It's 1939. The Great Depression still ravages the Kansas plains, and young Lizzie Ljunggren has just given birth. But, fecund and full-breasted – and possessed of the sweetest milk in all the state – it isn't long before Lizzie's in the service of the black-veiled Mistress, owner of a mysterious organisation called The Farm, which provides human milk and other 'services' to rich mothers.
Add a little girl-girl interracial breast feeding, semen milking for wealthy clients and a shy movie star with a secret letch for lactating members of her own sex, and we have a hotbed of sexual tension and hardcore action told in the way that only Vanessa de Sade knows how…
Excerpt:
"Then come," she whispers, "sit on the Chesterfield with me and let me sample your milk."
"I don't rightly understand…" Lizzie begins, seating herself on the cold leather nevertheless, her pale naked skin goosepimpling as her big breasts rise and fall with her rapid breathing, the nipples constantly erect and slightly moist.
"We'll milk you twice daily on The Farm from tomorrow," the woman whispers, her face very close as she begins to expertly massage Lizzie's breast. "But I want to partake of a little sample first. Have you never been hand-milked before?"
And Lizzie shakes her head, her whole body trembling, but surrenders to it, liking the feel of these firm hands on her hot and pleading tits. Wonders what it would be like to be kissed by her too.
"You'll like it," the black widow whispers, lifting a glittering bohemian-crystal glass from a side table and holding it below Lizzie's huge swollen nipple and squeezing gently, thick creamy liquid immediately squirting into the depths of the receptacle. "We use sterilised bottles at The Farm, of course, engraved with your number, but I prefer crystal when it's for my own consumption."
And Lizzie lets out a little a little gasp as her milk splashes into the fine glassware. And maybe there's just a hint of a groan in there too.
"You like?" the woman asks, a cat-like smile on her thin painted lips, her fingers squeezing again. Harder this time as the sweet milk flows into the glass with a satisfied hiss.
Lizzie nods. "Harder," she whispers and her Mistress obliges, milk streaming into the intricately cut crystal beehive, the glass slowly filling with Lizzie's thick white nectar.
"Now to taste," Mommy Dearest smiles, taking the glass slowly to her dark stained mouth, little white teeth just visible under the plump lips as a little pink cat's tongue comes out and whets them. Then, like a vampire, she imbibes.
"Am I good?" Lizzie asks anxiously, her body on fire.
The woman nods cautiously. "The best," she confesses. "In fact, the best ever."
Lizzie smiles and swallows. Then says. "Would you like to taste me again? You can, you know. You can taste from the nipple if you like…"
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Add a little girl-girl interracial breast feeding, semen milking for wealthy clients and a shy movie star with a secret letch for lactating members of her own sex, and we have a hotbed of sexual tension and hardcore action told in the way that only Vanessa de Sade knows how…
Excerpt:
"Then come," she whispers, "sit on the Chesterfield with me and let me sample your milk."
"I don't rightly understand…" Lizzie begins, seating herself on the cold leather nevertheless, her pale naked skin goosepimpling as her big breasts rise and fall with her rapid breathing, the nipples constantly erect and slightly moist.
"We'll milk you twice daily on The Farm from tomorrow," the woman whispers, her face very close as she begins to expertly massage Lizzie's breast. "But I want to partake of a little sample first. Have you never been hand-milked before?"
And Lizzie shakes her head, her whole body trembling, but surrenders to it, liking the feel of these firm hands on her hot and pleading tits. Wonders what it would be like to be kissed by her too.
"You'll like it," the black widow whispers, lifting a glittering bohemian-crystal glass from a side table and holding it below Lizzie's huge swollen nipple and squeezing gently, thick creamy liquid immediately squirting into the depths of the receptacle. "We use sterilised bottles at The Farm, of course, engraved with your number, but I prefer crystal when it's for my own consumption."
And Lizzie lets out a little a little gasp as her milk splashes into the fine glassware. And maybe there's just a hint of a groan in there too.
"You like?" the woman asks, a cat-like smile on her thin painted lips, her fingers squeezing again. Harder this time as the sweet milk flows into the glass with a satisfied hiss.
Lizzie nods. "Harder," she whispers and her Mistress obliges, milk streaming into the intricately cut crystal beehive, the glass slowly filling with Lizzie's thick white nectar.
"Now to taste," Mommy Dearest smiles, taking the glass slowly to her dark stained mouth, little white teeth just visible under the plump lips as a little pink cat's tongue comes out and whets them. Then, like a vampire, she imbibes.
"Am I good?" Lizzie asks anxiously, her body on fire.
The woman nods cautiously. "The best," she confesses. "In fact, the best ever."
Lizzie smiles and swallows. Then says. "Would you like to taste me again? You can, you know. You can taste from the nipple if you like…"
Buy this instantly from Amazon