<strong>Candy, at the poolside with Ms. Prideux and other unknown owners &amp; dogs</strong><br/><br/>More people.. I dearly hoped she wouldn't talk for long. If the carrot was coming I wanted it sooner rather than later, and if it wasn't I'd rather be put out of my misery... that too sooner, rather than later. I caught snippets of the conversation Ms. Prideux was having with the man, also with a dog of his own, but most of what I heard meant little to me, until<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>...didn't think virgin dogs existed, it must be a chance in a million she didn't get deflowered a dozen times on the way here..."</strong></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>My mind flicked back to my journey, nothing but a series of dim, cloudy memoires. I must have been sedated for most of the trip.. was I raped on the way here? Had men taken my limp body and... I shook my head, my ears flopping. It was stupid to think about it. What had happened had happened, and I thanked God I couldn't remember anything if it had. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I only caught the end of what Ms. Prideux was saying to me and the man.<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>-when it dawns on them how much fun this can be when they're usually fixated on the fear and rage and injustices of it all. Silly thing!"</strong></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>I looked up as soon as I caught her talking, hoping I hadn't missed anything. As she patted my head, another thought entered it- did she really care for my wellbeing? After all this, did she? I wanted to think she did, but that little, optimistic part of me knew that when crushed, it'd send me even deeper into despair. I tried to blank it out, overpower it with my pessimism, but it refused to be properly forgotten.<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"Milking? Are you going to? That might be a bit traumatic for her on a first day. I was going to take care of Candy manually later but if you're going to have... you've not named her yet, hm? Well, if you're going to have your little bitch milked I might put Candy in a stall beside her so they can keep each other company."</strong></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/><strong>Milking</strong>? The word caught my attention as Ms. Prideux sat down. Milking? My brow furrowed for an instant, before my eyes lit up as another puzzle piece slotted into place. My breasts! They were... I bowed my head down to look at my chest, eyes widening in shock. There was a milky white drop of liquid at the end of each nipple, and as I looked down to the floor I saw two very small puddles, both quickly evaporating in the sun. That was why my breasts were heavy and aching. They were full of milk. And I was lactating... My attention was drawn to my breasts now, and the pain was brought more sharply into focus. It- Suddenly, another part of Ms. Prideux's sentense floated back into my mind...<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><em>if you're going to have your little bitch milked I might put Candy in a stall beside her...</em></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>Stalls? Surely they couldn't have been talking about milking stalls? They couldn't.. could they? I began to whimper loudly- they did mean it. I knew they meant it. I didn't want to be milked. I didn't want to be hooked up to some damn machine... did I? The ache in my breasts remained, and I knew now that it would remain<span class="bbc_u">until</span>I was milked. I was caught in a dilemma of both wanting and not wanting to be relieved. It was horrible.<br/><br/>I was so wrapped up in my thoughts of milking I barely noticed the dog that had been looking at me, another female who looked just as miserable as I felt. I tried to feel sorry for her, I really did, but I was suffering too much humiliation myself.<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"Up Candy, all fours,"</strong></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>I slowly rose up onto all fours, knowing why she'd made me do it- through her thick French accent I'd heard the other woman order her dog to lick me. I burnt red, this time out of shame. I knew the girl now behind me must have been captured and been an animal like me for about as long as I had. I knew she must have been suffering just as much as me, and knew that to lick me would only increase her own embarrassment... But I wanted her to lick me. I wanted her to lose control and bring me to orgasm with her warm, wet tongue. I didn't know how to do it, but I focused my mind on my behind... on my tail. Effortlessly it starting wagging side to side- I had full control of its motion. I kept it wagging and I gently shook my behind- I was inviting her to lick. It was pathetic, and I knew it.