Milk Lust

Milk Lust

 

A Novel of Erotic Lactation

Elliot Silvestri

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this work are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

 

Milk Lust

 

Copyright © 2023 Green Bush Publishing

 

First Edition

 

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

 

 

A Green Bush Publishing Book

 

The characters and events portrayed in this work are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Contains adult material that might not be suitable for all audiences. This work is a fantasy; in your own life be sure to follow safer sex practices.

 

All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

 

“Is this going to hurt?”

“It’s going to hurt exactly the way you want it to.” 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

Galatéa nervously took off her clothes. She didn’t want to think about it, but she was in the middle of nowhere in a converted barn, taking off her clothes in front of a complete stranger. Yes, she had taken precautions, but there were a lot of crazy people in the world.

Including herself.

While she was undressing, she wasn’t able to look at the man who had introduced himself as Poz. He was big and burly with forearms that seemed impossibly strong and made her weak in the knees. His dark hair was trimmed short and his beard was slightly longer than the hair on his head. His forearms were covered with black, curly hair. They were tanned as well. He wore a black t-shirt, black jeans, and black boots. There was no doubt where he stood on the fashion scale.

The wooden planks of the barn floor scratched at her feet. She was afraid of getting splinters and it occurred to her that was a stupid thing to be worried about considering what she was going to be doing shortly.

Maybe.

If she didn’t run away.

“You want to be restrained.” It was less of a question and more of a statement. 

Galatéa nodded. In the process of undressing she had pulled free the hair tie that kept her black, curly hair in a neat ponytail. Her long hair now fell down to nearly the tops of her breasts, giving her some measure of protection.

Poz pointed at the floor between two large, heavy, thick upright wooden beams with a variety of iron bolts and hooks driven into the timbers. There was no hiding her body as she walked across the floor to him.

The thick restraints were made of tan leather. That surprised Galatéa because she expected them to be black leather. She knew they were going to be used, but the color struck her as odd. Poz put her arms up and slipped a short chain between one of the bolts in the upright timbers and the wrist cuff. It wasn’t like she couldn’t move, but she was effectively held in position.

Poz did this all silently. He then repeated the process with her ankles, eventually putting her in a vertical spread-eagle position. She felt vulnerable and exposed and she started to like it.

The wide leather collar that went around her neck caused her another thrill of panic.

“This isn’t strictly necessary, but it keeps you in position better,” he explained. A chain connected the collar to a bolt in the horizontal timber above her head. The final touch was to pull back her hair and hold it in a ponytail with a leather thong.

He then pulled from a storage cabinet a circle light mounted to a tripod. The barn gave the atmosphere of being in the 1800s. The cell phone, light, and tripod clearly told her they were still in the 21st century.

“I’m only recording this for you. No one else will see it.”

She nodded as best she was able. This had been negotiated earlier. And still, she wondered if he would make a copy for himself.

Even though she was naked, bound, and alone, Galatéa wasn’t afraid. She realized that the sensation she was feeling was anticipation. 

Then Poz brought out two new items from the cabinet and her legs trembled. She knew what they were for and this was her last opportunity to say no. She watched as he ran some petroleum jelly around the edge of one of the bell-shaped devices. It was made of clear plastic and the cupping edge was covered in soft rubber. The end of the unit had a complex valve that was attached to a hose and manual pump.

Galatéa wasn’t sure if she wasn’t able to speak because of fear or anticipation. 

Poz handled her breast, placing the cupped end of the device over her flesh, assured himself of a good seal, and then operated the pump.

It started off as a little bit of pressure, then some discomfort, and then real pain. Galatéa whined to endure it.

“You can scream,” he said softly to her. “No one will hear you.”

She held out for a few more seconds as he continued to work the pump, increasing the pain and pressure. Her breast filled half the available space of the elongated bell cone. Her nipple was drawn forward and the color changed from its normal soft brown to reddish-purple. 

It was too much and finally Galatéa screamed a little. Poz glanced once at her and saw she was trying to endure the pain. He said nothing and picked up the second device.

Just as he was starting to place it over her other breast, her first nipple started to weep out milk. It was slow at first and then built to a steady stream.

Poz noticed it and stopped.

“Is this what you wanted?”

Galatéa only nodded. She couldn’t talk. The collar and chain she wore made it difficult to move her head. 

“Ready?”

Again she awkwardly nodded.

The second breast pump went on her flesh and he repeated the process.

It hurt. The second time it hurt less. He adjusted the pressure on both pumps and in short order both were producing milk at a steady rate.

Galatéa could feel hot tears slipping down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and focused on the pain.

The pain felt good.

Then she felt Poz’s hand between her legs, cupping her pussy. She gasped, not because he hurt her, but because she hadn’t been touched there by anyone other than her doctor in over a year. 

Her pussy was hot and her amrita was making her slick and ready. Poz’s finger gently pressed inside her. Galatéa wanted to pull away from his touch and at the same time she wanted to rock her hips forward and increase the friction.

“Good girl,” he complimented her. “Your cunt is wet and hot. You need this, don’t you?”

As if it were an instinct, she nodded as best she was able. “Uh-huh…”

Poz gently tugged at her pubic curls. “Next time this needs to be gone.”

She shivered. There was going to be a next time and they weren’t even finished with the first time yet.

“Did you hear me?” he asked sharply.

“Y-y-yes,” she stuttered out.

“You’ve got nice tits,” he continued. “I’m going to drain the milk out of them and make you cum.”

That was exactly what she wanted. That was exactly what she had agreed to.

Frustratingly, Poz took his hand away from her pussy and wiped his wet fingers on her stomach. He paused there for a moment and looked downward. She knew he wasn’t looking at her tits. Was he looking at her pussy…or something else?

After a moment, he stepped away to the cabinet and removed another object, not letting her see what was in his hands. She tried to turn her head and follow him as he circled around behind her. The restraint around her neck prevented her from moving her head as much as she wanted.

“A little pain to test your limits,” he said.

“What? Wait!”

Poz didn’t wait. The sting of the flogger’s leather thongs on her ass were painful. She shrieked at the unexpected pain. She tried to twist out of the way, but bound as she was, that was impossible. 

The sound of the lash against her skin was nearly as painful as the impacts themselves. It wasn’t exactly like the crack of a whip, but the swish through the air and the slap was scary because she couldn’t see it happening. 

“No, no, please!” she begged.

Poz ignored her.

Her tears continued to pour down her cheeks. She let out little shrieks of pain with each slap of the flogger. The pain on her breasts was nearly forgotten now…or was she just going numb?

Eventually he stopped slapping her ass and she let out a little murmur of thanks. Galatéa wasn’t sure if she was thanking him for stopping or thanking him for the thrill of the pain.

“Did you like that, slut?” he suddenly asked her. From behind his body pressed up against hers. His words were hissed in her ear. His arms circled around her body.

“Y-y-yes,” she admitted.

It hurt, but she wanted the pain. 

“Do you want to cum?” His hand slipped down her body, over her stomach and abdomen until he finally cupped her pussy again.

Her breaths were coming short and fast now. When he touched her pussy she realized she was sopping wet. How had that happened so fast?

His middle finger plunged into her pussy and rubbed against her clit. She wanted to make this last but couldn’t. He had barely penetrated her when her entire body trembled and then she was cumming and couldn’t stop.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

The next morning Galatéa’s phone rang and when she saw the caller ID she didn’t want to answer it, but did so out of politeness. She hated herself for that.

“Hello, this is Vicky. Am I speaking with Galatéa?”

“Please call me Téa,” she replied automatically. “How are you today, Vicky?”

“Wonderful, thank you for asking, Téa. I’m just calling back to check in on your session with Poz yesterday. How did it go?”

She almost regretted getting involved with this. It was what she wanted but it was, at the same time, all too much for her.

Even so, she answered, “It was wonderful.” It wasn’t a lie.

“No pressure, but are you interested in scheduling another session with him? He is very popular and scheduling time can be—”

She didn’t even get to say the word “difficult” before Galatéa blurted out, “Yes!” She hated herself for sounding so eager and at the same time she didn’t want to lose the opportunity.

 

“You seem better today, Téa,” said Connie, her therapist.

“I do?” She was genuinely taken aback. Connie’s statement made no sense to her.

“You’re smiling.”

“I am?” She put her hand to her mouth and found that she was indeed smiling and that made no sense—except that she hadn’t felt this good in over a year. 

“Are the drugs finally working?” asked Connie, a small smile hinting at the arguments that Galatéa just needed to give the antidepressants some time to work. She had given the pills months to work…maybe they finally were?

“Maybe?” replied Galatéa. She had just sat down on the very comfortable couch in Connie’s office and realized she wasn’t going to tell Connie everything. She was trading one set of lies for another.

“Maybe? Finally getting some exercise? Eating right?” Connie’s smile was pointed but it was obvious she wanted an actual answer as well.

“I’ve been taking walks with…with Jessie. And I’ve hired that chef to make meals for me…”

“I know I’ve said it before, but you’re really very lucky to be able to afford that and everything else you need.”

“I wish I didn’t have the money. Not the way I got it.”

Connie nodded. “You’re right. Money can’t make up for everything. But when you walked in today it was like you were…well, maybe not glowing. You didn’t look like my pregnant sister, but close. You had an aura about you.”

“I had sex,” Galatéa blurted out and immediately regretted it. She hadn’t intended to say those words and didn’t want to tell her therapist what she had been up to, but there was no way to stuff the words back into her mouth.

To her credit, Connie remained professional. She raised her eyebrows slightly and tilted her head, but she didn’t react like a teenage girl. “That would explain a lot. How did this happen? You haven’t mentioned any man…or woman for that matter.”

“Umm…he was…is an old friend from school. He reached out on Facebook a week ago and asked if there was anything he could do and I just said…take me to dinner because I needed to get out of the house and away from the baby for a couple of hours.” Galatéa was surprised at how easily she spun this lie. “One thing led to another and before I knew it…we were back at his place fu—having sex.” She covered her face, throwing herself fully into the role. “I shouldn’t have done it. It’s too early, isn’t it?”

“When you choose to start dating and having sex again, if that’s what you want, is entirely up to you,” Connie reassured her. “You’ll know when you’re ready…but do you think it was too soon?”

“I think it was the perfect time,” she said too quickly.

“Well, this is good. It’s progress. Progress is different for everyone. As long as you weren’t pressured into it by anyone, including yourself, it’s fine.”

“It’s only been a year, barely a year.”

“When dealing with the loss of a loved one, everyone reacts differently. You have to remember that. You can’t judge your actions against the actions of someone else.”

“I want to do it again,” Galatéa confessed.

“That would be fine.” It was satisfying to know that her therapist was giving her permission to have sex again. Especially the kinky, perverted sex that she had had with Poz. Of course, Connie probably didn’t know exactly what Galatéa had been up to. “If you want to.”

“I want to,” Galatéa blurted. “I’d forgotten what sex was like.”

 

Chapter 3

 

The second time she had no trouble undressing in front of Poz. She wanted him to see her body. She wanted him to see how she had shaved off every last hair between her legs. Maybe she wasn’t a new woman, but it felt like it. She stood proudly in front of him, her fingers laced together behind her neck, the feet at shoulder width apart. 

He was inspecting her and it was exciting. While holding the pose she glanced down and saw that it pulled up her breasts. They were larger now than at any point before in her life. The pose made them look huge. She liked that. 

Poz circled her, occasionally touching a tiny flaw or blemish on her skin. There were stretch marks and scars that were impossible to hide when she was naked like this. She didn’t care. She wanted him to see her how she truly was. 

Galatéa tried not to think about how she had spent far too much time on her makeup before coming to this appointment. She couldn’t remember when she had bothered with this much makeup. It had been at least a year. Longer.

He touched her breasts lightly. “Any bruising from last time?”

She tilted her head slightly. “A tiny bit. It faded after a day. I think my breasts got tougher after I started nursing.”

“Tits.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Your tits got tougher after you started nursing.” He gripped both breasts with his hands, not harshly, but enough to let her know he was in control. She liked him in control. “Tits,” he repeated, then let go. “Say it.”

“Tits,” she obeyed. “My tits.”

One of his hands went between her legs, cupping her mons, her sex. “Cunt,” he said. “Repeat it.”

It was a vile word and it excited her.

“Cunt. My cunt.” The words came out haltingly.

“You have a problem with that word?”

“My…lovers would call it my pussy,” she said, using the word she found more familiar and normal.

“Let them call it whatever they want. In this room it’s called your cunt.”

“My cunt,” she repeated.

He let go of her and circled around her, slapping her bottom with his broad hand. He was already wearing black latex gloves. “Ass.”

Before he could tell her to repeat the word, she said it quickly and clearly. 

“Very good,” he complimented her.

She felt his finger delve between her buttocks. For a second she tensed up and then forced herself to relax. This was a test. He was pushing her limits. She wanted him to push her limits.

His finger went lower. Deeper. He pressed against her tightly puckered opening and she both wanted to resist and let him in. It was dry and rough and she wanted to be violated but her body wouldn’t let it happen. She needed to be more ready.

And then his hand moved away.

“Over here,” he indicated the floor not between the upright timbers where she had been abused at her own request previously, but behind a strange device.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was. It was a homemade set of stocks, the sort of thing she and her schoolmates were taught about when studying the Colonial Era of America in elementary school. She remembered playing with a set during a field trip to a historical village. The head went through the large hole, the hands through the smaller holes to the sides of the head hole and the criminal would stand in front of the village where people would throw rotten vegetables until they had learned their lesson.

These stocks were different. They weren’t exactly for torture. They were for her twisted pleasure.

The wood was good quality and sanded down to an almost satin texture. A heavy black metal hinge held the top to the bottom. A latch made it impossible for the victim to free herself. Or himself. The stocks were set low to the floor, maybe three feet high. They were on a set of adjustable pipes. Large black metal pipes that would normally be used for plumbing. The pipes weren’t attached directly to the floor but a large base of feet made of two by twelve lumber.

The stocks were set so that they were too high for Galatéa to stand and put her head through the hole and too low for her to kneel; she would have to bend over at the waist to do it.

Poz calmly unlatched the top half of the stocks and opened the device. He waited patiently. He wasn’t going to force her to do this. She had to want to do it on her own. 

Even though she knew what was going to happen, Galatéa was still trembling. She wasn’t sure if it was from fear or anticipation or the realization that she was about to put her body through an extremely stressful situation that she had requested.

Taking a breath and steeling herself, Galatéa stepped into place and bent forward, placing her head into the semicircle cutout of the heavy bit of lumber. It took her a moment to properly place her wrists on the matching but smaller semicircles.

When she was in position, Poz lowered the top half and she felt a rush of panic. Poz took the thick braid of her hair and draped it over the top of the stocks, keeping it out of the way. She was trapped. First she tried to pull her hands free but the holes were too small. Maybe if she truly pulled hard she could get free but she’d leave behind too much skin. Even so, she couldn’t stop herself from trying, from pulling her head back. 

Her head was far too big. Her heart started pounding in her chest. Her breaths came faster. The clank of the latch falling into place told her she could escape. She still tried. The positioning was awkward and there was no way for it to happen the way she wanted. 

Without realizing it she was starting to hyperventilate. 

Poz walked in front of her. It was easiest to look down when in the stocks. She saw his black boots and black pants with many pockets. She knew he was wearing a tight black t-shirt but she couldn’t see that at the moment. It was the same outfit he had worn on their previous appointment, but he had added the black latex gloves.

“If it’s too much, we can stop,” he said. 

It was the last thing she wanted or expected. Too much kindness. She wanted to feel some abuse, some pain. 

She forced herself to breathe. She calmed down. She was hyper-aware of her body. Her breasts hung pendulously under her body. She was forced to keep her knees locked in order to stay in position in the stocks.

“No. I’m fine.”

He nodded once and got to work. Everything up to this point was just preparation.

She felt vulnerable and exposed. She liked the feeling though it scared her.

Poz brought out a set of clear plastic tubes connected to a modified breast pump. He added some petroleum jelly to the rubber seal and pressed it against her right breast, turning on the pump. It grabbed her breast and was held in place by the vacuum it created. Poz moved around her body and attached the second tube to her left breast and made sure the seal was good before adjusting the speed and strength of the rhythmic suction. 

Galatéa moaned. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t the familiar nursing sensation she had shared with Jessie.

It was better. 

It only took a few seconds before her breasts released the white ambrosia. Poz watched, making sure the flow was going before he moved on to the next step.

Bending her head down awkwardly Galatéa could just barely see the cones and the collection bottles. Here in the barn and forced into the position of the stocks, she felt like a cow. The new mothers forums she was part of on Facebook often had women complaining that they felt like cows for their newborns. A wry smile pulled at Galatéa’s lips when she realized that those women had no idea what feeling like a cow truly was.

Then Poz’s fingers were between her buttocks again. This time they were slightly wet and sticky. She knew it was the lubricant he was using and then his finger pressed against her anus and then it was inside her.

She inhaled sharply but didn’t complain.

“Very good,” he murmured.

Unconsciously she smiled at the praise.

Then more coldness pressed at her back opening and she tried to resist, but Poz knew what he was doing. She knew what he was doing. The steel anal hook had a ball at the tip and after a moment of fighting, he got it inside her…and then he kept pushing it into her until the curve of the hook settled against her tailbone and the curve of her lower back.

She could feel the leather thongs tied to the eyelet at the top of the hook drape down over her side. They didn’t stay there long; Poz picked them up and expertly tied them to her long braid, forcing her head up just enough so that her position was even more uncomfortable than before.

Never before had Galatéa experimented with anal pleasure of any sort. It wasn’t something that a woman like herself would indulge in. She wanted to push her limits and her old perceptions.

The anal hook held her in place…and she liked it. 

A sigh of contended stress left her body.

“I’m not done yet,” he warned her. 

“I know…”

The position was stressful but Galatéa was determined to see this through. There were so many torments that had been offered to her and she wanted to try them all.

Though the anal hook was new and exciting, it wasn’t the focus of her pleasure at the moment. She still enjoyed the pumps working at her tits. Her milk was flowing freely now; she could feel it. With the thongs of the hook tied to her braid she couldn’t look down, but she knew it was happening.

It made her wonder if this was enough to make her orgasm. She was willing to find out. She would stand here as long as was humanly possible or until her milk gave out.

But she didn’t have time to find that out. Once more Poz was between her legs. He was kneeling now and a faint rumbling buzz filled the air.

“Most women don’t last very long with this,” he said. “And you’re already dripping wet.”

His fingers were at her pussy and she realized he spoke the truth. She was turned on and eager to climax. She had used vibrators in the past, but nothing like the huge white wand that Poz currently held. 

He pressed it to her lips and clit and she cried out in pleasure.

It was too much and she wanted more.

When it was all over he took away the powerful vibrator. She sighed in relief. He eased the hook out of her ass. Her body resisted for a moment but eventually it pulled free. The collection cones were next. Poz switched off the pump and released the pressure. Finally he unlatched the lock and lifted the top half of the stocks. 

Galatéa remained unmoving for a moment before she found the strength to move her body out of the position. Almost immediately she collapsed down to her knees. Her tormentor was right there, comforting her, making sure she didn’t hurt herself.

The ridiculousness of the situation made her let out one unconscious chuckle and then she leaned into him for support.

“Thank you,” she said.

“It’s what I’m here for. It’s what you wanted.”

They remained in that position for a minute before she felt ready to get to her feet. Once she was steady on her legs he turned to her with a plastic bottle in his hand. 

“What do you want to do with your milk?”

It wasn’t a question that she was prepared for. There was more milk in the bottle than she would have guessed, but she didn’t know how long the pumps had been running. It seemed a waste to just dump it down the drain, but Jessie was mostly weaned and this was just a byproduct of what passed for sex for Galatéa now. 

“Uh…I don’t know…”

Poz shrugged. “I can get rid of it. Some people have kinks with milk. I know some women collect and donate or sell it.”

Galatéa shook her head. “No. I don’t need to do that. Just…get rid of it.”

She padded across the rough barn boards to where she had carefully piled her clothes at the start of their session. Poz sealed the bottle and set it aside as he started cleaning up his tools. She watched as he put away the materials he had used on her and switched off the ring light he had focused on her body.

As she dressed she kept glancing at him and back to her clothes. It was so odd to end sex like this.

“Did you enjoy the video we sent you of your first session?” he asked as he took the phone out of the middle of the ring light and started manipulating it.

She nodded and pulled her bra into place, hiding her tits away. “I watched it. I don’t know what to do with it.”

“It’s a souvenir. You can delete it. You can share it with friends or on a porn site. You can ask Vicky to stop sending them. It’s just part of the service.”

“Thank you.”

She knew she didn’t want to share it with anyone, but she didn’t want to delete it either. She didn’t want it on a porn site, but just knowing others did that…intrigued her. She definitely wanted to see the video of today’s session.

“Vicky will get this one to you in a couple of days. It takes time to edit it.”

“Right. Thanks.”

Once she was dressed and had put her shoes on, Poz gave her a quick visual inspection. “Are you okay? Feeling steady? Anything hurt?”

She smiled. “My breasts are—”

“Tits,” he quickly corrected her.

It seemed odd to be treated like a submissive after the session, but she took the correction.

“My tits are a little sore, but that’s fine.”

“What about the rest of you?”

For a man who made his living hurting others for their pleasure, he was very kind.

“My ass feels weird, and my cunt is tingling, but that seems normal.”

“Will I see you again?”

It sounded like he was asking her out on a date and she took a step back. The last thing Galatéa wanted was to date anyone right now. 

“I’m sorry?” she asked.

“Are you going to book another session?” he clarified.

A smile pulled at her lips but she got her emotions quickly under control. “I think so, yes.”

 

Galatéa walked into the living room where Estrella was sitting in the rocking chair holding Jessie. The older woman put her finger to her hips. “I just got her to sleep.”

Jessie’s mother nodded and slipped off her shoes. She carefully took Jessie from Estrella’s arms and walked through the house to the baby’s room, carefully placing her in the crib.

It was odd to think of Jessie as a baby, but she still was, really. She was already a year old and the time had flown by. It had also dragged. 

When she came out of the bedroom Galatéa found Estrella had gathered her things and was waiting in the kitchen. 

“What’s his name?” the middle-aged Latina asked.

Galatéa froze, pretending she didn’t understand the question. “Whose name?”

Showing far more interest than was healthy for an employee, Estrella asked, “The name of the man you’re seeing.”

“I’m not seeing anyone,” she automatically replied.

Estrella laughed lightly. “You’re a terrible liar, Mrs. Papadapolis. This is only the second time in the past six months that you’ve come home smiling. A real smile, too. You don’t have to tell me, but I’m glad you’re happy. Happier.”

The moment Estrella said the word “smiling,” Galatéa put her hand to her face. She felt the swell of her cheeks and the curve of her lips. She was smiling and she hadn’t even realized it.

“I’m…” she tried to summon a lie but for some reason she wasn’t able to lie to the woman she relied on to watch her daughter when she needed a break.

When she went to the doctor.

When she went to her therapist.

When she went to see Poz and have him abuse her body.

“I’m trying to be discreet,” Galatéa finally said.

“I understand,” said Estrella with a knowing nod.

“It’s not anything like you’re thinking,” she quickly blurted out. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Of course not! But you’re a young woman and your life isn’t over. You need to see people.”

“It’s barely been a year,” said Galatéa far more plaintively than she intended.

Estrella made a locking motion around her lips. “I’ll tell no one.”

The guilt returned after Estrella left. And she had been feeling so good. The last thing she needed was to feel bad about herself. Maybe another visit to Poz would be a good thing. 

 

The call from Vicky wasn’t unexpected, but Galatéa hadn’t mentally prepared herself for it. She needed more than a single day to recover from a session with Poz.

As luck would have it, she called at a good time. Jessie was down for her afternoon nap and Galatéa didn’t have anything pressing to do. 

After exchanging pleasantries, Vicky got right to the heart of the matter. “Did you enjoy your session with Poz?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“Would you like to schedule another session? And, would you like to purchase several sessions at once. I can put you on the schedule for a regular time.”

Vicky’s heart was thumping in her chest. She very much wanted to say yes but was afraid of what it might mean if she were to do so. Was she that sort of woman? Two sessions with a BDSM specialist could be written off as a flirtation with something new and kinky. To do more than two would be admitting this was the type of woman she was. 

“Yes. I’d like to do that.”

“Wonderful! Let’s talk details.”

It was soul-baring to talk about her twisted wants and desires with Vicky, but the other woman didn’t judge. She knew when to prompt and suggest something that Galatéa might like or be intrigued by. Nothing was set in stone; everything could be renegotiated up to the last moment. Vicky and Poz just wanted to be prepared for their client’s wants and needs.

It was almost like Vicky was her therapist. It made Galatéa wonder if the short amount of time and small amount of money she had invested with Vicky’s business had been better spent than all the time and money she had spent on Connie’s couch.

“Okay, so you’re set for later this week. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Galatéa had been thinking about it for far too long and she knew there were other ways of getting the information she wanted, but she trusted Vicky. The older woman was so nice and pleasant she felt more like a friend than someone offering semi-legal services to those in need.

“Do you know a good piercer? I’m thinking about having some work done.”

 

 

Chapter 4

 

“Thank you for getting me in so quickly,” said Galatéa as she sat down in the chair that looked exactly like a dental procedure chair. On reflection, she knew it was exactly the sort of chair one would find in a dental office. On the opposite side of the room was a doctor’s examination table. It only made sense to have these two pieces of equipment in the spa.

That’s how the piercer was advertised on the outside. A day spa. It offered the typical amenities of any day spa: facials, massages, seaweed wraps, and hair treatments. They offered tattooing as well, but it was very discrete. Body piercing was just another component of that.

Galatéa couldn’t help but wonder how much of their business was body piercing and tattooing.

The woman in the room with her wore a set of surgical scrubs with her name embroidered above the breast pocket. The pale blue scrubs were the uniform of the spa’s employees. Amelie said, “It’s not a problem. We had an opening. What were you looking at having done today?”

Unable to stop herself from gesturing, Galatéa pointed at her nose. “A septum piercing.”

Up to that point Amelie’s face had been a pleasant mask of calm. Galatéa’s request caused her eyebrows to shoot up and her head to tilt. She glanced at the clipboard in her hands. “This is your first piercing?”

“Other than my ears, yes. Is there a problem?”

“Umm…no. It’s just not a usual first piercing. Nostril piercings are the most common. Did you intend for a nostril piercing?” She smiled pleasantly.

“No.” Galatéa slightly inserted her thumb and index finger into her nostrils and lightly pinched the septum. “A septum piercing,” she stated firmly. “I just want to make sure I can turn it upwards and hide it when needed.”

It took Amelie a moment, but she regained her composure and nodded. “Well, let’s get to work then.”

The procedure didn’t take long. The prep and picking out the right jewelry took the most time. She opted for two pieces because money wasn’t a concern. Amelie would start her with a curved barbell that looked almost like a horseshoe. The second piece was cleverly called a retainer that was designed to be hidden inside the nose. The first was private; the second was public.

In the back of her mind, Galatéa knew she was supposed to be scared. 

She wasn’t. 

She was strangely calm and excited at the same time.

“This will sting a bit,” said Amelie to prepare her. 

“I can deal with pain.”

The pain was unlike anything Galatéa had felt before. The pain was unusual. Her body shuddered at the fiery sensation. It wasn’t orgasmic, but it was oddly close. 

Amelie warned her the pain of putting in the curved barbell would be worse than the needle. She wasn’t wrong. It was just a different sort of pain.

Galatéa didn’t suffer through it. She savored it.

“Oh. My. Um.” The three stuttered words were the first real indication of Amelie breaking professionalism. 

“What’s the matter?” Oddly, Galatéa didn’t feel any fear. She just wanted to know what was happening.

“Are you…um…breastfeeding a baby right now?”

Now she felt a spike of fear. Galatéa looked down and saw twin wet spots on her blouse. She had soaked through her bra and the silk blouse. The spots were no larger than quarters, but were growing. 

“Shit!”

“Let me get you a spare top,” said Amelie. 

It occurred to Galatéa that she could have just left the spa and driven home and not seen anyone. It didn’t matter to her if people knew she was lactating. She just looked at the spots slowly growing on her chest. It was an interesting distraction from the mild pain in her nose. Amelie returned a minute later with a plain blue scrub top. 

“You can return this anytime,” she said. “Let me just give you a moment’s privacy.” She froze because Galatéa had already pulled off her blouse and released her bra before she could react. Amelie stared at Galatéa’s breasts. “You’re bruised,” she commented, seeing the purple marks her play time with Poz had left behind.

Galatéa smiled. “Side effect of a dangerous sex life,” she said and accepted the top but didn’t put it on.

Amelie looked away and went to the door. “I’ll just give you a moment’s privacy.”

It was her first instinct to say that was unnecessary but Amelie was already gone. Alone, Galatéa found that she was trembling. 

And she was turned on.

There wouldn’t be a better time.

Galatéa pushed her hand down into her leggings, inside her panties, found her mons was still smooth from the shaving she had given herself that morning, found her pussy was wet—maybe as wet as her nipples—and plunged her middle fingers into her tunnel. Groaning, Galatéa withdrew her fingers and started rubbing her clit.

She focused on the thrill between her legs, the throbbing pain in her nose, and the ache in her tits.

It took her less than two minutes to cum.

 

Galatéa spent several days at home, not going out unless strictly necessary. She called Estrella and said she wouldn’t be needed for the next few days but not to worry, she would still be paid. She focused entirely on making sure the piercing would heal as quickly as possible. 

She spent too much time on the internet. She spent too much time watching her new preferred genre of porn. She spent too much time watching the two videos that Vicky had sent. She spent too much time masturbating and thinking about what she would do next.

Every minute she didn’t invest in herself, she spent with Jessie. 

When she was ready to face the world again, Galatéa went to her regular appointment with Connie. She bravely swapped out her curved barbell for the retainer just to see if she could do it. There was pain and a spot of blood, but it worked. 

“You seem more confident today,” said Connie at the start of their session.

“I’m feeling better. Maybe it’s time to get on with my life.”

“Have you seen your friend since the last time we spoke?”

Galatéa hesitated, but then said, “Yes. I’m not sure it’s going to go anywhere.”

“That’s fine. Not all relationships need to last years or culminate in marriage,” Connie observed.

“I still feel guilty about what I’m doing…”

“You mean living your life?”

“Yes.”

“Sometimes you have to do what you need to do for yourself and the people in your life.”

The building where Connie had her office had a small cafe on the ground floor for those who worked in the building and for patients and clients of the building’s businesses to have a place to wait. Galatéa decided to indulge herself in a smoothie after her session and took a moment to sit down and people watch for a minute. The cafe was so crowded that it was hard to find a seat.

“Is this seat taken?” The man asking her was bland in appearance but was well-dressed. 

“No. Please sit.” She picked up her purse and made room for him.

“Thank you. Come here often?” he asked conversationally.

She chuckled. “Far too often it seems.”

He smiled. “Sorry. That sounds like a terrible bar pickup line.”

“It’s better than ‘Is your father a thief? Because someone stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes.’“

“I stopped using that back in college.”

Galatéa was in a good mood and her new companion was a nice distraction. She didn’t need to get home to Estrella and Jessie right away. “My name is Téa.”

“Gordon.” He stuck out his hand to her. “Nice to meet you, Téa. I haven’t seen you here before. Why are you here?”

She pointed at the ceiling. “My therapist has her office upstairs.”

The sound he made was something between scoffing and chuckling. “Mine too. Is this how people meet nowadays? In the lobby of their therapists’ office?”

 

“I’m going to be late, Estrella,” Galatéa said on the phone. She was nervously standing in the lobby of Gordon’s apartment building. “Is that okay?” For the amount of money that Galatéa paid her, Estrella should have been agreeable to any schedule that her employer set.

“Is fine, Mrs. Papadapolis.”

“I have some errands to run and…I ran into an old friend.”

“Take your time. Jessie and I are having a good time in the park.”

 

 

Chapter 5

 

After disconnecting the call, Galatéa dropped the phone in her purse. Gordon was waiting patiently. He looked at her face and said, “We don’t have to do this. I’d be happy to take you out on a proper date anytime.”

“Do you know the last time I got laid was?” she asked him.

“Uh…that I do not know.”

“Over a year.”

“Two years for me,” he replied.

“Let’s go fuck and then I can tell my therapist I’m still making horrible life choices.”

She could have walked away right then and there. They were still in the lobby, not even his apartment. The security desk was unmanned; someone was probably only there at night. Instead, she slipped her arm into his and they went to the elevator.

They both faced the elevator doors as they went up, like normal human beings who weren’t psychopaths. Galatéa wondered that if her life had been like a rock music video she and Gordon would have been kissing and groping each other the entire time. 

They didn’t. They stood stock still in total silence until the bell dinged and the doors opened.

A minute later they were in his apartment. When the door shut, they were all over each other.

It was strange and awkward and fun and exciting. Galatéa couldn’t remember the last time she had had sex with John. She couldn’t remember the last time she had sex with anyone but John. The sex she had had—sort of—with Poz didn’t count.

They stripped each other as they proceeded through Gordon’s apartment. Their clothes were scattered here and there and Galatéa didn’t care. He guided them and by the time she was down to her bra and panties he still had his shoes and pants on. 

“Let me,” she said, going down on her knees. She wished she had worn something sexier than the rather plain lingerie she had put on that morning, but she didn’t know she was going to get laid today. Still, lacy pink was fine. It wasn’t like this meant something.

Gordon was happy to allow her to unzip and unbutton his pants while he struggled out of his shoes. The boxer briefs he wore were tight and black and she could clearly see the outline of his hard cock through the fabric.

Pushing aside second thoughts and worries about what she was doing, Galatéa pulled down his underwear.

As much as she wanted his cock to be a thing of beauty, it was just average. Maybe slightly above average. Blandly handsome like his face. At least he didn’t have a nest of pubic hair; either Gordon kept his brown curls trimmed or it was naturally short. He curved slightly to the left but stood up proudly. There was nothing to stop her from putting it in her mouth so she did.

She savored the warmth of his skin inside her mouth. He had a slightly musky smell that was masculine and only made her pussy wetter. 

“Oh…fuck…” he moaned as she slowly bobbed her head up and down on his length. Maybe before she was being unreasonable. He wasn’t huge but was definitely above average. Thicker than John.

She tried not to think of John.

With one hand she stabilized his shaft and with the other she cupped his balls. They were velvety soft and she realized he must shave them. They were so smooth, even pulled up to his body, and she wanted to suck and lick them, but before she could switch from sucking his cock head to his balls he pushed her away.

“What?”

“I don’t want to cum in your mouth,” he said, worry on his face.

She shrugged. “You could. I don’t mind.”

He shook his head. “No. I want to fuck you…if that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

“I know some women just prefer to give head when it’s a hookup.”

“Not me,” she said and stood up while reaching around her back to unhook her bra. Strictly speaking, she didn’t have to take off her bra, but Galatéa preferred to be fully naked during sex. He looked at her tits the moment they were free. That didn’t surprise her. She expected it. Galatéa was rather proud of her breasts. She knew they were attractive and had only gotten bigger since she had started lactating with Jessie…but the frown on Gordon’s face caused her to cross her arms in front of her chest. “What’s the matter?” she asked nervously with a tinge of anger. She was literally exposing herself to him for his pleasure and he should have not just appreciated that but thanked her for it.

He pointed. “You have bruises,” he said.

She uncovered herself and glanced down. There were small bruises here and there on her flesh, mostly centered on her areolas. “Yes,” she dully agreed.

“Are you hurt?”

Galatéa shook her head. “No. Uh. Just some…bruises.”

Gordon didn’t move. She studied his cock and wondered if she had inadvertently fucked things up by taking off her clothes. “I shouldn’t ask, but why do you have so many bruises on your t—on your boobs?”

Summoning up a quick half-truth lie Galatéa said, “I’m lactating. The bruises are from…from the breast pump I use.”

He seemed stunned. “How…how old is your baby?”

“She’s just over a year,” said Galatéa. Becoming frustrated she asked, “Can we just…do it? Have sex and not talk? I’d like to fuck and not talk about my private life.”

Gordon was taken aback. “Yes. Sorry. Shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine,” she replied and yanked down her panties, letting him see all over her.

She liked the way his eyes raked over her naked body. His cock that had started to flag suddenly pulsed and came back to life. She liked the effect of her body on him.

Each took a step toward the other and she felt his naked skin against hers and it was easy to move to the bed, pull back the covers and roll around.

The kissing and caressing was almost as good as what she had with Poz. There was another intrusive thought and she pushed that aside, being more aggressive with Gordon. In short order she was on top of him, straddling his legs, while hunched over sucking his cock. 

“Ready?” she asked him as she released his hardness and moved up his body. 

“Are you?” he asked her. 

Laughing she grabbed his hand and pressed it between her legs. She was wet. Galatéa liked being wet. Gordon was only human and pushed a finger into her pussy, making her moan softly.

“You are ready,” he marveled.

“Surprised?” She shifted her position again, taking his cock in hand and aiming it at her entrance.

“I wanted to go down on you. I like eating pussy.”

“We’ll save that for later,” she said and lowered herself onto him. It took a little bit of work and rocking her hips and remembering how this was done and figuring out how his curve was designed to be fitted inside of her. 

And then everything was perfect. She rode on top of him, using him for her pleasure, leaning back and showing off her tits, letting him play with them, grab her ass, run his hands all over her skin.

She felt like a woman again, fully human. This was what it meant to be a true person. 

The sex was intense but didn’t last long. She thought it would take her forever to orgasm. This wasn’t like the sex she had with Poz. This was different and suddenly she was cumming without working for it or enduring that beautiful pain. Her pussy tightened up and was burning hot and then he was grabbing her and grunting and she was suddenly twice as wet but then she realized that was because he came inside her.

Galatéa fell forward onto him, kissing with a ferocity she didn’t know she had inside her.

After a moment she rolled off him and collapsed on the bed. She could feel his cum leaking out of her and she didn’t care. It was his bed and he could clean up the mess.

“Let me be the first to say that was fan-fucking-tastic,” said Gordon.

She laughed at him. Her heart was still pounding in her chest. It felt good. Her entire body tingled all over from the intensity of the orgasm. “Thank you.”

“I’ve never even picked up a woman in a bar for a one-night stand,” he said. “I certainly never expected to meet someone in my shrink’s office building and take her home in—” he made a show of consulting his watch “—in less than two hours from meet to mattress.”

“I don’t normally do this sort of thing either,” she said, smiling and happy.

“Really? Because when you propositioned me I started to think that maybe you were seeing a therapist for sex addiction.” He grinned at her. “Sorry. That was a terrible joke.”

“Depression, actually.”

“Oh. I make stupid and inappropriate jokes. Sorry. I’m a bad person. I saw your C-section scar and it made me wonder if you were cheating on your husband, but then I was too horny to change my mind.” He paused. “Fuck! I just cheated with a married woman. I make the worst choices in life.”

“I’m not married,” Galatéa said. 

“You aren’t?” Gordon thought for a moment. “But what about the baby you mentioned before?”

“I’m a widow.” The word still felt foreign on her tongue. “My husband died in a car crash right after my daughter was born.”

Gordon said nothing for a long, uncomfortable moment. “My wife died of cancer two years ago. I’m seeing my shrink for depression as well.”

They were both silent. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does.”

Galatéa thought her crying fits were over. She was wrong. The tears and sobs just started for no good reason. She felt Gordon’s arms around her and then he was crying as well.

They cried together for an uncomfortably long time until they were both exhausted again. They stared up at the ceiling while laying next to each other naked, only their shoulders touching.

“Sorry,” she apologized, wiping the tears from her face.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be over her,” said Gordon.

“Does your therapist keep telling you it takes time?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Same for me.”

 They stared at the ceiling in silence for another minute.

“My tits ache,” said Galatéa.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you when we were having sex.”

She shook her head. “It’s from the milk. They’re full.” She cupped her hands over her breasts. “I need to pump them.”

“What about your daughter?”

“She stopped nursing a few months back.”

“Why haven’t you stopped producing?” He seemed genuinely curious.

“I don’t know.” She knew, but didn’t want to say. “Plus it hurts and when I use the breast pump on them, the pressure gets relieved and I feel better.” She hesitated and continued on. “I get myself off when I use my pump.”

“You jill off while you express your milk?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…different.”

“Uh-huh. I think I should go. I don’t want to be in pain.”

When she started to sit up, he caught her wrist. “I could help you with the pain.”

Galatéa looked suspiciously at him. “What do you mean?”

“You just want the milk out, right?”

“Sort of…”

He pulled her back down to the bed and put her on her back, moving on top of her. Gordon put a couple of kisses on her shoulder and then her collarbone and then the top of her breast and then his mouth was surrounding her nipple.

Just the touch of his lips to her sensitive flesh was enough to make her moan.

Then he sucked and her moan got louder. 

The milk was right there. It was ready to come out. His sucking was gentle but insistent. He had to know what he was doing but even so Galatéa wanted to warn him.

She didn’t know when her milk started flowing, but she could feel it fill his mouth.

He swallowed.

“So sweet,” he mumbled around her tit and then nursed some more.

His hand went between her legs and she parted her thighs. She would have been happy to jill off while he sucked on her, but he was willing to do that for her as well.

Like their first round of sex, this was intense as well. Galatéa lay on her back, legs spread, accepting his attention. She cupped her free breast. It was leaking slowly. The wetness of the milk clung to her fingers. This was wrong but she loved it.

Gordon nursed eagerly from her. Her milk was like heaven on his tongue. Though they had just fucked and he had cum minutes earlier his cock started to get hard again. It pressed against her thigh. 

“Yes,” she moaned. “Please. More.”

It had been far too long since Gordon had tasted his wife’s milk. The very thought summoned up old memories that stabbed him in the heart. It was easier to focus on Galatéa’s milk and just enjoy it. 

He shifted from one breast to the other. Galatéa pushed aside his hand from her pussy and frigged herself as fast as she could. The orgasm was easy with him nursing from her. As she came he didn’t stop drinking her milk. 

When he moved between her legs and pushed his cock inside her, she helped. Her tits were big enough that he could nurse from them while fucking her. It was a bit difficult but it was worth it.

He alternated slamming his cock into her and then pausing to suck on her tits for a minute. When he wasn’t fucking her she would reach down to her clit and rub it. She managed to cum three more times before he unloaded inside her again.

“That was the most intense sex I’ve ever had,” he confessed to her.

“Same.”

He chuckled. “You’re a woman of few words.”

She nodded. “You sucked on my tits.”

“That I did.”

“You drank my milk.”

“Yes.”

“Did you…did you like it?”

“I did. I used to do it with my wife. Before she…you know.”

“And you liked it?”

“I loved it.”

“What about her?”

Gordon almost laughed. “She said it was a good thing that I took over nursing from her because she liked it too much and it was getting weird with our son.”

 

The last thing that Galatéa wanted was to justify or explain herself to Estrella. The older woman was an employee but Galatéa couldn’t stop smiling the entire drive home. She couldn’t wipe the happiness from her face when she came inside her house.

“You saw him again, didn’t you?” Estrella asked her.

“Who?” Galatéa asked with a moment of panic.

Estrella laughed. “Whoever your new man-friend is. I’m glad he makes you happy, Mrs. Papadapolis. You need more happiness in your life.”

It was easy to slip into the role of mother when she saw Jessie playing on the living room floor. Dismissing Estrella for the evening, Galatéa was happy to pretend she was a happy single mother. She made herself some dinner and fed her child from the jars of baby food stacked in the pantry. She bathed Jessie and put her to bed after some more play time and reading a book.

Only then did she allow herself to look at her phone. She ignored all the other messages and focused on the one that Gordon had sent her. 

 

Gordon: I understand if you say no but I’d love to see you again

 

Galatéa knew what she should have done. She should have blocked his number and never thought about him again. What she did instead was switch over to her calendar and look at her schedule. In two days’ time she had another appointment with Poz. She had paid for five more sessions and it seemed a shame to let them go to waste. Galatéa had no obligation to Gordon. She was her own woman and could do whatever she wanted with whomever she wanted. If she wanted a man she barely knew to tie her up and torture her tits, then she’d do that. 

If she wanted to go to bed with a stranger and have him suck the milk from her tits, then she’d do that as well.

 

Galatéa: A date or just sex?

 

His answer came quickly, as if he were sitting in bed, holding his phone, waiting for her to reply to his text. 

 

Gordon: Either or.

Gordon: Whatever you want

 

Galatéa: I don’t think I can do a relationship right now

Galatéa: Or even a date

Galatéa: Can we do just sex?

 

Gordon: Sure.

Gordon: When is good for you?

 

It was so business-like, almost bland, almost like setting up a doctor’s appointment. Or another type of appointment, Galatéa reflected. When the day and time was sex, she had to ask the next question.

 

Galatéa: What exactly do you want to do?

 

Gordon: Everything

 

That answer frustrated her. 

 

Galatéa: You don’t have to flirt.

Galatéa: I want real plans.

Galatéa: What do you want to do?

 

Gordon: I want to fuck you and I want to suck your tits

Gordon: I want to taste your milk again

 

That bit of honesty surprised her. 

 

Galatéa: You do?

 

Gordon: Does that upset you?

 

Galatéa: No.

 

One of the services that Connie offered was emergency over the phone or texting counseling. 

Galatéa needed to hear a human voice. She checked the time before calling because even if she was having a crisis, she wasn’t going to call in the middle of the night.

Parenting had completely distorted her sense of time. It was barely eight. She took the risk and called Connie’s emergency number.

It only took her therapist a few minutes to call back.

“Are you okay?” Connie asked when Galatéa answered. “How can I help?”

There didn’t seem to be a reason to launch into a long explanation. “I’m having guilty feelings. Is it okay to go out on a date with a man…when I only intend on having sex?”

“Is this the man you’ve been seeing?” Connie asked. 

Galatéa winced. She was having trouble keeping her lies straight. She needed to either write them down or be more honest.

“Yes…”

“It’s fine,” Connie assured her. “You need to make the decisions that are best for you.”

“But what about John?”

“Would he want you to be unhappy and alone the rest of your life?”

“No…but I don’t think he would want me fucking random men either.”

“Then don’t do that. Explain to this new man that it’s a relationship just for sex for now, if that’s what you want.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Are you going to be okay tonight?”

“Yes. I think so. Yes.”

“Are you going to have sex with him tonight?”

“No. I have a date with him…in a couple of days.”

“You aren’t going to do anything foolish or dangerous are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. We’ll talk more at our next appointment.”

That was after her appointment with Poz and after her date with Gordon.

Galatéa vowed to be more honest with her therapist. If for no other reason than she couldn’t keep her lies straight.

And because she needed actual insight into her needs to have her body tortured for sexual pleasure.

 

On the other side of the city Connie put her phone down and smiled at her boyfriend bound to her bed. “You’re going to eat me out and make me cum,” she said. “But you don’t get to cum tonight.”