Kishori tossed and turned restlessly on her lavish bed the entire night, her enormous, milk-swollen breasts throbbing with unbearable pressure. The lactating herbs had done their wicked work far too effectively. Her once perky boobs had ballooned into heavy, veiny orbs, the skin stretched tight like overfilled balloons ready to burst. Every small movement sent sharp, stinging pain shooting through her nipples, which had grown darker and more sensitive, constantly leaking thin streams of warm, sweet milk onto her choli. She bit her lip hard, tears welling in her eyes, whispering to herself that she would endure this torture for her king. But the king never came. The long night passed in agony, her body burning with unfulfilled need.