This story was written by Chaos Grey.  Don't steal it.  Any
resemblance to real people or actual events is coincidental.
I am not resonspible for anything that may result from someone
attempting to do anything written in this story.  Though, please
send any accounts, photos, sketches, or videos that you may get
while attempting to recreate events in the story.

To contact the author and tell him now much you liked the story
or send him photos, videos, accounts, etc.of actions similar or
pertaining to those found in this story,
email: thechaosgrey@yahoo.com

This story contains:
Bondage, Suspension, Forced Lactation, Pumping, Brutal Tit Torture, Insects

_______________________
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.