From Pampered to Prized 01

It hurts. The pressure is nearly unbearable. I've been left engorged before but never anything like this. And yet I'm not bound as I normally am, just soft cuffs keeping my hands behind my back to prevent me from obtaining relief on my own. Even without being touched, milk is steadily trickling from my nipples. Every movement of my heavy breasts making more flow but it is only added stimulation, not relief.

I don't dare to get creative, I'm fully aware he has cameras in here. Everywhere really. He loves to watch me. He watched me for years before we were together. Not that I blame him. I've never won a prize for beauty, my features are too unconventional for that, but something about the way I carry myself - as though the world belongs to me - seems to draw people to me. Usually the type that are keen to show me my place.

I'm 5'5" right at the cusp of being petite. My hair used to be changed with every moody whim but is now its natural light brown, falling just below my shoulder blades when he lets it down. My skin is soft and pale, very pale. He despises seeing me in the sun and ardently protects me from it. I almost believe that my soft white skin is his favorite feature, even though my breasts are his favorite toy. They have always been bigger than reasonable for my frame and I was never shy about using them to tease. My eyes are a deep, soft brown and very expressive. They are equally adept at inspiring desire as they are likely to betray fear or pain.

Once he entered my life and began slowly walking me down this path of becoming his little milk slut, my breasts grew steadily and significantly. Initially because of the hormone shots and then as my milk came in the changes became more pronounced. I have no idea what my bra size might be, they are strictly forbidden, not that any are likely to fit at this point.

As demanding as he is, he is rarely cruel and does not often indulge in anything that could be considered torture. Respect given is respect granted and he cares for me well. He has often left me engorged for his amusement but never like this. Never to this level of pain. I'm covered in milk, slick with it and there is nothing I can do but try to find the least uncomfortable position and attempt to lose myself in the pain.

He appears the moment he sees me resign myself to the situation. As I mentioned, he watches me carefully.

"I see my little milk slut has finally accepted her predicament" he says with a bemused smile. I want to glare at him but common sense, training and desperation make me hang my head. He walks over and gently pats the top of my head "There's my good girl. Today is no day to be willful."

He lifts my chin so that my eyes meet his and lightly kisses my forehead. I am reassured until he reaches down and ruthlessly squeezes my sore over-engorged breasts. The pain is unbearable and I scream.

"You have had it too easy for too long my little slut." he growls "It's time you begin training for your proper purpose"

Now terrified, he pulls me to my feet and while firmly gripping my upper arm, walks me out to the barn. Despite his new and rough demeanor, when I see the barn, I am hopeful. This is where I am always milked and by this point it is the only thing I can focus on. Release, relief, anything to make the pain stop.

The barn is always clean and has a sterile feeling to it. What milk he doesn't enjoy for himself is sold off to those interested so careful standards are important. There has always been a fair variety of equipment here; different stalls and stands, machines and pumps and restraint systems. All these are familiar to me except one.

In the center of the barn now sits an intimidating mix of metal and black leather. He walks me up to it, grabs the back of my neck and forces me down. My knees are on a padded platform, much higher than if I were just on my hands & knees. He pulls my legs wide apart and secures them to the frame. The stand forces me to fold my waist over a bar causing my breasts to hang down painfully. The angle of the stand is steep and my head is much lower than my ass, pushed down onto a chin rest. He leaves my wrists cuffed behind my back. The stand offers little upper body support, just a padded bar across my collar bones. I'm surprised by the intentional discomfort, and the fact that my pussy is up higher than anything before. Too high for him to fuck me. All I can really focus on is the milking machine I can see beside me. It is all I want. I feel reassured that relief will come soon.

The first strike nearly makes me jump out of my skin. I feel goosebumps rise across my ass where he slapped me. He has spanked me before but never starts so hard. I wonder what have I done for him to be so rough right at the start? He keeps spanking me until my ass is welted and I'm crying. Every strike making my breasts shake and swing, more and more pain. More milk flowing from me unwillingly.

"I told you that you have been pampered and spoiled far too long. Longer than I should have ever allowed but your sweet pouts, your eagerness to please and your beautiful, tight little pussy made me delay the rest of your training. Made me wait to turn you into what you were brought here to be. You're a remarkable little whore for milking but your purpose, your destiny, is to be a mindless, milky little cum slut. Just a fuck hole to be used and stuffed, your tits alternately engorged and drained until they grow beyond your wildest concept and begin to produce gallons of milk every day. Every moment not hooked to the pump being agony for you. And more. so much more. Starting right now."

I'm so startled and confused that I can barely register what he is saying. When I met him, when he explained what life would look like, he told me I'd be loved and treasured but also trained and used. It's been well over a year and I've produced well, I've been well behaved and compliant. I assumed my training was over. What could he mean by saying my purpose is to be mindless, to be a fuck hole? My thoughts don't get too far. I hear the milking machine turn on. My heart leaps! If the pain would just stop, I could think. He grabs my breasts again, viciously squeezing, pulling hard on my nipples as I feel milk spray out of them. I feel like I'm going to pass out when he finally hooks the machine to my nipples. My whole body relaxes now, knowing I will finally be drained. I let out a sigh of relief as the rythmic suction begins. Even though I feel so exposed with my knees spread wide apart, my pussy and ass on display, all I can care about is the pull and suction of the machine milking me.

And then it stops.

I buck wildly in my restraints and he laughs aloud. "You will not be milked today until you meet your training goals. Each goal you meet, you will be rewarded by the pump getting turned back on but be aware, the longer you take to meet my expectations the more likely it is that your production will continue to outpace the pump and you could end the session right back where you started."

I don't understand what he is saying. What goals? What expectations does he have? As if he read my mind, he places a huge dildo inches from my face. It isn't terribly long but it is thicker than anything I have ever seen. I am taken aback, surely that could never fit inside me! He reaches down and firmly squeezes my breast again, making my predicament all too clear.

"We are going to stretch out that tight little cunt of yours today. Stretch it until that dildo can be stuffed into you and locked in place. Then I will drain you... but time is ticking"