The Milk Maid Ch. 03

She hadn't noticed anything at first. The change was so gradual that it took a long time for her to react, but laying there in the dark at night, she knew that something was different.

In the beginning she tried to convince herself that someone would find her. She was missing, along with all the other girls, and someone had to notice. This was far too big to go under the radar. But no one ever came. She started to think that no one even bothered to look at all. Perhaps the very people who should stop things like this from happening not only knew that this place existed, but also did nothing about it. They could even be running it for all that she knew. When had she stopped allowing herself to feel hope?

After thorough consideration of every possible scenario she could think of, she had concluded that her only chance of escape seemed to be breaking a window and hope she would survive the fall. Being on all fours most of the time meant she could only see sky though the windows, so she didn't know much about how the surroundings looked like. She wouldn't be surprised if the premises were enclosed by a high fence. Maybe they even had guard dogs. No, surely she would have heard them bark by now? Not that she would be left unsupervised long enough to break a window. She was always locked up or restrained some way or another.

She had deliberately acted obedient, and tried her best not to draw any attention to herself, so she could make a run for it if the opportunity would arise. She had plotted and planned, and with a fool's hope she had waited. But now; shame and terror came crashing down on her as she realized, not only did she act like she was behaving; she truly was. She hadn't thought about escaping, or fighting, or misbehaving in any way in quite some time now. How long had she even been here? How did she not notice that her own thoughts and feelings were slowly fading away? That the outside world seemed so distant, hardly even real?

She knew she was still able to think, it was just so hard; and obeying was so easy. So effortless. She was sure she must have been drugged. She could not believe that she had not thought about that before. But then again, if she was drugged, maybe that wasn't so strange. If that was the case, why did she realize this now? She racked her brain trying to figure out what was different from the day before. It shouldn't be that difficult. Every day was the same.

Every day they strapped her in the milking machine. She got a headache from having to keep her head up in an unnatural position; her wrists ached from constantly having to support the weight of her upper body; her knees were stiff and swollen, full of scrapes, and the burning pain inside of her refused to fade away. Unless she would ask her handler to touch her. To stroke her there. To ease her torment. Thankfully, he enjoyed having her beg for his touch. He enjoyed teasing her, bringing her to the brink of orgasm, only to walk away and ignore her for a while, which meant that she was lubricated enough that the friction of the dildo didn't hurt as much. And every night, her master came for her, used her, always reminding her of what she was, and what he was doing to her, as he came inside of her, breeding her like an animal with no regard for its wants or needs. She had been on the pill before she came here, and had been told that it would take a while to reach optimal fertility again once you quit. She hoped that effect would somehow magically be permanent, that she was infertile, unable to conceive.

She thought about all the women held here against their will. Judging from their behavior, she concluded that all of them must be drugged, it couldn't just be her; and the easiest way to drug that many would probably be to put something in the food or drinks. Their handlers were there at every meal to make sure that everyone ate up, in order to keep them healthy and make sure that the milk was of top quality, as they said. She scoffed internally. Lunch and dinner varied, but breakfast was always the same. There was oatmeal, which she hated, a sandwich, half a boiled egg, and orange juice.

Although not today! Thinking back, she remembered that there had been no orange juice at her place at the table this morning. It had to be the juice. Did everyone else have any? Was it a stroke of luck that they simply forgot hers? She could not tell. Regardless of the reason, she knew she had to act before she lost herself completely.

***

She tried her best to control her temper the next morning. She felt more like her old self, and she was done with these monsters. She couldn't stand what they did to her, just the way they looked at her made her want to scream. This was it. No more.

She was nervous as she sat down at the table, trying to act inconspicuous. The glass of orange juice was back, just like any other day. She took a bite of the sandwich, and lifted the glass to her lips, pretending to take a sip, in case anyone watching would notice that she didn't drink anything. The handlers were patrolling the isles between the long tables. She just needed them all to look in a different direction for a couple of seconds.

She kept glancing around as she ate, and right when it seemed as no one was looking she poured half of her juice into the glass belonging to the woman on her left, hoping it was quick and smooth enough that no one noticed. Her heart was pounding in fear of discovery, and adrenaline was rushing through her body, but the seconds went by and nothing happened. She had gotten away with it! But could she do it again? She hadn't dared giving all of her juice to one woman, in case it could be dangerous to overdose, so she hoped to do the same thing to the woman on her right.

She had eaten all of her sandwich, and started forcing the oatmeal down when she got her second chance. She swiftly tilted her glass and began to pour the remainder of the juice out, when a strong hand suddenly gripped her wrist, making her spill some on the table.

"Now now, you know that everyone must eat and drink up. We went through this the first morning I recall, when you made a fuss about the oatmeal. Then I told you that if you did not eat it all you would have nothing to eat but oatmeal for an entire week, and as a good little pet who understood her own good, you ate it."

Her handler began stroking her hair as he continued talking, "You have been so good lately. Are you going to ruin that now? Here, drink your juice." He held the glass to her lips, but she pulled away and shook her head. She knew it was stupid of her, but couldn't bear to give in so quickly.

"No?" He sighed, "If you are going to behave like that then I have no choice." Before she had time to react he pulled her head back and pinched her nose closed, forcing her to open her mouth to breathe. It didn't take long before she had to draw a breath, and when she did, he simply poured the liquid down her mouth. Some of the juice went down her airways, making her cough, the rest of it she swallowed almost by instinct just so she would not choke. He patted her back, "There there pet. You should have just done as I told you in the first place. You know that by now."

She was so disappointed in herself that she had to fight to hold back the tears. Why had she tried to spare that other woman harm, when it only meant that she would receive it instead? The drugs were probably not that strong anyways, and even if they were, maybe it would have been an act of mercy if she would have died from an overdose. She must be suffering too.

"Time to get to work everybody!" her handler called out, as he pulled her from her seat, pushing her to move forward. Everyone at her section at the table rose, and followed obediently, as he led them through the corridors towards the milking room. As soon as they entered she bolted straight to the nearest window. This was her last chance. She could not screw it up. She did not care what would happen afterwards, she just had to do it. She hurled herself towards the glass and slammed her shoulder hard against it, and; with a thud, she bounced back and fell to the ground from the force of impact.

Her handler stood above her, shaking his head, looking more amused than angry. "The windows are made from safety glass, they're basically bulletproof. We wouldn't want to risk our precious pets falling down and hurting themselves, would we?"

This time she cried. She cried of pain, and anger, of fear, and defeat. As she laid on the floor, wishing she was never born, she heard footsteps approaching, and knew instantly that it was her master.

"I hear that you misbehaved pet. I hope you can see that for all your attempts at defying me, all you managed to do is hurt yourself in the end." She had to admit he was right. All fight in her seemed to have drained, leaving her empty and frail. He picked her up, and carried her to her milking station, fastening the straps to secure her in place. She couldn't find it in her to resist.

"I have good news for you. I understand that you are disappointed in yourself since you aren't contributing the same as everyone else." Earlier, that sentence would have left her dumbfounded, wondering if he even believed his own words, but now she felt so numb she almost began wondering if it was true. "So," he continued, "you have been chosen to take part in a new, large-scale trial, where you will be injected with hormones to induce lactation." He smiled down at her, and all she could do was stare at him.

"My advisors have been pressing me to modernize certain aspects of the company for quite some time now, saying that raising a child to join the workforce is uneconomic and time consuming, not to mention the health risks involved in pregnancy and childbirth. These hormone injections have shown great results in earlier try outs, even increasing productivity, and extensive testing is being carried out to ensure product safety."

He looked so pleased with himself as usual, which normally would ignite a seething rage within her, but now she simply felt a sense of relief by the fact that at least she wouldn't have to bring a child into this world. It felt almost like a victory in a way, despite the fact that it probably had nothing at all to do with her.

"I think this will be just what you need. You will have a clear purpose in life, and all of this conflict within you will end." He pulled out a syringe from his pocket, and removed its cap as he looked her over. The needle looked alarmingly long, surely it wouldn't have to go that deep?

"I can't help but notice how inviting your bottom looks all thrust up like that," he commented as he walked around her. She worried about how much it would hurt for a couple of seconds, then she felt him pinch her butt slightly, before inserting the needle. It stung a bit, but not as bad as she had feared. He removed it after a while, and gently stroked her butt cheek.

"I took the liberty of adding a little something, as a reward for your good behavior earlier. Of course, I didn't know then that you would misbehave this morning, but you have plenty of time to make up for that, don't you?"

"Yes, master," she answered reluctantly, wondering what else he had given her, fearing all possibilities she could think of.

"Good. You are going to need several injections before you start to produce milk, but you should already be able to notice the effects of my little present. Can you feel your pulse quickening? A warmth spreading through your body?" She did, but didn't see the point in answering what he already seemed to know. When she didn't speak, he smacked her bottom hard.

"Answer me pet!"

"Yes, master." The pain was brief but sharp, focusing her mind on the increasingly unavoidable fact: a milk cow and a lab rat, that was all she was now.

He softly ran his hand over her butt cheeks again, surprising her how good it felt this time. Her skin was tingling, sending little shivers across her body, and as he slowly caressed her back, waves of warmth spread to her quickly heating core.

"Just give in," he murmured. "It's so easy to just let go. You have done it before, I know you can do it again."

He moved to her breasts, circling the soft mounds, taking care not to touch her stiffening nipples. With growing desperation, she found that she wanted him to. She resented herself for wanting to feel his touch, but there was nothing she could do about it. She had no choice but to let the feelings wash over her, to immerse in the rapidly rising pleasure.

"Are you wet for me pet? Are you wet for your master?" In shame, she felt her clit throb at his words. She knew she would be. He walked around her, still caressing, never breaking contact with her skin. She could feel his inspecting eyes on her, letting her know that he saw just how wet she was.

"What a good girl," he praised, making her bud twitch again, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. He gently massaged her outer lips, never getting to close to where she wanted him to touch, fueling the frustrating tension building up within her. Just as she considered begging him to touch her there, he stopped, and slid his hands up to her breast again, to resume his soft circling, almost making her whimper in disappointment.

"Your nipples are getting so hard. They must be really sensitive. I imagine that only a light brush of my fingers would send jolts of pleasure, right down to your swollen little clit." She gasped as he then ran his fingers across a nipple, and his touch did exactly what he had described. Without warning he suddenly pinched her other nipple, and she was shocked to suddenly hear herself moan, not believing the sensations that he invoked in her. She never moaned, certainly not just from having her nipples played with.

"That's my good pet. I think you will like being milked in the future." He rolled her nipples between his fingers, making her shudder. "I bet your clit is throbbing now, isn't it? Aching to be touched."

"Yes, master! Please!" This time she didn't even need to force herself to say it. Her rational mind was quickly retreating, yielding to the drug fueled ecstasy.

He reached for her wet folds, sliding his finger up and down her opening, coating it in her juices, before gently massaging her right where she needed him to. The feeling was incredible, and her body began to move instinctively to enhance the pleasure.

"Hold still for me pet," he ordered, in a demanding voice. "You can clench that tight, wet cunt all you want, but don't move."

He rubbed his finger up and down her delicate bud, keeping the same pace and pressure, rapidly building the coiling tension within her. She had to concentrate hard to obey, she couldn't let her focus drop for even a second. Clenching helped, but at the same time it only increased the pleasure, making it even harder not to move, and as the relentless strokes kept coming, it was soon becoming impossible. Her trembling limbs, aching from the static pressure, was begging her to distribute the weight differently, and her assaulted little clit kept telling her it would feel even better if she just moved the way her body wanted to. Despite her efforts to hold still, the increasing tensing and releasing of her abdominal muscles soon forced her lower body into a small rocking motion.

"You know what happens when you disobey me."

A series of sharp swats landed on her ass, making her yelp. "But I can't be too hard on you this time." Her masters stern voice warmed, and she could hear that he smiled when he talked, "I knew you couldn't keep from moving your hips, you wanton little slut."

He touched her again, softly; teasingly. "You need something inside of you, don't you? You want to be filled. Fucked."

"Yes, master!" Her pussy was in control now, and it craved to be wrapped around something, to squeeze it hard.

"Well I have just the thing for you, my little milk maid."

She then felt the familiar, detestable dildo sliding into place, resting just against her opening. She almost grunted in disappointment. That hadn't been what she had in mind.

"Now push back just a little, that's it. Feel how your wet little slit parts for it to enter. Feel how it's stretching your tight opening."

Fuck. It felt insanely good. She wanted to let it sink in all the way, but her master stopped her. "Take it slow pet, I want you to feel it caress your walls as it slides just a little bit deeper inside of you with each stroke."

He resumed lazily stroking her clit, making her clench around the thick shaft, creating the most delicious friction. Nothing had ever felt so good before. She hardly even registered that she was moaning again. She was overwhelmed with the desire to push back further, to make it fill her completely, but did her best to obey her masters order. Just a little at the time. Slowly.

Her nerve endings were tingling and buzzing, sending waves of ecstasy as more and more met the surface of the firm rod. When she finally had all of it inside of her, it felt as if they were practically leaping with joy. He then let her move faster, and slowly increased the pace of his fingering, until she was quivering with need.

"Don't try to tell me that this is not what you want, what you need." He chuckled as she didn't respond, to focused on the pleasure she was feeling.

"Come for me pet" he demanded, as he reached forward to fondle her breast, before he pinched her nipple hard between his rough fingers. She felt as if her core suddenly exploded, when hot, electric convulsions charged through her as she came, making her whole body shake.

"Good girl," he praised her, as she slumped down with her pulsating pussy still impaled on the smooth rubber cock, right where it belonged. "Good girl."