ALL NOVEL Chapter 19: Ninth Memory – Stored Milk
Thick droplets of sweat rolled down her cleavage, tickling the goosebumps on her skin, and soiling the stringed undergarments Skye had been forced to wear. Each breath lifted her chest in the air, pressing her nipples against the tight lingerie, and making her glands cajole like compacted plump marbles in her breasts. Her fingertips twitched with each exasperation as she stood by her master. If anything, he was pleased by her discomfort.
It was pure agony. The master had forbidden her from milking her teats for two solid days. During that time Skye had been forced to wear a rubber nub bikini that was especially solid around her nipples. Where the rubber rested over her dark red aureoles a small grain sized bead embedded itself into her leaky milk ducts. They acted as stoppers to keep anything from spilling out. For some reason they didn’t irritate her like she thought they should, instead they only inflamed her sensitive canals, making her buds perk up all day long.
During those two days her breasts grew more sore by the hour. The brassier, if one could call it that, strained as her breasts grew more plump, and her nipples seemed to protrude against the thicker fabric. Sleep became impossible, and walking only juggled the milk stored in her breasts. Each step caused them to bounce, causing even more pain. It made everything awkward, and Skye found herself whimpering in the privacy of her own room for hours on end.
When finally the master summoned her, she was relieved to know her pent up endowments were finally about to be relieved, she was also curiously anxious about why the master had done this to her in the first place? The answer came in the form of a gambling den on a void station she didn’t even know they had docked at.
The corridors of the station were much like that of her previous home, old and covered in oil grease. Dim lights left many passageway spoiled in darkness, and more than once she felt they were being followed. They eventually reached a long line of men who were about to enter the secretive establishment. Skye was fascinated to see each of them had a slave girl alongside them.
It took several minutes before the master was finally next in line at the door, and Skye was shocked to see why it had taken so long. Before entering the establishment, a woman on her knees with porcelain white skin, and adorned with vibrant blonde hair, was ready to receive his member. She looked very tired, her eyes drained of all focus, and her shoulders drooping low. The master unzipped his trousers, and she was quick to wrap her thin fingers around his shaft, and pleasure his majesty.
It didn’t take long, mere minutes passed before she withdrew her tongue so that his essence could spill in a large clear glassed chalice. The cup was almost completely full, filled to the brim with murky white glue. She scooped up the left over jizz on her chin for the chalice after the master was finished blowing his load.
When finished, he withdrew his manhood, and continued through the door, the next man waiting in line behind them. Skye stole one last fleeting glance at the tired slave, partially hungry for such a large supply of seminal fluids, and also envious of the harem outfit she wore.
Once inside, Skye was greeted by the smell of tobacco, and rich perfume. The lighting inside was better equipped than in the hallways, with several glowing amber lights placed along the walls. Most of the slaves were ordered to disrobe before venturing any further, and a few were left behind chained to the wall until their master returned.
A dozen people sat at a wide oval table in the center of the room, passing cards and gold plated chips to one another. The master took one of the empty seats, and tugged at the leather leash attached to the collar around Skye’s throat, ushering her to stand alongside him. Then, and only then, did he help her remove the lingerie cupping her breasts. A slick wet pop could be felt as the sticky rubber was pulled free from her bare teats. It was such a relief, having the irritating material removed from her overly sensitive skin, and as soon as the garment came free, the pressure budding beneath her nipples was finally freed.
As her master undid the clasps of her brassier, her cream already caressing the soft curvature of her breasts, Skye took a moment to study the players at the table, and their guests. Almost all of them brought a slave of their own. Most wore latex suits, or skimpy lingerie. Those that still wore anything at all, that is. All but two of them had been sitting by their masters side, waiting silently for further instruction. Many were even more uncomfortable than Skye, with joy toys lodged in their nether lips, and their hands cuffed behind their backs.
One of the slaves sat at her masters lap, letting him fondle her soft chest, and share a kiss in between bets. She had bright red hair, and multiple tattoos decorating her neck and cheeks. The woman’s eyes were augmented replacements, and designed to capture every detail of her surroundings. Unlike the other slaves, Skye got the impression that this one was of some significance.
The last woman Skye noticed was barely older than herself, with dusky colored skin, and bound in a seat at the front of the table. Her dark brown hair covered her giving breasts, although her dark nipples poked through the strands of hair. A series of plastic tubs were ready to feed a phallic shaped object secured between her legs. Her body was near comatose from ruthless pleasure, her seat was coated in lust, and the phallus lodged in her fertile crevice vibrated constantly.
Mesmerized by the site, Skye barely noticed the entry girl finally entering the room, the giant cup of semen in hand. She bent over to fill a large surplus of its contents into another container, one that was ready to feed all the plastic tubs. Skye realized at the moment of the last bet, the losing players would have their seed sent hurtling toward the broken slaves ovulating womb without remorse.
Skye bit her lip, and gulped a mouthful of saliva at the thought. She turned away, trying to control her breathing as the master noticed the way she looked around the table. Her cheeks were blushing violently.
Skye couldn’t help but glare at all the latex body suits, and was once again reminded of how sad she felt for not being able to wear such outfits. She would look killer in a bright pink suite, and the jumpsuit one of the slaves was wearing would make her butt look magnificent. Looking down at her bare skin, Skye wished her body wasn’t altered so drastically.
The atmosphere was humid and steamy, allowing whips of sweat fueled air to brush her loins. The cream leaking down her chest only increased, two days of milk finally spilling forth, until a spray of motherly fluids rained onto the table itself. Shamefully, she was sprinkling over several guests without control.
The master laughed at that, and then instructed her to aim her squirting teats into a large silver chalice waiting to be filled. Soon she became the primary source of refreshment for all the guests around the table. The master didn’t even have to help squeeze her breasts, in fact just touching them caused further pain. Skye gasped like a sow in heat as she tried her best to control the stream of fluids into several cups at once, and it wasn’t long before one of the other guests instructed her to aim directly for his mouth.
It felt so good, finally relieving her bloated mammaries after so long. She stood on quaking knees, and it took all her will to remain standing. Dark blue veins decorated the mushy soft flesh of her cleavage, and her nipples were inflamed with a stark purple color as her milk ducts widened. Skye feared they would never go back to normal again.
The game would last for several more hours, and even towards the end her endowments continued to sate the thirst of all the guests. The slaves got to enjoy her bounty only after their masters had their fill, and towards the end, just as the bound slave at the head of the table was about to be impregnated, Skye was allowed to help nurse her dehydrated body until her eyes began to flutter to awareness.
From across the room, one of the guests, a man in a leather bomber jacket, watched Skye in fascination. He looked over to her Master, and the pile of gold and silver chips at the center of the table. The fascinated guest was on the verge of winning the game, and even though Skye’s master didn’t have enough capital to go on much longer, the stranger found a way to encourage him to go another round.