both slaves still, collars tightly locked.

They both had long hair that fell over my breasts, tickling me before their lips fastened on my puffy nipples, pressing the chain into my skin.

I moaned raggedly as their sucking added to my Master's, the sensation of lactating not unfamiliar but almost forgotten.

I felt the milk ooze out of me around the metal rings and I felt them drink, swallowing, greedily sucking as I fed them both.

My orgasm rushed upon me as He slid two fingers inside and the two slaves did not cease their sucking.

The slaves were pulled off me, my nipples popping wetly from their mouths, and milk oozed down my breasts as I was unshackled.

"You may stand up!" the Master of Ceremonies said.

I did so, on shaky legs. He unlocked the collar.

I was offered a coat. I pondered, removed the rings from my nipples and clitoris to general sounds of disappointment, and accepted the coat. I closed it enough to cover my nipples, but left my cleavage exposed.

As was traditional, he said "No hard feelings?" and extended his hand to be shaken.

"No hard feelings," I said sweetly as I shook. "Tell me, how many times have I sucked your cock since you caught me?"

He pondered, for show. "At least," he said, "twice a day, morning and evening. Sometimes more."

"And guests?"

"Well, I generally kept you for myself, I did share you with an old school friend of mine and there were a couple of women who were just dying to appreciate you."

"Aha?" I thought as much. I didn't normally swing to women, myself, only as a just-occasional. I was fascinated by tits but very little else about other women's bodies.

"And, ah," I said, "any strap-on action?"

"Oh no, I'm not into that," he said without batting an eyelid. "But, yes, one or two women did just beg to have you. I kept them small and squishy, though."

"Small and squishy?" I echoed him. "You say the sweetest things."