The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

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Note: Any resemblance to real people is strictly coincidental. No real people are depicted in this piece of fiction. This story contains explicit male to male sex, domination and bondage. If you don’t enjoy reading this sort of material or are under the age of 21, DO NOT CONTINUE READING. If you regard this type of material as depraved then flee from here and don’t look back!

The Milk Bar—Chapter 30

Mr. Farrington jerked against his bondage and his cock spasmed over and over as he came “Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh, oooooohhhhhh, aaaaaaaaaggghhhhhhhhhhh, uuuuuunnnnnhhhh. Oh God, oh God, oh, oh, oh, aah, aah, aah,” he yelled, barely coherent as his pent up desire plunged down Greg’s throat. Greg sucked and pulled, stretching out his customer’s orgasm as long as he could. Finally, Mr. Farrington collapsed, breathing in ragged gasps as he hung from the stocks. Greg quickly rose and unhooked the chains from the wooden bar, grabbing Farrington and easing him to the floor. A couple of the nearby trainers were watching Greg, looking for a sign that he needed assistance. Greg gave them a thumbs-up as he held Mr. Farrington’s head cradled in his lap. He was trembling violently and tears were welling up in eyes and spilling down his cheeks as he reached up and cupped Greg’s face in the palm of his hand. “Thank you,” he gasped. “Thank you for everything.” As Greg stroked his hair, he gulped a few times, struggling to catch his breath. “It’s better than I’d hoped. Oh God, it’s so much better. Thank you Greg.” “You’re welcome Sir. I’m glad I could be of service and could please you,” Greg smiled.

The two of them remained there for a few more minutes while Mr. Farrington rested and regained his strength. Finally, he sat up. “There’s one more thing I want to do tonight; something I’ve waited for all my life. I don’t want to wait any longer. Please stand up for me, Greg.” “Yes Sir,” Greg answered and got to his feet. Mr. Farrington knelt in front of his man-cow, whom he was not even thinking of in such terms at that moment and feasted his eyes on his beautiful, uncut cock. The fact that it was uncut hardly mattered, since it was so stiff that the foreskin had peeled back of its own accord, exposing the dark red, plum-sized head. Pre-cum was dripping out of the man-cow’s wide piss-slit, dribbling onto the floor. Mr. Farrington just gazed at it in wonder, his eyes wide. Then he slowly raised a hand and timidly touched the warm head. “Oh God,” he whispered. “At last.” He ran the tips of his fingers over the smooth, taut skin, sending shivers down Greg’s spine. Then he took some of the pre-cum between his fingers and felt it like it was a magical fluid. He smeared it over that spongy flesh, coating it, making it look like a sugar-plum with a candy coating. Greg, in desperation, clasped his hands behind his back to keep them from doing what would have come naturally, which was to grab Mr. Farrington’s head and pull him down over his pole.

Farrington inspected Greg’s heavy cock as though it were a treasure. He held it in the palm of his hand, hefting its weight. He lifted it up and examined the puckered skin along its underside, feeling the ridge with the tip of his finger. He pulled on Greg’s milk sac, rolling his large milk balls between his fingers, murmuring the whole time. Greg was almost embarrassed to find his genitals the object of such wonderment and admiration. It was as though Mr. Farrington had never seen a set of cock and balls before. Then Greg remembered that, though he’d undoubtedly seen them, he’d never had the opportunity to handle another man’s jewels before. This was an entirely new experience for him! Finally, as Greg’s honey dripped from the end of his dick, Mr. Farrington leaned forward, stuck out his tongue and caught the magical flow on its tip. He pulled his tongue back in and smiled as he savored the salty-bitter taste. “Wonderful,” was all he said, and, opening his mouth took Greg’s warm head into his mouth. He sucked on it like a calf on a teat, fiercely drawing as much of the honey into his mouth as he could, whimpering and groaning as his soul was overcome with his first taste of a man. He grabbed Greg’s buns and tried to pull him all the way in, seeking to bury his man-cow’s stalk in his own throat. Naturally, he gagged and choked. Greg unclasped his hands and reached for Farrington’s head. “Easy,” he murmured. “Slow down. This takes time. You need to learn how to do it. Go slow now.” Farrington looked up at his man-cow’s handsome, smiling face. How had he been so lucky to find such a gentle, caring teacher. He smiled, said “Thanks” and tried again. “Just take it in until you feel it hit your gag spot. Then hold it there for a moment. Then back off a little and try it again.” Greg had not expected to be an instructor so early in his career as a man-cow, but since the need had arisen, he would meet it as best he could. Fortunately, he remembered his own instructions that he’d received from Master Burt when he first started out (could it have been that recently?) and he could pass them on to Mr. Farrington, who obviously wanted to suck cock in the worst way.

Farrington did what his teacher had suggested: he slid his hungry mouth over the thick, long cock until he felt it touch his soft palate and he started to gag. Then he just stayed there for a few moments until the feeling subsided. Then he pushed a little farther. He repeated this action over and over until his throat had relaxed and he was able to swallow Greg’s dick. He loved the fullness it created in his mouth, the warm pulsing feeling of a thing alive. He loved the feel of it on his tongue and sliding past his lips. He loved the feel of being stretched by a man and the feel of being used by a man. Maybe this was what he was meant for; maybe he would become a man-cow himself. He would ask his friend about it. All he knew was that he loved having his mouth on a man’s dick!

Greg worked with Mr. Farrington, teaching him some of the basic elements of good cock-sucking and realized that he had an apt and eager pupil. He would mention this to Master Burt. Perhaps the Milk Bar would be looking for a man like Farrington; not a god, but nothing to sneeze at either and there were all tastes in men after all. Not everyone wanted to have sex with a god. After twenty minutes of work, Mr. Farrington was tired. Not a bad start for a first-timer. “I think you may have had enough for one night, Mr. Farrington. Would you like to stop for now?” Greg asked the man impaling himself on his rod. Farrington pulled off him. “I want to bring you off. I want that experience. Are you allowed to come for me?” “Yes Sir. If that’s your desire, that’s why I’m here.” “That’s what I want. I want to drink your milk.” “OK. Then why don’t you go down on me again and when you want me to come, stick a finger up my ass. That’ll be your signal and I’ll give you my man cream.” “OK. Let’s go.” Mr. Farrington was so eager, he nearly collided with Greg’s rock-hard cock as he dove onto it.

Farrington rocked in and out, striking his forehead on Greg’s pubes while the man-cow’s low, heavy milk sac slapped the underside of his jaw as he sucked. Then finally, he placed his hand between Greg’s legs and thrust a finger into his hole. In an instant, Greg felt that rush of orgasm squeezing his muscles. A spasm pushed through his body and he exploded into Mr. Farrington’s mouth, pumping his load down his eager throat. Farrington swallowed fast and hard, but he couldn’t keep up and cum filled his mouth and dribbled down his chin. Still holding Greg’s pulsing cock in his mouth, he continued to swallow, savoring every drop. What dripped from his chin, he tried to catch with his free hand so as not to lose it. He wanted it all. He sucked on Greg’s teat like a hungry calf and when it was empty, scooped up the overflow from his chin and licked his hand clean. There were a few drops on the floor and, hesitating just a moment, he bent down and licked those up as well, knowing that, if his wish came true, he would be in a position of being expected to do that.

Mr. Farrington’s hour was up and Greg asked him what he wanted to do. “I think I’ve done enough for one night, especially for my first night. So I think I’ll get dressed, have a drink at the bar and then head for home.” “Very well Sir. I hope you enjoyed your time here tonight,” Greg answered. Mr. Farrington took Greg’s hands in his. “I’ll never forget it. Thank you for all you’ve done. I can’t thank you enough.” “Oh no Sir. Thank you. I’m glad I pleased you.” “More than pleased. More than pleased. I’m sure I’ll see you again,” Mr. Farrington winked at Greg. “Thanks.” And with that, he turned and walked toward the customer’s locker room. The timidity that Greg had first noticed in him was gone. Mr. Farrington walked like a man who knew who he was and what his place in the world was. Greg smiled and went to look for Burt.

The Milk Bar—Chapter 31

Greg found Burt talking with another customer. With a shock of recognition shooting down his spine, Greg realized he knew this man from somewhere, but he couldn’t place him.. He was medium height, about 5 foot 10, medium build and around forty-five, Greg guessed. Closely cropped salt-and-pepper hair, a handsome face and smiling green eyes. Who was he? Where did he know him from? Greg came and stood beside and slightly behind Master Burt, his head down, feet apart, hands clasped behind his back, waiting for instructions. In a few moments, Burt looked over at him. “Good, you’re back. I trust you treated Mr. Farrington well?” “Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” Greg answered without looking up. “Good. That’s what I heard from the other trainers. Now I want you to meet Mr. Carrothers.” Again, without raising his eyes, Greg answered “Good evening Sir. I’m at your service.” “Good boy,” Carrothers said in a deeply melodious voice. “I’ve been waiting for you.” The name Austin flickered through Greg’s mind, but it didn’t make any sense to him. He knew he’d met this man somewhere before, but couldn’t recall where. “Come with me boy. I want to see what you’re made of,” Mr. Carrothers said smoothly, and grabbing Greg’s erect cock, led him away.

Mr. Carrothers led Greg into a private room. In the middle of the room was an examination table with articulated sections, a headrest at one end and stirrups at the other. There were clear tubes hanging from the ceiling with nipple connectors on the ends. “Up on the table boy, on your back,” Carrothers ordered. Greg scrambled onto the table and lay on his back, placing his head on the headrest and his feet in the stirrups. Carrothers circled the table looking down at Greg’s body, running his hands over it as he walked, his green eyes glittering. He grabbed the man-cow’s quads and squeezed them between his fingers, eliciting a groan from the object of his inspection. Then he slid his hands over Greg’s tight abs and up to his chest, running the tips of his fingers around the aureoles of his tits before pinching them and pulling them away from his chest wall as far as they would stretch. “Oh yes,” he said, and removed the ring from the slave’s right tit, placing it on the counter to the side. Finally, he seemed satisfied. “Very nice. Just as I’d thought. A fine head of cattle.” As he said this he slapped the tip of Greg’s erect cock up against his belly, laughing at his own joke. “Thank you Sir,” Greg responded. “I have you for the rest of the night boy, so settle in for a long one. I intend to see what I missed out on before.” “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir.” Greg’s mind was racing trying to figure out where he’d met this man before. For a moment, the fragrance of Thai food wafted through his memory, but he still couldn’t get a fix on it.

Carrothers raised the headrest slightly, allowing Greg to see his body and what was being done to it. Then Mr. Carrothers went gone to the locker to retrieve some items that he intended for use on this man-cow that he’d been interested in since that evening in the take-out restaurant a few evenings before. He did believe in the sanctity of other men’s property rights and wouldn’t have infringed on those of Lt. Barber’s master. But here at the Milk Bar, this cop-slave was fair game and so he’d come prepared to buy his services for at least one night. He knew that the mind control the Milk Bar had over its herd would prevent Barber from remembering where they’d met, but he also realized that the man-cow would have a sense that they had met sometime, somewhere before. So he would just play along with that. Who knows? Maybe he’d get an additional bit of fun out of torturing Barber with his inability to firmly identify him. Maybe he’d have some fun with Barber’s inability to remember who his full-time Master was as well. Carrothers was an old hand at the Milk Bar and he suspected that Jim Downing had picked Barber to be his boy. When he’d run into Barber in the take-away shop that evening, it pretty much confirmed that. He and Downing were neighbors and got along well when their paths crossed, which wasn’t all that often. And he liked and respected Downing and thought him a very capable Master and a good man. But that didn’t have to keep him, Austin Carrothers, from taking some liberties with Downing’s boy when he was a man-cow for hire at the Milk Bar.

Carrothers returned to the table with what he needed. First, he picked up Greg’s feet and slid calf-high black leather combat boots over them. He had a number of long laces and used these to both lace the boots on Greg’s feet as well as running the extra laces through the triangular eyelets on the boots and then around the metal brackets the stirrups were mounted on. When he was finished, Greg found his feet to be securely bound to the stirrups. Then he wrapped numerous lengths of nylon rope around Greg’s thighs, looping the rope around the same brackets. When he was finished with the loops around each leg, he took more rope and wrapped it around the loops of rope themselves, further confining the man-cow’s legs. Next, Carrothers pulled sturdy straps over Greg’s lower abdomen and across his torso, just below his tits. He cinched these tight so that Greg couldn’t raise himself from the table. Carrothers took leather shackles and, first buckling them on Greg’s wrists, then hooked them into snap hooks fastened to the end of the table above the cop-slave’s head. Finally, using more of the nylon rope, he bound Greg’s upper arms in much the same way he had bound his thighs, looping the rope around conveniently placed hooks on the side of the examination table. “Can you move boy?” Carrothers asked him. Greg tested his bonds. “No Sir. Thank you Sir.” “Good boy,” Carrothers smiled and went back to the locker. “Now that I’ve got you where I want you, we can really get down to business,” he said as he came back to the table. He placed several items on Greg’s belly. There was a large suction tube and two smaller tubes and there was a metal tipped butt plug. “Are you ready boy?” “Yes Sir. I’m ready Sir. Thank you Sir,” Greg answered enthusiastically. And, in fact, he was ready. His cock was standing straight up and leaking pre-cum like a hose.

Carrothers selected a clear vacuum tube from those hanging above the bound man-cow. He attached the connector tubes on the smaller suction tubes to it and flipped a stop-cock on the vacuum tube. The sound of rushing air could be heard as he greased the ends of the suction tubes and slicked mineral oil on Greg’s pencil-eraser sized tits. Then he pressed the tubes onto his tits. Almost immediately, the man-cow’s tits were sucked into the tubes, expanding out from his chest an additional half inch. Mr. Carrothers greased up the buttplug and placed its tip against Greg’s waiting hole. The cop-slave pushed down to open his rosebud as much as he could and welcome the intrusion. His master-for-the-evening shoved the buttplug home and then attached the electrical cord coming out of its bottom to an electrical connection hanging from the ceiling. Finally, Mr. Carrothers took the large suction tube, greased its opening and, holding Greg’s stiff cock and heavy balls still, lowered it down until it rested on his pubes. Then, holding it down, he turned the stop-cock, starting the suction. Greg felt even more blood rushing into his swollen dick and nuts as they turned deep red and expanded even more.

Mr. Carrothers looked down at his handiwork and smiled. Just what he’d hoped for! This handsome, sexy cop, tied down and completely at his mercy. He lay there looking up at his master, his blue eyes questioning as his tits swelled to awesome proportions atop his strong hairy chest and his cock soared above his pubes, vacuumed into one of the finest milking machines the Milk Bar owned. Yes, he was a sight to behold! Austin was hard as a rock from having bound this incredibly sexy stud bottom. He decided to give himself some more freedom and tease Barber before he went any further. The cop-slave’s eyes were fastened on Austin as he began to remove his shirt. He started with his sleeves and, after unbuttoning them pushed them back, revealing strong, wiry forearms coated with soft brown fur. When he unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, Greg caught his breath as a dense forest of medium brown fur flecked with gray was revealed at his throat and down the cleft of his chest. Greg’s cock and tits grew even harder, if that was at all possible, given their currently very extended state. And his mouth was watering.

Carrothers pulled his shirt off his muscled shoulders revealing quarter-sized tits with erect points riding on tight pecs and poking through the mat of hair on his chest. His belly was bare, except for the line of hair that ran from his navel down into his pants. Greg could see that the bulge at his crotch was large and growing larger: his mouth began to water and he whimpered. “Yes, boy, I know. You want to see the rest of the package, don’t you? Well just sit tight; you’ll get your chance,” Carrothers said, teasingly. After kicking off his shoes, he turned away from Greg and unbuttoned his jeans, sliding them down his solid legs and Greg could see that he was wearing a white jock. Then he pulled of his pants, folded them and placed them on the counter before turning back to face his man-cow who was already riding on the edge because of the pumping he was being subjected to. Greg could see the large spot of pre-cum on the front of Carrothers’ jock and licked his lips in expectation.

“Not yet boy. You don’t get it yet. We have a little work to do first,” said Carrothers as he walked back to the bound cop. From behind his back, he brought our a leather hood and quickly placed it over the slave’s head. There were holes for his nose and mouth, but not for his eyes and he whimpered in frustration at not being allowed to see this master’s prize. As he whimpered, he felt a smooth object touching his lips, so he opened his mouth, as he knew would be expected. A cock gag slid in and was snapped in place. He sucked hard on the gag, accepting that it might be the best substitute for cock that he was going to get for the rest of the night. His pumped cock was aching and his tits felt like they were being stretched to fill the tubes. Then, he felt the butt-plug beginning to come to life in his hole. A slight current was flowing from the vibrating head, giving him a double sexual jolt, causing him to buck against the restraints pinning him to the table.

He lay there in the quiet darkness, aware only of the sensations coming from his ass, his tits, his mouth and his cock and balls. His whole world was sexual arousal and he reveled in it. Suddenly, he felt an arm around his head, making him start. “Now boy,” Carrothers was speaking in his ear, “I want to see how many times you can come for me tonight. I know you’ve delivered two loads already, but I want to see if the Milk Bar’s cows deliver as advertised. Let’s see if you can give me four more loads. How about that, huh? Think you can do that boy?” Greg wasn’t at all sure he could stand four more orgasms tonight, let alone, whether his body would deliver, but he had to try to please his master. So he nodded his head, saying “Yes Sir.” Of course, the gag in his mouth garbled his speech, but his master understood. He patted his head. “Good boy. And I’ll add some extra stimulation to keep you involved.” Greg wasn’t at all sure what that meant, but he was fairly sure it would be painful.

Lying there in the muffled blackness, securely bound to the table, Greg was startled by the sudden touch of his master’s hands, gliding over his body. Then there was a sharp slap to his belly. He would have curled up in response to the blow but the restraints prevented any such movement. There was another slap to his butt, then another to his thigh, his belly, his other thigh, his other ass cheek and on and on. The beating continued, heating Greg’s body and increasing the level of his arousal which was coupled now with pain. The spanking pulled Greg higher and higher as the pumps worked his nipples and genitals. His breathing became more rapid now, coming in gasps as he approached the peak. And then he plunged over. Spasm after spasm gripped his body as the milking machine sucked the man cream from his dick. The tight bondage made the orgasm a new thing for him, since he usually could move during ejaculation. Now the only movement was that of his cock as it slammed the milking tube against his belly. He screamed around the gag and his voice sounded both distant and close since he could only hear it inside his head. It sounded to him like a scream from another time and place coming back to him through a narrow passage, much like the cum that flowed from his urethra into the suction tube. The ejaculation from his dick was the same as the ejaculation from his mouth.

As he caught his breath, he again felt Carrothers embracing his head as he talked into his shielded ear. “That was good boy. But that was only one. You have three more to go. Let’s see how they progress.” Again, Greg responded with a “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir,” but the sound was unintelligible. Greg’s dick hadn’t even had time to go soft when he felt those hands caressing his body again. He hadn’t thought it possible to be aroused again so quickly, but his dick was stiffening once more. But this time, the stiffness proved to be somewhat painful. Ache was the word; his cock ached, like a balloon that had been inflated too far but wouldn’t burst. The pressure was uncomfortable. But Carrothers persisted, stroking him, grabbing his muscles through his skin and pulling them, as though to separate them from the bones. Greg loudly groaned into the gag. This erection was being physically dragged from him. Carrothers kneaded his arm muscles, twisting and pulling them. Then he moved down to his chest, plucking at his ribs like they were strings on a double bass. Once again, Greg found the pain took him up the mountain and his cock responded to the mauling his body was receiving.

Carrothers moved down to the cop-slave’s tight belly and pushed against it with his hands, like a doctor palpating his organs. Greg grunted and groaned as his guts were pushed about. From his abdomen, his tormentor moved to his thighs and calves, digging into the defined musculature with his strong fingers, exploring the fibers of each part. Finally, master came back to his buttocks. He ripped into them, pulling them apart, squeezing and kneading them, pummeling them like they were lumps of dough. Greg cried out in pain and arousal at this assault on one of his most erogenous parts. Carrothers parted his ass cheeks and pushed fingers from both hands into the hole along the sides of the plug filling his butt. Then he wiggled the plug, knocking it against Greg’s prostate. That sent the man-cow over the edge, making him jerk again and again against the bonds as he shot more man-cream. But this time, it felt like the cream was coming from the very bottom of his balls, like they’d pulled up their reserves. His balls ached; his penis ached, his belly ached where he’d slammed against the belt holding him to the table; his whole body ached from the rolfing he’d just been subjected to. And all this ache combined with the electricity of his orgasm as he shot into the milking tube attached to his teat.

Rather than the dark of the hood, his mind’s eye was filled with sparkling green and blue dots. As he came back down, he realized this hallucination was the result of a momentary lack of oxygen caused by his having stopped breathing during his explosion. He pulled hard for air through the nostril holes in the hood, thinking he’d never get enough air. Then suddenly, the gag was pulled from his mouth and he gasped for the sweet air, pulling it in in great lungfulls. As his self-awareness came back, he realized that his cock felt as though it had been beaten too. He was through! He needed to rest! Please, no more Sir. But the only sound from his mouth was a quiet whimpering moan. Once again, he felt Carrothers arm around his head. “You’ve done very well boy. Five tablespoons of man-cream. I’m impressed. Still two more to go. Are you ready boy?” “Yes Sir,” Greg rasped out, though what he wanted to say was “No, please. No more. Please.”

Greg felt Mr. Carrothers walking around the room and wondered what was in store for him next. Then the tit milkers were pulled from his chest. He felt the tines of an Elastrator tool pressing against his right tit and in a second, the rubber band slid over his swollen nipple. The process was repeated with his left nipple. His tits were quite sensitive and distended by now, sticking up from his chest at least half an inch with pre-cum-like fluid oozing from their swollen points. Carrothers brushed his palms on the tips, making his man-cow jump again at the touch. He squeezed them, milking the slick secretions out of the swollen nubs and rubbing it around the aureoles, drawing a long groan from the once again aroused cop-slave. “You live for this don’t you, pig? You’re a slut aren’t you? You live to be abused don’t you?” “Yesss Sssirrr. Thank you Sir. Please use me. Do what you want with me. Please Sir,” Greg groaned. “Count on it boy,” Carrothers laughed, reveling in the degradation of this slave boy, one of the City’s finest.

“OK, boy,” Carrothers said, “Two more to go. Don’t think I’ve run out of ideas for getting you off, even now that your balls are just about drained. I think we can still squeeze some more man cream out of them. But first, a little sustenance.” Greg felt a nipple pressed to his lips and sucked it into his dry mouth. Blessed liquid came out of it, refreshing his mouth and throat. It was somewhat sweet, but with a tang, so Greg guessed that it had some calories and nutrients in it and he gulped it down gratefully. In a few moments, there was no more in the container and he released the nipple. “Thank you Sir,” he gasped, catching his breath. “Now boy, let’s see how you do on the next leg,” Carrothers laughed. With that he pushed the cock-gag back into Greg’s mouth and fastened it in place. “You might find my next idea rather uncomfortable, and I’d rather let you yell all you want. But the gag will save my ears. So sing out if you like. I’m sure I would.” Somehow, Greg didn’t find that admission very comforting. What did his master have in mind? He found out in a short moment.

First, master unfastened the boots on his feet from the stirrups. Then he loosened them and pulled them off the cop-slave’s feet. He fastened a leather cuff around each ankle and chained it to the armature supporting the stirrup. Once again, Greg couldn’t move. Then he felt the pump on his cock and balls starting again and within a few moments, felt an abrasive rubbing on his skin. Then it hit him. Sandpaper! His master was sanding the hair off his body. He’d started with the tops of his feet and was working his way up! The sensation was tickling at first, making Greg laugh uncontrollably. He shuddered and bucked against the bonds holding him to the table, his body seeking an escape that wasn’t there. But the tickling soon turned painful as master sanded away the hair on his body and the outer layer of skin. When he’d finished with an area and moved on to the next, the boy’s skin felt like it had received a good whipping. The pain mixed with the tickling and brought tears to his eyes. He was laughing and crying at the same time. And his cock was responding to the stimulus and pain, standing straight up and throbbing. The pain emanating from it was unlike any he’d ever known. He wished it were cut off! Anything to relieve the pain and pressure in his aching dick.

The double assault continued up his body, reaching his hairy thighs, then arriving at his belly and upward to his chest. The rasp of the sandpaper on his pecs was unbearable and inexorable. His cock felt as though it would be split open by the blood engorging it, driven into its dark, angry red head like a rain-swollen stream. Greg was screaming now. Screaming from the pain coursing through his body and the tickling that threatened to drive him mad as Carrothers went to work on the hair under his arms, one of the most sensitive spots on his body. He thrashed against the ropes and actually broke some of the ropes fastening his legs to the stirrups. But he couldn’t break free. He began to loose consciousness as his blood pressure rose and he hyperventilated from the torturous laughter and screaming. Then, suddenly, he felt a massive shudder up and down his spine and his hips thrust against the belts pinning them to the table. It felt like hot lava was rising up from his aching balls to his penis and shooting out the end. He screamed and screamed, overcome by the agony of his fifth orgasm of the evening.

Greg’s arched back relaxed and he sank back to the table, utterly exhausted, a ball of pain. He couldn’t take any more. He needed to rest. “Please Sir. Please. No more,” he begged. But of course, his pleas were completely garbled. Carrothers wrapped his arm around Greg’s hooded head and spoke into his ear. “You’ve done well boy. Half a tablespoon that time. I wasn’t sure you had it in you. You may break a record tonight. OK. Let’s go. One more time.” Greg thrashed his head back and forth desperately. “Noooo,” he screamed into the gag. “Please no more.” But Carrothers just laughed and patted his head. Greg was weeping now. He’d never been in so much pain. His cock and balls felt like they’d been through a meat-grinder. He wasn’t sure they’d ever function properly again. How could master do this to him? Then he felt the suction again, pulling on his inflamed genitals. “Oh God,” he groaned, wishing he could curl in on himself and disappear.

How would Carrothers stimulate him this time? What other torture did he have in mind? The man-cow could only wait in dread. He didn’t have to wait long. He felt the prickling of current starting on the bottoms of his feet. Master was using an electric wand on him. His pink, freshly sanded and denuded skin was even more sensitive that it might have otherwise been and he could hear almost as quickly as he could feel, the pops and cracks as the current jumped from the wand to his body. He jerked and pulled, trying to break loose from his bondage; break loose so that he could run, or more like crawl away. This pain reached down into his bones like a knife. By now, his throat was raw from screaming and his tears coated his face, trapped inside the hood that encased his head in darkness and pain. He rode the pain up and up until he suddenly found it fading into the distance. It was still there, but it no longer filled his consciousness. He was looking down on his tormented body, now completely devoid of hair, except for his shaved pubic patch marking his status and he watched as master drew the glowing, sparking wand over it again and again, making his body jerk like some demented puppet. Then he saw his entire body contract and spasm as, one last time, he came. It felt like his balls were being pulled through his dick, for it seemed there was nothing at all left in them or in his prostate. But, with a last, tremendous spasm, he spilled some cum into the milking tube encasing his swollen penis. The fluid was almost clear, but it came nevertheless. Then he dove back into his body and collapsed, trembling and shaking on the table.

The Milk Bar—Chapter 32

Mr. Carrothers released Greg’s ankles from the cuffs and untied the ropes around his thighs. He unbuckled the belts crossing his abdomen and chest and pulled them off the cop-slave’s body. He undid the ropes pinning his upper arms to the table and unfastened the cuffs from his wrists. Finally, he unsnapped the hood and pulled it off Greg’s head. Greg blinked and squinted in the bright light. He’d been in darkness for so long, he’d almost forgotten what light was like. His entire head was bathed in sweat and tears and his face was drawn from the ordeal he’d been through. He raised his head a moment and saw his cock and balls, still being sucked into the lucite tube, colored an angry purple hue. Then he dropped his head back on the table. He could glance down and see the huge points of his tits, distended half and inch from his now naked chest. He shakily raised his hands to feel his denuded pecs and the points of his swollen nipples. He’d forgotten what it was like not to have hair on his chest it had been so long. It had begun to come in when he was in high school and he’d always been secretly proud of this sign of his manliness. Its absence now was arousing and humiliating. Truly, he looked like a slave-boy.

Finally, Carrothers pulled the tube off his genitals and they flopped onto his belly like fish out of water. God how they hurt! He couldn’t even bare to touch them and flinched when Carrothers took his dick in his hand. “I’m very pleased boy. You’ve proven yourself tonight as one of the Milk Bar’s finest. Mr. Delaney will get an enthusiastic report from me. I’m envious of your master. He’s a luck man.” “Thank you Sir. I’m glad I pleased you,” Greg husked out. He couldn’t even raise himself from the table he was so tired and having Carrothers fondle his penis was almost unbearable. When would he stop? At last, Mr. Carrothers let him go and moved to the head of the table.

“Now boy, before we started, I believe your mouth was watering at the sight of my cock. I know you’re too tired to do much now, but I’m going to give you a sample. So open wide.” Saying this, Carrothers released the headrest, grabbed Greg under the arms and pulled him toward the end of the table so that his head hung over the end. This gave him a straight shot down the man-cow’s throat. The slave was staring at his master’s huge, erect cock and pendulous balls. His cock looked like a piece of pink marble with blue veins running through it, only it pulsed and throbbed with life. Could it be that he was getting aroused again? He quickly realized that the arousal was mental rather than physical. There was simple nothing left to bring him an erection again. So he opened his mouth and throat and swallowed Mr. Carrothers’ heavy, thick schlang. Carrothers thrust in and pulled back, enjoying the warmth and moisture of this very able slave’s mouth. Fortunately, his session had left him very close to the edge, and it didn’t take many thrusts to put him over. He grabbed Greg’s sore, swollen nipples and shoved his dick as far down the man-cow’s throat as he could, yelling as he filled his gullet with his own rich cream. As his spasms ceased, he stood there panting, his palms resting on Greg’s tortured chest.

When he’d recovered, Mr. Carrothers went to the wall and pushed a button, ringing a bell somewhere in the building. In a few minutes, Burt and Sam came into the room. “Everything satisfactory, Mr. Carrothers?” Burt asked solicitously. “Excellent,” Carrothers answered. “He’s a fine specimen. Six tablespoons I got out of him. And that’s not counting the first two loads that he delivered. Outstanding. Tell Delaney he’s got a good head of cattle here. And give him my personal thanks.” “Yes sir. Thank you Mr. Carrothers. The Milk Bar aims to please and we’re always happy when a customer is happy. Good night sir,” Burt said. In the meantime, Sam had been helping Greg to sit up and get off the table. His legs would barely support him, which seemed to be no surprise to his handlers who simply held him under the arms and helped him down the hall.

They dragged him as much as helped him downstairs and took him to his stall where they laid him on fresh hay. He closed his eyes and groaned. In a few moments, Burt came back with a nipple bottle, pulled his chin down, opening his mouth and shoved the nipple in. “Drink boy. This will help you to recover and also to sleep. Drink up!” Gratefully, Greg sucked on the teat, feeling energy flow into him with each swallow. But he was so exhausted that that energy barely covered the bottom of the reservoir, let alone filling it. He emptied the bottle and fell back into a profoundly deep sleep.

To be continued