Betsy is a remarkable woman. Five foot three inches tall with a very attractive 36-24-35 figure, shoulder-length auburn hair, and emerald green eyes, she is quite fetching. But beneath those looks lies the heart of a true submissive. And that is what I find most attractive in her.

Betsy has been my slutslave for about two and a half years now and she is wonderful. She came to me because her husband is as vanilla as they come and wouldn't even entertain the idea of any kind of sex except the standard missionary position. He won't allow any kind of foreplay except for kissing and a little high school-like petting... the man won't even allow her to suck his cock, because he views it as sick and perverted that she should put something he pisses through in her mouth!

And so, with a fire burning in her soul, she set out to find something she lacked. She loved her husband and still does, but a woman with needs is a hard force to reckon with! There was something she lacked - an unseen hunger that she needed to fill before it drove her crazy. She didn't know what it was she was missing, only that she didn't feel complete... like a jigsaw puzzle with a couple pieces gone.

Recently, an event occured in Betsy's life that gave an added spark to our relationship as well. Betsy and her husband recently became parents for the first time and during her pregnancy, I took care not to do anything that might cause problems with her pregnancy or the baby. At first it was not a problem, but as she got further along, we had to curtail some of her responsibilities and activities until finally she just came over to talk and discuss BDSM matters. She would apologize profusely about not being able to serve me properly, but I always brushed it aside, telling her that it is okay and that she would make up for it when she was able to serve me again.

The baby came and Betsy was so happy to be a mommy. I understood that she didn't come by for a month or so after the baby - she had responsibilities that needed her attention. But then one evening she stopped by the house. It was good to see her and she was happy to see me. But she had a problem that she hoped I could help her with.

"Hello Master," she said, as I opened the door.

"Well, hello Betsy! What a nice surprise. Come on in," I said. She came in and I took her into the living room so we could be more comfortable. "Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, Master, but please let me get it!" she said, getting up. Before I could stop her, she had rushed off to the kitchen to get us our drinks. She came back only a moment or so later with a drink in each hand. Setting her drink down as she passed the couch, she came over in front of me and knelt between my legs.

"Here you are Master, a Jack Daniels and Coke, just like you like it," she said, smiling and offering it up to me. "I am having just straight Coke, obviously." I took the drink and sipped it to taste it. It was perfect and I smiled back at her.

"Thank you. It is delicious," I said.

"I'm so glad. Master, I am so sorry I have not been more attentive lately. I will make it up to you, Master. I will be the best submissive you have ever seen!" she said, looking up at me. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could see the glint of a tear welling up in her eye.

"Come up here," I said, patting my thigh. She rose and climbed onto my lap as I indicated, straddling my legs and facing me.

"My sweet little slut, I am not worried about your lack of service. I understand that you have had other duties and responsibilities to concern yourself over. I knew that as soon as you could, you would come back to me. I had no doubts about that," I explained.

"Thank you, Master. For waiting for me and for believing in me," she said, laying her head on my shoulder.

I let her sit there for a few minutes. Truth be told, I was happy to have her back with me as well. I enjoyed feeling her soft warmth close to me and the sweet smell of her perfumed hair. But having her squatting on my lap was making my cock anxious, knowing that within just a few thin layers of clothing, heaven awaited. And he was ready to play!

"So my little slut, was that all you came here for? Just to say that you miss me and apologize?" I asked.

"Well, I wasn't sure if you wanted me to..." she started to say.

"And why wouldn't I want you to serve me?" I finished her sentence.

"I don't know, Master. I thought you might be mad at me," she said, lowering her eyes.

"Well my slut, now you know better. I am not mad at you at all. I am glad that you came by to see me," I said.

"I am too Master," she said.

"Now get up and let's see if we can find something for you to do," I said. Betsy rose and got up off my lap standing with her hands behind her back.

"Master if it's all right with you, please can you not play with my breasts today? They are very sore," she said.

"Oh? Is that baby hard on your nipples?" I asked.

"Actually, Master, I am not breastfeeding. I found out that the baby is allergic to my milk. That's the problem... my poor breasts are so full! Normally I just pump it out, but my pump broke the other day and I haven't been able to get a new one yet. I have an old one for backup, but it isn't very good. I don't know what I'm going to do if I can't find a new pump. My breasts are already sore and I keep producing milk!" she said.

"I see. Yes you do have a problem," I told her. "I hope you find a pump soon - your tits are one of my favorite things to play with, and having them sore and full of milk makes it difficult to enjoy them!"

"Master would you mind... I mean since you've seen me naked... would you milk them for me and take some of the pressure off of them? My husband did it the other day, but he isn't real comfortable or real good at it and they are so very sore!" she asked.

I could tell she was serious. Betsy was always full-chested, but with her tits so full of milk, they stretched the front of her white tank top until the fabric seemed to be ready to rip apart.

"Take off your top and show me how to milk you then," I said. Betsy quickly took off her top while I went to get something to catch the milk. I returned with a pitcher from the kitchen and I sat down in my chair. I placed one of the kitchen chairs down in front of me so she could sit down.

"Okay, how do you milk them?" I asked. Betsy took the pitcher from me and put it under one of the heavy pendulous globes and, with her free hand, showed me how to force the milk from her breast.

"See, you just gently squeeze just above the nipple and pull it a little, the milk squirts out!"

I took hold of one of Betsy's nipples willing to give it a try and, using the same technique she had just demonstrated to me, began extracting the milk from her breast.

"Hey," I said, "This is pretty easy, look at how much we've gotten already."

Betsy leaned back in the chair and relaxed while I worked on her breasts.

Every so often as I continued milking her I would ask, "Am I hurting you?" wanting to make sure that everything was okay.

"Oh no Master," she replied, "your fingers feel just wonderful, even better than that old breast pump!"

I kept on milking my slut, watching as her expression changed from the stressed one she came to me with, to one of relaxed pleasure... like you would see from a woman being treated in a fine spa. I alternated from one breast to the other, giving each one a rest from the constant squeezing and pulling.

I was just about to ask her how she was feeling and how much more milk she needed to express when I heard the unmistakable sound of a woman who was sexually excited! My slut made a soft moan and unconsciously pressed her thighs together, sure indicators that she was highly aroused!

Naturally, this gave me a devilish idea...

"I want you to finger yourself, slut while I milk you," I told her. That snapped her back to reality and she looked at me as if confirming I was talking to her. "Do it now."

"Yes, Master," she said, blushing a bit. She stood up and slipped off the short black skirt she had worn over to my house. She knew how I felt about her wearing panties and wasn't wearing any. She took her place back on the chair and spread her legs wide, hooking them over the edges of the seat while I resumed my work on her tits.

Betsy began by slowly rubbing her fingers across her clit lightly. I had taught her that no matter how bad she needed to cum, she was to ask before she came unless I had given her prior permission. And it had been awhile since our last session so she didn't want to rush things. As I tugged and teased her sensitive nipples, her hand started working her already wet pussy.

"Ohhh..." she mewled as her fingers began getting soaked and her passion fires began to flare.

"Does this feel good, slut? Do you like the way I am milking your tits while you play with that dirty slut pussy?" I asked her in a low growl. Betsy always got so turned on when I talked to her like this.

"Oh God yes, Master... soo good..." she moaned her response. Her hand began to move faster across her throbbing clit, making small circles as she rubbed the sensitive bud a bit harder now. She closed her eyes and laid her head on the back of the chair, her mouth open and her breath coming in short panting gasps.

"Is that naughty little pussy wet for me, slut?" I asked.

"Yes, Master... so wet..." she moaned.

"Tell me, slut," I commanded. When Betsy first came to me she was very shy because her husband thought it improper for a woman to have an opinion of her own. He felt that as the wife, she should agree with and follow her husband's ideas and opinions. The very idea that a woman would engage in "dirty talk" or vocalize her feelings during sex was "not what nice girls do". Betsy's husband was both oppressive and regressive and had created an almost Geisha-like wife in Betsy. It took considerable work and making her talk dirty to get her to use the words I wanted her to use. And once I unleashed her and showed her the freedom that came with voicing herself, she became quite good at it! I made her tell me how she was feeling and what she wanted. I made her use the crudest language... after all, if she was going to be a slut, she needed to sound like one!

"Oh Master, my filthy pussy is so wet... and so hungry!" she moaned. Betsy spread her legs wider and I saw the muscles in those well-toned legs began to quiver as she got closer to her orgasm.

"Please, Master may I stick a finger inside?" she asked.

"You wish to fingerfuck yourself, slut?"

"Yes, Master, please..."

"Say it, then."

"Master, please may I fingerfuck myself?" she whimpered.

"Yes, now you can. But remember the rule about cumming without permission!" I warned her with a extra pinch of the nipple I had in my hand.

"Yes Master!" she gasped. With permission now obtained, Betsy used her two outside fingers to hold her pussy lips open while her two middle fingers slipped inside her wet slippery hole.

"ooooh..." Betsy cooed as her fingers sank slowly into her, deeper and deeper until she couldn't shove them in any further. She began sliding them in and out of her, rubbing her slickened fingers over her clit and then back down her warm tunnel again.

By now, I had pretty much emptied her heavy teats and couldn't get any more milk from them. But because she was getting so turned on, I kept toying with them, pinching and pulling on the hard nubs and rolling them between my fingers.

Betsy's hard, stiff nipples had always been a favorite plaything of mine and she enjoyed having them played with as well. They seemed as if they were wired directly to her pussy because as I would toy with them, her pussy would almost instantly get wet. I had never tried it, but I'll bet I could make her cum just by playing with those hard, crinkled little nipples alone!

Betsy arched her back a bit as I played with her nipples. She was well on her way to an enormous orgasm, wriggling in her chair as her fingers pumped in and out of her pussy, making wet squishy noises. She complimented those wet pussy sounds with her moans and gasps as she would send small lightning bolts of pure pleasure racing up her spine.

Sitting facing her and only a couple feet away, I could smell the desire and musky aroma of her sex clearly. I knew this woman well and I knew she was getting very close. It was time to bring her to the edge...

"You smell like a slut ready to cum. Are you a slut ready to cum?" I growled.

"Oh yes, Master! Please, please may I cum?" she groaned.

"Boy, you have been away too long! That was a pitiful display of begging! Now you'd better try a lot harder than that, slut, if you expect me to say yes," I said.

"Oh please, Master! Please may I cum. Oh god, I need to cum so much! Please, Master, please" she cried loudly. This time she sounded considerably more sincere.

"Okay then slut, Cum for me. Cum now!" I commanded.

"Ohhhhhffuuuuccckkkkk!!" Betsy screamed as she plunged off the precipice, "Ohmygod Master!! Ohhhh!"

I sat back and watched the show as my dirty little slut was washed away in the tidal waves of her orgasm. She writhed and twisted in her chair, tossing her head back and forth as she tried to sort out the sensations firing off inside it. Finally she relaxed, slumping down in the chair. She was covered in a glistening sheen of sweat and panting rapidly as she tried to calm down.

I let her be for awhile, watching her until she was back with me. "Are you back, slut?" I asked her as I saw her eyes flutter open and focus on me.

"Yes, Master," she said, giggling madly. "Thank you... for helping me and for this."

"You are welcome slut. I hope that this means you will start coming by regularly again," I said.

"Yes, Master. I will, I promise. I just thought that... well, that you didn't want me anymore," she said, lowering her eyes.

I reached out and lifted her chin. "Nonsense... I have missed you my little slut. I am glad you are back," I said, looking straight into her eyes.

"Me too, Master," she said, throwing her arms around my neck and kissing me passionately.

* * * * * * * * * *

We had made plans to meet again a couple days later.

Betsy's husband was going to be out of town on a business trip, and so she and I would have a chance to spend some time together.

"Hello, Master," she said, as I opened the door. She was standing there looking very fine today - not like the previous meeting. The last time I saw her, she wasn't sure if we were going to continue seeing each other. Now that she knew I still wanted her, she had gotten herself all dolled up for me and she was looking delicious!

"Come in," I said, holding the door open for her. I helped her inside and took her coat. I walked with her into the living room and we sat on the couch together.

"How are you feeling today?" I asked.

"Oh, I was able to find a new pump and it works good. But I... I kinda liked the way you did it last time so... I haven't pumped yet today. I hope that's okay, Master," she said, blushing.

"Well I was prepared to help you today if you hadn't found a pump. I have some friends who have goats. They have let me borrow one of their portable machines. Since your baby can't drink your milk, that won't be an issue," I told her.

"Oh my! Is it safe? I mean is it clean?" she asked.

"My dear, I am your Master. My primary responsibility is your safety and well-being and I take both very seriously. I have discussed using this pump on you and I have been assured that it is safe, both hygienically and mechanically. I have some alcohol wipes to clean the suction tubes and I will be present the whole time in case anything should go wrong. I won't let anything happen to you," I said, reassuringly.

"Thank you Master, for looking out for me so well. I trust you completely," she said.

With that settled, I had her get us both a drink. Another nice thing about having a baby on formula is that she was able to enjoy a drink once in awhile. Of course I didn't let her overdo it - neither of us got anything more than a warm glow when we had a session. Just enough to help us relax, but nothing more. Betsy went into the kitchen and fixed our drinks and we sat there on the couch enjoying them.

As we sat there with our drinks in hand, I took in the beauty next to me.

"You are looking quite lovely tonight, slut," I said.

Betsy blushed the most delightful shade of red and lowered her eyes. "Thank you, Master, I'm glad you are pleased. I picked this out especially for you... you know, to make up for being so disrespectful in not coming to see you," she said, softly.

"I told you the other day that I wasn't mad at you and not to worry yourself over it."

"I know, Master but I still feel bad for neglecting you. I want to be the best submissive I can be for you," she said.

"Stand up then," I told her. Betsy stood instantly, her soft red lips curling into a sweet happy smile.

Betsy had worn a very sexy black imitation-leather haltertop minidress, with an open back down to just where her back began the flare to her plump round ass, and the front plunged brazenly down to just above her belly button. Her full round tits showed their cleavage prominently in the front and the sides were scooped so part of those globes showed on the sides as well. The dress fit her like a second skin, so tight that had it been cold, I would have seen the goosebumps through the material! It amazed me how the girl could breath in the outfit, much less sit down!

Sitting on the couch, I reached out and placed my hands on her well-defined hips and pulled her a step or two closer. I could smell her excitement as it began to grow and I could feel the heat coming off of her. I slid my hands down her sides until I reached the hem of her very short minidress and felt her smooth creamy thighs.

Betsy gasped as my hands touched her bare legs and I stopped there momentarily. Betsy, her head swimming now with lust, trembled as I slid her dress up to her waist. The dress was so tight that once it got to her waist, it stayed up on its own, freeing my hands to lightly caress the insides of her thighs.

Betsy's pussy was a clean-shaven, just the way I taught her to keep it. Plump lips sat in the middle of the slit like a flower just beginning to bloom. The musky aroma of wet pussy that emanated from her filled my nostrils, which of course had the immediate effect of turning my cock into a steel rod.

"Are you wet, slut?" I asked her. I could already see the dampness starting to ooze from her pussy, but making her admit her condition would fan her fire.

"Oh yes, Master... I'm so wet... my pussy is so wet for you," the big tittied slut moaned again, spreading her legs wide, and asked in a pleading voice, "Please, Master, do me now, please do me now!"

I traced my finger around the outside of her dripping pussy while savoring the sweet smell of my aroused slut. Betsy, meanwhile, squirmed her ass around, trying in vain to get me to make contact with her protruding clit... something I avoided doing, much to her dismay! I teased her for a few moments more, before burying my tongue deep into her warm, wet canal, and the instant my tongue made contact with her throbbing clit, she arched her back, took her huge milky chest in her hands, and seconds later was engulfed by a shattering orgasm!

"Ohhhhfuuucck Master! Ohhhhh," she screamed as her dam burst. I bored in hard, making her wild ride last for as long as I could stretch it out before I took my mouth off of her split wide apart organ.

She stood there in front of me, her legs quaking and pussy juice leaking from her as she braced herself by putting her hands on my shoulders. As the final waves of her orgasm dissipated her breathing returned to normal and her pulse slowed.

"Feeling better, my little slut?" I asked her when I was sure she could answer.

"Yesss, Master..." she said, still in a slightly dreamy state, "Thank you..."

I helped her to sit down for a couple more minutes until her head completely cleared. Then I brought the portable goat milking machine into the living room and let her look it over. The machine consisted of a small aluminum box with a vacuum gauge, a power light and switch on the front. Inside was a small electric vacuum pump and coming from the sides were two clear rubber hoses leading up to a pair of milk collecting suction tubes.

Betsy watched with interest as I got the machine set up. Once everything was ready, I turned my attention to my curious slut. "Okay slut, it's time to milk those big swollen tits. Take off that sexy little dress - we don't want to mess it up!" I said, grinning wickedly.

"Yes, Master," she said, smiling broadly. I think she was as eager to see the machine in action as I was! She did as I ordered, unfastening the catch behind her neck that held the haltertop together and slipping the tight dress over her curvaceous form. As the dress slipped past her hips and puddled around her delicate ankles, I helped her step out of the tangle of fabric, still wearing her shiny, bejeweled, CFM shoes.

"Now up on the coffee table on your hands and knees so we can get started," I said. The granite top of the heavy, wrought-iron coffee table would be hard on my slut's knees, so I placed one of the couch cushions on the table for her to kneel on. Then she got into position, her heavy milk-laden tits hanging below her as she knelt on the table.

Using a little K-Y, I greased up the suction tubes and squatted down in front of her to attach them to her breasts, surrounding her nipples and areola. The tubes themselves were about an inch and a half in diameter, with thick rounded edges to keep from slicing into the skin. They weren't as big as the ones normally used on cows, because this was designed to milk goats. Plus her breasts were a lot firmer than a cow's udders.

The suction tubes adhered right away, held on by the strong vacuum effect. It wasn't a steady sucking, either. A vacuum held them on, while a stronger vacuum pulsed slowly, milking each teat with an extra pull, alternating between the right and left. Betsy squealed as the vacuum started and immediately received a swat across her ass for her troubles. She settled down, accepting what was happening to her. Betsy closed her eyes, fighting back the humiliation of being milked like an animal!

Any anxiety she may have had about her degrading position however, was quickly wiped away as the unrelenting sucking on her incredibly sensitive nipples set her breasts on fire with raging desire.

"Ohhhh, god... this feels wonderful..." Betsy moaned, just barely above a whisper.

Every stroke of the device's engine brought her a step closer to a precipice of her orgasm. Every tug on her nipples, every space between sucks, every small amount of her tender breast flesh that was pulled into the tube, was sheer torturous pleasure.

But Betsy didn't protest. Even when her nipples burned and her mind reeled with the sensations flooding it. Even with the infernal machine shuff, shuff, shuffing, the tubes quaking with the pressure, her breasts being milked like udders, she could have said no. And I would have immediately released her. She knew her safeword and she trusted that if she had to use it, I would instantly respond and stop whatever we were doing and free her.

Betsy knelt there on the table, panting as the milking machine tortured her dangling tits. Whimpering and softly swaying back and forth as her pussy drooled with anticipation and excitement. She was such a lovely sight.

My beautiful slut had just gotten to a point where she could process the sensations that she was going through and had settled into a comfortable level, when I increased her suffering and distress.

Without warning, I twisted the control knob on the milking machine, increasing the rate of suction a couple levels. Betsy gasped, writhed and cried out over and over as the stimulation reverberated through her, in a sensation of pure pleasure that caused her hands to curl involuntarily into fists, her red nails digging into her palms. Adding to the machine's actions, I took my crop and began slapping her ass, tits and pussy. She didn't even feel the pain, though, she was so completely engulfed in her own lascivious desires.

"Ohhh fuck! Oh my god, Master! Ohhhh..." Betsy moaned louder now as the machine worked her tits.

Betsy was gasping and writhing and shuddering on the table as the devilish machine sucked the last drops of mother's milk from her abused tits. She was moaning and whimpering, her naked body glistening with a sheen of sweat from all the exertion. It was all very erotic and I have to admit, I was hard enough to punch a hole in a brick wall!

I rose from my seat and moved around behind her. Picking up a long stick which I had attached a big black dildo and a wand type vibrator, I placed the tip of the jelly dildo at her slick pussy opening and forced it deep into her tight, contracted pussy. Once it was fully in and the vibrator was nestled up against her throbbing clit, I flicked the switch to turn on the vibrator.

Betsy squealed with pleasure as the new sensation rocketed to her lust-addled brain. I began sliding the dildo-stick in and out of her making sure each time the dildo went deep enough inside her slippery tunel to cause the vibrator to press against her clit. Each time it did, Betsy squealed again, almost beside herself with pleasure.

My slut's torment continued. Betsy was panting and gasping and squealing almost continuously now, fucked in the pussy by the dildo/vibrator and sucked on the tits by a mechanical milker. Sweat dripped from her naked trembling body, splattering on the coffee table and mixing with the juices that dripped from her suffed pussy. Her body ached from the constant unending stimulation, craving her sweet release.

"Ohh, Master, please... pleeeease!" Betsy begged. But I paid no mind. I had an agenda and I was going to meet my goal.

I twisted the dial once again and everything sped up. The timing of the suction torturing her tits. The speed of the dildo pounding her pussy. And the rasping of her breath as she panted furiously, her lungs screaming for air. Finally, when she felt about to go mad with frustration, the dam broke. Betsy screamed like a woman in a horror movie as the orgasm ripped through her, turning her insides to jelly and her pussy into a molten pool of steaming sauce. Betsy squirted, for the first time in her life, as the world collapsed around her and the force of her orgasm could no longer be contained.

"Ohhffuucckk! Ohhhhh shiiit! Ohhmygod, ohhmygod!" Betsy screamed as her orgasm shattered her mind.

Betsy screamed and screamed until she was hoarse, cumming again and again and again, each new contraction of her pussy on that thing inside her causing another breaker to roll over and crash into her. The milking machine continued its work through her orgasm as did the vibrator despite her twisting and contortions to try to rid herself of them both. Betsy somehow held on to the fact that if she fell or got off the table she would be punished so she fought through the urge.

Finally, Betsy collapsed on the table, the cool granite feeling so wonderful against her overheated body. I mercifully turned off the milking machine. Betsy's poor nipples and tits were distended and flaming red when I removed the tubes. They hurt to touch or even when she moved. When I removed the dildo and showed it to her, she was amazed at its size and girth. She had been well and truly fucked and she raised her head and looked at me through sweat-matted hair, smiling.

"Thank you, Master, for using your slut so well," she whispered, hoarse from her screaming.

"You did wonderful, my little slut. Now be quiet and rest. You earned it," I told her gently stroking her hair.

The above story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and events in it are products of the author’s imagination and are used as fantasy. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All characters portrayed in this story are over sixteen (16) years of age.