Unprotected Zombie Dairy: A BDSM Menage

by Miranda Cougar

  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.

  One shoulder drops as another lifts high. Then a hand holding up my hip gives way while thin fingers clutching my ankles turn to the side. I am being lowered to the ground. Softly, the rubber soles of my shoes make contact with the thick grassy earth. Strong fingers grasp my wrists.

  My zombie captors’ heads snap to the right with one quick movement. I watch tight-lipped as a bone-faced corpse stumbles toward us. The pitifully tiny thing has escaped her holding pen and is wandering the hillside. By the decayed looks of her, she was probably one of the first hucows to lose her teeth and turn undead.

  Her toothless jaws open and close and her hollow eyes betray her ravenous hunger. She alone is the source of the stomach-turning odor blanketing the hillside. Her flesh is so rotten it hangs from her body in loose ropes. She only has a few matted strings of long brown hair left.

  My zombie captors remain silent, instead choosing to hold up their hands to her in a stop-sign signal. She doesn’t acknowledge the gesture or even pause her tottering toward us. There is nothing left of her consciousness. She can’t even hear the zombie hive mind any longer. She is dangerous and must be put down. I know what will happen next. I want to turn away. But, I force myself to bear witness to the action the zombies surrounding me take.

  “Laurie,” they all speak in calm unison. Then one strikingly beautiful redhead pulls a dagger from her waist harness while all the zombies, except the two holding my wrists, rush up to Laurie as a group. The knife bearing leader pierces the thin walking corpse in one sunken eye, and her gray, lifeless body tumbles to the green earth. An
innocent has fallen, I remind myself. Laurie was an innocent young victim of some greedy man’s quest for immortality.

  I clench my eyelids shut and inhale the cool evening air promising myself the tears stinging my eyes aren’t wasted. The zombie transformation has corrupted the minds of every one of the women in the zombie horde, even Arissa, and the queen. They are all driven to constantly feed off the bodies of men and transform new women into zombie hucows, continuing the brutal cycle of lost innocence and ruined lives.

  Both Hamma and I hold the cure from zombieism inside our bodies. Before we left the farm to rescue Flavius and Magnus, we both swallowed the butterscotch candies that will force our bodies to lactate and fill our breasts full of the milky cure. My wish is that Hamma hasn’t truly betrayed me by turning me over to these zombies. I can only hope that her seeming betrayal was simply a ruse to get us inside the zombie compound where we can deliver the cure to the women who need it desperately.

  ***

  “Show! Show! Show! Show!” The roaring chants bounce off the gray metal walls and echo inside my head. I walk directly behind Hamma, stepping one foot at a time down the long flight of stairs leading into the zombie city. Each strong woman standing at my side holds onto my wrists securely, making sure I don’t fall and injure myself or try to turn around and run away.

  The entrance to the zombie city is as dark and foreboding as I remember. Walking down this stairwell, I feel like I’m being lowered into a tall, thin metal box. I think the entire underground city used to be a bunker of some type. A secret refuge built to house noble families in case of emergency. And I’m certain this metal entryway was designed to be cramped and difficult to traverse to prevent intruders from easily attacking the occupants of this underground sanctuary.

  We are now moving into a wide, short-ceilinged concrete room. No bright rays of golden sunshine here. Only gray concrete walls lit by the harsh glow of green, yellow, red and purple neon lights. This unnatural gloom must be what it feels like to walk through the human Neon City. Metal, concrete, and darkness contrasts with harsh light. I imagine the only difference between this place and the human city is the foggy blue glow of the eyes of my zombie jailers.

  Brilliant white light blinds my squinting eyes. I blink until my vision adjusts. My zombie captors fully open the thick metal doors in front of us and grant me entrance into what I suppose was once a grand ballroom meant to house lavish parties for the country’s elite. Now it’s the massive room where the zombie queen holds court. The air inside this grand room has a fresh, faintly floral scent. There are only beautiful, well-maintained zombies inside here. The rotting horror shows are all kept outside in their barn-like pens.

  Arissa, my cousin and the zombie queen’s second in the command stands just inside the tall doors in expectation of my arrival. She’s the only zombie other than the queen who still has her full mental faculties. Her consciousness is not a part of the zombie hive mind. Instead, she has the ability to control the hive mind, like the queen does. And like I also did, before Hamma had me captured one morning while I was outside of these city walls eating my grassy breakfast on one of the area’s lush green meadows.

  By kidnapping me, Hamma saved me from the life Arissa leads. She saved me from being compelled to do horrific things to innocent people. If I hadn’t been rescued, I’m certain I’d still be a ravenous predator just like Arissa still is. I was reborn the day Hamma’s scientist friends captured me and forcibly transformed me from a zombie back into a human three years ago. I hope the cure hidden inside my full milky breasts can rescue Arissa from this life of cruelty as well.

  “Take her into the holding room and bind one of her hands to her husband,” Arissa orders the zombies who are still securely holding onto my wrists. They tug me sharply to the side before abruptly stopping and turning us around to face Arissa again. She speaks once more, but I can barely make out her words because of the roaring sound of the crowd of thousands of zombies shouting “Show! Show! Show!” in unison. Arissa holds up one hand in a stop-sign signal and the shouting crowd quiets immediately. Even the zombies who cannot see her gesture silence themselves. Her control over the every member of the hive mind is that powerful.

  “The queen wants Bella’s mind bound to her husband and his mate. She wants them all to become a single-minded herd. Our runaway sister will be easier to control that way.”

  I don’t know why Arissa bothers to explain herself. The zombies in the horde require no explanation of intent. They will do whatever she orders without question. Her words must be for me. She must want me to know what the queen has planned for me. She’s trying to help me. She still remembers me. She’s still my cousin. My heart burns with hope at the thought that my last living relative is still alive inside that zombie body of hers. If she’s still in there, she can be rescued as I was.

  “Come to think of it, don’t tie her hand to her husband,” Arissa smirks. “Unbind her husband’s mate and bring both him and Bella up to the stage. Your sisters want a show, and I intend to give them one.”

  My heart burns hotter, but no longer with hope. A moment ago when she explained the queen’s plans, I thought Arissa was trying to rescue me. But, that was a foolish and incorrect assumption. My cousin wasn’t trying to save me. She was simply playing a cruel game with my emotions. She was toying with me the way a cat does with its prey before it spears it with its claws then tears the unlucky animal apart.

  She explained the queen’s plan because she wants me to experience the suffering of knowing what my ultimate fate will be. I am to become food for her majesty. I am to become part of a mindless herd. But first, I am to be humiliated by putting on a show with Magnus for the entertainment of entire zombie horde.

  “Please, Arissa, don’t do this,” I beg knowing full well what sort of show these zombies want to see.

  “Either you put on a show with Magnus, or your husband does. It’s your choice.” A devious smile decorates my cousin’s porcelain face as she turns her full mane of golden blonde hair to me and begins her stride toward the ballroom stage. “Follow me, Hamma,” Arissa waves one hand, her jovial tone turning serious. “You’ve earned your audience with our queen.”

  My zombie captors march me across the enormous hall. With every unwilling step forward, my core clenches involuntarily. Fresh arousal drips out of my body coating my inner thighs in preparation of what I know is to come. I consider my choice. I can either submit to being penetrated by my husband’s best friend, or I can watch as Flavius submits to being pounded by the beast.

  Chapter 19

  Daisy

  “You’d better pray she’s still breathing.”

  Hot blood rushes to my face, and my entire body shakes as my female captor smacks her brother on the arm.

  “Relax, sis. She’s still alive. Dead women don’t snore.”

  I exhale a short snort for effect to prove I’m alive, but keep my eyes softly shut and allow my body to hang limply atop my captor’s muscular frame. I pretend to still be unconscious. Although, I’ve been awake and draped over my kidnapper’s broad shoulder for several minutes now. My wrists and ankles are bound together. My injured fingers throb from the pressure my wrist restraints place on the already sore joints. I won’t be fighting my way out of these restraints. They’re bound too tightly.

  Thin fingers fist my hair and pull my head upright. I allow my eyes to tug half open and a river of drool to pour from my sloppily open mouth.

  “She may still be alive, but she’s so fucking drugged she looks brain dead. If the zombie queen doesn't pay us for her, I’m going to strangle you—”

  “Stop acting like this is all my fault—”

  “It is your fault. I never gave you permission to drug her—”

  “Slapping her ass with that quick acting sedative was the only way she was going to calm down enough for us to unstrap her from her milking machine and drag her out of the farmhouse. Do you think we could have just carried her off the farm kicking and screaming and
no one would have stopped us?”

  “We wouldn’t have had to carry her off at all if you had bothered to follow our plan. The plan we’ve been working to perfect for over a year, I might add. When you blew up the farm gates, you put our scheme to kidnap the hucow in jeopardy—”

  “Don’t call her that. Her name is Laura. And we didn’t kidnap her. We liberated her from her enslavement on the farm. The farmer kept her locked in that barn and milked her every day as an animal. Only, she’s not an animal. Laura’s a beautiful human being, and she deserves better than to be used like that. POWER TO THE HUMAN RESISTANCE!”

  “You’re in love with the cash cow. How idiotic!”

  A rush of wind flies past my exposed ass. My female kidnapper strikes her brother on the shoulder this time. It feels as through her fist lands mere millimeters shy of punching me in the hip. My body shakes then slips downward from the force of her punch on the young hubull’s arm. But, with both speed and skill, the brawny man catches me and pulls my body back up to rest securely on his shoulder again.

  “I’m not in love. I simply believe someone as wonderful as Laura deserves to live free of the oppression of the farming system. She’s already had such a hard life. She should get to live out the rest of her years in freedom. …Did you know she grew up an orphan?”

  “An orphan…how sad. Where did you read that? No, don’t tell me. I’ll bet it was in one of your hucow fanboy magazines.”

  “Hucow Celebrity Monthly is an informative journal. You should read it some time. You’d learn a lot about the oppressive farming system and how the human resistance is battling to liberate us all from tyranny.”

  “Damn it, little brother. You’ve let those human resistance nut jobs fuck up your head. You got a lot of innocent people killed back on the farm. Not everyone who perished in your impromptu explosions was an elitist, you know. You killed ponyboys and humans too. You killed our friends. And I’m not sure I can ever fully forgive you for it.”