The Milk Bitch Trilogy by Frances Gaines Bennett
During lunch at a DC power restaurant, the striking brunette journalist Gina can’t take her eyes off a ruggedly handsome man on the other side of the dining room. An advance on him is rebuffed by the maitre’d, but that doesn’t stop Gina from trading a night of sex with the restaurant owner for information on her mystery man. Before that night is over Gina will be drugged and later wake up in a warehouse, where sees shocking scenes of young women being examined, sold, crated and wheeled away. She listens in horror as her mystery man, Ward, and a powerful Sheikh make a deal that will turn Gina into Ward’s property.
Though Gina finally lands safely back at home, her world has been upended…even her sister and good friend are in the clutches of this slave trade… and some of the powerful in Washington are in on this shocking commerce in women. Gina is now at Ward’s beck and call as he tortures, ass rapes and humiliatingly degrades her in acts that bring her to intensely powerful orgasms.
She’ll be subjected to a systematic program of sexual breeding and forced lactation. In a diabolical research lab, under the direction of Dr. Roland, her breasts are ballooned to an extraordinary degree, an activity that becomes highly orgasmic for the slavishly submitting Gina. To perfect the alternations, she’s left at the doctor’s farm where she and the other girls are kept in stalls like cattle. Once Gina returns to DC, her bulbous milk-filled breasts become the object of much attention. She’s routinely milked and fed special diets that will alter her milk in order to please the men to whom she’s given. Her transformation from DC journalist to Ward’s Milk Bitch is now complete.
More brutal subjugation follows, as Gina’s story continues in Milk Bitch Lost. She’s taken to the Sheikh’s home where Ward shows off her special milking talents and arranges to transform other females who will serve the Sheikh in the same manner. While there, Gina is kidnapped by Amani, a powerful priest with mystical powers, and a complicated plot must be devised to save her. Finally in book three, Milk Bitch Pawn, Gina is back in the US where she’s again forced into more dehumanizing scenes of abject submission, and becomes a integral part of her ‘Daddy’ Ward’s scheme to blackmail a former US Vice President and his son.
The stories of Gina and her fellow milk bitch slaves are told in a beautifully written masterpiece of S&M perversion, with graphic depictions woven though suspenseful plots that will keep readers turning pages until the very end. While content centers on sexual submission and lactation, also included are body modification, suspension and Shibari bondage, stringent corsetting, pain, punishment, whipping, pony girls, piercing, piss drinking and slave auctions.
Combined into one volume, over 350 pages in paperback.
For those wanting the extremes in Erotic reading. Not for everyone!
The individual books in this trilogy were previously published in the UK in 2005.
Gina was on Tilghman, a tiny island on Maryland’s Eastern shore. The day was bone-chillingly cold and grey. The dank smell of dirty, fishy swamp water filled her nostrils. The riggings on the ancient fishing boats clanked like dissonant temple bells as she tried to climb them. She strained against the ropes above her but her arms were numb. She couldn’t pull herself up.
The clanking – or something, she wasn’t sure what – jarred her into wakefulness. Her leaden eyelids fluttered open.
She shivered uncontrollably. She was so cold! Her breasts were covered with goosebumps and her nipples were constricted into such frozen points they felt like tortured icicles. Her back and shoulders ached … and – Oh my God! – her head pounded. Where was she?
She tried to raise her head to look around. The throbbing made even the smallest motion agony, made nausea hit her in waves, forcing her to quickly lower her head again. The horrible swampy smell made it worse. Her hair hung in her face and she couldn’t move her arms to push it aside. She struggled to lift her eyes but her vision swam and went black.
Had she passed out? She tried again. This time her sight cleared a little.
It was probably only an instant before she understood but it seemed like an eternity. Each thought fluoresced painfully in her mind.
Her first impression was of the dim light and something cold, rough and hard against her back. The space seemed large with several – many? – people scattered through it. A large whitish shape floated at some distance in front of her. She shook the hair from her eyes as best she could.
Why couldn’t she move? She realized with shock that she was naked … and somehow held immobile. Through the gloom she peered down at her feet past the bulge of her breasts. They were fixed wide apart against the wall by something thick and rigid. She strained her neck, twisting upward to see her hands. They also were held together full length above her head in painful, unyielding bands. The bands cut into her wrists when she tried to move her hands. “Metal?” she wondered, as her mind cleared and her horror and fear grew.
She turned her head and would have reeled back from the sight that met her if she was not pinned upright. It was a warehouse, large and bleak. A row of naked women were stretched full length against a long wall, their wrists and ankles locked in place by wide black bands. Single or groups of men stood in front of each girl, talking. She couldn’t clearly see what they were doing but they appeared to be examining the girls.
The girl next to her looked so young – certainly no more than a teen – with the lovely curves of a woman but the delicate bones of a girl. Though Gina couldn’t see her clearly in the dim light, from the tremulous motion of her long blond hair she had the impression the girl’s entire body shook. Gina watched a short Oriental man open the girl’s mouth and peer inside, then work his way down her body, prodding and squeezing. The girl did not struggle or make a sound, even when the man bent to examine and finger her genitals.
Her mind was still befuddled but clearing … and it was racing faster and faster the more Gina tried to focus. Anxiety hit her in the chest and coursed through her with the jumble of thoughts. How did she get here? One inconceivable thought flashed in her mind. It was Phillipe.
The last Gina remembered Phillipe giving her a drink. All she’d wanted was information about the mysterious man in the restaurant. Could he possibly have drugged her and sent her here? She shook her head, both trying to clear it and because she couldn’t believe Phillipe could be involved in something like this. His family had been in DC so long they were an institution.
Then a thought struck Gina, squeezing her heart so tightly she swooned and almost blacked out again. What if she wasn’t in the US anymore? Panicked, her eyes strained into the dimness in every direction trying to make out something that might tell her where she was. A grey sky, but nothing else, was visible through an open, roof-high industrial doorway. Her panic galloped up into her head. There were no clues! Only the swampy smell and the foreign faces.
An accented voice caught her attention. She turned her head. The Oriental man was satisfied with the young girl. He handed a briefcase to a man nearby. The man called across the warehouse in a language Gina didn’t recognize. She heard the jangle of metal wheels on concrete before she saw another man approach pushing a cubical crate, open at one end, on a dolly. As a hypodermic needle slid into her arm, the girl screamed for just a moment until her body went limp. Gina watched the men unshackle the girl, fold her slack legs against her chest, fit her into the squat crate and hammer the crate closed. Tears streamed down Gina’s cheeks as the crate was wheeled away. She felt such anguish for the poor girl … and for herself. Would she be next?
She realized then that the metallic sounds of crates being hammered closed and rolled in and out and the shackles striking against each other, had penetrated her drugged dreams. As her eyes adjusted to the greyness she saw crates coming and going down the line of girls.
Adrenaline had consumed the pain in her head. Now her senses were on edge, hyper-aware, heightened by fear. She felt a presence and turned her head. About ten feet in front of her hovered a dark man in a flowing red headdress and white robes over a business suit. He stared at her fixedly and she knew she’d felt his stare all the while she’d been conscious. When he saw her turn, he called across the warehouse, in Arabic, she thought.
A handsome, swarthy man in an elegant dark suit, with beautiful black curls to his shoulders and large dark eyes, walked toward her. In spite of the horror around her she felt a little relief. This was someone she might deal with, she thought. She worked with men like him all the time.
The men talked – argued? – animatedly. Gina was now certain they spoke Arabic. She smiled seductively toward the man with the curls. “Hello. Have we met before?” she ventured. They ignored her. Her voice became urgent, louder. “Can you please unfasten me! There must be some mistake.”
The men stopped their conversation and looked at her. The handsome man approached. Again she smiled. “I think I’ve met you …” she began. The man drew back his fist and punched her hard in the abdomen. Her bound wrists prevented her from doubling over but her breath exploded from her body. The sensation of pain had not reached her brain before the man hit her again. She gasped and, despite herself, tears streamed down her cheeks. Her organs seemed to swirl and clench inside her. She felt sick … and as the deep pain rose into her throat, her unwitting tears change to sobs of true mourning.
Clearly she was to be sold to the man in the robes. She did not see how she could possibly escape. She knew she wouldn’t give up. But for the moment, at least, she was overcome with hopelessness. All was certainly lost.
The men’s argument ceased and they turned toward the entryway. Gina saw another man’s dark shape approach, silhouetted in the pale light. When he turned to shake the elegant man’s hand hope burst into her chest. It was the man in the restaurant – Ward, she’d read his name at Phillipe’s.
She started to yell to him. Then her hope died as quickly as it had risen. Her voice froze in her throat. Why was he here? Had he done this to her? What did he want from her?
The elegant man switched to urbanely unaccented English. “I’m afraid you now have a competitor for the girl.”
Gina saw the expression on Ward’s face grow dark, thunderous, for just a second before it recaptured tranquillity. He bowed to the robed man, who returned the bow. “Sir, I’m afraid Reza has given you incorrect information. This one is my property.” The robed man did not appear in the least disturbed by Ward’s statement.
Reza’s tone was profusely apologetic. “Master Ward, I beg you to forgive me. I have informed the Sheikh of your claim. But he ardently desires her and I could not ignore his … generous offer.” He waved to the line of girls. “Can I please give you another – at no charge?”
Ward motioned Reza aside, out of earshot of the Sheikh but closer to Gina. Her fear was momentarily overcome by curiosity. She felt an urgent need to hear their conversation and was thrilled when they came close … until it occurred to her that Ward wanted her to hear.
“There is no question here, Reza,” he said coldly. “We have an agreement. She is mine.”
Reza was clearly distressed. His voice was humble, plaintive. “Is there nothing we can do? The Sheikh has offered me a huge sum and he is a very good customer. I don’t want to lose his patronage.” His voice lowered, became confidential. “I think it’s the giant breasts. He said something about feeding his children.” He smiled wryly. “Maybe himself, also.”
Ward looked momentarily thoughtful and his eyebrows lifted. “Interesting.”
Gina listened to Ward’s next words with awful realization – somewhere deep inside she had certainly suspected – yet also with a tiny bit of relief. “Do I need to remind you where many of your most desirable properties come from? I’m certain you do not want to damage our arrangement. And have you forgotten that it was my contacts who did this? You would never have had her without me. As I said, there is no question. She belongs to me.”
Reza was intent, sincere. “Let me give you one – no, two – of the others.” He turned toward the line of girls. “I have some beautiful ones. Younger.” For a moment, Gina felt irrationally slighted and jealous. “Virgins.” He smiled. “Well, almost. They’re twins, also with big breasts and very submissive.”
Reza led Ward out of Gina’s line of vision. Her heart sank. How could she compete with beautiful young twins? She wanted him to take her away from this horrible place yet at the same time her rational mind was struck by the hideous irony. Would she then be the slave to this frightening, mysterious man? What would that mean? Still she waited, barely breathing and chest tight with fear.
The men returned. Reza’s optimistic expression grew larger in front of her like a scene from a nightmare. Tears sprang into Gina’s eyes.
Ward cocked his head toward Gina. “Before I decide, let me speak to her.” Reza resumed his conversation with the Sheikh, an obsequious smile on his beautiful face.
Ward positioned himself close in front of Gina. His eyes slowly, appraisingly, swept up her body. Again she experienced a sense of irony. Here she yearned to please a brutal kidnapper.
Ward painfully gripped a handful of her hair and pulled up her head so her eyes were a few inches from his. “These are the rules. They will be better and worse than you expect.” His eyes grabbed and held hers like in a hard fist.
“In the future I will treat you as an animal …”
“An animal? What did he mean?” she wondered, horrified.
“ … so you will not be required to call me Sir. However in this discussion you will say Yes Sir and No Sir so I am clear about your answers. Do you understand?”
Gina could barely bring herself to say the words … but she did. “Yes, Sir.”
“On the surface your life will not change. Unless I decide otherwise, none of your friends or colleagues will know of your new status. You will still work. But you will become my property.” He jerked her hair for emphasis and brought his palely luminous eyes even closer. “I want you to be very clear about this. I will own you. I will control your actions and eventually all of your thoughts just like I would my dog. And I will train you like I would my dog.” His eyes were relentless. “Do you understand?”
She didn’t really. First she hesitated, then started to explain. He smiled and placed his free hand on her stomach. Though she couldn’t fully look down, she glimpsed the edge of a flattened fist. The thought “It’s amazing how big it looks,” stabbed into her mind. Her body jerked and she stuttered out, “Yyyyes, Sir.”
He smiled pleasantly. “I don’t expect you to fully understand … yet. But I do expect you to obey.” His voice was still soft but with an intangible yet chilling emphasis. “Do you understand?”
This time she was too afraid to hesitate. “Yes, Sir.”
“You are intelligent and I will use your intelligence along with your body to manipulate my clients – whatever their desires.”
Her first response was amazement and disgust, then again fear. “Yes,” he said. She saw him following her responses in her eyes. “I will make you my whore.
“For now you will continue to live in your apartment.” Possibilities leapt into her mind. She knew he saw them in her eyes but couldn’t stop them in time. His smile was icy and – she wondered why – he seemed completely certain of his words. “Don’t think you can escape.”
Ward released her hair. His smile was again pleasant but his words sent chills through her body. “This is the last choice you will ever make. My rules …” he shrugged, “…or I will give you to the Sheikh and take the twins.” Suddenly he was still. So frighteningly still, she thought.
Gina felt ill and exhaustingly overwhelmed. His silence deafened her and her mind raced through it in all directions at once. But she knew the truth. Really there was no choice. She did not want to respond. Finally her fear forced the word out. “You … Sir.”
Ward motioned to Reza. He peered intently into Ward’s cold eyes. “No? I can’t convince you.” He looked toward heaven. “But how am I possibly going to placate the Sheikh?”
Gina wondered the same thing. Although she found herself strangely confident in Ward’s ability to prevail (in some unimaginable future she must think about why) Reza’s words sent another rush of anxiety through her. She moaned softly. Would this nightmare ever be finished?
“Let me help you with the Sheikh.” Ward smiled – at a private joke, it seemed to Gina. “I’m sure he’ll find my offer satisfactory.”
Ward bowed to the Sheikh. “I hope you will forgive Reza. It was only his abject desire to satisfy your needs that caused him to give you misinformation.” Ward’s expression was intensely solicitous. “I’m afraid I cannot be outbid for this girl…” The Sheikh looked extremely surprised and somewhat displeased. “…because I have paid in things more valuable than money: honour and commitment.”
Gina was dumbfounded. She could not comprehend what he could possibly mean. Honour and commitment? The man was making her his unwilling slave. The Sheikh’s expression, however, told her he found Ward’s words deeply meaningful.
“However, I think I have another solution that you will find suitable. As you may be aware, I have trained certain of Reza’s girls.”
The Sheikh vigorously nodded. “Yes, I do know. In fact, I own one of the girls you trained. Teresa. Do you remember her? A truly excellent property.”
Ward bowed again. “Yes, an excellent choice.”
The Sheikh eagerly continued. “Ah! That perfectly white skin! I have forbidden her from ever going outside because I am afraid her skin will burn in our hot sun. And her exceptional ability to fulfil all of my needs!” His expression became pensive. “But really most rewarding is her own need. I call it her addiction. She does not seem to be able to survive without providing her services. She degrades herself as thoroughly as if she was addicted to heroin.” He beamed at Ward. “It makes possessing her so exquisitely pleasurable. So truly decadent!”
Ward was clearly pleased. “Sir, I am honoured to meet someone of your subtle understanding. I consider that my true skill is not as a trainer …”
“Tsk, tsk.” The Sheikh expressed his vehement disagreement.
“… but in my ability to perceive which girls truly need to serve.” He waved toward Gina. “Like this one.” He smiled at the Sheikh. “You clearly can also perceive this distinction.”
“So why don’t you allow me to train the girl to your specifications? Then I will bring her to you in Saudi at regular intervals. Or if you prefer you will have access to her in the US.”
Again Gina listened without comprehension.
Her heart filled and overflowed with anxiety. She could simply not imagine what Ward proposed. His words had immediately come to pass. He had already arranged for her prostitution. And what strange needs did the Sheikh have? What would he do to her? She tried to clear her head. How was Ward going to train her?
Ward had paused to observe the Sheikh’s reaction. “I can’t imagine that you don’t tire of your girls. This arrangement will allow you to use her when you please and have her training perfectly developed and maintained at all other times.
“I think you’ll find you’ll receive a superior product this way. So? …”
The Sheikh considered for no more than a moment. He smiled and extended his hand. “Agreed.”
Gina was weak with relief. She sagged against the shackles. She didn’t know what was to come but it must certainly be better than slavery in Saudi Arabia. At least she could think so for the moment.
Ward handed the Sheikh his card. “Please email me your specifications and I will keep you apprised of her progress.”
Reza solicitously led the Sheikh away. “Perhaps I can offer you something else?”
Ward squeezed Gina’s jaw between powerful fingers. “You’ll grow to love this, I promise you.” She stared at him in disbelief.
A man approached with a hypodermic. “I’m sorry,” Ward said as she tried to jerk away. “This location is secret.” The hypodermic slid into her thigh and she slumped against the metal bands.
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