Now His Milk Cow (A Lactation Fantasy)

by Bennet, Ashley K.

  Now His Milk Cow

  Ashley K. Bennet

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Your non-refundable purchase allows you to one legal copy of this work for your own personal use. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload, or for a fee.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Disclaimer: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic, adult language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable which might include: male/male sexual practices, multiple partner sexual practices, strong BDSM themes and elements, erotic elements and fetish play. This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/Fetish titles without the guidance of an experience practitioner. Neither the publisher nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles. Please note that this is a work of complete fiction; it is intended as fantasy only. No act or description is officially endorsed by the writer, publisher, editor, or distributor.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.

  First Edition

  ©2012

  Clara didn’t know what to expect as the suburbs and city gave way to trees, sloping hills, and a lack of civilization. She clutched the steering wheel and tried not to think. Thinking led to a pounding heartbeat and hyperventilation. She couldn’t help it, not when Eric already had so much on her.

  She might go to jail. The thought twisted her stomach and made her shiver with dread. When she spent time with her friends, she might like to joke about how she could be hardcore, bur really, she had been a cheerleader in high school, got good grades, and really had no idea what she was doing.

  Nibbling on her lower lip, she refocused on the road. It had started out as a freeway but trickled down into this two-lane stretch of pavement cutting its way through God-knew-where. Out this far, she couldn’t even listen to the radio. Her only company was the polite, slightly British sounds of her GPS telling her when and where to turn.

  If the universe had been kind, Clara would have driven on forever, never reaching her destination. Gripping the wheel, she glanced down at her knuckles and saw that they had turned white.

  “Damn it,” she hissed at herself. “Relax. C’mon. Just do what he says. Two days.”

  Two days. Under normal circumstances, one weekend didn’t mean a whole lot. After all, Clara had gone through her whole life and forgotten most of her weekends. Only this one would be different.

  Clara forced her hands to relax. Acting on habit, she reached down for the radio, only to remember that she was out of range. Even the radio evangelists had abandoned her. Apparently they weren’t interested in preaching to literal sheep.

  After graduating from high school, Clara had started work at a small shipping company. She went from the mailroom clerk all the way up to logistics analyst. For the most part, she did really well until she made a mistake. Then she lied about it. Then she faked several important documents. For most people, lying at work just meant the chance of getting fired. Because their company worked with the military, it could mean prison time.

  No one noticed her mistake or her forgeries, no one except Eric.

  Swallowing back her fears, Clara stared ahead but found herself imagining his features anyway. She couldn’t help it. Whenever Clara or one of the other women spotted him in the office, they felt themselves sort of melt. He had a warm smile, sexy shoulders, and gorgeous brown hair. Although he wore suits and dress shirts, he looked like the kind of guy who worked out. And despite the attention he got from his female colleagues, he never came off as arrogant or conceded.

  If Clara told herself the total truth, she had to admit that she used to have something of a crush on him.

  Of course, that ended the second he found out about her maleficence. On some random day, he sauntered into her office with a folder. He tossed it onto her desk and ordered her to read the contents. One glance at the documents and Clara knew what she held and what he had figured out.

  Pursing her lips, she peeked up at him and asked, “What are you going to do with this?”

  “Ethically, I have two options. You can come to my farm this weekend and work off the debt and the damage you’ve done to this company. After discovering your error, I’ve been able to correct the problem, but it has cost me quite a bit of time and effort. I think you owe me, but if you disagree, I can go to the police. The decision is yours.” Oddly enough, he didn’t make it sound like a threat. Instead, he simply presented her with two choices. “I’ll expect your answer by the end of the day.” With that, he turned around and left Clara alone with her thoughts.

  Work off the debt? At a farm? Clara didn’t know what he meant or what he expected. Ultimately, she went online and researched the penalties. She could go to prison for several years. Fear and shame clouded through her chest, making hard to think and even more difficult to breathe.

  But finally, she made her choice. Clara went to his office, knocked on his door, and heard Eric’s gruff voice order her inside. He glanced up from his desk, and with one look, he seemed to possess her. There was something in his gaze that made her feel small and powerless, as though he could do anything he wished.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Shut the door.”

  Clara turned around and did as he said. Her face flushed because they were supposed to be equals. They both had the same boss, yet he spoke to her as though she were an underling. Clara couldn’t help but find his tone unsettling and demeaning. But it did something else as well. It triggered a sensation deep down at her core that she didn’t know how to name.

  Eric stood up and approached her slowly even as he exuded nothing but confidence and control. “You messed up. Badly. Now for the sake of the company, I fixed it, but you owe me.” He came even closer and reached up, touching the tip of her chin. This was sexual harassment of every kind, but she couldn’t report him, not with the evidence he had already gathered against her.

  Her mouth parted a quarter inch, and she got how she was supposed to speak, but she felt like prey before a predator. He held her gaze and blanked out her thoughts.

  “I’ll email you directions to my country estate. If you come out, you will be giving me consent to use you as I will.” He leaned in and whispered, “I will take you, and I will make you mine. Your personal preferences and desires will be irrelevant because you will serve me. Do you understand?”

  Clara nodded quickly, then tried to speak. Her voice came out as a scratched little squeak until she tried again, “Yes
. Yes, I understand.”

  “Good,” he said, letting his hand drift lower to her breasts. His knuckles grazed her neck, her collarbone, then and her breast. Her nipples both hardened. He glanced down, clearly noticed, and offered up a sardonic smirk. Clara practically shivered with humiliation. She kept waiting for some sense of anger or moral outrage to come. Instead, she couldn’t help but feel aroused.

  True to his word, when Clara got back to her computer, she found an email waiting for her. It contained his address and a short message. Prison or submission. The choice is yours.

  An entire weekend doing whatever her colleague wanted. The thought terrified her in more ways than she expected. Of course, it didn't help that she didn't know exactly what he wanted from her. Clara wished she could have negotiated or asked some serious questions. Somehow, she understood this was not a discussion between equals.

  Before discovering this evidence, Eric might have treated her as a coworker who deserved a modicum of respect. They might have said hello in the hallways or chatted politely about weekend plans in the break room. But now something had changed. He no longer had to wear that particular façade.

  Shoving down her trepidation, Clara typed a quick response and promised she would be there by seven o'clock.

  After work, Clara drove home and got together some clothes. When she got back into her car, programmed her GPS, and started the long drive.

  "You have arrived at your destination," the GPS unit informed her politely. Through the twilight haze, Clara stared through her windshield. As much a she didn't like to admit it, Clara couldn't help but be impressed. Spread before her, there was a large farmhouse, though really it seemed more like a mansion. While the surrounding environs were more like wild rivers and woods, the grounds were well kept. To one side, there was a field of bright green grass. To the other, there were crops like corn and wheat.

  "What have I gotten myself into?" Clara asked no one in particular.

  Opening her car door, Clara wondered how she was supposed to approach this situation. She didn't have his number and couldn't call. Part of her wanted to simply flee even as she realized that wasn't the possibility. Where would she go? What would she do?

  Before she could lose her nerve, the main doors opened and Eric strode outside. In his dark pants, dress shirt, and tie, he looked like a lord of corporate finance, someone used to wielding total authority. When his gaze fell on her, Clara couldn't help but feel nervous. This was a new side to him, one she couldn't entirely explain.

  Rather than approach her car, he motioned for Clara to come to him. Reminding herself how little leverage she had, she took several steps.

  "You're late," he told her. His eyes darkened, "I don't tolerate tardiness from my chattel. If you fail to follow my orders or if you decide that you can't handle this, you are free to leave at any time. However my previous statement stands and I will go to the police. Tell me understand.”

  Clara licked her lower lip. Her throat and mouth suddenly felt very dry, and she managed to nod and say, "I understand."

  "Follow me," he commanded. Without pause, Eric headed back inside. Clara scampered after him.

  For the next few minutes he showed her around his house. Clara couldn't quite believe it. How could you have a place like this? Assuming it had to have been an inheritance or something along those lines, she tried not to resent him for the obvious wealth and power he had at his disposal. Each room had been adorned with fine art. Sometimes those pieces were small statues of marble or obsidian. At other times, there were paintings of far-off places. Clara couldn't help but feel as though she were in some high-end museum or extraordinarily posh business.

  The rooms flashed by in a dizzying haze. It was hard to concentrate, especially because she still didn't quite know what he wanted her for. As he explained some of the history of the house and a few select items, Clara didn't dare interrupt. So instead she followed him around like some obedient schoolgirl.

  "This is where you'll be spending most of your time," he finally informed her. Eric and Clara stood outside a single door. Unadorned, it looks like it might lead to a linen closet or something else equally innocuous.

  He paused, giving her the chance to finally ask. In spite of her nervousness, Clara Forrester voice to work, "Eric, what am I doing here? What do you want from me exactly?"

  For a moment, expression did not change. He watched her, appraising Clara. She couldn't help but feel like an animal on display, one which was about to be put up for auction. Pushing back that absurd notion, she did her absolute best to hold her ground. Even then, she blinked and glanced down, unable to match the ferocity and power of the man standing before her.

  "Clara, you did something very wrong. Now I get to do something very wrong as well." When he came closer, so post this could feel his breath on her cheek, she felt that same tightness deep down her core. This wasn't the same man she worked with. He was different. He was allowing her to see an entirely different side of himself, perhaps a truer side. "I'm going to make you into my possession. I'm going to make you please me. I'm going to reshape you into whatever I want."

  Right then, she should have fled. Even if she had to retreat into the arms of the law, Clara should have done it. Virtually every fiber of her being understood this.

  Yet she didn't do it. Clara couldn't do it.

  Clara bowed her head as Eric opened the door, touched his other hand to her but, and nudged her inside. She didn't know what to expect. It certainly wasn't what she found on the other side.

  A medium-sized room, it could've been a small bedroom or maybe a sitting room. It could've been a nice office, though in its current state no one could mistake it for anything but what it was. A dungeon.

  Clara blinked, not sure what to do or say. The improbability of her surroundings gripped her. As she tried to process it all, her brain refused to work. One wall was covered in shelves. Each shelf held different sex toys. There were crops and whips and paddles, muzzles and dildos. A hundred different items waited under the soft lighting, each one ready to inflict a mix of pleasure and pain. That wall almost looked like a candy shop.

  But there was more.

  Clara swept her gaze across the room. Little by little, she took in the big details like the cage set off in one corner. Made with thick, black metal bars, it would have no trouble containing her. And Clara had no doubt who Eric intended to keep caged there.

  Another wall had been covered in shelves. There were bins, each one presumably filled with clothes and costumes. A leather chair, an ottoman, and a grid of metal bars and suspension straps also occupied this space. It was a dungeon, one designed to help facilitate the training and submission of some young woman.

  Her.

  Clara turned around, speechless yet desperate to speak. Eric seemed to read her body language with ease. He seemed to drink in her hesitation and nervousness. But her feelings didn't stop him when he took her by the hand and led her over to the Ottoman.

  Eric sat her down, instructed her to lift her sleeve, and went back to one of the drawers. Clara kept her eyes on the floor because she didn't want to think about what he could do to her the next two days. This kind of thing should've been impossible. How did she get here? Again and again, she considered her situation and each time she came to the exact same conclusion.

  She messed up at work. She deserved this.

  A much smaller voice at the back of her head, one Clara refused to even acknowledge, whispered an entirely different answer. It suggested that maybe, just maybe, this excited her.

  Eric came back with a syringe in hand. "Hold out your arm," he said, clearly unwilling to brook either discussion or debate.

  Submitting to his authority, she did it. She lifted his arm and clamped her eyes shut as he took an antiseptic wipe and cleaned the spot above the vein in her arm. He touched the needle to her skin, pressed down, and depressed the plunger. The needle’s bite stung for a moment, but he did this with expert precision. It didn’t hurt for lo
ng.

  Some part of her wondered why she allowed that to happen. Doing her best to ignore her doubts, she asked, "What did you just give me?"

  Eric seemed amused by her question, as though it made him want to smile down at her naïveté. "Just a little something to ensure that your body behaves exactly as I wish."

  "Behaves how?"

  "You'll find out soon enough," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. It seemed he had many sides to this personality, not that this information helped her understand what he wanted. "First, we're going to work on your obedience. They give you a little test, and if you fail it I will call the police and our arrangement will come to an end. Get down on your hands and knees and crawl across the room and come back to me.”

  He spoke with perfect certainty, as though it were impossible for her to question his commands. In some ways, it felt as though she really couldn't.

  Clara berated herself silently, knowing that this was only the first order. There will be others. He was going to take her and use her. She would become his plaything. At some point, she might have fantasized about this. But those images had always remained locked deep down in a place she never discussed, nor thought about outside of her bed.

  She got down on her hands and knees. She followed his command and started to crawl like an animal. She tried to think of herself as feline, graceful and sexy though she had never really done this, not since her childhood.

  At the same time, she could feel his gaze burning into the back of her neck. He was watching her, savoring every second of her degradation. He had taken an independent young woman and reduced her to the status of chattel.

  Clara got to the far wall and she was about to turn around, but his voice interrupted that plan. "There is a drawer to your right. Open it with your teeth. Bring me the contents inside."

  That small, feminist part of her personality urged her to resist in some way. Disregarding that part of herself, Clara knew she had to obey. She had to please Eric; otherwise he would use that information against her. Besides, she had agreed to this. It wasn't like she didn't have a choice.