‘Stupid girl,’ my boss said. I flushed as he squeezed my other breast and a warm gush of milk spurted out of me, landing on his hand. Mr hunter licked the milk off his skin, smiling like a satisfied cat. ‘My very own milkcow,’ he said. ‘And your udders are so big, Molly. What a good dairy cow you’re going to be.’ Chapter 1 of Molly’s Cage is here.
Thank you for reading my stories!
My novel, Serafina’s Gift, is an erotic story of slow enslavement by a demon. Read Chapters 1 to 18 in my writing, and if you enjoy them, buy the book at All These Roadworks or Smashwords.
Molly’s Cage: Chapter 14
[Femsub maledom office erotica with non-consent, discipline, chastity belts and lactation]
I forced myself to speak past lips that were numb with shock.
‘I d-don’t understand,’ I said. ‘W-what have you done? I-I…’
‘You took the pills,’ Mr Hunter smiled condescendingly at me. ‘And you’re going to keep taking them, now I know how well they work. In fact,’ he looked down, his eyes drinking in my naked breasts. ‘I might double the dose.’
He looked back up, his eyes hard on mine, a slight smile on his mouth.
‘Get on the coffee table,’ he said firmly. ‘On all fours. Like a dog.’
‘Wh-what?’ I said, not moving. I stood still in shock, feeling hopelessly exposed, naked except for my stockings and my stupid skirt scrunched up around my waist.
Mr Hunter slapped my face in response, not painfully, just a gentle slap, and I gasped, my eyes wide. He had done this before, occasionally, when I was too slow to obey an order or he thought I was being unnecessarily stupid.
‘Do it, girl,’ he said, steel in his voice. ‘Now. On the table. Like a bitch.’
Trembling, I stepped past him, the expensive fabric of his suit brushing smoothly over my skin so that I shivered. I took a deep breath and knelt down on the table. I paused and took one look at his face — uncompromising, unrelenting — and then I bent forward, coming onto all fours, my knees and hands on each corner of the small table. Mr Hunter stroked down my back with lazy fingers, clearly enjoying the feeling of my skin.
‘You’re my milk cow,’ he said, chuckling in satisfaction. ‘And what does one do with milk cows, Molly?’
I shivered at his touch, feeling overwhelmed at everything that was happening — my near-nakedness, the sight of the milk splashing out of my nipple, Mr Hunter’s hands on me and the sound of his smug, arrogant voice.
‘Silent for once?’ he smirked meanly. ‘But what have I told you about not answering me? What does one do with a milk cow, Molly?’
‘M-milks them?’ I whispered, my voice hoarse with strain. I didn’t know what was happening and I wished it would stop.
‘Such a clever girl,’ Mr Hunter said softly, half mean, half praising. I flushed again, wanting to cry, as he kept stroking me, his hand running up and down my naked back as if I was his toy, his property to touch how he wanted. ‘Yes, Molly. Milk cows exist to be milked.’
I gasped as his wandering fingers drifted down my ribs and underneath my torso, his palm reaching out to caress across both of my large boobs.
‘Such pretty udders,’ Mr Hunter murmured, caressing my naked breasts while I crouched on all fours on his coffee table.
I blushed so red hot at the crude term that I thought my face would never cool down. Mr Hunter kept speaking.
‘This is what is going to happen. Each morning, after your inspection, you’ll put yourself here, just like this, in your milking position. You’ll tell me if you have been a good cow. And then you’ll ask me, very kindly, to milk you.’
I just moaned in humiliation. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t do any of this.
‘So… Let’s start. Have you been a good cow, Molly?’ Mr Hunter asked, a mean glee in his voice. He knew how hard this was for me, and he didn’t care.
‘I…’ I paused, blushing, feeling utterly humiliated as he kept stroking my breasts. Now that I knew, I could feel how much they had grown, how they felt hot and sensitive from the hormonal changes that had made me start to lactate.
‘Please don’t treat me like this,’ I whispered eventually, knowing it was the wrong thing to say, knowing that he was not going to pay any attention.
‘I’ll treat you however I want to,’ Mr Hunter said, sniggering a little. ‘I’m not the person who has gotten you into this mess, Molly. You are.’
‘I’m not!’ I said, then I gasped sharply in pain as Mr Hunter gripped one of my sensitive nipples between his finger and thumb, digging his thumbnail into me.
‘Have you been a good cow?’ he repeated his question, but it was clearly rhetorical when he kept speaking. ‘Clearly not.’
He slapped me hard on my butt as he spoke, and I shrieked, half in actual pain, half in shock. The motion drove the dildo sharply into my deep inner wall and I moaned at the feeling of dual arousal. Mr Hunter slapped my butt again, and then again, still holding me still with his finger and thumb on my nipple.
He kept slapping me and I kept gasping and almost screaming each time, tears from the humiliation and stinging pain running down my cheeks. Eventually, when I had lost count of the number of times he had spanked me, and my breath was coming in huge gasps, he stopped.
‘Tell me that you’re going to be a good cow for me today,’ Mr Hunter said, and I moaned with the humiliation.
‘I’m g-going to be a good cow for you today,’ I said, my voice tiny and embarrassed, my cheeks aflame.
How could he make me say that? How could he do this to me? How could he slap my butt? I was deliberately not thinking about how wet it had made me, or how aroused I had been from the feeling of the dildo driving ruthlessly into me.
‘Good,’ Mr Hunter said, rich, deliberate approval entering into his voice. ‘See, that wasn’t so hard, was it, girl?’
‘N-no, Sir,’ I stammered, my eyes still full of tears.
‘Ask me to milk you.’
‘I…’ I paused. I didn’t want him to spank me again. ‘I can’t,’ I wailed. I took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know how,’ I said in a small voice, wishing the ground would just open to swallow me.
Why, why had I ever gotten those porn photos done when I was at university? Why hadn’t I been more careful about where they went? Why had I landed myself straight into the hands of a person like Mr Hunter? And why couldn’t I seem to bring myself to be free of him? Hells, I knew that some insane part of me enjoyed parts of what he was doing to me, and I couldn’t understand why.
‘Don’t be coy,’ Mr Hunter said flatly. ‘Say. ‘Please milk me, Mr Hunter’.’
‘I can’t,’ I said, hating the whining sound in my voice. ‘It’s wrong.’
‘Well,’ he chuckled meanly. ‘You’re the one with the udders dripping milk. Stand back up. Get dressed. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Please follow me for more stories! Chapter 15 of Molly’s Cage is here.
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Pixie Isobella 