CANDY, WAKING UP IN HER NEW HOME<br/><br/>I woke up. My head felt fuzzy, and I hurt. A lot. And I didn’t know where I was.<br/><br/>My breasts hurt the most. One of the first things I’d noticed that had been done to me – you know, after I got over the shock of it – was that my breasts were<em>huge</em>. With fine little golden rings piercing the nipples. And they almost always felt full, and swollen … uncomfortably so, and sometimes painful. I figured out fairly quick that apart from being chemically induced to be, well, constantly horny, my breasts had been made to produce milk, and to lactate. If I wasn’t properly ‘milked’ they’d started to secrete drops of milk, dripping down the golden rings … and dear<em>god</em>did it hurt.<br/><br/>To my utter horror, I needed to be milked. Like a cow. And as thoroughly degrading as that was, it felt<em>wonderful</em>. Being drained, having that sweet sense of guilty relief as the swelling went down, as the milk was sucked free from them in generous spurt … whenever it happened, the feeling was marvelous. It also felt good enough to make me quite the horny little puppy – sorry,<em>girl</em>– enough so that I began to feel excited whenever I was led to a milking machine.<br/><br/>Yes, the machine … I preferred that. Very much. I felt guilty enough being turned on by having my giant breasts milked, having it done by machine made it feel more like … I don’t know. Masturbating? I’d rarely been forced to mix the naughty sensation of being milked with the sensation of being fucked. It’d happened once, at the Club – some depraved little seventeen-year old girl saw me, eagerly stripped off her clothes, and began ravenously sucking the milk from my breasts while she finger-fucked me to several orgasms. She’d laughed and giggled as she fucked me, kissing me with a mouthful of my own warm milk at one point … it was one of the most depraved and disgusting and delightful sensations … I wanted it, again, as much as I hated it. Mercifully, I’d never been fucked while placed in a milking machine, although I saw that being done to other dogs, and found myself craving it while watching it … I don’t know if I’d be able to handle that. The lovely sensation of being milked, while having a nice thick cock ramming me from behind …<br/><br/>Ahem. Sorry.<br/><br/>Anyway, when I awoke, drops were leaking madly from my painfully swollen boobs … I think that was the longest I’d ever gone, without being milked. I began to whimper and whine, like a dog … I didn’t know if my new owners intended for me to speak, and I wasn’t going to give them an excuse to punish me.<br/><br/>The drugs used to knock me out also kept me a little woozy. So as I got to my feet – sorry, as I began crawling around on my hands and knees – I stumbled, moving uneasily around unfamiliar surroundings. I was in a room, pristine and opulent, with nice furniture and a large bookshelf. Candles, unscented, burned prettily on a coffee table. I noticed a large television as well, though it wasn’t switched on.<br/><br/>And doors … doors with rounded doorknobs.<br/><br/>Doors that my stupid puppy paws couldn’t open.<br/><br/>For a moment, I wanted to cry. And scream.<br/><br/>And then, just like a thousand other times a day, I forced that impulse to go away.<br/><br/>I could smell things, too.<br/><br/>I could smell the scent of another dog. It came from the couch. Oddly enough, it seemed familiar, though I didn’t know why.<em>Perhaps another dog from the Club?</em>I thought. That seemed oddly comforting and sad, all at the same time. If there was another dog, I hoped it wasn’t like me … I hoped it was fully converted, dumb and happy. If it wasn’t … well, I might have a friend to commiserate with, but I wouldn’t ever wish this hell on anyone else.<br/><br/>And then something else … something spicy? I couldn’t quite place it. Although it was faint, it was distinctly pungent.<br/><br/>A door opened. I saw two figures walking towards me. Still sort of woozy, I couldn’t make out much more than their silhouettes, though one smelled much like the man who’d brought me to this strange new apartment.<br/><br/>I whined some more, and did my best to smile, hoping that they’d milk me. At that point, I didn’t care if they used their mouths or a machine … my breasts hurt badly, and I desperately craved the sweet relief of a milking.