You're not going to listen to this bitch!

Anger flares in you that this monster-fucking whore would smack your ass or talk down to you. More than one occasion pops into your mind in which Winny was bucking atop a potbellied orc in the training pit or bobbing her lips on the glistening cock of a creature one mutant step away from a mollusc with gonads. She is the one who should be bred with monsters. Just look at her.

"I wouldn't want to steal away all of your lovers," you say to her. "I'm sure they've grown quite fond of your tender care."

Winny pauses, anger flashing on her face, and then her cruel smile returns, seemingly wider than before.

"I don't even know how you made it off that island," you continue. "With all those hard monster cocks to please. It seemed like an inexhaustible supply."

Winny actually laughs. "You're hilarious, my little fucktoy. You know we have cameras in that disgusting cave you share with your puppy? I've watched how you howl with pleasure and jiggle those fat tits while your furry friend mounts you. Oh, the drooling, the eyes rolled back."

Her hand collides suddenly with your ass, much harder than before, and the slap against your tender flesh rings loudly.

She moans, "Maul! Oh Maul! Fuck me!"

She slaps you twice more, prompting you to gasp. You snap at the restraints, snarling with anger, producing another cruel laugh from Winny. She smacks your plump posterior with a flurry of blows, your cheeks stinging and flushed with her spanking. Winny rubs your sore bottom and speaks in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"Who is going to be sucking your poor puppy's cock with you in the breeding pens? Lathering it up? Maybe I'll have a dog sent in there. A wonderful golden retriever. He won't notice the difference."

"Fuck you!" is all you can think to scream.

"You're such a miserable litle cow," says Winny, moving back to your face so you can see her. She shuts off the milking machine and the cups drop from your sore nipples. Milk drips from your raw, distended nipples. They are surrounded by red rings where the over-charged cups actually bit into your titflesh. Winny admires the half-filled reservoir of your breastmilk. A good half liter of the creamy liquid sloshes in the container. "Not bad. Your tits are so big and productive, but a cow needs to be milked like one."

Winny produces a metal bowl from a nearby shelf and drops it beneath your hanging breasts. You struggle to get at her, snarling through gritted teeth, but your futile efforts only make her laugh. She sits down very close to you on a footstool and you feel her fingers sliding over your sensitive nipples. She looks down at you with a victorious smile and roughly yanks both. You cry out in pain, tears squeezing from the corners of your eyes as she pulls them down, aiming them at the bucket. After a few painful tugs you hear a metal plink from the bowl as she produces a stream of milk.

You are helpless as she savagely milks your painfully stretched nipples like the teets of a milk cow, laughing with each cry of pain and admiring the streams of milk that begin to fill the bowl. Your face burns with humiliation. Tears stream down your cheeks. You want to kill her, but you can do nothing to stop her from milking you like some penned animal.

Finally, Winny seems satisfied. She lifts the bowl up, tilting it so you can see there are several ounces of white liquid filling the bowl.

"I always wondered if your milk was seet," she says and then tips the bowl to her lips. You watch as her throat works and she swallows the milk. It overflows her lips and spills down her chin, splattering into her cleavage. She casts aside the bowl with a clatter and presses her lips violently to yours, forcing your mouth open with her tongue and spitting a large quantity of milk into your mouth. You can do nothing but swallow, but as she presses her tongue in and explores your mouth, you bite her lower lip.

"Ahhh!" she cries, pulling away. There is a drop of blood on her lip. She wipes it off and, seeing the blood, her anger grows. "Bad girl! Bad!"

She takes out a curving, thick metal band from her jacket's pocket and quickly snaps it around your neck. She has a small black fob, no bigger than a car's alarm control. She presses a red button on the remote and your body contorts in the restraints as electric agony shoots through every muscle. You gasp as the pain stops and you sag in the milking stand.

"I'd hoped you would be a good girl and cooperate, but I see you will have to be given the proverbial stick. I can't say that I won't enjoy using it."

She shocks you again, causing you to cry out and twist as much as possible in your restraints.

"Now," she says, releasing the button, "I can make you do whatever I want. Like a good girl. Nice and obedient. Allow me to demonstrate."