A Girl and Her Cow: The Complete Series

by Rubey Noire

  "Do you realize what you are saying?"

  "I do."

  “How will you impregnate her?”

  “She will have to be inseminated, but I think we can work that out.”

  The other brother asks, "I'm afraid we cannot allow you to purchase a cow under those conditions without the ownership terms being set in stone first. If you were merely purchasing for the purpose of milk and long term to you meant several years, that would be within the bounds of the set parameters of your chosen cow however this…unprecedented request must be taken back to negotiations. We couldn't possibly allow the transaction to occur under these circumstances."

  "I understand completely. That's the reason I brought it up. I'm completely serious and wish for negotiations to take place at once, pending your approval of all my other requests."

  I hear whispers amongst the brothers. After a few moments, "We will begin at once. Proceed to the conference room. We will allow the parties involved some time before we send Bradley in to draw up the papers. Is that satisfactory with you?"

  "Yes, thank you." I can hear the happiness in her voice but I'm dying inside. I still don't know who she's chosen. It's entirely possible that it isn't me.

  Using the leash she leads me off the platform and we head in the direction of the cow barn. With every step we take toward my stall my heart becomes heavier. By the time we enter the gate my tears are flowing freely. It's painfully obvious she doesn't want me. Why return here to my stall except to put me up?

  She attaches my leash to the wall, secures me in the restraining strap and removes my teat covers. She goes ahead and removes my udder harness and attaches the milkers. I'm too destroyed inside to wonder why she's milking me again after only a couple of hours. Usually it's every four.

  I close my eyes because I don't want to see her moving about my stall for the last time through watery eyes. I remember all the happiness I've had in the last eighteen months and replay that in my head as I listen to her ministrations around me. I can hear her removing things from the walls. Most of the objects in the stall are hers, purchased by her to be used on whatever cow she is training at the time. She brought all of it when she began working with me.

  The tears fall faster when I realize that the next time I see these walls they will be bare of all traces of her.

  She works on me occasionally as well, removing my knee pads and foot and hand protectors. She takes my hair down and it falls in wavy strands around me because of the braids. She massages my udders like she always does to stimulate as much production as possible. I cry some more and lean into her, smelling her familiar scent, trying to memorize it before she leaves me forever.

  She removes the milkers. Everything makes me cry now. Everything is a last: last massage, last milking, last smell, last, last, last. It's in this moment that I realize that I love her. Not just as a caretaker, but her, as a woman. I miss her already and I love her so much. How can I just let her walk away from me?

  How can I not? If she wanted me, she would have fought for me. But here I am, in my stall again.

  She releases me from the restraining strap then removes my tail and my collar. Her collar. Her symbol of possession, ownership. With that act she is taking her hand off me. I am no longer what I thought I was. I am no longer hers.

  My eyes have still not opened. She lays her hand against my cheek and brushes the tears away with her thumb. I lean into her touch one last time and, for the first time ever, I am the first to pull away. But I don't open my eyes. I won't watch her walk away from me.

  I can't stop the sound of her footsteps though. I can hear them reverberate in my chest like a dying heart. Her heavy leather boots pound out the fading beat of my heart as she carries it away with her.

  I am alone in the stall, bereft of anything of hers. Without looking I crawl to where I know my bedding lies and curl up in a ball. I let loose my misery silently into the fragrant hay.

  Time has no meaning for me and I have no idea how long I cry when I hear the gate of my stall being opened. I look up in sudden irrational hope that she has returned to me and stare instead into the dull blue eyes of a different cowpoke, Scarlett Windt. I cannot take another blow and collapse again.

  Only what happens next could have shaken me from my descending spiral of pain.

  "Oh, um, I really need you to stop doing that," she says uncomfortably.

  She actually speaks to me. Cowpokes aren't supposed to speak to the cows ever. I look up again at her in shock.

  "Yeah, good. Okay, so you have to come with me now." Scarlett never was one for eloquence. I'm so stunned that I rise up on my hands and knees to follow her.

  "No, I mean, like, the regular way, you know?" She walks in place and I gather she wants me standing erect. I stand up and my muscles protest. I haven't been walked this way all day and the sensations feel alien.

  I have no idea what is going on and am even more confused when she suddenly thrusts a long silk robe at me that is robin's egg blue. "You need this," she says.

  Quickly I don the garment. It feels exquisite against my skin after having been worked over today several times with the paddle and the riding crop. I can't help but swish the cloth around me a little as I tie the sash in place.

  I am covered from my shoulders to my ankles, more covered than I have been in a year and a half and yet I feel embarrassed. Somehow I feel more naked or raw? Exposed maybe. I'm not sure of the right word but I feel like everyone is looking at me when, in truth, there's only Scarlett.

  I suddenly remember her and look up again, eyebrows raised.

  "Okay, let's go," is all she says and takes off down the center aisle. It takes me a moment to realize she's walking off and I scramble to catch up with her.

  Somehow keeping my eyes down and just watching her feet makes me feel more comfortable and less like people are looking at me. But even watching her feet I nearly run into her when she stops suddenly and opens a door.

  "Here ya go," she says and leaves.

  I look after her, confused for a second as to whether I'm supposed to be following her or not. A throat clears to my right and I turn and look in through the door that Scarlett's just opened.

  It's her. It's my cowpoke. She’s standing there looking shy and red-faced. She’s wearing a new plaid shirt and jeans.

  "I'm sorry," she says and I feel like my brain is having a delayed reaction because I can't understand what is going on.

  I just stare at her because I cannot think of anything intelligent to say at all.

  "I wanted to talk to you, like this, like equals." She’s rambling slightly but my brain is starting to boot back up and I'm beginning to realize that there's a distinct possibility that she wants me. Of course she may just want to tell me good bye, too. That thought keeps me from reacting the way I want at the sight of her, which is, honestly, to hump her leg.

  Jeez, she looks good in jeans and a tee-shirt.

  "I'm sorry I didn't say anything before but…I just wanted to really talk to you." We stare at each other for a full minute, neither saying anything. I watch emotions dance across her face: embarrassment, hope, fear, defeat, depression. They do nothing to help alleviate my confusion.

  "Of course if you're not interested at all. I do understand. I had kinda thought that maybe it was mutual but it would be so easy to misinterpret, wouldn't it? I mean we've never even had a conversation, have we? So, I get it. Really. I don’t even know if you’re a lesbian." Her hands go into her pockets and I suddenly have this urge to crawl into them too so she can carry me home with her. "I'm sorry for assuming. I just thought I'd offer. It's alright. Well, I think I'll be going now. There's really no need for the paperwork at this point. I have no interest in any of the others."

  She seems like she's waiting for something and I rack my brain trying to think of what it might be.

  "Yeah, so…" the words die in her throat and she reaches for the bag next to the chair she was obviously sitting in moments before. Strangely I realize
I have yet to enter the actual room with her and am still standing in the hallway looking in through the doorway.

  She hesitates again and shifts the bag to the other hand then steps toward me. My heart jumps in my chest because I'm sure I am going to feel her hand on my face again, just like she always does. I close my eyes waiting for the moment of bliss when I feel a breeze blow past me. Her hand never comes and I open my eyes again. The room is empty.

  I turn a complete 360 looking for her and see her walking, shoulders slumped, down the hall away from me. Where is she going?

  I have to stop her. I have to follow. I have to…

  " Wilhelmina!" It's the first word I've spoken in eighteen months and the flavor of it is wonderful in my mouth. So wonderful, in fact, that I say it again just because I can. " Wilhelmina."

  She turns at the sound of her name the first time and takes a step toward me with the second. That one step and the look of hope on her face is all I need. Realization dawns on me like the morning sun and I run to her, throwing myself at him. She drops the bag and catches me mid-air.

  She’s kissing my face and I'm crying into her neck repeating her name over and over and over because it's so unbelievably beautiful that I can't stand it. She starts laughing and crying, I think, and kissing me more.

  "I don't even know your name," She says pulling my face back and pushing my hair out of the way.

  "Angelina," I tell her.

  "Angelina," she repeats and it's the most beautiful sound in the world, her saying my name. I want her to say it again, every day, forever.

  "I don't need any papers. I'm yours, forever, if you want me." I cry and kiss away her tears at the corners of her eyes.

  "Angelina, Angelina, Angelina. Marry me Angelina. I don't just want this part of you. I want it all, all of you."

  "Yes, Wilhelmina. I'll marry you. Now, take me home." We laugh together and eventually she carries me not just out to her car but over her threshold, home.

  Note from Rubey Noire:

  I hope you enjoyed this Lesbian Lactation story. If it made you hot and horny, please leave a review!

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  Look for more in my lactation fetish series, Lacto-Nurse: The Dominant. Every Thursday Seventies Vibe Publishers presents a vintage, full bush retro-porn. These are always enlightening, and super sexy!

  Also look for Fifty Greys in the Shade: a series that will surely make you want to be possessed! ;-)

  Sexily Yours,

  Rubey