To one side, Octavia sat on a squat milking stool in pinny and mop cap, just as if she had been preparing to milk a real cow. For three weeks they had been repeating the routine described in the instructions. For two hours each morning and two hours each afternoon, the two girls would shut themselves in the old pigsty. Polly would go first, with Octavia massaging her dangling breasts for a half-hour timed by an old clock which they had installed for the purpose. Octavia’s turn would follow. She would be naked as, even after three years together, Polly found it hard to persuade her to wear any underwear. Once complete, both girls would weigh their breasts, as the instructions demanded, and Octavia would make a careful note of the measurements. By then, both girls would be stiff-nippled and thoroughly aroused. Sex usually followed.
Since they had started, each of Polly’s breasts had increased in weight by close to a pound, compared with four ounces or so for Octavia’s. Yet in the last few days there had been a marked upturn in the rate of weight increase, and Polly now felt an unfamiliar sensation in her breasts.
‘I think it’s going to happen today,’ she said softly as Octavia’s hands closed on her breast.
Octavia didn’t reply, but began to kneed the plump globe of flesh with what had become a practised motion. Polly gave a little moan at the feel of it, then shut her eyes to the pleasure of having her breast massaged. For a full twenty minutes Octavia continued to knead, working her hands down the fat of the breast and then on to the nipple, which stood out, big and stiff. Polly was moaning deep in her throat, and Octavia’s thoughts had begun to turn to the coming pleasures of her lover’s embrace when she realised that her fingers were damp.
Ducking quickly down, she peered at Polly’s erect nipple. From the very tip hung a single bead of pale fluid – milk.
3
1900
Lias Slater put his eye to the gap in the pigsty wall. Within, Polly Endicott was naked but for a pair of ample drawers that were nevertheless taut across her yet more ample bottom. She was kneeling, raised on her fingertips, as Octavia removed the copper pail from the floor. His cock was in his hand, and he had been stroking it as he watched Octavia milk Polly. Simply the sight of the girl’s huge breasts would have been enough to give him an erection, but the additional pleasure of seeing the little jets of white fluid spurt forth as she was milked produced an extra thrill that was as rude as it was sexual.
Both girls were in milk, and capable of producing just over a half-gallon a day between them. It had been that way for almost two years, since they had managed to bring Octavia into production. Now it was a familiar routine. Each morning and each evening, both girls would have heavy swollen breasts and be eager to go to the milking shed. Inside, they would lock the door and prepare themselves. The girl who was to be milked first, jokingly referred to as the cow, would strip to her drawers while the other donned a pinny. Both would wash and the cow would get on all fours with her breasts hanging over the squat copper pail. The milk maid would then go about her business, using both hands to squeeze the breast and teat with what had become a practised motion. The milk now came quickly, and Octavia was generally done within twenty minutes, Polly near a half-hour.
The process invariably left the girls aroused and, once the milk had been placed safely to the side, they would have sex. Lias knew this full well, as his watching had become as familiar a routine as the girls’ milking. Octavia knew, and would always endeavour to provide a fine display for his benefit. Polly didn’t, which added considerably to the enjoyment of watching her.
Polly was breathing heavily. Her big, distended nipple was wet with milk, and each time Octavia touched it she would moan deep in her throat. The milk had began to run less freely, and Lias smacked his lips in anticipation of the coming sex. For some reason, Polly was even more aroused than usual, and he was sure the display would be a good one.
Octavia gave the breast she was working on a final squeeze and declared Polly done. Lias continued to nurse his cock as the girls tidied up. They hugged, kissed each other’s sore breasts, then kissed mouth to mouth. Usually it was Polly who controlled the sex, but now Octavia began to push her friend down. Polly responded, allowing herself to be put in a kneeling position with her bottom thrust out directly towards Lias’s peephole. Thanking Octavia silently, he began to pull more firmly at his cock.
Polly’s drawers were taut across her seat, the chubby buttocks bulging the cotton out in the most provocative manner. They were also taut on her sex, with the lips showing in clear outline and a damp patch over the vagina. Octavia knelt and stroked her lover’s bottom, caressing the cheeks with slow, circular motions punctuated by gentle smacks. Polly moaned and stuck her bottom out wantonly in response. The movement put yet more strain on the thin cotton.
Lias swallowed hard at the sight. Octavia began to unbutton Polly’s drawers and Lias smacked his lips in anticipation. It was done slowly, each button popped open to reveal a little more flesh and, as the flesh was revealed, Octavia would kiss it. Inch by inch the magnificence of Polly’s bottom was revealed, as Lias’s cock grew ever stiffer in his hand. At last the whole glorious orb was bare, the two milk-white cheeks thrust out, plump and proud and deliciously naked. Polly’s knees were well spread, revealing every detail of her cleft and the swollen lips of her sex. There was plenty of hair, yet her anus was visible; pink, wrinkled and somewhat everted in her excitement. Her sex was equally exposed, the lips ripe and well parted to reveal the damp centre and the dark spot of a vagina all too obviously ready for penetration.
Lias began to stroke his erection with a steady, easy rhythm. He knew he could come whenever he wanted, but as long as Octavia and Polly continued to play he was content to hold back. Polly’s rear view was always good to come over, and he knew that Octavia could be relied on not to get in the way. Sure enough, when she had finished kissing her lover’s bottom, she slid beneath her and opened her own thighs wide beneath Polly’s head. Tilting her head back, she gave Lias a wink and then reached up to take hold of Polly’s bottom and spread the cheeks more widely still. Lias watched as Polly began to lick Octavia and Octavia in turn explored Polly’s body with her fingers, tickling the cunt and even the anus until he felt he would burst.
Polly allowed her knees to slide apart, lowering her sex into Octavia’s face. As Octavia buried her face in Polly’s sex, Lias knew that he could wait no longer. Gripping his erection more firmly, he began to tug harder, only to stop suddenly at the sound of the gate latch.
‘I say, is there anybody at home?’ a voice called out – a nasal, arrogant voice that he knew belonged to Jervis Maray.
Lias hastily jammed his erection back within his trousers.
‘Over here, sir,’ he called as he struggled with his fly buttons. ‘I’ll be right there, sir.’
Emerging from behind the old sty, he found both Jervis Maray and the old squire. They stood immediately inside the gate, looking distastefully at the sea of mud and dung that covered the yard.
‘Morning, Squire; morning, Mr Jervis,’ Lias said. ‘And what can I do for you?’
‘We have come to inspect the milk production process,’ Jervis answered. ‘I trust the state of this yard is not indicative of the conditions under which it is produced?’
‘Oh, no, Mr Jervis,’ Lias answered. ‘Polly keeps the sty scrubbed clean, she does, and the pigs are kept over in the new sty.’
‘I am glad to hear it, Slater,’ the squire said. ‘Are Polly and Octavia to hand?’
‘They’re just finishing off,’ Lias answered, then called out. ‘Octavia, Polly: visitors.’
There was a pause, following which the girls emerged from the sty, somewhat flustered but decently dressed.
‘Is something the matter?’ Polly asked at the sight of the two men.
‘We have simply come to make an inspection,’ the squire replied, ‘and to suggest refinements to the process.’
‘What’s the matter with it?’ Octavia asked. ‘We work as best we can.’
&
nbsp; ‘You are doing sterling work, my dears, sterling work,’ Archibald Maray assured them. ‘No, it is simply that my condition, while stable, has not improved. I am eager to ensure that the collection process is being run to its greatest efficiency.’
‘Everything’s clean, sir,’ Polly answered. ‘And we give all we can make.’
‘I am sure you do, my dear, I am sure you do,’ he continued. ‘It is simply that Dr Appleby has ordered an extension to my regime.’
‘An extension?’ Octavia queried.
‘Yes, indeed,’ he answered. ‘He now feels that the complaint may be a direct result of the ingestion of cow’s milk, and insists that I consume only dairy products made from human milk. Moreover, he fears that my son is likely to suffer from the same complaint in later life and that an identical regime is necessary to forestall this.’
‘I’d have thought two quarts a day was plenty enough,’ Lias supplied, ‘even for the two of you.’
‘Sadly, no,’ Archibald answered, ‘for I am determined that there should be no cow’s milk products whatsoever in the house, for fear of accidental ingestion.’
‘And the pay’ll be the same?’ Lias asked.
‘Certainly,’ the squire answered, ‘although we must evolve some mutually satisfactory arrangement for the price of cream, butter and cheese.’
‘Cheese?’ Polly demanded.
‘Certainly, my dear,’ he replied. ‘I am accustomed to two varieties; the hard and the blue-veined.’
‘Well, I . . .’ Polly began.
‘Do not worry,’ he broke in, ‘full and detailed instructions will be supplied.’
‘Oh, I can make cheese,’ she assured him, ‘even the veined sort, but it takes a lot of milk.’
‘Then we must do our best to ensure an increase in production,’ he went on. ‘Also, there is the matter of overseeing. While the photographic plates you so kindly allowed to be taken are excellent, Dr Appleby feels that a closer supervision is needed in order to ensure the most efficacious results.’
‘You mean you want someone to watch?’ Polly demanded.
‘Exactly so, my dear,’ he answered.
‘Well, I don’t hardly think that’s decent,’ she replied. ‘I mean what with us being next to naked and all.’
‘Exactly, my dear,’ he agreed, ‘and that is why I propose to undertake the task myself, despite many other important callings on my time. With a man of my age and rank, there can be no question of impropriety.’
‘That’s true enough,’ Lias said quickly, sensing Polly’s disapproval and calculating the additional income that the proposed changes might bring.
Shortly after dawn on the following day, Octavia stood watching the wain depart in the direction of Ermecombe. Lias and Polly were in it, still talking animatedly about the previous day’s proposals. Lias was now intent on a journey to Exeter, where he would purchase the new equipment needed. Polly, meanwhile, would be attempting to recruit one or more of the better-endowed local girls to help with the milk production.
That left Octavia with the day to herself and nothing to do until Polly returned for the evening milking. Normally she enjoyed solitude, and might have taken herself up on to the high moor, gone to swim in one of the pools along the Erme, or simply stripped naked in her room and spent an idle day of masturbation. Now, none of these choices appealed to her.
Since they had begun to provide milk for Squire Maray, Polly had been insistent in her warnings against his son. The descriptions of his wickedness had done more to intrigue than repel, yet as he never visited the farm he had remained no more than an interesting name. Now his father had told him about the milking and he had visited, Octavia’s interest had turned to fascination.
Where Polly had sought to disgust Octavia with descriptions of his immorality, she had only succeeded in making him seem interesting in comparison with more staid people whose morality Octavia had never understood in the first place. Now he proved not only to be interesting, but tall, handsome and decidedly dashing. He had also treated her with courtesy, or at least a greater courtesy than he had shown Lias or Polly. Yet there was a stern manner that went with that courtesy, a manner that thrilled her and reminded her of being told by Lias to do the sort of thing that Polly considered rude. Finally, he had seemed unable to take his eyes away from her chest.
Now, she had an excuse to see him. Lias had intended to take the milk to Kerslake in the morning, as he usually did. This would have involved a detour of some miles, and she had volunteered to carry it over herself.
The direct way to Kerslake lay across the open moor, which was damp and fresh with morning dew. Octavia walked fast and presently the rear of Kerslake Manor came into view. Behind the main building, a squat mass of grey moorstone, several lesser structures formed an open yard. It was this she made for, knocking on a plain door that she judged to belong to the kitchen. The door was opened by Becky Arrish, Mrs Arrish’s second oldest daughter, who worked as tweenie maid for the Marays.
‘I’ve a delivery for Mr Jervis Maray,’ Octavia announced. ‘Personal.’
Becky curtseyed and disappeared within, leaving Octavia wondering how much the maid might have guessed. Presently Becky returned, accompanied by Jervis himself. Octavia’s heart gave a skip at the sight of him.
‘Ah, ha!’ he declared, eyeing her with undisguised relish. ‘Well, this is an improvement on old Slater. Becky, run along and take Miss Challacombe’s churn to the pantry. I shall be in the library and am not to be disturbed. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Becky said quickly and left in a swirl of skirts and petticoats.
Octavia put the churn in the pantry and followed Jervis into the library. This was a tall, square room with high, arched windows on two sides and rank upon rank of books on the others. Various display cabinets stood about, showing collections of stuffed birds, eggs, china, silverware and so forth. A large rug of dark, rich colours occupied the centre of the room, surrounded by four well-stuffed armchairs. Octavia looked around in awe.
‘Let’s see them, then,’ Jervis ordered suddenly. ‘Come on, girl, out they come.’
‘Sorry, sir?’ Octavia questioned.
‘Your tits, girl,’ Jervis snapped. ‘The source of all this fine fresh milk. Come on, girl, you needn’t be shy with me; get them out.’
Although surprised by the suddenness of his demand, Octavia hastened to obey, struggling with the strings of her bodice to liberate her breasts. As she pulled the sides open they burst free, big, pink and unfettered by underwear. Jervis gave his moustache a thoughtful twirl and moistened his lips.
‘Now put your hands on your head and stick them out,’ he ordered.
She did as she was told, pushing her breasts out as far as possible so that they stood proud from the dishevelled edges of her dress. Again he licked his lips and took a step closer, his eyes all the while locked on her naked chest.
‘Bloody fine,’ he said, ‘big and firm, nips like claret corks.’
She shivered as his hands took her breasts, cupping them to feel their weight. He squeezed them, then bounced them in his hands and slapped the undersides. His fingers felt smooth but strong, somehow cruel. She sighed, then moaned as he flicked a nipple with his thumb.
‘Quite the little whore, aren’t you?’ he said thoughtfully.
Octavia nodded uncertainly, not understanding him but happy to have her breasts fondled in such a delightful way. He continued to explore her, enjoying her breasts as if they were his property, and she felt herself come quickly on heat. The urge to put her hands to his crotch and free his cock was strong, yet she hesitated, unsure whether his interest in her breasts was casual or carnal. Then, just as it was becoming impossible to resist, he pulled away and stood back.
‘Now strip,’ he ordered, ‘but not bare: just down to your corset and stockings. I like my meat to be nicely framed.’
He sat back in an armchair as Octavia began to undress. As she peeled her dress off, he pulled out his cock, qui
te casually. Now sure that he wanted sex, she began to strip more hurriedly, eager for the feel of his cock in her mouth, which she felt sure was what he intended.
‘No, no,’ Jervis grated. ‘Slowly, tease with it.’
Octavia paused, uncertain as to what he meant. Lias liked her bare body, as did Polly, but neither had ever suggested taking her clothes off slowly. Hoping to please, she began to push her dress down over her corset. This was a tight, waist-pinching design that left her breasts exposed and covered only the upper slopes of her hips. Normally she would not have troubled, despite Polly’s constant rebukes for wearing no underclothes, but she was now glad that she had, as Jervis was clearly keen on corsetry.
‘Very pretty,’ he remarked, ‘but no, no further like that. Turn; let me see the cloth come down over that fat little backside. I do like to see a well-filled pair of drawers.’
Octavia hesitated. She did not wish to disappoint him in his desire to see the seat of her drawers, yet she had no choice. She was bare below the waist except for knee-stockings. Turning slowly, she took a firm grip on her dress.
‘No, no,’ he said thickly. ‘Push your bottom out. Yes, that’s right, right out. Now peel the dress down slowly.’
Octavia obeyed, pushing her bottom out towards him and easing the dress slowly down over her hips to reveal her naked bottom.
‘No drawers, eh?’ he drawled as her lack of underwear became apparent. ‘Now bend deep, so that I can see your cunt as your dress comes down. Yes, that’s my girl. By God, but you’ve a fine arse.’
She lowered the dress, aware of his eyes on her bottom and the rear pouch of her sex as she exposed herself. His cock was hard in his hand, making his lust for her obvious. It was longer than Lias’s, if less thick, also smoother and very straight. With the thought of taking it in her mouth, she smiled, then let the dress drop to the floor and stepped out of it, leaving herself as he had demanded, naked but for corset and stockings.
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