L - Jealous Wives United - Chapter 8
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Jealous Wives United - Chapter 8
Submission Date: 2005-01-30 By: L [Bi] [General Warning] [Minor]
In the male-scarce America of 2051, an epidemic of extramarital office affairs led angry wives and 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 "soccer moms" soon united to trim the clitoral threat down to size. They took their kitchen knives to a few other provocative appendages as well.
[This is a fantasy of 100% fiction, set many decades in the future. Any similarities between its characters and actual persons are purely coincidental. All scientific claims of life extension are also invented. See the earlier chapters for the full context of the story.]
Eun Lee commanded the women to form a single-file line for their march into the prison. Once she had formed this coffle, the matron lifted ten pussy-hair collars from a nearby bag and fastened one collar to each woman's neck. Then, she began yoking the collars to her Golden Cable. As was her custom, Eun imbued every event with ceremony and symbolism. This one was no exception. Forming the new prisoners into a traditional slave coffle was Eun's way of announcing to everyone that these women were indeed slaves. Her use of other slaves' pubic hair to bind them was intended to emphasize that point.
As Eun worked her way down the coffle, the women noticed the unusual texture of the collars and rope she was using. To them, the material looked and felt like silk. They imagined it to be expensive and, as such, out of place for a prison.
Sensing their curiosity, the Korean girl said, "You might have noticed this is no cheap hemp I'm using to bind you. These collars and ropes are a rarity in this world, but they express the Penal Dairy's culture beautifully. No home-wrecker can look at them and fail to understand the debt on her shoulders."
With a slight smile, Eun looked at the puzzled women and said, "They were woven from our inmates. It's female pubic hair. Each strand was individually plucked from 1000 of the blondest home-wrecker cunts ever to pass through this prison."
The new prisoners looked down at the cable in horrified astonishment. They now cringed at its touch.
Eun raised her eyebrows and said sarcastically, "What? You don't like the feel of your sisters' cunt hair? How unsociable! With attitudes like that, how on earth will you ever bond with your companions in crime?"
The prisoners looked blankly at the matron. They were at a loss for any reply to such a humiliating remark.
Eun sighed in mock exasperation. "If the touch of their hair freaks you out, should I tape their smelly nylons to your nostrils to take your minds off it? I mean, would you prefer to bond with your fellow slaves by smelling the scent of their sweaty feet? That can easily be arranged, you know."
The prisoners blushed at this outrageous suggestion.
Eun said, "Well, which shall it be, just their pussy hair or their smelly stockings as well?"
Red faced, Jessica Stanwick finally muttered, "Hair only for me, please Mistress Lee." The other women nodded quickly. The alternative revolted them.
Jessica wondered where the depravity of the Korean beauty's mind ended. Nevertheless, she had to give Eun her due as a disciplinarian. She seemed to have an unfailing sixth sense for what would curl a woman's toes with embarrassment.
Eun shook her head and mocked, "Such prima donnas. You're too good to get your noses into your sisters' nylons to appreciate what their feet are going through. How sad! I guess it's going to be every woman for herself with this batch."
Eun continued, "Anyway, I wanted blonde pubic hair for my first set of collars and ropes. I just love the way it shimmers in the sun."
Eun ran her slender fingers along the end of the tether. "This rope is so cool, so sensual. It's hard to imagine the painful squealing that went into making it. Trust me, many women groaned to furnish this hairy harvest. They gave every hair of their pubic bushes for it. And it was weeks in the making."
The Korean girl walked back down the line, checking her work. "I plan to weave a tether of black Asian pussy hair as well, and several collars and shorter ropes of mixed colors. The short ropes will be used as children's jump ropes. After all, the tots who visit our Dairy need toys to play with when they're tired of inspecting and tickling women's feet."
The new slaves looked ahead, trying not to hear. Eun's continually shocking revelations left them red-faced.
Eun said, "And there's other uses for pussy hair such as placemats and wall hangings."
The Korean girl giggled, "One mother has even inquired about obtaining a pillow stuffed with pussy hair for the new baby she's expecting. I thought to myself, how appropriate! I've always felt home-wreckers should provide every possible form of tribute to honor a birth."
The Korean girl's brown eyes scanned the new prisoners' crotch areas, now covered by expensive skirts. She teased, "Hmmm. Perhaps the hair of your cunts will soon be plucked to support that worthy cause. After all, considering your crimes, you should be honored to make amends by surrendering your bushes to provide rest for a baby's head."
The prisoners blushed at the thought of being sheared like sheep for such reparation. The vengeful perversions of the Penal Dairy seemed beyond outrageous.
Eun's comments also reminded the new prisoners of their own untrimmed pubic hair. While the women were held for trial, they had been forbidden to shave any areas other than their legs. As a result, the defendants grew unruly bushes. Now, they suspected the reason for the restriction.
The Korean matron began leading the dispirited women towards the huge prison complex. As she walked, she said, "This is a tough institution, but it's no concentration camp. You'll be fed handsomely in amounts necessary to maintain a normal weight. We serve organically grown food of the highest quality, as well as spring water from the French Alps. You'll also be exercised regularly."
Eun smiled back at the women. "Look on the bright side, ladies. You'll get to take off your tight shoes and hot sticky nylons for the exercises. Yeah, you can thank your lucky stars that we allow you prisoners to air out your tired Yuppie feet now and then.
"Of course, visiting children get to watch the exercises. So be mindful of your foot odor, because the bolder kids like to watch the workouts closely. Sometimes a kid can move in so close that you have to take care not to poke a big toe in his or her eye. So, I don't want any complaints about stinky feet at calisthenics."
The new prisoners walked uneasily behind the Korean girl. Their faces were red with shame at her remarks. It seemed Eun would leave no stone unturned in her quest to humiliate her new charges.
Eun took a shortcut leading to the "Milky Way." It was the operational heart of the Penal Dairy. She made sure every new prisoner saw it.
As Eun led the new prisoners out onto the vast milking floor, she turned and swept her arm across the busy scene. She said, "This, ladies, is where women of your kind start paying your debts to society. "
The shocking spectacle struck the new prisoners nearly breathless. Their brains took a few seconds to register what their eyes were seeing -- endless rows of stalls full of naked prisoners on all fours. Other nude women waited in lines for their turns. The sounds of squirting milk striking hundreds of shiny pails filled the air. The sound made clear what was happening.
The new prisoners had heard of the practice of extracting women's milk, but they never imagined it was done in such degrading fashion and on such a huge scale. It was like a factory.
Eun continued, "The Milky Way, as we have named it, is dedicated to serving the infants and children of homes disrupted by home-wreckers. Its products are milk, tit cheese, tit butter, and ice cream. We do everything we can to please a child's palate in both the quantity and quality of such items."
"Ever prisoner with tits on her chest is milked daily here. As long as your have udders, be assured your bags will be milked to their last drop. You owe the children everything your milk ducts can turn out."
The Korean matron gave the new prisoners a stern look and added, "Also know this. It will take a mighty Amazon River of milk to wash away your sins. And the many ladies you see in these stalls have barely made a dent in it. As soon as we finish your foot inspection, you'll join them in their labors."
Now the women began to understand the strange transformation that had occurred in their breasts over the past three weeks. As the Tribunal wore on, their mammaries began to feel heavy. Their bras seemed too tight. And when they undressed for bed in the Holding Dormitory, their naked breasts tumbled out like overripe melons. Their breasts were also painful to the touch and their nipples were continually erect. The women had attributed these strange symptoms to the stress of the trial. At least, they knew they weren't pregnant.
The women were experiencing the effects of a "conditioning vitamin." Each day of the Tribunal, they were forced to consume this powerful hormonal substance. As intended, the vitamin was proving very effective in stimulating lactation. The dosage was timed to bring a woman's breasts to the leaking point upon her arrival at the Dairy, to make her a productive "cow" on day one.
The prisoners' hearts sank to realize they were now "ready" for the labor of the stalls. On the other hand, they also knew the pressure in their breasts had built to the point that relief would soon be a must. They had spent their last two nights sleepless with discomfort due to this condition.
As the stunned women looked closer at the stalls, they took no comfort in the style of milking either. It was not a gentle process. Indeed, it seemed deliberately brutal. The milkmaids, who looked to be girls no older than 12, were ruthlessly working the big, soft adult breasts that hung down in front of them. These little girls were yanking, squeezing and twisting the mostly white teats as if they were inanimate, unfeeling objects. The prisoners' weeping, yelping, curling toes and tearful pleas for mercy left no doubt as to the harshness of the process.
The tears, groans of agony, and pleas of these women had no effect on these stone-faced little milkmaids. Their eyes were focused on what was coming out of the slaves' nipples. Their ears were listing for the squirt of milk. And when the milk stopped, they savagely twisted the teats and checked the nipples for any remaining drops. Then they twisted the teats even harder and checked the nipples again. They repeated this process until they were quite sure no milk was left. Only then would they allow their human "cow" to stagger to her feet and make way for the next woman.
The naked women waiting in line for empty stalls wore expressions of painful but helpless anticipation of the agony to come. There was no escape from the daily grind of the Diary.
Each day from dawn to dusk, MBAs, CPAs, attorneys, debutantes, heiresses, and celebrities groaned out their milk in these stalls. At one time or the other, all had futilely begged the peasant girls from Southeast Asia to show them a little mercy. It never worked. Many of the milkmaids didn't even understand English. Thus, the "cow" and her milkmaid were like ships passing in the night. The cow begged the "Little Mistress" to ease up. The milkmaid was focused on output.
With a smirk, Eun commented, "No, ladies, your eyes aren't deceiving you. Those girls sitting on the stools working the teats are young but tough. They'll milk you like the cows you are. And trust me on this. They'll damn near wring your slutty udders off your chests to ensure you fill your quota. They'll milk your husband-stealing titty bags until they ache!"
The new prisoners were ashen faced at this spectacle of female degradation and torment. They could see how the term "Home-wrecker Hades" aptly fit this prison. The Penal Dairy had reduced its beautiful inmates to the nadir of shame.
Eun looked at Clarissa Hanes, who had turned her eyes away from the sight. The Korean girl roughly pushed the actress's face back towards the scene, snapping. "Get used to the milking stalls, Hanes. You'd better use your time wisely to study the proper posture for a milk cow, because they'll soon be pulling hard on your big white titty bags."
The Korean girl smiled devilishly. "And now that you're here, we just may invite some of the Bangkok street urchins you complained about for a visit. If we do, remind me to have you milked extra hard for them. I think you owe those poor, undernourished kids an apology in the form of some gourmet Clarissa Hanes Tit Butter on their morning toast."
Clarissa, who was accustomed to receiving $3 million per film, was nearly dizzy with humiliation at the thought of being milked like a piece of dumb livestock, with her "value" reduced to how much cream could be drawn from her breasts.
The Korean matron's eyes then swung to Aiko Yoshina. The Japanese girl was red-faced and looking down at her chained feet. Her ruby red lips were trembling with distress.
Eun forced Aiko's chin up and taunted, "And you'd also damn well better get used to it, Japanese girl. I'll see to it that they work your pretty tit bags overtime! And you'd be wise to squirt a river of cream for us! I plan to stack your tit cheese extra high for your sins. It will be a tribute to all Korean and Chinese adoptees!"
Aiko blushed deeply at Eun's oblique reference to the two orphans.
Aiko was deeply worried to see the large contingent of apparently non-Japanese Asian girls doing the milking. As an undergraduate history major, Aiko was well aware of the lingering resentment throughout Asia at Japanese depredations during the wars of the previous century. Memories were still raw, particularly in Korea, China and the Philippines. Aiko could see how the Asian milkmaids, many of them obviously pre-teens, practically wrenched the teats of the white women. Aiko wondered how these girls would treat her breasts once they knew of her national origin and of the two adoptees impacted by her home-wrecking.
The new prisoners were even more petrified to see the tit-less slaves laboring at the butter churns. Clarissa and her fellow prisoners swallowed hard when Eun warned, "Yep, you see it correctly, ladies. We cut their udders off for their impudence. And you could lose your big hangers, too, if you forget your manners here. Ladies, your behavior in front of the Kelly kids will determine if you should be so lucky as to have tits to milk before this day is out!"
Out of the corner of her eye, Clarissa Hanes saw a familiar face in a nearby milking stall. It was Erin Brio, the willowy, jet-setting supermodel. The 22-year old blond beauty was nude and wincing with pain. Though Erin was 6 feet tall, her breasts were relatively small as was typical of runway models. But what breasts Lauren possessed were getting a workout. A tiny but determined little Indonesian girl was wringing her pale American teats like dishrags. As the 11-year old's small but strong fingers twisted and squeezed out each jet of Erin's milk, the supermodel curled the slender toes of her size 9 feet in agony. Erin grunted with pain at each twist of her breasts. She was clearly suffering over the ferocity of the little girl's work.
Clarissa also noticed that Erin's vaginal area was completely hairless. She correctly suspected the model had been plucked to help supply Eun with another rope. Clarissa could only imagine the agony Erin must have endured when her pubic hairs were yanked out one by one.
Clarissa was horrified to realize such a world-class beauty could be treated so severely. The Jakarta peasant child was handling the naked American celebrity as if she was some tough-uddered water buffalo.
As a public person accustomed to the "fish bowl", Clarissa wondered if the little milkmaid had written her Jakarta family about her exploits with the $5000 per hour supermodel. She wondered how the child could resist telling them such a titillating fact. That led Clarissa to wonder, morbidly, if some Bangkok waif would soon be writing home about milking her, the famous American actress who had offended their nation.
Of course, Erin Brio was too consumed by the agony of her milking to either notice Clarissa, ponder the previous day's denuding of her pubic hair, or worry about milkmaids writing boastful letters home. In any case, Erin was used to the milkmaids writing their overseas families. They had even enclosed photos of themselves at work on the supermodel's breasts. As much as her teats hurt, Erin was forced to smile for such photos. (All celebrities in the Penal Dairy had become used to cooperating with embarrassing "trophy-photo" sessions. It was their special burden. Children clamored for such pictures. And their mothers felt cheated if their tots didn't get at least one set during each visit to the Dairy.)
The supermodel was simply praying for her breasts to go dry. She lived for the moment the dark-skinned little girl would be satisfied that her "big white cow" had maxed out. If a trophy-photo session would interrupt Erin's agony, the model would gladly pose in any fashion for the Jakarta child. Anything to bring an end to the milking.
Eun suddenly walked over the Erin, grabbed her hair and yanked her head up. The little Indonesian girl continued to milk the supermodel as Eun taunted, "Look at you, the naked cover girl, boo-hooing over your aching milk bags. You should have thought of this before you set your eye on another model's husband!"
Eun bent over to examine one of Erin's feet. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she said, "And I see you still have a that corn on your left pinkie toe. You'd better grind that insulting knob down to nothing, woman, or I'll dance on it with the spikes of my boots!"
Erin, at her wits end over the ravages of her Toe Jammers, gasped, "Yes Mistress." Since arriving at the Dairy the previous week, she had been inundated with demands for trophy photos, leaving her barely enough time to sleep, much less time to groom her feet. While the other slaves were in the Grooming Center pumicing away their calluses, Erin was busy posing every which way for some visiting mother's little darlings. That morning, she had completed a 2-hour photo session for a tiny Asian American girl who wanted photos of herself holding up Erin's bare size-9 soles and also tickling them. The child's mother made Erin do countless shots because she wanted the supermodel's feet and toes captured in the variety of positions desired by her 5-year old.
As the child grew bolder, she proved maddeningly fickle in her demands. When Erin completed one pose, the little girl thought of another. Erin blushed to realize the tot was reveling in bossing her, the famous white lady with the big bare feet. And the mother was thoroughly enjoying her daughter's antics with the supermodel.
The mother had even insisted on retakes of several shots. In one case, she said Erin's smile wasn't "natural" enough. Given that the woman insisted on Erin being totally naked for the photo session, the supermodel struggled to meet this requirement. Realizing the lens was capturing her genitals and breasts as well as her soles, Erin had to fight to drive the red out of her cheeks and suppress the embarrassed quivering of her lips.
In another case, the mother wanted Erin's big toes positioned "differently" for her little girl. The supermodel endured several retakes in her effort to fathom exactly what the woman meant by that.
Other shots had to be retaken because Erin's corn had slipped into the picture.
Many of Erin's tickling shots also had to be redone, because the mother said the model needed to appear "more tickled" in her facial expressions. She wanted her tiny daughter to look like a "giant killer" with her feather, driving the big, beautiful white superstar to the "edge" of insanity. Although Erin felt the woman's child was quite effective as a tickler, she added extra emotion to her reactions until the mother was satisfied her little girl appeared "lethal" with her feather.
Eun finally led the group past Erin and down one of the lanes between the milking stalls.
As the shackled women were pulled along, they noticed something unusual about the vulvas peeking out between the milked women's thighs. The slaves' vaginas (half of which looked stripped of pubic hair) were moist and loose. In a nearby lane, a young girl was walking along, lazily swinging a small flogger against each vulva. The thin straps struck the women's genitals with a wet smack.
Eun said, "In case you're wondering, ladies, that whip is not for punishment. It's for stimulation. A good lash to your pussies will keep your milk ducts loose. To put it in the Asian way, it's the yin and yang of the Penal Dairy. There's pleasure at one end and pain at the other."
The rhythmic smack of the flogger on the cows' wet vulvas reminded the new prisoners of the nearly imperceptible tingling and abnormal moistness recently afflicting their own vaginal areas. The last five nights of the Tribunal, Clarissa Hanes wanted to masturbate when the lights were turned off. Jessica Stanwick and Aiko Yoshina had felt a similar urges. The women's peculiar impulses to pleasure themselves had come in the wee hours, when the stressful memory of the Tribunal day had subsided. But they dared not try such a thing. The matrons who patrolled the halls of the Tribunal Dormitory made it very clear that a defendant "diddling" herself would be considered "in contempt of court."
But when the defendants went to sleep, they were teased by bizarre dreams. Clarissa once dreamed of Mary Lou Stocker making her ride an impossibly huge dildo in the middle of a public Bangkok park. In spite of the giggling onlookers, the actress found herself eagerly humping the big shaft for all she was worth.
One night, Jessica dreamed of Trish Kelly fisting her in front of her coffee club girlfriends. In the dream, she watched with glazed eyes as Trish's hand worked its way inside her sopping opening. In spite of the women's sarcastic comments about her "lawyer's whore hole", Jessica found herself hoping they would also give it a try.
Aiko Yoshina repeatedly dreamed of Soon-Yi's mother making her strip naked and masturbate in a Seoul shopping mall. In the dream, Aiko squatted and feverishly fingered herself as a smirking crowd looked on. The more the onlookers taunted her, the faster she worked her fingers.
The women awoke from these dreams with sopping vaginas and fears they might be going insane. None of the defendants had ever been interested in "S&M", so they were both bewildered and ashamed at how moist these shocking dreams had left them.
The women now correctly suspected the lactation pill had something to do with the dreams and the increasingly randy state of their genitals. In addition to its milk-generating qualities, the pill was indeed a potent aphrodisiac.
As Jessica walked along with the coffle, she soon saw a sight that had her doing a double-take. It was Kaitlyn Conover, the Newport heiress and Jessica's former sorority sister.
Jessica never imagined she'd see Kaitlyn like this. The blue-eyed, raven-haired beauty had been the epitome of wealthy, immaculately groomed blue-blood WASP insouciance. Now Kaitlyn was totally nude and on her knees before an empty milking stall. Her hands were clasped behind her head. She had heavy clamps on her milk-gorged breasts. Her pubic hair was an unruly bush growing halfway up to her navel. The hair of her head looked as if it had been mussed out of its coiffure. Her mascara was smeared. Her lips were trembling with humiliation. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and bloodshot.
Standing before Kaitlyn was a pretty Hispanic woman holding an infant. Sitting in front of the nude Kaitlin was a little girl no older than four. She was holding a pair of large wooden spoons and studying the heiress's out-of-control bush.
Jessica knew Kaitlin had been arrested for flirting with a hunky horse trainer hired by her family. He was the husband of her family's pregnant Hispanic housekeeper.
In fact, a number of Kaitlyn's wealthy girlfriends had flirted with the man. Although nothing had come of the flirtations, the experience had given the trainer notions of leaving his pregnant wife and marrying into that wealthy WASP society.
Paz, the housekeeper, was a recent immigrant from Nicaragua with a strong jealous streak. She blamed the rich white girls, especially Kaitlyn, for her husband's straying. Due to Paz's complaint, Kaitlyn and all of her country-club girlfriends were arrested for home-wrecking, sent to the Tribunal, and quickly convicted on all charges. They had arrived at the Penal Dairy two weeks prior to Jessica. Due to Kaitlyn's prominence in social circles, the whole affair had received considerable press.
Jessica sensed the Hispanic woman was Paz and the little girl was her daughter. The child had similar features and was just as pretty.
Although Jessica couldn't imagine the purpose of the spoons, she sensed they weren't good news for her sorority sister.
Eun said, "You'll dread the milking but you'll also need to have it done, because the lactation never stops. Your bags will ache like sin and keep you awake all night if they aren't drained often."
Eun then paused the procession and pointed to Kaitlyn. "Take for example that slave kneeling over there. She's the mighty Kaitlin Conover, the flirty heiress you may have read about. Now Princess Tease is awaiting the privilege of having her milk yanked out of her teats for the new baby of her family's former housekeeper. Kaitlyn's breasts haven't been touched since her arrival here. We've been keeping her on ice in the baby's honor."
Jessica could see the bags under Kaitlyn's eyes and her occasional longing glances at the empty stall. Nearby stood a young Laotian milkmaid. The girl eyed Kaitlyn's size 34C breasts sternly. She seemed eager to take them on.
Jessica thought Kaitlyn must be desperate to be milked indeed if the result was submitting to that child's hands.
Eun walked over to Paz. The two women hugged. After cooing briefly at Paz's baby, Eun stepped over to where Kaitlyn was kneeling. She said, "Now let's have a look at your milk bags to see how they're coming."
She lifted one of Kaitlyn's clamped breasts and examined it.
Kaitlyn winced at the matron's touch. Her breasts had reached the point where any handling was painful. Despite all the groans and weeping from the nearby stalls, the pretty heiress couldn't imagine anything worse than spending another night with her breasts in this state. She prayed for the milking stall, regardless of the ordeal it would entail.
Eun looked at Paz and said, "Excuse the pun, but I think Miss Conover is quite full of herself right about now. Yep, I think her C-cups runneth over."
Paz giggled, "She seems so. The senorita's tits look much bigger than when I saw her at her mansion. You've made her udders very full by denying her. Thank you."
Eun continued, "No problem. But, as I understand your wishes Paz, this young lady's still got a ways to go before earning any relief."
Paz nodded. "True. This slutty senorita has quite a ways to go. My Pepita would like to spank Miss Conover's big white knockers in the name of her new baby brother Tito. It's a fitting way to prepare the rich gringa's teats to serve my infant."
Kaitlin suddenly looked down at the little girl's spoons with a sense of horror. She never imagined such an innocent looking tot could harbor such violent notions.
Eun turned to Kaitlyn and said, "Miss Conover, you trifled with Mrs. Ortega's husband. Now Mrs. Ortega's daughter will trifle with your aching udders to prime them for milking."
Jessica watched as Paz leaned over to reassure her little girl. "Go ahead, Pepita. You can start now. Spank her big gringa hangers as long as you wish. Hitting her titties will make her milk so much sweeter for our little Tito."
Jessica watched in horror as the little girl suddenly raised the spoons and smacked the sides of Kaitlyn's pendulous breasts.
Kaitlin gasped and arched her back. At the same time, she curled her toes until her cotton-white soles wrinkled like washboards. Her face was now contorted with pain. She was struggling mightily to avoid crying out. Nonetheless, she held her pose.
Kaitlyn's reaction startled Pepita. The little girl stopped and looked up at her nude target.
Paz whispered to her daughter, "Don't mind the white lady's twitching, Pepita. Just keep hitting her big boobies. And don't forget to spank her on the tips of her udders. It'll give her a king-sized 'ouch' and make her milk extra delicious for your baby brother."
The child raised her spoons and began drumming on the ends of Kaitlin's teats.
The blue-eyed beauty arched her back and grunted through tears and clenched teeth. With her mother's coaching, Pepita had homed in on Kaitlyn's sore milk ducts.
As Kaitlyn groaned and flinched, the little girl steadily smacked the spoons on her dangling breasts. Under normal circumstances, the blows would have caused Kaitlyn's milk to squirt. But the clamps served to dam it in. It made the child's drubbing even more excruciating. Kaitlyn now yearned for the milking stall with every fiber of her being.
Jessica and her companions looked on in horrified fascination. The child didn't seem to be hitting Kaitlyn's breasts that hard. Yet, each blow seemed to elicit a deep belly groan from the heiress. The perils of going unmilked were becoming very apparent.
With Kaitlyn near fainting, Pepita finally complained of tired arms and dropped the spoons.
Paz knelt by her daughter and asked, "Do you want to spank her udders some more after you rest a bit, sweetie?"
Pepita said, "Uh uh."
At that point Tito awoke and started crying. Paz whispered to her daughter, "That's OK, honey. I think your brother is hungry now anyway. I need to fill his bottle soon."
On Paz's signal, the milkmaid pulled the aching Kaitlyn into the milking stall and released her clamps. The heiress began dripping immediately.
The milkmaid firmly grasped the ends of Kaitlyn's teats yanked them down towards the pail. The heiress let out a yelp of pain and curled her toes hard as her milk jetted into the container.
Paz smiled broadly, "Yes, very good. Please keep pulling her tits roughly like that. Do them real hard for my baby, please."
The milkmaid nodded.
Paz and her daughter pulled up small stools to watch the process. Paz turned to Eun and said, "Thanks for everything, Eun."
The Korean girl smiled. "No problem. It's my job."
As the milkmaid's strong little fingers began pumping on the aching Kaitlin, Eun resumed the march down the lane.
There was one more shocker to come.