Chapter 3

When Asher called to tell me we had a Club Sin match, I'd been in Sydney finalizing the details of an acquisition my father had worked on before his death last year. The boutique hotel he'd wanted to bring into our family's resort portfolio was one he and my mother enjoyed visiting whenever he was in Australia, and it was important to me that I negotiate terms that ensures the facility maintains all the charm and local flair my parents loved.

I almost begged off, the hassle of arranging last minute flights and rushing off after finally getting the deal hammered out feeling like more than a night of fuckery was worth. Then I'd called my mom to tell her we'd settled the deal and heard her happiness, her pride in me working so hard to honor something my dad would have wanted so much. She'd demanded I celebrate and reward myself with time off, and since she's the CEO of the family business' resort arm, now that Dad's gone, I didn't argue.

Now, I'm here in a rumpled suit, fresh from flying across the ocean, wondering if tonight will really happen. It seemed like an impossible ask when we registered our request with the club. How could we realistically expect an absolute stranger to wander in with such a narrowly constructed set of expectations?

We didn't want a club submissive who'd roleplay a dirty hucow fantasy. No amount of imagining a woman trussed up to simulate a nursing mother's breasts full of milk did anything to get my engine going. It wouldn't matter if she were the sexiest woman alive; I have no desire to suck milk through a straw fed through a fake nipple the way milkmaiden porn plays out.

Even terms like hucow and milkmaiden are new to me, so alien to the fetishes I've long had. I'd never even contemplated them before that damned night at the Pleasure Factory. I don't know if I want to curse Lisa and John for that ball-zapping, hot demo or thank them ‘til I'm as blue in the face as my balls have been ever since then.

I've traveled for work almost nonstop since that night, but thanks to internet porn and incognito browsers, I've watched squirts of sticky white milk dripping from heavy tits and jerked myself to images on my tablet screen in hotel rooms across the fucking globe. So when Asher swore the club had found us a real live lactating woman we could milk and fuck to our heart's content, I booked the damn flights and dragged my ass here.

"I think we should wait for her in the room." I suggest. Partly because I don't see anyone here who looks as if she's got breasts I want to nurse and partly because I want to explore the accommodations.

Club Sin's exclusivity means what happens behind their doors won't show up in pictures online. We've been told the room will have everything we need to accommodate a party of our size, and that the room is stocked with either new or professionally sanitized equipment to ensure we can fully explore any lactation or breeding-related activity we wish. Supposedly, there's everything we might need for a traditional D/s scene as well as aftercare materials, too.

The guys like to tease me for being the go-with-the-flow jokester of our group, but I'm also the one who likes to prepare ahead, so I won't stress out once it's go time. My gut is crawling with the urge to ensure the room truly has everything I expect. Now that I've watched enough hucow porn to become an expert, if such thing exists, I've got some very specific expectations for how I want tonight to go down.

"Yeah. Okay. That's probably smart," Asher agrees. I can tell Beck wants to keep looking around at women arriving, but two against one means we're heading for the elevator.

Club Sin encompasses the top six floors of the prestigious Centennial Building in downtown Seattle. It's a pleasant change for a BDSM club to be penthouse level, considering most clubs seem to take the dungeon stereotype seriously. Our room is on the second floor of the club. Room 110. The elevator ride is brief, and we only need to take a couple dozen steps down the hallway to find ourselves in front of the sign marking the room.

Beck keys the code to open the door given to us when we arrived. We each received a private code to use, a safety feature that allows the club to quietly monitor who enters each room when it's reserved. Like everything I've seen so far, the club's commitment to safe exploration of carnal delights impresses me.

"This is…" Asher trails off as we take in the room beyond the door.

I wasn't sure what to expect. The porn I've been watching depicts everything from women penned like cattle in barn settings with mechanical milkers that look like they're meant for udders to clinical exam room like scenes. I've even stumbled onto some where the room is set up like an oversized nursery where adults can regress to infancy and nurse from a mommy Domme.

Although, I can recognize the stress relief that role playing and age regression provides to kinksters, I'm relieved this room neither resembles a barn nor a nursery. Instead, it's a warm bedroom that looks like one a loving couple might share in their family home. A few modifications distinguish it as a kinky haven, but they're subtle, and I appreciate the way they add to the ambience without cheapening it.

"I was a little worried," I confess. Beck walks into the center of the room and spins to face me. He cocks an eyebrow, and I can guess what's coming.

"Guess we've been watching the same porn then," he says. Asher walks to an armoire and peeks inside before opening the ornate wooden door to display shelves of breast pumps and other supplies I only vaguely recognize.

"Definitely glad they didn't go with the barn theme," Asher adds.

"Yeah, I'm allergic to hay. And I don't think my dick would get hard if she starts mooing when her milk starts flowing," I joke.

They laugh, and the three of us move in different directions to explore the room's offerings. Every few minutes, one of us will show the others something cool we've found, our discoveries revealing the similar preferences we share after our independent research. Yes, I'm labeling the copious amount of porn we've watched to prepare for tonight as research.

It doesn't surprise me how well our interests overlap, which makes me wonder how we've never decided to share a woman before now. We're all in agreement that, as long as this girl's willing, we're most interested in stuffing her full of us together while her milk makes a sticky mess everywhere.

I've seen gangbangs plenty of times at various clubs, and while they're hot to watch, I've never felt a driving urge to be party to one. I guess, if there's a milky female at the center of it all, it somehow changes things in my psyche. Just imagining a faceless woman being impaled on Beck's cock while I push into her ass and Asher feeds her his dick has me hard enough to crack stone. I fist my cock with my hand through my pocket just as a softly cleared throat from the doorway breaks the silence.