Chapter Thirty
Angela has me kneeling on a low table. She has been charged with the duty of attending to my needs, one of which is to relieve my breasts of the flow, well developed over the years through special diet and hormones. Since Ms. Powers has mandated that I wear the waist belt with wrists secured, I cannot use the breast pump. Thus Angela will milk me.
The irritating strumpet has brought one of the gardeners, probably even younger than her, to observe. I can only imagine what licentious interaction will occur after the virile youth watches my breasts being slowly massaged and my n*****s spraying milk into the waiting bowl.
I curse myself for being so lactogenic. In frottaging against the doorknob, the resulting arousal has caused my glands to be standing at the ready. Withou
