I was a student in a quiet town in the South of England, trying to pay my bills like everyone else, when I saw the advert in the local 'Free Ads' paper, one of those things that drops though your door and you put straight in the bin.
'Cult needs sexually liberal girl for midsummer ceremony.'
Cult? I had visions of men in saffron robes banging drums and chanting. I wondered if they wanted nubile girls in transparent robes standing around whilst they ate lentils or something. I suppose more than anything I thought it was a joke. Well, wouldn't you? This was Kent in 2019, not medieval Winchester. Of course, I secretly ALSO hoped it might be a turn-on, you know, Druids and stuff. I liked Game of Thrones. I loved all the fucking from behind. I thought there might be a bit of a role play. And so... I applied.
I wrote 'My name is Lucy Lay and I have always wanted to join a sexy cult. I have blonde hair, nearly to my waist, and I have 32DD breasts. I have very pale blonde pubic hair and a small emerald in my belly button. I am also a virgin when it comes to the ass, but I love to suck.' I thought very hard about adding the last bit and then I wrote, 'and if you suck my teats really hard, milk comes out.'
I had just finished doing my last exam when I got the call up. And it's maths, my Uni subject, since you ask. I'm a bit of a nerd. I've dated a few boys - mathematicians like me - but I've always been too shy to really tell them what to do with their cocks, so although I've lain there as they thrust into me, plunging their hot dicks into my pussy almost before I've lifted my hips, pounding into me, banging like hungry piston engines in a great rush of lust and cum, leaving me fantasising about sucking them and riding them, and taking two at a time. I've never done it, taken the lead and demanding my way. Instead I've lain there as they fucked me joyfully but inexpertly, grabbing my tits as if they were pies and fucking my tight wet passage as if I was target practice.
I've never let them suck my teats. They wanted to, and I stopped them. I was worried they wouldn't like it when they knew I could make milk there, but I longed for my teats to be sucked. I ached for it.
I had resorted to secret porn, and I had a really nice technique with my finger, fuelled by a recurring fantasy in which two men with masks on pushed me to the ground, held me down and started, with gentle urgency, to suckle on my two soft fat nipples, drawing them between their lips, licking and sucking in a gorgeous rhythm that never ended, suckling on me, kneading me, milking me as if I was a little cow.
The advert asked for a sexy picture of me and I had taken one with my phone, just of my right nipple. It's a rather luscious plump nipple, on a small firm breast. The teat on the end is fat, pink and soft, but when you rub it between your fingers it goes hard, like a little rock. I rub it between my fingers a lot. Once on a bus late at night I let an old man rub it between his fingers. I pretended not to like it, kept begging him to stop, but he played with it all the way to Hastings. That's where I got off. Not literally, sadly. I really needed to pleasure myself after that, I can tell you, but I knew it was risky.
The phone call, when it came, told me that if that was my nipple, in the photo, then they were looking forward to meeting me. It was made clear that if there really was milk then they would pay me twenty thousand pounds for the night. The milk, they said, had special qualities for this particular kind of ceremony. They had been looking for a girl like me for a long time.
I went to a house on the edge of Hastings, a rather smart and beautiful house actually. I came to know it well. A tall, dark, Victorian house, expensively decorated, with plush Persian carpets and fabulous antique stuff everywhere. Downstairs, though, the cellar had been converted into one room, decorated and panelled like a hall, painted all in burgundy and dark blue, with occult symbols on the wall and a wonderful kind of raised bed thing in the middle. I was to be auditioned.
The eldest of the two, who I'd say sounded about as old as my Dad, said 'Strip,' and so I did.
He was wearing Klu Klux Klan style headgear. I heard them murmur approval as they saw my high pert tits, my flat stomach, my shaved pussy with the fat, hidden clit.
They had me down on their table thing, and spread my legs, and they ordered me to masturbate, and I did it beautifully. Slow, fast, slow, fast, my fingers playing with my hot little pussy, my clit a swollen know for them to watch and enjoy as I teased and rubbed, squeezed and stroked, until eventually I could resist it no longer and went into a full frantic rubbing that saw me shuddering and cumming, my internal spasms seeming to pull everything tight inside as I orgasmed as publicly as I ever have. I could tell they liked it.
Then they asked to see the milk. It was easy because I had cum. Not taking my eyes off them I worked my left teat, and then my right, squirting little jets of milk fluid to demonstrate my kinky skill.
I got the job immediately. They told me straight away. I was to present myself at 11pm on midsummer eve. It was a rejuvenation ceremony for them. The money would be paid half up front and half immediately after. There were various safety provisions to make me feel secure. I was to wear white.
I could hardly wait till midsummer eve. I bought a cheap white dress, thinking they would rip it from me. I oiled myself. I didn't milk my teats for 24 hours, as I wanted as much milk as possible. They had explained to me - they were all over seventy. They had a book. In it was a ceremony of rejuvenation that required a girl who loved cocks, mother's milk and midsummer eve. It was worth twenty thousand pounds to find out if it worked.
And so I arrived at 11, heady with anticipation, perfumed and ready, I'd even done enemas as I knew they wanted everything. I was, in truth, shaking with lust before I was even through the door. If I don't milk my tits I get very horny. There was a doorman looking at me kinkily and I thought if these guys couldn't perform, in the end, I might suck his cock and milk his balls whilst he fed off me like a lecher. I had no idea!
They were all waiting for me. We had drinks together, me and ten old men, some fat, some slim... All wearing Klu Klux Klan hoods. They were charming. There were canapes and champagne but I had a couple of margaritas. We talked for about half an hour as anybody might - who I was, what I did for a living, how I'd come to discover I made milk from my tits...
I explained how I loved to play with them, always had, and had discovered it by accident, had read about it, seen the doctor who did tests and then said that if it didn't bother me it didn't matter as some normal women do this. And he said, if you don't milk it, it will get less, but if you keep milking it, you get more...'
And I asked him how to milk it and he showed me, working my tits expertly with his thumbs till I gasped, then sent me away, oblivious, and called in his next patient. I had to masturbate in the surgery toilet. My clit was so huge I couldn't walk. That's how I found out, I told them.
I could see they were thrilled. The book said, they told me, that if they followed the ceremony they would be, physically, twenty years younger at the very least. So here they all were.
There were candles lit all round the room, and chanting music was playing. As we sipped our drinks together they took off my clothes, as if that was entirely normal, and I stood amongst them, horny, naked and exposed and they made small talk about my beautiful cunt and fingered my teats in admiration. Someone said 'the high priest must cum in her first but we are to play and prepare.' I was wet and horny, longing for the fucking to begin. I wanted to be played and prepared..
Eventually, as we chatted, one of them men came up to me, took my right tit in his hand, lowered his mouth to my teat and began to suckle on me like a baby. I moaned and arched, and felt him slip a questing finger into my pussy, parting my sticky lips and feeling my slit. I was wet and swollen with anticipation, and now slightly drunk too. I started to fall over, and hands caught me expertly and lifted me onto the raised table, which was draped with midnight blue silk. I heard a voice say,
'The slut is wet... We will prepare her.'
And everyone moved.
I was lifted, on my back, on the table. Eight men surrounded me now.
We had all had Viagra, including me, although as though took it they joked they wouldn't need it again, after this. I love it, it gives me multiple orgasms. I wanted to enjoy this.
Now there were only eight men in the room, and the hoods were gone, they were naked apart from black eye masks. I still didn't think I recognised any of them.
They weren't wearing anything else. Their cocks half hung, half stood, proud and beautiful, some small, some large, some long, some short. I wanted to kneel and begin but, weirdly, I was too shy. I needed to be told what to do.
And then chanting began. There was lots about rejuvenation, about me being a worthy receptacle, about masters and slaves ... and as they chanted they stroked me and teased me, my tits, my pussy, my arse. Fingers pushed into my mouth and I sucked them gratefully...I could feel my clit throbbing. Twenty thousand pounds too. This was wonderful... My hand slipped towards my pussy...
'Not so fast, girl...' And then I was gripped and held down.
'Do you accept the rite of the Brotherhood of Rejuvenators?'
I had learned the script. I had been given it in advance. 'I do Masters.'
