Dr. Reinhold tenderly pinches the top of Imelda’s right breast with her left hand, lifts it from the basin and cradles it in the towel in her right hand. It is enormous and obviously engorged with fluid. The long nipple, though constricted by a ring at the base, is amazingly swollen and the size of my pinky finger.
She dries the breast then carefully releases it to hang. Although firm and plump, it drapes well away from her chest and is an incredible mass of soft feminine flesh.
She repeats her actions with the left breast then gingerly slides the basin toward the back of the table.
“As you can see, Doctor, the tubes provide Imelda with quite the dose of hormones along with being fed a perfect formulation to enhance lactation. Not only induced intragastrically but intrarectally as well. And I control her bladder. Good hydration is paramount. The mammaries need quite a supply of fluid and nourishment to maximize production. In the basin circulates specially treated water. Through experimentation I know the ideal temperature for Imelda’s glands. The water also contains a compound, which serves to sooth her nipples. They become sore with all the lactation.”
Imelda’s nipples hang like cow’s udders. She makes no acknowledgment of our presence but I notice her skin is slowly becoming flushed with the humiliation of her exposure and Dr. Reinhold’s embarrassing narrative.
“Would you like to give us some milk, Imelda? Your breasts are quite full and your nipples seem to beg for attention. Good girls get a nice long milking.”
With the tube emanating from the girl’s mouth, she cannot reply. A smiling Dr. Reinhold answers for her in a soothing maternal voice.
“Yes. Let’s show the Doctor what a good girl you are. Hanging so nicely..., waiting to be milked.”
Dr. Reinhold reaches for the bowl. In it are ice cubes, which she uses to carefully rub against Imelda’s nipples. Which the shock of the cold against the warmed breasts, Imelda’s bells unisonantly ring out. The elongated nipples instantly shrink in diameter but not in length.
Dr. Reinhold tosses the ice into a sink and smiles.
“Warm breasts and cool nipples enhance the flow. The initial shock also sends a psychosomatic message, ‘get ready to lactate’. It’s a conditioning technique somewhat similar to Pavlov’s dogs..., see what happens.”
I peer down and incredibly see that Imelda’s ni
pples are beginning to drip. Dr. Reinhold catches the drippings in the bowl.
“What a good girl you are today, Imelda. Showing off so nicely for our guest.”
Dr. Reinhold’s speaks as if addressing a child or a puppy, with a soft seemingly mocking voice. For some reason, I doubt that Imelda is intentionally being so cooperative.
Dr. Reinhold smoothes her hands over the girl’s shoulders and smiles at me, deliberately delaying any contact with the waiting dripping nipples.
“She’s nicely trained, isn’t she Doctor? Pining for her daily milking. You know the need and desire builds over time. There’s a dull ache in the mammaries, which requires attention and beginning the flow becomes somewhat equivalent to having an orgasm. A desire to be milked grows and becomes a curious substitute for sexual gratification.”
Another pause, as Dr. Reinhold softly laughs and watches the steady dripping.
“Well, let’s see what you have for me today.”
She moves to Imelda’s side and turns valves on the catheter tubing.
“That allows her bladder to drain. The feeling of relief will increase the flow rate of lactation. We’ve done much research over the years, my mother and me. We learned to extract what we wanted and when by manipulating the hormones, breast temperature and forced inducement of fluids.”
Dr. Reinhold returns to Imelda’s front, positions herself facing the hanging girl and grasps a nipple in each hand. An amazing eruption of white fluid splatters to the bottom of the bowl. If Imelda’s milking is in fact a substitute for sexual gratification, I am witnessing an amazing orgasm.
Another slight squeeze and another burst. A humming noise can be detected emanating from Imelda’s throat. She cannot speak but she can purr like a kitten and given the freedom, I picture her humbly curling up to Dr. Reinhold and graciously licking her hand in gratitude.
Dr. Reinhold continues milking her kitten and the initial strong bursts slow to a mere torrent, with the bowl steadily filling. The sound of the bells diminishes as Imelda settles into her straps and lets the conflicting feelings of gratification and humiliation overwhelm her.
“You know, Doctor, this can be performed by machine. But that isn’t much fun for either of us. And having an observer helps. Imelda is learning to become quite the performer. Soon she’ll be able to begin lactation with the mere snap of my fingers. It takes time but it can be done.”
It is mind boggling to understand what inspires the dominant female. I will have much to record tonight, I think to myself, should Imelda ever stop producing and I thus be permitted to leave.
Stroke after stroke, Imelda is relieved of her essence. Finally, as Dr. Reinhold’s fingers tighten and the strokes become longer and firmer, the flow lessons despite her more earnest efforts.
Now the purring stops and the bells ring, this time in reaction to discomfort. Dr. Reinhold smiles knowingly.
“My little cow is all milked out. Very nice. You almost filled the bowl.”
Indeed she has. Dr. Reinhold carefully removes it.