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Chapter 1: The Machine
Ginny stood before the gleaming machinery, staring at the brightly polished surfaces lit up under the overhead spotlights. She pulsed with apprehension and her body buzzed with excitement. She was floating and could not have felt more alive even had she been directly connected to the power grid, flashes of arousal arcing across her nerve endings. Ginny stood barefoot in front of this mechanical monster and anticipated the step she was about to take. A step that would set in train an avalanche of sensations threatening to consume her.
Growing up on a dairy farm, Ginny had been surrounded by cattle being herded into the milkshed. The farm had a routine, a pulse that marked the passage of time each day, the seasons through the cycle of the year. It was at this early morning time she would lie in her bed and stroke herself, imagining herself being herded into the milkshed along with the rest of the cattle. To watch with idle curiosity as the milking machine was attached to her, to feel the pull of the suction on her teats. Each morning she would work herself up into a frenzy as these thoughts passed through her head to the accompaniment of the cattle outside. She loved her boyfriend and each time afterwards she would feel guilty. Guilty for feeling such pleasure from such a demeaning fantasy, guilty because when she had sex with her boyfriend it never felt as intense and always left her hungry and guilty because she ought to feel more aroused by her boyfriend than a milking machine. There was something sick about her and she wished these feelings would go away, that she could be more normal.
Ginny had never told Ben of her secret fantasy, she had never dared tell anyone of those dark thoughts she had of standing naked among the beasts, being pushed around by them as they waited for milking and then being herded into the cowshed to be hooked up herself. Yet all these forgotten desires had come flooding back to her when her husband had told her the purpose of the machine he had been building down in the basement. It was Ben’s big idea and would be their ticket to riches. He hadn’t spoken about exactly what he was doing, and Ginny had never thought to ask. She assumed he wasn’t sure about it and would tell her when he was ready. She didn’t really expect to understand it anyway, if she were honest. Then he just walked into the room one day and dropped his bombshell, like Hiroshima going off in her head and she felt the lurch of her heart as the blood pounded in her temples. Her panties instantly became soaked as the old venom of her desires hooked themselves once more into her conscious mind.
Ben failed to notice the effect his words were having upon his wife. He continued talking about the recent changes requiring greater human milk production. Ginny could only sit listening to him in a mounting crescendo of emotions. Of course he was right, now that we knew human milk was the best protection against all kinds of diseases people should drink as much as they could get hold of, that made sense. That also, obviously meant we needed a ready supply of human milk. The inexorable logic drove her unwillingly forward towards that detestable destination, only women could produce human milk. Her heart pounded at the fear he was about to suggest she should contribute, as a woman, to this production.
The new laws had come in just at the wrong time. Women were an essential part of the workforce. They had careers and often out-performed men in many roles. Yet they were constantly being forced to choose between career and family. They would be able to achieve so much more if women did not have to take career breaks to start a family and having to keep worrying about childcare. Then when the news about the benefits of human milk were published a debate quickly started about whether less able women should do the child rearing and produce milk for wider consumption, while the more able ones pursued a career. Of course those women who had careers didn’t want to miss out on having a family. So the debate switched to the less able women becoming surrogate mothers and nannies. Becoming pregnant more often would also boost their milk production. This plan appealed to both men and women who had any power and so was quickly passed into law. Young women would need to pass through psychometric tests to determine whether they were leader or breeder material. Breeders were sent to new style dairy farms where their bodies were prepared for milk production. At these places the breeders were very well cared for as they were schooled for their new role. Revolutionary hormonal feeds would stimulate their mammary glands which would swell as they became engorged with milk. Couples would visit the dairy farms and select one of the milkers, or sows as they became known, for artificial insemination. Career women could slip out one lunchtime, have their eggs collected ready for insemination and continue with work while the breeder carried their child and then nursed it antalya escort after birth.
Ginny remembered feeling sick at the prospect of being classified as a breeder. The fact that she harboured a secret desire to be used in this way just seemed to strengthen her resolve. If she ever were to become a breeder then she would become lost within those seductive chains that would ensnare her. Her greatest fear was of being discovered. She studied extra hard, driven by her need to escape her desire, to protect those unacceptable thoughts from ever being exposed. She had to ensure she would pass this test, and this resolve spurred her on to achieve a lot until finally she came through the tests with honours. She remembered her feelings of triumph on that day the results came out. A wave of relief had washed over her, finally cleansing her from her fear; her secret would remain safely locked away. She had felt a passing pity for those who had failed, as some of her friends had. At the time she definitely viewed them as having failed in life.
Yet it was not long before people started to realise that the sows had a very good life. A lot of fantastic sex as a result of being extremely horny, a bi-product of the hormonal feeds, never having to worry about paying bills, and everything provided for them. It did not take long before the career women wanted to have short breaks as sows, just to escape from all the hard work and responsibility for a while. Short sow holidays were soon arranged, and of course that all added income for the farms. Men soon took advantage of the availability of all these horny women, and before long, sows became hired out for orgiastic parties, and this made the carefree life of a sow still more attractive.
Ben was pacing the room as he talked enthusiastically about all the man effort that went into milking sows. How inefficient it all was, and how milk production could be much higher if they could automate the process. Ginny still hadn’t quite got to where he was headed until he started talking about milking machines for cows could be adapted for humans. That was the point that Ginny’s body had given an involuntary spasm, a mini-orgasm that rippled silently through her. A milking machine designed for the female body! Was that what he had been working on?
“Yes. It’s so simple, which is why we can’t afford to delay. I have been working flat out to get the machine working and now I think I’ve got it!”
Ginny swallowed as she stared up at him. Here, in her own house, her husband had been quietly building the machine that embodied her most disturbing and powerful fantasy. It was right here below the stairs, below where she was sitting, just a few steps away. She immediately felt drawn towards it, to feel the cold touch of steel against her flesh as he continued to describe it. Seemingly, there was to be no escape for Ginny.
Standing there now in the spotlights, the warmth of them radiating upon her back, Ginny faced the gleaming steelwork before her. She was incredibly horny already, and had been continuously unable to pull her mind away from the infernal machine that seemed to call out to her from the basement. It had been a couple of days ago that Ben had taken her down and shown her his marvellous machine. Ginny gawped at it, it was massive, dominating the room. She already felt intimidated just by being in the room with it.
“However did you pay for all this machinery?”
Ben shifted uneasily at this question.
“Ehm… well don’t worry, I got someone else to pay.” He sounded evasive so Ginny turned towards him.
“Well it’s a backer. We are going to share the profits.”
“So who is it? Come on….” She coaxed.
“I… I can’t tell you.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was part of the deal. No one should know who the backer is.”
“But surely that doesn’t include me?”
“I don’t understand.”
“He said no one was to know who the backer was, not even your wife. I’m sorry darling, I’d truly love to tell you. In fact it is quite hard keeping the secret, but he is the money and we can’t afford to lose him. You must understand.”
“Huff. Have it your way, as if I should care.” Ginny turned and walked out, but she did care. She resented the way Ben was keeping something from her, especially as it seemed so unnecessary. She probably wouldn’t have even heard of the jerk, and why would she care? She resented the fact that Ben couldn’t trust her! After all this mysterious backer needn’t know if he told her, if it was so important to him.
That night Ginny slept fitfully, dreaming about producing large jarfuls of sow milk collected in neat rows in their basement; dreaming of her body responding to the demands of this machine, the image of which had been firmly imprinted upon her conscious mind. Since being introduced to it, her mind would drift back again and again to the idea of her tits gradually accumulating milk to feed this serik escort monster, as if this is what had been demanded of her. No matter how ordinary the tasks she went about, or even burying herself in her work, she was somehow always conscious of her body responding tingling with excitement. Her clit jangled as she walked from room to room knowing the hard metal machine was waiting below for her. She dreamed of being drawn away from the light in the house, down, down into the dark. Of descending the stairs into the dark void of the basement; obeying a mysterious call by which this machine had captivated her.
It had taken Ginny a couple of days to think of some way she could get Ben out of the house and preoccupied for a while and allow her time to explore this object of her fascination. She would get no peace until she confronted it, and now here she was, just moments away from finally finding out how it would feel to have those milking tubes attached to her tits, to feel the pulsing vacuum and the insistent draw on her nipples, extending them like little cow teats. Finally she had the privacy to fulfil her fantasy without being exposed. As soon as Ben had told her about the sow-milker machine she had plied him with questions about it, wanting him to describe how it would stimulate the sow, how the milk was to be collected. Ben had been so enthusiastic about his machine that all he could see was his wife sharing his excitement at his invention, which pleased him immensely.
Ginny pulled her top up over her head as she contemplated the heavy machinery glinting with hard malevolence. Her tits bounced free of the stretchy material and swayed in the cool basement air. Her nipples were already extended as they waited for the machine to attach itself to them. Her hand slid under her skirt as she needed relief and she needed it fast. Her heart thumped in her chest. In the privacy of this room, buried in some dark corner of this suburban house, she was at last free to act out every whim of her long held fantasy.
She stepped forward onto the pressure sensitive rubber mat at the end of the machine. She had no idea what would happen next, and that was so much part of the fun. She heard the whir of a motor as she stood motionless, sweaty with the fear of what she was about to let happen to her. She could feel herself becoming very wet as the eternal moments ticked painfully slowly by, as she waited for the machinery to react. Suddenly she felt a jolt just behind her knees. It caught her off balance and she fell forwards. A low angled block in front of her automatically parted her legs as she sunk to her knees under the pressure from behind. A large boom had risen up from behind and pressed into the backs of her legs just above her knees forcing her legs to flex and her knees to bend. She hit the floor of the machine with a thud and groaned at the suddenness of the impact. The pressure behind her, however, was unrelenting and continued to press into her, rising up her legs. Her knees locked into rests on the base that prevented them sliding any further forward. So as the pressure rose up her thighs she was forced to bend forward and her arms sprang out to stop her fall.
As her body tilted under the pressure, Ginny found her arms falling into little channels set on either side of a padded block. The channels were slippery and she could find no purchase from which to push back against the persistent boom driving her onto the machine. Her hands slid along the channel as her body levered forward. At the same time as her tummy landed on a soft cushioned support, her hands slid into separate enclosures at the end of each channel. She felt bands slide around her wrists and pull tight, holding her firm but comfortably. She tried to pull at her hands but the weight of her body was forcing them forward and the ties on her wrists effectively secured her in position. By now the boom had come to a halt half way up her thighs and pressed them into the side of the block that had spread her legs on the way down. Her rump was stuck high up in the air. Her small little skirt did nothing to cover her, and she regretted now removing her panties. They had simply got in the way when she needed access to her clit, and now they lay very visibly on the floor nearby, along with the crumpled remains of her stretch top. Ginny’s tits hung heavily either side of the rest supporting her chest. As her lobes hung pendulously waiting for the attachments, her nipples puckered in preparation.
Ginny lay in the milking position, struggling for breath. It had all happened so fast, and now she was locked in position. She had had no choice after stepping on the pressure pad. The machine had processed her, and now here she was, a sow ready for milking. Ginny was very aware of just how open and inviting her sex was. There was nothing she could do now to protect herself and as the wave of vulnerability swept over her and settled in her stomach, the aroma of her side escort excitement seemed to fill the room humiliating her further. The locking of her hands into position seemed to stir something in the bowels of the machine, for while Ginny no longer had the freedom to turn and look, she was aware of an ominous whir of motors beneath her unprotected body. Slowly at first, Ginny could feel another padded bar start to press against her chest, just below her tits. She was manipulated into position by the bar so that her tits hung down and free, but only for a moment. The cups rose to brush against the sway of her breasts. They coaxed her fleshy lobes until they fell within their rims and then inexorably the machine swallowed them whole. She felt the rubber rim of the cups press into her chest and her udders squash within their confines.
The vacuum built very quickly and her udders were pulled deep into the suction cups. She felt the jerk on her areoles. Then the vacuum seemed to subside and her flesh relaxed back away from the hard steel walls that imprisoned them. No sooner did she feel the relief than the suction increased again and her tits were alternately pulled into the cups and then relaxed, back and forth as the machine massaged her udders. She felt the blood rushing to her tortured flesh as it was rigorously and clinically manipulated to draw her milk. Ginny felt lost in the rhythmic pulsing on her tits. At last she could understand how it felt to be put on a milking machine. How lucky she was to be married to the man who had found a way to adapt cow milkers for humans.
Each time the suction cycle pulled she pressed herself more firmly down into the chest pad, yielding herself more to the machine. She closed her eyes to lose herself more completely in the experiences flooding her. Then she first felt and then acknowledged the whirring sound of more machinery on the move. Her nipples felt the press of something. An arm had risen up inside each of the suction pads and was pushing a small rubber ring onto each of her nipples. The rubber stretched and pulled on her flesh. It hurt, but at the same time the growing interconnection between her body and the machine was making Ginny wetter. She lay helpless feeling the rubber slowly edge its way over the tip of her nipples before cinching in to the sides, forcing them to elongate and align directly with the tubes waiting like open hungry mouths waiting to collect her milk. The machine had stripped her of free will. Her thoughts, her opinions counted for nothing, she was nothing, just a milk producing animal like the cows on her father’s farm. The suction on her teats did not relent, sending ripples of pleasure through her body. She had no milk to offer, but just being on the machine, in its grip, drove away all her ability to formulate thoughts or use language. She grunted under the thrust of the machine, like the pig that she had now become.
Ginny never stopped to consider whether the machine would stop automatically. Would it release her? She suddenly felt the panic force its way up from her stomach that churned in turmoil, along the full length of her throat and take a choking grip on her throat. Was she trapped here forever? After a while, however, the suction cycle ceased and she lay there. The cups remained fixed to her breasts and the rings persisted to torture her teats. She imagined the sow lying still, eyes closed and milk dripping slowly from its udders into the collection tubes, waiting for its master to let her off the machine and be led away to rest. Lying waiting to see whether master would be pleased with the milk it had produced.
Time passed and Ginny felt pins and needles, but she could not free herself and so was forced to wait. She lay there wondering how she could explain this to Ben when he turned up wondering where she was. When she heard him moving around upstairs and calling her name, she felt too embarrassed to call out. She wanted to hide from him, but inevitably he would find his way downstairs and release her.
“My God, Ginny! What happened here? Are you all right?”
Ginny just looked up at his face, full of concern. She felt so humiliated that she had actually wanted this. How stupid she was to have succumbed to her shameful desires, which had resulted in her being left locked like a sow in a milking stall until Ben returned to let her out. She felt her pussy become very wet by his presence and her humiliation.
“I…I just wanted to see your machine and how it works.” She sounded very meek as she looked sideways up at her husband towering over her. She felt the grip of the cups on her breasts, distorting and pulling at them. She could feel his hands lying on her back, patting her in his concern.
“But are you ok…?”
“Just my breasts are sore, but otherwise I’m fine.”
She could see the concern fade from his face and a smile appear.
“I’m sure they are. What a pity you have no milk to fill up the vessel. Still let me look.”
He got up and started to walk around her. Ginny felt very much on show, locked into position with her husband taking his time, walking slowly around and looking at her from every angle. He pulled at the bands at her ankles and her back to check how secure they were.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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