Unprotected Zombie Dairy: A BDSM Menage

by Miranda Cougar

  Without mercy, I pushed my slippery wet thumb firmly against her asshole, forcing it to blossom open for me. Without permission, I penetrated her ass with my fingertip. I longed to fuck her tender hole hard and rough. I desperately wanted to pay back her cruelty. Yet, inexplicably, I hesitated to thrust my thumb deeper inside her clenched backdoor.

  “What are you waiting for stupid cow? Fuck my asshole.” she screamed.

  With her permission, I thrust forcefully inside her tight backdoor. I ripped through her forbidden entrance and pumped hard. In and out I penetrated her, with the full strength of my aching fingers and hand. Up and down. Over and over again I fucked her tight cunt and asshole. When I had no strength left to continue thrusting inside her, I pulled my sopping wet digits from her hungry holes and brought them to my mouth, licking them clean.

  With swift urgency, I slid my face out from under the brunette hupig’s queening stool. For a moment the cruel redhead refused to release my nipple, instead choosing to pull tautly on my flesh, causing me to cry out in anguish. When she was satisfied with the intensity of my screams, she released my abused tit and allowed me to slide my head underneath her queening stool.

  Desperate to make her cum, I positioned my face directly below her fragrant, dripping cunt and lifted my tongue to lick her. I dipped my tongue inside her wet sex and scooped out scoop after scoop of delicious cum. She bent forward and grabbed the flesh of both of my full, round, tits. Once again, I screamed in agony.

  I don’t know how she managed to lean forward and latch onto my huge tits with her big pregnant belly in the way, but the excruciating pain shooting through my chest was proof she had. She milked me roughly, forcing stream after stream of hot milk to shoot up and out of my breasts. As I lapped up her pussy juice, she slurped down my hot cream.

  “Fuck, your milk is delicious,” she complimented me between tastes of my creamy bounty.

  Shifting my mouth to her clit, I flicked my tongue lightly over the tiny hard nub. She didn’t move her pussy an inch. Instead, she remained completely still, allowing my tongue full access to the ruffled folds of her sex. She made loud gulping sounds alternating with pained grunts. We continued in this position until she drank both my breasts dry.

  “Make me cum,” she moaned after she’d emptied my tits completely of their milk and released her painful grip on my nipples.

  I licked her from clit to asshole, then back up to her clit again. I dipped my fingers back inside her pussy and backdoor. I tried every trick I knew to make her cum. But, just when I was certain she was about to orgasm, her climax would evade her.

  With my neck and tongue sore from what felt like hours of giving her pleasure, I felt as though I’d failed her. Fatigued from my delicious work, I took a needed break, slipping my tongue back inside my mouth and resting my head on the hammock beneath her queening stool. Suddenly, I felt a familiar tingle beneath my clit that told me it was time for a potty break.

  When I stopped licking her pussy, the redheaded hupig made soft, pitiful whimpering sounds that made me feel sorry for her. It seemed as though she was afraid her orgasm would never come.

  “Swinea,” I whispered. “I have to pee. Will you please excuse me while I go to the bathroom?”

  “Okay, but I’m going to the bathroom with you,” she snorted. “You still owe me an orgasm. You can’t escape me so easily.”

  Chapter 9

  Daisy

  “Get into the bathtub. Now!” Swinea barked, as she watched me run a stream of cool water over the swollen and aching fingers of my right hand.

  I had just finished tinkling into the toilet while she watched. I’d felt somewhat embarrassed letting her watch me pee. But, it was no less a humiliating experience than allowing her to tweak my nipples painfully while I’d lapped at her pussy earlier. I had pleasured her snatch with my tongue for nearly an hour, but the brat hadn’t climaxed.

  I still owed her an orgasm. I knew it. She knew it.

  But, my whole body ached from the abuse she’d already dealt out. And I didn’t think I could stand another hour of her harsh treatment of my tits and tongue. She’d already used me too roughly, and my little body was sore and spent.

  By the time I’d given up on trying to make her climax earlier and had come up for air from her pussy, we were all alone. The kitchen that had once been filled with dozens of cooking hupigs and the scent of fresh home cooking was now empty. The hupigs had all likely left to serve lunch to the hundreds of people flooding into the inner farmhouse compound gates.

  Thank goodness, so many of us had escaped the zombie attack. Our farm would have been destroyed if the zombies had managed to drink most of our men to death and cart off the majority of our women to transform them into zombie hucows. But, from what I saw before Hamma led me into the farmhouse’s kitchen, most everyone was already safe. Many of us had been lost, but not the majority. Thank goodness.

  I hope both the farmer and Magnus are safe. I hope they made it back inside the compound before the gates had to be closed. Those gates would surely be locked up tight and electrified by now. If they hadn’t been, the entire compound would have already been overrun with ravenous zombies.

  I smell no rotting flesh. I hear no shrill screams. I see no people running, so I know the compound is safe. I’m safe. Well, safe from the zombies, at least.

  “Get into the bathtub. Do it now, cow!” Swinea repeated her order.

  I simply grunted in response. She’d already hurt me too much. She’d cut into me too deeply with the humiliating and painful treatment she’d subjected my body and mind to. I didn’t care about impressing her anymore. I just wanted her to be gone and out of my life. Forever.

  She clearly had plans to make my torture ongoing. She wasn’t going to let me earn a favor by making her cum the way her wife Pigletta had. Also, Swinea refused to give me her climax. She denied me my prize of delicious hupig cum. She wasn’t playing fair. And I refused to keep playing a game I had no hope of winning.

  If Magnus is still alive, and if he asks me to be his fourth, I will tell him no. I will refuse him. He’s handsome, and his two hupig wives are beautiful. But, even though his raw masculinity tempts me to say yes to becoming his bride, this brat wife of his makes our future marriage an impossibility. This hupig girl’s behavior is too cruel to endure. I don’t want anything more to do with her. Or the endless torture she probably has planned for me.

  By refusing Swinea the future use of my body, I may have just earned myself an enemy. It’s a truth I want to deny, but know I must face. You tried your best. The words strobed in front of my eyes.

  I’d already made her smoking hot brunette wife orgasm, so the brunette owed me a favor. Maybe I can leverage that favor to protect myself. From what I’ve learned from Bella, hupigs are serious about their honoring their favors. A favor is an unbreakable promise to them. Favor. Favor. Favor. I wish the cruel brat who was standing in the bathtub, owed me one. Something in the back of my brain told me one day I might need her help.

  “Obey me, heifer!” The brat stomped one foot on the bathtub floor and screamed.

  I ignored her and continued allowing the cool running tap water to soothe my aching, injured fingers, hand, and wrist. Then with my good hand, I splashed a few cupped handfuls of the cold water on my chest to help relieve the raw, burning sensation plaguing my much-abused nipples and tits.

  “What’s your IQ?” the brat huffed.

  I shook my head while I clenched then unclenched my fists. I growled under my breath, fed up with hupigs asking me what my IQ was. I turned to face her in time to watch her widen her stance inside the cast iron and porcelain clawfoot tub. Her arousal dripped down her inner thighs.

  “My IQ’s 174. What’s your IQ?” I challenged her.

  Her big brown eyes bugged out, popping wide open. A pained expression flashed behind them. In an instant, the line of the cute redhead’s mouth transformed from a commanding sneer into one of the fake toothy smiles the hupigs wear for each other
during their games of intrigue. She gulped hard. Yet, she never allowed her smile to drop. Not even a little bit.

  “170,” she boasted while puffing out her chest and making her pert just enough tits bounce up and down in the process.

  She smiled wider, baring her perfectly aligned bright white teeth. The show she was putting on looked exhausting, and her display of prowess was lost on me, so I decided to put an end to it.

  “Close your mouth, brat,” I sneered, allowing my irritation with her to come through in my voice.

  “What?” she gasped, blinking her eyes several times. Her eyes watered, but her rapid blinking held back her flow of tears. This highborn hupig was clearly unused to being spoken to so sternly by a hucow — especially a hucow who was as lowborn as me.

  I turned away from her again to lean over the sink and splash more cold water over the peaked tips of my sore nipples.

  Her cruel game was unraveling. She thought she was going to intimidate me with her IQ. She’d been determined to lord her intellectual prowess over me, but her mean girl hupig scheme didn’t work out as planned. My number is 174. Hers is 170. That’s only a four point difference. However, four points mean a lot in the hupig world – according to Bella.

  Bella should know. She was raised in a family of aristocratic hupigs and hubulls. Although she was destined to be a lowly hucow for a time, fate has allowed her to rise in rank again as a farmer’s wife.

  It should have been a smart move on Swinea’s part to ask me about my IQ. I can see why she tried to intimidate me with her stats. I should have been intimidated. I should have groveled before her like the lowborn hucow I was.

  But, today the brat was unlucky. Today, she probably met a genius level hucow for the first time ever. Her silly humiliation game brought her down low while it raised me up high. I’m certain it was an unexpected defeat for her.

  The average hucow has an IQ of 131. That’s above average intelligence. But, most hucows don’t own the genius numbers that hupigs and hubulls do. We tend to be born of common human stock, so it’s natural for our numbers to be lower than theirs. It’s rare for a hucow to be descended from a highborn family.

  Also, a hucow has never become a farmer. The majority of farmers are hubulls. But, there are also a fair number of hupig farmers as well.

  Swinea’s mother, Mistress Porchetta was one such highborn celebrity hupig farmer. Although, she’s become a hermit and a social outcast now that her entire stable of hucows has abandoned her farm to turn feral. They’re all zombies now, wandering the open pastures as rotting corpses, part of the undead, hucow zombie herd.

  Mistress Porchetta’s farm was where the hucow zombie apocalypse first started. One of her hucows was patient zero.

  Some say she’s responsible for the zombie apocalypse. I’ve heard rumors that her farm was the first affected by zombieism because she was conspiring with a rogue, former government scientist to experiment on her herd. Rumor has it she was trying to transform the hucows on her farm into docile, easily controlled, mindless cattle.

  Everyone knows us hucows are feisty and require a load of praise and coddling to produce good quality milk. We’re feisty but sweet. It’s what we’re known for. That’s where the phrase, ‘the feistier the hucow, the sweeter the milk’ comes from.

  Last year, the country’s leading investigative journalism team, accused Mistress Porchetta of funding a series of illegal experiments on her farm. The accusation was that her primary goal was to make her hucows completely submissive and willing to accept all sorts of inhuman treatment while simultaneously tripling their milk production. The journalism team also accused the farmer of regularly mistreating her hucows, and then paying off government officials to ignore her misdeeds.

  It appears her experiments were successful. Every zombie hucow is completely submissive to the collective zombie herd, and they each produce much more milk than the average hucow.

  Unfortunately, their milk is tainted and undrinkable. It will turn any woman who drinks it into a zombie hucow. Plus, the horde has a nasty habit of killing men. They will drink down the life essence of any male they can wrap their lips around. They’ll age a man from twenty-nine to one-hundred-and-nine in a matter of minutes.

  Scientific experimentation may have made me into the milky hucow I am today. But, it also made the hucows in the zombie herd into glowing blue-eyed, green-toothed freaks. Science can be a bitch sometimes.

  I heard a soft whimper escape from the back corner of the room, so I turned to face Swinea.

  I don’t know why I was surprised that my adorable bratty companion wasn’t saying anything. Mumbles and whimpers were the only sounds escaping her lips.

  She was just standing inside the empty bathtub pouting. Her squinting eyes were lowered. She was still blinking, but her long lashes were no longer doing their job. Her tears were tumbling down her cute chubby cheeks, leaving wet streaks on her otherwise perfectly flawless face. She looked pitiful and ‘oh, so sad’ as Bella would say.

  My clit throbbed. My body betraying my mind with its lustful desires. Now that Swinea was no longer behaving like a complete bitch, I suddenly wanted her. I wanted the pleasure of making her cum and drinking down her delicious hupig nectar. I longed to own her body with mine. I needed her desperately.

  Chapter 10

  Daisy

  “Please make me cum,” the brat standing in the bathtub begged in a barely audible, but pleading voice.

  She dipped one finger inside her cunt and then held the glistening digit out to me as an offering. “Here, taste my sex. It will make you feel good, and it will make you desire me.”

  I scrunched up my nose and narrowed my eyes as if the very thought of tasting her fluids repulsed me. However, nothing could have been farther from the truth. I wanted Swinea. I wanted to lap at the bratty hupig’s pussy until I made her cum all over my face.

  “Taste me, please,” she begged. “You already have so much of my flavor in your system. Just one more taste will send you over the edge into ecstasy. I promise. My fluids will make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before. Please help me. I need to cum so badly. Please, make me cum, sweet, kind hucow.”

  Moved by her humble plea, I strode over to the bathtub, parted my lips and sucked the tart sticky sex from her outstretched finger. Then I slid my tongue up and down her finger’s length, completely licking her clean.

  Swinea was beautiful. There was no denying it. Aside from Bella and Hamma, she was the most gorgeous cherub I’d ever laid eyes on.

  I’ve always had a craving for chubby girls. Their soft bodies are so sinfully sexy. Their plump curves make my pussy sopping wet. My lust for them burns a raging fire inside my core. When my need for chubby girl sex grips me, it’s a desire I can’t control.

  Who am I kidding? When my need for any sex grabs a hold of me, I lose all self-control. I’m a hucow. It’s in my nature to be lusty. And the beautiful brat standing in front of me dipping her finger inside her wet cunt again is making my pussy incredibly wanton with lust.

  I swallowed. Suddenly the floor shifted under me, and I felt as though I had no legs. In an instant, my mind and body relaxed into the sensation of floating in mid-air. I wasn’t actually floating, but I might as well have been, the illusion was that real.

  Electric pleasure danced up and down my spine and skipped outward along every nerve ending in my body. My fingertips tingled. My lips went numb. My clit pulsed and throbbed with an explosive intensity that forced my body to climax. My belly cramped then relaxed into surreal ripples of satisfaction.

  Grip. Release. Grip. Release. My cunt spasmed in ecstasy. I opened my mouth and howled out my pleasure. Bright colors shot out like fireworks across Swinea’s face. Spinning colored wheels spelled out the name Bella right in front of my eyes.

  Bella. My lover has a beautiful name.

  I don’t know why I’m thinking about my best friend right now, or why I’m calling her my lover. Wait, yes I do. This hupig pussy juice is doing some
thing to my perception of reality — something magical that I absolutely love. Also, if Swinea were a blonde, and slightly less voluptuous, she could pass for Bella’s younger twin sister. In my current state, I suppose it’s natural for my mind to be confused between the two beauties.

  When I became the last hucow in the country, the farmer declared my body off limits to everyone. No one was even allowed to touch me, let alone have sex with me. I was forced to give up my Magnus addiction.

  Magnus the hubull. Honorable, brave Magnus. That man is a sex god. I’ve missed the penetrating power of his steel rod between my thighs. I’ve missed loving him. I want to make love to him again soon.

  For two weeks, the farmer barred me entirely from having sex. His fingers on my pussy during my mikings were the only sexual pleasure I was allowed. Every day he used his fingers expertly to make me cum. But for a hucow as lusty as me, fingers weren’t enough. I needed more. I was so physically frustrated I thought I would go mad with lust.

  But, then the farmer, Flavius, saved me.

  Flavius. I don’t know why I never say or think the farmer’s name. Flavius. Flavius the hubull. It's a shame most everyone calls him by his title, ‘farmer.' His name is strong and manly. It also hints at his cocky and playful nature. It perfectly suits his status as the leader of our farm.

  After sentencing me to two weeks without sexual pleasure for the crime of being the last hucow, Flavius gave me the gift of my best friend. He permitted only Bella and himself to touch me and pleasure my body sexually.

  Beautiful Bella. She’s been so good for me these past two years, keeping me sexually sated. I wish I could lick her sweet orange-cream flavored pussy right now. She’d taste delectable on my lips. I know she would.

  Bella would make any woman a fine wife. My heart desperately hopes that one day she’ll become my beautiful wife. I would be happy to be her and the farmer’s fourth. Our marriage would, without a doubt, be a love match.