Finishing off with the live stock

You pull your cock from Millie's throat with a wet pop, and she gasps, a desperate cough rattling through her chest. Her mouth stays open, tongue lolling, waiting for the next command. You grab the back of her head, fingers twisting into her sweat-soaked hair, and push her face toward your groin.

"Suckle on them softly, girl," you grunt.

She doesn't hesitate. Her lips part, and her mouth closes around your left ball, drawing it inside with a soft, wet suction. Her tongue moves in slow, circular motions, lapping at the sensitive skin. You groan, your hand moving to your cock, gripping the shaft slowly, stroking yourself as you watch her.

She pulls back, releasing the first ball with a wet pop, then takes the second one into her mouth. Same rhythm. Same soft, worshipful flick of her tongue. Her eyes are half-lidded, glazed, her cheeks hollowed as she sucks. She looks like she's tasting something precious.

You lift your balls, cupping them in your palm, and dangle them into her open mouth. She opens wider, taking both into her wet warmth. You laugh, low and rough. "Look at you. Such a willing little whore. Taking my whole sack like it's a treat."

Her only answer is a muffled hum, her tongue working beneath the soft flesh. Spit drips down her chin.

You hold her there for a long moment, savoring her degradation, the way she doesn't pull away, doesn't resist. She's just skull and tongue and need. Then you release her, letting her mouth fall empty again. She gasps for air, her chest heaving, milk beading on her nipples.

"Had enough, you greedy cunt?" you say, but there's amusement in your voice. You step closer, shoving your cock back between her lips. She takes it immediately, her throat opening to receive you.

You grip the metal bars her shackles are chained to, using them for leverage as you thrust into her mouth. Slow, deliberate thrusts, watching her throat bulge. Your other hand drops to one of her swollen tits, palming the heavy weight. Milks runs over your fingers, warm and slippery. You squeeze, kneading the engorged flesh, rolling the massive, abused nipple between your thumb and forefinger.

She moans around your cock, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. Her body shudders, legs twitching in the shackles.

"Sometimes a man needs something to play with while he's getting his cock serviced," you say, your voice a low growl. You pinch her nipple hard, twisting it. She whimpers, her throat working around your shaft.

You fuck her mouth with the rhythm of your hand on her tit, slow and controlling. She takes it all, her jaw slack, her throat a willing channel of heat. You can feel her surrender in every slick swallow, every desperate hum. She's milking you with her mouth, her tongue lapping the underside of your cock with every pull back.

You groan, your hips picking up speed. It doesn't take long. The heat of her throat, the sighing milking machines, the wet sounds of submission—all of it pushes you closer. You feel the pressure building at the base of your spine.

"Fuck," you grunt, your hand tightening on her tit, pulling her face deeper onto your cock. Her nose presses into your groin, her throat convulsing around the head of your shaft as you pump a thick, hot load directly into her esophagus.

She swallows automatically, her body jerking with each spurt, her eyes rolling back. Some of it leaks from the corners of her mouth, mixing with spit and tears.

You pull out slowly, letting her gasp for breath, her body slumped against the shackles. You watch her for a moment, her swollen tits still glistening, her cunt dripping, her mouth hanging open, cum-streaked.

Then you reach down and pick up the milking vacuum cups from the floor. You press one back onto her nipple, the hard plastic locking in place with a click. She hisses, arching her back, as the suction pulls her aching teat back into the machine. You fit the second one, watching the machine kick back to life, the milk pulsing through the transparent tube.

She slumps forward, eyes half-closed, lost in the haze of use.

You turn and walk out of the breeding shed, your cock still wet from her mouth, the breeder's rough laughter and the moans of shackled girls fading behind you. The school halls are quiet now, the air-conditioned, clean. You adjust your pants, heading back toward your office.

Amber will be waiting. There's always more to do.