The Milk Maid Ch. 02

She tried to talk to a few others the first night, but quickly learned that it was of no use. No one would answer, or even seem to notice her. She assumed it was against the rules. These people seemed dead set on stripping away every ounce of humanity from her.

In the morning, everyone lined up against the bars and presented themselves to their handlers; their positions conveying the clear message that they were begging to be taken. When she had refused to do the same, the man from the night before entered the room.

"You remember what we talked about yesterday, don't you? I even showed you pictures." He looked disappointed, and again spoke to her in the same voice one would use to speak to a small child or a puppy. "Why don't you come up here and be a good little pet and offer yourself to your handler. Do you remember what happened the last time you wouldn't obey orders?" He showed her the little black box in his hand, which made her hesitantly position herself against the bars. She told herself that it wasn't worth it to put up a fight this time. And besides, judging by the others it seemed to be over with quickly.

She had been correct. It only took a minute or so of him pumping in and out of her before he pulled out and made her turn around. This was the part that she truly dreaded. She had only taken it in her mouth once before, and then she had spit it out. It wasn't so much the flavor as the consistency. The slimy, watery, viscous fluid was simply the worst thing she had ever put in her mouth, and she had been determined to never do it again. But she remembered the threat of having to eat it cold from a cup if she did not swallow, and that she would not get to eat anything else until she had eaten her "breakfast". Her hunger helped strengthening her resolve to swallow, and when she felt the first drops hit her tongue she tried to get him as far back as possible to get it down quickly and avoid having it accumulate in her mouth. She gagged when it was over, but she did manage to hold it down.

The man from the day before opened her cage and bent down to pet her head. "Good girl. That's a good little pet." She felt her cheeks flush with anger and humiliation, but said nothing. She simply followed as she was led away to the showers.

***

Even though she wasn't lactating yet, they still strapped her to the machine, forcing her to churn milk into butter by penetrating herself with a phallic shaped rod, and pushing it back and forth. As if it wasn't humiliating enough to be in such a degrading position, there had to be others watching as well. Row upon row of other milkmaids filled the room at all sides, all strapped to machines that were separated by aisles into smaller sections. Not that any of the others seemed to care. At closer inspection, many actually appeared to be enjoying themselves; a though that she pushed away as soon as it popped up. Perhaps there was some kind of benefit to display good behavior. They couldn't possibly accept to be treated as animals, and certainly not like it, could they?

The constant friction inside of her soon kindled a deep, burning pain, which only seemed to be getting worse with each passing minute. If she would stop moving for more than a couple of seconds, a sharp jolt would be emitted from the rod inside of her, slightly increasing in strength each time. Crying in pain, she begged the man who checked in on her from time to time to please let her rest for a while, but his only response was that she had a job to do and a schedule to follow. She would get a bathroom break in a couple of hours, and she would have to wait for that like everybody else.

She tried to take her mind of the pain by intently focusing on her surroundings. Possible escape routes took up a good deal of time, but she found none that seemed likely to work. Since there was little else to look at she moved on to analyse how the machines were constructed, and noticed some sort of low railing resting just above the floor. It encircled the milking stations, so she had to have stepped over it to get to the machine without thinking about it. She could not figure out what practical use it could possibly have, and there were little bumps protruding from the surface on top which seemed odd. An ugly, pointless design feature? Better grip for something? It remained a mystery.

When she was finally released from the machine, she could barely walk. And when she was taken back to it, far too soon to have recovered even slightly, she broke down in tears, begging her handler not to make her get in that thing again. Her handler ignored her pleas and simply lifted her in place, strapped her in, and walked away.

She knew that this would be much less painful if she would be at least a little bit aroused. She saw no other choice than to touch herself, hoping that no one would notice. It took a while, but eventually she started to feel the familiar tingles, followed by at least a tiny amount of lubrication, which still worked wonders to ease some of the friction.

Suddenly a smack landed on her ass, startling her to jerk her hand away. "It is strictly prohibited for milkmaids to be touching themselves. Wasn't that brought up in your introduction?" Her handler walked around to the front as he spoke.

"No." She shook her head, and barely had time to flinch before the slap hit her cheek.

"No, what?"

"No, sir."

"Well that is too bad. I still need to punish you for breaking the rules."

She closed her mouth as quickly as she had opened it to protest when she saw the look on his face.

"So, you want to touch your clit? I'll give you just what you want, isn't that nice of me?"

He dragged her out of the machine, on to the floor, and positioned her with one leg on each side of that strange railing. He then pressed a button on the wall, and it started to rise upwards until it was pressing up between her legs. He walked over and made sure that her clit was touching it, and then smacked her ass again.

"Move along!"

"What?"

"You heard me, just keep walking until I say so."

She started walking, and immediately understood what the little bumps were for. When she moved, the variation in the surface stroked at her clit with different intensity, from only a light brushing to a firmer pressure. She walked around the section of milking stations, in front of everyone, getting closer and closer to orgasm with each step. After a while he had her go backwards to vary the stimulation, much to her distress, since that way it felt even better.

It wasn't long until her juices had lubricated the whole railing for her, heighten the pleasure even further. Soon her clit throbbed in ecstasy as she came, and she paused a bit, not wanting to induce that uncomfortable feeling of over-stimulation.

"I told you to keep walking until I say so. You wanted to be stimulated, and now you are." He pushed her a bit to get her to move again. She walked slowly, but he told her to increase the pace. Her body started jerking when each bump touched her sensitive clit. She hesitantly rose up on her toes to get some relief.

He laughed at her efforts. "We'll see how long you can keep that up." In the end that turned out to be longer than he liked, since he again pressed the button on the wall to raise the bar slightly, making it impossible to escape its touch, and harder for her to walk.

It was apparently not enough for them to hurt and humiliate her, no, she had to do it to herself by her own hand, which made it even more unbearable. She had to force herself to continue to walk, to put one foot in front of the other and drag herself forward using her arms, even though her whole body was screaming at her to stop. Just one more step, then it will all be over. Just one more step. One more step.

***

Not until she had stopped begging and crying, and started screaming, he lowered the bar. Her whole body was convulsing and her legs collapsed, making her hold on to the bar for support as she slowly sank with it to the floor.

The man from the night before stood before her again. "I understand that you have been a naughty girl haven't you?" He smiled down at her as he found the situation amusing. "We don't mind if you come really, in fact, we encourage it. There are sensors in that rod up your little cunt that can read of body heat and contractions, and it monitors when you do so. Our customers are, for some reason, willing to pay extra for a product from such a batch. However, you are of course not allowed to bring yourself to an orgasm by touching yourself. Some of our milkmaids can come from vaginal stimulation alone, but others, like you, need help from their handlers. You need to ask him nicely if he might stroke you."

As always his words repulsed her. It was not only what he said, but the way he said it. For some reason she wanted to claw her own eyes out every time he spoke. Or even better, his. She had never had an urge to hurt someone so badly before. Was he for real? She would not ASK to be touched! In the back of her mind though she knew that she might. Eventually she would beg to be touched to ease the pain, and they would enjoy to see her so humiliated. She suppressed that thought and fantasized about all the things she would to him, if she only could, as she was lead back to her cage.