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    Milk Round
    Milk Round
    Milk Round
    Ebook80 pages1 hour

    Milk Round

    By Vanessa de Sade, Sybil Rush, Jean Roberta and

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    About this ebook

    Five sinfully sexy stories that lay it on with the lactation.

    A Simple Procedure by Vanessa de Sade
    In a dark fairytale forest, voluptuous Gretchen discovers that she is the only woman in the land who has milk to save the royal baby. But the King and Queen have some other ideas, and then, of course, there's a wolf…

    Operation White Gold by Sybil Rush
    Brigit is just an ordinary administrative assistant, bored at work and counting down the minutes until she can take a break to pump her breast milk, when two government agents approach her. They convince her to leave with them, and she soon learns that her milk is the key to a top-secret government operation. Will Brigit volunteer to donate her milk to save her country? And, if she does, can she handle the excruciatingly intense erotic milking that will be required?

    The Trickle-Down Effect by Jean Roberta
    Dee is on maternity leave to care for her baby daughter by her boyfriend, Brian. Dee loves breastfeeding the baby, and secretly adds her milk to Brian’s morning coffee. Brian wants to marry her, but Dee is reluctant to make a legal commitment which might make her feel trapped. Dee comes to realize that no one can predict the future and that Brian has shown himself trustworthy so far. She agrees to marry him.

    Welcome Home! by Maxine Hooper
    In Adrian's absence, Janice makes do with masturbation and in the process discovers the delights of her own breast-milk. She determines that when he comes home he'll be in for a special treat.

    Hot Milk by V.C.

    A wife surprises her husband by incorporating her breast milk into his most favorite meals and treats. While she’s the one that has all the surprises, her husband has one of his own.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHouse of Erotica
    Release dateJul 28, 2015
    ISBN9781783339587
    Milk Round
    Author

    Vanessa de Sade

    Vanessa de Sade is a thirty-something full-figure gal who likes to write hot stories about real women exploring the darker regions of their own sexuality. She is the author of several popular novellas plus the collection, Rubyfruit Jungle.

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      Book preview

      Milk Round - Vanessa de Sade

      1988.

      A Simple Procedure

      Vanessa de Sade

      In a dark fairytale forest, voluptuous Gretchen discovers that she is the only woman in the land who has milk to save the royal baby. But the King and Queen have some other ideas, and then, of course, there’s a wolf...

      Count backwards from ten, a voice whispers; an icy needle sending spider webs of cold kisses down her arm...

      The long winter had been hard on their tiny village, blighting what was left of the meagre crop before the harvest was even fully brought in and turning the normally placid waters of the lake to iron so that no fish could survive.

      And throughout November the bitter north winds continued to blow icy and without respite, their deranged wailing the hysterical keening of wild-haired mad women; and the dark came uncomfortably early each evening, the creaking forest echoing to the baleful howling of rabid wolves throughout the dark hours, the hungry humph-backed beasts circling the barricades in ever-closing circles.

      Alright, she’s going under...

      A dispirited fire still burned in the mayor’s house, skeletal frost-scarred sticks spitting with rage and belching black smoke up into the starry sky, but most of the other huts were without any heat other than their meagre cooking stoves, and the villagers shivered under the cured furs of the bears that had been hunted that summer and should have been sent to the Christmas market in Beiderhoff had not the snows and freezing weather made the roads impassable.

      The extremity of weather had even prompted the Mayor to order the strengthening of their barricade with thorny branches, and the high gates were shut and bolted nightly at dusk, their new bone-white spikes glinting maliciously in the early quicksilver moonlight. People tended to stay indoors most of the time, and would only gather in the square around the giant carving of the rampant grizzly when the gates were bolted; to barter grain or tallow candles for skinny squirrel carcases downed by boys with slingshots that morning, and already stiff with frost and ice.

      The giant effigy that so dominated the clearing had been begun by Karl the Woodcarver in the first blush of last Spring, a score of strong men dragging the huge trunk of a storm-blasted oak into the square and helping him to position it, the tap-tap-tap of his chisels a familiar sound throughout the voluptuous gloaming of the summer evenings when he had completed his daily quota of dancing bears and pecking chickens for market and would commence work on his labour of love.

      And they had all stood around drinking tankards of foaming, slightly-warm, hop beer, watching transfixed as the great beast emerged from the lightning-kissed oak wood, its huge jaws permanently wide in a perpetual roar of defiance as first its head and neck, and then powerful arms, appeared; looking as though the tree were giving birth to a huge furred-and-clawed infant. They had even been planning an official unveiling to mark the Harvest Festival when the cellars would be packed full-to-bursting with grain, and tables laid with starched white cloths in the square, groaning under the weight of preserves and freshly baked gingerbreads, blush-pink hams and tureens of steaming stews.

      But then, in the heat of a balmy Indian Summer night, Karl had disappeared just as the hunters returned with the flayed carcases of mountain bears strapped to their wagons, and while lovers slid naked into the cool emerald waters of the lake, search parties combed the dark woods for him without success.

      OK, we’re in...

      Some said that he had been abducted by bandits, others that he had met with the black witch of the Great North Caves and been stewed alive for sweetbreads; or, most popular of all, that the ancient woodland gods had been so offended by his carving that they had cursed him and his village. A theory given much verisimilitude by the early blizzards and long unending dark.

      And there was still talk of this months later when the evening sky was turning from fiery red to a bruised Prussian blue and the King’s riders came, their regal white horses galloping into the square like snorting dragons just as the men of the watch were preparing to shut the tall gates for the night.

      Citizens! We bring urgent tidings from the royal palace of King Ludwig, they called to the curious faces that were peeping from windows and darkened doorways, their rasping breath like steam in front of their flushed face, hot with exertion and blue with the cold simultaneously. The infant son of their majesties is starving and in dire need of a wet nurse, and any woman volunteering for the position will be richly rewarded. So, who among you is with child or nursing?

      A murmur rose, but, after the first flurry of excitement weary heads were shaken. A rich reward meant food, but there were no swollen bellies or maids with tiny tots in the village that winter, and so there would be none amongst them who could be sent forward to bring them salvation.

      But then someone whispered an unfamiliar name, a low hungry sound, like an ill wind rustling dead leaves in a winter’s grave yard. Gretchen, Gretchen the new girl. She has milk. She will go with you and save the village!

      And, like a demon’s chorus the whole township took up the chant: Yes, Gretchen, Gretchen the new girl, send for Gretchen, and she found herself being pushed, protesting, from her hut to the hard earth of the square where the huge horses stamped and steamed in the shadow of Karl’s unfinished effigy.

      "My people, you are

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