And with this realization and acceptance of her new station in life, an orgasm consumes her, her eyes roll out of her head, her jaw slack as nonsensical words escape her lips. She is on a ride of sexual ecstasy releasing lightning flashes of intense heat that ejects violently from her sex.
She is barely conscience, her body pliable. This next training segment will stress her to the max. It is all about self-control. She must willingly hold still and accept anything that he or someone else wishes to do with her body. No jerking away when a particularly harsh cane strike lands on her flesh. No cringing as more weights are applied to the clamps on her nipples and clit and cunt lips. And no moving away as he fucks her ass with his cock and other instruments of torture.
He positions her limp body into a chair and props her breasts on the table’s edge. He connects the leather wrist restraints to cables across the table and pulls the chains tight until she is lifted from the chair and bent at the waist at table’s edge. Her large breasts are smashed into the hard wood surface, and reaching under her, he pulls each tit out to her side.
Moving quickly, he jerks the head of the table and separates the two halves. Her breasts drop through the gap and her chest cavity rests on the edges. In short bursts, he pushes the two sides of the table together until her breasts are pinched tightly between the two edges.
It has been his fantasy to have a slut with realistic udders. It takes time and is a painful process, but the female breast can be successfully reshaped without surgery. Udders with long thick nipples protruding from cone shaped areolas; dark areolas that span four or five inches in circumference. That’s his goal for her. Udders.
Working under the table, he connects the tubes and wires and engages the pump. Slowly, he places the large cow teat cups near the tip of her nipples, and wham, two thirds of her breast tissue is sucked violently into each tube. Her body lurches above on the table, but she is helpless to stop him. Fascinated, he watches as the tubes pull and release with impressive suction power. Her tissue is crammed into the teat cup and her nipples are pulled nearly to the tip of the eight inch tube. It looks like her entire chest cavity is being sucked into the powerful machine.
Soft moans vibrate into the table top above him as the pumps pull her breasts downward and squeeze the tips into the cylinders. Every intake of suction lengthens her nipples a tiny bit more, and as they swell, spread wider, thicker; nearly the circumference of a dime.
He slaps the dangling tits, impressed that the teat cups hold steady even as her breasts collide and separate, swinging to and fro as he smacks them like punching bags. Harder, his large hands slap at the swaying mounds matching the rhythm of the milking machine. Smacks, violent full-hand smacks, he admires the rapidly reddening skin from his unrelenting smacks.
The swollen breasts hang heavily between the table halves, pulled downward by the milking machine and gravity. Fully tenderized on the outside, it’s time to stimulate the milk sacs inside. He gathers one entire breast into his two hands and twists it like wringing water from a towel. Winding it tighter, the skin rippling and her cries of pain encouraging him to twist the entire breast into a tight cone, and still the teat cup retains its hold on her nipple.
When he releases the tit, her flesh unwinds and shakes violently; dark finger bruises and angry-red creases mark the pale flesh. He repeats on her other breast, then back and forth, twisting, squeezing, slapping, compressing, the pain in her chest is intense, overwhelming. If only he would do something else, give her breasts a break. They hurt a deep penetrating pain.
But he continues. His obsession with cow teats is his only mission for the next few hours. And when he finishes, disconnects the tubes, and releases her tits from the table-vice, she cries at the sight of what he has done to her lovely breasts.
He admires the roadmap of finger bruises and bright red stripes, and is particularly intrigued with her blackish-red plum-shaped nipples. He pinches them, compressing them between his fingertips, and she holds perfectly still but her facial expressions speak volumes.
She did well for two hours of breast torture. His cock jerks in his slacks in anticipation of her next torture.
Spread wide and secured to the cross, he begins her next torture. Sucking deeply on each tit, she sharply inhales, holding herself steady even as he renews the pain in her breasts. His hand slips down between the V of her legs and finds her dripping. Her clit is a hard nub, but he likes it larger, more prominent and raw.
Toying with her clit, he thumps it, pinches it, and rolls it between his fingertips, all the while gorging on her luscious breasts. Juices coat his hand and he feeds his fingers to lick clean then kisses her deeply, sliding his tongue down her throat. Breaking away, he works quietly at a bench against the far wall, leaving her body dripping with lust and bound tightly to the cross.
Her agitation increases as time passes and he ignores her. Random thoughts flit through her mind. What is he doing over there? What is taking him so long? I’m on fire and have to be fucked. Unable to contain herself, she calls out to him.
“Please fuck me. Sir, Master, I need to be fucked hard, please fuck me, fuck me and make it hurt, please just fuck me.”
He smiles, takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. She continues to assail him with insults, not realizing that she is using “fighting words”, words that have consequences, painful consequences. She has no idea how much pain he can cause her, pain so intense that she will lose consciousness, and when she comes to, the pain will be worse than before.
“What’s wrong with you, aren’t you supposed to be my Master? Act like one and fuck me. Don’t just leave me hanging here you sick son of a bitch.”
Another long sigh as he evaluates his options. Unfortunately, she has yet to learn who serves whom. He could give a rat’s ass if she gets what she wants, her needs do not matter to him. What matters is his pleasure, his needs, and she must learn to put him first and foremost in her mind.
She should be begging to suck him, fuck him, and serve him. Instead, the self-centered bitch is demanding that he please her. He makes a decision. He is going to introduce her to clit torture, torture so severe that the last thing on her mind will be an orgasm. He will make sure that her clit will hurt with just the thought of arousal for days after he finishes.
Starting slowly, deciding on layers of different types of pain as the best approach, he swings the split leather slapper upwards and slams into her crotch. Her cunt lips protectively fold over her clit. Slapping upwards three fast hard strokes, her cunt lips begin to redden, tiny blue veins become visible under the taunt flesh.
Five vicious upward swings, direct hits all of them, the brittle leather tips of the clapper slice her cunt lips apart and her clit pops out, totally exposed. He pinches it, rolls it between his fingertips, tugs on it, and then smashes it back into her body with handle of the slapper.