Taboo Desires: Dirty Forbidden Secrets Bundle (The Complete Miranda Cougar Collection)

by Miranda Cougar

  He thinks I’ve gone mad with pain. He’s the one suffering, but he’s still trying to give me some of his strength. Fuck yeah. The man’s strong. He’s a brick wall. My brick wall. Choosing him as my best friend all those years ago was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. This man can survive anything. With him at my side, we will win this battle against our enemies.

  Good. The zombie minions see Flavi’s injury. A group of them are rushing toward us. They won’t allow him to suffer for long.

  Hold on buddy. They’ll heal you soon.

  The head zombie, the one who reports to the queen, ordered the minions not to kill us. So, every time I injure Flavi, the mindless worker zombies stop draining our life force and switch modes. They heal both him and me.

  Flavi and I have the advantage over these hive minds, because of our continued ability to reason. We can still make choices that make sense, unlike these mindless minions. These zombies aren’t going about their work of breaking us in an intelligent manner. They are supposed to be maintaining us alive, but they keep injuring us. They injure us during the draining of our life forces. Then they injure us again when they shove the feeding tubes down our throats.

  They seem to be content to damage us. But, whenever I break Flavi’s fingers they grow furious. When I injure my companion, it sends them into a hot rage. They growl and hiss. Then a group of them come rushing over to repair us.

  I glance over at Flavi. These zombies need to hurry up and heal him. He’s lost a significant amount of blood and the man’s looking pale. I don’t like to see him this way. He’s visibly suffering in excruciating pain. And from the nonsense he’s shouting inside our heads, it’s clear to me he’s losing the struggle to hold on to what’s left of his show of bravado.

  Hold on Flavi.

  Finally, teeth release from my companion’s flesh. The zombies have stopped draining us prematurely. Soon they’ll re-insert the feeding tubes again. In a few minutes, Flavi and I will both be choking down zombie milk. The milk will repair our bodies and we’ll grow stronger than ever. Another one or two more rounds of this torture and I estimate our muscles will build up enough strength for us to be able to bust our way out of this prison.

  Every time the zombies consume our life fluids, I feel my mental link with Flavi deepen. If I allowed the zombies to drain us as much as they’d like to, I’m certain both Flavi’s and my brain would eventually turn to complete mush. We’d become just as dimwitted as the zombies who are torturing us. By injuring Flavi and cutting short the draining process, I’m acting to preserve the integrity of our minds. I’m rescuing us.

  Flavi screams something incomprehensible inside my head again.

  ‘Daisy! I love you!’ I shout back in an attempt to distract him from his pain. It’s best he focus on his guilt for what he knows are his many betrayals of our friendship. I can’t allow him to know I don’t hold any of his actions against him. He needs his guilt. His mental anguish is something better for him to focus on. This physical pain is too great a burden for him to bear.

  Fuck Magnus, stop lying. You hold everything Flavi did against him. The mental pain you’re inflicting on him is torturous. For all you know, it may be worse than the physical torment he’s enduring. Yes, you’re helping to distract him from experiencing the agony of his broken fingers. But, you’re torturing him too. Stop lying to yourself. You may be rescuing your best friend. But you’re making him suffer while you do it.

  I hate to admit to any weakness, but my best friend has wounded me. And I’d be lying if I denied wanting to make him suffer for it.

  When he stole Daisy, Flavi knew he was stealing someone precious from me. She was my dearest treasure. She was the reason I woke every morning and took breath. I was so enamored with her bright spirit and unassuming beauty that I spent every second I could in her arms. Drinking from her breasts, pleasuring her lithe body and laughing at her rebellious bad girl antics were my daily bread. I needed no other nourishment. Flavi knew Daisy was my world, yet he stole her from me anyway.

  My best friend took my woman for himself. It was the ultimate betrayal. He behaved just like one of the powerful Sky Mountain elitists we both despise. He abused his position as the all-powerful farmer. He was the leader everyone on our farm was bound to follow and obey. And he used my respect for him and his position as the dominant male against me. He trusted me to maintain my honor and to submit to his orders by not fighting him when he stole away the woman I loved.

  On moral ground, I have every right to be furiously angry with my best friend. But, legally I have no business complaining about his actions. It was his legal right to do what he did. He wanted Daisy, so he claimed her. With how powerfully he’s lusted for both her and Bella all these years, I must concede the man showed great restraint in not claiming both women as his wives sooner.

  A farmer has the right to take any woman he wants — if she’ll have him. It’s the law. For hundreds of years, it’s been the cornerstone of our society. The dominant, most powerful men attract and claim the strongest, most desirable women. They breed. Society benefits.

  And as much as I want to, I can’t lay all the blame for Daisy’s disappearance from my life at Flavi’s feet. I’m also at fault. I used her as my personal fuck toy, even though she was the woman I wanted to share my life with. I never spoke words of devotion to her once while we were making love. I refused to share with her my deep feeling.

  I fell prey to my desire to impress her with my prowess. I would have been wise to secure her love by asking her to be my wife years ago. But, my pride needed to show her I was capable of making her the queen of the grandest farming estate in all of the rolling hills and valleys. I wanted to honor my intentions for us as a couple by waiting until I’d finished building my grand farming estate to start wooing her. I behaved like a damned fool.

  Perhaps if I’d told her how much I loved and admired her back then, she wouldn’t have fallen so willingly into my best friend’s arms.

  Back then, Daisy was a rebellious fighter who never obeyed anyone. When Flavi ordered her to stay put inside her barn for her own safety, I recall laughing at what I thought was his ridiculous action of ordering her confinement.

  By sundown, I was certain she would stride out of her barn and back inside my stable. We would make love and snicker about how foolish Flavi had been to try and steal her away from me. Our physical connection was so powerful; I was convinced nothing could separate us. I was certain Daisy would make a public declaration of which man she desired most. And I was certain that man would be me.

  But, I was wrong. My best friend was clearly the strong man she chose to cling to. Daisy, the woman who obeyed no one, incomprehensibly turned obedient. She willingly stepped inside the gilded cage Flavi ordered her into. She remained there of her own volition.

  If she had even once chosen to leave her barn or its garden-like outdoor courtyard, I would have fought for her. I would have exercised my legal right to challenge Flavi for the privilege of claiming her body and her heart for myself. I would have destroyed him. Not even my brotherly bond with my best friend would have kept me from taking back the woman I loved.

  But, Daisy’s desire for Flavi was stronger than her desire for me. She stayed inside her barn, and remained there willingly for over two years. She allowed her farmer to pleasure her. And from what I’m learning from Flavi’s thoughts, she finally allowed him to breed her today. His baby is probably growing inside her belly right now.

  Damn him. Damn her. Damn me.

  No. I won’t dishonor myself by raging against Daisy’s choices. She has the right to love whomever she chooses. But, every strained and painfully bulging muscle in my body is furious with her for choosing Flavi over me.

  Chapter 17

  Daisy

  “How dare you two betray us!”

  All I can do is shout at our attackers. I’m helpless to defend Swinea, Pigletta, or myself. I clench and unclench one aching fist and watch as my two hupig companions’ h
ands and feet are tied securely to chairs in the corner of the room. I’m still suspended in mid-air inside Bella’s milking machine.

  The plastic lined metal bowls covering my breasts continue their sucking work of draining my tits of their creamy bounty as I attempt to wriggle free of my restraints. But even though I struggle to gain my freedom, I know it’s no use.

  This milking machine has been designed for safety. No amount of rocking or struggling on my part will release me from its secure grasp. The metal cage of the milking machine clanks as I throw my body up against it. My nipples tingle and the pillows of my breasts squeeze between the pump walls as my milk sprays into the milk collection jugs.

  “How ‘bout a taste of milk, sis?”

  “I’ll pass.” Sarah, our human captor, finishes securing Swinea’s hands to her chair then reaches up to tousle the top of her short platinum blond locks. “These two aren’t going anywhere.”

  Decimus, the young hubull, bends down and grabs a hold of the tube draining my cream into the milk collection jug. He lifts the long hose to his mouth and chugs down gulp after gulp of my sweet cream.

  “Damn. You’re a mighty fine tasting woman, Laura. I’ve always wondered what you taste like. Now I know.”

  At first fear and confusion grip my chest at hearing my old human name. Then red hot anger burns over the entire surface of my body. How does this betrayer of our farm know my old name? Curse him for calling me by a title I’d rather forget. I had no part in the choosing of that name. And I have no desire to suffer through a new set of taunts involving its use.

  At hucow training, I was given the opportunity to choose a new name. I chose to be called Daisy. I chose a name befitting my status as a fine heifer and a proud producer of bountiful quantities of sweet cream. I will never be the weak and often abused Laura again. I choose to be Daisy. I am the proud hucow Daisy, now and forever.

  “My name is Daisy!” I shout in fury.

  “No. Your cow-slave name is Daisy. Your real name is Laura,” my male captor barks. “You are Laura Smalls, and we are liberating you from your servitude here on the farm—”

  “My name is Daisy!” I shout again with determination.

  “Call yourself whatever you want,” my female kidnapper says while striding up to my milking machine. I have to strain my head upwards to look her in the eye. “What my overly dramatic brother is trying to tell you is you are coming with us. We will be delivering you into the hands of the zombie hucow queen—”

  “The queen’s got big plans for you, tasty,” the young hubull says, smacking his lips then dropping the milking machine’s drainage tube on the ground, allowing my precious milk to waste onto the floor.

  “The Sky Mountain elite won’t be drinking any of that milk,” he snarks as he steps one booted foot into the pool of my milk, causing the cream to splash up his leg. Then the brutish hubull laughs as he lifts one steel tipped boot and kicks over the milk jug, sending all my sweet cream spilling onto the ground.

  “Damn it! We could have sold that milk and made a fortune.” The blonde’s face contorts into a scowl. “Stop fucking around and unstrap the hucow. We’ve got to deliver her to the zombie city before sundown.”

  Swinea and Pigletta sit in the corner of the room in complete silence. Both hupigs remain restrained in their plush leather chairs, completely unmoving. I watch as both women observe the argument between our two captors with narrowed-eyes and tightly closed lips. The only motions visible from their direction are the fresh trickles of blood dripping down the center of Pigletta’s cheek and from one corner of Swinea’s lips.

  I imagine their eyes are transfixed on the red glowing light emanating from the back of Bella’s milking machine. When the light switches from red to green, it will signal that Hamma has received our warning message. She and Bella will avoid the zombie trap and rush back home, hopefully in time to save us. But, the light in the back of the milking machine will only change colors once Hamma’s collar has received our message and she sends a reply back in return.

  I had only just been strapped into the milking machine, and our warning message sent when the two attackers stormed into Hamma’s bedroom. Both hupigs had fought hard to defend themselves and me. They’d battled like brave and noble warriors. I’ve never seen hupigs move so swiftly. I’m certain that if both women hadn’t been slowed down by their pregnant bellies, they would have prevailed in battle.

  As I helplessly watch the fresh blood trickle from their stoic faces, I worry for them and their unborn babies. Then a smile lifts the corners of my lips as the harsh red light shuts off and a soft green glow bathes the room’s walls. A message from Hamma sits inside the internal workings of the machine waiting to be read. We are saved.

  “Help me,” the burly hubull smacks the top of my naked ass with one of his oversized hands. My shoulders pull tight as I cringe. His movements behind me are growing rougher by the second. He’s making the milking machine’s entire protective cage rattle with his frustrated efforts to unstrap me. His sister shakes her head briskly then strides behind me to help her brother pull me out of my harness.

  “Stop your struggling,” the hubull scolds as he works to unstrap the back of my leather corset and free me from the security of Bella’s milking machine. I refuse to comply, instead choosing to buck my hips and twist my chest violently from side to side. I know that eventually he and his sister will unstrap me and then try and cart me off to the zombie compound. But, I want to delay that eventuality for as long as possible.

  Swat!

  A thin feminine hand comes down hard on the round flesh of my buttocks. I thrust my hips downward. I try with all my might to escape the heat spreading across my cheeks. But, it’s no use. There’s no escape from the intense sensation. For a moment, I forget myself and stop twisting my upper body. All my attention is focused on the rush of hot blood flooding into my bottom.

  Swat!

  Thin fingers press into my hot flesh again. Then an almost tender palm rubs away the sting before delivering another strike.

  Swat!

  “Damn you!” I scream as the rush of heat spreads downward, stimulating my already moistening pussy lips. I don’t want to be turned on by this. But I am. I’m overwhelmingly aroused by the spanking I’m receiving at the hands of my smooth fingered captor.

  “Hurry up and unstrap her—”

  “I can’t. My fingers are too big to work the buckle and the thin laces—”

  “You mean your fingers are too clumsy to work the buckle. The farmer’s fingers are much larger than yours, and he manages to unstrap Laura from the milking machine without fumbling.”

  Swat! My captor delivers another expert strike.

  Slick arousal drips from my sex and slides over my already hard and throbbing clit. I wiggle my ass to the side to change the stimulation and try and put a stop to the knotting tension squeezing its way into my lower belly. The milking bowls, which are still firmly attached to my breasts are rhythmically sucking. The machine pulls spray after spray of hot milk from my tits. Milk which is being unceremoniously squirted onto the cherry wood floor. My nipples harden in anger as I fume over my wasted milk.

  Swat! Swipe!

  A swirl of pain and pleasure slaps across my bee stung buttocks, and a new flood of arousal slips from my body, drenching my clit. My belly tightens in anticipation. My cunt involuntarily clenches.

  “Fine. You spank her to keep her from struggling so hard against her restraints. I’ll unbuckle her.”

  I feel my kidnappers switch places behind me. Jerking my shoulders and chest wildly, I manage to bang my metal breast bowls against the skeleton of the milking cage. I do my best to keep the dainty fingers of my captor from untying the thin corset straps.

  “Go on. Give her ass a good slap. She’s struggling so hard, I can’t get a secure hold on her restraint buckle.”

  “Unstrapping her isn’t as easy as it looks. Huh, big sis?—”

  “Whatever. Just hurry up and swat her ass before
I swat yours.”

  SMACK!

  With the single brutal pounding of the hubull’s massive hand against my buttocks, I am undone. Thick callused fingers sink into my rippling upper ass cheek and grip my flesh hard. A burst of agony explodes up into my lower back, and I am inexplicably stilled.

  I cease banging my breasts against the cage. I stop struggling. Instead, something deep inside my core breaks loose and my pussy tightens and releases in exquisite bliss. As I hang face down, and my wrists and ankles pull limply against the moist leather of my restraints my clit pulses and my insides grip tight, clutching at nothing.

  My belly convulses, and I scream as the breast pump squeezes out one last spray of milk before releasing it’s vice grip of suction. My captors finish unstrapping my corset, release my breasts from the milking bowls then unbuckle my wrists and ankles and lower me carefully out of the milking cage.

  “That was easy,” my male kidnapper chuckles.

  I whimper.

  My captor’s feminine voice is as soft and comforting as a fluffy pillow as she coos in my ear.

  “There, there, Laura. Don’t fret. You’ll be with your family soon.”

  Chapter 18

  Bella

  The stench of rotting flesh surrounds us like a thick fog. I’m being held upwards by a rolling sea of zombie fingers and hands while my captors continue their trek to the zombie lair. My upper body is held high, and I catch sight of the last glimmers of sunlight as they fall from the sky. I should be grateful to my kidnappers for positioning me with my face to the sun.

  I’ve already escaped from the zombie queen once. I doubt she’ll be granting me the privilege of seeing green grass or the sun ever again. I will likely live the rest of my life underground, serving at her and Arissa’s side. With one last deep intake of breath, I inhale the foulness around us as I luxuriate in the beauty of daylight. By the intensity of the sickening odor enveloping us, I can tell we’ve nearly reached the underground zombie city and its outdoor undead holding pens.