Breast Milk Masochism

Jennifer’s breasts ached as she moved. That was alright, though. She liked that.

Lifting her arms above her head with a sigh, she slowly moved her body into the next yoga pose. Bending her forward leg, she stretched the other out behind her, the motion naturally making her upper body curve to push out her sore, heavy chest. Both of her breasts lifted as she raised her arms, sending little sparkles of pain up her spine. Biting her lip, she forced herself to hold the pose, even though the damp spot on her yoga pants was already down to mid thigh.

Ever since she had hit puberty, Jennifer had been particularly well endowed through the chest. Once she had begun to develop, she’d filled out quickly, reaching a C-cup before some of her peers were even out of training bras. This had made her an object of some envy in the early years of high school, alongside a few other fortunate girls with a similar physique. However, where the growth of other girls had stopped, Jennifer’s breasts had kept going. While other large-chested girls began to show signs of sagging or lopsidedness, she stayed pert even as she bought her first E-cup bra, the size of each breast in perfect symmetry. At reaching an F-cup, Jennifer’s parents had started to worry about back issues, and taken her to a doctor for recommendations about a reduction. She’d viciously fought against the possibility, though mostly out of a rebellious urge rather than any real sense of pride in her chest, and so instead of surgery had instead been given a strict exercise routine to strengthen her core.

Every day since then, Jennifer had worked out diligently to maintain a strong abdomen and lower back, and as a result had never experienced so much as a twinge of backache from her breasts. As an added ‘side effect’ of her daily workout, she also maintained a healthy weight with ease, staying fit and energetic all through her life. Now an adult, her body had filled out into a top-heavy curve, with wide hips that were still overshadowed by her ridiculously massive bust. Though she’d finished growing, she’d had to begin buying specialty N-cup bras to hold her chest in check, each firm, high breast fully larger than her head. If she lifted her tits up with her arms, she didn’t even have to bend her neck to bring her puffy pink nipples within reach of her own lips.

Reaching a count of forty in her head, Jennifer shifted to the next pose. Her arms spread out in a ‘T’, one pointed ahead of her, the other behind. Her legs were to stay in the same position as the previous pose, though she shifted from her left leg being in front, instead stretching it behind and bending her right leg before her, knee making a nearly 90 degree angle. Having her arms pointed forward and back like this made her torso twist slightly to the side, one bicep pressing against the side of her voluptuous breast. The bare skin was tight and firm, noticeably hotter than the flesh of her arm. She shivered in arousal, then started to count again.

With such perfect and oversized breasts, Jennifer had been the object of intense male attention ever since freshman year. Naturally shy, she’d rejected the advances of her classmates for a long time, going so far as to shun public socializing almost completely outside of school. Instead, she had turned to the internet for her social needs, immersing herself in many cultures and hobbies, learning about things online while meeting a lot of new people. For the most part this had been a very good experience, and had helped her to avoid the stress and embarrassment of being constantly ogled, her online friends having no clue about her extreme endowment.

However, in all her browsing, she had also come across something that every young person soon finds online. Pornography.

Down that rabbit hole had come an exposure to ideas and kinks that the young Jennifer had never dreamed of in her wildest pubescent fantasies. She saw her first cock in high-definition detail, wide eyes taking it in upon her screen. In videos and pictures, she found women with breasts even larger than her own, giving her a certain sense of security in knowing she wasn’t the only one in the world who was so extremely endowed. As she continued to browse, she had homed in on the things that turned her on most, finding them from amid the limitless spectrum of debauchery available online. Certain fetishes attracted her over and over, slowly sticking to her growing sexuality and becoming integral parts of it. Unsurprisingly, these kinks had all focused heavily upon her breasts.

It was time to reposition again. Knowing her routine by heart, Jennifer felt a faint sense of trepidation, fully expecting this pose to be the hardest 40 seconds of her day. Straightening up, she carefully moved her entire body into a long vertical line, arms upraised and legs together. Then, precariously balancing on one foot, she tilted her torso forward and one leg back, until her entire body was a lopsided ‘T’ shape with her pelvis forming the juncture. The position made the wet fabric of her yoga pants rub up against her pantiless pussy, and her heavy breasts threatened to pull her off balance as they hung. Her supporting leg trembled, making her chest jiggle and causing little waves of pain to move through her, which in turn sent shivers of arousal up her spine. Jennifer let herself begin to moan as she held the pose, softly and repetitively, focusing on the throbbing in her chest and pussy. A current of pain and pleasure sparked between them like negative and positive terminals on a battery, surging with each beat of her heart.

It was impossible to count how many times over her life she’d cum to a video of breast abuse, watching a girl with tits like hers getting them beaten and bruised, pierced or cut, whipped or tied. Some of this she’d carefully tried on herself while alone. These experiments had quickly lead her to discover something about herself, a revelation that appeared in her mind as she choked on cries of pain, tears running down her cheeks while she came harder than she ever had in her life. While she’d known she was a masochist almost as soon as she’d found BDSM porn, she’d learned that hurting her tits turned her on like nothing else. Perhaps because of the sexual attention they garnered, her breasts had become something obscene in her mind, a nexus for all her perverted desires and feelings.

As she explored her masochism more and more, Jennifer slowly became fascinated with the idea of being mistreated because of her huge tits, addressed and used like some sex toy instead of a person. Though she’d refrained from relationships, she found that she loved the idea of being someone’s slut, worth no more than the pleasure her body could give. In her fantasies, her breasts marked her for what she was, and were a focal point of any degradation and mistreatment at the hands of her master. When she was feeling particularly horny and experimental, she’d write filthy things on them in marker, or practice giving submissive titjobs to one of her dildos, spitting onto her cleavage for lubrication.

Finally reaching the count of forty, Jennifer let her trembling body relax out of the torturous posture. A small whine escaped her lips as she placed her back foot against the ground once more, forming an upside-down ‘V’ with her legs. The shift of weight had made her chest throb, but it was nothing compared to the pain that ran through her when she next moved, twisting her torso to the side and spreading her arms. One hand touched her forward foot, the other trembling arm pointed up towards the ceiling. As her breasts had gone from hanging straight down to hanging almost sideways, they’d bounced against each other, sending such an ache of agony through Jennifer that she almost collapsed.

Even more exciting than either of her earlier fetishes, however, was a more recent sexual fascination.

After graduating from college, Jennifer had reconnected with an old friend. The young woman had already started a family, and though Jennifer had different plans for her own life, she didn’t necessarily disapprove. She’d played with the cute baby, endured some breastfeeding jokes from her friend’s husband, and spent a week doing some babysitting to let the newlyweds have some alone time.

Around that time, she had started lactating.

This had concerned her slightly, along with evoking other, more complicated emotions. Looking it up online, she’d found that exposure to a newborn baby could make some women lactate, a supposed sympathetic response brought on by pheromones. For her it had come on especially quickly, it seemed.

Even after she’d stopped caring for the baby, she’d continued to express milk. Intrigued more than she’d expected to be, she’d squeeze out a few drops of pure whiteness from her puffy nipples each day, and the routine had kept her leaking. More and more started to come out as she started to milk herself while watching lactation porn, offering to do her friend’s laundry in the hopes that exposure to the pheromones in the clothes would keep her milky. Together these increased her production enough that she had to start wearing pads in her bra when she went out, though since she mostly worked from home that was a rare need. In private, she’d go around in a t-shirt and bra, waiting until the milk stains showed through, then masturbating furiously while roughly milking herself.

It was time for the resting poses, and Jennifer lowered herself into the first of them with a shudder of relief. Her body ached from the exercise, but it was nothing compared to how her naked breasts throbbed. Placing herself on hands and knees, arms straight and shins against the floor, she looked down at her own chest. They’d been N-cups before, and she’d never expected them to grow any bigger. Now, they were large O’s.

In time, her burgeoning new fetish had grown into an obsession.

She’d bought a pump first, starting to use it to milk herself every day. Usually, she’d have a vibrating wand pressed against her pussy the entire time her milk was pouring out, watching it spurt from herself with a low moan of arousal coming from her throat. Soon she had become infatuated with the idea of producing as much milk as she could, and acquired some medicine and supplements through sometimes questionable means. Estradiol, domperidone, fenugreek – anything that she thought could increase that warm, delicious flow from her nipples. Adjustments to her diet had let her keep up the constant outlet of nutritious milk, and though her body had still increased slightly in weight, it was all to the benefit of her curves.

Combined with the constant milking and her natural breast size, after three months of lactating Jennifer had eventually measured herself at an average output of 115 oz per day.