by Reed James
Futa HuCow Mansion Collection
(A Futa-on-Female, BDSM, Spanking, Discipline Erotica)
(Three Tales of The World of Futas)
by
Reed James
Copyright © 2017 by Reed James
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Published in the United States of America, 2017
All characters depicted in this work of fiction are over the age of eighteen (18).
Cover Photo © wildarrow | aarrttuurr | Depositphotos.com
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Table of Contents
Futa HuCow Mansion Collection
Naughty Excerpt from “Futa HuCow Mansion Collection”
Stories of the The World of Futas
HuCow Maid's Interview
HuCow Maid's Interview
HuCow Maid Spanked
HuCow Maid Spanked
HuCow Maid's Surrender
HuCow Maid's Surrender
Naughty Excerpt from “Futa HuCow Mansion Collection”
“Well, now for the fun part,” Ms. Christine said. “Strip.”
A shiver ran through me. I knew this was coming. I knew I would be doing things at this job. Naughty things. I thought I was ready for it. That I had prepared over the last two weeks since I sent in my application and did my phone interview. But now I had to do it. I had to strip naked and earn my $100,000 a year.
Or I could go back home. The cab was waiting. Two hours to regret missing out on this opportunity. Two hours to wonder how I could help my mother get out of the terrible nursing home she was in and into a place that could help her instead of just tolerate her.
I closed my eyes. It was only sex. I might even enjoy it. Women have been prostituting themselves as long as there's been horny futas. They say it's the oldest profession.
My fingers found the buttons of my blouse. I worked them down, fast. Now that I made the decision, I just wanted to get it out of the way. My fingers trembled as they popped each one through its eyelet. Ms. Christine and Ms. Nina both watched, their eyes burning. The futa-butler rubbed her hand together, her nipples hard against her white blouse.
Ms. Nina's were even harder. They were fat, pressing at the thin, black material of her maid uniform. The dusky edges of her areolas peeked out the top while she pressed her thighs so tight, her pussy as wet as mine.
This was exciting. Having to strip, being paid to get naked for a futa's pleasure. It was so naughty, so exhilarating. Society said this was wrong. It might even be illegal. But...That just made it more exciting. It made me want to strip naked even more.
My blouse slipped off, my large tits constrained by my bra.
“Mmm, H cups,” Ms. Christine purred. “Charlize will be delighted.”
“Yes, she will,” Ms. Nina nodded.
I hesitated, almost taking off my blouse, but then I went for my skirt. They both wanted to see me naked. I controlled that. It gave me some measure of power. Not much, but enough to have them both squirming, a noticeable bulge tenting the front of Ms. Christine's skirt.
My skirt slid down my long thighs. I was a tall, busty girl. My Germanic blood on full display as I revealed my purple panties, the crotch so wet. I bet they could see the growing stain. Then, knowing it was my tits they really wanted to see, I pulled down my panties.
My blonde curls came into sight. Ms. Nina let out an orgasmic sigh. Her hand reached out as I straightened, stroking my golden pubic hairs. Her fingers twined through my bush, making me shudder as she came closer and closer to touching my naughty parts.
“Normally,” she purred, “I would have you shave this, but it is such an exciting feature.”
“Yes, really sells that German milkmaid look she has,” Ms. Christine said. “She'll need to put her hair in pigtails.”
“Oh, yes,” Ms. Nina agreed, her fingers brushing the top of my pussy now, my clit throbbing at her caress. “Braided pigtails. That is how you'll style your hair from now on, Heidi.”
“Yes, Ms. Nina,” I groaned, my body trembling. Tingles raced up to my swollen breasts and throbbing nipples. They grew wet, my milk flowing.
“Now the bra,” Ms. Christine purred, moving around her desk to stand before me. “Let's see those glorious teats.”
Teats. I was a HuCow maid now. A hot shiver ran through me, and not just because Ms. Nina's fingers were sliding lower, stroking my wet pussy lips through my golden curls. This was so exciting. So naughty.
And I was getting paid. No wonder Siona and Rebecca looked so happy.
I reached behind me, grabbing the clasp of my lavender bra. I unhooked the. Immediately, my tits sagged, pulling the bra straps off my shoulders. I let them slip demurely down my arms, the cups falling away to reveal my heavy breasts, two pillowy, pendulous mounds. My delicious teats. My nipples were pink and so fat, thrusting from my wide areolas. Milk beaded white on both nubs.
“Delightful,” Ms. Christine said, hefting my left tit, her delicate fingers sinking into my flesh. “Mmm, just a wondrous sight.”
“Oh, yes,” groaned Ms. Nina, her free hand grasping my other tit, her fingers still rubbing at my pussy, stroking me, making me tingle. “Already beading with milk. Mmm, just delicious.”
Then they both leaned forward and engulfed my nipples. I gasped, nursing my first two humans, a futa and a woman. They suckled. My milk squirted. It was so different from the breast pump. There was no constant, sucking pressure. No whirring of an engine. No rubber sealing over my tit. These were warm, wet mouths sucking hard and moaning with pleasure.
To find out what happens next, read on!
Stories of the The World of Futas
Futa Coed's Domination 1: Futa's Naughty Domination
Futa Coed's Domination 2: Futa's Submissive Service
Futa's Coed Domination 3: Futa's Naughty Mistress
Futas and the Hot MILF 1: Hot MILF Next Door
Futas and the Hot MILF 2: Hot MILF's Naughty Game
Futas and the Hot MILF 3: Hot MILF's Futa Wife
Cuckolded by the Futa Biker 1: Futa's Hot Wife Claimed
Cuckolded by the Futa Biker 2: Futa Cuckold's Hot Night
Cuckolded by the Futa Biker 3: Flooded by the Futa's Seed
HuCow Maid's Interview
Futa HuCow Mansion 1
(A Tale of The World of Futas)
by
Reed James
HuCow Maid's Interview
I knew what this job would entail: sex. I knew it. It was so obvious from the ad I found on Craigslist. But it was also an opportunity. I had these big, lactating breasts, and I could make money with them. A lot of money.
$100,000.
I was barely more than eighteen. There was no way I could make close to that money. I was barely making $14,000 working part time as a waitress, struggling to pay my bills and to make sure my poor mother, suffering from early onset Alzheimer, could get the care she needed. This was the way. A $100,000 a year starting wage.
I could...pros
titute myself for that much. Right? For my mother. I liked sex. And, well, if I was going to be one of those girls struck by galactorrhea (spontaneous lactation, and isn't nearly as gross as the word makes it sound), then I might as well take advantage of it. My big H cups were always aching. I had to pump them four times a day. It was the worst spending my meager breaks in the bathroom with the machine whirling away, milking my tits.
They say it was all the hormones in beef that causes girls to start lactating without being pregnant. My futa-cock old it was happening more and more often. Only in 1% of girls, but that was still a lot. And it was fueling all sorts of naughty behavior. There were all sorts of futas, and lesbian women, who just loved breast milk. A whole industry of porn was exploding.
At least this job, hopefully, wouldn't require me being on the internet. It was technically a maid's job for a billionaire named Charlize Davenport, an eccentric futa who was looking for, and I quote from the ad, “busty, lactating girls who are looking for a fun and friendly job as a maid.”
Yeah, I could read through the lines. I maybe a busty blonde, but I wasn't an airhead. Ms. Davenport was looking young women to nurse from. And maybe doing more. She was looking for HuCows, as the internet was calling women being milked like dairy cows.
A HuCow maid working for a futa-billionaire. I could do that. I hoped.
I was nervous as the taxi driver took me out to the mansion. It was remote, down in Thurston County away from the bustle of the more populous King and Pierce counties. It was the more rural Central Washington. The type of place where privacy was valued. It made me squirm in the back of the cab, biting my lip. I had my luggage in the trunk. If the job interview went well, I'd be hired immediately and live here.
And if not, I had a two hour cab ride home to Seattle to dwell on it. Thank goddess Ms. Davenport was paying for the cab. I could never afford a simple cab ride, let alone one so long.
When the cab made the turn off the road and stopped at a large, wrought iron gate set in an ivory covered brick wall, I trembled. Through the gate, I could see the manicured grounds of Ms. Davenport's lands. A large, green lawn leading to the distant mansion, dotted with small groves of trees, flowering bushes, fountains, pools, gazebos, and topiary.
My heart raced. I squirmed, brushing the skirt of my business skirt. I was wearing my best clothes, my blouse freshly ironed, buttoned most of the way up, but leaving a nice glint of my cleavage, my blonde hair combed and pulled back into a ponytail, something perfect for cleaning in.
“Yellow cab with Ms. Ronnel,” the cabbie said, an Arab futa with a thick accent.
The gate opened smoothly. My shivers increased as the cab pulled forward, heading down the long, sweeping driveway to the manor. It sprawled at the far end of a lawn easily the length of two football fields. It was three or four stories tall, the front dominated by soaring, Greek pillars holding the roof over the porch, the mansion's wings spread wide on either side. It looked like something built a 150 years ago in Europe. So elegant and beautiful, with delicate windows piercing the white marble facade.
To the right, I spotted a bright, red barn. Something so cheery and homely and utterly at odds with the elegance of the rest of the grounds. It looked more like the ideal of a barn than a working one you'd see on a farm. No mud spattered walls, no sign of any livestock, no peeling paint weathered dull. It was more a work of art, crafted to perfection with its sloping roof and wood siding, its doors open wide.
“Strange place,” the cabbie muttered. “Very strange.”
“Yes,” I nodded.
As we approached the mansion, three figures appeared on the porch. Two were dressed like French maids in those black dresses with their lacy, white petticoats peeking out and thigh-high, white stockings cladding their legs. The skirts looked incrediblely short, like they would barely keep them decent. The blouses were low-cut, plunging to cradle large breasts that clearly lacked any bras for support. The décolletage was lined with lace that ran up to the shoulders, their sleeves short and puffy. White caps set in their hair. One was a redhead, the younger of the pair, the other was mature, with dusky skin, her presence more reserved than the redhead, who squirmed and smiled, even waving.
The third figure was an elegant futa dressed in a butler's jacket and matching skirt, a white blouse peeking out, a bow tie at her neck. Her short, brown hair framed a narrow, if gorgeous, face, lips pursed in a hungry smile, her hazel eyes staring at me as the cab stopped in front.
The redhead hurried down, opening the cab. “Welcome, Heidi,” she beamed at me, her green eyes twinkling. “Oh, I can already tell you're going to fit in here.”
“Thanks,” I said, feeling so...ill-prepared for this. It was all so...old-fashioned and sensual at the same time, like a parody of more elegant times. But a sexy parody. I pictured myself in that uniform, my body practically on display, my tits almost falling out of my bodice when I leaned over, swaying like the redhead's did.
“I'm Siona,” she said as I stepped out of the cab. “Ooh, you're going to love working here!”
My blush deepened as I climbed out, feeling the futa-butler's eyes upon me, flicking up and down my body, her smile growing. She was...stripping me naked with her eyes, feasting upon my imagined flesh.
“This isn't the time for chatter, girl,” the dusky maid said. “Get her luggage and take it to her room.”
“Right, Ms. Nina,” Siona said and darted around to the trunk, her big tits heaving.
“Room?” I asked. “I thought I had to be interviewed.”
“You do,” the futa-butler said, her voice a sultry purr. “And the cab will be waiting. But...if the interview goes successfully, well, you'll be ready to change and get to work.”
“Okay,” I said, still feeling so nervous. The way the futa-butler stared at me... My nipples hardened. I couldn't help the way my body responded. I felt so helpless, and that was so...exciting. Exhilarating. My blood was pumping through my veins as I walked up the stairs to join the pair. “I'm ready.”
The futa-butler's eyes flicked down to my blouse. “Yes, I can see that. Very prominent.”
“Indeed,” Ms. Nina said, the older maid licking her lips. Like Siona, she was busty. “And you haven't pumped your breasts, Heidi?”
“No...Ms. Nina,” I said. It made me feel so...childish, like I was a little girl, calling this older, stern, and motherly woman Ms. Nina. Like she was my elementary school teacher. “I haven't. In fact, I'm feeling...” I glanced at the futa-butler.
“Full?” she asked, licking her lips. “Wonderful. Wonderful. I am Christine Ramsey, the chief butler. I run the household. Ms. Nina is in charge of the maids.”
“It's nice to meet you, Ms. Christine, Ms. Nina,” I said, fighting an urge to curtsy. I had never curtsied in my life, and yet here, before this elegant mansion, and because of the way they were dressed, I just wanted to.
“Okay,” Siona said, running back up carrying both my suitcases. “I'll take these to your room. It's next to mine. We share a bathroom!” Then the redhead darted inside, her short skirt swirling about her ass, the bottom slopes of her butt-cheeks peeking out.
Those skirts were so short.
“As you can see, our uniforms are very...provocative,” Ms. Christine said as she motioned me into the house. “I hope you will be comfortable showing so much of your...skin.”
I flushed, realizing just how conservative my outfit was. “For $100,000 a year, I will be,” I answered, my cheeks burning. “This is just what I wear to any job interview.”
“Ah, of course,” Ms. Christine nodded.
We walked through the house, the floors marble. Our heels clicked. Ms. Nina wore higher heels than I was used to, almost stilettos. They made her hips sway. Her skirt was as short as Siona's, swirling about her thighs, threatening to flash her naughty bits at any moment. The house itself was richly appointed, full of paintings, tapestries, statues, and other works of art. Even the furniture was beautiful, so old-fashion, the wooden frames, carv
ed and shaped, were darkly polished. Other maids moved through the house, cleaning, flashing smiles at us, their tits swaying.
I gasped when I saw one on her hands and knees, polishing the base of a cupboard. Her skirt had ridden up, exposing her ass and naked pussy. She was shaved, her labia on display as she worked, unconcerned that she flashed the world.
“Oh, my,” I gasped, struggling to keep my reactions under control. This was why I was being paid $100,000 a year. Ms. Davenport was clearly a perverted futa, eager to have busty, lactating maids around in skimpy clothing.
“Yes, Rebecca does have a beautiful pussy,” Ms. Christine said. The way she spoke sounded so intimate. Like she knew first hand just how beautiful it was. Had her futa-cock been inside Rebecca?
My eyes widened. Would I have to fuck Ms. Christine as part of my job interview? I thought it would only be the billionaire I'd have to have sex with. And, I hoped, with so many maids, that wouldn't be too often.
“Hi, Ms. Christine, Ms. Nina,” the maid said, her curly, brown hair spilling about her round face. “And you're Heidi, the new girl.”
“Yeah,” I said, my cheeks burning so hot. I gave her a weak wave with my hand as we passed, trying not to stare at her pussy.
But it was just so on display. It made my own growing wetter and wetter, soaking into my panties. My nipples throbbed, reminding me just how full my tits were as my arousal grew. There was a pressure in them just aching to burst out.
Would I have to nurse Ms. Christine, too?
We moved out of the elegant part of the mansion into what Ms. Christine called the servant's wing. Here lay the offices where secretaries, money managers, accountants, and a host of others who worked for Ms. Davenport, managing her wealth, along with quarters for the staff who lived on site, like me.
And Ms. Christine's office.
It was a rather plain office, a window looking out onto the back lawn of the mansion, which seemed even larger, complete with a riding barn and several gorgeous horses grazing in a pen. She had a desk, several shelves, a very modern-looking computer, a comfy chair, and that was it. No other chairs for visitors to use.
