Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three
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By the time Fiona got to the office the next morning, her guilt was all-consuming. She couldn’t believe what she had written to Mr Star. She couldn’t reconcile those words – those ideas – with the bright, ethical young woman she knew herself to be.
She went straight to Mr Star’s office, and she was so agitated that she went in not only without an appointment, but without knocking.
He was working at his computer and he didn’t look away from the screen as she entered.
“You’re not on my calendar,” he said.
“No, sir,” said Fiona.
“You’ll have to remind me who you are,” he replied. “I find it difficult to tell one big-titted female from another. You’re all so interchangeable.”
“I’m…” – she thought about saying ‘Fiona’, but she knew he would pretend not to know who that was. “My name is Giant Fuckbags, sir,” she said instead.
“Ah yes,” said Mr Star. “And what brings you to my office without an appointment, Fuckbags? I assume a mood disorder brought on by your menstrual cycle?”
“No, sir,” she said. “I wanted… I wanted to take back the report I gave you. I made a mistake. I’ll do it differently.”
“There’s no need, Fuckbags,” said Mr Star. “Your report was perfectly adequate. And besides, I’ve already taken steps to act upon it.”
“But… I said things about those women…” began Fiona in desperation.
“Very true things,” said Mr Star. “I was impressed. There’s no need to hide behind false modesty. In fact, I wanted to reward you by showing you something.”
He picked up a phone at his desk, pressed a button, and spoke into it.
“Have Sweetmelons sent in.”
There was a long silence after that, until eventually there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” said Mr Star.
And Sweetmelons stepped in.
Her large breasts were exposed. She hadn’t yet been milked by the office girls, and Fiona could see her udders were swollen, and a thin trickle of milk was leaking from each nipple and running down the underside of her breasts, across her stomach, and into her skirt.
“Good morning, Sweetmelons,” said Mr Star. “Would you strip for me, please?”
Sweetmelons looked uncomfortable – but after a moment she began to take off her clothes, and before long she was completely nude in front of Fiona and Mr Star.
“Would you show Giant Fuckbags here your recent decoration, please, Sweetmelons?” said Mr Star.
Sweetmelons looked even more uncomfortable, but she moved her legs apart, and then used her fingers to spread her pussy open.
There was a metal ring, about the size of a bottlecap, piercing her clitoris. It was big enough that her labia couldn’t fully hide it even when her pussy wasn’t spread, and Fiona realised that if Sweetmelon clenched her legs together it would cause the ring to tug slightly on her clit.
“Isn’t it the cutest?” said Mr Star. “It’s basically like the ring through a cow’s nose, only for a human cow. Allows her to be led and trained. Look, it vibrates.”
He took a control like a garage door opener out of his pocket and pressed a button. The ring began to buzz, and Sweetmelons squeaked, and blushed.
“Now, Fuckbags,” said Mr Star. “Do you think that’s a thing that an intelligent human being would do? Would a creature that was the equal of a man allow its clit to be pierced by a vibrating metal ring, and then allow her boss to hold the control to that ring?”
Fiona flushed. She wanted to argue, but knew that it would get her nowhere.
“No, sir,” she said, quietly.
“And what does that make Sweetmelons?” asked Mr Star.
“A cow, sir,” said Fiona.
“That’s right,” said Mr Star. “I want you to look at her and see that she’s nothing but a lactating cow.”
Fiona did as she was told, and stared at Sweetmelons’ naked body.
“And I know that you still have illusions that you’re not different,” said Mr Star. “So I want you to do something for me. You can consider it part of your job.”
He put something on his desk. It was a two-metre length of elastic, with a metal clip at one end, and a heavy rubber ball at the other.
“Clip this to Sweetmelons’ ring, would you, Fuckbags?” he said.
Reluctantly, Fiona took the elastic, and knelt before Sweetmelons. She blushed at having her face so close to another woman’s exposed cunt. But, obediently, she clipped the elastic to Sweetmelons’ ring.
“Good girl,” said Mr Star. “Now take that ball in your hand, open my office door, and then throw the ball as hard as you can down the corridor.”
Fiona looked at him in horror. So did Sweetmelons, who took a half-step back, and moved her hands to protect her pussy.
Mr Star shook his head. “It won’t damage her, Fuckbags,” he said. “The elastic is quite forgiving. But it will hurt her a lot. Her own fault, really, for letting me to do this to her.”
“I… I can’t,” said Fiona.
“Okay,” said Mr Star. “Then I’ll fire you, shall I?”
Fiona looked at the ball, and then back at Mr Star.
“We both know you’re going to do it,” said Mr Star. “You’re going to tell yourself that it’s because you can’t afford to lose your job, but really it’s just that it’s the natural instinct of women to torture and degrade each other for the entertainment of men. You want to do this. By threatening to fire you, I’m just giving you permission. Go on. Throw the ball.”
Sweetmelons shook her head desperately. She tried to speak – perhaps to ask Fiona not to throw the ball – but her “de-barking” collar drowned her out.
“Mooo,” said the collar. “Mooo.”
Fiona looked at the ball again. Then at Mr Star. Then at the office door.
“Mooo!” said Sweetmelons again.
Her clit ring was still buzzing.
Fiona had no choice. She opened the office door, and pitched the ball down the corridor.
Sweetmelons squealed, and doubled over, clutching her cunt.
The ball didn’t go far. It reached the end of the elastic, and then bounced back, striking Sweetmelons lightly in the shin.
“Good girl,” said Mr Star. “Now why don’t you give Sweetmelons her first milking? Oh, and Fuckbags – put your finger through her ring and keep tugging on it lightly while you suckle her. She deserves it for letting you do this to her.”
Fiona was smart enough to know that if Mr Star could get her to do this to Sweetmelons, then he could get someone else to do it to her. And when that happened, she would deserve it.
And yet, she felt she had no choice but to obey. Sweetmelons had sunk to her knees, so Fiona knelt next to her. She reached between Sweetmelons’ legs and hooked a finger through her clit ring, and began to lightly tug on it. Then she leaned down and started to suck the milk from Sweetmelons’ tits.
She felt her own cunt growing wet as she tortured the naked secretary and drank the milk from her udders. She couldn’t help but moan, even with a mouthful of Sweetmelons’ tit.
For Sweetmelons’ part, she couldn’t control the responses of her body. The vibrating pleasure in her clit mixed with the pain of Fiona tugging. The humiliation of her predicament and the pain of her milk-swollen tits combined with the pleasure of Fiona sucking on her nipple.
Sweetmelons orgasmed. “Moooo!” she moaned. And then she orgasmed again.
It was easy to not think of Sweetmelons as a person. No person would moo like a cow while having a co-worker torture their cunt and suck milk from their udders. And if Sweetmelons was an animal, then what Fiona was doing wasn’t so wrong, really.
When Fiona had finally drained the milk from Sweetmelons’ jugs, Mr Star turned off the clit ring. He threw the remote to Fiona.
“Why don’t you use this to make her ring buzz whenever you’re drinking from her?” he said. “It can be a little something to help her appreciate you.”
Fiona knew it wasn’t a suggestion, but a command.
“Now, go back to your desk, Fuckbags,” said Mr Star. “And your work today is to write lines, just like when you were in trouble in school.”
He passed her a set of children’s crayons.
“Use these,” he said. “I want you to write, ‘Women like me are designed to be pregnant and make milk,” again and again until the end of the day. Each time you reach the bottom of a page, draw a picture of yourself, with emphasis on how big your tits are.”
He turned back to his computer.
“That will be all, Fuckbags,” he said.
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If that had been all that Fiona had to think about, it would have been more than enough to leave her anxious, guilty and confused. But of course, Mr Star had also given no indication of what he planned to do with her report, or what fate was in store for herself and the other women she had named.
She spent the day writing lines in crayon on printer paper. The thick crayons made her words look childish and ridiculous. At the end of every page she drew a picture of herself, “with emphasis on her tits”. The crayons did not leave much room for subtlety, and most of the pictures ended up as little more than stick figures with giant cartoonish breasts hanging off them.
Fiona knew these pictures weren’t her, and that she had been forced to draw them. And yet each one triggered a cringe reaction in her, a feeling of instinctive disgust at their lewdness and crudity, and as she continued to draw them she couldn’t help but feel disgust at *herself*, at her breasts, and feel that her tits *were* oversized and cow-like.
Near lunch, it was her turn to milk Sweetmelons again. As she approached the topless girl, she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of this.”
Sweetmelons couldn’t reply – the collar would only turn her words into a “moo”, and so she stayed silent.
And so Fiona sat near her, popped one of the woman’s large breasts into her mouth, and began to suck. And as she did, she pressed the button on the remote that Mr Star had given her.
She truly did enjoy the feeling of a woman’s nipple in her mouth, and the taste of breast milk, and the way that Sweetmelons began to writhe as her clit ring started to buzz made it even more pleasurable.
When she was done, she realised that Mr Star had appeared on the secretarial floor, and that he had watched her breastfeeding from Sweetmelons.
“Very good, Fuckbags,” he said. “Now, give her a kiss, to show your appreciation for her milk.”
“A kiss, sir?” asked Fiona.
“On the lips, Fuckbags,” said Mr Star. “Use tongue. Be a good girl.”
Fiona looked at Sweetmelons doubtfully. But she had already proven that she was willing to torture this woman in order to keep her job. Was kissing her worse? And it was hard to protest that she wasn’t a lesbian when she had just been sucking breast milk out of Sweetmelons’ udders.
And so she leaned up and kissed Sweetmelons on the lips. Sweetmelons moaned, and Fiona pushed her tongue inside her mouth, probing, pressing her mouth hard against that of Sweetmelons, as Mr Star watched approvingly.
“Pay attention girls,” he said, addressing the entire floor. “This is the appropriate way to thank a woman after you have just sucked on her milk. I want to see each of you giving Sweetmelons a kiss just like this after you’ve suckled on her. Anyone who doesn’t seem enthusiastic enough will be fired.”
Then he paused, and added, “Oh, by the way – Fuckbags, I want to see you in conference room C first thing tomorrow morning. And also Britney Penders, Samantha Faulds and April Wessex. That will be all.”
They were the woman that Fiona had named.
And the anxiety that statement brought was so overwhelming that she didn’t even notice when Sweetmelons made a slutty little moan into their shared kiss, and then orgasmed.
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