Milked by My Bull

It was 14 weeks after giving birth to my first baby that I made a long awaited return to my bull. We had taken a break for most of my pregnancy and I had really been missing my time with him.

My Husband and I had advertised in the usual places for a regular partner for me after one too many disappointing hook ups. Greg was the outstanding respondent. A college lecturer in his mid forties, he was originally from the Highlands and spoke with the most mellifluous Scottish baritone. Fair haired with a neatly trimmed beard and strong blue eyes, Greg was a physically imposing specimen. Tall and thick-set, He was a competition road racer with powerful cyclist's thighs that I could barely fit my hands around.

His glorious cock was in proportion to his large frame but his balls! Oh my God, they were huge, like Quail's eggs. His sack could've been grafted from a horny Ram. The embodiment of his manliness, virility and sexual potency.

It wasn't just his physicality that was a turn on though. Greg was naturally dominant and assertive but could also be charming, courteous and caring too. I felt cosseted and protected when I was with him. I was so excited to be his slut.

Although he always insisted on taking me bareback, Greg had not fathered my baby. Neither however had my Husband. That's a story for another day though.

The weekend away at Greg's place was something of a "push present". My lovely husband took the Friday off work to look after my baby and allow me to get ready. They were going to visit his Parents so I knew my Mother in Law would take good care of them both. My frenemy Justine got a new Audi after giving birth but for me, two nights under my bull was the most thoughtful and generous gift I could have asked for.

It was one of those beautiful sunny afternoons we sometimes get in early May. I picked out a little flower print cotton dress, paired it with mid-heeled tan sandals and not much else. I always enjoy the freedom of going braless. Besides, all my pretty ones were now too small for me.

When the taxi arrived to take me to the train station, my Husband knelt to fasten my anklet then reached up under my dress, symbolically slipped my knickers off then kissed me goodbye.

I started to get properly excited on the hour or so long train journey. The heavy steel collar Greg presented me with on completion of my training was safely stashed in my overnight bag. The memories of what I'd done to earn it had me wet before we reached Oldham.

When I arrived at Greg's flat he had bought a lovely gift for my little boy and a bottle of bubbles. We wet the baby's head and were soon having a lovely kiss and a cuddle on his sofa. I'd been so looking forward to being in his strong arms again but also, to be frank, to getting seriously fucked.

As heavy as the petting got however Greg was resolutely refraining from making the decisive move. Our dates had often involved a theme, some form of role play or dress up and always a thrilling Sub/Dom power imbalance. My obvious desperation meant that dynamic developed quite organically on this occasion. Stroking his dick through his jeans I eventually pleaded, "Please?" looking up at him with pathetically doe eyes.

Greg smirked like he'd won then masterfully instructed me to stand and undress. I bounced up and gleefully obeyed, methodically undoing the buttons down the front of my dress before letting it slip to the floor. I kicked it aside leaving me standing naked in just my heels and "SLUT" anklet.

He shook his head disapprovingly.

"No underwear?"

I loved this game.

"No Sir" I replied with faux shame.

I was freshly shaven and felt exquisitely exposed to his gaze. My labia had been stretched during the birth and were now a little longer and more ragged. Although my pussy wasn't quite as neat as it had been, I was really quite proud of my new lippier look.

"Inspection position" He ordered.

His authoritative tone of voice sent a delicious shiver through my naked body instantly crimping my nipples.

I spread my legs wider and placed my hands behind my head.

Greg raised himself from the sofa and, towering over me, fastened my collar before slowly walking around me.

"Bend at the waist"

"Sir"

I did as I was told, sticking my backside out.

Master reached between my legs, took hold of my inner lips and gave them a firm tug.

"What happened here?" he inquired disdainfully, as if I'd presented him with some shoddy homework.

"My baby Sir, he was nearly 10 pounds" I answered apologetically.

He flicked dismissively at my poor labia but didn't remark further.

"Kneel" he commanded.

"Thank you Sir" I responded humbly.

As he'd trained me to, I knelt at his feet with the palms of my hands upturned, tilted my head back and opened my mouth. Greg unbuttoned his jeans and placed himself in my eager mouth. He wasn't fully erect but as I hungrily sucked, licked and generally worshiped his manhood it was soon rock hard. He took my head in his hands and pushed his knob to the back of my throat, holding it there until I gagged. I gasped for air when he took it out.

He snapped his fingers and pointed to the large chesterfield footstool in the corner of the lounge that he'd used me on before.

I nodded willingly, raised myself on shaky legs like a baby giraffe and teetered precariously in my heels over to where he'd indicated. The old leather footstool was solid and heavy. I struggled inelegantly to pull and shove it to the centre of the room. All fleshy, wobbly ass and jiggly tits.

"Table" he ordered and motioned for me to assume the position on the stool.

I thanked him obediently and knelt on all fours excitedly expecting to be mounted.

His hand stroked my bare buttocks before his fingers found my smooth slit. His touch was light, delicate even. Grazing the sensitive skin of my sex giving me goose flesh and tightening that lovely knot of of anticipation in my stomach. Parting my lips, he dipped the tip of his index finger into my needy hole to wet it before easing the hood of my clit back with his thumb. Using my own juices as lube he lightly circled the swollen bud with his finger tip. I bit my bottom lip trying hard not to moan.

"Why are you so wet you dirty bitch?" He enquired incredulously.

"I'm excited for your cock Sir"

My reply required no acting talent whatsoever.

"What makes you think you've earned that privilege?" he asked rhetorically.

My heart sank a little because I knew from experience that that meant I'd have to be patient, not a virtue I'm blessed with at the best of times, but it also meant he intended to play with me which was an altogether different sort of treat.

He knelt behind me, unceremoniously pulled my ass cheeks wide open and started to greedily eat me out. His tongue flicked and probed and he snuffled loudly like a big boar snouting for truffles. I can't resist being spread like that and when he started to suck on my clit I soon asked his permission to cum.

I was denied and felt the hard, sharp sting of his hefty right hand for having the temerity to ask. I yelped in pain. It hurt more than enough to quell my nascent climax. I felt the heat radiate across my buttock and the very real submissive humiliation my husband could never provide.

Graciously giving me a chance to recover, Greg stood back to regard my body and the other changes my pregnancy had brought.

"Your tits are bigger, aren't they Slut"

"Yes, Sir, thank you Sir"

I'd hoped he'd notice and I really loved it when he called me that.

"Are you breastfeeding?"

"Not really Sir, I'm trying but can't get the hang of it. He's mostly bottle fed"

My breasts were swollen and a little tender. I couldn't wait for them to get back to normal.

He laughed cruelly, "Nonsense, look at those lovely big udders," He said patting my dangling tit. "you're full of milk"

Now, I was aware that Greg had grown up on a smallholding in the middle of nowhere and that his Dad had kept goats. Milking them had been Greg's responsibility. I knew precisely what he was proposing.

"No Greg, please don't." My embarrassment caused me to break character. I'd been made to feel inadequate for not feeding my baby and didn't want him to see me fail that way.

I took another hard sharp slap on the bottom for my boldness. I was collared and by the very nature of our relationship he didn't need my permission and I owed him my compliance. He would allow no further protest.

Greg knelt beside me and, with his thumb and forefinger, took a firm hold of my left breast just above the nipple. He began to squeeze and pull in a slow rhythmic motion.

"Yes," he observed confidently, "should be just the same."

With his free hand he gently stroked my backside and made comforting sounds.

"Shh, just relax, let's see if we can sort you out, good girl, goood girl"

It was patronising and demeaning and for once I really wasn't enjoying it. That was exactly what he intended though, it was a power move meant to humiliate and degrade the haughty posh girl.

"That's it, easy now" the sing song tone of his voice intended to soothe and calm.

Fighting back my irritation and frustration I closed my eyes and tried to just relax and go with it. I actually really just needed him to fuck me. It had been the longest I'd ever gone without and I had a very real physical yearning to get his cock inside me.

However, to get what I wanted I'd have to play the game. I'd have to do my best to please him. I thought back to my anti-natal classes. Stimulation would lead quite naturally to the let down reflex. I'd never been able to get my baby to latch properly so I'd never experienced a proper let down.

Greg moved his hand from my backside to my hairless quim. Strumming it softly to help relax me while squeezing and pulling my swollen teat. My breathing gradually became slower and deeper as I focused on the sensations and the calming cadence of his lovely deep Scots tones.

"That's the girl, good girl, there there, it's all alright"

There was just something about Greg, his presence, confidence, charisma. Whatever it was it was working. Helping me to properly submit to him. I let go of my inhibitions, finally completely giving myself over to my Master.

I was being milked as he'd milked countless nanny goats on his boyhood farm. In that moment I was just another female mammal in need of manipulation. That realisation and acceptance was intensely liberating. I felt my body go limp as every muscle began to unwind. Greg's left hand worked my tit while his right attended to my pussy. In time, the relentless stimulation and arousal left me moaning and mewing quite pitifully as I craved release. Greg, feeling my climax building again, knew I was ready.

"Easy girl, easy now, not just yet,"

He let go of my breast and stroked my hair. "I think you need your cock now, don't you?"

I hung my head in relief.

"Oh yes, oh yes please Sir"

He stood to undress behind me. My expectant sex gaped, sopping wet as I breathlessly awaited his pleasure. My plump breasts hung heavily, the worked nipple throbbed dark and distended.

Looking back over my shoulder I saw my manly big bull fully erect, his magnificent prick projecting out like a flag staff. I watched enraptured as he pulled back his foreskin exposing the bulbous, glistening purple gland that crowded his thick, veiny shaft. It was both an intimidating and thrilling sight.

He slapped my arse, squatted and carefully positioned himself. I felt the heat of his knob as it nudged against my cock hole. Greg put his shovel like hands on my slender shoulders and, in one fluid motion, eased his full length up my grateful, pliant cunt.

I gave a low moan of relief and satisfaction as I took my first cock in what had seemed like forever.

"There, that's a good Slut, you needed that didn't you"

Luxuriating in the feeling of fullness and acclimatising to the girth of what he'd inserted into me, I could only groan in the affirmative and nod my appreciation.

I looked back between my legs to see the taught muscles in his thick, powerful thighs. Those thrilling big balls swinging pendulously like lead clock weights. Grabbing a handful of my hair he let me enjoy a few long, slow, deep strokes before going balls deep in me and taking a firm hold of both tits. Alternately squeezing and pulling on my teats, tugging on them really quite hard to stimulate my milk ducts.

"Good girl, that's the girl" the same phrases hypnotically, over and over.

I squeezed tightly, my devotion to Kegel exercises paying off as my cunt muscles gripped his thick shaft. "Oh Jesus Christ I've missed this" I thought.

Squeeze and pull, squeeze and pull. Firmly, rhythmically, purposefully. Again and again. Hunched over me like a jockey he began to pump his hips in sync, riding me at an easy, metronomic trot. His cock found the perfect angle to stimulate my aching clit.

The variety of involuntary sounds wrought from me as all this was happening reflected my level of arousal and conflicting emotions. Moans of pleasure, grunts of animal lust, yelps of delight, question inflected whimpers of disbelief. Communicating my responses not only to my Master but more than likely to his elderly neighbours too.

Thick blue veins appeared in my breasts as blood pumped in ever greater volume to my nerve endings. My nipples started to tingle, a warm sensation spread through my swollen tits. It was my let down reflex.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" I panicked, my body completely out of control.

"Here it comes, good girl, that's a good good girl, just let it flow"

My senses became overwhelmed, I started to cum on his cock, wailing hysterically as I my body spasmed and bucked.

"Go on girl, go on!" Greg enthusiastically cheered me on while fighting to keep hold and stay inside me as I writhed and squirmed beneath him.

My tits pulsated in time with Greg's milking motion and, as my hips bucked and cunt twitched, I suddenly squirted milk from my left teat. It splashed noisily onto the leather stool. Jets of it sprayed from the tiny milk duct holes in my nipple. It was spattering everywhere, again and again as he kept up the same unremitting rhythm, squeezing and pulling, squeezing and pulling.

I groaned half degraded, half delighted, "oh my god...you're milking me, you're milking me!...oh fuck"

It did feel amazing though, my whole body tingled as an enormous sense of wellbeing flooded over me. Then my right teat started lactating too, spraying out more of my creamy goodness.

My milk, my breast milk pooled in the button holes of the stool, spilled over the edge and trickled down the side before forming foamy puddles on the antique oak laminate flooring. I looked on in disbelief, having something of an out of body experience.

I was a happily married, successful respected professional woman, a new Mother. Graduate in Law, former deputy head girl of an expensive ladies college, I got straight A's at A level and was captain of our award winning debating team! But there I was at the age of 34, kneeling naked on a foot stool, in a little rented flat in a Manchester suburb, milked like a farm animal, squired by a Sociology lecturer twelve years my senior who I'd met through an advert on an internet forum.

I started to cry. Postpartum hormones, exhaustion, the intensity of what I was experiencing, realising how lucky I was to have all of that I had. I sobbed gently in blissful contentment as Greg's cock gently reamed my cunt while he continuing to milk me.

"There there girl, you're alright. Good girl. Look at you and your lovely milky tits. You've done so well! Who's a clever girl then eh?"

I blubbed, sniffed and nodded my head appreciatively in response to his praise. And I don't think I'd ever felt more feminine or been happier or more content.