Monday, July 14, 2014

The Milking

I suppose it has been a long time coming. Little hints along the way, pointing to the obvious culmination of all our little lactation jokes cresting on the horizon. I've kept her producing, even though our little one no longer breastfeeds. The tits are all mine again! And I keep them hard, firm, and full of milk. 

It fuels her thoughts and desires to be a simple animal, kept and of use. The slave wrote a bit of fiction, a story of being reduced to nothing more than a cow. Placed on all fours, her voice stolen by a gag, hands wrapped tightly into hooves. He places a pail under her udders, telling her of the coming humiliation. He wraps his hands around her breast and works her engorged flesh. The milk sprays into the pail with an audible hiss. He laughs as her body reddens at the sound, a blush of humiliation from head to toe. A deep, long moan escapes the gag. He continues, forcing the milk out of her, spraying it into the growing puddle at the bottom of the pail. 

His unforgiving grip elicited uncontrolled mewing, her bosom heaving with her growing desire. Milky moisture building at the gateway of her wagging sex as he milked her dry. Her udders grew more and more tender with each crushing caress, bringing tears to her eyes as the final droplets fell with a resounding plink.

I had enjoyed reading her story quite a bit. It struck me every bit as the the culmination of our animal play and constant breast engorgement efforts! It started as we were laying around in the living room together, the children playing games, my hand down my slave's shirt massaging her tender tits, the first droplets of milk soaking between my fingers. I worked the tender nipples, causing little sprays of white cream to lance out. It delighted me, twisting them to spray her in the face, watching her lick up the mess from my hands. That sealed it. 

As soon as the kiddos were tucked securely in bed, I brought my cow to the room and began the transformation. On her knees, I wrapped her hands in Vet wrap to seal her fingers into helpless hooves. The slave had placed her recently purple dyed hair into delightful pig tails and they swayed enticingly as I finished the application of the wrap. Next, a tender kiss to her trembling lips before forcing the large, soft ball of the leather panel gag into her mouth, buckling it closed around her head. I forced a test moan or two from her packed mouth with a squeeze of the dangling nipples. The metal rings around her wrists and ankles were bound together with double ended clips. The final touch, a bell attached to her collar rang out with each struggling  movement as I pulled her into position over the metal dog dish, my substitute pail. 

Her udders dangled beautifully over the glint of the awaiting metal dish. I took them into my hand, working my fingers down the length of the tit. I enjoyed her whimpering at my touch. The first droplets began to fall, dripping into the dish. My fingers worked her swollen glands, deeply massaging the tissues as milk began flowing into the bowl. Oh how she moaned, that deep longing groan. 

      "Such a cow!" I teased her. My slave's hips bucked. I reached back around her ass, slipping an exploring finger into her puffy lips. I was not surprised in the least to find her dripping wet and hot to the touch. "Just a beast," I chided. Again, she mooed her desperate need. But we still had a long way to go. I worked her nipple between my fingers, the flow growing to a heavy spray, ringing into the metal dish. My cow quivered as I brought her attention to the sound. Again and again, the spray shot into the dish, occasionally overshooting the edge and soaking into the carpet. 

Eventually, the flow on the first tit ebbed and my grinding touch brought the last, tentative drops into the bowl. The cow whimpered piteously, thumping into me with her hips. 
     "I'll let you know when I'm done, cow," I told her, rolling her nipple between my finger tips. My slave sobbed as I pressed on.

With the last of the secretions drained from her reddened flesh, I allowed her a moment to rest before we started the next side. The cute bell jingling as she pulled eagerly away from the bowl. I enjoyed the noticeable difference in her udders, the worked tit sagged in comparison to her unmolested breast. I teased her bell, flicking it with my finger, enjoying the blush in her cheeks, bound beneath the gag strap.  

The break came to an end and I instructed my cow to return to her position. Instantly, she obeyed, crawling back over the bowl as her bell cried out at her hobbled movements. My fingers found her eager flesh and I began the milking on the other side. My cow slave mooed and moaned as milk poured from her tit. 

Hot cream filled the bottom of the dish, the level rising as time passed. Eventually, the milk began to run dry in the other side as well and her hip grinding and moaning were having such a delicious effect on me. As was the sight of her being milked like a heifer at my feet. Just my little animal, thoughtless and humping; a creature. 

I flicked her nipple, sending the last droplets spattering into the bowl. My cow whimpered and twisted her hips, trying to escape. With a final slap, I let her collapse to the side of the dish, trying to sooth her well worked udders against the carpet. The defeated groan that escaped her trapped, compressed lips was delicious. I turned my attention to the bottom of the dish, enjoying the sight of her cream sloshing in the bowl. It would make a nice treat for the cow. 

But first, it was time for me to get some use out of her. I pulled her onto the bed and had my way with her until I was satisfied. During that time, the cream had had a chance to cool under 

the constant blowing of the AC. It was time for my cow to enjoy her treat. The gag had been removed while using her, and she licked her lips while looking at her secretions. 

"Are you ready for your treat, cow?" I asked, placing my hand on her neck, the bell ringing at my touch. She smiled, and I pulled her down, bringing her face to the bowl.
"May I," she asked, and I nodded. There was no hesitation in her tongue as it lapped at the cooled cream. Lick after lick, her milk was consumed until she was licking the bowl clean, pushing it around with her effort to get every last drop. Finished, she looked up at me with a wet smile and a smudge of white cream on her nose. 
"My good cow," I said, patting her back side. My slave beamed up at me with her broad, moist smile before wiping her face on the carpet. 
"How are these?" I asked, gripping her dangling udders. She groaned, pulling her arms in tight. "Well used?" I added, and she nodded. 

Spent, she turned and collapsed at my feet with a final jingle of her bell. My sweet cow slave, drained in so many ways, cuddled up to my legs and sighed her contentment at being used. After all, she is just an animal...

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