Milk Run

Betty awakened even without her alarm clock going off. Her body had learned a diurnal rhythm of her habits. She'd slept in the nude, as was usual on warm nights, so she only had to pull off her covers to stand up and head to the bathroom. Still groggy, she peed, leaning forward to ease the pressure of her breasts which were aching slightly, heavy on her chest. Wiping and flushing, she returned to her bedroom, opened a dresser drawer, and pulled out some skimpy, pale blue panties. Stepping into them, she went to her closet, scanning her dresses on their hangers. Selecting one that she felt went with the panties, she slipped it on. Since the day was predicted to be clear and warm, she'd chosen a simple summer shift dress. This dress was held up in place by simply tying its top 2 cloth strips together at the nape of her neck.

Like an undeniable craving, her need to begin driving was building, so she got a bottle of water and left her house. Out in the darkness, she went to her car, and began driving in the gentle predawn sky illumination. The route was familiar, so she began sipping from the water bottle to hydrate herself. She had the windows open enough to let in fresh air, with the scent of green, growing things. The road was virtually deserted at that time of day, giving her a quiet time to reflect. For only the umpteenth time, she asked herself, "How can I both loathe what's compelling me, and yet also find pleasure in it?" As usual, there was no clear answer, but the butterflies were stirring in her tummy. That didn't stop the question from echoing in her mind as she drove along the road, her car seeming to chase the illumination of her high beam headlamps, and never catching them.

Approaching the farm, she turned in and drove down its long driveway, listening to the gravel crunching under her car tires. The air entering the car altered subtly, since this was a working farm. Her normal spot near the barn wasn't occupied, so she was able to park there. That was one advantage of getting there very early -- it also freed the rest of her day to other pursuits. Taking a final drink of water, she stepped out of the car, and headed inside the barn, to be greeted by the pleasant familiar scent of hay and straw.

The farmer heard the sound of a car and peered out of his kitchen window. He smiled as he recognized Betty in the car. Glancing at the clock, he noted the time. "Hmmm, she's a little early -- she either couldn't sleep well, or she's very anxious." He watched her stepping out of the car, dressed simply, as she was expected to do. The cool morning air, which was still slightly misty, must've been a sharp contrast to the warmth she'd felt inside her car. Seeing her shiver a little as the totality of her body felt the touch of the cold air, he grinned. Instead of rushing out to attend to her, he settled back to finish his coffee -- confident that she knew what to do. "Besides, she'll get warm again inside the barn," he murmured.

Indeed, the barn's protective warmth enveloped Betty as soon as she closed the door behind herself. She crossed the barn floor and faced the sturdy device. She couldn't help but study it with a mixture of revulsion and fascination. "Such a simple construction," she stated. It consisted of two vertical poles, spaced maybe 5 or 6 feet apart, with two horizontal poles bolted between them. One pole was approximately at the height of her waist, the other at the height of her shoulders if she stooped forward a little.

Almost in a trance or a daydream, she walked around behind the apparatus and then stepped forward until her lower body pressed against the bottom bar. Turning her torso toward the left, she reached up with both arms to the handcuff, fixed to the area where the upper pole joined the left upright. Using her right hand, she closed the handcuff around her left wrist, listening and feeling it's familiar ratcheting sounds and vibrations as it secured her wrist there. Now, lacking a key, she was caught until someone released her. She braced her free hand on the bottom bar, and waited, soon shifting from one foot to the other and back, a little impatiently. As soon as she'd closed the cuff, her heart had accelerated. She had to take deeper breaths to keep up with the faster pumping of her blood, which made her breasts rise and fall very fetchingly, but unfortunately there was no one there to appreciate it.

Five or ten minutes passed before the farmer sauntered in and stepped behind her. Soundlessly, he took hold of her free hand and locked it to the other handcuff on the upper right, restraining her arms fully. Not bothering to make conversation, or even eye contact, he walked in front of her. The particular placement of the two handcuffs, when both were secured, made Betty lean her upper torso forward under the upper bar. For stability, she gripped that upper bar with each hand, and rested the cool metal across the tops of her shoulder blades, which were bare since the shift dress was backless. He stooped down and grasped first one of her ankles, and then the other, securing them with leather cuffs to the bases of the vertical bars. This kept her thighs and lower legs well apart, but comfortably. Having all of her limbs immobilized, Betty mentally sank slowly into a more submissive state.

Her pose exposed the nape of her neck in front of the upper bar, so the farmer easily undid the tied top of her dress and yanked down the front of it, leaving the front of her upper body bare to below her navel. Betty knew he was going to do that, but it still sent a rush of humiliation at having her breasts so casually exposed to this virtual stranger. He'd never tried to get to know her, or share anything personal about his life. He treated her like an obedient animal. One that could be trusted to show up for a daily milking. Taking a bucket and a sponge, he washed her udders and teats impersonally but thoroughly, and wiped them dry with a rough towel.

Next, he scooped up a small amount of lubricant and began smearing it on the warm flesh of her breasts -- her udders, as he thought of them. She skittered in place at this touch of his hands to her exposed flesh. "Hooo, Bessie... steady now girl," he crooned. "We need to make the milkers get a firm seal on your teats, you know, my girl. We've done this many times." He knew her name was Betty, but he felt that Bessie was a better name for a milk cow, so that is what he called her. Besides, each time he did, she flushed with humiliation, hearing that name, and that fact that he used the word 'teats' rather than nipples. At this point, every time he added this lubricant, he seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time applying it to her areolae and nipples, rubbing it in, over and over. The stimulation built and built, until she could not suppress a moan, and her pussy dampened. She became aware of a new scent -- a slightly musky one -- blending with those of the hay and straw.

Now the farmer turned on his special milker which only had two tubes. The motor made that familiar 'suck... release' sound that made her wetness increase, just from hearing it. He tugged one of her teats downward, making her dangling breast flesh a little more cone shaped and then brought the mouth of the milker tube toward it. She could feel the air moving from its suction as it neared her breast. Like a hungry calf, it latched on to her nipple and areola and began a powerful sucking action. This was painful at first, since her milk hadn't started to let down yet. It was as if the hungry mouth of the milker tube was angry that she was not feeding it, so it sucked even harder, in a demanding fashion. Her body involuntarily pulled at the unyielding restraints as she felt that sensation.

Betty was so focused on that painful sucking that she barely noticed the farmer tugging at her other teat. But when the second milker latched on and started its powerful sucking, she groaned loudly and once again squirmed in the restraints from the added pain. "Why, oh why do I do this?" she thought. "Once again, I can't move my wrists and my ankles to escape this device. This guy calls me Bessie, and acts like he owns my tits. And the incessant sucking actions caused by that machine hurt!" Another loud, long groan erupted from her lips. And the farmer smiled at her discomfort.

After a minute or two, blissfully, Betty's milk started to flow. This felt so good compared to the pre-flow suction that she moaned with pleasure. Milk started being whisked away into the machine's receiving bottle. The farmer grinned at both the appearance of the milk and the woman's sound. Of course, he thought of her more like a milk cow than a human, but that didn't prevent him from moving behind her after watching the flow for a minute or two. Once he was back there, he flipped the hem of her dress up onto her sloped back, exposing her panties.

Betty felt the movement of her dress and blushed and shivered in anticipation. The milkers were still sucking at her nipples as she felt the farmer seize the waistband of her panties, and roughly yank them down as far as her spread knees would allow them to go. Now her butt was completely bare, and the position of her body exposed both her butt hole and her wet pussy. Knowing that he could see her intimate area like this, she flushed in mortification, but the mortification triggered something inside her that created a submissive excitement. The excitement transformed into arousal, as the farmer ran his rough hands possessively over her wet labia and the furrow between them. More of her scent was released, becoming almost as pervasive as the hay/straw scents.

Barely audible over the noises of the milking machine, she was dimly aware of a rustle of clothing. The farmer was pulling his pants down enough to free his cock and balls. His erection sprang up and slapped against the back of one of her thighs. She felt one of his hands reaching under her and spreading open her labia. The air of the barn washed over the opening of her wet, churning tunnel. But for only a moment. The bulbous head of the farmer's cock sealed that opening as it made contact with her hot, smooth flesh. Moments later, Betty made an inarticulate sound and rose onto her toes as his fat prick shoved its way inward, its penetration stretching and filling her. When his balls touched her body, he pulled back and started pumping in and out.

Grabbing her hips to steady her, his thrusts became a little more controlled. He gave no heed to her pleasure -- this was for his enjoyment. His first fuck of the morning was always the best one, helping him utilize his morning stiffie to drain some semen from his heavy balls. He had to admit, though, that Bessie was one of his best cows when it came to fucking. Her cunt muscles usually had a rippling rhythm that seemed to suck at his cock. So as he was milking her, she in turn was subconsciously milking him. And if her rippling slowed down too much, he only had to give her butt cheek a stinging swat to speed her back up.

Enjoying the sensations of a slow fuck for 5 minutes or so, his need to cum was building. Letting go of her hips, he grabbed the lower bar on either side of her hips for leverage, and hammered his pelvis against her buttocks. Very quickly, he could feel his ball sack starting to contract, indicating he was getting close. He was now fucking her so hard and deep that his cock bottomed out with each thrust, and his balls nudged against her warm body. Meanwhile, Betty was working her way toward her own orgasm. She couldn't move much, because his pulling arms and hard pushes were pressing her pelvis against the lower bar. But she could minutely tilt her pelvis, seeking the angle for maximum stimulation, and finding it. A feeling like a warm ball of energy was blossoming in her core!

As his body signaled his impending ejaculation, the farmer used one hand to grab Betty's hair, and pull her head back, exerting his control over her. Shoving his cock as deep as he could into the warm, wet sheath of her pussy, he held it there as it began to spurt. Sticky white rope after rope of his hot semen spewed into her depths. Since the volume of his cock virtually plugged her rippling tunnel, his semen oozed and seeped into her womb, and his sperm awakened and started swimming in her depths. The combination of the farmer's hand yanking her hair, the jerking pulsations of his cock as he came, and the warm sensation of his seed flowing in her finally triggered Betty's own climax. She uttered sounds or words that neither of them paid any attention to as she came hard on his cock, her muscles bunching as they contracted against the restraints.

After some time period that went by unnoticed, the sweaty copulation came to its conclusion as the farmer's cock softened, and was ultimately pushed out by her internal muscles. Smiling in post-orgasmic relief, he let go of her hair and the bar and stepped back. He pulled his own clothing back into place, but left Bessie as she was, her ass lewdly on display, and her bared teats still yielding her milk to the suckling of the milking machine. He quietly left the barn. Betty was too caught up in unfocused bliss to be aware he'd even left.

After a while, she snapped back into awareness of her surroundings when the barn door opened, and she heard the farmer say, "This way, Sven. You may as well understand that we get up early, and how we take care of our livestock." Betty's mortification hit a new record high as she saw a young man follow the farmer into the barn. He looked to be about 19 or 20 years old, and she saw his eyes dilate in surprise to see her caught on the milking apparatus. His eyes darted up and down the exposed front of her body.

Sven said, "You sure know how to wake a guy up, Uncle!" His eyes had a hard time looking away from the milking tubes sucking away at her tits. Betty wasn't even certain that the young man was even aware of the sucking tubes -- he seemed to be mostly looking at the tit flesh not concealed by the tubes.

The farmer grinned. "Yes, this is Bessie, and she's a fine specimen. I thought she'd be perfect to act as an introduction to what we do here." They walked closer.

Sven was finally looking at Betty's arms and legs. "Is she trapped on this thing, Uncle?" he asked.

"No, she's not trapped... she's restrained. You can see the cuffs on her wrists, and the leather cuffs on her ankles?" Sven nodded, owl-eyed. "Well, when Bessie enters the barn, she goes behind this device and then she herself secures the cuff on her left wrist. This signifies that she's placing herself here voluntarily. So she's not trapped at all. Then when I arrive I cuff her right wrist and the ankle cuffs, so we can proceed with the milking."

"OK, I think I can do that," Sven agreed. "What's next?"

"Then we bare her udders."

"Udders? You mean her breasts, Uncle?"

The farmer sighed softly. "Cows have udders, Nephew."

"OK, OK!" Sven exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender to the concept. "So we bare them... that sounds like fun, by the way," he grinned. Looking more at the restraints, he asked, "How?"

His Uncle lifted the two dangling ties from the top of her shift dress in illustration. "These are tied at the back of her neck to hold up the dress. We simply untie them, and pull down." Betty flushed a little, recalling that process of exposure, and imagining this young Sven doing it to her when she'd be helpless.

The farmer continued, "Then we sponge off the udders to make sure they are clean and dry them with a towel."

"Using a sponge and towel? So we don't actually touch her... udders, Uncle?"

"Not at that point," his Uncle confirmed. "But now we have to add the lubricant to the teats to ensure a good suction seal. We have to rub it in thoroughly and evenly, covering the whole area where the milkers latch on. And we start the pumps to attach the milkers and then watch that their milk starts to flow. If you'd been awake earlier, you could have seen all this. Bessie here gets here really early for her servicing."

"And that's it, Uncle? We use lubricant to feel up their.... teats... a little and then machine milk them?"

"No Sven... they give better milk if they are bred regularly, too."

"Bred?" he looked at Betty's body on display, noting how her dress was flipped up in the back, and for the first time became aware that her panties were down at her knees. "You mean fucked?"

"OK.. fucked, if you want to use that term," his Uncle relented.

Sven's eyes widened in surprise. "So... I could do that to Bessie... right now?"

"Sure, if you don't mind sloppy seconds, boy."

Sven eagerly began opening his pants as he moved around to the back of the device. Betty was able to watch him most of the way, finally looking over her shoulder as he paused behind her. Her mind was having a difficult time processing the fact that the farmer was so nonchalant about giving his nephew permission to use her. He really was treating her as if she was his farm animal, so it made no difference if Sven used her as well. Somehow that made the potential coupling with the young man more naughty or forbidden, and therefore very arousing. Since he was also a lustful, horny young man currently endowed with a raging erection, that raised her arousal to a fever pitch. She bit her lip, and faced forward again, anticipating.

Sven put his hands on her hips, possessively. Her flesh quivered reflexively under his touch, as she was acutely aware that he was now staring at her intimate area -- a place that only a couple of people had ever seen. She flushed with delicious humiliation. But his next words caused her a little consternation.

"Hey, Uncle! I can see both her holes very nicely on display and available. Any problem with me using either one?"

His Uncle grinned at the impetuous youth. "You can use either hole, but your semen must be pumped into her cunt."

Hearing that, Betty tensed up a little. She was not a complete stranger to anal sex, although the farmer had never fucked that opening. But what if this callow youth was bad at it? However, a few seconds later she felt his hot hard cock rubbing along her furrow, and then changing its angle to slip into her cum coated pussy. The sensation of being stretched and filled by his firmness made her sigh, since it seemed he'd chosen her pussy. However, moments later she felt his fingers whispering along her dripping folds near his cock. The reason for this became apparent when he used those fingers to smear slipperiness around, on and then into her butt hole. As his finger penetrated that seemingly tiny puckered opening, Betty groaned and felt her butt trying to expel the invader. She knew she'd lose this battle, so she bore down on certain internal muscles that would compel her sphincter muscle to relax. She smiled mentally as it worked, allowing Sven to add a second and a third finger, dilating her well.

Feeling that he'd lubed and loosened her anal ring enough, the young man slid his rigid cock, now coated with her pussy juices and probably some of his Uncle's cum, out of her pussy. He grabbed his cock in his right hand to both stabilize and aim his shaft while he wrapped his left arm around her lower tummy to brace her. He was moving quickly and efficiently, because he wanted to plant the head of his cock in her anal opening before the dilation created by his fingers vanished.

He succeeded.

He got the head of his cock wedged into her opening almost to its crown. Her anal ring was starting to tighten, and his forward pressure was opposing that as he tried to get the crown of his cock to pass through that ring and claim her naughty hole. Betty gasped loudly as the head of his cock finally penetrated her anal ring, which now closed on the shaft of the cock. Her eyes dilated and her gasp became a hiss of pleasure as the entire length of his cock sank into her depths. "God, Uncle... she's really tight back here," Sven informed him. His Uncle just laughed.