Madam Rambert's Ranch: Maria's Milk

 

I was sure the sun just rose because suddenly there was light beaming through the boarded-up window. Madam Rambert didn't want us to have any windows because they were a view to the outside world. She wanted us to forget about the past and be focused on our only future goal: to become the best possible Milk Whores.

My room wasn't the Ritz-Carlton, but it was nice enough. I had a small, sturdy bed, a TV on the wall that only played glamorous old porn movies, and just enough space to fit a yoga mat. The washroom was behind a curtain and had a modern shower and newly installed toilet. I didn't need a kitchen because Madam Rambert's cooks would bring me all my meals. She was very strict with our diets and only allowed healthy foods that would keep our stomachs flat and our milk tasting sweet.

The Prime Milk Whores - the ones at the top of the lactating whore hierarchy - where given one-bedroom apartments with full cable and computers with restricted Internet. I was told they were also allowed desserts twice a week and even champagne every now and then. They even had the luxury of travelling to exotic places to see VIP clients overseas.

The clock on the wall reminded me that I must get up and freshen up for my big day. Today I was to be debuted to the customers. I hadn't pleasured or fed milk to anybody on the ranch since I came here two months ago. I originally wanted to be a Young Whore, the whores who dress up in schoolgirl outfits and call the clients 'Daddy', but Madam Rambert decided my breasts were too large and saggy, my areolas too expansive and dark, to fulfill the image of a young, nubile maiden. I was only twenty-nine, but Madam Rambert said nobody would buy that with my middle-aged mother-like udders.

She put me in training to be a Milk Whore and I had endured two months of breast-enlarging and lactation-inducing pills, nipple-sucking machines, random farmhands suckling and handling my teats, and finally a fat-transfer surgery that left my body as skinny as a stick and my breasts so large my back hurt. My now coffee-coloured areolas were larger than pepperonis and my nipples were the size of red grapes.

When I first came to the ranch, my breasts were indeed hanging, but firm and a D-cup. Now, just two months later, they were pendulous and milk-filled and close to a J-cup. I wasn't very tall - only five feet and three inches on a good day - so my breasts hung right above my navel when standing, and beyond when sitting and slouching. I hated the appearance of my bulging, stretch-mark-laden breasts now - I felt like I belonged in a circus. But I truly wanted to spend the rest of my life on Madam Rambert's ranch. This disfigurement to become a human cow was the only way. There was nothing for me in the outside world. All my friends were married and forgot that I was alive. My father had died years ago, and my mother had retired in Spain with her new husband. I had no siblings and no men I was particularly interested in. I knew I wouldn't miss going back to my stressful, unfulfilling life as an unmarried travel agent on the verge of bankruptcy.

I always wanted to be an independent woman. I barely dated in college because I was so busy with my studies. I never looked to men to support me even if I could. I was always an attractive girl with large brown eyes, long chestnut hair, full lips, and golden skin - but I always got the wrong kind of attention because of my overdeveloped breasts. I became used to a single income but before I knew it, the bills piled on and on, and I was living just to work.

I did not want that life anymore, always having headaches about money and no fun at all. Living and working in Madam Rambert's ranch meant never having to worry about food, bills, and the rat race ever again. Everything was provided for you, including an optional retirement package at the age of fifty-five. Once a Milk Whore turned fifty-five, she could choose to have a free breast-reduction surgery, leave the ranch and enjoy the world with a guaranteed six-figure income for the rest of her life. I could not resist an offer that sweet.

The catch was that you would agree to depart with society, enhance your breasts or butt to unnatural proportions, and submit entirely to Madam Rambert and her peculiar clients. Her clients were not your average Johns; they were men with unique and taboo preferences like dominating very young women, sodomizing ginormous butts, and the most popular one: milking fantastically busty women and treating them like common farm cows.