The Milk b***h Trilogy

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without prior written permission from the publisher. For information contact: Pink Flamingo Publications www.pinkflamingo.com P.O. Box 632 Richland, MI 49083 USA Cover Image © Copyright Ludovic Goubet www.ludovicgoubet.com Email Comments: comments@pinkflamingo.com The Milk b***h Trilogy The Milk Bitch Prologue Gina was on Tilghman, a tiny island on Maryland’s Eastern shore. The day was bone-chillingly cold and grey. The dank smell of dirty, fishy swamp water filled her nostrils. The riggings on the ancient fishing boats clanked like dissonant temple bells as she tried to climb them. She strained against the ropes above her but her arms were numb. She couldn’t pull herself up. The clanking – or something, she wasn’t sure what – jarred her into wakefulness. Her leaden eyelids fluttered open. She shivered uncontrollably. She was so cold! Her breasts were covered with goosebumps and her n*****s were constricted into such frozen points they felt like tortured icicles. Her back and shoulders ached … and – Oh my God! – her head pounded. Where was she? She tried to raise her head to look around. The throbbing made even the smallest motion agony, made nausea hit her in waves, forcing her to quickly lower her head again. The horrible swampy smell made it worse. Her hair hung in her face and she couldn’t move her arms to push it aside. She struggled to lift her eyes but her vision swam and went black. Had she passed out? She tried again. This time her sight cleared a little. It was probably only an instant before she understood but it seemed like an eternity. Each thought fluoresced painfully in her mind. Her first impression was of the dim light and something cold, rough and hard against her back. The space seemed large with several – many? – people scattered through it. A large whitish shape floated at some distance in front of her. She shook the hair from her eyes as best she could. Why couldn’t she move? She realized with shock that she was naked … and somehow held immobile. Through the gloom she peered down at her feet past the bulge of her breasts. They were fixed wide apart against the wall by something thick and rigid. She strained her neck, twisting upward to see her hands. They also were held together full length above her head in painful, unyielding bands. The bands cut into her wrists when she tried to move her hands. “Metal?” she wondered, as her mind cleared and her horror and fear grew. She turned her head and would have reeled back from the sight that met her if she was not pinned upright. It was a warehouse, large and bleak. A row of naked women were stretched full length against a long wall, their wrists and ankles locked in place by wide black bands. Single or groups of men stood in front of each girl, talking. She couldn’t clearly see what they were doing but they appeared to be examining the girls. The girl next to her looked so young – certainly no more than a teen – with the lovely curves of a woman but the delicate bones of a girl. Though Gina couldn’t see her clearly in the dim light, from the tremulous motion of her long blond hair she had the impression the girl’s entire body shook. Gina watched a short Oriental man open the girl’s mouth and peer inside, then work his way down her body, prodding and squeezing. The girl did not struggle or make a sound, even when the man bent to examine and finger her genitals. Her mind was still befuddled but clearing … and it was racing faster and faster the more Gina tried to focus. Anxiety hit her in the chest and coursed through her with the jumble of thoughts. How did she get here? One inconceivable thought flashed in her mind. It was Phillipe.