Stings

Davis led her into the room by her leash. She followed behind him dutifully, the thought of doing anything but his whim never once occurring to her. She was naked, as she had been for the last few years: she couldn't even remember the last time she wore anything that actually covered her.

The basement was old and musty, dimly lit by the small electric bulbs that flicked in the stone ceiling. It was an ancient cellar of mortared stone. It was everything a dungeon should look like, including the old torture devices that hung from the walls, or leaned against them, if too large to hang like the stretching rack or the iron maiden. Davis was a bit of a collector of such antiquities, especially those that had been actually used to hurt and kill prisoners. His witch-hunter collection was one of his prides.

She had been dubbed Pain by the other girls that Davis owned. He stripped them of their names when they came into his possession. After all, what did they need names for? He didn't speak to them save to tell them what to do, and they didn't need names to be commanded. But the girls, themselves, took to calling each other by their position in his little harem, and that was fine. At least it served as a constant reminder of their place and role in their lives.

When he came and claimed her from her cage, the other girls had pity in their eyes, knowing Pain's fate in his wicked games, but despite their pity, each was glad that she was not who bore the title. None of them could handle being Pain.

Pain, her head bowed, walked behind her master as he led her through his dungeon, stopping when he stopped, and standing frozen on the cold floor. She would stand there until she fell from weakness or he ordered her otherwise - there was no other option.

He moved in silence as he lifted each hand and cuffed her wrist the opposing ends of a metal pole hanging from a chain above her head. He did the same to her legs, making her spread wide and then shackling her ankles to a metal shaft, forming her out into a large X. He walked behind her, out of her site. The rattle of chains was her only warning before she was jerked up into the air. A few more pulls and he had her feet off the floor by a few inches - just enough that even her toes couldn't touch the stone beneath her.

He was back in front of her, face expressionless as always as he reached up and squeezed her right tit hard. A fine spray of milk squirt from her nipple as he squeezed. She hadn't been milked in days, and that had been her first inclination when he took her from her cage, that he was taking her to milk her tits. Before, he had a slave just for that purpose, milking when he wanted, but she had disappeared a couple years ago, and right after, he had primed Pain for the role, injecting her and pumping her for months until she began to lactate, and then he hooked her up to the machine, and drained her tits over and over in intervals for days on end.

Once her body was trained to produce, he cycled through, some times having her tits milked a few times a day for a couple months, and then not at all for days, letting them grow heavy and full. It hurt to be so full, and her tits leaked all the time, with every bounce as she walked, droplets would well from her nipples and fall. She was forbidden from touching her tits at all during this time, and couldn't give herself any release from the pain.

She had gone for four days without any release, and though the squeeze was terribly painful, the rush of the milk from her swollen tit was absolutely wonderful. It got her wet every time, and she would cum from that alone at times like these. As hard as the machine sucked on her hard, sore nipples when it drained her, as much as the damned thing hurt, she would come over and over while it pumped her tits dry.

But this wasn't a one of those times for the machine. Pain could tell that - Master Davis did not bring her down to the dungeon to hook her up to the machine. Usually, he brought her down here to hurt her, badly - needles, nails, skewers, whips, candles, there was little he would not do to torture her body. And when her tits were this full, there was something in particular he liked: he liked caning her milk-laden udders with a bamboo rod. With each smack of the cane again her tits, a fine stream of milk was squirt out, and much like with the machine, despite the horrible agony of the beating to her tits - which left them red and purple for days after - she would cum several times from the release.

Though, he had never hung her for such things before. Usually, he would make her knee on the floor, her tits spread out on the wooden table for him to crush his stick against.

He was silent as he walked about, seeming to prepare some new, unknown torture for her. Her breath was becoming heavy with the anticipation. Her arms were getting sore, but she could stand to hang much longer then this - it had gotten easier as the years went by in his ownership. She had lost a lot of weight after becoming his slave, surviving on the morsels he fed her and the other girls. True meals were precious rarities that were given when he was well pleased with a slave's behavior. They sought it like a miser seeks gold. The only greater prize was Master's gentle touch, the softest caress of his hand on a cheek or even a word of praise. How the girls sought such treasures!

Pain, though curious, said nothing as he placed the glass globe, looking like a fishbowl, against one of her sagging tits. There was sudden suction, much like the milking machine, but this wasn't attached to her nipple. The suction did cause milk to spray from her tit, but it also caused her tit to slowly get vacuumed into the bowl. The opening was fairly small, but the pull was great, and bit by bit, the flesh of her boob was dragged inside. There was still a fair amount of empty space in the glass bowl, and as Davis undid the hose on the end, the vacuum seal was broken and the suction ended. Her breast, however, remained inside the bowl, the opening it had been sucked through clinging tight to the base of her tit, holding the bowl firming in place.

He repeated the process with her other boob, and once more removed the suction hose when finished, leaving an opening in the end with the empty space. He walked out of her sight for a moment, leaving her hanging there, her tits in the bowls and milk still dripping from her nipples. Her arms were going numb, but her boobs were very sore, not just from being incredibly full, still - the discomfort of the suction lingered.

He returned with a jar in each hand. He didn't say anything, but was quick about his work. He opened one jar and quickly dumped the contents into the opening of the globe, then sealed the globe just as swiftly, as though the contents might somehow escape, but Pain didn't feel that he had added anything, and she couldn't see anything either. He did the same with the second jar, opening the lid, quickly up-ending it into the second globe, then sealing the globe.

Pain was looking down at the globes, curious. Master gave then both a few flicks, which made her tits wobble painfully. She felt something against her flesh - a soft, furry tickling that moved quickly on her one tit. There was a sound from the other globe, a quiet tinkling against the glass. She looked for the source, and nearly gasped in surprise when she saw.

"Do you know why they call them killer bees?" Davis asked, speaking for the first time.

Pain had discovered long ago that he would rather an intelligent guess from his pets then nothing at all. A shrug or stupid answer, that would receive a slap across the face at best. "Because their sting kills, Master?"

"A good guess, but no. They are called that because they are much more aggressive then the common bee, much more territorial. They will attack any perceived threat to the hive if it comes close enough, and the bees don't loose their stinger when they sting their target, so they can deliver multiple shots of venom, unlike the common bee, which will die shortly after one sting." Davis looked up and her and flicked the glass globes again. "These bees were sedated just a little before I brought them in."

With that, he turned and walked out of the room.

Pain held as still as she could, watching in amazement as the bees in the globes slowly came to life. She was having a hard time counting them as they moved about, but she thought she saw five of the insects in each globe.

They were sluggish at first, but as there torpidity wore off, they became much more active, smacking into the glass as they flew around inside, buzzing against her flesh, and crawling across her skin. It tickled as the moved, their furry legs tantalizing her the sensitive skin of her breasts. If she hadn't been so full, she thought that maybe it would be just a minor nuisance, but in her current state, each movement sent a pulse through her body, a mild tingle of pleasure and revolution, and each time she strained to keep from shuddering from the sensation; moving could aggravate the creatures, causing them to attack.

Pain kept her breathing slow and even, and she held herself rigid as she hung from the ceiling. There was little else she could do but wait, and the waiting was driving her crazy. Every instinct in her body as the bugs crawled on her was to reach down and swat them away, or at the very least, to pull away, and she fought with her instincts with every passing second, and like a inch that cannot be scratched, every passing second that she refused to yield to her bodies impulses only made the need to do so all the more pressing. The slow crawling, her muscles' need for movement, her effort to stay still, all of it was wearing on her. Sweat was breaking out all over her body from the strain and tension. She was consumed by dread with the through of what the bee's would do to her should they begin to attack.

She remembered being stung by a bee when she was little. She recalled the ugly red welt it caused, the throbbing pain that made her cry. More aggressive and more potent then that, she couldn't imagine what these insects might do to her, what pain they might inflict. The globs, though fairly solidly in place, were not overly restricting her blood flow, so the venom would not be isolated to her tits, should they begin to attack her. This could, as far as she could tell, kill her.

She held out for a long time, straining against instinct and against the pain of being hung and spread wide for so long. She didn't know how long she had, but she knew her Master. He had some time limit on this - she would not be stuck her forever. He played games, and even his slaves could get through them unscathed; it just was not likely. She had lasted for some time, now, and all she had to do was hold still a bit longer.

It began with a gasp of pleasure she could not contain. All of her fear and anxiety had her tense, and it still made her horny. She hadn't realized the extent to which her predicament was turning her on until on the bees scurried across her right nipple. She shucked in a deep breath, breaking her breathing rhythm, and her boob shook a little. The bee stung her.

Her bit her teeth to keep from crying out from the sharp bite of that first stab. She tried to keep from shaking - the chains were want to swing should she jerked too much, and that would only aggravate the bees in both globes. She thought she might have gotten away with just one stab.

That was not the case. Within moments, the other bees in the right globe where buzzing about the glass wildly. She could each their wings humming inside the glass as they swooped about. She watched, in horror, as one dove down, and right as it met her flesh, another shot of pain. She bit harder into her lip, trying to keep from screaming. Her eyes, however, where glued to the scene, to the insects flashing about in a mad frenzy. They didn't seem to know what to attack, and were launching themselves about, aimlessly smacking into the glass until their wild flight landed them against something they could sting, her flesh.

She kept still and kept quite as they went berserk in the one globe. Her already pained tit hurt worse and worse with every sting, sending fiery torment burning deep into her flesh. After the first few stings, she couldn't feel anymore, that entire region was just engulfed with heat. The glass felt like it was warming against her skin, and her right boob reddened and swelled before her tear-streaked eyes. She could see it seeping deeper and deeper into the bowl, the mouth slowly getting tighter as the flesh within grew.

And then, the familiar feeling of release. Her milk was dribbling out at first, but as her tits continued to swell, the pressure grew more and more until a steady stream was shooting from her hot, sore nipple. Mingled with the excruciating pain, it was one of the more incredible sensations she had known, and as the globe began to fill with her own tit milk, a gentle tingle began to grow in her body. It grew faster and faster as her flow continued, and moments later, she was calling out as her orgasm crashed through her. All her fear and tension exploded into a mind-numbing quake of pleasure that shook her entire body as she hung from the ceiling.

A sharp stab and searing pain spread across her left tit. Her climax had aggravated the bees in the other globe, and unlike the others, these seemed to attack in unison from all sides. After the first great blow, and a couple lesser stabs after, her left tit was equally numb to their attacks and poison. It, too, was turning beet red and swelling before her eyes. And like her right breast, as her flesh swelled from the venom and the globe warmed from the heat of her skin, milk seeped from her nipples, squeezed out from the tightness growing in her tit. Another orgasm built with in her, and once more she erupted, screaming in pleasure as she squealed in pain and torment, her body shaking as she hung.

It was some time later when Master Davis showed back up to release her. The globes where filled with swollen, ugly tit-flesh and milk. Five dead bees were crushed up against the glass in both globes. He shook his head as he appraised the slack form that hung limply from the metal rod, drooping from weakness. She was barely conscious, her mind numbed from the pain, the venom, and the pleasure. She was babbling, completely unaware of her she was, though she still whispered his name adoringly over and over in her feverish state.

He would take her back to the other girls, and they would break the globes from her tits, pluck the stingers from her flesh, and gently rub the salve over the wounds. In a few days, she would be fine and ready to be milked again. He had only let her hang for a couple hours, and she ended up like this. It was a good thing he hadn't used the killer bees this time, or he wouldn't have a chance to play with this pet again, and he had so many more games in store for her before he was done.