Miss Leroux Ch. 02 - Shame & Breastmilk

"Good afternoon, Miss Leroux. Please, come in."

Gorgeously mature yet with a scoundrel's glimmer in those piercing mint irises, Pres. Clemont didn't bother to look up from his writing. The man's combed salt-and-pepper hair hung loose, charmingly disheveled. He spoke his words in a deep and exacting French. As his broad, olive hand danced his pen along the busywork, the indents and veins upon shifted.

Though first nervously waiting at the doorway, with permission in stepped Professor Leroux, pushing the ornate office door shut behind her. Today was her third weekly 'meeting' with him. With not a word she crossed the room, black pumps muffled on the carpeting, then stood before his desk with hands politely held in front, touching the fuzz on the lap of her black pencil skirt.

"Good afternoon, sir." Her voice was spun like a delicate thread. She sounded silky and sweet as a satin crème brûlée.

Clemont raised his gaze, and she flushed. She squirmed and shifted. Warm, chestnut irises rested in her wide eyes. Dark chocolate hair loosely draped and coiled into a bun. Soft lips of glistening beige. And as her brow curved up just a bit in distress, pinkish hues painted those soft cheeks warm.

For beneath that soft chin, past the simple silver necklace, the valley of her cleavage curved pronounced. Upon her champagne-linen blouse, undone were those first four buttons. And beneath this blouse? A push-up brassiere ("of her choice," he had so kindly allowed). And so Miss Leroux's juicy girls felt the brisk office air upon their curves.

She noticed how his gaze had fallen there, to her impressive chest. She didn't say a word, but only looked away in reddened resignation. She allowed him to inspect her like livestock.

"Little Miss."

Her gaze flew back to him, obedient and attentive. She felt like a pathetic pet, allowing herself to be commanded... by that deep... sultry voice...

As he rose from his seat, his broad shoulders cast a large silhouette. Her head tilted up to keep with his eyes. She shifted on her feet, overtaken by the dread... the excitement, perhaps... for the humiliating ordeals that this evening held in store for her.

Clemont stepped around Leroux... She stood still...Then she gasped, for his gentle touch began to scritch her scalp ever so lightly. A gasp of delight, then melted into a sigh...

"You've been a good girl." What lovely fingers he had...

"Thank you, sir..." Miss Leroux leaned into them. 'Good girl...' echoed her fluffed mind. She did not even jump when his other hand traced her breast, though the intimacy heated her cheeks.

Scritching her scalp and tracing her open chest, he handled her how a farmer might handle his cow. With a calming and pampering touch. Then, he gave her ear a gentle kiss. Miss Leroux felt so sweet within.

"How do our meetings begin, little girl?" 

The professor blushed. Then, sang shyly, "With a drink of... breast milk, sir."

"Smart one~." Clemont patronized her, but kindly so, like a father. Then two pats on her round rump. "Ch ch." A command. "Go on then."

So as per usual, little Leroux obeyed. From a nearby cabinet decorated with ornate glasses, she fetched a cute, flowery shot glass. With an approving smile Clemont which had the lady blushing, he received the glass and set it upon the desk.

The man's soft gaze then fixed patiently upon her, thus Leroux continued her ritual-- the making of her 'drink.' One by one, her blouse's buttons slid from their slits, 'til the front fell open like curtains round her chest. The poor woman glanced up at him self-consciously.

"Your brassiere looks lovely on you, dear."

Little Leroux's tummy fluttered. She liked his approval.

"You'd like to take it off, wouldn't you." An order, phrased as a question-- and quite purposefully. Closed questions, Miss Leroux was dutied to respond to in a particular way:

Another gulp of dignity swallowed, Leroux jumped on her toes-- and so her breasts, now cradled only by her brassiere, danced along to the rhythm. Up and down and up and down... 'Yes' is what this disgracing display meant.

Watching his employee ridiculing herself with this "dance" of her woman's chest, Clemont smiled patronizingly at the cute display, then gave a nod of his head: 'Go ahead, remove your brassiere then.' 

So with her final bounce boumbling to a stop, Miss Leroux resumed undressing. She unclasped her brassiere and freed herself of it-- without removing her blouse! Then the good girl passed her brassiere to him.

Leroux fumed with embarrassment at the thought of herself right then, baring her bust to this man... The woman's heavy Double-Es poured out and took up space with a gentle jiggle, freed from constraint. Full, mature, and milky, they exuded vivacity. Only the lady's browned areolas peaked out from behind her blouse.

"Attagirl." He motioned to the shot glass on the table. "Now go ahead. Milk those teats, little heifer."

The poor professor's insides crumpled. 'Heifer.' 'Teats...' He was ridiculing her as a woman. Ridiculing her body.

And yet, little Miss Leroux obeyed all the same. She prepped the cute shot glass beneath the under-curve of her chest, then pulled aside the curtain of her blouse. Miss Leroux never tired of the shame of revealing her breast like this... Her nipple embarrassed her with its excitement, proudly puffed and erect. The woman then cradled her breast from underneath, and fed the nub into the mouth of the glass. The professor glanced at Pres. Clemont as if searching for approval in the thick shame... then began to encourage her girl to give with the gentlest of caresses.

SPLISH! The sound made the woman cringe from embarrassment... Thin streams of mother's milk began to fill the tiny shot glass. Leroux was relieved that the torturous milking lasted only a minute or two.

Miss Leroux glanced up again-- and now in the open was the sight of Clemont's hardness pushing through dark-brown fabric as he sat in his chair. He did not hide himself-- perhaps to humiliate her further. It was working. The woman could not lie to herself, she felt flustered knowing how her body and actions brought him such... satisfaction. She'd quickly shifted gaze to his eyes, but he teased with the raise of his brow.

"Have your drink, dear." 

The opaque, white cream sat rippling in her glass. With her eyes shut, Leroux slowly brought the glass to her lips, then gulped the warm milk down. It tickled her throat sweetly as it traveled into he belly, and left upon her tongue a taste of tanginess. 

With a 'clink,' the little shot glass took a spot upon the desk. Clemont only smiled, allowing a silence to fill the room... leaving Miss Leroux to ponder her actions. She had just been coerced into drinking the milk from her own breasts. She looked ashamed.

"You've made a lovely cow so far, dear." To this, Leroux was unsure whether to take this as a compliment. However, the honey in his tone did tickle her, so a compliment it felt like. 

"Let us continue. Remove your skirt, Miss."

Despite the polite request, Miss Leroux hesitated. She would be baring her bottom half. She burned warm, for she had never done this for him, as of yet.

"S-sir--" she began, in her sweet, timid voice.

But he patiently interrupted, "Hush, dear," as if he were correcting an overactive child, and so she closed her mouth like a good girl. Clemont, in standing, reminded little Leroux how much he towered over her. While he was clad in his classy, masculine suit, she stood there blouse unbuttoned and baring her chest.

"Silly girl," his deep voice reprimanded teasingly. "You are confused. Just do as your Daddy tells you, and you'll be okay."

Leroux shrunk. "...Yes, sir..." she just barely whimpered in her pretty, sing-song voice. In her thirties, yet put in her place. 

And so our professor's thumbs proceeded, hooking the hem of her tight, brown pencil-skirt. Down and down the skirt slid, down Leroux's thick, milky thighs. Her belly curved softly, whilst stretch marks and cellulite adorned her pretty body. As she stepped out of the garment, black pumps, her opened blouse, and those cute black-lace panties 'round her hips were all that clad her.

She stood there trembling in her vulnerability, until Clemont held her cheek and with his thumb, caressed that plump, beige bottom lip. 

"A beautiful thing like you was not meant to stay covered." The woman looked into her boss's eyes with a wide eyed gaze. A twinge of pride sparked within her, suddenly.

"Come now, dear. Let's watch your performance." She followed, carrying with her a bit of tenseness. He sat, then guided her onto his lap-- to which Leroux flushed pink.

Miss Leroux mustered whatever elegant dignity was left within herself as she sat. However she whined a moan "Mmm!" then turned red, for with Clemont's thigh between her own, he bounced the woman towards him to embrace her. But she felt his knee.. against her... through her undergarments. That remaining dignity had been brushed away as well; regardless, she kept still in her new position, her back to him, and his arm 'round her waist.

Thus, Clemont's attention shifted to his desktop. Buried in the files, he unearthed her 'performance'-- footage of a new duty which he had entrusted upon her during their last meeting.

...

"Little heifer," he had said the week before, following her prescribed hours of humiliation with him. "A creature like you is too dignified in your little outfit. It's precious on you, but it is like... watching a dog wear clothes, yes?" Her chest tightened up at the pathetic comparison. "Those FAT, milky things on your chest, they need to breathe, dear. You would look ridiculous, continuing to cover them up as if you were a person. And of course, I will not have you sullying the name of this school with an improper uniform." 

Miss Leroux just let him degrade her and gave a nod' with a shaky little, "Yes, sir."

"More so, a healthy, little calf should have some dairy for her bones. How else will your legs support those heavy things, hm?" the man had mused, motioning nonchalantly at her chest. "You will drink a tall bottle of milk before each of your lectures. And we shall be filming it; we must assure you do as you're told, no?"

...

Now there she sat upon the president's knee, powerless as she was about to watch the footage of herself following these new rules.

Professor Leroux entered the frame, arriving in her lecture hall. One could immediately tell her face was turned shamefully away from the students-- for her deep, pale cleavage shone and jiggled.

Before starting her class, Leroux nervously pulled a glass bottle, which Clemont had graciously provided, from her bag. A cute cow design on the front, but otherwise transparent glass-- thus it was quite apparently filled with milk. It resembled a bottle one might've had delivered by the milkman. 

To the confusion of her silent classroom, Leroux popped open the cap, brought the rim to her lips, and, with a little hesitation, started gulping down the milk in front of all her college students. In the footage, some unrest arose in the crowd-- subtle movements here and there, some smiles, some giggles. Gulp by gulp by gulp, the milk flowed into her belly until there was nothing left. She set the empty bottle on her desk, then patted her soft lips with a little white handkerchief she'd pulled from her blouse, and finally began her class as normal, though now visibly insecure about the whole thing.

"Gooood girl..." murmured Mr. Clemont, and he then kissed her ear softly. "I'm proud of you, Miss Leroux." However this little bit of praise broke the camel's back-- in his embrace, she felt safe. Without her intending it, the weight of it all, which she'd been pushing down, welled up within her. Tears filled her eyes, and she sniffled. 

"What's wrong, sweet cow?" 

The woman turned to him with teary eyes. "Mr. Clemont, sir... My students do not respect me anymore. They stare, and don't bother to come to me for questions, and I hear the laughing... No one talks to me like a professor anymore. And, some carry this... condescension... when they speak with me..." She went silent, lip trembling.

"Oh, you poor thing..." Clemont cooed warmly in his sensual, honey tone, and held the woman tighter. Her heart fluttered, and then she started to sob quietly. 

"People are cruel with animals, dear. Unless it's a cat or a dog, most are socialized to hold no place in their heart for this world's sweet and gentle living things. For a precious creature, such as yourself."

Leroux's sobs faded a bit, and she looked up at Clemont with wide and puffy eyes, smeared eyeliner. He smiled, and gave the woman's forehead a kiss. He then, turning her chin away, began tenderly unmaking the pretty bun, that held her dark chocolate hair together. She sat still.

"You are not a professor anymore, little Miss. That is a pretty lie we shall use as your leash for the time being. In truth, you're my heifer. You are a fine cut of meat with ripe teats. And a sweet companion with a tender heart." Her soft locks cascaded, loose and natural, to her shoulders. Clemont guided her chin and looked her in the eyes again. "In the future, a student may look at your udders, or a coworker slap your ass. While I know," he said with emphasis, "that you are not entirely averse to the humiliation," Miss Leroux blushed a bit red but did not look away, "I also know it can be hard. If it is ever too much, my doors are open to you, and I will care for you in the way a gentle animal should be cared for." 

Then, Clemont leaned down and gave her a kiss on her lips, before taking a breast in hand and caressing it gently. Miss Leroux melted into the kiss, and let out nothing but a pretty little moan. 

As he broke the kiss and she opened her wet eyes, even feeling his big hand holding the weight of her breast, she didn't object. She felt confused, but her worries had been washed away, and she let herself be held by him.

"Are you ready to keep being my good girl?" 

Leroux sniffled. She was yet anxious for what the future held, but Clemont's warmth reassured her. He would take care of her... The woman bounced upon his knee, and so danced her breasts up and down in acquiescence. 

Clemont smiled, and granted her forehead another kiss. "Good cow. Stand, then, and off with the rest of your clothes."

She hesitated for a moment.

"An animal looks silly with clothes. You don't want to look silly, do you, cow?" 

She considered her answer, but then gave in with a blush, and swung her breasts from side to side.

And that was that. 

A bounce of his knee nudged her off his lap. "Go on." So the woman ditzily stumbled to her feet.

She looked back to find his gaze, but he interrupted, "Stay turned away. Strip down like that."

So she did. It took a moment to find the courage within herself, but she gently let the blouse fall off her arms and drop to the floor, revealing to Clemont her nude back. Then, she hooked her fingers into her panties and bent over to slide them off her cheeks. Once the panties fell down her thighs, she delicately stepped out of them, and stood back up. 

So now, the lady's plump ass was bare too. She wore nothing but her black pumps. The brisk air tickled her shoulders and back and nipples and crotch. She gripped her wrist anxiously in front of her. She couldn't help thinking that Mr. Clemont's gaze was upon her backside, and it had her burning up inside.

"Beautiful." She squirmed with hot shame. "Fat, healthy cheeks. Calf-bearing hips. Tremendously thick thighs. Lovely markings all around. Turn, heifer." 

Leroux squirmed at his evaluation, then turned to face him.

"Lovely udders, of course. A healthy tummy. Soft shoulders and neck. What a pretty bush you have there, girl."

Leroux blushed pink. That sweet pride from knowing she was desirable to him made the nudity easier to bear, if only a smidge.

"You're a beautiful cow all around. But dear, tell me. Do you think cows should walk on their hind legs?"

Leroux's eyes widened. She could tell what he was implying.

"Well? Tell me heifer."

The woman then reluctantly began to swing her breasts. 'No, sir...'

"I don't think so either," Clemont agreed. "Down, girl."

And so the woman lowered herself, kneeling first, then onto her hands and knees which she assumed he wanted of her.

"Good girl." Clemont smiled, then back his knee and beckoned her, "Tch tch."

Leroux slushed through the humiliation and crawled towards him. She felt hyperconscious of her hanging breasts which swung beneath her with each step. Finally, she was at his feet. 

Clemont then reached to take each pump from each foot, before setting them aside on his desk and leaning back in his chair again. "There you go..." he said, with a warm smile. She was officially completely bare. 

"Little cow, what sound do little cows make?"

Leroux felt the shame bubble inside her... But he had been nothing but welcoming and proud of her submission thus far. 

She mustered up, in her sweet voice, a timid, "...Mooo..." 

"Again, dear. Louder!"

"M-mooo!" she tried, blushing hot in the face now. Miss Leroux mooing naked and on all fours before her boss. She wanted the earth to swallow her.

"Doesn't that feel better? More natural for a thing like you." He ruffled the nude woman's freed hair. "Whenever you say your 'yeses' and 'nos' with those silly teats, I want you to make your cow sounds. Understood?"

Leroux's cheeks blushed fiercely. She assumed he wanted her to put this into practice immediately. So with some mental effort, she swung her teats back and forth while looking up at him, and gave him a sweet, "Mooo..."

"That's it, good job!" Clemont cooed, and pet the woman's head. "Sit up."

Leroux raised her gaze to the man, then sat up on her knees with her hands in her lap. The curves of her hips, up to her waist, up to her chest were all in the open. Leroux's lip trembled.

"Would the heifer like to cover herself up?"

She would... The nudity still had her flushed with burning shame. So she bounced her ass on her heels, jiggling her teats up and down with another sweet "Moo..." Her eyes pleaded for clothing. 

"But you're an animal, dear. This doesn't make sense, does it?"

Leroux whimpered slightly, confused by the question. She first considered it, then followed the man's insinuation... thus, against her wishes, she danced her girls from side to side, whilst mooing a dejected, "Moo..." 'Animals do not wear clothes...'

"No... But don't worry, dear, I have a solution. I have clothing more fitting for you. That, or you may stay in the nude. Would you like the clothing?"

Despite the ominous description of said clothing, Leroux's nudity had her feeling as if she'd burst into flames. So again, quite counterintuitively, she threw her breasts up and down with pleading eyes and a cute, "Moo..."

'Clothing, please!' Even if the clothes were perverse, it must be better than this, she thought. 

She was wrong. 

Click.

"Rosy, please leave that suit I left you on my doorknob."

"Yes, sir," responded a grainy female voice from the intercom.

Clemont called someone to the office?! Leroux looked at him with alarm, then scurried behind the desk in case this secretary opened the office doors for whatever reason. Glancing over, the nude lady noticed how close the president's crotch was now. She gulped and looked away.

Click, click, click, click, click. From the halls outside the office door, echoes of this Rosy's heels grew louder. A rustling of the doorknob. Leroux tensed. Nothing... then echoing clicks from the hall again, fading now. She left. 

Leroux gasped. Upon her asscheek, Clemont's hand-- gripping, then pushing her on lightly. "Go. Fetch your clothes."

Leroux looked innocently back at his calming green eyes. "Go on."