Read Milk for the Billionaire (billionaire domination and lactation erotica) for Free Online

Milk for her Billionaire (an erotic domination and
lactation fantasy)
    By Francis Ashe
    Copyright 2012
    Smashwords Edition
    Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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of this author.
     
    ***
     
    “Sandy, could you come in here for a minute?
I need to ask you something. Thanks.”
    Her boss’s voice was leathery, rugged and
warm, but Sandy Jackson’s hand trembled a little as she put her
finger to the ivory-colored intercom button with “Mr. Madisen”
printed underneath.
    “Yes sir, right away,” she said, flattened
her skirt and checked for spotting on the front of her blouse.
Disappointed to find the vaguest hint of a milk mark, she shrugged
into her blazer and checked her hair. For all the intimidation and
power that Mr. Madisen had, he was also absolutely gorgeous, and he
always seemed to look at Sandy with a bit of a naughty glint in his
eye which she had to admit turned her on just a little.
    Sandy, recently divorced mommy of a chubby,
funny three-month old, sat at the desk in front of Michael
Madisen’s glass-doored office, staring into the mirror of her
compact and wondering when she would be able to go back to wearing
a normal bra.
    Maternity leave was both a blessing and a
curse for Sandy, since she got to stay home with little Adie for
three full months, but at the same time, she was worried for most
of that time whether or not she’d be shifted around to a new place
in the company when it was time to go back to work. She liked her
job. The pay was pretty good, but the main thing she loved about it
was how easy it was – most times, no one even came to the front
desk at all, and when they did, it was to ask directions to some
meeting room or office.
    As it happened, she was not only moved, but
given a promotion. She had no clue what she had done to get it, but
the fifty percent pay raise, along with a spot on the mostly
deserted fifth floor were not things she questioned. In fact, the
only other person she saw most times was Mr. Madisen, so she had
lots of free time to do pretty much whatever she wanted. The
problem with that, though, is that she felt like her career was at
a standstill, just kind of idling. Even with the huge pay raise,
she was not actually doing anything. She worried that when
the time came to move on, her skills like “looking through
magazines” and “playing solitaire” would not get her very far.
    “Okay Sandy, what are you so upset over?” She
asked herself. “He’s a nice enough guy. Just go see what he wants.
Probably the current edition of that investment journal he thumbs
through and pretends to read.”
    She stood, stretched her back which had
started aching for the first time in her life when her formerly
petite breasts became engorged with milk for Adie. Rubbing her
lower spine, Sandy twisted back and forth twice, checked to make
sure she had not lactated through her blazer somehow, and willed
herself to Mr. Madisen’s door. Halfway there, she realized that she
had been his personal assistant for going on two weeks, and had yet
to actually see his office. Dismissing the thought, she took a deep
breath and entered.
    Inside, the room was more sparsely decorated
than she had imagined. One painting that resembled a Jackson
Pollock and two statues of tall birds represented the only
decor.
    “Sandy, hey,” Mr. Madisen began, “I wanted to
explain the arrangement a little more. I know you’ve been sort of
thrown into the deep end since you came back, and - oh, would you
like to take off that jacket? Here, let me take it for you. Get
comfortable, we have a