“Spread your legs Daisy.”
He spoke his words with a slow hiss. The pace of my heart’s beating sped at hearing the dangerous and sensual tone he used to issue his command. An electric thrill wiggled its way up my spine and took root in my chest, forcing me to exhale then pant. Still angry, but suddenly desperate to comply with this instruction, I spread my legs as far apart as I could while still remaining on my hands and knees.
Snap! I reflexively clenched my ass cheeks tightly as I heard the sharp sound of his handkerchief whip in mid-air behind me.
“Relax, Daisy.”
He kept saying my name in the lowest, most sultry voice I’d ever heard in my life. My arousal grew. I began to moisten. No, in truth I began to wet. My slick channel dripped sopping wet with the need to be filled by the farmer’s massive cock again.
A hot breeze swept over my ass cheeks. My clit hardened and pulsed as I felt the heat of his breath blow over the surface of my puckered asshole. Rough hands spread my pussy wide. Then his smooth tongue dipped into my exposed hole, cleansing it.
He tasted my slit, trailing his tongue from the tip of my clit up to the puckered dip of my rear. He took his time carefully cleansing me, drinking down our combined fluids with noisy, sloppy slurps. When he was satisfied that he’d thoroughly cleaned my hole, he dipped his skilled tongue down to my inner thighs and cleansed me there as well.
The hay shifted under me once again as my farmer stood, walked back over to the milking chair and sat down. He whipped the handkerchief in mid-air once more and brought the embroidered square to his face, using it to cleanse my glistening fluids from the hard angles of his chin and cheeks. He declined to swipe the handkerchief across his lips.
“I intend to breed you,” he said matter-of-factly while reaching forward and taking two large swaths of my long brown hair in his fists again before tugging my head upwards insisting that my eyes meet his.
He’d already filled me with his cum, beginning the breeding process. But by law, I have the right to request a morning after pill and refuse to bear his child.
I may be a hucow, but I still have rights. And now that I’m the last known hucow in this country, I also have power. Immense power. It’s not just the zombie herd that's trying to steal me away from the farmer. As the last hucow, I receive fan mail on a daily basis and invitations from other farmers to abandon this farm and come live with them inside their luxuriously appointed barns.
I can leave this farm at any time. My contract with the farmer expired two years ago. I’ve only stayed put because ever since I'd turned eighteen years old, this farm has been my home — and the farmer, farm hands and other human farm animals, my cherished family.
“Would you like me to breed you, Daisy?”
The farmer asked me his original question again. His voice was hesitant, although not weak.
“Daisy?” He unfisted my hair, grabbed me by the shoulders and lifted me into an upright position. As he stood, he twirled me around and sat me down on his milking stool. I sat, and he stood in front of me, his body towering over my petite frame.
It was obvious he’d expected me to immediately say ‘yes’ to his request to breed me. He’d expected me to accept the gift of his seed without hesitation. But, now that I’ve hesitated, his fear that I might refuse him his breeding desire shows on his face.
The man’s clearly unused to being disappointed. His current facial expression is a twisted cross between a smirk, a scowl, and a grimace. I furrowed my brows then shot him a twisted expression of my own. I aimed for a combination smirk and innocent doe-eyed gaze.
He glared back at me and bit his lower lip. It was a nervous twitch I’ve never seen him display before. I liked the way it looked on him — nervousness. I enjoyed watching the powerful man’s lips quiver before me. I delighted in knowing I was the one who’d made him tremble.
How long will I allow this game where I torture him to continue? A few more seconds? An hour? An entire day? A week?
Of course, I want the farmer to breed me. With his cropped wolf-brown mane, chiseled, angular features, and broad chest, the man is handsome. He’s also powerful. He commands all his farm hands and human farm animals with a restrained strength rarely seen in a leader so young.
With his vast land holdings and highly profitable farm-based businesses, my farmer is one of the most successful men in the country. Bearing his child would be a supreme privilege.
I know that what he’s offering me is a great honor. But still, I’m furious about the cruel way he and Bella treated me. I know I keep harping on it, but I can’t get over the horror of what happened. They laughed at me. For me, it was the most agonizing torture. Everyone on the farm knows I can’t stand to be laughed at or mocked. The pain of public humiliation cuts me too deeply.
The farmer’s and Bella’s taunts had been so devastatingly cruel and had hurt me so much that I’d actually considered racing out of the farm gates to join the zombie herd. They’d injured my pride so badly that for a brief moment, I'd thought that transforming into a roaming rotting and toothless undead corpse was preferable to living in the safety, comfort and community of the farm.
Recently, during the privacy of one of our showering sessions, Bella confided that she thought I was becoming an overly pampered hucow.
“You’ve become a fame monster. No need to worry about being turned into a zombie hucow. You’ve already transformed into a twenty-five-year-old self-important brat.” Those were her actual, exact words.
My heart had shattered inside my chest at hearing her harsh assessment of my character. At the time, I’d wondered what I’d done to deserve the cruel tongue lashing. All I’d been doing was enjoying the slippery wet sensations of her tongue lapping at my clit while I gazed at a laminated photograph of an extravagantly appointed barn. It was a photo that one of my many admirers had sent to me – one of the farmers who’d sought to steal me away from this home.
Maybe Bella was angry because I hadn’t tasted her pussy for over a week. In hindsight, I can see how selfish I was to take my pleasure without giving her any in return. But, in my defense, I didn’t think she’d needed to be licked. She was no longer a hucow, after all. She didn’t have a high libido or require the almost constant sexual stimulation that I did.
“Answer me,” the farmer commanded with such tension in his voice that I almost expected him to hoist me over his shoulder and give my bottom a thorough spanking. But, he didn’t.
“Would you like me to breed you, Daisy?” he asked one last time, his tone taking on an almost desperate quality.
“I’m not sure,” I lied. “I’ll have to think about it.”
Then I pinched and tweaked the tender flesh under my right thigh to keep my lips from bursting upward into a victorious smile.
A pained grimace flashed across the farmer’s face. And I almost thought I heard his heart bust out of his chest, crash to the ground and shatter into a billion broken pieces.
Chapter 4
Daisy
Chaos.
The shrieking cries of men being drained of their life fluids explode inside my ears.
I run.
My bare feet race along the dusty ground toward the safety of the tall steel double gates surrounding the inner farmhouse compound.
I trip.
My knees and palms burn from the scraping of skin against rock.
Strong hands lift me up. They belong to the farmer. He holds me close to him. We run.
We run — hand-in-hand — together.
He grips my fingers tightly and pulls on my arm hard in our race toward the farmhouse.
Rotten flesh.
The stench of decaying flesh permeates the air.
I choke on its foul odor as I chug in lungful after lungful of air trying to keep pace with the long-legged farmer.
Hands cold and wet catch me by the arm then yank back my hair.
My beautiful long wavy brown crown is my undoing.
I look back.
Relief.
I pant in thanks.
It’s only a frightened hupig grasping onto me, hoping to be delivered to safety.
I see a pack of zombies racing toward us.
The zombies run.
Can zombies run?
Of course, they can, but only if they’re the ones who still have their luminescent green teeth. The ones whose flesh hasn’t rotted off their bones yet.
“Run!”
The farmer screams his command while simultaneously throwing both me and the terrified hupig ahead of him.
“Keep running toward the farmhouse. You’ll both be safe there!”
I grab the young hupig’s hand and pull her with me toward safety.
She squeals in terror as we both watch zombies descend on the farmer.
I run.
I move as swiftly as my scratched up feet will carry me.
I glance back and witness the farmer fighting.
He’s struggling against six or seven zombie hucows who are trying to rip open his jeans. If they get into his pants and pull out his cock, the farmer will be finished. They’ll each wrap their zombie lips around his shaft and suck out his life force. They’ll suck and suck until they’ve drained him dry. The man will have his future years drained away from him. He’ll be aged from twenty-nine to One-hundred-and-nine in a matter of minutes.
I can’t think about that now — the terror is weighing down my heart, slowing me down.
I must run as the farmer commanded me to.
I must run to the safety of the farmhouse compound.
But, I can’t run at top speed with this chunky little hupig in tow.
Hupigs are known for their beauty and voracious sexual appetites, not their athleticism. I can’t force her to run any faster. The poor little thing is already gasping for air. She’s already racing at top speed. If I pull on her arm any harder and force her to speed up, she’ll collapse. Then I’ll be compelled to stand over her downed body and fight off the zombies as they attack us.
Most likely we’ll both be captured and turned into zombies ourselves by morning.
I shake my head violently, refusing to give up, refusing to allow myself or my hupig sister to be taken and turned into glowing blue-eyed freaks of nature.
My arm lurches backward as the hupig trips and tumbles to the ground.
“Don’t abandon me!” she squeals and extends one open hand in my direction.
“I’ve got you! Now stand up and run!” I shout down at her as I take her by the hand and yank her body upright.
We both right ourselves and take off running again.
As we race together toward safety, I think of the farmer.
I glance back, but I can’t see him. All I see is the semi-organized chaos of certain zombies carrying off their female captives while others feed on their male victims.
The little hupig running beside me squeals in terror as she runs and I shift my thoughts elsewhere to try and drown out the loud high pitched shrieks of her clearly uncontrollable vocalizations.
I’m in love with the farmer. I have been for years. His handsome, commanding form and his reputation as a fine leader were why I’d applied for acceptance to this farm in the first place.
I’d been lucky to win a position as one of the hucows in the farm’s award winning herd. I could have been made into a hupig, but that wasn’t my destiny. I was destined to become a hucow. And I became one of the most decorated hucows of all time.
Aside from Bella, I’d won more hucow competitions than anyone else in our herd. The day I’d been transformed into a prize winning lactating heiffer by that single government hormone injection was the first day I’d truly started living.
It was the day I found my purpose. And my purpose was to serve the farm, the farmer and his wife by providing a bounty of delicious and nutritious creamy milk.
I see the double gates of the farmhouse compound.
They are wide open and both farm hands and human farm animals are racing inside them.
We’re almost there.
My squealing hupig companion and I are almost safe.
I wish I knew if the farmer was going to be safe too.
I wish I hadn’t tortured him by fibbing about my desire to be bred.
I wish I’d told the farmer ‘yes’ the first time he’d asked me if I wanted to bear his child.
I wish I’d flung my arms around his neck and planted kisses on his cheeks and said to him ‘Yes, I want you to breed me. I not only want you to breed me, I want you to love me. And I want to love you too.’
The farmer was legally allowed to have three wives. He only now had two. Hamma and Bella. I could still be number three. There was still room for one more woman in that big round bed of theirs – the one Bella was always making me jealous by bragging about.
Speaking of Bella, where is Bella?
God, I hope she’s safe inside the farmhouse compound.
She should be.
It’s the right time of day for her to be inside the farmhouse completing her wifely duties.
Chapter 5
Daisy
“What happened?” Hamma screamed while pressing her full body weight against the heavy lever that was keeping the compound’s gates from crashing shut.
She was shouting her question at no one in particular. She was simply questioning everyone in the rushing crowd at once, clearly hoping that someone, anyone knew the answer to her question.
“Someone cut the power to the electric fence,” Sarah, a platinum blonde with short spiky hair who also happened to be one of the senior farm hands shouted out her response. She was leading a harnessed team of ponyboys. The eight-horse team pulled behind them a wagon full of injured hupigs, ponyboys, and hubulls into the compound gates.
“Then there was a series of explosions,” a young male hubull with a shiny steel waist harness who I didn’t recognize added another piece of information.
“The saboteurs disabled the backup power generators, all three of them,” Magnus, the head hubull shouted. The large, powerfully built honey-skinned bull was carrying two younger injured hubulls draped over his shoulders as he ran through the compound’s open gates. His copper neck, wrist, and ankle collars shone brightly in the mid-morning sunlight as he raced over to deposit the two groaning men he was carrying at the makeshift open-air hospital to the left of the gate.
My pussy clenched the way it always did whenever I saw him. Even after these two long years, the man still had the chiseled physique of a sex-god. Don’t get me wrong, he was a young and virile man. At only twenty-nine, he was the same age as the farmer. It was only that I hadn’t had the pleasure of touching his hard muscles or riding his massive cock in over two years. The day I became the last known hucow in the country, the farmer issued a farm-wide order declaring my body off limits. No man was allowed to touch me, not even the head hubull Magnus.
The young hubull with the shiny steel waist harness ran up behind me and my young hupig companion. He grabbed both her and me around the waist. “Let me help you ladies navigate the crowd. I wouldn’t want either of you to be trampled.”
“Hands off the hucow, Decimus!” Magnus shouted to the young hubull touching me. “She belongs to the farmer. She’s to be Flavius’ third wife.”
The young hubull yanked his hand away from my waist as if he’d been burned then picked up the young hupig and carried her through the crowd to safety.
“Come over here, Daisy!” Hamma shouted to me, her voice sharp and distinctive amidst the loud roar of the rushing crowd.
I fought my way through the onrush of people to where Hamma and Magnus were standing.
“Where is Flavius?” Magnus questioned.
“Uh, uh,” I stuttered. “I’m not sure. A group of zombies attacked him half-a-mile back.”
Magnus turned toward Hamma. “I’m leaving to find him, mama. I hope I can reach him in time. If I hurry, maybe I can rescue him before the zombies steal too many years from him.”
; “Yes, search for him, but don’t risk yourself. Stay safe son.”
Magnus tipped his head and Hamma tilted her chin up to kiss his smooth forehead. He wrapped his powerful arms around her strong shoulders, hugging her tightly before rushing through the compound’s gates in search of his best friend, the man who was apparently destined to be my future husband.
“Please, hold this gate lever open. I’ve been holding onto it for so long I can no longer feel my arms,” Hamma begged with weary eyes.
“Of course, of course,” I ran to her side, feeling foolish for not offering to hold the lever for her when I first saw her struggling with it.
Carefully I grabbed onto the tall, thick, ratcheted metal pole, and slowly she released it. At first, my entire body lurched forward, but I leaned back with my full body weight and soon I was holding the lever securely in place.
“If you see a zombie, quickly let go of the pole,” Hamma instructed. “The compound gates will slam shut and electrify, protecting everyone inside from the invading zombie horde.”
As I stood clutching the metal pole, I watched as Hamma sat down on the iron bench next to me. She swept her shoulder-length silver and black coiled curls away from the caramel colored oval of her face and used her hands to fan away the beads of sweat gathering at her temples. She was fifty-two years old, but looked closer to thirty-five, blessed as she was to have smooth, wrinkle-free skin.
“I suppose you heard what Magnus said about you becoming Flavius’ third wife,” Hamma told me in her motherly tone while shaking out her arms and clenching and unclenching her hands.
“Yes,” I muttered then quickly cleared my throat. “Yes, I heard him,” I said projecting my voice this time.
“Did he propose to you yet?”
“No, no he didn’t.” I paused then elaborated on my answer. “He just told me that he wanted to breed me…after he and Bella pleasured me during my milking.”
“Pleasured?” Hamma growled. “Are you being completely honest with me?”
Taboo Desires: Dirty Forbidden Secrets Bundle (The Complete Miranda Cougar Collection) Page 28