Der Geschmack Der Folter – 3

Der Geschmack Der Folter – 3: A Sadistic Milk Misadventure in the Park

It was a warm summer day, and usoired am in the park, basking in the sun’s gentle rays as I lounged on a patch of soft, emerald grass. The gentle rustling of leaves and chirping of birds created a tranquil symphony that soothed my weary soul. Little did I know that my peaceful afternoon was about to take a shocking turn.

As I lay there, lost in my thoughts, a shadow suddenly fell across my face. I opened my eyes to find a stunning brunette woman towering above me, her curves accentuated by a tight, low-cut blouse and a short, flowing skirt. She wore sheer black stockings that hugged her long, slender legs like a second skin.

“Wir haben ein Problem, Schlampe,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. I had no idea what she was saying, but the venom in her tone was unmistakable.

I sat up, bewildered, as she reached into her bag and pulled out a length of rope. Before I could utter a word, she yanked me to my feet and began binding my wrists tightly behind my back. The rough fibers digging into my skin sent a shiver down my spine.

“What are you doing? Stop this madness!” I cried out, squirming in protest. She only laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that chilled me to the bone.

Once she had me securely restrained, she grabbed my arm and dragged me deeper into the park, away from prying eyes. My heart pounded in my chest as I stumbled alongside her, my mind racing with thoughts of what she might have in store for me.

Finally, she stopped in a secluded grove and shoved me roughly to the ground. I landed on my back, blinking up at her as she loomed over me, her eyes glinting with malicious intent.

“Du wirst mich nicht noch mal enttäuschen, du Miststück,” she hissed, reaching for the buttons of her blouse. My eyes widened as she slowly undid them, revealing her ample cleavage barely contained by a lacy black bra.

What on earth was she doing? And why did her words sound so familiar, despite the language barrier? A sinking feeling of dread washed over me as the pieces began to fall into place.

“I think I understand,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You’re going to…milk me, aren’t you?”

She flashed me a wicked smile, her red lips curling back to reveal pearly white teeth. “Sehr gut, Schlampe. Du hast es begriffen.”

I cringed as she yanked down the cups of her bra, exposing her full, heavy breasts. They swung pendulously as she straddled my chest, her knees digging into my arms. The wetness seeping through my shirt told me that her nipples had already begun to leak.

Instinctively, I turned my head away, refusing to look at her in this state of degradation. With a growl of annoyance, she grabbed my hair and wrenched my head back, forcing me to stare up at her.

“Schau hin, du Drecksstück,” she spat, shaking her breasts in my face. The crescents of liquid spattering my cheeks and lips confirmed that she was indeed lactating.

“Please, let me go,” I whimpered pathetically. She ignored my pleas, instead leaning down until her hardened nipples brushed my mouth.

“Egal welchen Straßenstrich du sonst benutzt hast, ich bin deine Herrin jetzt und ich bestimme, wann du fertig bist,” she sneered, pressing her dripping tits against my lips.

I had no choice but to open my mouth, letting her force her engorged nipples past my teeth. The taste was intense – salty and metallic, with an earthy undertone that made me gag. She seemed to enjoy my discomfort, laughing as shewwalkeded my head from side to side, smearing her milk across my face.

“Leck sie, Miststück,” she commanded, shoving her tit deeper into my mouth. I had no choice but to begin suckling, my tongue swirling around the nipple as I tried to drain her of the offending liquid.

The taste was almost overwhelming, but I forced myself to drink every last drop until her teat ran dry. She switched to the other one, tormenting me with its malodorous essence until finally, blessedly, it was over.

She climbed off of me, her face flushed with sadistic glee. I lay there, gasping for air and tears streaming down my face, utterly humiliated by what I had just endured.

With a smirk, she reached into her bag one last time and tossed a crumpled bill at my chest. “Nimm das, du wertlose Hure. Du hast dir eine Reitpause verdient.”

Then, with a swish of her skirt, she turned on her heel and sauntered out of the grove, leaving me broken and sobbing on the damp grass. I had never felt so used, so utterly degraded in my entire life.

As I struggled to free myself from my bonds, I reflected bitterly on the cruel twist of fate that had brought me to this humiliating state. I had wanted nothing more than a peaceful afternoon in the park, but instead, I had been reduced to little more than a glorified cow, milked for the sadistic pleasure of a cruel dominatrix.

I knew I would never forget this horrific experience, the taste of that woman’s repulsive milk seared into my memory for all eternity. And as I finally managed to worm free of my restraints and stagger out of the grove, I swore that I would never again trust a beautiful woman in a park on a summer day.