Cream This Thick Ch. 04 - Aroma

The moments moved with agonizing sluggishness. Michelle thought of checking her watch or phone, but she didn't want to risk missing the green light or the shadow of one of the Mrs. Wassermans looming over her shoulder. She had to stay vigilant while cut off from all sound. There was a kind of vague buzzing mixed with the sensation of being underwater, but besides that, Michelle heard nothing.

She knew this was foolish. She had tried to avoid feeling six again while huddled in her bed, listening to her parents shout at each other. But this somehow conjured the same feeling. Like she was staring through the crack of a closet or under the bottom of a doorway, looking for shadows and trying to decipher their meaning. She felt weak and scared, not afraid of what the two women would do to each other, but more frightened of what it would mean for her.

But nothing happened. No thunder struck. No doors slammed. No dark shadow loomed over her shoulder. No green light flickered to summon her. Michelle risked a glance at the clock and saw that almost twenty minutes had passed. Eloise didn't have twenty minutes to spare. Whatever was happening in Hong Kong either had to be resolved, or maybe Vicki was sitting in the corner, waiting her turn like a good girl.

That didn't sound like Vicki.

Michelle slipped the headphones off. The office was quiet. No shouting. Not even the stern and agitated voice of Eloise as she negotiated with some fool on the other end. Things were strangely serene, as though the two women had snuck out without her noticing as some kind of cruel prank or —

"Oh fuck," someone sighed from inside Eloise's office.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," said another.

"That's right. Right there," the first voice said.

There was some kind of slamming as something fell over. Maybe a person? "Forget it," said the first voice. "Don't stop. Fuck."

Michelle blushed and started to put her headphones back on, trying to respect their privacy. But she couldn't force herself to do it. Sure, it was their business, but now they had somehow included Michelle in that business, hadn't they? It wasn't ever discussed, but she was a part of their sex life. They were aroused by the way they treated her, and she was aroused to be treated that way.

"Don't stop," the first voice said. "Right there. That's the spot. Deeper. Harder." Michelle found herself standing and approaching the office as though enchanted. She knew each woman's voice, but she couldn't tell the two apart right now. In the heat of passion, they were both thick and husky.

"That's right. Fuck me," the first voice commanded. "Fucking fuck me."

The heat spread over Michelle's body and down between her legs as she moved closer. She wondered if Eloise was begging to be fucked. It was impossible to imagine the domineering younger woman bent over a desk and begging for it. But neither could she imagine Vicki saying it either. Maybe they had a third hidden somewhere in the room. But if they did, she was being more demanding than Michelle would risk with the couple. No. It had to be one of the Mrs. Wassermans, though she couldn't imagine which one. Their voices were pained and desperate. They were weak and aching. They were compelled and subservient.

Their voices sounded like Milk.

Michelle stopped in front of the office door, her hand hovering in front of it, waiting to knock. By now she could hear the frantic breathing and panting of two lovers. Occasionally, the gasping was punctuated with a cry of "fuck," but other than that, it was the sounds of skin slapping, breath broken, and things knocked off desks.

Michelle should have stopped. She should have blushed and turned around, going back to her desk like any decent person would have done. She should have pretended she didn't hear it at all, but she couldn't ignore the effect of the eager fucking on her. It wasn't just the warmth between her legs. It was a weight in her breasts as her nipples stiffened almost to the point of pain. They were heavy and eager to be touched. It was an ache in her throat as she imagined the soft and buttery milk sliding down.

She was thirsty.

That was it. More than horny. More than curious. She was thirsty. She could suppress any desire now but her thirst. It drove her beyond the realm of the stupid, deep into the world of oblivion and self-destruction. For it was her thirst that caused her to knock on the door three times, eager to get their attention, willing to accept their wrath, as long as she could have her Milk.

The grunting didn't stop.

The moaning didn't stop.

The fucking didn't stop.

The thirst didn't stop.

Michelle moved deeper into oblivion as she opened the door and stepped into Eloise Wasserman's office. Her eyes captured the shapes of the two women, though her brain refused to process it. They were both naked and pale. The redheaded woman was in expensive lingerie: garters, stockings, heels, lace bralette, lace panties, straps of leather. The thin dark-haired woman was spread out on top of her desk. The room was in chaos. Chairs had been flipped over. The contents of the desk were scattered over the floor. A computer monitor was cracked in one corner. A keyboard was snapped nearby. The redhead stood behind the dark-haired woman, thrusting against her. Strapped to her hips was a harness, and from that harness hung a huge purple dildo. These were the facts. This was the room as the redhead plunged deeper and harder into the dark-haired woman. The air was hot and stuffy. The dark-haired woman cried out in pleasure as the redheaded woman grunted with exertion. This was reality.

But Michelle's brain was floating somewhere else.

She was thirsty.

So. Fucking. Thirsty.

Her brain focused on the refrigerator in the corner of the room. It held the Milk. It held life. It held everything. The women fucking each other wildly were just the catalyst to her thirst. They were a reminder that she was empty and needed to be filled by Mrs. Wasserman. Either one. It didn't matter. She worked for Eloise, but she served both of them. She knew it. Her body knew. It walked over to Eloise as she was fucked without hesitation. The fear was gone now. There was no fear in thirst.

Eloise noticed Michelle and sat up to say something to her secretary. Her expression was angry and confused and the kind of face that was pain and arousal all at once. Whatever she said, Michelle didn't process it. Her brain didn't care. Vicki said something too, but Michelle didn't care. The world was fuzzy and barren without the Milk. There was no sound and no music. No beauty and no color. Everything was painful and empty until she could drink again.

Without being asked, Michelle sank down to all four and assumed her cow pose. She thrust her breasts and belly down, arched her back, lifted her ass, and mooed. The women said something to her, but it didn't matter. Her breasts felt swollen and heavy. They ached almost as much as Michelle's throat. They didn't give her the Milk, so she mooed again. Vicki finally slipped out of Eloise, stepping away from the desk while Eloise climbed to her feet. Michelle didn't care. She mooed a third time, hoping they could understand her need and desperation.

Eloise appeared in front of her, squatting down low so she could look Michelle in the eyes. Her mouth moved, but only gargled nonsense came out. Yet Michelle read her lips, "Does my stupid cow want her milk?"

Michelle bit her lip and nodded. She closed her eyes, arched her back, and mooed again, sinking deeper into the shame, into oblivion. She didn't have an out-of-body experience. She didn't disassociate from herself as shame rolled over. Instead, she stepped into it, accepting the narrative Eloise had offered her. She was useless and stupid. She was a cow that made no milk. She was mildly entertaining and a burden at work. She was a stupid cow. A stupid stupid cow. She mooed and let herself become all Eloise told her she was. She mooed and —

A sharp slap from Eloise took her back to herself. The sound returned to the room with vertigo as the world spun in Michelle's eyes.

"Please," the secretary whimpered. "I need some milk."

"No," Eloise said. She didn't sound angry, but there was a danger lurking in the calmness of her voice.

"Please."

Eloise raised her hand to slap Michelle again, and the stupid cow flinched. The blow never landed. "You know my answer and my reason," Eloise said. She pointed to the corner of the room. "Go and watch. Learn something, my stupid cow."

Before Michelle had crawled away on all fours, Eloise was back on the desk, pulling her wife back into her. Vicki said something Michelle didn't quite hear, and the two women laughed. Eloise's laughter broke into moans as Vicki entered her again. Michelle sat in her corner and maintained cow pose as she watched the two women make love.

No. Not make love.

She watched them fuck.

Vicki was cruel and relentless with Eloise. She kept her balance by resting her hands tight around Eloise's slender neck. But the dark-haired woman was no victim. She goaded and mocked Vicki as the curvier woman fucked her. She wanted more. She wanted deeper. She kept asking Vicki if that was all she had, and the curvy woman slapped her hard before pinning her mouth shut with one hand, choking with the other.

The former Michelle — the real Michelle — would have been horrified to see the scene play out. She wouldn't have known which was worse. She wouldn't have been able to tell the abuser apart from the abused. But that Michelle was gone — she died of thirst. Now the cow watched the two women fuck and wondered when she would get her milk. Her breasts were heavy, and her pussy was soaked. She needed to drink so she could cum. They would mock her. Maybe they would strike her the way they struck each other. It didn't matter. After she drank, nothing mattered. They could fuck her like that if they wanted to.

Weeks ago, Michelle would have blushed at the idea of two women making love. She wondered with a gross interest what it would be like to lick a woman's pussy. She joked about the preposterousness of scissoring to climax. But now she would happily hump Vicki's leg while the redhead fucked her Eloise. She had already licked Eloise's pussy, and she knew that if they told her to, she wouldn't hesitate to lick Vicki's pussy too. The old Michelle was gone. She was sober and boring. She was productive but useless. Her breasts were light and empty, her pussy was dry and unused. It wasn't as though the cow was better than the old Michelle. No. The cow was worse. She was pathetic. Gross. Helpless. Hopeless. Worthless. Wet.

God, she was so wet.

The wetness spread from her crotch and down her breasts. Something damp soaked her shirt as she watched Eloise climax. Vicki stepped away from her wife, winded. The purple dildo glistened with Eloise's juices. The dark-haired woman's chest rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath. Her thighs quivered with delight as the orgasms were still rolling over her. Vicki looked over at the cow and smirked to herself. Without ceremony, she loosed the strap-on harness and let the dildo thud to the ground between her legs. As she strode towards Michelle, she ripped a hole in her lace panties.

She never gave an order. Michelle would have never done it, and the cow didn't need it. As Vicki's pussy presented itself before her mouth, Michelle went to work, licking eagerly. She pretended it was milk. It wasn't. It was nowhere close. But Michelle needed to pretend. She needed to get through this. When both women were satisfied, she might be allowed to drink Milk. Then they may want to play with her again, and she would let them. She would let them do whatever they wanted to her as long as they kept her supplied with Milk.

The cow's breasts ached as she licked. Vicki said something, and Michelle felt the presence of Eloise standing over her. Michelle didn't stop. She couldn't stop. This was it. Each time she had the chance to get Milk, she knew her options were simple: serve or die. She couldn't go on without the Milk, and whatever they did to her wouldn't be so bad once the white cream was running down her chin and over her lips.

There was a sudden rush and jerk. Michelle almost yelped, but she focused on licking Vicki's pussy. She alternated between trying to get her tongue as deep as possible in the woman's pussy and trying to flick Vicki's swollen clit as quickly as possible.

There was another jerk and the sound of rushing. Michelle's blouse was ripped away with a third jerk, but it didn't matter. She didn't need a shirt to lick pussy. She didn't need a shirt to drink milk. When her bra fell away, she didn't stop either. That wouldn't serve her either. All she needed was to make them happy. Then they would feed her. That was it. That was her life now.

A hand reached between her legs. It worked its way past her panties quickly and slid three fingers deep into Michelle's soaked pussy. It felt wonderful, yes, but all the cow could think of was the Milk. Milk was better than being fucked. It was better than cumming. It was better than dignity. She focused on her task, sucking on the clit to pull it closer to her tongue and flicking it back and forth with the tip. Vicki bucked against her. She ran her hands through Michelle's hair. She pulled and tugged. She hurt Michelle, but it didn't matter. Cows don't matter. Their pain doesn't matter. Michelle had to focus on serving. She had to make Vicki happy. She had to make both of the Mrs. Wassermans happy. It was her calling, her purpose. It was the only way out. The only way through.

Michelle didn't know when Vicki came. She was too distracted by the moment Eloises's fingers finally made her cum. Not because of the pleasure — pleasure doesn't matter to cows. But when she came, Michelle's back arched, and all the pressure and soreness in her breasts flooded out. She felt something wet running down her belly, heading towards her legs. She collapsed into the carpet of Eloise Wasserman's office while Vicki stepped away from her. She said something, but Michelle didn't make it out.

Eloise stooped down into her field of vision. "Want a taste?" she said.

"Milk?" Michelle croaked out. Her throat felt so dry.

Eloise flicked Michelle's nipple. Michelle whimpered and writhed, but then Eloise shoved a finger in Michelle's mouth. It was warm and buttery. It was light and creamy. It was heaven.

It was Milk.

"That's right, cow," Eloise whispered. She brushed the sweaty hair out of Michelle's face. "Now we can milk you." With her free hand, Eloise squeezed Michelle's nipple. The older woman arched her back and mooed as the milk flowed from her breasts. Eloise offered another taste but pulled her finger back before giving it to Michelle.

"But first," she said, "I need you to clean my office."

Vicki laughed from the other side of the room. "You're such a bitch," she said.

Eloise looked at her wife. "You love it." She looked back at Michelle. "What do you say, cow? Can you clean for me? Then we can see how much Milk you can make."

Michelle nodded. It may take hours to clean the office, and she had no shirt or bra. But the smell of Milk was all over her now. She would do anything to drink it, even if it came from her.

Absolutely anything.