Chapter Seven

 

Journee sat at one of the small round outdoor tables.  There were three little stools, and Rhone and Pindpo sat on the other two.

Just three naked young women sitting at a tiny outdoor table.  Nothing to see here!

Rhone said, “We will nourish you.”

Pindpo said, “We need relief anyway.”

Rhone said, “Yes, they feel so tight and ache greatly now.  The American was such a distraction.”

Pindpo said, “She created this problem, but luckily the American will also resolve it.”

What exactly were they talking about?  Journee had no idea.

In tandem, they shifted their chairs closer.  Journee found herself hemmed in tightly with no room to maneuver.

Rhone grabbed Journee’s hair by the back of her head and pushed her head down and over towards Pindpo.

Journee resisted.  A little.  But a little was as much as she could do.

“What the fuck!?!”

Rhone said, “We brought you lunch.”

Pindpo said, “It is a four-course meal.  Left breast, right breast, left breast, right breast.”

What were they talking about?  They couldn’t mean….

Journee looked at the breast gradually approaching her resisting face while she struggled to redirect her head.  It was Pindpo’s left breast.  It was larger than her frame called for.  It did look taut.  Even with Pindpo’s dark skin, veins stood out from it.

Oh, God!  Pindpo’s nipple had a white droplet on it!

Pindpo was lactating?

Both of them were lactating?  Is that what they meant by a four-course meal?

That was so disgusting!

She managed to struggle those same words out while fighting Rhone’s strength and leverage, “That’s… disgusting!”

Rhone said, “The American slut slave is insolent!”

Pindpo said, “Why are you so insolent, American slut slave?  We will generously feed you.  Why so ungrateful?”

“I don’t… want boob milk!  I’m not… a baby!”  Journee had to speak her words a few at a time as she was busy resisting the pulling on her head.

Journee was pretty far forward on the backless stool, and her gradual loss in the battle of which direction her head went meant her rear lifted a little off the stool.

It must have been an appealing target.

Swat!

Swat!

Hey, that hurt!

Swat!

Swat!

More spanks?

Swat!

Swat!

Dammit!

Swat!

Swat!

It was Rhone spanking her!  What a bitch!

“You bitch!”

“Still so insolent?  I will try to fix you yet again,” said Rhone.

Oh no!

Swat!

Swat!

Swat!

Swat!

Journee gasped from the pain, from the predicament, and from her ongoing struggle for command of what direction her head went.

Rhone asked, “Did I fix you, American slut slave?  Did this spanking work?  I administered a goodly number.  Your white savage white ass is now a savage red color.  Let me know if the spanks worked.  If not, then I will administer another number of them twice as many as this last number.”

That many more spanks?  No!

Journee was a wimp as per pain.  She got tears in her eyes when she bumped her funny bone or stubbed her toe.  She was sure she could not take that many more spanks without bursting into tears.  She already wanted to cry from the pain and from the frustration!

She better tell Rhone whatever Rhone wanted to hear.  Nothing was worth putting up with this kind of pain.

“Yes, it worked!  It did!  You fixed me!”

“Ah, well, this is good.  Now, tell me, how many spanks do you require before your reluctance to eat your warm, nourishing lunch goes away?”

Damn.  Damn it.  Damn this.

Fuck.  She was losing the battle for her head anyway.  And not just physically.  She already felt so defeated.  Physically defeated and defeated in the mind wars.

She’d just licked their pussies.  And gobbled down a lot of those fluids that came out of their pussies when they orgasmed.  She guessed a tit wasn’t such a big deal compared to a pussy, and milk was likely a preferable bodily fluid to whatever that stuff was that they’d gushed into her mouth.

Journee stopped fighting and allowed Pindpo to press her mouth against the tip of Pindpo’s left breast.

Pindpo’s breast was hot from the sun on her dark skin.  As Journee’s mouth pressed on it, milk was displaced from the pressure and squirted out from Pindpo’s nipple.  It made a mess until Journee opened her mouth, caught the stream, and then worked her mouth around Pindpo’s nipple and aureole.

Pindpo exclaimed, “Yes, the American slut slave latch on!  Oh, so good.  Rhone, you will need to try.”

Rhone said, “Yes, I will.  My teats need relief.  My milk needs expression.”

Pindpo said, “If you wish it, I could suckle you while the American suckles me.”

“No.  Look how skinny she is.  So weak.  We will fill her up on both our milks.  She will be our baby American we raise together.”

Journee could not believe this situation.  But her mouth believed it just fine.  Her mouth suctioned and swallowed mouthful after mouthful like her mouth was on a mission.

And she did feel hungry.

She also felt lightheaded from the hot sun, Pingpo’s hot skin, this hot situation, and Pingpo’s milk which was so warm it was nearly hot.

She felt so hot that she felt like she was in a sauna.  She felt herself sweating.  She was pretty sure it was sweat.  But why was almost all of it in between her legs?

Her ass hummed with a buzz of diminishing pain, and her mouth swarmed with taste.  Milk was supposed to be so wholesome, but this milk was so naughty.  These African bitches had succeeded in perverting milk itself!

Milk was also supposed to be good for a person, but Journee thought this milk, drank this way, could not be good for her.  It had to be bad.  She was suckling African bitches who said she was a slut slave.  They couldn’t mean that, but they sure did treat her that way.

Pindpo’s hand cupped the back of Journee’s head.  Pindpo did not need to use any strength at all.  Journee was cooperative.  She felt cooperative.  No, much worse than that, she felt tamed. 

Journee’s assertive personality receded, and Journee felt entirely submissive.

She would do what they wanted.

She would do anything they wanted.

The milk tasted so sweet and so strange and so naughty and so good.

Journee sucked harder, vacuumed her mouth, and obtained mouth load after mouth load of milk.

She spent five minutes sucking and swallowing.  Just little mouthfuls each time, but they added up.

Pindpo said, “Yes, that teat is relieved now.  Go to the other one, American.”

Without being told twice or needing a hand to guide her, Journee leaned forward, her rear up off the stool, and latched onto Pindpo’s right breast. 

It had started, it had continued, and now there was more for her to do.  More milk for her to suck out and swallow down.

There was something about this.  Lunching milk out of this young African woman’s breasts.

Sure, it was lesbian, but it was still hot.  She bet Travis would pay all the money he had saved up just to watch five minutes of this.

She wanted more.  She was thirsty for more.  She was hungry for more.  And she was so turned on.

Journee sucked in Pindpo’s breast meat and sucked hard, needily.

Pindpo exclaimed, “My, this American has a strong latch.  Like she has waited all her young life for proper feeding.  I hear some American women do not breastfeed.  Perhaps the ambassador mother is such a one.  So shameful!”

Journee felt like telling her, “My mom did breastfeed me, thank you very much!” And then adding, “I’ll tell you what’s shameful: me sucking milk out of your tits!”

But she couldn’t say those things.  It felt too important to get more of this delicious milk into her tummy.  It was amazing how much milk Pindpo had in there.  Poor thing did need relief.

Journee guessed she didn’t mind helping out.  It was the charitable thing to do.  These poor African third worlders.  The least she could do was fill herself on their tit milk. 

Rhone wasn’t just standing around. 

She was feeling around!

Journee felt Rhone's wiry strong and demanding hand cup her pussy and then rub it like she owned it.

“The American is so wet.  She is, how they say, switched on.  American slut slave greatly aroused from feeding off your teats, Pindpo.”

Wha-aaa-aht?

She was not!

She was not turned on!

Well… she was turned on.  She’d just thought that.  But they were not supposed to know about that!

She must be turned on from something else.  Not from breastfeeding.  That would be way too fucking weird.  It had to be from something else.

Was it from Rhone’s hand?

No, the arousal started before that hand arrived on her pussy.

She couldn’t be turned on from drinking milk from a young woman’s tits!

Not possible.

So, what were her other choices?

She was wet from lesbianism?  She was wet from getting pushed around and dominated?  She was wet from those spanks?

What if…?

Oh no!  What if all of those things aroused her!?!

Rhone just wouldn’t leave the subject alone, the same way her hand wouldn’t leave off working Journee into a frenzy.

“This American slut slave pussy is dripping.  Drip so much!  Her pussy hair is soaked.  Who knew America did have rain forest?”

Journee felt like telling Rhone to fuck off.  Instead, she fucked her pussy onto Rhone’s hand.  Take that, you African bitch!  Take my pussy on your hand!  Take it!  Hey, you could even go ahead and fingerfuck it.  If you want….

Journee sucked urgently at Pindpo’s right tit.  She couldn’t control what Rhone did to her pussy or how she responded to it.  But she could make sure to suck hard.  That she could do.

After a few minutes, Journee faced double frustration.  She couldn’t quite cum!  Rhone refused to do enough.  Journee knew Rhone did it on purpose.  Rhone kept slacking off and pulling her hand almost off of Journee’s pussy.

Rhone was intentionally driving her crazy!

She was a bitch for fondling Journee down there, and now she was a bitch for not fondling Journee more down there!

Journee’s other frustration was Pindpo’s milk supply running out.  She’d sucked her almost dry.  It felt like an accomplishment though she knew it must be just the opposite.  Why did she still want more milk?  She felt full and yet hungry at the same time.

She was hungry for it in a factual way because it was well past lunch now.  True that.  But she was hungry in another way.  Doing this, sucking like some dependent child, was so debasing.  It was so naughty, and when the milk supply trailed off, it was like a loss of naughtiness.

She’d forgotten this was a four-course, four-tit meal.

Pindpo pushed her away, “Enough, milk-greedy American.  Rhone, the American sucks up milk like America sucks up natural resources.  Should we be surprised?”

“No.  Of course not.  We will need to reshape the mind of this slutty American.  She will need to put the needs, wants, urges, and even simple impulses of others far before any of her own concerns.  Perhaps we will even make her give up all of her concerns.  They will cease to exist.  For the good of all those who she will come to serve.”

Journee did not like that plan.  It sounded so scary!

That stuff wasn’t possible… was it?

A little lost in thought, a little dazed, a bit distracted from intense arousal, and strangely mellowed and compliant from a tummy full of milk, Journee barely paid attention as Rhone sat back down and pulled Journee’s head into place on her breast and then teasingly, enticingly rubbed her hard nipple on Journee’s lips.

It tickled physically and tickled into greater attention Journee’s deep down, previously much deeper down, submissiveness.

Journee sucked at Rhone’s breast.  Journee swallowed down Rhone’s milk.  Soon she sucked with energy and swallowed in big greedy gulps.  Her tummy was too full but still not full enough.

Pindpo traced Journee’s pussy lips from behind, up and down them, sometimes letting her finger penetrate just a little, just a tease.  Journee trembled.  She thought she was starting to orgasm, but, no, it was not to be.  She could not quite get there.