Dollar Milk Maid
Elliot Silvestri
copyright 2013 Elliot Silvestri and Green Bush Publishing
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this work are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Contains adult material that might not be suitable for all audiences. This work is a fantasy; in your own life be sure to follow safer sex practices.
All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older. This work is a fantasy; in your own life be sure to follow safer sex practices.
Also by Elliot Silvestri
And Giselle’s Mother
Astrophil & Stella
The Breast of Dawn
The Breast of Day
The Breast of Night
Bringing in Casey’s Cream
The Collegiate Milkmaid
Cul-De-Sac: A Suburban Erotica in Around
Gretchen’s Twins
His and Hers Affairs
Jillian’s Contract
Lessons with Mrs. Tavorski
Luke’s Milkmaids
Margeaux Known As
Ménage á Milk
Milk Addict
The Milk Thief
Milke & Cookie
Milking the O’Malleys
Misanthrope – First Summer
My Submissive Pair
Never Too Many Pregos
Pain Makes You Beautiful
Penny’s Secret Life
The Prince’s Whores
The Red Collar
Rosemilk
Selling Myself
Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others
Taking Gwendolyn
The Cheating Secret
The Troll’s Trollop
True Cow Girl
Victor’s Chastity
A Virgin Sacrifice
Without Your Wife
Collections
The Breast of Dawn: The Elf Milk Collection
The Elliot Silvestri Erotic Reader
The Green Bush Publishing Collection Volume 1
The Green Bush Publishing Collection Volume 2
The Green Bush Publishing Collection Volume 3
Roman Charity: Four Tales of Erotic Lactation
Contents
Prologue
“I love you. You don’t know how much I love you.” Adam was on his knees in front of Karli, begging. She hated it. She hated to see people beg. She hated to see men beg in front of her. She knew that some women loved this type of man’s protestations of love, but she despised it. She wasn’t in love with him in any way.
Her look should have told Adam everything, but he was too far gone with lust and love to comprehend. “No, you don’t,” she told him.
“But I do,” he insisted.
“You don’t,” she contradicted him and picked up her shirt from the bed floor. Karli looked around for a moment for her bra, didn’t see it, and put on the shirt to cover her naked breasts as she prepared to leave Adam’s apartment. It wasn’t the first time she’d be walking around in public braless.
“I love your breasts,” he countered.
That gave her half a moment’s pause. His expression of love for a certain part of her body was probably true enough from his point of view. Of course, he most like believed he was truly in love with her and she loved him as well. “I’m not going to stay with a man who thinks loving my breasts is an appropriate emotional response.” As she walked by the couch she found her bra tucked against one cushion. Picking it up she tucked it into her purse.
“But I’ve paid you,” he said almost whining.
“True. But that transaction is done. You got what you paid for. Don’t bother calling me again.”
Suddenly his mood shifted from one of despair to anger. Karli had never been happy with Adam as a client. He was a little off but she had been eager enough for the money so she had pushed aside her concerns until tonight when he started declaring his love. “Whore!” he all but screamed at her. “You’re a fucking whore.”
Karli paused and looked at him. It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. It was doubtful he knew what reaction he was expecting other than for her to throw herself at him and accept his twisted love. Calmly, too calmly, she walked across the living room and calmly slapped him across the face. “I’m not a fucking whore.”
A pink bloom formed on his cheek. “You took money from me.”
Her calmness filtered through her body. “I took money from you because you wanted my breast milk. I would never have sex with you.” She walked away just as calmly, opened the door, and started to walk out.
“I’m going to call the cops on you and report you for being a fucking whore,” he threatened.
She paused. “Do it. Do it and discover that they’re more interested in arresting you.” With that Karli left his apartment.
Chapter One
Karli had always been blessed—or cursed, depending on who was asking and what Karli’s mood was at the time of the question—with large breasts. They started growing in early middle school and didn’t stop all the way through high school. Her opinion on them varied depending on the day, her mood, the time of day, the day of the week, whether the compliments she had received lately had been honest or sarcastic. Some women said they had a relationship with their boobs. Karli didn’t consider herself that type of woman; she didn’t have a relationship with any part of her body: hair, tits, legs, fingernails, appendix, elbow, pussy, knees, or toes. They were merely part of her. She accepted them and dealt with it.
But they were difficult to deal with when the D cups suddenly began to feel too small. Being a senior in high school she had a hundred other things to worry about in addition to her huge tits.
And then they started leaking milk. Karli freaked out and told her mother. After a rushed emergency trip to the doctor she was diagnosed with galactorrhea, spontaneous lactation.
“Do your breasts get a lot of stimulation?” the doctor had asked.
“Can you see these things?” Karli snapped. She held them up for the slim, underweight middle-aged woman to see. “Just walking stimulates them!”
“There’s a chance that a non-cancerous pituitary tumor could be causing it,” friendly Dr. Anne Greenberg said.
After an MRI confirmed nothing was amiss, she was advised to wear softer, more supportive bras and was given a prescription for a medication that should make the condition go away after a few months.
Karli actually enjoyed her professional bra fitting and convinced her mother to spend a ridiculous amount of money on supportive lingerie. Buying pad used by breastfeeding mothers was weird, but slipping them inside her bras during the day soaked up the little bit of milk that leaked out her nipples. Though her mother had the prescription filled, Karli never took the pills. She didn’t like the idea of taking any drug that wasn’t life-saving. There were too many stoners and pill-poppers in her high school.
It was easy to lie to her mother and claim the condition had gone away.
The truth was Karli liked to lay in her bed at night and hand express her excess milk. It was relaxing and good foreplay when she wanted to masturbate.
Going away to college Karli hadn’t given her condition a second thought. She was just another big breasted freshman in a sea of other pretty girls. After dating a few boys and only getting semi-serious about one—she focused on her studies—her milk flow became just a background part of her life, even if she hid the pads used to soak up her excess milk from her roommate.
Sophomore year was a little more difficult. Her financial aid was cut. There were the continual cuts to education in general. There seemed to be very little money coming from home and Karli felt terrible asking for money. She already had a part-time job on campus working for the minimum pay offered to work study programs. The need for more money pushed to find something that was easy and made good money for minimal time and effort.
Nude modeling for the art classes—mostly figure drawing—paid almost twice the rate of everything else on campus but at best she would have two hours per week. She signed up anyway with the encouragement of her new roommate who was a party girl and always looking for trouble. Megan didn’t mind taking off her clothes at the drop of a hat. More than once she ...