Cream This Thick Ch. 06

Cream This Thick Chapter 6: First Customer

By Trixie Adara

Michelle didn't bolt up straight or run. She was too wound up. Too wet. Her clothes were soaked from her Milk and her panties were drenched with her need. It didn't matter that Vicki Wasserman -- her boss's sadistic wife -- was watching her. Vicki's hair was strawberry blonde in its usual tight ponytail and matching red power pantsuit. And the potentially adorable look of her plump face and freckled cheeks was betrayed by her dark and narrow eyes boring into Michelle. Vicki had lured her here. Vicki ran the Farm and owned all the girls here, all beautiful cows like Michelle. This was a trap, and now Vicki was going to spring it and laugh as it wrapped itself around Michelle's ankle.

But Michelle just wanted to cum.

"Come cow," Vicki said. "Get your hands out of your pants like a fucking whore and let me give you the tour."

Michelle obeyed, slowly taking her fingers out of her pussy and moaning at the last bit of pleasure before taking her hand out of her pants entirely. She rose slowly to her feet. The theater-style dressing room combined with a reality-television common room was empty of the eight cows that lived downstairs in the Barn. Hank, Vicki's ex-husband and the current handler of the girls and the Farm, was gone. They were alone.

Nothing good ever happened when Michelle was left alone with Vicki Wasserman.

"Come," Vicki said.

Michelle shook her head. "I have questions."

"Of course you do, and I don't fucking care."

"You did this to me."

"What?" Vicki stepped closer. As she did, her nose wrinkled. "Jesus, fuck, you stink."

Michelle blushed. She couldn't imagine how bad it was. It was soiled breast milk and sweat and desperation soaking the cheap sweatshirt she could fit her massive tits into. "I know," she said.

"Maybe this is why you can't keep working at the office, hm?" Vicki stepped closer. She was near enough to kiss, but Michelle couldn't do that, couldn't want that. Vicki was nothing like Tatiana. Everything she did may thrill Michelle, but that was only because it also terrified her.

"Eloise told me you were slipping, but she didn't say it was this bad. It all clicked when Hank texted me that you'd shown up. That's when I knew you were ready to come work for me."

Michelle shook her head. "I don't want --"

"I don't give a fuck what you want," Vicki said. "And neither do you, honestly. You're not my first cow. When they get to this point, they're past want. It's about need. The need to drink, the need to squirt, and the need to cum."

Michelle tried to imagine what her life was before the Milk. She was a housewife for years, taking care of her children and husband. Then James hurt himself, and she had to go back to work, she had to take care of them still. She was responsible. That's what it was. She was always responsible. Need. Right? She did whatever everyone else needed, what she needed. Vicki was more right than she could imagine, Michelle was always a creature of need and need only. She never followed desire. The only time she did what she wanted was feeding her Milk addiction, and this was what came of it.

Absolute destruction.

"You did this to me," Michelle said again.

Vicki laughed. It was awful. Cruel. Derisive. Heartless. Amused. Condescending. Eloise was a controlling and bossy woman, but Vicki was a monster. A nightmare. Eloise would overwork Michelle without a thought, but Vicki would crush Michelle because it was funny.

More Milk flowed from Michelle's breasts as she gasped, fighting back the moan.

"I did this? Tell me, did I force you to drink the Milk?"

"Eloise did." Michelle's voice was soft and far away. "You put her up to it."

"No one puts Eloise Wasserman up to anything, cow." There was venom in Vicki's voice now. Danger.

Michelle craved it.

No. The cow craved it.

Michelle wanted to run back to her husband, back to her bedroom, back to her life. There she could curl into a ball, cry, and try to find a new job. But the cow wanted to sink to her knees and pinch her nipples to relieve the pressure of the Milk so she could drink it.

"You drank the Milk, and then you asked for more." Vicki jabbed Michelle's forehead with a sharply manicured finger. "You bought it from Hank when you couldn't get enough. You mooed for it. You licked pussy for it. You licked the floor. You licked feet." With each sentence, Vicki jabbed Michelle's forehead again. Michelle staggered backwards, but Vicki followed, pinning her against the wall. "You think I could do all that? No. That was all you, cow. You were the needy and weak bitch that couldn't get a coffee order straight." A wicked smile spread over Vicki's face. "But you can now, can't you? All we have to do is dangle some Milk in front of you, and you'll be perfect, won't you?"

Tears rolled down Michelle's face. Vicki was right. The Wassermans may have introduced her to the Milk, but she was the addict. Everything she did was her fault. She was destroying her own life, and the Wassermans were just having a bit of fun with her in the meantime. That was all. They were putting a useless junkie cow to good use.

"Now," Vicki said as she stepped back. "Stop crying and let me show you what kind of operation we run here. Then you can admit that this is basically heaven." She smirked. "And I'm god."

***

Back in the main house's kitchen, Vicki's secretary -- a skinny twig of a girl named Shirley with tiny breasts and mousy brown hair -- was making them coffee. The men were gone. According to Vicki, Hank was out front to meet and greet guests as well as organize schedules and confirm appointments. If there were any emergencies, he was the one that had to figure things outs.

"It was the best decision of my life to leave him," Vicki said with a smug grin. "Divorce a man, and he suddenly becomes unbearably attentive and needy." Vicki shrugged. "I just put all that pathetic energy to use."

Michelle nodded. All that mind-numbing arousal was gone now that Vicki's heartless gaze pinned her. She had sold her Milk and established she could sell more. She didn't want to work for Vicki even if she desperately wanted the cruel attention of her boss's wife. Being under Vicki's control 24/7 was something entirely different from having to lick her feet and moo for her occasionally.

Vicki laughed. "Don't be so tense, cow. We're going to take good care of you, just like we do all our girls. Isn't that right, Shirley?"

"Yes, Mrs. Wasserman." Shirley's voice was soft, and she never made eye-contact with anyone. You'd think they'd want someone friendly and gregarious as the face of the office, but Shirley was a push-over. Though Michelle supposed that's exactly what Vicki would prefer under her.

"Wh-What do you d-d-do here?" Michelle shivered from the cold. Her clothes were drenched, and without the heat of lust she felt like a drowned rat in front of Vicki Wasserman. The curvy redhead was in a tight black suit with flowing straight-cut pants. A cream blouse was buttoned all the way up to her neck, but Michelle imagined what lingerie she was wearing underneath. As long as she had known Vicki, she was always wearing lingerie underneath whatever stunning clothing she wore like armor.

"It's a Farm, and we have cows. Don't be fucking stupid."

"Milk," Michelle said. "You make Milk."

Vicki shook her head. "No. You make Milk. Cows make it, customers help pump it, and Hank sells it." Vicki spread her arms wide and smiled dangerously. "I'm just the brains of the operation."

"C-C-Customers?" Michelle pointed to the empty couches. "Those men?"

"Not all men, but something about a good cock gets the cows mooing, yes."

"Here you go, Mrs. Wasserman." Shirley handed Vicki a cup of coffee -- black with no sugar. She offered the same to Michelle, and the nervous cow took it. Caffeine may be awful for her nerves, but she'd take jitters if she could stay alert around Mrs. Wasserman's predatory glare.

"This is a brothel," Michelle said.

Vicki arched an eyebrow. "Not a complete moron." She took a sip of her coffee. "Good."

"Because arousal is tied to our Milk production?" Michelle stared at her black coffee. It needed Milk; it was the only way she could drink it. But she couldn't bring herself to pump in front of Vicki. Besides, the Milk would turn her on again, and once that happened, she --

"Correct," Vicki said. "The release is arousing. Arousal creates flow. The drug we've engineered fools the brain into thinking that when you're wet, you have a needy baby to feed. It confuses moans for the sounds of a crying infant."

"So it's a drug. Not Milk."

"Oh, breast milk is certainly a drug. Do you have any idea how many applications there are for it? It's magic. It contains more nutrients than a whole meal as long as the mother eats healthy -- so our cows' diets are tightly controlled and monitored. It holds any anti-bodies the mother has -- including vaccinations. You can rub it on pink eye or open cuts. It's a miracle product but still very much a drug."

"And you're making it for m-m-medicinal purposes?"

Vicki laughed, and Shirley jumped behind her tiny desk. Michelle could imagine everyone at the Farm jumping when Vicki laughed. "Don't be naive," Vicki said. "We've made it addictive as fuck. You think I want people addicted to vitamins?"

"Why not? They'd be healthier and --"

"I don't give a fuck about people's health, do I, Shirley?"

"No, Mrs. Wasserman," the slender woman said. It was almost a whisper, but Vicki went on as though she heard Shirley perfectly.

"That's not entirely true." Vicki took another sip of her coffee. "I care about the health of my cows, but that's about it. Healthier cows make healthier Milk. Which reminds me, we need to talk about your diet. And do you have all your shots? Or are you some kind of rabid --" Vicki stepped closer and loomed over Michelle. "Are you going to drink your coffee or just hold it and shiver?"

Michelle shivered. "Um, it, it doesn't have any M-M-Milk."

"We're all adults here," Vicki said. Without any hesitation, she reached out and cupped Michelle's heavy breast. Michelle sighed with relief to have someone supporting the heavy breast. "You can always pump around me." She dropped the breast and stepped over to the sink, putting down her empty coffee cup. "Though I won't touch the stuff. Never sample your own product. Especially after you've seen it ruin people the way I have."

Michelle stood there, not knowing what else to do. Milk would ruin her. She knew it.

"Jesus," Vicki hissed. Her heels clicked against the kitchen tiles as she marched towards Michelle and snatched the cup of coffee from the cow. "Shirley, Michelle here needs to be Milked. Can you help her?"

"Yes, Mrs. Wasserman."

Michelle jumped; Shirley was closer than expected -- right behind her. "No," Michelle said. "I don't think --" Shirley grabbed Michelle's coffee, put it down, and pushed her out of the kitchen and onto one of the couches. Michelle tried to protest, but Shirley slapped her quickly. Michelle felt lightning erupt over her body. Not the lightning of pain, but the surge of pleasure. She tried to stifle her moan, but she still whimpered as the tiny girl pinned her to the couch.

Vicki Wasserman laughed from the kitchen.

"Hold still," Shirley said with her same vacant and soft voice. Without any delicacy or sexual teasing, Shirley peeled up Michelle's sweatshirt and stroked the heavy and swollen breasts. Michelle didn't fight it. Her breasts started leaking immediately, and the relief was too much for her. Shirley's fingers were cold and firm, but the way they pinched Michelle's nipples was perfect.

"You've done this before," Michelle said through breathy moans as she writhed under the tiny woman.

Shirley said nothing. When she got the Milk flowing, she stood up and turned to Vicki. "I need to shower now." Her clothes and hands were soaked with Michelle's Milk, and she looked at it as though it was radioactive.

"Of course," Vicki said. "Tell your sister and the other cows we may be stopping by. I want to give Michelle the tour."

"Yes, Mrs. Wasserman." Shirley rushed out of the room, leaving Michelle to catch her breath on the couch while the Milk kept flowing against her wishes. She closed her eyes and tried to fight the urge to scoop it up with her fingers and drink it. She fought the urge to slide her hand between her legs and use the Milk as lube as she'd seen in the Barn. She'd done worse in front of Mrs. Wasserman, and the images she'd seen in the barn returned to her.

Only the clicking of Vicki's approaching heels could help sober her mind.

"Here," Vicki said, handing Michelle her coffee. "Drink. Now."

"Yes, Mrs. Wasserman," Michelle found herself saying. She sat up, grabbed her coffee, and squirted into the cup before drinking it all quickly. "Fuck," she sighed as the buttery goodness melted her free will and resistance. Without being asked, she sank off the couch and onto her knees by Vicki Wasserman, assuming her place in the world.

"Yes," Vicki said. "Fuck indeed." She reached out and ran her hand through Michelle's hair like a favorite pet. "It's a drug, yes. And it's magic. It's both. And maybe I can market it as a new magic medicine -- we're looking into it. We're looking into a lot of things. Why else do you think I married Eloise?"

Michelle said nothing. As the Milk flowed through her system, it softened her mind. It wasn't her place to ask questions. It was her place to be on her knees and what for whatever amused Mrs. Wasserman.

Or Milk. Michelle reached a hand under her shirt and ran it over her sticky breast. Milk was her other purpose in life.

"Stop that," Vicki said. She slapped Michelle's head, and the cow pulled her hand out of her shirt.

"Yes, Mrs. Wasserman," she said. The pain brought some clarity. Vicki married Eloise for her connections and apparent rise in Thatcher Dynamics. That was clear now. Eloise could be CEO in a decade or two of one of the largest companies in the country. With her, their production and distribution of Milk would be unparalleled. Besides that, they could put the Milk through all kinds of research and development, making new products from it.

"Good," Vicki said. "Now, I need to show you around and get back to Eloise before I blow my brains out from boredom." Vicki snapped as she walked away from Michelle, going back to the front room where Michelle had met Hank and the rows of his family pictures -- the part of the house that definitely did not feel like a brothel.

Hank was waiting for them. "Hello, heartless bitch," he said as Vicki stepped into the foyer.

"Hello, useless cunt," Vicki said back with a grin. "How's the night?"

"Besides the uproar cow number nine here caused with two bottles of Milk for the girls?"

Vicki looked up the huge staircase that rose in the middle of the room up to the third floor of the house. "It's good for them -- and the product. Gets the juices flowing. That's what the customers want."

"Sure, though I'd rather not bang some broad and have her squirt all over me."

"Would you prefer some stud squirting over you?" Vicki said without looking at her ex-husband.

"Fuck you."

"You wish."

Hank shook his head. "It's just not my fetish, you know?"

"Nor mine, but it makes us both a great deal of money, doesn't it?"

"That's true, Vi -- I mean, uh, Mrs. Wasserman."

Vicki turned to face Hank. She leaned close and whispered. "You know, we're looking at something for addictive cum. Would you like to be a test subject?"

Hank shook his head. "No thanks."

Vicki leaned in closer, almost as though she was going to kiss him. "Have girls clawing at your cock, begging to drain it dry?"

Hank didn't look bothered. "I bet it works both ways, right? Just like the Milk. I'll be an addict and a supplier."

Vicki's lips hovered over Hank's ears. "Would that be so bad? Don't think I don't know your fantasies. You'd make a cute cocksucker, and I'd love to see that stupid fucking mustache coated with cum."

Michelle waited for another retort from Hank, but he had nothing. He simply stood there and shivered, and Michelle couldn't ignore the huge erection desperate to be free from his pants. Vicki owned him like everyone else. There was no escaping her. Even Eloise's bitchiness seemed to diminish around Vicki.

"Who is free?" Vicki said as she pulled away.

"No one," Hank said. "And I don't think they'd let their rooms be empty for five minutes. Like I said, they're all riled up."

"Then we're going to security. I want one girl free before the night ends."

"Yeah, sure thing, um, Mrs. Wasserman."

Vicki casually reached out and patted Hank's erection like it was an adorable pet. "Good boy."

Hank shivered, and Michelle mimicked him. Did Vicki make everyone feel like a pathetic cow? Was she God? Michelle had never been a religious woman, but this felt like the fear and awe she read about in the Bible whenever God or an angel appeared.

"Tatiana seemed real interested in your new girl," Hank said. His voice was soft. "And she's been burning through her clientele tonight. I'll find a spot for you with her."

Michelle's mind instantly conjured an image of the curvy redhead with fiery hair, pale skin, freckles, and cruel features. Tatiana was like a heartless Celtic queen that Michelle absolutely wanted to bend the knee for. She'd bend anything for a few minutes alone with her, and then she'd --

She didn't know. Michelle wasn't gay. She wasn't bi. She'd always been married to James, always felt attracted to him until he grew boring and useless. Yes, she'd been subjected to sexual humiliation with the Wassermans, but the key word to her was humiliation. It was all for the Milk. All about the Milk. Even when they tricked or forced her to lick their pussies, it was to humiliate her. It wouldn't be humiliating if she liked it. Nothing about their bodies aroused her. Just the shame. Only the shame aroused her.

Until Tatiana.

It had been a quick and effortless kiss, but it had lingered on Michelle's lips. What would she give to have another one? To try it one more time and be a bit less surprised, to participate with the redhead instead of standing in shock? What else would she do with the big breasted ginger? Yes, Milk. They would drink and drink of each other, but could there be something else? Was there more that Michelle wanted than Milk?

"Come," Vicki said with another snap of her fingers. The sound killed Michelle's reverie and the loyal cow followed Mrs. Wasserman around the staircase to another side room on the first floor. She expected to step into another mockery of a family room in this quant suburban house, but instead she was greeted by a bank of computer monitors and two men in suits sipping coffee while they watched the camera feeds from each of the cows' rooms. The room must be soundproof because a chorus of moaning and the slapping of skin on skin as meat pounded flesh washed over them. The high-pitched squeal of a woman close to orgasm was matched with the throaty roar of a man cumming inside her.

"Fuck, Howard," Vicki said with a groan, "turn off the goddamn sound."

One of the guards -- a bald one with veins rippling through his thick neck -- sat up abruptly and cut off the sounds, silencing the moans of the brothel. "Shit," he said, "I mean, Mrs. Wasserman. Uh, fuck, sorry."

Vicki turned to the other guard. "Was this him or you?"

The other guard, a dark-skinned black man with a beautiful and large afro, said, "Him," before taking a long sip of coffee.

"You're fired, Howard. I'll be filing a sexual harassment suit against you if you ever break your NDA." She pointed up to the corner of the room where a security camera was watching the security room. "Don't think I won't."