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Nursery Crime (Kelly Addams)


Nursery Crime by Kelly Addams

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Single mother Emma feels like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders, she can never make ends meet, so when her friend Helen tells her about a free day-care nursery she believes that she will finally get the time to return to work... and earn a little cash. But Emma doesn't know that the kinky nursery owner has plans for Emma and her big milky boobs. Mind Control and Lactation Erotica!

Product type: EBook    Published by: PMO Publishing    Published: 03 / 2018

We do not recommend this book for readers under 18 years of age

No. words: 4827

Style: Erotica -    OM - Gay or Lesbian, OM Erotica

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle

Current all-time sales ranking: #5089


Excerpt..

Ms Jenkins looked every inch a matron. Even though retired she had retained both the air and the uniform, but Emma found that a comfort rather than intimidating. The woman exuded professionalism, she was someone to be trusted, and absolute trust was vital when handing the centre of your existence over.
“Can you provide bottles for this little angel?” She had said as Jordan explored the play area in the corner of Ms Jenkins' office. “I presume he's still taking milk?”
“I give him cereals, and puréed veggies at home, but he still likes a bottle.” Emma replied with a smile.
“That is why I asked about bottles,” Ms Jenkins answered, her tone a little short. “I have plenty of solid food, but I do not have breast milk... I presume that you breast feed rather than give him formula?”
Formula had never been a consideration, Emma had veritable udders and often wondered if she was close to producing the same amount as a milk cow.
“I've always breast fed him,” she replied, “So supplying a few bottles won’t be a problem.”
The older woman smiled, but Emma didn't feel the warmth, her look was almost predatory, the focus locked on her full breasts. “No, I can see that a few bottles shouldn't pose a problem for you,” she said lightly as the warmth returned to her expression making Emma wonder if she'd been imagining the reaction, “I think you probably produce more than a few bottles full.”
All my life people have stared at my boobs she reminded herself, so why should the matron be any different, after all her breasts were rather prominent, and filled to bursting with creamy milk they looked even more imposing.
“Yes, quite a few.” she replied quietly, wondering if it was a coincidence that both Helen and the matron had made the same comment.
“Lucky you,” Ms Jenkins smiled, “I know so many ladies who suffer, tiny breasts, sometimes things don't quite work out, Mother Nature decides that they just can't lactate. Those are the ladies who have to resort to bottles of formula.”
“I've never had that problem,” Emma replied as she began to feel a little uncomfortable, the intensity of the older woman's gaze was becoming decidedly disconcerting. “So I guess I am lucky.”
Ms Jenkins smiled, the smallest curling of her lip, what many would call a knowing smile, a silence developed, a moment later the older woman lowered her voice fractionally.
“For lucky girls there is always the potential to earn a little extra on the side,” she said, her eyes locked on Emma's. “More than a little actually!”
“I don't understand.” Emma stated, wishing in a way that the piercing gaze would return to her swollen breasts, the steel grey eyes seemed to looking right inside her mind.
“There are people out there who are prepared to pay handsomely for fresh breast milk. It is a situation that benefits well endowed young ladies like yourself.”
“Sell my milk?” Emma gasped. “Well, what do they use it for? Is it women who can't lactate?”
Ms Jenkins grinned, then slowly shook her head. “No my dear, it isn't nursing mothers that buy it... it's men!”
“Men?” Emma whispered, then resisted the compulsion to ask the question why?
I know exactly why she told herself as a wave of disgust washed over her. They buy it... to drink it!
“Look at it as a commodity,” the matron chuckled, “You have a pair of goldmines bouncing inside that bra.”
“No,” Emma replied instantly, “No, sorry, I don't think I could sell my milk, I don't think it would be... natural.”
“There is nothing more natural than a mother's milk,” Ms Jenkins replied, “But I wasn't suggesting that it was right for you my dear, I was merely pointing out an option.” her smile widened as she nodded toward young Jordan who was still happily playing in his padded corner. “I think someone is enjoying himself.” Emma turned and felt a rush of relief to be able to change the subject.
“He doesn't get to play too much, things are always too tight for me to afford lots of toys for him.”
“Well, he can play to his heart’s desire here,” the older woman said before adding, “Coffee, I shall make us coffee, then we can fill out the application forms. And while you're drinking it I can make another suggestion that maybe you'll feel more able to accept.”


Excerpt..

Ms Jenkins looked every inch a matron. Even though retired she had retained both the air and the uniform, but Emma found that a comfort
rather than intimidating. The woman exuded professionalism, she was someone to be trusted, and absolute trust was vital when handing the
centre of your existence over.

“Can you provide bottles for this little angel?” She had said as Jordan explored the play area in the corner of Ms Jenkins' office. “I
presume he's still taking milk?”

“I give him cereals, and puréed veggies at home, but he still likes a bottle.” Emma replied with a smile.

“That is why I asked about bottles,” Ms Jenkins answered, her tone a little short. “I have plenty of solid food, but I do not have breast
milk... I presume that you breast feed rather than give him formula?”

Formula had never been a consideration, Emma had veritable udders and often wondered if she was close to producing the same amount as a milk
cow.

“I've always breast fed him,” she replied, “So supplying a few bottles won’t be a problem.”

The older woman smiled, but Emma didn't feel the warmth, her look was almost predatory, the focus locked on her full breasts. “No, I can see
that a few bottles shouldn't pose a problem for you,” she said lightly as the warmth returned to her expression making Emma wonder if she'd
been imagining the reaction, “I think you probably produce more than a few bottles full.”

All my life people have stared at my boobs she reminded herself, so why should the matron be any different, after all her breasts were
rather prominent, and filled to bursting with creamy milk they looked even more imposing.

“Yes, quite a few.” she replied quietly, wondering if it was a coincidence that both Helen and the matron had made the same comment.

“Lucky you,” Ms Jenkins smiled, “I know so many ladies who suffer, tiny breasts, sometimes things don't quite work out, Mother Nature
decides that they just can't lactate. Those are the ladies who have to resort to bottles of formula.”

“I've never had that problem,” Emma replied as she began to feel a little uncomfortable, the intensity of the older woman's gaze was
becoming decidedly disconcerting. “So I guess I am lucky.”

Ms Jenkins smiled, the smallest curling of her lip, what many would call a knowing smile, a silence developed, a moment later the older
woman lowered her voice fractionally.

“For lucky girls there is always the potential to earn a little extra on the side,” she said, her eyes locked on Emma's. “More than a little
actually!”

“I don't understand.” Emma stated, wishing in a way that the piercing gaze would return to her swollen breasts, the steel grey eyes seemed
to looking right inside her mind.

“There are people out there who are prepared to pay handsomely for fresh breast milk. It is a situation that benefits well endowed young
ladies like yourself.”

“Sell my milk?” Emma gasped. “Well, what do they use it for? Is it women who can't lactate?”

Ms Jenkins grinned, then slowly shook her head. “No my dear, it isn't nursing mothers that buy it... it's men!”

“Men?” Emma whispered, then resisted the compulsion to ask the question why?

I know exactly why she told herself as a wave of disgust washed over her. They buy it... to drink it!

“Look at it as a commodity,” the matron chuckled, “You have a pair of goldmines bouncing inside that bra.”

“No,” Emma replied instantly, “No, sorry, I don't think I could sell my milk, I don't think it would be... natural.”

“There is nothing more natural than a mother's milk,” Ms Jenkins replied, “But I wasn't suggesting that it was right for you my dear, I was
merely pointing out an option.” her smile widened as she nodded toward young Jordan who was still happily playing in his padded corner. “I
think someone is enjoying himself.” Emma turned and felt a rush of relief to be able to change the subject.

“He doesn't get to play too much, things are always too tight for me to afford lots of toys for him.”

“Well, he can play to his heart’s desire here,” the older woman said before adding, “Coffee, I shall make us coffee, then we can fill out
the application forms. And while you're drinking it I can make another suggestion that maybe you'll feel more able to accept.”


Excerpt..

Ms Jenkins looked every inch a matron. Even though retired she had retained both the air and the uniform, but Emma found that a comfort

rather than intimidating. The woman exuded professionalism, she was someone to be trusted, and absolute trust was vital when handing the

centre of your existence over.


“Can you provide bottles for this little angel?” She had said as Jordan explored the play area in the corner of Ms Jenkins' office. “I

presume he's still taking milk?”


“I give him cereals, and puréed veggies at home, but he still likes a bottle.” Emma replied with a smile.


“That is why I asked about bottles,” Ms Jenkins answered, her tone a little short. “I have plenty of solid food, but I do not have breast

milk... I presume that you breast feed rather than give him formula?”


Formula had never been a consideration, Emma had veritable udders and often wondered if she was close to producing the same amount as a milk

cow.


“I've always breast fed him,” she replied, “So supplying a few bottles won’t be a problem.”


The older woman smiled, but Emma didn't feel the warmth, her look was almost predatory, the focus locked on her full breasts. “No, I can see

that a few bottles shouldn't pose a problem for you,” she said lightly as the warmth returned to her expression making Emma wonder if she'd

been imagining the reaction, “I think you probably produce more than a few bottles full.”


All my life people have stared at my boobs she reminded herself, so why should the matron be any different, after all her breasts were

rather prominent, and filled to bursting with creamy milk they looked even more imposing.


“Yes, quite a few.” she replied quietly, wondering if it was a coincidence that both Helen and the matron had made the same comment.


“Lucky you,” Ms Jenkins smiled, “I know so many ladies who suffer, tiny breasts, sometimes things don't quite work out, Mother Nature

decides that they just can't lactate. Those are the ladies who have to resort to bottles of formula.”


“I've never had that problem,” Emma replied as she began to feel a little uncomfortable, the intensity of the older woman's gaze was

becoming decidedly disconcerting. “So I guess I am lucky.”


Ms Jenkins smiled, the smallest curling of her lip, what many would call a knowing smile, a silence developed, a moment later the older

woman lowered her voice fractionally.


“For lucky girls there is always the potential to earn a little extra on the side,” she said, her eyes locked on Emma's. “More than a little

actually!”


“I don't understand.” Emma stated, wishing in a way that the piercing gaze would return to her swollen breasts, the steel grey eyes seemed

to looking right inside her mind.


“There are people out there who are prepared to pay handsomely for fresh breast milk. It is a situation that benefits well endowed young

ladies like yourself.”


“Sell my milk?” Emma gasped. “Well, what do they use it for? Is it women who can't lactate?”


Ms Jenkins grinned, then slowly shook her head. “No my dear, it isn't nursing mothers that buy it... it's men!”


“Men?” Emma whispered, then resisted the compulsion to ask the question why?


I know exactly why she told herself as a wave of disgust washed over her. They buy it... to drink it!


“Look at it as a commodity,” the matron chuckled, “You have a pair of goldmines bouncing inside that bra.”


“No,” Emma replied instantly, “No, sorry, I don't think I could sell my milk, I don't think it would be... natural.”


“There is nothing more natural than a mother's milk,” Ms Jenkins replied, “But I wasn't suggesting that it was right for you my dear, I was

merely pointing out an option.” her smile widened as she nodded toward young Jordan who was still happily playing in his padded corner. “I

think someone is enjoying himself.” Emma turned and felt a rush of relief to be able to change the subject.


“He doesn't get to play too much, things are always too tight for me to afford lots of toys for him.”


“Well, he can play to his heart’s desire here,” the older woman said before adding, “Coffee, I shall make us coffee, then we can fill out

the application forms. And while you're drinking it I can make another suggestion that maybe you'll feel more able to accept.”


Keywords - click on word to search for more titles

mind control  lactation  submissive  hucow  

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Author Information

30 something married nymph with a very dirty mind!
WARNING: You will find nothing vanilla in any of the books that I write, I don't even like vanilla ice-cream!
Taboo, taboo and more taboo, so be warned before sampling the products of my filthy mind.

 


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 Publishers and Independent Authors   

Affiliate Program

Contact Us

Terms and Conditions

Privacy Policy

Refund Policy

This Site Owned By Fiction4Adults - Copyright Ó 2015