I began to feel pain. A sharp ache was developing in both breasts as they threatened to grow beyond the ability of my skin to contain them. Something had to be done and quickly.
I turned my head to look at my captor. He was sitting at a table in the corner, fiddling with another of his torture devices and was unaware of my situation. The risk of more punishment seemed small compared to the inevitable damage I was about to undergo. I cried out to get his attention,
"Heeeuuh. Heaaaa!" I managed to force a raspy croak from my sore vocal cords.
Surprised that I would break Rule #1 and risk further punishment, he turned immediately and took in my situation. He knocked over his chair in his rush to come to my aid, his concern evident in his speed and his body language. I was touched.
"My goodness! That's incredible! You've exceeded my expectations! Here, let me turn up the pump. You're overloading it."
He thought I was doing it on purpose! He thought I was inflating my breasts to the point of rupture because I was trying to please him. I didn't know whether to be furious with him for putting me in this situation or pity him for being so clueless and self-centered.
He reached behind my head and I heard the noise of the pump motor rise to a higher pitch. He replaced the full collection bottle with an empty one and set it back where I could see it. He turned the pump control some more, coaxing it to an even faster speed and watched closely to see if it had an effect. After a few seconds of watching me suffer steadily increasing pain, he turned it up some more, and then again a few seconds later.
It wasn't helping. My eyes started to cross from the pressure and the pain. My captor took another look at my face and turned the pump up all the way.
The pump raced to its top speed with a horrible clatter before settling into a loud rumble. The pulsing suction on my nipples became a steady pull. The pressure started to ease off almost immediately and the pain slacked off shortly afterwards. I breathed a deep sigh of relief when my vision cleared and I dropped my head back on the hard metal with a thunk.
The crisis over, I slowly drifted back to my state of bliss and resumed my examination of the similarities of different types of pleasure. It was going to take some time before the accumulation of milk in my breasts could be sucked out and even longer before the effect of the drug wore off and I would be able to turn off the tap. I found the courage to smile to myself when I remembered that this was one of the horrible things Bambi had thought of to scare me into a compliant state. My breasts had, indeed, been turned into udders overflowing with milk. The difference was, I loved the feeling now instead of being terrified of it, and I was terrified then when I should have loved it.
My captor sat by my side this time instead of wandering off to tinker. He stood ready to swap out the collection bottles when necessary and to reduce the pump speed when that looked to be advisable. His attentiveness told me that he was ashamed of violating the terms of our implied agreement — that I would cooperate and he would do me no serious harm — or at least no unintended serious harm.
It was that gray area as to just what each of us thought of as 'serious' that bothered me. To some people, having a quarter-inch hole poked in the middle of your tongue would be serious. To others, it might even qualify as mutilation. To me, it was an interesting bit of piercing. Several girls at school had had something similar done to them. They happily showed off their metal studs and their colored beads to anyone who was curious. Mine was unusual in that it was a larger-diameter hole held open by a hollow sleeve instead of a solid stud. It looked like I might have some trouble eating soup, but that was the worst inconvenience I could foresee. I was already thinking of ways I could show it off.
I wished that I could pull my tongue back into my mouth so I could explore the piercing. It had been pulled out so long that the muscles had been stretched and it was no longer uncomfortable, but it had dried out from being exposed to the air and the warmth of the room. My whole mouth felt dry and I realized that it wasn't just from being held open by the gag. I was losing a lot of fluid to the milking and I was becoming badly dehydrated. I needed a drink in the worst way.
I decided to risk appealing to my leather-clad tormentor again. Perhaps he was inclined to be more forgiving of transgressions of his rules now that he had failed to take adequate care of me. I rolled my head over and waited until I could catch his eye. When he did look at my face, I wiggled the tip of my tongue around to show how dry it was.
He watched my tongue dance for him, but he didn't get the message. I tried to talk but my throat was so dry all I could do was make a hoarse breathing noise. It sounded like wind blowing through dry leaves.
Finally he got the point. He looked around the table at the collection of full milk-bottles and calculated that I had put out a goodly percentage of my bodily fluids and I needed refreshment. Fortunately he seemed prepared for this. He slipped the rod out of my tongue so I could withdraw it into my mouth. Then he reached under the table and came up with a length of plastic tubing that he poked into my mouth through the ring gag.
I wondered how he expected me to be able to suck on the tube without being able to close my mouth. I was trying to illustrate my difficulty by waving my recently freed tongue around when he slid the drinking tube through the hole in my tongue and poked it against the roof of my mouth. Reflexively, I clamped my tongue over the back of my throat. Of course, this did no good as far as keeping the tube out of my throat because it was already through my tongue, but it did tip me off as to how I could drink. With my tongue sealing my throat, I could suck on the tube. I tried it, and it worked like a charm. Water flowed through the tube and I swallowed greedily. It was another example of my captor's ingenuity that he had thought of this.
He must have had a big tank of water down there, because I sucked up at least a quart of it in no time at all. As fluid got into my system, I felt better. Shortly, the symptoms of dehydration went away and I only needed to suck in to replace what was being sucked out. Again, I relaxed and went back to being a contented cow.
Sometime later, I drifted back to reality when I heard the pump slow down. I was running dry and he was adjusting the suction accordingly. I watched him as he gauged my output against the pump's demand and gradually brought it to a halt. I felt drained, in both senses of the word, but wonderful. The knot of terror that had been growing in my middle had eased to a dull ache.
"Remarkable! Truly remarkable! You produced almost three quarts of milk. No other girl has even come close to this. Most of them, I am sad to say, could not provide even a single drop. Of milk, that is. Those who failed were still required to provide a pint of blood. I used to require more, but I discovered that taking more than a pint made them less responsive to the other treatments."
After removing the plastic funnels, he carefully wiped off the grease with a damp cloth. The sensation of the cloth on my engorged nipples was awesome. From the incredible feeling of cold, I guessed that the cloth must have been soaked in alcohol. I rolled my watering eyes and took several shallow breaths while he attended to me.
Again, he misunderstood what was happening. "Oh, you like that, do you? You like having your nipples rubbed? Well, I have something else that you might like even more." He chuckled happily as he went back to his table of gadgets. I thought I had never heard a more ominous sound than that chuckle.
He came back quickly with another prepared tray of instruments. I peered over at them and tried to guess what they were for. He saw me looking and held up one while he enthusiastically described what he was planning to do to me.
"You like jewelry? Of course you do. All girls like jewelry. Well, I am going to give you some nice jewelry as a reward for passing my test with such high marks." He held up a tiny silver bell about the size of my thumbnail. It was attached to a chain about an inch long. He shook it and it rang with a high clear note. Then he held up its twin and shook it as well.
I was just thinking how the two bells would make nice earrings when he picked up a clamping tool with a wicked-looking spike beside the jaws and took hold of my right nipple with his other hand. Apparently my ears were not going to be sporting the little bells after all.
If I could have squirmed I would have. The straps held me firmly and all I could do was watch helplessly as he rolled my nipple between his thumb and fingers, looking for the best spot to drive the spike. When he found it, he positioned the clamp and squeezed the handle.
The jaws pressed my nipple flat between them, crushing it so hard that I wanted to scream. I saw him looking at me expectantly and I figured that that was what he wanted, so I let loose with a loud one. At the height of my scream, he triggered the spike and it shot through my nipple so quickly that my scream cut off in shocked surprise. I was more surprised at how little it had actually hurt. I had expected terrible pain. What I got was a sharp stinging that was already fading into a dull throb.
He withdrew the spike and mopped up the few drops of blood that had oozed out before looping a rather large ring through the fresh hole and the end of one of the chains. He then put on a pair of dark goggles and picked up a small device that trailed a heavy electrical cord behind it. I barely had time to close my eyes before he touched it to the ring and, with a crackling noise and an intense flash of blue light, welded the ring closed. He removed the clamp and moved the bell around so I could see it dangling from the ring through my nipple.
I was so fascinated by my new pendant that I almost missed my cue when he pierced my other nipple. I had just opened my mouth and let out the briefest of squeaks before the deed was done. He attached the other bell and fused the ring closed the same way as he had done the first one and I was now the bearer of two permanent pieces of jewelry that would announce my presence whenever I moved.
He shook my breasts and we listened to the bells tinkling in harmony. I wondered how many of the other girls had been rewarded in this way. He had praised me for my performance as a dairy cow, so maybe he was being as nice to me as he had been horribly cruel to the others. I thought about what the penalty could have been for failing that test and my stomach lurched toward my mouth.
"And now, the next test. If you pass it, I will liberate you from the tyranny of the flesh," he announced, and I knew that the time for more unpleasant things was at hand. "Females have few advantages over males. By and large, you are smaller, weaker and more timid. Your physical frailty belies your inner strengths, however. You are by nature more ruthless and more vindictive than men. Few females are ever allowed to hold positions of power for this reason. A war waged by women would have no victor, only casualties.
"I believe that this difference in temperament is because of something that psychologists call penis-envy. I do not use this term in the traditional Freudian sense — Freud didn't grasp the true essence of the phenomenon. No, I mean that females have a basic flaw in their sexual configuration, one that limits their free expression of their sexuality and condemns them to a lifetime of envy of the male sex organs and all the neuroses and pathological psychoses that arise from those years of living with constrained genitals. Do you understand what I am saying?"
I didn't have clue-one what he was saying. Some of it almost made sense, but truly understanding it would mean having more insight into his warped mind than I really wanted. He was looking for some sort of response from me, however, and I was pretty sure that 'no' would be the wrong answer, and probably a punishable offense, so I nodded my head.
"Excellent! I'm so glad that you understand, since that is the final test, that you grasp the significance of what I am about to do for you. Now that you have passed all the tests with such high marks, you will now receive the prize. I will release you... not from these puny bonds, but from the bonds of the flesh. You will be a fully-realized sexual being for the first time in your life. You will be envied. You may even be the one who leads other members of her sex into the light of freedom after all these millennia of bondage." He was getting wound up again, but I still didn't know what the fuck he was going on about.
"I am gratified that you have chosen to undergo this transformation willingly. I must tell you that you are the very first one who ever participated to this extent. I have great hopes that your transmogrification, your conversion, your metamorphosis will be a great and marvelous turning point in your young life and that you will leave here with a new outlook.
"You know, it is indeed unfortunate that those who have undergone this change before you did not see it for the liberation that it is. It is my deepest regret that most of them disappointed me deeply and forced me to give them a failing mark — a rather permanent one, I'm afraid. Some of them did so poorly that it was necessary apply one of my irons in such a manner as to render them incapable of sexual arousal. Some of them never stopped screaming after that. But you won't do that will you? You're different; I can see that. I shall free you. I shall emancipate you and you will be perfect. You won't disappoint me. I know it."
I still had no idea what he was raving about, but his threat to burn off my clit if I failed to adequately appreciate what he was going to do to me was perfectly clear. He had already shown me that he was perfectly serious. However comical his behavior might be at times, I needed to remember that there were many girls who had been in my position who had not lived up to his warped expectations and who would spend the rest of their lives disfigured, sexless, and insane. Gail Adams' reaction to the details of what he had done to his other victims now seemed perfectly understandable.
I needed to keep focused on reacting properly, so I could get out of there with my clit and whatever remained of my sanity intact. I was prepared to do whatever it took to make him happy. His iron cock had had plenty of time to come back up to a cherry-red glow and if I failed to satisfy him in some way I could still find myself on the receiving end of its horrific affections.
The idea of making love to a foot-long dildo of red-hot iron still excited me tremendously, but I hoped that I had regained enough of my senses to see beyond the act and to grasp the full nature of consequences. Still, having been seduced into self-destruction once already by the opportunity to match my sexual heat against the infernal energy of the iron cock, I knew I would have to be on my guard if the chance were offered again. I realized that Bambi had been quite right to warn me about the danger of turning into a pain-slut. At the time, it seemed absurd to think that I would ever willingly put myself at risk like that. Now, I had stared into the face of the beast and discovered that I could be weak enough to surrender willingly, even eagerly, if I were offered an experience that promised enough mind-shattering stimulation. I knew then that I was a sensation-junkie, and it was quite possible for me to overdose on it.
The man fiddled with the table some more, and raised the back to a reclining, rather than prone position. Then he elevated my knees, so I was held in a tilted chair. He cranked the legs further apart, until my legs were so widely spread that the tendons were pulled tight and they protested with pain. He produced a small pillow, which he placed behind my head. If it was meant to be comfortable, it missed the mark. My neck was bent so that I was forced to look down my body. My breasts were in the way, as usual, but I could still see through the narrow gap between them, although the view was only of my groin.