by Rubey Noire
She slings her pants back on and sets to work again, making a quick job of putting away the milker, cleaning the bowls, and gathering my milk into a container carefully. Once it is put away she sets about the task of readying me for the day.
I notice she has oiled the leather harness that holds my udders up and shined the covers that clip to my teats to protect them during my daily activities. She puts on my knee pads and foot protectors on as well as the leather palm covers on my front feet. Once I am clad in those items she removes my collar and leash. Oddly I feel more naked with the collar off that I ever felt before. She produces a new collar that I don't recognize.
She seems to pause before affixing it around my neck. I hold my head up as she buckles it and attaches a shiny new cowbell that tinkles prettily as I move. I think I hear her whisper "thank you" as she finishes attaching the new matching leash, but I'm not sure.
When I am fully ready she removes the strap from underneath my hips and pulls on my leash and I follow her lead dutifully as she carries my milk in her other hand. She hangs my leash to a hook on the wall outside the milk depository then returns to take me out to pasture.
Pasturing the hucows can be somewhat of a dangerous activity. Interaction between us is forbidden but some cows try to break that rule at every opportunity. I find no need for companionship beyond my cowpoke, and secretly feel that if the other cowpokes took as good care of their hucows as mine does of me, they wouldn't attempt to break that rule quite as frequently.
We walk together to the pasture. There is soft grass and shade trees, several troughs of what they call "pasture feed" and several of drinking water. She leads me to the water first and I drink as much as I can, filling myself full to bursting. I'll need to pee soon because of it but we will likely be out to pasture for most of the day and she does not wish me to dehydrate.
I chew some of the shredded wheat pasture feed more for the animalistic satisfaction of chewing cud than of any real hunger. When I first got here that act alone aroused and satisfied me immensely. It was a relief to finally give myself over completely to being a cow.
With my mouth full she leads me on a long, slow walk, I am on all fours like I should be. We travel over and around the large pasture, carefully avoiding the other hucows and their cowpokes.
I am panting and sweaty by the time she leads me back to the water trough. I drink again until my stomach is distended from sheer volume and I realize that I need to pee. Grabbing another quick mouthful of pasture feed to graze on I follow as quickly as possible after her stopping once and pulling ever so slightly on my leash when the need to relieve myself becomes too great. She stops and I spread my legs, urinating in the grass. I moo softly at the relief I feel and she chuckles softly at me. I can't help the blush that creeps up my face. I feel simultaneously humiliated and turned on. Thus the reason I entered the dairy in the first place.
She leads me several feet away from the wet, and pulls my leash to indicate I should lie down in the grass. I lie down on my back and she removes the teat protectors. She massages my udders again, working intently and thoroughly. I watch her as she works.
I want to ask her somehow to suckle me. It is my most fervent wish to be able to feed her directly. I imagine her lying beneath me, my teats swinging freely, swaying and dripping into her mouth while our pussies rut and grind together.
Honestly I don't know if she's ever even tasted my milk. I know most, if not all, of it is sold to pay for my care and feeding.
I moo again when I feel the tingling pressure and fullness as my milk lets down under her ministrations. She looks at my face and nods. Somehow she knows, but I don't know how. Her hands move to the rest of my body massaging my tired muscles.
I'm so much more able to take the physical demands placed on my body than I was when I first came here. Always crawling on all fours, rather than walking up right is difficult and strains the body in unusual ways. My cowpoke, however is also careful to walk me upright for some small part of the day as well, because the truth is that if a hucow is never let up on two legs then her body will begin to break down.
I am reminded again what good care she takes of me and I shut my eyes and smile while her hands work over me, roaming and pressing my body.
Suddenly her fingers slide inside me, spreading me open. With her other hand he lifts and bends my knees and spreads them far apart. The breeze blows across my wetness and tingles, and I realize it covers all the area between my legs and down my inner thighs. This is what she does to me.
Her long fingers, three now, pump in and out of my furiously, hooking upward to push into my g-spot. Her thumbs rubs my clit up and down with every in and out stroke. I keep my eyes shut and my body completely open to her. I want her to do what ever she wants to me and I want to show her that I trust her completely.
As I feel my orgasm building I begin mooing louder and more wantonly. The sound becomes less a moan and more short, and clipped. My hips buck and jerk slightly as the delicious pressure overwhelms me.
"Moo, moo, moo, moo, moo, moo, moo," I pant getting closer and closer still.
I open my eyes and she is sweating with the effort, the muscles of her bare arms straining as her hand pumps into me. I wish her shirt was removed too. It is the first time I’ve wanted to see and suckle her breasts as well, and I can imagine her nipple hardening and swelling in my mouth. The sight of her is wild and raw and imagining her in that state is just the little bit extra I need. I clench and explode on her hand, the spasms taking me.
"Mooo... aaaa gggg oooo hhhh!"
She allows me no time to recover but is immediately pulling me up by my leash back up to all fours. As we walk back toward the barn she pulls the leash for me to walk closer beside her rather than completely behind. Suddenly she shoves the fingers that had just been inside my pussy into my mouth. I suck on them eagerly as we travel.
She pulls them from my mouth with a sloppy plop just before we enter back into the barn.
She gives me a quick and refreshing wipe down, removing all traces of sweat from my neck and back and under my arms, She wipes my pussy as well, and the scraping of the cloth excites my swollen glands, making me want her again. She checks and adjusts my udder harness and removes the teat covers. Quickly and efficiently I am reattached to the milker and moo again as I begin to feel the erotic draining pull on my chest.
She disappears from my stall and I hear the gate lock shut.
Several long minutes later she returns wearing well oiled black leather pants and boots. She smells clean and like spring mountain air. When she steps back around me to remove the milker I see that her hair is still partially damp. She moves my leash to a low hook in the corner where my fresh bedding has been placed. Carefully I lie down and nestle into a comfortable position in the hay.
I shut my eyes happily as she moves about my stall taking care of me.
When I awake next we go through the milking routine once more complete with the massage of my udders. She is fast this time and leaves me in the restraining strap as she takes my milk to the depository. When she returns and I notice that she is nervous.
She runs her hand through her short hair repeatedly as she goes about his work. She fusses over me, my harness, my hair, my collar, seemingly like she's trying to make sure everything is perfect. She removes the leather strap and turns me in tight circles around my stall. She goes through a few leash commands putting me in different positions. She feels my udders and my pussy. She turns me around and fidgets with my tail squeezing my rump roughly. Apparently she's displeased with what she sees because she takes the paddle from the shelf and warms my cheeks with it again.
I am panting and crazy horny by the time she replaces it on the shelf. She returns the covers for my teats, pulling them roughly, making me moan and moo again, before pressing the clamps that hold the covers on closed. Finally when she is satisfied, or perhaps when she runs out of things to check and re-check, she leads me by the leash down the center aisle of the barn an
d heads toward the main barn.
When we enter into the area she has obviously been aiming for it is a large livestock ring. Three men and one woman sit on large chairs on a raised platform in the center of one side of the ring. I follow on my leash as I am led through the soft fragrant sawdust that covers the floor of the ring to its center. We face the observers and my cowpoke uses the leash to turn me facing her. She positions my back feet apart, rump in the air, back curved down so that my udders hang slightly forward. She tilts my chin up so that I am looking straight ahead at her crotch.
She turns again and faces the stern quartet, my leash held loosely in her hand. She appears the picture of calm and ease but I can see her thighs flexed beneath her tight leather pants. I restrain myself from the smug realization that the ‘beast' in the room is the only one aware of how much stress this woman is feeling. I know her well after a year and a half together, though we've never exchanged a single word. Only she and I know that she is the opposite of calm.
I resolve right then and there that whatever this thing is that's going on, I will be perfect for her. She has obviously brought me here to be shown off somehow. My performance, just as she practiced it with me moments ago, will be perfect. I will be flawless for her so that I can watch the stress drain from her body and see her return to the gentle caretaker I know she is.
"Heifer 1422, for your collective inspection, sirs and madam," I hear her say to them. That's my numerical identification; the year I entered the herd and the number I was that entered that year.
"AH! And what a lovely specimen she is too! Well, let's see! Let's see! Don't keep us waiting all day!" The dark haired man in the middle, I can barely see in my peripheral vision, is grinning like a kid with a double scoop ice cream cone. The smile makes me remember him, then all of them. They are the owners, Athena and her brothers: Arman, Alberto and Alonz, weird names for weird siblings. Luckily for me they were weird enough to run and manage one of the only legitimate hucow dairy farms in the world.
My cowpoke turns to me again and uses the leash to lead me around the ring in a circle. I maintain the original position she put me in so that my rump and udders are shown off as well as they can be. The movement of my body in this position and on all fours makes my rump shake from side to side and I feel my tail swish across my cheeks with each sway. The movement and friction of it is supremely satisfying, not just in how it feels to me, but because I can imagine what it looks like.
As we round the circle I am rewarded with a brief view of the owners, and can tell that they are also well pleased. Arman looks like he was just told he could have chocolate syrup on that ice cream I mentioned earlier.
I am led through several moves, including head down to the floor and rump up. My cowpoke shows the brothers my beautiful tail when I am in this position then removing it she reveals the size of the plug that anchors it and my ability to have it removed and receive it back into my body again several times without flinching.
I hear someone hiss from the judges's box, as I now refer to the chairs they're sitting in, but I don't let it distract me from my performance. Still in this position she pushes two fingers into me and hooks them, dragging my wetness out. Then she turns me around and brings me to a small table like platform raised off the ground. With my leash she leads me to climb onto the platform so that, if I chose to, I could look her in the eye. I keep my head slightly down, eyes cast to the button of her pants. I never, ever make eye contact with her unless she leads me to do it.
Once again her long fingers come to my mouth and I stick my tongue out, licking them clean. I hear a soft "very nice" from the judges' box and am glad I can impress them for my cowpoke. I want to be so good for her. They must be judging her on her handling abilities. The better I obey, the better her skills look.
Suddenly I realize the power that gives me and I'm intimidated by it. I could ruin whatever dream she's attempting to fulfill here. I could dash her hopes and crush the ability to get her needs met here in this moment, just by refusing to comply, by resisting something that she commands me to do. It's too much power and I don't like it. I want only to obey. I want to loose myself, all the constraints and responsibilities that come with being an independent woman. I just want to be, to exist, and to be taken care of.
My mind starts to become frantic with the pressure I'm feeling now. I don't want this much control. I don't want to carry the weight of the responsibility for her dreams in my hands. I just want to be commanded. I feel my eyes shut tight against the thoughts and stress flood my body.
The bell on my collar plunks gently as she adjusts the leash. Just like that I am back. She resumes control. I don't have to look at her eyes to see what she has done. She knew. Just as well as I know her, she knows me. She knew exactly how I was feeling but, better yet, she knew what to do to take back that control away from me. She caused that sound to reverberate around me. She adjusts my leash a thousand times a day and never shakes or rattles the bell. She did it on purpose.
With the intentional ringing of my bell - the object that signifies my place - she is saying to me "I control you not the other way around. Let me do what I do. You need only to obey."
And so I do.
For the next twenty minutes she shows off different ways in which we work together. When she apparently finishes the demonstration I am still atop the platform and dripping wet. My rump is stinging from where she'd worked it over with a riding crop and I want her to pound me with her beautiful strap-on so badly I very nearly broke and started begging for it.
I hear papers shuffling. "I see the stats here are very good. When was the last time she was weighed and measured?" I hear Arman ask.
"Yesterday, sir," my cowpoke answers.
"She has come a long way in her milk production. I see that just today in three milkings you've gotten almost twenty four ounces out of her. That's astonishing! The increase in her udder size is quite impressive as well, and yet you haven't added a significant amount of fat. That's a difficult thing to accomplish."
Papers shuffle some more. "Your application here says that you are applying for graduation…" a pause. I assume Arman is reading. "…with a certification as 'Expert Dairywoman.' Do you feel you've earned that standing in so short a time?"
The confident voice I know so well speaks beside me. "I believe I have. In the two years I've been here I took a difficult and very poorly producing heifer and brought her up to an acceptable level by the time she left the dairy. From there I took an adequately producing heifer and turned her into something that I think I've proven is extraordinary. Admittedly this heifer is very docile and a natural hucow if I ever saw one but I think we can all agree that the volume I've taken her to is above any cow you've got in your barn out there. I think my work speaks for itself and therefore I feel comfortable requesting the certification status."
I have to agree with her. I heard the cowpokes talking about that cow before she took me on. They all refused to work with her and questioned why she even sold herself to the dairy in the first place considering how miserable she seemed to be. She had turned the cow around completely.
And, if I was honest, I'd say that my production has far more to do with her than with me. I know it's my body but it's her training and care that brought me to the level I was currently reaching. She was an excellent handler and, in my humble opinion, deserved the 'Expert Dairywoman' status that she was requesting. I feel very privileged that she ever wanted to work with me.
Shuffling more papers, Arman says, "You're also requesting to purchase a trained heifer? Are you beginning your own dairy?"
"No, I have no intentions for the commercial side of dairy farming. What I want could more accurately be described as a personal herd, a very small one at that. I desire only to supply my personal needs and therefore see no need for more that a single milk cow. But, yes, I do want a trained one. I have no desire to leave here only to be confronted with another year or more of training and building production up. I want a huc
ow that can supply my needs from day one."
My heart leaps into my throat as she speaks. She’s leaving? And buying a cow too? Raging green fire clouds my vision and I realize suddenly that I'm jealous. I don't want her purchasing any cow in that barn but me. I want to stay with her…go with her…whatever she wants. Whatever she demands. I want to be the only one she's purchasing.
"I see you have chosen the one you propose to buy. Are you familiar with the requirements and restrictions of the heifer?"
"Intimately."
That single word gives me hope. What cow could she be more intimately knowledgeable about than me?
"You understand that owning your own cow and all of the responsibilities that go along with that are completely different than being a cowpoke in our dairy?"
"I understand."
"And yet you still wish to go through with it? May I ask why?"
A question I would very much like to have the answer to myself. I stop breathing waiting for her to speak. It seems to take forever.
"What I want is long term. I intend to re-visit the ownership terms and discuss time limits and…" She stops speaking and I feel like I'm about to black out from holding my breath in anticipation. I want to scream at her to just finish. And what? And what? And WHAT?
"Yes, go on," Arman prompts and I nearly die of happiness that he's requesting an answer.
"I have hopes of calving her."
…
…
…
Ca-…
Calv-…
Calving?
She wants to…
Well, fuck me with a pogo stick. That was NOT what I expected.
There is only silence from the judges' box and I feel so unbelievably stunned that I'm not sure my limbs can hold me up any longer. Silence rings loudly like the aftershocks of thunder throughout the large room.
Everyone seems to be waiting for something to happen. Finally one of the other brothers speaks.