Captives of Alien Milkers Pt. 07

Being milked felt so GOOD.

After the agony of helplessly feeling my loose, full breasts sway and bounce, with my hands bound behind me, the sensation of the suction tubes attaching to my nipples filled me with relief. I may have even cried out. The suction was gentle, not rough, and the sensation of milk leaving my body was so sensual, so physically amazing, that I no longer had the strength to resist. Even the vibrator gently sliding into me, then trembling as it urged me to arousal, did not feel like the violation it had earlier.

Captain Clark looked similarly relieved, similarly turned on and content. She had her eyes closed, her mouth open, and her back arched. Her breasts, hard and round from their milky burden, rose and fell with each deep breath. I'd never wanted to touch her more.

Only Major Thrace continued to resist. She writhed against the vibrator, twisted to avoid the suction cups, and screamed every curse she knew at the G'Oran. Of course, we'd relieved some of the pressure in her breasts back in our cell, Captain Clark and I on our knees before her, each with a nipple in our mouths. But she would've fought no matter what.

"Get these fucking things off me! I'm not your fucking property! I'm not a cow, do you hear me? You can't make me your cow!"

Not that her fighting made any difference. The targeting mechanisms on the suction tubes eventually found their target, latched unerringly onto her nipples, and she began to express her milk. Hers flowed much more rapidly than either mine or Captain Clark's, and she roared her impotent rage at the aliens milking her.

"Stop it!" she screamed. "Stop milking me!"

So we sat there, three naked human women, tubes attached to our nipples and vibrators slowly working on our pussies, until a sudden violent tremor went through everything.

The three G'Oran exchanged looks. One of them checked an instrument, and apparently didn't like what it saw. They conferred for a moment, then went to Major Thrace and injected something into her neck. She went limp.

"No," Clark said weakly, struggling to come out of her stupor. "Leave her alone..."

But they removed her from the milking machine and carried her to a corner. Milk dripped from her breasts, leaving a trail across the deck. They stepped onto a teleporter pad.

One of the G'Oran activated something, and a space opened behind them, a dimensional portal that showed us wherever they were going. It displayed a vast, long, brightly-lit room with rows of naked human women seated just as we were, attached to the same machines that worked on us. All the various skin tones of humanity contrasted with the gray sameness of the G'Oran equipment. And the sound: moans, cries, and whimpers, a chorus of women providing the accompaniment to their own milking. It sounded one moment like an orgy, the next like a gang rape.

I remembered the father and son who'd first fucked me in that awful room. Were any of these women the mother and daughter they'd sought? Would the G'Oran keep them together, or move them apart? Would they even care? What would it be like to watch your mother, or your daughter, writhing and being milked?

Just before they winked out of existence, Major Thrace raised her head and looked at me. I saw the rage, but also a kind of terror I'd never known a woman like her could feel. My heart wrenched for her. Then, in a buzz of teleporter energy, she was gone and the portal closed.

The door to the chamber opened, and a half-dozen colonial marines burst into the room. When they saw us hooked up to the machines, one of them called, "Medic!" And, moments later, I too was being sedated, although this time by a human, who was there to rescue me.

***

Three months later...

I stood outside Captain Clark's quarters. I'd been reassigned to lighter work than my previous job as the Captain's yeoman, at least until I was fully recovered from the trauma I'd experienced. Captain Clark had no such luxury, but from all indications, she'd had no trouble. The door opened, and she said crisply, "Come in."

When I entered, I found her behind her desk. Her new yeoman, a man, stood and said, "With your permission, I'll leave you two to talk."

"Thank you, Ensign Redding," she said without looking up. When the door closed after him, she leaned back and gave me a once-over. "You're looking well."

"No physical damage," I said. And it was true: the medical staff had reversed the G'Oran's effects of me. If I'd been milked even once more, it would have been much more difficult, if not impossible. But since they'd interrupted my first milking, before my body had time to fully adjust itself, they were able to bring me back to normal. "And the psychological damage is...manageable."

"Are you able to wear a bra yet?"

"I started this week." For over two months, my breasts and nipples were so sensitive that a bra made me feel claustrophobic, choking me as if a great hand was crushing my chest. The doctors said this was a common side-effect in women used by the G'Oran, and would pass in time. And so it had. "Is there any word on Major Thrace?"

"No, sadly. When they searched the ship, there was no sign of her. All the males had been euthanized, and there were no other human females beside us. Every G'Oran ship in the quadrant has been stopped and boarded, but no luck."

"And her wife?"

"She left the service. The last I heard, she planned to search for Major Thrace herself." She arranged some of the file discs on her desk. "Are you wondering why I asked to see you?"

"I'd hoped it was to resume my old duties, Captain."

"No, that's a decision for the ship's doctor, not the captain." She stood up. "I have to ask: can you keep what transpires at this meeting a secret?"

"As you wish, Captain."

"It's not an order, ensign. It's a request. You see..."

She came around the desk and stood before me, close to me. She lifted my chin with one finger, then bent and lightly kissed me. I was so surprised I couldn't move.

"I want to be with you again," she said softly.

I was speechless.

"We were raped on that ship," she continued. "What we did with each other was forced on us, and we had no choice. Now I want to exorcise that by...well, to put it simply, by fucking each other of our own free will. If you want to, of course."

Memories that my therapy had never succeeded in erasing flooded back to me. I could only nod.

Captain Clark smiled knowingly, stepped back and undid her uniform tunic. It dropped to the floor, followed by her bra. She looked at me expectantly, bare to the waist, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. The overhead light cast shadows beneath them, making them seem even larger.

"I haven't been able to stand having my husband touch me since we got back. Especially on my breasts. He's too rough, too..." She searched for the word. "Masculine."

I hadn't sought out any physical companionship, either, although I'd masturbated myself silly the first few nights I was back in my own quarters. For days, I couldn't bear the touch of anything on my skin, and so had wandered around my quarters naked. I wondered if Captain Clark had done the same.

"This is a one-time thing, Ensign. So don't hold back. If there's anything you want to do to me, or that you want me to do to you, this is your chance. Do you understand?"

Again, I could only nod. I felt as aroused as I had back on the G'Oran ship.

I stepped closer. She put a hand on the back of my head and drew me firmly down to her chest. I licked, kissed and finally sucked her right nipple, just as I'd done on the G'Oran ship.

She whimpered. The sound was so delicious, so carnal, that I stepped back and quickly removed my own tunic and bra. The relief as my breasts fell free, their weight catching in my shoulders, was palpable.

We faced each other bare-breasted, each of us displaying the very things the G'Oran had so coveted. She gazed at mine just as I did hers, our attention almost masculine in its focus.

"We should lie down," Captain Clark said. She took my hand, threading her fingers through mine, and led me into her private quarters. My nipples hardened in anticipation of her mouth.

We didn't speak again. We kissed, and fondled, and undressed all the way. But we both knew what we wanted. So it wasn't long before we lay on our sides, staring at each other's stomach, sixty-nining the other's nipples for what seemed like hours. It was the kind of sensation that I never wanted to end.

But then I thought of Major Thrace. And although I continued to lick and suck the Captain's nipples, I also began to cry.

THE END