Billion Dollar MilkmaidBy: Simone Holloway
“Do you understand the terms of the contract?”
Mr. King sat across from her at a desk. His deep green eyes cut through her with an air of severity that made her squirm. He was intense, serious, methodical, and now, he was her new benefactor.
All of this began with a quirk of science; a rare condition that enabled her to pump milk from her brea**sts continuously. Amy had never had a baby and was often at pains to explain the embarrassing condition to friends and lovers when she had an accident.
An accident, in this case, being leakage. Her brea**sts would become swollen and heavy with milk and on occasion leak. This led to many awkward moments throughout Amy’s life. But, her meeting with Mr. King wasn’t about the bad times; it was about the good times to come.
She was first introduced to Mr. King through a website. Amy came across a posting on a message board for people with her condition. It was a story from a fellow sufferer about a wealthy man with a fetish for breast feeding. He paid top dollar for the pleasure and was looking for new girls.
Amy worked as a secretary. Her job made her miserable. Her boss treated her like a slave, the pay was awful, and there was no hope for advancement. She was drowning in debt and all alone.
Amy had been on several dates in the past year, but her insecurity about her condition always held her back. To come across this internet posting felt like a godsend.
She could pay off her debt, maybe even quit her job. In truth, it wasn’t just about the money for Amy. She craved attention. She didn’t want to be looked at as a freak; she wanted to be desired.
Amy made contact with the original poster and was given Mr. King’s phone number. They hastily arranged a meeting at his downtown office.
As Amy entered the busy building she wondered if the people who worked there knew the kind of business their boss was conducting. She smiled to herself as she rode the elevator to the top floor.
Mr. King invited her into his office immediately. Amy was struck by how handsome he was. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but Mr. King was perfect. He had a strong jaw, high cheek bones, intense eyes, a muscular athletic body. It was too good to be true.
Mr. King shook her hand and eyed her double D brea**sts appreciatively. When he released her hand, he rubbed his face. His fingers lingered over his lips, in an unconscious gesture of desire. He was momentarily seized by a craving Amy didn’t understand. She stood silently, shifting her feet and waiting for him to speak.
“Forgive me,” he said, “please have a seat.”
They hashed out the details of the arrangement. Twenty thousand dollars a session. A session would consist of Mr. King breast feeding directly from her as well as additional sexual, “stimulations,” as the contract called it.
He also asked that she pump her brea**sts and send him the milk, from time to time. These additional services would be met with additional fees.
All in all, Amy would make more money in one session then she did in a year. She could only stare at him in disbelief as he matter-of-factly ran through the contract.
“Do you understand the terms of the contract?” he repeated himself. Amy had zoned out. She was in awe of the opportunity.
She nodded and replied weakly, “Yes.”
“Good. Now, before we sign, I’ll need to examine your breasts. Test the merchandise, so to speak.”
Amy raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t anticipated starting so quickly. She stood in front of him and began to unbutton her top. He watched her with a clinical eye. Amy removed her top and cleared her throat. “I’m ready,” she said.
Mr. King rose from his seat and approached calmly. His eyes were trained on her breasts. “Remove your bra,” he instructed.
“Would you like to do it?” Amy hoped he would say yes. If he touched her, it might make it easier, she thought. She felt extremely attracted to him.
“No,” he replied. “This is just a cursory exam.”
Amy smiled as if she understood, then reached behind her and unhooked her bra. She let it fall to the floor unceremoniously.
Mr. King’s chin rested in his hand. His thumb ran over his mouth.
Her creamy, round brea**sts were on full display. They were firm and plentiful with two large cherry nipp**les that called out for a pair of lips or a tongue, to explore their surface and plunder the sweet milk inside.
Mr. King only stared.
“Would like to touch them?” Amy asked coyly.
For the first time since she’d undressed his eyes met her own. “Would that be a problem?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “Of course not.”
Mr. King hesitated, then reached out timidly. He cupped her breasts, feeling her velvet soft skin. Then, he squeezed gently and ran his thumb over her nipples, the same we had over his lips.
“Does that hurt?” he asked.
Due to the excess of hormones in her body, her nipp**les often did become very sensitive, even raw, but his touch was gentle and soothing. Amy was surprised he cared enough to ask about her comfort. Maybe the arrangement isn’t quite as formal as it seems, she thought.
She shook her head no. “You can taste them if you want.”
Amy stood perfectly still. She had never had a man, or for that matter a child, breast feed from her. She had no idea what it would feel like.
He went down on his knees in front of her like a supplicant. This rich and powerful man was suddenly a beggar at her mercy.
Amy knelt in front of him and stuck out her chest expectantly. The words were unspoken, but in their own way he was asking and she was giving permission to continue.
He moved towards her slowly. His lips curled around her nipple. Amy’s whole body tensed. He ran his tongue over her nipple and she giggled. The tension was too great.
Mr. King pulled away from her and smiled. “Relax.”
Amy took a breath and composed herself. “Go on.”
“I had a taste, that will suffice for now.” He rose and walked behind his desk.
‘A taste,’ Amy thought puzzled. She hadn’t felt anything. She looked down and saw a small drop of milk leaking from her nipple. When sexually stimulated Amy’s brea**sts often began lactating on their own.
“It was very good.”
Amy looked up flustered. “Sorry?”
“The merchandise,” he smiled. It was the wicked grin of a sinful boy, who knows he’s gotten away with a dirty deed. “You may get dressed.”
Embarrassed, Amy realized she was still on her knees. She picked up her shirt and buttoned it quickly.
Mr. King pretended to reread the contract, flipping through papers absentmindedly. In truth, he didn’t want her to feel ashamed or shy, so he took on a professional, disconnected air.
Inside, he was thrilled; not only was she beautiful, but her breast milk was sweet like butter cream. After they spent some time together, he hoped, Amy would be more relaxed and open to the experience. They were all a bit nervous at first. Some quit after a few sessions, but he saw a great potential in Amy. They were going to enjoy this together.
He cleared his throat. “All in order. Are you ready to sign?”
Amy left the office as if floating on a cloud. It had been a surreal afternoon: a strange opportunity, a handsome man, a weirdly erotic encounter, and now her first check.
After they signed the papers Mr. King decided to give her a signing bonus, to the tune of twenty thousand dollars. He’d told her to buy something nice for herself and then it was over. They shook hands, arranged their next meeting and she left.
Amy wasn’t sure where to begin. Should she quit her job? No, too soon, she decided. Instead, she bought a nice dress; a tight black number with a plunging v-neck to highlight her mammoth breasts.
She stood in front of her mirror admiring her body. She ran her hands over her brea**sts and thought of Mr. King: his strong gaze, his soft lips. She felt a connection to him; she wondered if the feeling was mutual.
The doorbell rang. As she walked to the door she took a breath. Best not to get ahead of myself, she thought.
The car ride was short. A chauffeur drove her to a large estate on the outskirts of town. The house was hidden in the woods and couldn’t be seen from the road. Every light in the house was on, making the trees glow. From a distance, Amy thought it looked as if the woods were on fire.
The driver let her out in front of the house and drove off. Amy approached the house cautiously; she suddenly felt nervous. She stopped in front of the door, straightened her dress and raised her hand to knock, when the door flew open. Amy jumped. Mr. King stood in the doorway.
“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He cleared his throat in an attempt to stifle his laughter. He didn’t want to embarrass her. It was their first time together and he could only imagine how awkward this must be for her. “Please, come in.”
Amy walked into the large entryway and stood in awe. The house was like something out of a magazine. “Your home is beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Mr. Kings’ hands were to her shoulders pulling her coat off. They slipped down her arms, gently brushing her skin. Amy felt a slight chill at his touch. “Are you cold? It’s freezing out there.”