My Slut Wife Life Ch. 04

It was during that water break that I first heard it. "Moooooo-ooooooo. Mooooooooo." It repeated a few more times. I sat on my haunches and listened carefully. It sounded human. It sounded muffled. It sounded like it was coming from the shed. Over and over it echoed from the shed. Sometimes three short ones in a row. Sometimes one long one, almost sounding anguished.

Finally the shed door opened and the two men came out, smiling and laughing. Behind them, on all fours, Jeremy's wife shuffled out. She was as naked as I was, with a collar on her neck but no leash. Her face was flushed and her long hair was plastered to her neck and shoulders, almost as if she'd been doused with a bucket of water. Even though she moved slowly, her breasts swung and swayed below her. Her tits are technically the same size as mine, though they sag more. Now they looked like half empty sacks hanging off an aging cow. As she turned to follow the men's meandering path, I saw that she had something shoved in her ass. A buttplug. No wonder she was going so slow.

When she turned back again, our eyes met. Then she did something completely unexpected. She mouthed something at me, and then smiled evilly. It looked just like "You're next."

Jeremy and my owner shook hands and I quickly got back to work, only looking up when he stood directly in front of me. "The rest is gonna have to wait for another time," he announced, speaking above my head. "There's something I want to try. And you're gonna want to see it too." I thought about mooing in the tone of a question, but quickly decided against it. Whatever was in that shed could take a serious toll on a person. Jeremy's wife was proof of that.

He detached the chain and reattached the leash, then led me, still crawling on my hands and knees, to the entrance of the shed. Inside, the wooden floor was covered in straw, dirt and dust. And in the middle of the room was a framework of iron pipes and hoses, the purpose of which I was completely unable to fathom.

"Kiss my feet, Betsie," he ordered, and I immediately dropped down on my forearms to put my lips within reach. He was wearing sandals, but I found enough bare skin to touch with my lips, kissing his feet firmly and loudly, as he'd trained me to do. It was one of his rituals, and I'd learned the hard way that the difference between a hard training lesson and a bearable one could be in the way I completed a ritual. Besides, it seemed to make him so happy. And I wanted to make him happy.

"Well, you're an OK cow. Or hucow, as others have named your kind," he said as I worshipped at his feet. "You have good udders, fine teats and a delicious looking rump. You're mooing is starting to sound realistic, and when you're drinking water from your trough, you're not spilling too much. So there's only one thing left to do. It's time to milk you."

Milk? Me? I was immediately confused. Even he had to know that childbearing was what released the hormones needed to produce breast milk. He ought to know. We had two kids, and he'd lived through the birth of both of them. So milking was a physical impossibility.

"Don't worry," he said in bemusement. "I haven't lost my mind. Well, not completely. You'll understand better once we have you strapped in."

And that's exactly what he did. Strap me in, I mean. With his help, I climbed inside the network of pipes and hoses and found that there was a spot for me to perch, on a slight angle, with my butt supported by a pipe at the end, and another set of pipes that went crosswise, supporting me both below and above my breasts. My wrists got strapped to another set of pipes, and my legs were kept apart and supported by yet another set of pipes. It was like being strapped in place inside a cage, but with my tits hanging out underneath. Oddly, it wasn't all that uncomfortable.

What came next made up for that lack of discomfort. He dragged over what I immediately recognized as a milking machine. Not the small hand-powered one that a lactating mother might use to express some milk. Not the industrial size one that big farm operations use. No, this was a smaller, more portable one. One that could milk about a dozen teats at a time. One that worked just as well as those big ones.

Why would I know so much about it? When you live out in the country, surrounded by open fields, there's always some fool who decides to raise their own food. I say fool, because until you decide to run a small farm and continue to have a full-time job, you have no idea what it's like to really work. So, having helped a neighbor or two with their mini-herd and farm chores, I've come to know quite a bit about the tools of the trade.

I was strapped in so tightly, there was no squirming out of the way once he greased up the suck tubes and bent to attach them to my breasts, surrounding my nipples and areola. The tubes themselves were about an inch in diameter, with rounded edges to keep from slicing into the skin. They weren't as wide as the ones normally used on cows, but then my breasts are a lot firmer than a real cow's udders.

The tubes adhered right away, held on by the strong vacuum effect. I squealed and immediately received a swat with the crop. He wanted me to moo, even when in pain. I mooed. It wasn't a steady sucking, either. A vacuum held them on, while a stronger vacuum pulsed slowly, milking each teat with an extra pull, alternating between the right and left. I closed my eyes, fighting back the humiliation. I was being milked like an animal!

It didn't take long for another kind of discomfort to take hold, wiping away any consternation I might have about my degrading position. I don't know about other women, but for me, my nipples are almost as sensitive and responsive as my clit. Under the right circumstances, when I've been stimulated between my legs, I can achieve orgasm by someone just sucking on my nipples. It's something my husband often takes advantage of; it's hard to object to a quickie when your breasts are on fire with desire.

Now, the incessant sucking on my nipples was turning my body into a live wire. Every stroke of the engine brought me a tiny bit closer to a precipice that I feared I'd never go over. Every tug on my nipple, every space between sucks, every small amount my breast flesh was pulled into the tube, was like a torture of pleasure. An overflow of stimulation. And another step in pulling me into his control.

I could've said no. Even at that stage, with the machine shuff, shuff, shuffing, the tubes quaking with the pressure, my breasts being milked like udders, my body firmly tied in place, the whole scene like one out of a medieval torture chamber, with me in the role of degraded prisoner, I could've said no. And he would've released me. And I would've stomped off in anger and disappointment. And he would've reasoned me into forgiving him. And our sex lives and marriage would've returned to the familiar placidity of how we'd been before the agreement.

And that's why I didn't protest. Even then. Even now. Because I'd begun to like and want the new him. As well as the us we were becoming. With more trust. More adventure. And a lot more pleasure and exhilaration and mystery.

I don't know how long I knelt there, mooing when the need arose to express my excitement or my pain. Panting as the milking machine tortured my breasts. Wincing as he randomly slapped my rump, tits, stomach, pussy and feet with that damned crop. And being taken to new levels of bliss and ecstasy all the while.

I'd almost forgotten where I was when he played the next card in his hand. With a flourish, he pulled a drape off what I had thought was a wall to reveal a mirror, stretching the whole length of the shed. I could now, cruelly, see exactly what I looked like. It wasn't a pleasing sight. While I didn't look exactly like a cow being milked, I looked enough like one to bring tears to my eyes. As before, though, that expression of disgust quickly gave way to pleasure as he touched a dial on the milker, increasing the rate of suction. I gasped, writhed and cried out over and over as the stimulation reverberated through me, in a sensation of pure pleasure that I'd never felt before. My hands curled involuntarily, the nails biting into my palms. I didn't even feel the pain, though, so thoroughly was the hedonistic thrill washing through me.

I'd almost reached that point, where you either go off or go numb, when he started fiddling around with something behind me. Suddenly, I felt something, not his cock, but some hard, thick object, forced into my tight, contracted cunt. It felt weird, misshapen, unnatural. I squealed at the pleasure, turning it into a moo when I realized what was coming out of my mouth. Then, unbelievably, the object began sliding in and out of my cunt. It was fucking me! Through the haze and buzzing in my brain, I followed the path of a tube from the milking machine, along the floor, and back to where it disappeared behind my ass. Then I realized what he'd done. I was being fucked by a dildo attached to the machine. And it was pistoning in and out of me as fast as the tubes were sucking on my tits.

He watched it work on me for a while, taking pictures and movies and generally acting like a teenager extremely pleased with his work. I was mooing, gasping and squealing almost continuously now, fucked in the cunt by a mechanical dildo and sucked on the tits by a mechanical milker. Sweat dripped from me, splattering on the floor. My body ached from the continual stimulation, craving release.

He touched the dial again and everything sped up. The timing of the suction torturing my tits. The speed of the dildo pounding my pussy. And the rasping of my breath as it roared in my ears. Finally, when I felt about to go mad with frustration, the dam broke. I screamed like a woman in a horror movie as the orgasm ripped through me, turning my insides to jelly and my cunt into a molten pool of steaming sauce. I squirted, I think, I must have, because there was suddenly water splashing all over the floor. I screamed and screamed until I was hoarse, cumming again and again and again, each new contraction of my pussy on that thing inside me causing another breaker to roll over and crash through me.

Finally, I sagged in the saddle. And mercifully, he turned off the milking machine. My nipples and tits were distended and flaming red when he removed the tubes. They hurt to touch or even when I moved. Not a pain, but a sting, like when you stub your toe and hobble for a bit. When he removed the dildo I was amazed at its size and girth. Was it supposed to represent a bull's cock? If so, I had been well and truly fucked by it. (I found out later that it wasn't to size. Good thing. A bull's penis is almost three feet long. Ouch!)

My owner took pity on me for a couple minutes while I uncramped my joints and found the strength to move. Then, it was back onto all fours, with the leash clipped to my collar. We left the shed as we had entered it, only this time with me in front, presumably so he could watch my ass wiggle as I crawled along. We'd only gone a few feet when he tugged on the leash and ordered me to stop and stay. I sighed, wanting only to get into the house and into bed. Then something caught my eye. Our next door neighbor Jeremy was sitting on the porch, naked from the waist down. And his wife was busy humping his leg, her body bare and dripping with sweat. I understood, then. Unlike my owner, he hadn't allowed his slave to cum. And now she was being forced to bring herself off on his leg. I would've felt sorry for her, if she hadn't assumed earlier that the same would happen to me.

"Ass up." I sank down onto my forearms, offering my ass to the man who now owned me, completely and for as long as he wanted me. Looking backwards at him, his rigid cock was an angry red, thick and potent with the threat of ripping me apart. I felt the head slide along my crack and didn't care which hole he took me in. Whatever he wanted was his to command.

His man meat punched into my cunt and I mooed for him, now instinctively playing the part he'd given me. He fucked me like that for a while, grunting every time he slammed against me, the slapping of his flesh meeting mine echoing through the yard. "Hand and knees," he ordered harshly, pulling up on my shoulders. He continued to pound into me, and I suddenly became aware of a strange feeling, like I was being watched.

Sure enough, Jeremy was watching me even as his wife mounted his leg like a bitch in heat. He was saying something to her, I couldn't hear what, but he was staring straight at me. And I reveled in the feeling.

I'd always fantasized about being forced to have sex in public. To be taken in front of a window while a group of strangers watched. To suck cock in the middle of a party, my tits out and ready to catch the streams of cum raining down, even as the party-goers whisper about my cock sucking skills. Fantasies, mind you. Played out in private while I rubbed my pussy.

Now, though, it was all coming true. My owner, my husband, fucking me in the yard, in broad daylight, my tits hanging out and my ass bare, while a neighbor watched with keen interest. Even better, I was stealing his attention from his wife. He wanted to watch me get fucked. I straightened my back so he could better see my tits. Thrust my ass back against his cock so the sounds where louder and wetter. And mooooooed for him, long and loud, when the cock in my pussy found a new home deep in my heaving ass.

My owner bent down then, dropping most of his weight onto me, cramming the full length and girth of his throbbing cock all the way inside my bowels, and whispered in my ear, "A bull shoots a cup of semen into a cow's cunt. How do you think it would feel to have a cup of cum sloshing around in your cunt?" Then, without waiting for an answer, as if I could answer while being ass-fucked that way, he continued, "I'm going to fill your ass with my cum, right now, right in front of the neighbors. Does that turn you on?"

It did. Not that it mattered, because I was already turned on. And in just moments he was grunting about cumming and I was taking his cumshot inside my ass, and then turning around and licking the remaining cum off his thick, nasty cock, gobbling it up and slurping it down, licking his shaft and balls and legs and ass, cleaning him like a feline cleans its litter.

I don't remember crawling back into the house. I barely remember taking a shower. I do remember him rubbing some salve on my tits, given to him by the saintly Dr. Ko. I remember sliding between the sheets.

Then I heard the alarm. It was dark out. The clock read 10:00. I slid out of bed, still sore and tired, and slipped on the half robe he'd left on the clothing chair for me. I left it untied. If he wanted it another way, he'd tell me to do it that way.

I found him sitting in the living room, watching videos he'd taken of that day's adventures. I briefly stood in the doorway, watching myself mooing like a cow as I pulled weeds, my body brazenly naked, my udders swaying. Then I crossed to the couch, lay down with my head in his lap, pulled out his semi-erect cock and started softly sucking him. He hadn't showered, and tasted of sweat and cum and manliness. I groaned with pleasure.

We stayed like that for awhile, my mouth tenderly wrapped around his fuck stick, while he watched me being degraded on screen, and absently stroked and fingered my exposed breasts.

I came up for air, turning my head in his lap until I was facing him, his cock nestled against my ear and hair. "Why a cow?" I asked, glancing back and forth from his face to the screen on which I was now being mechanically milked, my moans and moo's desperate in the background.

I could see him turning over possible answers in his mind. "Because you needed it. Because you wanted to really be pushed. Because I wanted to. And because you couldn't say no."

It wasn't the answer I'd been looking for. It didn't explain why the humiliation made the pleasure more sweeter. Or why the public degradation thrilled me so.

I turned and went back to work on his sacred cock, hoping that this time I would be able to revel in his hot, silky cum, let it drip off my face and onto my tits, and be allowed to swirl it around in my mouth before swallowing it, his semen coating my throat all the way down.

He jerked on my hair. "Get up here and ride me, you filthy, nasty, cow cunt, ass-licking, whore of a twat, cock-sucking slut," he ordered, pushing back the robe and baring my breasts. I did as I was told, quickly and gratefully, and prepared to be fucked again by my husband who was now my owner, and who could do whatever he wanted with me. And to me. As long as we both shall live.

To be continued...