Now His Milk Cow (A Lactation Fantasy)

by Bennet, Ashley K.

  Up ahead, Clara noticed a metal trough. That seemed to be their destination.

  "Eric asked me to make sure you understood how this would work. Right now, I'm going to teach you all about taking care of yourself. That means feeding and grazing when you're allowed."

  Grazing. That word made Clara very nervous all of a sudden. She knew what it meant in a purely academic sense, but she had never really been to a farm. Hoping it was a euphemism, she gazed up at Rachel.

  Rachel crouched down, bending her knees, and patted Clara on the head. “You need to keep your strength up. Now, I know you had your injection, which means you’ll have no trouble digesting this yummy, yummy grass.”

  “No! You can’t be serious!” Rachel’s words had finally sunk in, and there was no way Clara would crawl around out here and actually graze! She wasn’t an animal! She did not belong in a barnyard. As she declared this was impossible, Clara expected an argument. She figured Rachel would patronize or threaten her.

  The younger woman didn’t bother. With a giggle on her lips, she said, “Shock.”

  The pulse of electricity blasted through her nervous system. “That’s not enough to hurt you,” Rachel explained, “But I imagine it’s very painful nonetheless.” Her eyes glimmered again as she drank in the other girl’s humiliation.

  She glowered at Rachel, biting down and wishing she could do something.

  “Eat,” Rachel ordered.

  The cowgirl glared for another second before lowering her mouth down to the lush grass beneath her knees and palms. Clara opened her mouth. The scent of the grass made her think of summer and PE classes back in middle school. As Rachel watched, Clara grabbed up some stalks of grass. She bit and tore them free.

  “Be sure to chew. That part is very important.”

  Getting advice on how to graze made Clara shudder with embarrassment. Only yesterday, she had been a professional, someone other people listened to. Now she wore cowbells. Now she had been collared and milked.

  She chewed for several seconds then swallowed. Clara hated to admit it, but she found the grass to be pretty pleasant. She tried to picture it as some sort of hyper-elaborate salad, the sort of thing very wealthy people might buy.

  “Now don’t wander too far,” Rachel teased, yanking on Clara’s leash to remind the cow that she had a very specific range. Then she pulled out her phone and sat down a few feet away. Clara glanced over at Rachel and pictured herself pouncing on the girl, pinning her, then forcing her to wear the collar. The idea filled Clara with triumph, but a rumbling in her stomach reminded her that she had something else to do.

  Clara had to keep her strength up. For one, if she refused to eat, that would almost definitely mean more punishments. And as much as she didn’t like to think it, Clara knew she couldn’t take many more of the shocks. Each one burned and stung in ways she could hardly explain. So she had to behave. Besides, she was hungry.

  So the cowgirl bent down, bowing her head into the vegetation, and she ate. She nibbled at first, but before long she learned how to get multiple blades of grass into her mouth at the same time. This task might have been simple, but she started to relax and perhaps even enjoy herself.

  Clara tried to tell herself this was sort of like gardening. She ripped the grass from the ground, chewed, and swallowed. More surprising, it actually made her feel satisfied. Deep down, she couldn’t help but wonder what Eric’s drug had done to her. It made her produce milk. It heightened her sensitivity. But what else? Did it help her digest grass like a genuine bovine?

  Those thoughts were interrupted when Rachel called out, “Are you nice and full? You’ve been eating for more than an hour.”

  An hour? Really? Somehow, time had gotten away from her. Feeling full and oddly content, Clara peeked up at her keeper. Right then, she swallowed, suddenly nervous at the expression she found on Rachel’s face.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Ready for what, exactly?”

  “Come on, little moo cow,” said the other girl. Rachel wrapped Clara’s leash around her wrist then started for the barn. Remembering how the collar’s shocking bite could hurt, the cowgirl trotted after Eric’s sister.

  With each step, her heart sped up. What did Rachel have planned for her? Suspicion nipped at Clara’s thoughts, but she refused to make one speculation in particular. She simply couldn’t make herself wonder if Eric’s sister intended to milk her too.

  No. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Could she?

  Clara kept hoping right up until they stepped into the barn. At first, the cowgirl expected it to be filled with dust and hay. Instead, she found a reasonably clean chamber filled with different jugs and empty stalls. The place didn’t smell like horse or any other animal really. If anything, she caught the scent of freshly cut grass.

  In the middle of the room, one specific piece of furniture waited for Clara. She recognized this fact without needing to be told. It looked like a table, but it had a set of straps for her wrists and another set of stirrups, again equipped with little restraints. Cold and metal, just the sight of this thing made Clara’s skin ripple with goose bumps.

  “No, please. Don’t. Not again!”

  “Quiet, moo cow, or I’ll have to use your favorite s-word.”

  Clara dipped her head back down, wishing she could burn a hole in the floor with the heat of her rage. This was going to happen again unless Clara found some way out of it. Or maybe if she behaved, then it would happen quickly. Granted, it would be humiliating to feel this girl’s hands on her breasts, but then it would be over. It wouldn’t have to involve sex this time.

  With those ideas in mind, Clara crawled across the barn floor to the metal table. She clambered up onto it, lowered herself onto her back, and spread her legs. “Good girl,” Rachel said, speaking to the chattel as though she had a choice in the matter.

  “Do we need the straps?”

  “When it comes to barely domesticated animals?” Rachel asked, making the question sound stupid. “Of course.” She then went ahead and looped the restraints around Clara’s limbs. Each one locked into place, and Clara felt utterly trapped. She had never been tied down like this.

  Experimentally, she pulled on the restraints. They didn’t budge at all. She was completely and totally powerless.

  Clara summoned some of her courage and turned her head to the side, “Can we get this over with?”

  “Absolutely,” Rachel responded. She went back to one of the counters and gathered up several devices. One looked like a pump. A set of suction cups and tubes looped into the small engine and two jugs. Clara hoped she wouldn’t be expected to fill those. There was no way she could do it.

  Rachel attached the suction cups. She gave a light pull on each one to make sure they would remain in place. Clara didn’t know what sort of adhesive held them over her hardening nipples, but it didn’t really matter so long as they could get this over with as soon as possible.

  “What do you do with the milk?” asked Clara to distract herself.

  “We drink some. We sell some. You’d be surprised about the market for this stuff.” Rachel grinned down at Clara. The young woman ran her fingers from Clara’s shin up to her knees then back down to her inner thigh.

  Her nostrils flared, and Clara felt her body tense up. She tried to fight down the onrushing sensations of arousal, but her best efforts meant nothing compared to the power and desire of her own body. Whatever Eric had given her turned a million years of evolution and erotic desire against her.

  “Would you like me to touch you?”

  Clara clamped her eyes closed while Eric’s sister started to tease her. She worked her small, soft fingertips against some of Clara’s most sensitive skin. Within seconds, her slit had moistened as her heart rate spiked again. Clara couldn’t believe this. She had never had any bisexual fantasies. Simply having Rachel as another woman should have shut down her sex drive, yet the nerves in her skin didn’t seem to matter.

  “Please, don’t.”
<
br />   “Oh, but I think you like it. Don’t you?”

  Clara opened her mouth to insist she didn’t, that nothing Rachel did could inspire her interest. She was straight. She had no interest in another female, yet before a single one of those rationales could get out, Rachel slid four of her fingers along Clara’s outer lips. Clara shuddered and shook. If the table hadn’t been bolted into place, it might have tipped over.

  “I can stop if you really want.”

  Clara’s throat clenched up. She didn’t want to ask. She didn’t want to plead or beg. Nothing could have been as shameful, but what choice did she have? With her mouth watering in anticipation, Clara yielded. “No,” she gasped. “Please don’t stop.”

  “Do you want me to touch you?”

  Now that she had asked once, Clara couldn’t stop herself. She had surrendered a piece of herself, and she couldn’t get it back. That’s why she quickly replied, “Yes! Please, Rachel, please touch me!”

  She had just asked another girl to touch her, to make her orgasm. Clara never thought of how it would feel to come like this, not that she would ever try to get Rachel to stop. Clara needed this. The craving seared throughout her body. She felt it from the tips of her toes all the way up to the back of her neck.

  Rachel slowly, teasingly, languidly graced her fingers along Clara’s crevice once again. She did it repeatedly, petting Clara as though she were a little kitty. Only after Clara was about to start begging again did Eric’s sister actually press her fingers into the opening. Her lips parted easily because Clara was already so hot and wet and ready for penetration, any sort of penetration.

  The second Rachel’s digits slipped into her hot spot, Clara shuddered again tugging on her restraints. She couldn’t move, but her hips shot up anyway. Clara shut her eyes and savored every sensation. Distantly, she heard Rachel switch a flip and the pump came to life.

  Opening her eyes again, Clara watched as the tubes filled with white milk. Eric had milked her himself, kneading and squeezing her tits until the special juices leaked out. Rachel kept teasing her, working her up, so close to orgasm.

  It didn’t take long before Clara realized something. She wasn’t going to come, not with the taunting way Rachel kept petting her. Every stroke and caress kept her heart pounding with longing, but none of them allowed her to click into the heights of climax. It was like the other girl wanted her aroused but had no intention of letting her come.

  “Please, please, faster? Please, pleas go faster,” Clara begged, her voice low simply because she didn’t have the air to get any louder.

  “Not yet.”

  “Please!”

  “Do you really want to come? Because you’ll have to pay for it.”

  Clara could only tangentially understand what Eric’s sister told her. The words made sense in a very distant, very abstract fashion. As such, Clara said, “Yes! Yes, anything!” She really would have offered up anything and everything she had.

  “If you insist,” Rachel shrugged, then started to work more quickly. Her fingers swirled little circles inside of Clara, teasing her clit. She pressed down on Clara’s buttons, faster and harder, with just enough force to allow her to orgasm. The onslaught of pleasure rained down through her skin like flashes of light from a million little stars.

  Lips parted, Clara cried out as the pleasure burst forward then receded back. Rachel withdrew her wet fingers and came closer to Clara’s face. “Clean these,” she ordered and shoved her sleek digits less than an inch from the restrained girl’s mouth.

  At first, Clara pictured herself resisting, but then she remembered how she agreed to do whatever Rachel wanted. That’s why she leaned forward and took her fingers in her mouth. She licked and wiped them clean with her tongue. The taste of her own excitement and private parts made part of Clara want to retch, but she resisted the impulse.

  Finally satisfied, Rachel withdrew her fingers and wiped them off on the side of her shirt. Then she loosened her pants and let them fall to the floor. Her panties quickly followed.

  “What, what are you doing?” Clara asked as the other girl turned off the pumps. Only then did Clara turn her head and see that the jugs had been filled. She did it. She produced several quarters, maybe even gallons, of milk. It seemed so impossible, yet the evidence sat right there.

  “You owe me.”

  “But I cleaned your fingers.”

  “That wasn’t payment, silly moo cow,” Rachel said. She climbed onto the table then crouched over Clara. The cowgirl tried to struggle and thrash, but the straps kept her down in place as Rachel’s bottom dominated her vision. Within seconds, she could see and smell the Rachel’s glistening sex.

  “You’re going to eat me out, or we’re going to have to work on your understanding of honor. You made a promise, Clara, and now you’re going to live up to it.” Rachel sounded positively gleeful, not that Clara could see her face to confirm it. "Lick, lick little cowgirl."

  The idea of servicing another woman had never entered Clara's mind. She didn't want to do it, yet what choice did she have? Rachel could ensure her obedience with just one word, a very painful set of sounds.

  Clara leaned upward, straining her neck, and she started to lick. The taste of another woman was exotic and unfamiliar. Rachel started to purr and grown in equal measure, clearly enjoying the subjugated pleasure that Clara gave her.

  The cowgirl hoped this would last for very long. But when Rachel said, "Deeper, faster,” it was clear that this could take some time. Rachel wasn't going to let Clara off the hook until she had done a good job. Realizing this, the cowgirl tried her best. She flicked her tongue up into the other girl’s slit. She worked her tongue into little hurricane motions.

  She stretched her tongue, teasing Rachel’s clit, working the girl into a frenzy of desire. For her part, Rachel remained in the same position even as her fingers tightened around the sides of the table. This little cowgirl may have been an amateur, and this may have been her first time, but she definitely demonstrated potential.

  As the enslaved girl’s tongue works quicker and greater dexterity, Rachel felt herself start to orgasm. She pictured Clara's expression. She thought about how must feel to started out as his professional young woman, someone who could control her life, only to end up there, on this table, restrained and milked.

  Bowing her head, Rachel cried out, then arched her back and screamed up at the roof of the barn. The hot pleasure flooded through her like a tsunami of magma. It's simmered through her every nook and cranny.

  Lifting herself off of Clara's face, Rachel hopped off the table, gathered up her clothes, and smirked down at the look of utter humiliation the cow wore.

  "Would you like to pretend to be a human again?" asked Rachel without a trace of irony in her voice.

  They were walking back from the barn. Well, Rachel got to walk. Clara had to crawl a few feet behind her owner. In spite of herself, it was difficult not to go to those terms. Collard, naked, and clearly there for the pleasure of others, Clara almost started to think of herself as property, as their plaything.

  No, she couldn't go in that direction. This was a business arrangement like any other. She messed up big at work, so now she had to pay for it. But that was all. This wasn't going to last forever, so she just had a hold out a little while longer.

  "Pretend?" Clara said. "What you mean?"

  They came back to the room with Clara's cage. Rachel crouched down in front of little cowgirl. Even with her knees bent, Eric's sister towered over Clara who remained on her hands and knees. With the most condescending smile imaginable, Rachel said, "Well, I earn my keep by keeping this place reasonably clean. If you'd like to take on so my chores, I'll let you walk around like a human."

  "I am a person," Clara insisted although even she could hear the hesitation in her own voice. Refusing to dwell on that, she asked, "What would I have to do?" In actuality though, Clara couldn't think of anything more humiliating than what she had already endured.

  Rach
el brought Clara back into her holding chamber. Only this time, Rachel headed straight for one of the closets. She flung open, pulled out an outfit, and held it up like a flag for Clara to see.

  Clara's heart jumped across three beats in less than a second. Her mouth went dry because she could imagine how to feel to wear this costume. Sure, she wanted to put on something real. She couldn’t ever remember going this long bare ever before, but that? Part of her wanted to say no immediately. It might have even been satisfying to tell Rachel to go screw herself.

  "What would I have to do?"

  "Some vacuuming, some dusting. Maybe wash the windows. To be honest, I usually do a really good job of keeping this place spotless. So yeah, do the little touchups and you’ll get the privilege of walking around like a real girl. Or you can wait here for my brother. I’m sure he’d enjoy milking you again.”

  Clara's eyes returned to the uniform. No, she reminded herself, it wasn't a uniform. That outfit was nothing less than an insult. It was a French maid costume, complete with bows, frills, and lots of lace. It was the kind of thing the guy might convince his girlfriend to wear for his birthday.

  Regretting her decision already, Clara bowed her head and said, "Fine. I'll do it."

  "Then you can stand up," Rachel said, speaking as though this were a magnanimous decision on her part. "Now you have to understand this is a great sign of trust. Deep down, I know that you're really a cow. You're always going to be happiest out on the pasture, but I don't want to babysit you."

  Clara suppressed a grin. Part of her even wanted to do a little happy dance because this meant she might be able to invade her captors for a little while. After all, the clock worked in her favor. If Rachel let her wander around to clean, then Clara just had to stay out of sight. Before she knew it, the calendar would hit Monday and her agreement with Eric would be satisfied.