Forced Lactation Ch. 01byabandon_thought©
He sat in his opulent home stroking his brow thoughtfully. His stubbled chin betrayed the amount of time he had spent here, planning, thinking and preparing for his next move.
Finally, he stood. His naked form impressive in the half light of the pre-dawn hours, muscular thighs and toned stomach accentuated by the flickering candlelight. He paced up and down the room, his toes curling into the thick rug as he turned and walked in another direction. One hand tracing circles upon his lightly haired chest, the other still rubbing his temple.
He had been consumed by the desire to own a slave who he could turn into a human cow. He wanted to squeeze her and use her breasts as not only receptacles for whatever torture he could devise but also as udders. He wanted her degraded, cowbell round her neck as she knelt, feeling him manipulate her milk filled teats and forcing the white liquid out of them.
He had kept many women here over the years, some willingly and some not so but never had he been so fixated on one overriding need. He usually enjoyed all the horrors he could inflict upon them and he was sure he still would but this was the ultimate fantasy and though he knew he had the money to make it happen, he was still unsure whether it was worth the investment and how to go about acquiring such a girl.
Still pacing up and down he made the decision. He would not trust his usual sources, he would find the perfect milk-maid himself.
Reaching over to the beige sofa, he whipped up his black silk shirt and began to put it on. He felt the smooth, cool material flow over his arms, nibbles and abs and smiled grimly. It was as though this shirt was trying to douse the fire that was within him but he knew that within moments, it would be as hot as he was; an accomplice in what he was to do today.
He hastily located his jeans and began sliding them up his thighs. It was only then that he was made aware of the hard rod jutting out in front of him and upon seeing it; he knew he would need to do something about it. He needed a cool head to see this plan through.
Stepping out of his jeans, he flopped back into the deep seated sofa, watching his cock twitch as he changed position. He was sometimes a little aroused by his manhood but not for its own sake, more as a monument of man overpowering the weak woman. He knew he was very well endowed and that it hurt the little bitches he brought to his home as he entered them and he was glad.
Taking his cock firmly in his right hand, he groaned slightly as he moved the foreskin up and over the bulging helmet. It felt as though he had been hard for days – and perhaps he had – thinking and dreaming of his human cow. His mind turned to the plans for instruments of torture to use on their milk producing mountains and his stroke quickened. His hand became slick with pre-cum as he worked his rock hard cock with the deftness of practice. The veins on his shaft stood out, making his meat look all the more impressive. The image of a bound slave-cow dripping from the nipples as he wanked in her face sent him over the edge. His groans filled the large room as he moved his hand up and down, firmly pumping all of his precious seed out and over his shirt and fingers.
He sat panting for a while, bathing in the glow of orgasm. His hand still on his cock, he looked at the sticky strands in wonder... Never before had any fantasy constantly caused him to shoot so much semen and he liked it. It made his plans all the more worthwhile.
He removed his shirt and walked swiftly through the house to a downstairs bathroom to take a shower. It was huge – as were most of the rooms in his home – and had a custom made bath that accommodated his 6 foot 4 frame easily, allowing him to lie down fully and immerse himself in the soothing water.
Turning to his right, there was a luxurious shower fitted into the marble wall and he stepped into it, relishing the splash of cool water on his hot body, rinsing the remnants of cum from his fingers and cleaning himself thoroughly.
Eventually, he stepped out and dried himself before striding naked through the house in pursuit of suitable clothing. He settled on another silken top, but this time in a pale blue which brought out the blue in his eyes and coupled it with dark trousers that accentuated the curve of his muscular arse.
Looking at his reflection in the mirror; he smiled. What milk titted wench could resist him now?
He grabbed his keys on the way out of the house and locked the door, his feet crunching on gravel as he made his way to his sports car. Getting in, he started the engine, put on his sunglasses and glanced at his face in the rear view mirror, smiling again as he saw his stubbled and strong jaw, straight white teeth and deceptively kindly face.
He pulled off and was soon speeding down country lanes to the nearest city...
By the time he arrived and parked, it was almost 11am. The perfect time to begin his search! He went into various hotels that he knew held the women he craved – those on minimum wage, forced to wait on the rich and snobby. As he went in the bars, he scanned the staff for his ideal milking slave. Weighing up the size of their breasts against the rest of their body, judging whether they would look good streaked in various bodily fluids, dishevelled and frightened. Whether they would be a challenge or easily broken.
After about five trips, he finally saw someone he kind of liked. She had dark hair that would fall just below her shoulders – ideal for hair bondage or for yanking her into place – which was currently tied back in the mandatory bun of a female employee. Her breasts must have been a C-cup which was perfect for forced lactation, they would be firm now and yet pliable, giving him the pleasure of that essential movement as a whip struck them. Her waist was fairly small and her hips ample, leading him to another thought – perhaps she could eventually be bred too...
He could not tell the shape of her arse or legs in the long and unflattering skirt she wore but overall, her appearance was pleasing to him. He caught her eye and lowered his glasses, removing them as she approached and flashing her one of his most charming smiles. She spoke, instantly shattering the illusion, her voice was high and whiny, and not one he wanted to hear pleading with him.
He asked for the bill, paid and moved on.
He glanced at his watch, it was now three pm and he wanted to have a girl in mind before the end of the day so that he could begin to set his plans in motion. He loitered outside the hotel, for a moment unsure of where to go next and then it struck him – he would go to the next gay bar. He liked breaking in a girl who was unused to cock and loved how it humiliated them to serve him.
He headed off and came to one of his old haunts. As he entered the dim room, he noticed that the decor had changed since his last visit a little over 8 years ago when he had procured his first lesbian at the tender age of 26. She had been a feisty one and he had greatly enjoyed using her for the time they were together. In the end, she had begged not to be released but he had had enough, it was time for a new slave and new depravities.
He looked around and sure enough, there were the usual spattering of straight friends with their lesbian or gay counterparts. He smiled round the room and went to the bar, ordering himself some water, careful to flash his cash and attract the attention he wanted.
Within moments he had been invited to join a mixed group of friends who were in their early twenties. All of them attractive, all of them wanting to be in the sphere of a man so rich. He eagerly joined in conversations, making them all laugh heartily and all the while noting any new arrivals and trying to discern the orientation of each person within the group. After a while, he glanced at his watch and saw that two more hours had passed. As he was about to take his leave, the perfect milking device walked through the door.
She smiled in his direction and he realised that she would be sitting with the group he was in. He glowed inwardly – at last, his plan was coming together...
He watched the way she walked, her full breasts bouncing gently as she moved, her full hips swaying as she walked, thighs perfect and, as she went to the bar, arse perfect. He mentally checked off all of the things he wanted in a slave and found she was not wanting. Just one test left.
Finally, drink in hand, she came over.
"Who is this?" she said interestedly.
"Hi." He said rising and extending a hand "I'm Arith" smiling warmly all the while.
She grasped his hand lightly, firmly and yet with exquisite femininity and smiled back.
He gestured she sit in his place and he went to fetch a chair, heart pounding in his chest – she was perfect!
He sat, immediately engaging them all in conversation as before, making them all laugh, watching as they nudged each other and nodded approvingly, ensuring his place in the group and most importantly, strengthening Cathy's trust.
The talking, drinking and laughter went on well into the night and thinking ahead, he offered to take those that remained back to his house for an extended party. Having been given ample opportunity to talk amongst themselves about him, they knew he was well off and all agreed.
Four of them followed him, giggling, to his sports car and clambered in. He drove them out to his house and assured them they could all stay till morning if they so desired. Opening the door, he showed them into the main reception room where they all exclaimed at the sheer size and grandeur of the place. He filled glasses of alcohol and let it take effect on each of them, only pretending to drink himself.
He offered a tour of his home and only Cathy agreed, the others were ensconced on the sofa and showed no signs of wishing to move.
Excusing himself, he showed her round the house, leading her this way and that down hallways and into rooms that connected to others and then led out to a different portion of the house. She was stumbling after him and only half listening to his ongoing commentary about the use for each different room.
Finally, they reached his planned destination. He opened the door and gestured she go inside. Once in, he locked the door behind her with a grin of triumph – so easy.
He headed back downstairs and announced that during the tour Cathy had collapsed on his only spare bed and therefore, reluctantly, he would have to take the rest of them back to the city or to their homes if they preferred. With one or two drunken grumblings, they assembled their things and followed him to the car and one by one, he dropped them off before heading back.
He locked the door from the inside, placing his keys in a safe hidden just inside the door and walked slowly, with great anticipation to his new slaves room. He entered a code into the terminal by the side of the door and with a click, it unlocked. As he opened it, sound returned and he could hear Cathy crying and shouting to be let out – sound proofing was worth every penny.
Opening it fully, he loomed in the doorway, summoning every inch of his height and setting his face into that of a stern Master. She flung herself towards him with the intention of hurrying past but her drunkenness and his stature sent her reeling back into the room.
Slowly he advanced and slowly, she backed away. Eventually, she had nowhere else to go and she stood, palms against the wall, cowering in fear.
"I must teach you a very important lesson."
With that he slapped her hard across the cheek, sending her to the floor where she looked up at him in shock and surprise, her hand gripping her reddening cheek.
"You are now my property. There is no escape. You will serve me or I will withhold food and water. If you continue to be insolent, I will allow you no freedom of movement and still take what I desire from you. You have only two choices, either you are a well fed and obedient slave or you are starved of everything except the minimum your body requires to exist in the form of vitamin supplements. It is your last choice – make sure it's the right one."
Arith turned away and left her to ponder her next move.