A Femdom Milking Story

A Tale of Domination, Control, and Unrelenting Release

The room was dimly lit, with just enough light to accentuate every subtle curve and hard edge. Soft leather furniture lined the walls, and in the middle stood a steel chair—cold, unyielding, and unmistakably designed for one purpose. He was already naked, kneeling on the floor with his cock aching for release, but he knew better than to touch it without permission.

She stepped into the room, towering in her black latex corset, her legs wrapped in thigh-high boots that clung to her skin like a second layer. The sharp click of her stilettos echoed through the silence, heightening his arousal, and his dick pulsed with anticipation. Mistress Olivia wasn’t just a dominant—she was a goddess who reveled in complete control. And tonight, he would experience what true control meant.

Her eyes flashed as she looked down at him, her lips curling into a sly smile. "You've been eager, haven't you?" Her voice was silky, dripping with authority. She moved closer, her presence electrifying. Her leather-gloved hand reached out, grasping his chin firmly, forcing him to meet her gaze. "But tonight isn’t about what you want. It's about what I want."

He could already feel his cock twitching, and she hadn’t even touched him yet. The anticipation was nearly unbearable, and every part of his body was hypersensitive. He could already imagine what was coming, but the thought made his heart race even more. He’d never been edged to the point of pure torment like this.

Olivia finally released his chin and sauntered over to the chair. "Up." Her command was sharp, leaving no room for hesitation. He scrambled to his feet, his cock bobbing in front of him as he obeyed. She gestured for him to sit down on the steel chair, and as he did, she wasted no time. She swiftly secured his wrists to the armrests, followed by his ankles to the legs of the chair, leaving him helpless and completely at her mercy.

Mistress Olivia ran her gloved hands along his thighs, coming dangerously close to his throbbing cock but never quite touching. "Look at you... so hard already," she teased, her breath hot against his skin. "You're going to cum for me. But not because you want to. You’ll cum when I decide you're ready."

Her fingers trailed up to his chest, tweaking his nipples, eliciting a groan from deep within him. His body tensed, desperate for more contact, but she stepped back with a laugh. "Oh no, we're just getting started."

She reached into a nearby drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube and a milking machine designed specifically for this kind of intense, controlled release. His eyes widened at the sight of it—he’d heard about them but had never experienced one firsthand. Olivia poured the slick liquid over her gloves, and then, with deliberate slowness, she coated his cock in the cool, slippery substance.

"You're going to beg me to let you cum," she purred, positioning the suction cup of the machine at the tip of his cock. "But we'll see how long you can hold out."

The machine hummed to life, and the suction began, gently at first but gradually increasing in intensity. His cock throbbed in response, and the sensation of the machine rhythmically squeezing and releasing sent waves of pleasure through him. His body strained against the restraints, but there was no escape from the relentless stimulation.

Mistress Olivia leaned over him, her face inches from his. Her gloved hand reached between his legs, cupping his balls and squeezing just hard enough to make him gasp. "You’re mine now. Every drop of your cum belongs to me."

The machine pumped with a steady, insistent rhythm, and his cock was swollen, the head glistening with pre-cum that leaked from the tip. His moans grew louder as the pleasure built inside him, but every time he got close to the edge, she’d slow the machine down, denying him the sweet release he so desperately craved.

"Please, Mistress," he whimpered, his voice strained with desperation.

"Not yet," she replied coldly, tightening her grip on his balls. "You'll cum when I say, and not a second before."

He could barely think straight, his entire world reduced to the aching need in his cock. His body shuddered with every pulse of the machine, and his hips bucked involuntarily, trying to chase the orgasm that always seemed just out of reach.

Mistress Olivia finally stood up, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She released the pressure on his balls, stroking them instead, her fingers moving in perfect sync with the machine. His whole body tensed as he felt the orgasm begin to crest.

"Beg for it," she commanded, her voice low and dangerous.

"Please, Mistress," he gasped, his voice trembling. "Let me cum. I need to cum."

A wicked smile spread across her face. "That’s better. Cum for me."

With those words, she increased the speed of the machine, the suction now impossibly strong, and his body finally gave in. His cock erupted, thick ropes of cum shooting out, spilling over the edges of the cup and coating the machine. He groaned loudly, his entire body convulsing with the force of his orgasm, every muscle clenching as the pleasure consumed him.

But Mistress Olivia didn’t stop. The machine kept milking him, dragging out every drop of cum, pushing him past the point of pleasure into sheer, overwhelming overstimulation. He writhed in the chair, his cock still pulsing but now unbearably sensitive.

"That’s right," she whispered, her voice filled with dark satisfaction. "You’ll give me everything."

Tears pricked his eyes as the milking machine relentlessly continued its work, drawing out more cum than he thought possible. His cock was aching now, the overstimulation bordering on painful, but Mistress Olivia showed no mercy.

When she finally turned off the machine, his body slumped in the chair, utterly spent. His cock was still twitching, covered in a mixture of cum and lube, and his mind was hazy with the aftermath of the intense release.

Mistress Olivia untied him and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Good boy," she whispered. "You did well."

As she walked away, leaving him trembling and exhausted in the chair, he couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of relief and longing. He knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. And deep down, he was already craving the next time she would push him to the edge—and beyond.

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