The Bank 4

Authors note:

This story is a small look into my lovely little twisted head. I've covered the gamut of my infatuations in these pages, but certainly not all of them to full conclusions. This story DOES NOT contain blood/gore/death, scat, or bestiality. It DOES contain some heavy bdsm and forced lactation, as well as both MALE and FEMALE slaves (albeit with the story heavily slanted towards the female slave side), and a teeny tiny bit of watersports play. As one of the main themes is lactation, many, but not all (I wouldn't leave out you lithe body lovers! I like em too!) of the "cows" are fuller figured women, of all races, and have obscenely proportioned boobs. If reviews are positive, I fully plan on adding more, and continuing the series. I've written this with a heavy focus on sex and bondage, and while their is character development, you won't find this an in-depth study of the female mind, nor overly long non-sexual scenes. Think of it as more like written porn, and we will be golden. Feedback is much appreciated. If enough feedback is received, I will gladly take polls on who likes what and who about my tale. Ideas/suggestions are always appreciated, such as expounding on a secondary character or pursing a particular fetish. I hope you all enjoy the read!

The Bank

A New "Recruit" is found

It was a sunny, midday afternoon in Los Angles, California. A slight breeze swept the busy city, weaving its way through car, trees, buildings, and people alike. A touch warmer than usual for the spring weather of early May at a sweltering 87 degrees Fahrenheit, it made for a stark contrast to the dimly lit, air conditioned room occupied by several expensively dressed men and women. All were watching a group of computer monitors playing several angles of live feed from hidden cameras around the target being viewed.

"This subject will fit deliciously with our program, don't you agree Ms. Chase?" said one chiseled Asian man of almost 6 feet in fine black suit. "Yes sir, I do Mr. Okata," replied a lithe woman of African-American descent. Her 5'7" frame was wrapped elegantly in a form fitting red dress, with a deep V cut into the front, hinting at her firm C cup breasts. Flowing down her body, it hugged her apple bottom rear, showing its ample shape well. Mr. Okata turned to another man of African descent. "Mr. Dixon, where did you discover this lovely gem?" The tall, barrel-chested man turned in his chair and replied in his deep voice, "Random chance on this one, not on our usual grid or contact lists. I have to say, I cannot take credit for this one, Mr. Sloan is responsible for this lovely specimen." All eyes turned his way. Mr. Sloan, a tall Caucasian man, with a slimmer build than Mr. Dixon, spoke smoothly. "I actually ran into this one in the real world, while doing some quick shopping. This one showed promise. Well endowed, single, seems to be fairly introverted, possibly due to her 'condition'." "What condition is that, Mr. Sloan?", replied Mr. Okata, with a look of concern on his face. Sloan responded, "Well, just watch the feed and see..."

Samantha Blake was alone in her apartment near downtown LA. The neighborhood was fairly nice, not too affluent, but well enough to pay the police to keep the street gangs and crime out of the area. She was sitting on her bad, facing her new, large mirror – the third one this year: she smashed the previous ones. Wrapped in a white towel, her milk chocolate skin was a stark, beautiful contrast to it. Holding her head in her hands, she cried for the 2nd time that day. It had been over two years since her husband, an up and coming corporate lawyer, had left her, blaming her for the loss of their unborn son. She had been pregnant, but miscarried. The fact that it was due to her loving husband abusing her almost daily for whatever he chose was apparently lost on him. The loss of both made for a difficult time for Samantha for a long while. Mostly through the healing process, today's bout of crying was brought on by yet another man leaving her, citing reasons that she knew weren't true. She slowly stood up, dropping her towel, and looked at the body that she thought was driving men away from her. Samantha stood at a slight 5' 5" tall, a bit chubby, but firm nonetheless. No folds or odd sagging flesh. Her butt was just right, not too wide, but not a skinny white girl ass either. It was round and sumptuous, to be sure. She measured 38-28-36, not too bad for a woman that had gone through all she had, but it disgusted her. What really did it in were her massive 38HH breasts. Swaying almost 10 inches outward from the base of her chest, they were firm to the touch from her relative youth, yet gave way to softness when pressed. The enormous weight of her breasts pulled them down her ribcage, ending slightly below them, just touching her tummy. What made it worse was her condition, one that baffled doctors and had no cure. Ever since her pregnancy, she produced milk. Not just a little, but her udder-like breasts held their weight of the white fluid, causing her thick, dark, nickel-width nipples to constantly be hard, elongating them to ¾ inch and leak milk profusely and drip down her 2 inch diameter areola's. Her constant state of milk production seemed to have its affect elsewhere, as her pussy was constantly wet, necessitating her to wear absorbent liners in her panties at all times. Her elevated sense of arousal was heightened by her extremely sensitive clit. When engorged, it stuck out from under its hood, and even the smallest amount of friction could set her off, occasionally her detriment in workplace meetings. Her dates would see this and think her to be a slut or weird or whatever. Things never want very far for her in relationships and sex was a thing of the past. Unbeknownst to her, all of this was being recorded by the hidden cameras operated via remote control from a innocent looking repair van parked outside her apartment complex, and transmitted to the dim office room holding the well-dressed voyeurs. "Well, Mr. Okata, what shall we do?" asked Ms. Chase. "We take her tonight." Was the answer. Mr. Sloan spoke into a microphone. "The order is go, take her while she sleeps."

Samantha came home after her day at work, walking by the repair van that she seemed to remember noticing earlier that day, and perhaps several days this week as well. Mildly curious, but taking no further thought, she entered her house. Several hours later, she ended up in bed, wrapping her breasts in a towel as to not wet the bed with her milk, as had happened in the past. Soon she was under the covers, and fell asleep.

Under the watchful eye of the hidden cameras placed around her apart, prying eyes spied upon her. Once it was confirmed that she was sound asleep, the observation team in the disguised comms truck moved in. Stealthily, the team of four men approached her door. "Sir, do we have permission to take the target?" one said into his mic. "You have a green light, Alpha team," replied Mr. Sloan. "Take the target." With that said, the men quickly went into action. One man picked the lock, and they moved in. Approaching the sleeping target, another man pulled out an injection gun, pressed it against Samantha's skin, and fired. The sting awoke her briefly, and her eyes flared wide as she saw the blurry images of men standing over her. Before she could even utter a sound, the sleeping agent coursed through her veins, and she was knocked out. The men scooped her up, and carried her down to the van, which sped off into the night.

Samantha awoke slowly, with a groggy feeling in her head. She was lying on a cot, one of two in the room. A single fluorescent tube was imbedded in the ceiling. The walls were concrete, as was the floor. As her eyes focused again, she sat up. Once up, she realized that she was completely naked. Instinctively, she crossed her arms as best she could over her massive brown breasts. Fear rapidly overtook her and she began hyperventilating. "Where am I?!" she thought to herself. The sound of her own voice inside her head reverberated like a shot. Still cloudy from the drugs effects, she managed to heave herself aloft as panic washed over her like a tidal wave. She screamed at the top of her lungs, begging, pleading for anyone to release her. She swore at the prison cell that held her captive, cursing her unknown assailants. Racing to the door, she beat it with what little strength she could muster, but it was of no use. The clear, Plexiglas door held firm. For endless minutes she screamed, yelled, and clawed, desperately seeking release, yet finding none. She sank back to her small cot, and huddled in the corner, Sam cried in shame and despair. For over an hour she sat, curled into the smallest ball she could, sobbing woefully at her situation, until a restless sleep overcame her once more.

Waking up a short time later, Sam realized this was not a horrid nightmare, but reality. With that in mind, she decided to take stock of her current surroundings. Looking down to the cot, she saw wet stains, and knew it was from her tit milk. Upon that revelation, she realized that a dull ache was growing inside her breasts, and knew that she was overdue to express her swollen glands. Farther down her smooth, chocolate body, she saw her leg was manacled to a leg of the cot, and the cot itself was bolted securely to the floor. She tugged on it briefly, quickly realizing there was no breaking the bond. At the front of the room, the door was transparent. Getting up, Samantha decided to test the see through panel. With one arm still across her heavy breasts, she walked over to the door. Peering outside, she saw a hallway that extended far to the right and the left. It seemed to be some type of holding block, much like that of a prison. The hallway was well lit by fluorescent lights, and held identical doors to the one she was trapped behind, they seemed to be unoccupied at the moment. She noticed electronic locks on the outside, needing a key card to open it. Samantha stared off into space. "Why am I here? Why have these people captured me? Is anyone looking for me?" she spoke softly to herself, as tears began flowing down her cheeks. She sobbed for several minutes, until the sounds of heavy footsteps crashing down the hallway tore her eyes upward and towards the door.

Three men appeared, dressed in military style uniforms, but wore no decorations showing nationality. Well muscled and obviously disciplined, they opened the door swiftly. "Stand up, hands behind your head. Quickly!" barked one of the men. She instinctively withdrew, trying to curl up into a ball on the bed. "Get away from me!" she cried out. The men were having none of her pleas. Two of the men roughly grabbed her arms, and simply hauled her 5'5" ebony frame to her feet. Her full, milk-laden breasts swung pendulously and slapped against her soft skin, causing small drops of milk to escape her thick nipples. "Please, stop this! You're hurting me!" she sobbed uncontrollably. A sharp slap stung her cute face. "Shut up and assume the position!" the third man exclaimed. Still crying, Samantha tentatively put her hands behind her head as was asked of her, her brown breasts rising slowly up her chest as her arms raised up and crossed behind her head. Deftly, with the other two guards closely watching Samantha's actions, the third man unlocked the ankle manacle. One of the other guards removed his backpack and handed it to the third man. He removed several items, with which Samantha was about to become familiar with. Four items were ankle and arm cuffs. Soft on the inside, but tough leather on the outside, they were fitted with two D-rings each. The man quickly applied them, and locked them into place with a small yet sturdy looking lock. The final piece was of similar design, but was a collar, about 1.5 inches in width, also with four D-Rings attached to it. It too was locked into place. "Follow us slave." Said the guard who applied her cuffs and collar. Reaching one last time into the bag, he produced a leather leash, and clipped that onto the collar via the front D-ring. Pulling her quickly, they lead her out of the room. Samantha attempted to cover her huge breasts again, but a harsh command advised her against that.

The guards lead her down the hallway and into a large freight elevator. She sensed the elevator going up. A few seconds later, the elevator dinged and the door opened. She gasped at what she saw. A large circular area opened up before her, filled with people. Naked men on the left, equally disrobed women on the right. They were surrounded by similarly dressed guards much like her captors. They were watching over men and women in lab coats attending the nude figures. Each nude figure was in a separate cubicle of sorts, separated by plastic sheeting, seeming to make for a sterile environment. They were being given pills and injections of some type. It was too much for Samantha to take it. "Wh...What's going on here?!" she whispered softly. Her only answer was a quick tug on her leash as she was lead through the circular space and down another concrete hallway. This hallway had long recesses cut out on either side and she heard content moaning and the sounds of pleasure wafting towards her. Her mouth hung open to this new sight. With men on the left again, and women on the right, she saw what amounted to human cow herding! The men were facing the hallway, as were the women. All had ball-gags strapped firmly into their mouths. The men were of varying races and ethnicities, and seemed to be in top physical condition. They were locked onto X shaped bars bent at there crossing about 70 degrees. The X bars were padded and looked fairly comfortable. The men had mechanical vibrating dildos being plunged in and out of their asses over and over again! The dildos were of different thicknesses and the speed of the anal intrusion was also different from male to male. Their balls were encircled by a thick metal ring, which stretched the sacks downwards about 1 to 2 inches, with red and black wire leads leading off of it. Their thick, rock hard cocks were encompassed by a vacuum tube that was whisking away the continuous supply of cum that was leaking out of the unseeing eyes. She knew enough about male anatomy to understand what was going on here. With no direct penile stimulation, and the dildo's ramming their anal passage and rubbing their prostates, they were being milked!

Samantha was horrified, but felt a familiar wetness creep between her creamy thick ebony thighs, and extra thick droplets of milk formed from her breasts. Her eyes followed the tubes as they lead into collection chambers of one pint each, of varying degrees of fullness. As one male's collector reached fullness, a green light switched to red, and attendants come to uncouple him from the strange milking contraption, and his collected fluid was carried off into the unknown. As he left, a new male was brought in, and hooked up to the forced milking machine. As she turned her gaze to the right, she saw women in similar positions to the men. Women, again of varying race and ethnicity, where hooked into a different style of milker. Placed in the same bent over X bars as the males they faced from across the hall, their plight was soon apparent. Again, thick vibrating dildos pulsed in and out of their anuses with varying speed. Additionally, hung below the first pole, was an additional dildo plunging into their obviously sopping wet, bare pussies. The moans in the air simultaneously repulsed and excited Samantha's overwhelmed senses. The X-bars positioned both females and males in the perfect position. Legs spread out, torso bent slightly forward, arms locked above the slaves' heads. In the males case, the position allowed easy access to their hanging cocks, in the females case, it was their hanging bosoms. All the women had varying body types, none too fat, but varying degrees of skinniness or plumpness to all. The one unifying factor for the females was they all possessed large, heavy milk filled breasts! The smallest breast size seemed to be a D cup, attached to one very thin, very dark skinned black girl close to Samantha, who mewed a sound of lust and pleasure towards her thicker, lighter skinned body. Attached to her nipples, and just fitting over her pitch black areola's were two glass tubes under what seemed to be heavy, painful vacuum pressure. A constant thick stream of milk gushed from several places off her dark nipples, which were stretched almost 2 inches downward into the tube. Spraying down the thin glass tube, the streams coalesced into smaller plastic tubes, which lead up to one gallon collection containers, which where almost half full already.

Samantha quickly turned away. Looking down the line of moaning women, she noticed a thick white girl, somewhere between the line of plump and fat. Her thick pussy lips seemed to be sucking her giant plunging phalluses, much thicker than any of the other girls, with some degree of wanton. If her decidedly plump body was of any concern to anyone, it was quickly lost as her massive 40KK breasts swung to and fro, shaking as the larger white woman seemed to approach orgasm. Samantha noticed a slender vacuum tube protruding about six inches outward from the thick folds of her pussy. Inside the glass tube was her stretched clitoris! Pumped out a full two inches from her body, it bobbed back and forth as her twin stuffed ass and pussy were pumped by the dildos at high speed. Samantha looked back to the white woman's gigantic breast flesh, and saw each melon wrapped extremely tight by hemp cording, tracing up six inches from the base of her chest towards her nipple. The ropes wound tighter and tighter as they traveled towards her nipple, forcing the milk faster into the vacuum collection devices, while the loss of blood flow turned her once white tits a deep purple color. Whip marks covered her heavily tortured tits, and angry red lines on her back indicated similar treatment. The suction tubes seemed to cranked up to maximum pressure as well, as her thick teats were stretched a full three inches down into the narrow chamber. Each tube lead to three gallon containers, a 300% increase from the smaller breasted slave Samantha just gazed upon! Noticing no other ropes, clit tubes, or whip marks on the other girls, Samantha knew something bad must have happened to her.

The guard yanked Samantha back into reality with a tug of the chain. He lead her through the rest of the hallway and eventually into a spacious office. Once inside, the lead guard unattached her leash, and then left. The other two remained inside, next to the door. Samantha was left alone for the moment, and decided to look around. There was a large desk, and several chairs. On the walls were large flat screen HDTV's being used as monitors for several areas of the underground camp. It must have been underground, she thought to herself, there were no windows. The screens showed the area she was just in, as well as the prison block area she awoke in. Others showed outside work places, where there seemed to be a garden, with almost naked slaves working the field, an unoccupied dungeon style room, and some other undetermined rooms about the complex. Samantha started to feel nervous again, when a door on the back wall opened and a large black man walked in. "Slave, you will kneel on the floor in position one, NOW!" he barked. "Sir, please.." she started to beg. "Please let me go, this is all a mistake, I just want...." She was cut off with a slap to her face by the man. You will address me as sir." The unknown man spoke . "I will only ask you one more time."

Samantha, summoning her strength, burst forth, pointing furiously "Now listen to me, you fucking freak! The cops will be all over my disappearance, and you dirt bags are getting shipped off to fucking Git-mo, you terrorist ass mutha-fu...!!!" Her curse was brought to a quick close as the guard butted her head with his gun. "Now shall we try this again?" spoke the man. "Put her in slave position 1!" With that, the guard picked up the stunned girl. Placing her butt on her feet, he spread her knees wide. He pulled her hands behind her and placed them in the small of her back, which forced her chest out. There she sat, stunned and confused, her pink pussy exposed, no longer covered by her coarse pubic hair, brown outer lips peeled back, showing the world her wet, pink snatch. Her heavy breasts hung down and to her sides, as her nipples produced a droplet of milk. "This is slave position 1, remember it! Now, that I have your attention" the man continued, "You will be trained as a sex slave, as well as produce milk for sale and various uses. Your condition makes you unique, as we will not have to spend much time forcing the right amount of lactation to occur. You are quite a lovely catch! I'm Mr. Dixon, by the way, one of your new Masters. You will comply, or suffer the consequences."