Story: The Milk Girls, Part 2

Previous chapters:
One

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It was strange to have Sweetmelons there in the office with her tits out all day long, and stranger still to have the other office women sucking on her breasts around the clock.

Strangest of all was how Fiona found herself looking forward to her 15-minute shift sucking on the poor girl’s breasts, and how her cunt became wet when she suckled at Sweetmelons’ udders.

It clearly hurt Sweetmelons tremendously to receive such constant stimulation of her nipples.  Early in the morning she would gasp and moan as she was sucked on, but as the day continued she began to squeal in pain with every suck, and beg the women not to suck her tits.

One woman on the floor – busty blonde Georgia – refused to suck on Sweetmelons.  She said she wasn’t a lesbian, and that Sweetmelons wasn’t consenting.  

She was fired the very same day, and the next day a pretty young full-breasted brunette replaced her, who was more than willing to suck Sweetmelons’ tits to keep her job.

Mr Star wasn’t oblivious to Sweetmelons’ discomfort.  After a while, when it became clear that her begging for mercy was making the other women uncomfortable, he came out and fastened a collar around her throat.

“A new invention of one of our other subsidiaries,” he told the girls.  “It’s like a de-barking collar, but – well, you’ll see.”

It turned out that the collar detected when Sweetmelons was trying to speak – and immediately played loud cow mooing sounds that drowned her out, so that it was impossible to make out her words.  

And when she kept making noise, and tried to physically pull women away from her tits, Mr Star put a ball gag in her mouth, and cuffed her hands behind her back, and that was how Sweetemlons spent the rest of her time in the office.

Mr Star reminded them all that Sweetmelons was choosing to work there, and she could always leave and seek a job elsewhere if she truly didn’t like her treatment.  She would be welcome, for example, to work full-time in the brothel that she was currently temping at after work.  Mr Star understood there were customers who would pay a lot of money to hurt and abuse lactating breasts.

And so Sweetmelos’ breastfeeding went on, and the other girls kept abusing her, exactly as they were told.

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About a week after Sweetmelons joined the office, Mr Star called Fiona up to his office.

Fiona was incredibly nervous.  She felt sure she was going to be fired, although she wasn’t sure for what.  Possibly for not dressing sexily enough.  Was it too late to change Mr Star’s mind?  She went to the bathroom before heading upstairs, and adjusted her blouse as she looked at herself in the mirror, unbuttoning a few more buttons to expose more of her tits.  She was struck by how slutty she looked – not dressed appropriately for work at all – but would it be enough for Mr Star?

After a moment’s further thought, she blushed, and took off her bra entirely.  Now her hard nipples were extremely visible through the thin fabric of her shirt.  In fact, if you looked closely, you could see the dark circles of her areolae through the material.

She exited the bathroom, stuffed her bra in her desk drawer, and hurried upstairs, her large tits bouncing.

Mr Star was peering at some documents when Fiona entered his office, but he looked up as she approached.  He didn’t bother to look at her face – his gaze settled on her breasts.  

Fiona blushed, and felt the immediate urge to cover her bosom with her hands.  She resisted it.  Her tits were the only thing that had a chance of keeping her in her job.

“Ah,” said Mr Star.  “You’re the girl I sent for, aren’t you?  Remind me, what was your name again?”

Fiona opened her mouth to say “Fiona” – and then paused.  Was Mr Star testing her?  Did he want her to degrade herself?  If she said “Fiona” would he say that he didn’t employ anyone called Fiona, and fire her?  

But to call herself the other thing – the name in her email address – if that wasn’t even what he was asking for… that would be incredibly demeaning… and would contribute to her own degradation and objectification…

But at the end of the day she wanted to keep her job.

“My email address is…Giant Fuckbags, sir,” she mumbled.

He laughed.  “Oh, that’s right,” he said.  “Have a seat, Fuckbags.”

Fiona looked around.  There was no other seat in the room.  If she sat on the ground, he wouldn’t be able to see her.

Faced with no other options, she perched awkwardly on the edge of his desk, feeling like a decoration.

“Tell me – are you enjoying sucking on Sweetmelons’ tits, Fuckbags?” asked Mr Star.

She blushed.  What could she say?

“I’m not a lesbian, sir,” she said, her eyes downcast.

Mr Star frowned.  “That’s not what I asked.  What I asked is whether you enjoy placing your lips on Sweetmelon’s beautiful lactating udders and sucking the milk from them.”  He looked at her, and added, “Don’t lie to me, Fuckbags.”

She wanted to say that she didn’t like it.  It was the truth.  She didn’t.  She was abusing another woman, causing her pain, publicly degrading her.  It was repellant.  

But… could Mr Star possibly know that it made her aroused?  Did he have some camera, where he could watch?  Had he seen the expressions on her face as she sucked on Sweetmelons’ boobs?  Had he caught a glimpse of a wet spot on her panties?  Worse yet, had she left a wet spot on her chair?  

If he knew, and she said she didn’t enjoy it…

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, her face red.  “I enjoy sucking on Sweetmelons’ tits.”

“I thought so,” said Mr Star.  “After all, all women are naturally bisexual sluts.  And in any case, who wouldn’t want to drink from the udders of a cow like Sweetmelons?”

“But sir,” ventured Fiona, “*she* doesn’t like it.  It hurts her.”

Mr Star looked at her, and steepled his fingers thoughtfully.

“Tell me,” he said.  “Do you think it is part of the natural order for women to become pregnant?”

Fiona didn’t quite know how to answer.  “Well, biologically…” she began.

“Don’t use long words with me, Fuckbags,” said Mr Star.  “You’re a secretary and they’re bad for your brain.  Let me put this another way – it is uncommon or unnatural for a woman to be pregnant?”

“No,” said Fiona.  Clearly it wasn’t.

“So you accept it’s normal and natural for women to be pregnant?” said Mr Star.

That didn’t sound right, but Fiona saw how it was the inverse of what she had just agreed to.

“Yes,” she allowed.

“And it is normal for women to lactate when they are pregnant?” asked Mr Star.

“Yes,” said Fiona.

“So it’s the natural state of women to be lactating?” asked Mr Star.

“Well, not all the time…” objected Fiona – and then she winced as she realised she was correcting a man who could fire her.

“Try again, Fuckbags,” said Mr Star.  “Women are biologically designed to be pregnant, and to make milk, am I correct?”

Fiona didn’t dare disagree again.  “Yes, sir,” she said.

“Say what you just agreed with,” he said.

Fiona scrambled to remember what he had just said.

“Women are biologically…” she began.

“Women like you,” corrected Mr Star.

She blushed.

“Women like me are biologically designed to be pregnant and make milk,” she said.

“Good,” said Mr Star.  “Now tell me, Fuckbags – why do you think women’s udders are so sensitive?  Why should they feel pain so easily?”

Fiona didn’t know.  She couldn’t think of any good evolutionary reason why a woman’s breasts should be in pain – particularly from breastfeeding.

Mr Star saw her bafflement.

“It’s because your tits are supposed to be in pain,” said Mr Star.  “It’s natural.  It’s good for you.  Because women respond to pain in their tits with obedience and submission, and that makes them more likely to be bred again, and pass on their genes.”

He leaned closer to her.  

“What Sweetmelons is experiencing right now is just the feeling of transition, from the woman that she thought she was – an up and coming lawyer with a bright career – into the woman that she actually is – a big-uddered breeding cow.  That’s the woman that she always was, Fuckbags, and the pain is just a result of her not having understood that.  If she’d been milking her tits every day since she turned 18 she would be used to this feeling, and she would be orgasming from it instead of making that pathetic mooing noise.  It’s her own fault, Fuckbags.”

“Yes, sir,” said Fiona, horrified but trying not to show it.

“Say it, Fuckbags,” said Mr Star.

“It’s her own fault,” said Fiona, looking down at the desk, her face bright red.

“Good girl,” said Mr Star.  “Now, I think you have potential, Fuckbags.  I think you might deserve some additional responsibility.”

Fiona didn’t understand what he was saying.  She had thought she was getting fired.  But… was he offering her a promotion?

“I’d like that, sir,” she said, quickly.

“Very good, Fuckbags,” he said.  “I have a very important position for you, and it comes with a little extra salary.  But I need you to pass a little test to see if you’re suitable.”

“Yes, sir?” asked Fiona.

“I need you to write me a report,” said Mr Star.  “I want you to tell me which four girls on your floor are best suited to be a lactating cow like Sweetmelons.  You can use any criteria you like, as long as you explain and justify your choices.  You may look at their personnel files to see their medical histories and the photos of their exposed breasts if you find that helpful.”

Fiona’s mouth was hanging open.

“I don’t….” she began.

“No, save it for the report,” said Mr Star.  “I expect it at close of business tomorrow.  I look forward to reading it.”

He smiled.

“I know you’ll do a good job, Fuckbags,” he said.

And with that, it was clear that Fiona had been dismissed.

It wasn’t until she got back to the elevator that she realised that one of her breasts had fallen out of her blouse when she had sat on Mr Star’s desk, and that it had been hanging out in full view during the whole conversation.

When she saw it, in the glass panel at the rear of the elevator, she felt a part of her mind switch off.  It was the part that had a conscience, that had been screaming at her that she had to leave this job, that she had to report Mr Starr for gross sexual harassment.

That part of her brain was inconvenient, because she *wasn’t* going to leave this job.  The thought of wrecking her career and being humiliated in front of every future employer was too horrible.  And so she just needed to… dissociate a little.  

She tucked her breast back into her blouse.  

Then, when she got to her floor, she went straight to the toilets, entered a stall, and took off every scrap of clothing she was wearing.  She sat on the toilet with her legs spread, and with one hand she squeezed her tits so hard that they hurt – unconsciously making a milking motion as she pulled on her nipple again and again – and with the other she rubbed her clit furiously.

She thought about sucking on Sweetmelons’ nipples.

She thought about Mr Star staring at her exposed breast and calling her “Fuckbags”.

She thought about how he had offered her a promotion.

She thought about choosing four of her co-workers to recommend for the same treatment as Sweetmelons.  She thought about what criteria she might use to pick them.

In the end she had to take her hand away from her breast and stuff it into her mouth to muffle her own scream as she orgasmed, harder than she had ever orgasmed in her life.

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You can find more hot tales of breastfeeding and lactation in my e-book The Milk Industry, available for only $4.99 USD from AllTheseRoadworks.com!  Your purchase shows your appreciation and supports the creation of hot, new erotica! (Click here to view in store.)

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