Milked by Master: A BWWM Lactation Romance Box Set Read online

  Copyright © Quinn Rossi 2015

  WARNING: 18+ Only

  This work of fiction contains graphic racially charged language, violence, erotic situations, adult themes, racial-erotic themes, and makes references to online relationships, slavery and taboo fantasies. It is intended for mature, open-minded audiences only. All characters portrayed are over the age of 18. This title also contains trigger subject matter that is solely the product of the author's imagination. Any similarity to actual incidents, events, characters, names or places is purely coincidental.

  Milked by Master

  By Quinn Rossi

  CHAPTER ONE

  Clara scrubbed the dinner dishes vigorously. The hem of her long off white dress grazed the wooden floor boards. She paused for a moment to flex her fingers. He'd been working her than usual, a surefire sign that he was displeased with Mistress.

  “Oh!” Clara softly exclaimed as she yawned. A pins and needles sensation shot through her jaw. Her cheeks were sore from being stretched beyond their limits. As she resumed her scrubbing, she felt her massive breasts growing heavier with each passing moment. As she watched the ivory soap suds slide down her smooth brown arms, she sighed. The contrast in color immediately inspired flashes of Master's lily white flesh smashed against hers while in the throes of one of their illicit sessions.

  “Yes suh, I surely will,” Master assured his last guest as he said goodbye. Clara could faintly hear his creamy southern drawl in the distance. She shuddered. Slowly closing her wide brown eyes at the sound of his voice, she felt a charge shoot through her clit. He'd trained her body well to respond to him. Clara startled at the cold sensation sliding down her soft dark thighs. Had she been so distracted from her chores that the water had gone cold? The wooden floorboards creaked beneath her silken bare feet as she curled her toes. She could still feel Master's iron cock nestled deep within her womanhood.

  She was still aroused from dinner, where he made sure to excuse himself to her post in the kitchen several times under the false pretense of checking on “the help.” She'd done her best to stifle her moans as Master mercilessly penetrated her, all while his guests sat blissfully eating, chatting and laughing on the other side of the wall. She willingly gave herself to him, fully allowing him to take what he needed from her to satisfy his lust. She craved him just as much, if not more, having borne two of his children with a third now on the way. Clara accepted her place to hold Master's seed within her at all times. Mistress' womb was barren and cold, a major factor in Master's distaste for her. As Clara adjusted her head scarf, she put a damp hand on her belly. They'd been secret lovers for years, neither one able to quit their dangerous addiction to one another. In the 1820's south, the laws against blacks and whites fornicating were strict and clear. If they were ever found out, the punishment would be devastating to the both of them.

  Once more, a fresh chilly wet sensation traveled the length of her thick thigh meat. Looking down, she realized her swollen, chocolate breasts were painfully engorged with milk and leaking. A slow smile crept across Clara's flawless face. She knew that it wouldn't be long before Master came back for her, demanding his midnight snack. Her heart began to race at the sound of his footsteps clomping back towards the kitchen. Clara quickly resumed her task, washing the dishes and placing them gingerly on the table next to her. Master never permitted her to wear a corset, so her huge onyx orbs bounced swayed beneath her thin garment as she worked, causing milk to spurt out in intervals, soaking her chest.

  Clara felt his hulking presence behind her before he even spoke. He gripped a curvy hip with one massive hand and palmed her throbbing, dripping breast with the other.

  “Looks like it's time for your milking nigg'r," his voice was low and gruff. She could almost hear the erection in his tone.

  “But Massa,” Clara protested as her body quivered in anticipation. “I's right in the middle of dishes... I-”

  He grabbed the knot on her hair scarf and jerk it straight down. Pointing her face to the ceiling, his lips tickled her earlobe as his hot breath whispered, "It'll wait nigg'r, drop your top and let me see those full udders,” his tone was raspy and on the brink of losing control.

  "Yes Massa", Clara complied, peeling away the delicate fabric to reveal her enormous juicy milk bags. Master's eyes wandered between her face and her gigantic dripping breasts. He felt his cock grow even more at the sight of her soft, bare cocoa skin.

  BEEP! BEEP!

  The sound of her husband engaging their late model Ford's alarm system in the driveway shook her out of her fantasy. She blinked. Damn, he did it to me again, she thought, looking down at her soaking wet pale blue panties. She quickly clicked the red “x” in the corner of her browser as she heard the clank of her husband's keys in the door. Shit, shit, shit! She thought. I'll delete the history later, she silently promised herself. Her anonymous on line Master, Farmer6969 was going to have to wait.

  “Baby! How was your day-” she greeted her husband as she took his coat.

  “What's for dinner?” Darod cut her off, ignoring her question. “I'm starvin' yo,” he mumbled as he brushed past her to the den.

  Fuck my life, Clara thought as she rolled her eyes at Darod's retreating back. “Umm, well I haven't exactly had time to get dinner going just yet babe. The baby has been really fussy all day and...” Clara trailed off realizing that Darod wasn't paying a lick of attention to her. The game was on and she knew her husband well enough to know that he gave zero fucks about anything she had to say that wasn't directly related to putting food in his belly. The romance had been sucked from their marriage years ago. In a last stitch effort to save them from divorce, Clara purposefully got pregnant. The baby was supposed to renew their affection for one another, but it was just the opposite. Clara didn't think it was possible, but she hated Darod more lately than she ever had before. He hadn't touched her since he found out they were pregnant, and Clara figured it was just as well. The sex they used to have was boring and unimaginative. These days, the thought of his ashy, calloused hands on her made her nauseous. Farrmer6969 on the other hand...

  She sighed as she pulled a Hungry Guy tv dinner from the freezer. Ice crystals had begun to form a crusty layer over the processed junk food, but she tossed it in the microwave anyway.

  “YEAH!! ALRIGHT MO'FUCKA!” Darod screamed at the tv, startling Clara half to death.

  “The baby is sleeping,” she called from the kitchen. Darod waved her off.

  “Yeah, and I'm still hungry. Da fuck's takin' so long?” he sneered back, scratching the exposed scalp between his tightly braided cornrows.

  Clara gave him the finger behind his back. She felt her breasts tighten and ache as droplets of milk soaked through her shirt. “Shit,” she whispered to herself. Exasperated, felt her huge brown eyes well up with tears.

  She'd been over producing milk ever since the baby was born. By the time their little girl was a month old, she had to purchase a deep freezer to store all of the extra milk she pumped. Knowing that there was no way the baby could drink all of the supply, Clara looked donating or selling her milk. During her search she came across a site that sold to adults as well. She was shocked to learn that there were men out there who'd be willing to pay top dollar for what she had. One man with the handle, Farmer6969, even offered to milk her himself, training her to be a hucow.

  Hucow? Clara had never heard the term before, but something in his words piqued her sex starved body and mind. As the marriage she'd been pushed into disintegrated before her eyes, her own fantasies had grown more and more depraved. Clara began to acknowledge a secret part of herself t
hat she'd kept hidden for as long as she could remember: A feverish attraction to white men. She'd spent hours on line clicking through images tagged with black woman, white man or “bwwm,” for short. It was inspiring to see sistas of all different flavors like her looking so in love and happy with their ivory princes.

  At a curvy 5 foot six inches, with huge dark eyes, velvety chocolate skin, enormous, leaking breasts, soft stomach and a round ass, Clara now loved her new figure. Whereas most women abhor what havoc child bearing can wreck on their body, Farmer6969 convinced her that she was a work of art that deserved to be milked, bred and worshiped daily. Clara found herself drooling over her anonymous virtual lover, who had mercifully taken on the task of teaching her to experience the erotic rush of love, trust and pleasure that only exists between a slave and her Master.

  Submissive by nature, Clara had always secretly been fascinated with white slave owners who bred their female slaves. There's little documented about that time period, but what she was able to find fed her growing obsession. When Farmer6969 mentioned “breeding” her, Clara allowed herself to be intrigued. Before she knew it, she'd engaged in a salacious ongoing email exchange with him, where he made her deepest most shameful desires come to life. He had an amazing way with words and an uncanny ability to transport her to a completely different time and place. Farmer6969 had awakened a hibernating sexual beast within her that was now clawing to get out.

  As Clara walked towards the den with Darod's dinner tray, it took everything she had not to clock him upside the head with it. She'd never been in love with him and she only married him because her family expected her to. Clara laughed to herself. What I wouldn't give to see the look on their bigoted faces had I brought a white boy home. Mama woulda dropped dead then and there. Clara was startled when she realized how happy she felt imagining her mother dead. Bitter old hag, she thought as she inched closer to Darod's recliner. Tellin' me all my life was how white people were the devil. I've been hit on by more white men than any other race. Darod treats me like yesterday's hot garbage. I'd be happy now if it weren't for her and her bullshit prejudice, Clara lamented. She chuckled again as she thought of the contrast of what she'd been taught growing up and her deepest, darkest fantasy: To be a whore to a white man.

  “Hurry up, Claire, damn!” Darod's shrill voice broke through her thoughts. Clara sat the tray on the end table.

  “Your rows look tight, Shanice outdid herself this time,” Clara commented.

  “Yeah, you know,” Darod said absently, his eyes still fixated on the tv. “Glad you understood why I stayed over her house last night. It was an all-night job,” he smirked, blindly reaching towards the tray. “Yo! I know you ain't forget my drink!”

  “You didn't ask for-”

  “Yo, the fuck is that? You splash water all over your shirt or some shit?” Darod cut her off, gesturing towards the growing wet spots around her nipples.

  “No, it's milk Darod. You know, the substance I use to feed and nourish our baby?” Clara responded through clenched teeth. He was in rare form this evening.

  “Hmph, yeah, 'Our baby.' That shit is sick yo, go change your shirt. I'm bout to eat,'” Darod scoffed as he brushed past her to the kitchen.

  Clara was dumbfounded. “What the fuck do you mean, “‘our baby?'” she spat back, twisting her face imitating him.

  Darod shrugged as he poured a glass of grape soda. Clara felt a wave of nausea roll over her as she watched him gulp the syrupy junk down like it was nothing.

  “Yo man, all I'm sayin' is Shanice n' them were talkin' last night and some things just ain't add up, aiight? Like dates and shit.”

  Clara's blood boiled. “Shanice n' them? Really? What else did Shanice have to say about “our” baby?” Clara glanced down at her knuckles. They'd began to turn white.

  Darod downed another glass. “You know he don't look nothin' like me. I wasn't gonna say nothin', but Shanice said she saw you hugged up under some white boy a while back before I supposedly got your ass pregnant. So you tell me wassup Claire,” he finished, spreading his arms out to the sides.

  “Interesting,” Clara started, calmly. “I'm just curious, did Shanice tell you all of this before or after you fucked her last night?” batting her lashes.

  “Yo, you trippin,” Darod laughed on the way back to the den.

  “Oh please, Darod. Just because I haven't said anything, doesn't mean that I'm stupid. Your sloppy ass has been runnin' around here for months with a million and one lame excuses tryna cover your tracks!”

  Clara's heart was pounding. She'd never stood up to him before, not like this. She felt her body tense up as she felt all of her hatred for him gather in her chest like a fireball, ready to explode. “I know what you've been doing with that nasty skank, and I don't give a shit! As a matter of fact, you two deserve each other. Since you'd rather sleep over there anyway, why not make it permanent?!” Clara's eyes flashed with anger as she grabbed the now cold tv dinner and threw it in the trash. “Get the fuck out of my house!”

  Darod stared at her blankly. “Yo, Claire-”

  “My name, is Clar-A, and I'm not your fucking 'yo'. Get out,” she repeated with an icy calmness.

  “Man, whateva yo,” Darod mumbled as he threw his jacket on. “You only makin' yourself look more guilty bitch,” he continued, heading towards the door.

  “Look at my face, Darod. Do I look like a give a fuck about what you and your little whore think of me? My daughter and I will be just fine without your raggedy ass!” Clara proclaimed as she held the door open for her husband. Darod shuffled out to the car and pulled away, giving Clara the finger the entire time. “Fucking cretin,” Clara said aloud to the retreating brake lights. As she locked the door she took a deep breath. Realizing that the tv was still blaring the game, Clara switched it off. “Ugh, finally free,” she sighed. She knew that one day she'd kick Darod's cheating ass out of her life but she had no idea that that day was going to be today. It was her fault that she'd let her sham of a marriage go on for as long as she had, but no more. The faint sound of the baby cooing interrupted her thoughts. Clara smiled as she made her way upstairs to her baby. Looking down at the chubby, giggling infant, Clara felt a serenity that she hadn't experienced in a long time. Picking her up and hugging her close, she kissed the top of her soft head. “We're gonna be alright baby girl,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Clara's computer screen illuminated her dark bedroom. At just after midnight, she was still wide awake... and horny. She was one of the few lucky women whose sex drive wasn't negatively impacted by having a baby. To the contrary, it was in overdrive. She could barely get through a twenty four hour period without her hucow slave fantasies taking over her mind day and night. There was nothing physically stopping her from carrying out her wildest dreams, but her own fear of satisfaction taunted her relentlessly. Clara worried that she was becoming obsessed with her need to be relentlessly milked, fucked and bred and having Farmer6969 feeding her desires wasn't helping.

  He'd offered to take their on line relationship a step further, proposing an in person meeting. Clara had already sent him plenty of scandalous pictures of her dark dripping breasts, along with the rest of her soft womanly body. He always reciprocated, sending her either a pic of his extensive hard cock or a continuation of their mutual fantasy. Clara even went so far as to download a quick messenger app on her phone so that they would have instant access to one another whenever a naughty feeling struck either of them. They were both horny and shared the same fetishes and kinks. But most of all, they were both lonely. He claimed to be single, but Clara couldn't understand why. Aside from being sexy, he seemed to take an interest in her beyond sex. Sometimes Clara was so frustrated with her marriage that she found herself venting to this stranger on the other side of her screen. It wasn't a concept that was new to the world, but it sure as hell was new to her. She sighed. As she stared at the blinking cursor in the search engine, her mind began to drift
back to the night when her emotions boiled over at Darod's repeated infidelities.

  Clara: 'Had enough of his shit. He must think I'm stupid.'

  Farmer6969: 'What r u going to do?'

  Clara: 'I'm taking my baby and leaving. This has gone on for long enough.'

  Farmer6969: 'Wait, wut? U said its ur house. Y would U leave?'

  Clara: 'Great Gma left me the house yea. I dunno. Just so angry -_-'

  Farmer6969: 'Dont do anything crazy out of emotion. Think it thru. He may think ur stupid but I dont. U deserve better.'

  Clara: 'Ur sweet. Thx.'

  Farmer6969: 'Dont take this wrong but if u were mine Id treat u like the queen u r.'

  Clara: 'Ty. Bet u say that to all ur girls... ;)'

  Farmer6969: 'No no others. Just u.'

  Clara: ':D'

  Clara: 'Hear his car now g2g'

  Farmer6969: ' K u got mail. Tuck it away for a rainy day.'

  Clara: Talk soon.

  Clara blinked. He'd been so kind and understanding. She knew about the dangers of communicating with strangers online. Goodness knows there’d been enough stories in the news about it. Despite her vulnerability Clara couldn’t help but to think that Farmer6969 was different. Not only did they share a deep fascination with interracial master/slave romance, but he was also well versed in the hucow/breeding fetish. Still, more than that, he listened to her. He seemed to be interested in much more than sex with her, always asking her about her day during their online chat sessions. On more than one occasion he’d shoot her a random message to make her smile. A curvy smile crept across her face now as she remembered how patient and sweet he’d been when she turned down his proposal to meet in person. I know it’s dangerous. But maybe if I’m really careful… After Darod, how bad could he turn out to be? Clara shook her head vigorously. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m a mother now, I can’t hook up with a random internet pervert! “Get yourself together girl,” she said aloud to herself.