The slave, still soaking wet from her shower, padded into the building behind her Owner. Her bare feet left little puddings from the concrete slab outside into the white, sterile she found behind the door. The cow bell attached to her collar clanked with every gooshy step.
Looking around her, the slave saw more and more white: walls, floors, even the doors and cupboards and cabinets. The only things not white were the stainless-steel carts, refrigerators and….
Her brown eyes open wide at the sight of the last object. Something she hadn’t ever seen before, maybe only in videos and articles talking about medieval torture devices.
In the middle of the room was a wooden horse. Made of polished wood, it was formed by a large, long triangle sitting on two stainless steel poles coming up from the floor. The top edge of the triangle looked very sharp to the slave.
Not wanting to think anything more of the horse, she shifted her gaze to the ceiling and saw an old style block and tackle hanging down, above the horse. The slave shivered. Not so much from the coolness of her still wet body and the temperature of the room, but understanding what the ropes were for.
“Stand right there, Bessie”. The Owner’s voice brought her out of her reverie. He had placed her close to the horse and then walked over to one of the refrigerators.
Opening the door and reaching in, He retrieved what she saw as a baby bottle with leather straps attached to the cap. He then closed the door with a kick of his heel and took a small coil of rope from a nearby cart.
Walking back to the slave, He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. Grabbing both her wrists, he looped the rope around them until they were bound tight together. He then turned her back around again and held the bottle up to her eyes.
“Time for your feeding, Bessie.”
The slave saw the bottle contained a white liquid. Something like milk she thought. Looking back at her Owner, she saw he had a puzzled look on his face.
“Looks a little lite, doesn’t it Bessie? Not enough for a growing cow like you. Guess I am going to have to top it off.”
She watched Him as he lowered the bottle to the zipper on his jeans. After unscrewing the cap from the bottle, The Owner’s other hand undid his pants and took out His Cock. The slave saw it was already half erect and rather large.
The head dripped with a small amount of pre cum, as He began to massage His member. He put the head of His dick into the mouth of the bottle. His breathing deepened as His massaging quickened.
After a few minutes of this, The Owner closed his eyes and gave out a loud grunt and his load exploded into the bottle. He then squeezed His penis, as if to make sure every amount of cum he could get into the bottle.
Taking His cock out of the bottle, The Owner held it up to his eye and scrutinized the mixture. “Still not enough for you, Bessie”, He told her as He again lowered it to his crotch and reinserted the head back in.
He looked her straight in the eye while he emptied his urine bladder into the bottle. The slave broke contact with Him and watched as the golden liquid mixed in with the milky substance.
With a small piss shiver, The Owner took out his dick and recapped the bottle. Shaking the bottle, He put away His cock and redid his pants. Completing his tasks, He then approached the slave and told her to open wide.
The slave opened her mouth and tilted her head back. As the nipple of the bottle entered her mouth, she began to suck on it, even as she felt His hands wrap around her head to buckle the bottle to her.
The milk tasted cold, adding the chill of her body. She was hoping the body temperature fluids would help her warm up, but it didn’t help.
After strapping on the bottle, The Owner lifted her chin up and patted her on the head. He then then went over to a long rope that was hooked up the block and tackle on the ceiling.
He let out the rope and lowered the set up until it was shoulder height next to the slave. She watched it settle while she continued to drink from her bottle. Her gaze shifted back to The Owner as he fetched another coil of rope from the cart.
“Don’t pay attention to me, Bessie.” He spoke to her as he strode up to her, “You finish drinking as I hook you up.”
Concentrating on her bottle, The slave suddenly felt a crushing pain from both of her breasts. Not wanting to lower her head to look down, so the bottle could keep draining, she felt His hands squeeze and twist each tit.
The pain subsided as he let go, but was replaced with the rough feel of the rope, as he wound it around and around each breast. They felt as if each one were being crushed by a giant hand. The slave almost dropped to her knees from the pressure and wanted to scream but the ever flowing milk didn’t allow her.
The Owner stepped back to admire his rope work and gave each tit a smack. “I think that should do it!” He told her, as she reached over to the tackle hanging next to her shoulder.
On the bottle of the tackle was a heavy-duty hook. This He put through a loop of rope he created on the rope between both breasts. The Owner then walked back to the rope running down to the wall and drew it in some.
This action pulled on the block and made the tackle raise toward the ceiling. As it went up, the slave stood herself on her toes, to keep the pressure off her tits.
The Owner walked back to her and inspected the hook and rope. Nodding again in satisfaction, He flicked the end of the bottle and told her to keep drinking. Strutting back to the rope, He yanked on it very quickly.
The slave felt her feet leave the floor and the pain in her breasts tripled. She hung freely in the air, as her legs flailed around, trying to find purchase.
“Now the fun begins.” The Owner said to no one, while he watched her dangle.