Note from the author: This story is more of an experiment than anything else. It's my first work using the first-person perspective to explore how such an approach might work. In this tale, the narrator reports on a rather explicit, brutal and non-consensual experience that she was subjected to, containing humiliation, heavy breast bondage, lactation, fisting, large object insertion and rape. All characters are purely fictional and of legal age. None of this actually happened and the whole plot is a product of my fantasy. Also, to my knowledge there is no user named bigtitsbuster69, and even if there is, he or she has nothing to do with this story.
*****
To all the busty smut authors out there,
this is an urgent warning to not fall for bigtitbuster69's schemes. He's dangerous and out for us well endowed, kink-loving ladies. I fell straight for his trap and believe I am badly traumatized ever since.
As you might know, I'm a female bigtits/bondage/noncon author and have published quite a few works on this site. But believe me, I was not prepared for what happened to me. What I went through would certainly make for a good story but it was not something anyone would want to experience for real.
My actual name is obviously not important for this report nor my exact age. And I think it's sufficient for you to know that I am the proud owner of an impressive, bouncy 34H rack and an easily excitable, bare little pussy.
So, what happened you ask? Let me tell you about the horrible nightmare I went through.
A few months ago, bigtitsbuster69 sent me a feedback note on one of my stories, praising my unique ideas and writing style. He explained how rare it is for him to find well written, female erotica focusing almost exclusively on rough breast play and that he adored my stories, especially
Lara's Ordea
l with its forced lactation scene.
He gushed about my descriptions of the main character's tightly bound, leaking torpedos, told me how excited he got from my descriptions of the severe bondage alone; that he could picture the scene of her tightly bound balls of flesh bursting any moment so vividly that he could almost smell the endless torrent of milk sourced by the incredible pressure put on those breasts. He commended me for my creativity, for my idea to use rubber bands and soaked leather strips to cruelly squeeze so many milk-filled funbags, yada yada yada. You get the idea. Sufficient to say that I was flattered. And of course I sent a reply, as I always do.
So we started chatting, exchanged some thoughts and told each other about some more intimate experiences. I enjoyed this exchange a lot, loved his observations, his rather unique, if brutal, ideas on how to treat a bloated set of lactating titties. He started asking more intimate questions, like what bra size I have; whether I have any kids and if I have ever been lactating myself. Stuff like that. I kept my responses vague of course, but slowly things got more personal.
Then he dropped the bomb. He told me that doctors had recently found a tumor in his brain and that he was told he would die within 9-12 months. After that, our conversation got much more intimate and I somehow was willing to disclose a bit more of myself to this poor, dying man. He shared his sexual frustration, explained that he lost his wife years ago and that he had no romantic relationships ever since. And he disclosed that digital boobs and imagination was all fine and dandy, but that he so wished that he would be allowed to play with a set of real, warm, lactating breasts at least once before he vanishes from this planet.
I somehow felt compelled to tell him the size and shape of my boobs and even sent him a picture of them, carefully making sure my head and any personal items were out of the frame. This of course made him all the more excited. I could feel his longing almost physically and suggested that he should simply look for some prostitutes with sizeable tits but that suggestion only offended him. He pointed out that these professionals usually had fake breasts, did not lactate and that it would anyway feel wrong to him to pay for such a service.
Then he prodded for information on my location. I of course tried to stay vague but somehow he still figured out in which geographic area I live. He was ecstatic as I apparently lived close enough to him and immediately made plans on how I could get my tits lactating so he can play with them as his last wish. I told him it's not going to happen but he just pointed to my stories and said that apparently I secretly fantasize about lactation play anyway, so why not try it out for real.
This is probably where I made my biggest mistake. I played along. I have to confess though that I was intrigued. The thought that I would turn myself into a lactating pair of tits just to please a poor, dying man made my excited pussy drool like a freaking waterfall. I masturbated every night thinking about my bloated, milk filled boobs being sucked empty by this stranger, even thinking that my precious produce would somehow magically heal him from his deadly illness. It won't surprise you to learn that I started to research how to induce lactation in earnest, not just the superficial stuff I had looked up before for my stories.
I gave it all, popped pills, endlessly listened to crying babies and even bought a milk pump that I religiously used on my twins several hours a day. And I reported back to bigtitsbuster69 on my progress. He encouraged me in every exchange we had and kept talking about ideas on how I could provide my soon milk-filled tits for his final play session without exposing myself to any danger.
By that time I wasn't really afraid of him anymore and would have gladly met him in person, but somehow he insisted on making everything 'safe'. I foolishly suggested a scenario I explored in some of my stories, namely those lovely tit glory holes. He was ecstatic and said he would immediately start to prepare a wooden wall where I could put my breasts through and he could then play with them from the other side without seeing the rest of my body. This is one of my all-time favorite fantasies, as you can probably tell if you read some of my works.
I was so excited, I barely managed to keep my fingers from my pussy. I must have been red and raw down there when finally my body started production. Of course I told bigtitbuster69 immediately of my success and practically begged him to milk me right there right now. But he asked for patience and said that he still needed some time to set everything up and that meanwhile I should train my beautiful twins to get them to produce even more milk. So I kept my routine up and continued to milk myself - and masturbated every free minute I could spare. My tits were rather cooperative and thanks to my ongoing efforts, and all the pills I popped, they produced more and more of the sweet white fluid.
I soon found out that lactating tits had a rather unpleasant side to them. My big, soft boobs got much harder and felt terribly bloated, and every bounce, every jiggle they experienced made me squirm from pain. The few times I forgot to milk myself they got so tender that I could barely stand it. But damn did they look hot! Like some freakishly large, round and taut melons ready to pop! I couldn't wait to show them off.
A few weeks later, bigtutsbuster69 sent me a message saying that everything was ready for me. I was thrilled that I could finally provide my milk to this poor, dying man and couldn't wait to get started. He sent me the address and asked me to be there the next day around 4pm. I was so excited I could barely sleep that night.
I arrived there at 3pm already and found a lonely wooden hut, situated on a barren tract of land. Nothing was there except rocks and sand. Must have been an old miners house or what not. As I approached the building, I found a piece of paper nailed to the door that told me to go inside.
The room looked much smaller than it should have and it was almost empty, save for a strange contraption on the far end of the room. As expected, there were two holes in the wall next to the device, holes where my tits were supposed to go through. But they looked way too small, just like in any of my stories.
More intriguing was the contraption itself, a seat of sorts with a number of restraints, some leather belts but also some spring loaded cuffs that would snap shut once triggered. It looked like straight out of
Tina's Torturous Trials
, one of my less popular works.
A note was taped to the seat telling me to strip naked and then bind my nipples with some of the little rubber bands so no milk would be wasted. I beamed, thinking of my precious, milky gift, even felt grateful for meeting such an appreciative man, and slipped out of my clothes. Still thinking about my valuable produce, I quickly snapped the tight bands around my leaky nubs to save all of the sweet fluid for later.
I squeaked like a little piggy.
The pain was brutal. I learned a lot on this adventure, but one of the most memorable things was just how much pain those little nipples were able to cause. I was of course determined to prepare myself and quickly got into the seat. Without much thought, I fastened the supplied straps, carefully binding my thighs and ankles, my waist and chest to the strange apparatus. Then it was time to engage the cuffs.
I only hesitated a moment before I thrust my wrists, arms, thighs and ankles into the waiting receptacles. Every single one of them clicked shut. I was trapped for good. When finally my excitement faded a bit, I started to wonder how the hell the whole thing was supposed to work, and how I would get out again in case nobody turned up. The holes were quite a bit away still and there was no way my tits could even touch the wall let alone squeeze through the openings, which I thought was the whole point of this exercise. I was baffled.
Then something unexpected happened.
Suddenly my legs were pulled out and up, almost dislocating my hips, while at the same time my arms shot forward and back. I was so stunned that I almost forgot to scream. To my utter surprise my shins were now resting behind my shoulders, pressing against my armpits from below, my bare bottom painfully thrust forward. Before I could understand any of it, this hellish device catapulted my body forward and smashed me against the wall, my bloated, hurting boobs smacking right in the center of the two waiting holes. I felt squashed like a fly, my tits squeezing partly through the inadequate openings and my exposed pussy pressed hard against the rough wood by the seat's devilish machinery.
