4/10/2018 1:25:35 PM: For the last two weeks, Master had been leaving the milking machine on x for much longer than normal, though as he was using the machine’s lowest setting, it was always arousing, rather than painful.  Not that she was allowed to come, of course – the rule had been established a while back that she was only permitted to come during or after pain, and even then, only with permission. Master had explained to x that the point was to increase her milk production.  X didn’t particularly see the point of it as she was already producing enough milk as far as she knew.  But then one evening, as she was waiting to be milked, Master told her that he wasn’t going to milk her that night.  She was puzzled, but didn’t think anything more of it. Next morning, her breasts felt sore and full – and when Master slapped them casually, as he liked doing, it felt almost like getting shocked.  But still he didn’t milk them.  Over the course of the day, they got progressively more painful and swollen, and by the evening, she was beginning to weep from the discomfort – and she cried outright when he slapped them.  Master then, as x knew he would, slapped her face for being a silly girl. That night she couldn’t sleep - the pain from her unmilked breasts was too much.  She knew she couldn’t ask Master to milk her so all she could do was suffer in silence.  Worse was to follow next morning, when Master, after slapping her breasts hard a few times – which almost made her wet herself, told her to put a white spandex top she knew was already too tight.  And then he instructed her to make herself up like a slut.  That meant they were going out.  She managed to apply too much make-up just as Master wanted, but every time her arms brushed against her breasts she ged with pain.  When she’d finished with makeup, she put on leather hot pants and her highest heeled boots.  When she walked downstairs, Master nodded approvingly – and that approval brought a quick feeling of warmth to x.  Then Master said, “look in the mirror in the hall”.  X was surprised – didn’t she look as he wanted?  But of course she went and looked and understood.  She didn’t have nipple shields and with the white fabric it was clear that she was leaking. They ate at a local restaurant, and Master made a point of asking for a table near the front, so everyone could see x – and her leaking.  Her breasts were now unbelievably painful but she had learned enough to hold it in and not say anything – though she couldn’t help occasionally letting a g escape.  Master didn’t seem to mind.  In fact, he smiled when she did. They came back home, and x was hoping that Master would now milk her – she didn’t know how much more she could take. Instead, Master ordered her down to the basement and told her to strip.  He then tied her down to the table on her back, legs spread wide open, and then went back up. The next two hours were almost unendurable.  X dared not make any sounds as the basement was wired and Master would hear any sounds she made.  Finally she heard the footsteps she was hoping for and dreading. Master looked down at her and said, “now you can ask”.  “Please milk me, sir”, x said, in a small voice. And then as she realized what she said, she hurriedly said, “it’s sorry, sir, please milk your cow.”  Master said, “louder.  Much louder.”   “Please milk your cow, sir!”  Master said, “I will, but you will be punished for incorrect speech.”  X had forgotten that when she was being treated as a hucow she couldn’t say, “I” or “me”.   X started to cry.  Master wheeled the table over to the milking area and attached x’s breasts to the machine.  As x expected he used the highest setting, and the relief that came from being milked was offset by the pain in her nipples from the power of the pump.  X continued to cry, but managed to avoid screaming (a lesson that had taken her a long time to learn).  Eventually – long after all her milk had been sucked out – Master turned the machine off and moved the table back to the center of the room.  X dreaded what was coming next.  She was relieved when Master gagged her because she knew she would otherwise scream out loud.  Her breasts were now incredibly sore and sensitive, so  when Master used his longest cane on her breasts, the pain was intense and she couldn’t control herself; but the gag did its work.  When Master stopped, x was barely conscious.  He ungagged her and then applied a vibrator to her pussy.  Almost immediately, her body started responding even as part of her conscious mind didn’t want to.  But she had little control over her physical response by now.  All she had to do now was wait and let a blissful and intense orgasm roll over her – except that Master now put a hairbrush inside her cunt, a cruel device for two reasons.  First, it was in any event painful, but second, as her vaginal muscles started contracting on her way to coming, the bristles would make her vagina too painful so her orgasm would retreat.  Then she’d respond again and the cycle would continue – her body always responding but then getting denied. Master finally removed the hairbrush.   He turned around and addressed the silent observers who had come down to the basement with him earlier.  “Thank you all for being here and being such an excellent audience.  One last thing.” This was not the first time that x had been used with a group watching, and she had accepted it, humiliating thought it was – the pain had always been worse than the still serious humiliation.   But she had no idea what was next. Master unstrapped her from the table, and told her to lie on her back on the floor and spread her legs so all the observers could watch.  She did so.  “I know you want to come.  Now play with yourself until you do”.  Everybody crowded round for a close look.  This was more humiliating than anything she’d previously experienced.  She was almost surprised she came so easily and deeply.  Master wasn’t surprised, of course.            

1/8/2018 10:28:48 AM: THE PRESENT“I have a present for you” Master said to x.  X nodded and smiled – she couldn’t say “thank you” as she was currently not allowed to say anything, not even in response to a question (part of a punishment from yesterday).  “It’s in the den”.  He unlocked the chain that attached her collar to a pillar in the basement.  X  slowly walked up the stairs – nowadays, walking quickly was an impossibility.  Her corset was too tight, her breasts too large and her heels too high for anything but the slowest movement.  This didn’t stop Master from caning her butt whenever he thought she was moving too slowly – which he did now.  X gritted her teeth but didn’t utter a sound.  The last time she’d made a sound from such a caning, Master had put her on a water-only diet for a day, then hung her upside down and applied a tawse to her pussy until he was satisfied. X walked into the den and saw a large box marked “Custom Fashion Inc.” on the coffee table.  She’d not heard of the company, but that didn’t matter.  Master had always found interesting sources for his equipment or her attire.  She turned and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you may open it,” Master said.  X got down on her knees – not easy in her boots – and opened it.  She was mystified.  It seemed to be some kind of corset but with other straps and fabric things attached that she couldn’t make head or tail of.  She held it up to Master, as if to say, “how do I put this on?” He took it from her and then said “stand up”.  She stood up with difficulty.  “Take off your corset”.  X reached around, untied and loosened the laces, then unhooked the corset.  As usual there was a combination of pain as her body adapted, and pleasure as she could breathe more deeply than she was now used to. “Good.  Now put your hands over your head,” Master said.  She did so immediately.  He began to put the corset thing around her, adjusting the lacing and other straps.  She noticed that there seemed to be odd straps on the top of the corset front.  Master continued to tighten the corset lacing, and to her concern and discomfort she found that it was tighter than the corset she had just taken off.  She began to pant quickly, like a dog after a run.  This was partly to get air in, so she wouldn’t be light-headed – she’d once fainted after an early experience in tight-lacing and when she recovered, found herself on a wooden horse in the basement.  It was also because that way the tightness didn’t hurt as much, though she knew that Master liked it when it hurt.  But he didn’t seem to mind. He finished lacing the corset and then started with other straps which, after he’d told her to move her arms behind her back, had the effect of pulling back her shoulders.  She knew that would make her breasts more pronounced, “as though they could be any more pronounced,” she thought to herself. Master then started on another set of straps on the front of the corset, and x found her breasts being gradually pushed up.  It began to be uncomfortable and then painful, but that was nothing compared to her realization that her breasts were being forced up so high that she couldn’t even see in front of her.  She was used to not seeing down past her breasts but this was very different.  It was almost like wearing a blindfold, but worse – because of the pain of the new position and because of the feeling of humiliation – she knew that, presented like this, she would look like a body with no head, just giant breasts with conspicuous upward-pointed nipples. Eventually Master finished.  “Walk forward”.  X began to walk forward, hesitant as she simply couldn’t see what was in front of her.  He turned her around and directed her out of the den.  She kept walking, slowly, and he nudged her whenever she was walking in the wrong direction.  She found herself on the stairs down to the basement.  She walked down easily, as she now had a rail for guidance, and waited at the bottom.  “Now over to the milking area”, Master told her.  By this time x was beginning to cry from the whole experience – the pain, the tightness of the corset, the feeling of just being breast, not a person.  She knew her way safely and stood there.  Master secured her arms to posts and then placed the milking machine cups over her nipples and started it.  Tonight he’d used the more powerful pump and it was all x could do to stop from making a noise. Master said, “You look particularly appealing like this.  How do you like your present? You can speak.”   X knew what was expected.  “It likes its present. It is grateful.” X knew that when Master was particularly aroused, he could be very brutal to her, and so it was.  He’d let her scream, and after he’d finished with her he’d even let her come, for the first time in weeks, though coming in this new device was agonizing because of how her body was compressed by the corset.  X knew that the old x would never have liked the present, but the new x while not liking it in any vanilla sense, could truly say she was grateful.  She just hoped that Master would lower her breasts before bedtime.  Of course, he didn’t.