After a couple days, Aaron and I fell into a routine.
Every morning, I'd wake up and dutifully pull up my nightshirt and let Antona milk me. Some mornings, she would enter our tent and lavish herself on my morning boner, sucking me and polishing my aching cock to the point of cumming before capturing my milk in her waiting chalice. Other mornings, I could tell she was busy when she milked me with no more enthusiasm as milking a cow - a mechanical jacking of my twitching tumescent organ - though she always told me I was a "good boy" as I shuddered and came.
With Aaron, it was a different story. He'd wake up, realize he was rock hard with morning wood and therefore prime for milking, and then he'd fight and wrestle with Antona and any soldier she'd bring with her. The end result was always the same. He'd be bound helpless on his back, bringing his knees up to protect his penis from her reach. But she pushed his thighs apart while he screamed and cursed at her, especially as she began to jack him quickly and efficiently. He cursed her and called her terrible names and would cry out as if in pain as she slipped a finger to tickle his anus. But no matter how much he yelled, twisted or struggled, Antona was surprisingly strong and always able to pull a huge load from him. When he finished spurting, he'd pant and mutter more curses, and she would, in turn, threaten to have him whipped and beaten, but she never did. I overheard her tell Tanya, the black woman from the Nile, that the quality and the quantity of our milk could not be tainted by bruising.
After a week, I woke up ready for my morning milking when Antona instead took me by the hand to a larger tent. I walked in and looked around at rows of what looked like small leather harnesses, glistening with oil, mounted on a long horizontal plank. She walked me over to a harness that was at waist height and pointed. I understood - the harness was for my dick. I slowly stepped forward and pushed my hard dick into the soft but snug harness. It felt good, the leather was warm and moist with oil. I was fascinated to look at my protruding dick poke out through the leather sleeve.
Suddenly I felt Antona standing closely behind me. She reached around and held the base of my dick, and with her own body pushing behind me, she guided me in and out of the harness. It felt incredible, and I was soon bucking my own hips to pump myself into this milking device. My fists were raised as I punched the air with excitement. Soon the mushroom head of my dick was swollen large and purple. Antona put a bucket in front of me and in no time, I was spurting into it, filling it almost half full.
"Nico," she said as she traced her finger on my stomach, downward to the base of my manhood, "Every time you hear the hourly gong, you must come here and deposit a load in the milkadstrum." She pointed down the row - there will be other boys here too, but remember this is your milkadstrum - your milk is collected separately.
"My lady," I began, "will I not enjoy your hands and lips every morning?"
"No, you must make milk every hour, but I will come to you in the evenings to massage your legs and feet. You will find this standing milking device straining on your legs after a while." She patted my stomach. "And I will take some meals with you, my skinny young Briton." She kissed my chest. "And I will teach you mounting skills."
"What about my friend, Aaron?"
She shook her head. "He is a defiant one. He has his own milkadstrum. I will show you."
We walked over to another tent. Inside, there was a row of naked young men of different races, dark, light, golden, brown, tan. They were all standing, bound behind their backs. Their mouths were gagged, choking out the sound of their grunts and howls of protest like a line of wild horses unhappily tethered to a post. Their dicks were also lasso'd into milking harnesses but in their cases, the harnesses were tied together and one giant woman, an Amazon, was turning a crank which rocked the harnesses back and forth over their rubbed raw dicks. The bounded men had no pleasure or control as I did. No, they were being tortured as if their dicks were being whittled. The way they were bound, they could not pull out of the harness so they twisted with torment.
Another Amazon woman ladled oil down their row of harnesses, keeping their dicks slick and lubricated, and finally a couple of the men popped with release, a spray of cum into the bucket before them. But this was no relaxing release as the first man to cum still had to endure the rubbing harness until all the men had been cranked to completion.
Out of curiosity, I looked at the row of buckets, surprised at the small amounts some men made - barely a couple spoons of man milk in some cases. When I reached the last bucket, I saw a healthy half full bucket of pearlescent cum, like my own. I looked up and was shocked to see it was Aaron, standing gagged and bound, his eyes ablaze with anger, his large penis stuck in the leather sleeve, still dripping cum from its pouty mouth.
"Aaron," I whispered.
He strained against his bounds and shook his head and closed his eyes.
Antona came up beside me, "NIco, this is what happens to boys who need to be milked by force. But," she pointed at the row of buckets, "you see why Aaron and you are so prized."
Before I could say a word, the Amazon marched down the row, peering into the buckets. She reached one bucket that barely had a couple drops. She looked up at the squirming man. With one swift motion, she pulled out a curved knife and slashed his balls off. He howled in agony against his gag, but with another slash, she had cut his dick off, freeing him from the harness. She threw the severed parts into his bucket and hauled him bleeding between his legs out of the tent.
The other bound men yelled in panic but their gags muffled them. I was wide-eyed, shocked, my knees wobbly. Antona caught me, and let me lean on her shoulder.
"Nico, don't worry. This won't happen to you. Britons produce milk for many many years. And I have ways of keeping you productive."
