S1 NNF Tyler EP 96

The next day, a new wave of handlers entered the breeding arena, their faces twisted into sadistic grins. Mike, Jake, and Aaron were back for another round, or so it seemed.

Great. Just fucking great. Didn’t they ever take a day off?

“Looks like it’s our turn, boys,” Aaron said, rubbing his hands together. “Time to show these hucows what real pleasure feels like.”

My blood boiled at his words.

Real pleasure? Fuck that.

This was nothing but torture disguised as pleasure. But they didn’t care. To them, we were just objects to be used and abused.

Jake stepped forward, his hand reaching out to touch my exposed flesh. I flinched at his touch, but there was nowhere to go. The restraints, like the days before, held me in place, rendering me helpless.

“Relax, cow,” he whispered in my ear. “You might even enjoy it.”

Over my dead body.

Still, my body betrayed me, responding to his touch despite my anger and disgust. He had studied me, so he knew exactly how to push my buttons. Using his fingers to tease and stimulate my most sensitive areas, he made my body come alive with a burning desire to climax.

“Look at the screen, Tyler,” he commanded, guiding my gaze toward the monitors mounted on the walls.

There I was, displayed for everyone to see once more. The live feed captured every expression, every moan, and every reaction. It wasn’t as if I could hide from it. So, how could I use this to my advantage?

And it wasn’t just us on display. Oh no, like before, there were other women too, all in various stages of arousal and submission out on the arena floor. Men lined up behind them, each waiting their turn.

It was sick. A twisted game of power and dominance, and Alice and I were the main attractions, or so it seemed, but why?

“See that?” Jake continued, his voice dripping with condescension. “People are watching. They’re paying good money to see you like this. You and her.” He pointed at Alice.

I wanted to scream, to claw his eyes out. But what good would that do? He and the other handlers had all the power here.

Mike and Aaron took their positions at either side of my steel horse, their hands roaming over my body with a familiarity that made my skin crawl.

Every touch was calculated, each caress designed to elicit a response. They knew my body too well, better than I knew it myself at this point.

Aaron especially took a perverse pride in making me squirm, his sadistic enjoyment evident in the way his eyes lit up with each flinch and shudder.

“Time for some double penetration,” Mike announced, his voice thick with eagerness as he stroked his cock. I could feel the heat of his arousal radiating toward me, an unwelcome sunburn on my already tender flesh.

Great. Just fucking great.

As if being milked like a cow wasn’t degrading enough, now they were going to take turns violating every hole they could find.

My mind raced, searching for some way to disassociate, to flee from the impending onslaught. But there was nowhere to go, no sanctuary within the confines of my own head.

“Don’t worry, 487. I’ll make sure you enjoy it,” Aaron said, his fingers trailing down my abdomen to my clit, circling it with the expertise of a craftsman. “I know how you like a bit of pleasure with your pain.”

I bit down hard on my lip, the sharp sting a welcome distraction from the growing tide of arousal.

My body had been conditioned to respond to his touch, and no amount of mental resistance could change that. It was a losing battle from the start, my flesh betraying me at every turn.

Aaron slid a finger inside me, then two, curling them to hit the spot that sent jolts of electricity through my core. My hips bucked involuntarily, and I cursed my body for its weakness. He withdrew his fingers and brought them to his lips, licking them clean with a slow, deliberate sensuality.

“She’s ready,” he said, his voice a low growl.

When they finally entered me—Aaron in my pussy and Mike in my ass—it was like a dam bursting. A tidal wave of sensation crashed over me, my muscles clenched and spasmed, my mind blotted out by a white-hot flare of ecstasy.

I couldn’t stop the moans and cries that tore from my throat, nor could I control the way my body writhed and undulated under their thrusts.

They moved in a brutal, synchronized rhythm, each stroke designed to maximize my discomfort and pleasure. The steel horse beneath me dug into my flesh, a cold, unyielding contrast to the heat of their bodies. My hands, strapped uselessly in front of me, ached to push them away, to claw at their faces, to do anything but lie there and take it.

And just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, that my body would give out from the sheer intensity of it, they paused. Aaron reached over and grabbed one of the milking machine’s hoses, guiding it to my mouth.

“Suck,” he commanded, and I obeyed, too far gone to resist.

The taste of warm milk filled my mouth, and I realized with a jolt of horror that it was mine, that they were feeding me my own milk. Seconds later, Aaron pinched my clit, sending a shockwave of delicious pain through my body, and I came with a squirt.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Mike said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction as his cock twitched in my ass, releasing streams of cum. Slowly, he pulled out of me.

My sphincter throbbed with the sudden emptiness, a phantom pain that radiated up my spine and settled in my lower back like a dull, persistent ache.

“Shit, man.” Mike looked at the wet spot on the floor. “I think it likes coming on your dick,” he said to Aaron, who was still buried inside me, his cock twitching with the last remnants of his orgasm. “You made this slutty cow fucking gush.”

“She always creams my cock,” Aaron said with a smirk, giving one final thrust that made my hips jolt and my legs tremble. He lingered for a moment, savoring the warmth, before withdrawing slowly, almost tenderly.

A mixture of my juices and his semen dribbled out of me, running down my thighs in sticky rivulets that cooled quickly in the sterile air of the arena. I could feel it pooling beneath me, a tangible reminder of what we had just done.

My mind was a fog of exhaustion and despair, but I forced myself to take in every detail. The way Aaron casually wiped his cock on my inner thigh, the lewd sound of Mike stroking his semi-hard cock as he watched.

They took a perverse pride in their work, like craftsmen admiring a finished piece. To them, I was a project, something to be molded and shaped to their desires.

“Don’t forget to clean her up,” Aaron said, his voice taking on an air of disinterest now that his immediate needs were met.

Mike grabbed a rough cloth and dabbed at my thighs, my skin raw and tender from their earlier handling.

Each swipe sent small shocks through my over-stimulated nerves, and I bit down on my already bruised lip to keep from whimpering.

“Now, let’s see how much milk you can produce,” Mike said, tossing the cloth aside. Their eyes lingered on my swollen breasts, which ached with a fullness that was almost unbearable.

My heart sank. The relief I’d felt when they finished was short-lived, quickly replaced by a crushing dread. The milking was its own kind of torture, a drawn-out process that left me emptied and sore. But it wasn’t just the physical pain that gnawed at me—it was the knowledge that this cycle would never end, that each reprieve was only a brief pause before the next round of degradation.

I glanced at the screens on the walls, at the live feed that captured every moment of our degradation.

Alice’s image flickered into view; she was slumped in her restraints, her body a picture of exhausted compliance.

My heart ached for her. She had been so strong, but even the most resilient will could be worn down given enough time.