L - Jealous Wives United - Chapter 3
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Jealous Wives United - Chapter 3
Submission Date: 2003-09-28 By: L [Bi] [General Warning] [Minor] [Nullification]
In the male-scarce America of 2051, an epidemic of extramarital office affairs leads angry homemakers to unite and settle accounts with the pretty, 20-something single "Yuppie" career girls who tried to steal her husbands at work. These outraged stay-at-home moms soon trim the clitoral threat down to size, while taking their shears to a few other provocative appendages as well.
[This is a fantasy of 100% fiction, set many years in the future. Any similarity between its characters and actual persons is purely coincidental. All scientific claims of life extension are also invented.]
As Valerie and her guests started to leave the Mastectomy Chamber, they stopped to watch Darla standing triumphantly before the now titless Hillary. The naked beauty was drenched with perspiration as she slumped in the Mastectator. The dildo was still fully inside her.
Hillary's perspiration was simply her body's natural reaction to the trauma of amputation. Due to her intense orgasm and the anesthetic embedded in her skin patches, she barely felt any pain in her chest. Oiled in their tracks, the heavy blades had cut silently through her teats, making a noise only when they bounced off the hard rubber stops at the end. Her tit flesh barely slowed them down. Hillary caught only a glimpse of her severed breasts dangling by the nipple cords like sides of meat before the matrons unfastened them. Yet, she continued humping against the dildo even as she saw her limp and bloody teats fall onto the ice.
The petite, 40-something matrons who performed Hillary's mastectomy were accustomed to amputating large breasts. Small-breasted wives tended to seek work in the Mastectomy Chamber. They relished any opportunity to flatten the chests of well-endowed 20-somethings. Such women prided themselves on how close to the rib cage they could shave off a pair of large, youthful breasts.
But Hillary's cumming had been too all-consuming for her to take full notice of the slices to her chest and crotch. The dildo head was still oscillating inside her when the matrons carved away her clitoris and labia. The women had simply cut around the shaft, removing Hillary's pussy parts as she humped and moaned with ecstasy from the machinations of the Fucker. Hillary could barely distinguish the blissful work of the dildo from the ravages of the scalpels. The orgasm persisted through her shapely loins when the matrons began wrapping her severed tits.
The Fucker's reputation for easing a mastectomy was well deserved. In spite of the amputations, Hillary had never felt such pleasure, and her mutilated genitals still showed it. Despite the cuts, her wounded pussy tingled and oozed her passion juices. Her sticky emissions dripped from the dark red stumps of her cauterized labia. Her vaginal opening remained wet and cavernous from the exquisite machinations of the thick shaft.
Reality intruded only when Darla signaled for the dildo to be withdrawn. A matron pressed the pedal, and the shaft made its slow but noisy exit. Hillary's pussy gurgled loudly and protractedly as her sopping vaginal opening closed to fill the vacuum left by the departing dildo head. Only after the head fully exited her opening did the pleasurable tingle in her thighs begin to recede. That feeling receded faster when one of the matrons joked about hearing a "pussy fart."
Finally, Hillary's dazed blue eyes met Darla's. The two women looked at each other for a few seconds. Darla's pupils glittered with exultation. Now that Hillary's orgasm had subsided, her eyes expressed only shame and defeat. Her passion had subsided enough to awaken her to what she had just lost. She was now speechless before the older woman who had just caused her privates to be butchered off like so much superfluous meat. The humiliating irony of the situation gripped Hillary's stomach like a fist. After all, she had been the youthful beauty with the perfect body, the object of envy. By contrast, Darla was the thin, past-her-prime, insecure middle-aged wife.
Now the tables had been turned. Hillary lacked even the basics of sexual equipment to attract a man. Darla now had it all over her in that department.
Hillary fully understood the victorious glitter in her rival's eyes, but could not hide the defeat in her own.
This scene had been played out many times in the Mastectomy Chamber, usually before an audience of cheering, taunting wives. There was never a shortage of interest in seeing a home-wrecker's breasts "bite the dust." But this small group, especially with the presence of Trish's 6-year old twins, was plenty of audience for Hillary. Her humiliation at having her sentence carried out before the eyes of curious children was especially exquisite.
Darla knelt and lifted Hillary's severed tits, now bundled in clear plastic, from the tub of dry ice. She held the bundle up before her rival's flushed face and smirked. "You had such big udders, didn't you?"
Hillary blushed as she looked at her lifeless teats. She choked out a tearful, "Yes ma'am."
Hillary's breasts had been her proudest point, a magnet for men even when concealed beneath one of her $1500 designer suits. She was accustomed to male eyes traveling over her bosom as she walked through the corporate halls. Hillary's avowed feminism and businesslike MBA manner did nothing to diminish her secret satisfaction in attracting such notice.
Despite what had been taken from her, Hillary saw no point in betraying any outrage or bitterness towards her gloating owner. After all, Darla still had the sole authority to have Hillary's tenders regenerated. And if Hillary were to deliberately offend Darla in any way, she could find herself riding the Habanero Horse for her insolence. Hillary didn't want to think about straddling that thin, pepper-drenched rail with the raw stubs of her labia exposed. The experience was excruciating enough for an uncircumcised woman.
Darla taunted, "Yes, my husband fell for these udders. These big knockers of yours led him astray. You were so very good at shaking your boobs in front of married men, weren't you?"
Hillary's face grew redder as she carefully replied in remorseful tone, "Yes ma'am." She thought it best to humor the woman. Maybe she would tire of gloating.
Darla held the breasts high. "But now your knockers have been cut off! Now, I'm the only one who can make them shake."
Darla began jiggling the limp breasts in front of Hillary's face. "See? See me do shaky, shaky, shaky with your big proud titties?"
Hillary's stomach wrenched with humiliation to see the older, somewhat flat-chested woman so crudely handle the best feature of her stunning anatomy. Her pussy began to tighten and dry out with Darla's telling barbs. When Hillary had first flirted with Darla's handsome, slightly silver-haired executive husband, she never imagined her illicit affair would lead her to this horribly degrading end.
Darla hefted the package higher and said, "Yes, you had such big teats. And they sliced your knockers off so neatly too, right at the base, with nothing left hanging. Not a sliver of your breast meat was wasted. Your udders will easily feed all my guests tomorrow. And I can't wait to see you help me prepare them and then serve them naked on your knees."
Darla shook her finger in Hillary's face. "And your dainties had better be yummy too."
Hillary's mouth quivered with shame at the prospect of that brunch. Her vagina puckered to think of what she'd have to do to pass muster. Hillary knew that the burden of a quality "tenders feast" always lay on the home-wrecker's shoulders. Swift punishment could result from culinary carelessness with one's tenders. By law, the wife always had the right to demand impeccable service from the home-wrecker in that area.
Darla pulled a flap of plastic away from the bundle, exposing the nipples. She flicked each of them with her finger. "Ooo. And your nozzles are still long and hard. They seem to salute me. It's amazing."
Darla then gently squeezed the ends of Hillary's severed breasts. Drops of milk appeared. She smiled, "How delightful! Your udders are still milky too. I hear breasts are extra delicious and tender when cooked in their own milk. My friend will be bringing her grandchildren to the brunch. Children usually prefer tender meat. So, you must ensure that your teats and pussy parts are properly marinated in your milk prior to cooking."
Hillary wondered how she would muster up the courage to even look at her breasts and labia laying on a cutting board like so many fish to be filleted, much less "prepare" them in an elaborate fashion for Darla's guests. She wondered how she would find the strength to carefully monitor the cooking of her own breasts and vaginal parts in Darla's expensive convection oven, poking them frequently to ensure they were not overcooked.
But Hillary knew she would soon have to swallow her shame and focus all her energies on providing a quality dining experience for Darla's brunch. She also realized she would have to be extra careful to create a dish delectable to small children, as kids always had finicky tastes. She knew she would have to marinate her tenders carefully in gentle spices and apply low heat for many hours.
Darla looked down at Hillary's pussy. "Oh what a pity. Did my comments dry up your pleasure hole? Did they shut your big, shameless, sopping home-wrecker's cunt?"
Hillary could only look away, unable to face the triumphant glow in Darla's eyes
Darla smirked. "Well. Don't feel too bad about your dry pussy crack, Miss Pretty. You won't need it except to pee. Your trimmed-back snatch isn't worthy of being called a cunt anymore."
Hillary hung her head and wept.
Darla finally motioned for the matrons to take Hillary's tenders away. The next time Hillary saw them, she would be stuffing spices into her nipple ducts as the oven heated.
Watching from the door, Trish turned to Valerie and whispered, "Darla's angry, isn't she? She all but danced a jig on Hillary's tits."
Valerie nodded. "Her rage is strong. Hillary will be walking on eggs around her owner for a while. And that home-wrecker knows she'd better serve up her breasts in the most respectful and delicious manner at that brunch tomorrow."
"You mean she'd better roast her titties with care and serve them up with a smile, huh?"
"With a gracious smile, nude and on her knees. Darla will want to impress her guests with her control of the situation. A wife has the right to expect that of a woman who tried to break up her family. I demanded it of Kirsten. You've the right to expect it from Jennifer."
Trish nodded, "To make Jennifer cook and serve her own titties, well, that'd be justice if there ever was any."
Finally Trish asked, "What's next on our tour?"
Valerie replied, "I'd like to show you the heart of our operation. It's why we call this facility a dairy."
The group entered an elevator and soon found themselves on a catwalk high above a space as large as an aircraft hanger. When Valerie led the trio out onto an observation platform, Trish's mouth dropped open at the scene that unfolded before her. Her twins pressed against the rail, transfixed by the sight.
Several rows of naked women, all on their hands and knees, stretched a hundred yards on either side of the brightly lit area. Other naked prisoners stood in line at the ends of each row.
Sitting on a short stool at each kneeling woman's side was a young girl, often Asian. The girls' hands were under the nude women, steadily pumping. Other young girls rolled pails brimming with milk out from under the naked prisoners, and then tipped them into a covered channel running between the rows. The channels emptied into huge pasteurizing vats. Other milk was being channeled into butter churns whose handles were being cranked by titless women.
Trish saw a prisoner grimace and curl her toes as if in pain. The young girl sitting on the stool beside her appeared to wrench her hands in several crisp jerks. Once the prisoner had endured the painful wringing of her last milk drops, she was ordered to stand up. Then another naked women hurried down the aisle to take her place in the stall.
Trish gasped, "Oh my god. Are they all being...?"
Valerie nodded. "Yes, this is our Milking Center, or the Milky Way as the matrons have nicknamed it. We take all the prisoners' breast milk here. This is where these young ladies earn their keep, so to speak. They benefit the local community with fresh milk, cheese and butter - at least until their tits are cut off."
"They're like cows?"
"That's exactly what they are. Cows. These prisoners have a sacred duty to ensure that the children of offended wives never want. And their teats provide quite a bounty towards that end. Our little ones enjoy the prisoners' milk in their morning cereal. They lavish their tit butter on their breakfast toast. They use their tit cheese for daily snacks. They even enjoy their titty ice cream for desert. Day after day, we wring the prisoners' udders dry for these products."
Trish exclaimed, "I can believe it. It's the biggest barn I've ever seen!"
Valerie replied, "Our Milking Center is quite substantial and will be expanded further as the prison population grows. We currently have 500 milking stalls, with milkmaids working four-hour shifts."
Samantha leaned over the rail and cried, "Look Mommy! Their big tee-tee's are all bare!"
Trish patted her daughter. "Yes honey. I can see their bare titties very well."
Valerie smiled at the 6-year old. "The ladies are always bare tee-tee in the milking stalls."
Samantha looked up at the Chief Matron. "Do all bad ladies have to go bare tee-tee here?"
Valerie nodded. "Yes honey. Bare tee-tee is the law for home-wreckers."
The little girl asked, "Are you going to cut off their bosoms like you did the pretty lady in that room?"
The Chief Matron nodded. "Yes honey. Someday we'll cut off at least some of their bosoms."
"Can I watch you cut off their tee-tee's?"
Trish blushed at her daughter's audacity. Valerie only smiled and replied. "Honey, if it's ok with your mommy, you're welcome to come here and watch anytime you want. In fact, we're going to cut off some nice big tee-tee's for your VIP dinner tonight."
The little girl beamed. But then she frowned. "I hate that Jennifer lady who tried to steal my daddy! I'll kick her in her big tee-tees if she does that again!"
Both women laughed. Trish hugged her daughter. "Sweetie. Great minds think alike. I want to kick her there too!"
Valerie smiled at the child. "Honey, you have every right to kick her hard in her bare tee-tees."
Samantha looked up. "Would that hurt her tee-tees a lot?"
"You better believe it would, sweetie. It would make her tee-tees hurt like sin."
Trish turned and said, "My daughter has been taking Pee Wee Karate classes. She likes to kick things."
The Chief Matron smiled. "Good for her. And there's no need to restrain your little girl's urges here, either. These prisoners always have a few good kicks coming to their knockers. My Kimi has rocked a few udders with her size 4 feet."
Trish giggled "Too cool. To tell you the truth, Val, I'd rather see my little girl wear herself out on some home-wrecker's udders than ruin the side of my expensive couch!"
Trish suddenly noticed young girls with floggers walking between the rows. They swung their cat-o-nines in lazy strokes against the prisoners' exposed vulvas. The wet smacks of the rawhide cords were audible all the way up to the observation platform.
Trish turned to Valerie. "The girls with the floggers. Why are they whipping the prisoners? Are they punishing them for giving too little milk?"
Valerie smiled. "It's not so much that, but to speed their milk production. The whippings sexually stimulate the prisoners' pussies. That, in turn, loosens their milk ducts. A good pussy whipping makes their nozzles gush. As for the prisoners, feeling the lash on their vulvas is the best part of this chore for them. The women are super horny you know, even when being milked."
Trish said, "I never imagined the connection between their horniness and their lactation. I'm learning something new every minute here!"
The Chief Matron pointed to a nearby elevator. "Shall we go down and have a closer inspection of the operation?"
Trish looked at her twins. "Do you guys want to see it?"
Samantha said, "Yes! I want to see those moo-cow ladies!"
Trish and Valerie laughed. The Chief Matron smiled at the little girl. "You can look at the moo-cow ladies all you want sweetie!"
Michael only nodded bashfully.
The Chief Matron said, "Then let's head down to the milking floor. Let your kids see these criminal cows up close and personal."
Valerie pushed an intercom button on the wall and spoke, "Attention cows! Mind your manners in the milking stalls! Visitors are on the way!"
Valerie led her guests to an elevator. The group was soon entering the main floor. The sounds of squirting, sloshing milk were now audible. The air had a fresh, sweet smell.
The party passed by a naked woman, shorn of her tits and recently circumcised, straining at the crank of a butter churn. Her bare toes gripped the polished concrete as she grunted to keep the handle turning.
Trish's twins watched the struggling prisoner intently. Their eyes soon dropped to look at the cauterized stubs of her shorn labia.
Valerie said, "She's a processor. We have the titless ones make the butter, cheese and ice cream. It's exhausting work, but it must go on for the sake of our little customers."
The woman working the churn paused and blushed when she saw Trish's twins staring at her. After a moment, she composed herself and tried to resume her churning. But the crank would barely turn.
A matron rushed up and pulled the woman's head back by her shoulder length brown hair. She snapped, "Staring at guests, huh? Your job is to get that butter out, you rude titless bitch! Do I have to strap your cunt on the Horse to get you cracking?"
The wincing woman gasped, "Oh god no, please Mistress. Not the Horse. I won't let it happen again!" Gritting and grunting and pulling with every fiber of her being, the former prom queen and A-list debutante from Long Island finally got the crank moving again.
Trish asked, "What's this Horse she just referred to?"
The Chief Matron replied, "It's a punishment device. Its full name is the Habanero Horse. It's a kind of hobbyhorse with shackles. We smear its rail with the juice of the Habanero pepper, the hottest there is. We then make the disobedient or insolent prisoner sit her naked pussy on it for specified period. It gives her the ride of her life."
Trish cringed. "Ewww! It sounds ferocious."
The Chief Matron nodded. "It is. A woman who has experienced the Horse will do anything to avoid repeating the experience."
Valerie said, "I'll show you the Horse and other punishment devices later. Meanwhile, let me take you down one of the milking rows."
Trish and her wide-eyed twins were soon walking between two lines of naked women. All were being vigorously milked. A flogger was working her way towards them from the far end of the row. She stopped at each woman and swung her whip 360 degrees, audibly smacking her pussy with the ends of the rawhide thongs. The recipient of the blow pointed her toes and let out an "Ooo!" The sound was one of half pain and half pleasure.
Trish was struck by the youth of the milkmaids and the flogger girls. None of these females looked older than 13. She commented to Valerie, "Your Dairy workers are just kids!"
The Chief Matron nodded. "They may be kids, but they have strong hands and they milk hard."
When Trish and her twins looked to their right, they saw a row blushing faces with forced smiles. The prisoners' naked tits hung beneath them, squeezed by small but strong hands. Thin streams of milk pulsed from their erect nipples, slowly filling the pails. Some of the prisoners bit their lower lips from the force of the squeezes. The milkmaids milked with increasing force as the breasts neared empty. At the end, they would take a single breast into both hands and twist it repeatedly to coax the last drops into the pail. The girls had been trained to wring each prisoner's udders of every last drop before excusing her from the stall. It made the final stage of a milking a dreaded torment.
Trish said, "I see what you mean. They are getting a hard milking. It looks painful for some of them."
Valerie nodded. "These little girls will wring the prisoners' udders like dishrags if they have to. Trust me. The women who leave these stalls will be as dry as a desert gulch."
Valerie continued to lead her guests down the row.
When Trish and her twins looked to their left, they saw the wrinkled, upturned soles of kneeling feet. Swollen, glistening vulvas peeked out from between the prisoners' legs. The women were clearly sexually heated from the flogging.
Trish immediately noticed the turgid labia, dripping with juice. "Ewww. Their pussies are wet."
Valerie smiled, "That's the Spanish Fly. Its work never stops. That and the whips help enhance their milk production. As I said, a horny woman lactates more freely."
The Chief Matron added, "But I'm sorry for exposing your children to so much naked, sopping pussy. I hope the sight of so much bare cunt doesn't startle them. It's just that we have to keep their vaginas exposed to the whips."
Trish said, "There's no need to apologize. These milkings are for a good cause."
Valerie smiled when she saw Michael staring at the endless soles of feet on the left side of the row. She whispered to Trish, "But I don't think it's the pussies that interest your son."
Trish blushed, but smiled wryly. "I know what you mean. With my son, it's always the feet, the feet, the feet."
Valerie smiled. "Don't worry, Trish. I've already adjusted your tour to take your little boy's special interests into account."
The milkmaids looked up and smiled, but continued to work. Some chatted in a foreign language. The sounds of squirting milk filled the air as they laughed and talked among themselves.
Trish said, "What language are those girls speaking? They look Asian."
The Chief Matron replied, "Not sure. It could be Vietnamese, Thai or Cambodian. We have all kinds. We discovered that hand milking is a lost art in America. So we placed some Internet ads for experienced traditional milkmaids. We learned that most of that expertise lies in less developed nations. These Southeast Asian girls jumped at the chance to come here. Now they're teaching our American girls to milk."
"They look so young."
"Young girls do that kind of work in those countries."
"Did the foreign girls know that they were going to be milking human tits here in America?"
Valerie giggled. "We thought we had explained it, but I guess they assumed it was a mistranslation. They expected to see cows, the hoofed kind. It was quite an eye opener for them to arrive here and see a herd of naked American girls awaiting their attentions."
Trish laughed. "That must have blown their minds."
"Yep. The foreign milkmaids showed some consternation at first, and they were quite awed by the size of white women's breasts. Tall women with size 36 tits are an uncommon sight in Ho Chi Minh City. So, I let them see the naked calisthenics. That little obedience demonstration did the trick. Soon their tiny hands were pumping away at these big teats. These little Southeast Asian girls have jerked a river of milk into those vats. And they've showed our American girls how to do it as well. Even my daughter Kimi knows how to milk the prisoners."
The foursome passed by a pretty Thai girl with a flower in her hair. The petite, 12-year old Supa Patagong was sitting on a stool, milking the pendulous size-36 breasts of Cheryl Wellington, a very white, stunningly pretty, Ivy League educated former junior account executive from Connecticut.
The nude 27-year old prisoner blushed when she saw Trish's twins watching the process. Cheryl had been a star at her Manhattan investment-banking firm, and it shamed her to be seen as just another naked cow. Yet, the pretty blonde was careful to present Trish's twins with a pleasant smile. She had learned quickly that her prominent Stamford family counted for nothing within the walls of the Penal Dairy. On her first day, while still wearing her street clothes, Cheryl's group was led by the Child Care Center. When some of the children saw how pretty Cheryl was, they clamored for her to come in and play Nanny Tickle. Cheryl had reacted indignantly when a matron ordered her to remove her $350 dress pumps for that game. Her reaction had resulted in her being stripped naked on the spot. Cheryl's indiscretion earned her a ferocious paddling on her bare soles, followed by 15 minutes on the Habanero Horse with weights hung from her feet. Her 15 minutes on that device had seemed like a lifetime. When the matrons finally lifted her wildly burning vulva off the Horse, her attitude had been transformed. Two days later, she was smiling sweetly in Child Care as a little black boy wrestled her pumps off for a game of Nanny Tickle.
Trish noticed her children's interest in Cheryl and stopped to let them watch. The twins were fascinated to see the Thai girl's tiny hands wring thin jets of milk out of Cheryl's long, pink nipples. They were amazed at how much power children held over grown women in this place.
And even the twins noticed that Cheryl was an exceptional lactator. Once the milkmaid got to work on her, her jets blasted the sides of the pail.
Supa looked up and smiled at the children. She said in accented English, "Oh you're such a cute little pair! Would you two like some warm, sweet milk fresh from her big white titties? I just started milking this cow, so her udders are full!"
Cheryl held her smile, but her face was crimson. She could never get used to the free access children had been granted to the Milking Center. The Center was the subject of repeated field trips by the local schools. Wives invariably brought their broods to see the operation. Sometimes the kids ran free among the milking stalls giggling at the prisoners' exposed pussies, tickling their rib cages and feet, tweaking and pulling on their toes, and sampling their milk. All the while, the prisoners had to hold their "milking poses" until the milkmaids had finished. Cheryl never forgot how she had to hold still for a milking while two little girls nearly pulled her big toes out of joint.
Of course, these childish antics didn't bother the milkmaids. They loved to show off their skills and often milked the prisoners harder when an audience was present.
Anyway, Michael giggled bashfully at Supa's offer. More boldly, Samantha asked, "Is her tee-tee milk good?"
Supa giggled. "Her tee-tee milk? What a cute American word! I've heard 'udders' and 'titties' and 'tits' and 'knockers' and 'jugs' and 'boobs.' But 'tee-tee' is a new one for me. I think it's cute!"
Supa smiled. "Anyway, her tee-tee milk is yummy! American milk is all so rich!"
Michael licked his lips, watching. He loved milk.
Supa smiled and lifted Cheryl's teats until the nipples pointed at the children. The ends of her nipples dripped with milk. "Please try it if you like."
Samantha finally said, "Ok."
Michael looked up at his mother. She smiled, "Sweetie, it's ok with me if you want some."
The little boy smiled at Supa. "Me too."
Supa slapped Cheryl's naked ass. "Tits up, slave. They want to taste you."
Blushing, Cheryl clasped her hands behind her head and straightened up. Her breasts now hung down against her rib cage, pendulous and still gorged with milk.
Cheryl's face was now more visible to Trish. The prisoner seemed disturbingly familiar to her.
Supa motioned for the two children to come closer. Soon their mouths were just a few inches from Cheryl's dripping nipples.
The Thai girl smiled at the twins. "Who wants to go first?"
Samantha quickly raised her hand.
Supa giggled. "Ladies first huh? Open your mouth."
The little girl leaned forward with her mouth open. Supa lifted Cheryl's left teat and squeezed the end. A white jet of milk shot out onto Samantha's tongue. The little girl licked and gulped it down. She said, "It's warm!"
Cheryl breathed a silent sigh of relief that the little girl seemed pleased.
Supa released Cheryl's left teat and smiled. "Do you want to try some from her right udder?"
Samantha nodded.
The Thai girl repeated the process with Cheryl's right tit. The little girl eagerly drank it.
When Supa stopped squeezing, Samantha frowned. "More!"
Supa laughed. "Sure! Let's try this." Supa lifted both of Cheryl's breasts and squeezed, directing double jets into the little girl's open mouth. This time she held the pressure, filling Samantha's mouth.
Supa stopped the streams to let the child swallow. Then she squeezed again.
Finally, Samantha turned her head aside and put up her hand to intercept the streams, deflecting the milk down into the pail.
Valerie quickly knelt by the child and said, "Honey, you blocked her milk. Did it become yucky?"
The little girl shook her head. "No. I just wanted leave some for my brother."
Cheryl breathed a sigh of relief. The sight of the child blocking her milk had made her heart jump. Any such rejection of her product placed Cheryl at risk of being severely disciplined.
Supa looked at the little boy. "Are you ready for some milk, honey?"
The child shyly stepped up and opened his mouth. Supa squeezed a small jet from Cheryl's left teat onto his tongue, which he swallowed quickly.
Supa said, "Is it good? Do you want more?"
Michael nodded. He loved the taste from the big titties.
Supa squeezed both Cheryl's teats, filling the child's mouth. Then she stopped to let him swallow.
Michael was satisfied after Supa filled his mouth a third time.
Meanwhile, Trish continued to study Cheryl's face. Finally, she turned to Valerie and asked, "By any chance, is this prisoner's name Cheryl?"
The Chief Matron nodded.
Trish said, "Cheryl Wellington?"
Valerie raised her eyebrows. "Yes. Do you know this prisoner?"
Cheryl watched the exchange uneasily. Trish's face was beginning to look familiar.
Trish said, "Yes, I met Miss Wellington at an office party. What a snob she was back then! When she worked at my husband's firm, she was part of the single-girls' conspiracy that got my Ethan laid off after he stopped his affair with Jennifer. Cheryl was a charter member of Jennifer's husband-stealing gang."
Cheryl's heart sank. She cursed her luck at having to face an angry wife under these circumstances.
Samantha looked up at her mother. "Did this lady try to take my daddy too?"
Trish held her daughter close. "She helped take away his job. She's a bad lady, just like Jennifer Spencer."
Cheryl felt a sickening twist in her stomach as she saw the little girl suddenly glaring at her. The beauty smiled back awkwardly, She wondered if this encounter would end with mere harsh words or if she was in for something more uncomfortable. The steady ferocity of the child's glare was truly unsettling.
Samantha's eyes dropped to Cheryl's tits. Then she looked up at her mother and spluttered angrily, "I wish I could..."
Trish said, "You wish you could do what, sweetie?"
The little girl motioned that she needed to whisper something.
Trish knelt and offered her ear. She was both shocked and amused at what she heard. She gasped, "Oh sweetie! You do?"
The little girl nodded firmly.
Valerie asked, "What does your daughter want to do?"
Trish stood up and replied, "Well, she says she wants to Karate-kick Cheryl's tits. She wonders if it's ok."
Valerie smiled at the child with respect and approval. She reassuringly patted the little girl's shoulder. "I totally understand, honey. You're so angry with bad ladies like Cheryl that you want to kick them in their tits. Well that's perfectly ok. You can kick Cheryl's big knockers all over this dairy if you like. Do you want to try it now?"
The little girl nodded.
Cheryl's eyes grew wide. Though she estimated the child weighed barely 40 pounds, she saw an athletic core in her tiny 6-year old build. In panic, Cheryl smiled unctuously at the child and stammered, "Oh please, Mistress Samantha. I'm so very sorry about your daddy. I won't be a bad lady like that anymore! OK?"
Valerie slapped Cheryl's face and snapped, "Shut up bitch and hang those knockers out there for the child! Hang your udders out there and keep them out there no matter how hard this little girl kicks them, or I'll have you dragged to the Mastectator! Is that clear?"
Supa dug her long fingernails into Cheryl's vulva. "Yes! Do as she says, white girl, or I'll tear your pussy lips off right here!"
Trembling with apprehension and wincing with pain, Cheryl arched her back until her breasts swung freely.
Valerie gave a thumbs-up sign to Samantha. "Now show us what you learned in Karate school, sweetie. Make her big jugs dance!"
Trish said, "Yeah, honey, show Miss Wellingsnob what you can do!"
The little girl took a bead on Cheryl's left titty. Then, after drawing a deep breath, she twirled 360 degrees and her right leg shot out. Cheryl's mouth dropped open in a soundless cry of pain. The small, sneaker-clad foot had struck the side of her naked, milk-gorged left breast like small baseball bat.
Trish winced as she saw Cheryl's milk spurt from the force of the blow. She looked at her daughter in awe. Milk droplets were visible on the little girl's cotton jersey.
Trish gasped, "God sweetie. You really popped her udder!"
Supa gasped, "Eww! She's a real Karate Milker!"
Samantha, who loved to be center stage, beamed over all the adult approval. Then she twirled again, shooting her left foot out to slam the side of Cheryl's right breast.
Cheryl let out a deep, toe-curling groan. The blow made her ache down to the small of her back. It was all she could do to hold her pose. She wanted to curl up in a fetal position to cradle her aching udders.
Samantha swung her right leg back and then whipped it forward to strike the underside of Cheryl's left breast, kicking it like a football. The blow caused the breast to jerk upward and shoot a stream of milk into the air. The fluid came down in on Cheryl's hair and face. The beauty bit her lip in agony as milk dripped from her eyebrows and nose.
Valerie turned to Trish. "I'm glad those aren't my tits. Your daughter is a holy terror with her kicking feet."
Trish nodded. "I know. She's the best in her Karate class they tell me."
Samantha drew her right foot back and kicked the underside of Cheryl's right breast. More milk fell on Cheryl's head as she nearly crumpled from the blow. The ends of her tits were now swollen.
Samantha looked at Cheryl's swelling breasts, wondering what to try next. Finally, the little girl walked up, raised her arms, and slapped down. Her fingertips whipped against Cheryl's already aching areolae.
Cheryl whimpered as the pain shot to the core of her breasts. The ends of her teats were now throbbing like angry war drums.
But there was no respite. Samantha held her arms wide apart, and then brought them inward, slapping Cheryl's breasts together like cymbals. Milk shot out onto Samantha's jersey.
Cheryl saw stars. She was now dizzy with pain. She wondered if this little bundle of energy would every stop.
Trish smirked as she looked at the suffering beauty. "What's the matter, bitch? Does my little daughter make your big udders hurt?"
Cheryl, with her eyes full of tears, nodded emphatically. Her tits felt as if they would break open like Piñatas if the little girl hit them again.
Trish looked at her daughter. "Do you feel better now, honey, or do you want to attack her udders some more?"
Samantha studied Cheryl's pendulous teats. They were now showing the beginnings of ugly bruises. Cheryl's eyes were pleading for mercy.
Cheryl smiled gratefully when Samantha finally replied, "No." She felt the urge to kiss the child's feet in gratitude.
But Cheryl's relief was short-lived. Supa ordered her back down on all fours. The Thai girl intended to finish the milking. But the swelling had constricted Cheryl's milk ducts, so her flow was now painfully slow. The beauty wept, winced and groaned as Supa's wiry yellow fingers worked for 30 more minutes to wring her sore teats dry.
Meanwhile, Valerie led her guests down the remainder of the rows. The prisoners they encountered down the line had overheard Cheryl's ordeal. The worried "cows" prayed the little girl didn't have the urge to "practice" her Karate anymore.
At the end of the Milking Center tour, Valerie treated her guests to heaping scoops of titty ice cream.
[Comments are very welcome (and desired) from readers who enjoy "F" types of stories of this nature. Thanks!]