An excited murmur moved through the crowd. A reverse milking was not done every day, and never in front of the customer.
Normally, it wasn’t something a dairy farm could profit from.
No heifer’s milk being more sort after than any other’s, until mine.
“Now, you know what to do, Mandy.” Jarrod pulled over a stool and had me sit in it. My breasts were still tight with milk, but I was no longer bursting and the XXXL suction cup slid over my engorged nipples and clamped at the seal easily enough.
Jo-Anne arrived soon after, her cow-print jumpsuit rolled down to her waist, her tiny breast buds exposed to the long line of customers.
They jeered at her and I didn’t try and hide my smirk at her blush of shame.
She was the new girl and I was the queen of Creamtown.
She shouldn’t even be a hucow, let alone work for the same farm as me.
“Be kind fellas,” Jarrod said waving them into silence again. “You’ll be loving her soon enough.” He maneuvered the milking machine’s other two suction cups onto Jo-Anne’s breasts. The tiny buds didn’t fill the clear plastic domes so he had to press down harder, envelop more of the breast mound, to ensure the seal didn’t leak.
With a dramatic flick of his finger, Jarrod switched the machine on.
I cried out at the brutality of the engine noise and the force of its suction as it pumped my milk and swallowed it down its thick clear tubes.
The customers clustered around excited to watch as my milk was sucked from me, flooded up the clear, twin tubes and forced into Jo-Anne’s nipples.
I almost felt sorry for Jo-Anne, she writhed as my milk surged into her breasts, swelling the small ducts and glands in a merciless, unstoppable flood.
I moaned in relief as my breasts deflated. But in a cruel, painful irony, as quick as the pressure came off my breasts, my relieved relaxation triggered another rush of endorphins and my ducts swelled with milk again. The machine chugged into over-drive struggling to express such a volume of milk at once.
By the second, Jo-Anne’s minuscule breasts inflated to ten times their original size, engorged with my milk.
She moaned like a dairy cow in labor. After a few minutes, her tiny breasts were pendulous and heavy, almost as large and inflamed as mine had been at the start of the day.
When Jarrod unplugged her, her breasts were red and hot to the touch. He helped her to her feet and handed her a tray.
The crowd of customers pushed and shoved each other to be the first to get to my milk from Jo-Anne’s udders.
“She isn’t going anywhere, hold your horses – there’s plenty of cows to come – and milk for everyone. Relax, enjoy the show.” Jarrod guided two over-eager customers to a table and made them sit. “Everyone grab a seat. This will take a good half an hour, to fill the heifers”
Mesmerized by what they were seeing, as if they knew they now belonged to a select, elect few. They did as they were told, everyone finding a seat on a stool, or squashed into one of the bench seats or perched on a table.
Jarrod sealed another deflated heifer’s udders into the two clear suction caps that funneled into a single hose and switched the reverse milker on again.
Her saggy, drained breasts filled quickly with my milk until they were two perfect, swollen globes. The skin pulled so taut, a network of blue veins webbed the surface. Her nipples, a bright, angry red.
When Jarrod unplugged her she winced, but he slapped her hand away when she went too touched her nipples, handed her a tray and made her stand next to Jo-Anne.
And so it went until seven hucows stood with trays, udders heavy and warm, filled with my milk and ready to serve the customers and supply them with what they so desperately wanted.
As the hucow top ups worked their way around the tables, Jarrod unplugged me, checked my milk supply with a practiced squeeze and guided me into the private lounge.
I turned left to go to the stalls for wash-down.
“Not yet, you have a private milking scheduled for noon.”
“You have chosen me?” I said shocked. “But I have already given so much milk today, what if I don’t have enough.”
He handed me three red pills and one blue one.
“Let’s make sure it is, shall we.”
“What’s the blue one for?” I asked gulping down the red lactation stimulators.
“It’s for the pain,” he said.
“What pain?” I dragged my feet to stop him pulling me.
“You’ll see. Hurry up, Mandy, you wouldn’t want to keep Mr. Legendairy waiting, now would you?”
Three: A Private Milking
A thrill went through me.
I took the pill and swallowed it, running to catch up to Jarrod.
“Mr. Legendairy? Of Legendairy Ice-Cream?”
“He’s asked for a special private milking. If you play your cards right we could both make a lot of money. Mandy. I want the best from you. Whatever happens, understood?”
I had never been offered for private milking before, none of Jarrod’s hucows had.
It was a new feature and rumored to be a real treat (especially for untouched hucows) that involved a milking machine and a fuck machine.
My tits and pussy leaked at the thought.
The sound of machines warming up already vibrated down the hall as Jarrod guided me to the private milking stall.
Mr. Legendairy and his posse were already seated. He looked like he had stepped out of a magazine, from his gold-tipped shoes to his ivory cane. Nowhere in the dairy belt was there a hucow farm, or rancher, more rich or famous. His hucows wore studded gold and diamond nose rings and bathed in cream of other hucows.
And here the man himself stood in front of me wanting to watch me milked.
Jarrod lead me into the milking room and push me down onto the grated stall floor and set to work preparing the machines.
He adjusted the fuck machine first, setting the dial a little above mid-way and unfurled the mechanical cock’s arm to test the distance between it and my pussy.
Once he saw it would reach he got me to sit up and clamped the milking machines suction caps onto my breasts for the third time that day.
I blushed. It was so embarrassing for me to be watched as I was milked. I barely breathed when I saw the fuck machine. Its condom-wrapped mechanical cock thrust the air faster and slower as Jarrod adjusted the speed dial.
The customers sat in their chairs. Mr. Legendairy scrolled through his phone, his posture that of a man who neither cared nor didn’t, about those around him or where he was.
Jarrod scrunched his ice-cream man’s hat into a ball and waited.
“You may begin,” Mr. Legendairy said several minutes later. He pocketed his phone and lit his cigar.
My nipples stung as Jarrod flipped the switch and the strong pressure sucked them down into the hoses, way passed the suction cups. This was why I detested industrial milkers. The suction was intense and unrelenting.
I wanted to cry out and tell him it was on too strong, but I caught his eye and I knew that everything was on the line here. I had to prove to the world today that Creamtown could produce, and offer services, on par with the big dairy farms.
I dared not even grimace, Jarod held my gaze, the intensity of his look warned me not to breathe a sigh of discomfort.
I feigned a moan of pleasure and arched my back.
Mr. Legendairy shifted in his chair, I had his full attention now, and I liked it.
A thrill went through me.
Mr. Legendairy’s posse whispered to each other behind hand-cupped mouths, pointing at the unused fuck machine, or remarking on the thick, frothy milk that splashed down the tubes in such large, thick quantities.
Mr. Legendairy puffed on his cigar, he could have been at the movies or his grandchild’s dance recital.
I almost died of shame when Jarrod flipped up my skirt and displayed my shaved, untouched pussy to the entire room.
I couldn’t do anything abo
ut it.
Not unless I wanted Creamtown’s reputation to suffer.
Jarrod guided the mechanical cock to the entrance of my sex. I felt the smooth cold plastic against my pussy lips and bit my lip, tense with expectation.
I didn’t have to wait long.
With a flip of a switch the machine lurched into life and speared my never-before breached pussy. Again and again it pistoned, excreting some sort of lubricant to ease its slide.
The fucking machine revved faster and caught me off guard, with its sudden changes in rhythm, sometimes plunging hard and fast, sometimes slow and deep.
My own pussy started to gush with its own arousal after several pumps.
The stimulation released my milk in a flood of white and coated the clear suction cups.
My moans were no longer for show, or pretense.
I felt good, my knees trembling, my cheeks burnt with shame because fucking was meant to be private. But I was a cow now, I reminded myself.
Cows didn’t need privacy.
My milk had come back in twice as hard, the force of my let down threatening to break the suction-cup seals.
At the same time Jarrod rearranged the plastic caps over both engorged breasts, I wiggled back onto the fuck machine to take it deeper.
Suddenly, the suction cups blew off slapping Jarrod square in the face and knocking him out.
He lay unconscious as my breasts became twin geysers of milk, spirting across the room, I struggled to recover them with the milking machine but the stream was too strong. I turned to the door desperate to call for help and fire-hosed milk all over Mr. Legendairy and his posse.
My udders would not stop gushing. The men surrounding me would not help, each thirsted for a warm, creamy treat fresh from the source. Now, they had me, unchaperoned, all to themselves.
I beat them off me as best I could, but somehow, the fuck machine had locked onto my pussy and there was no escape until after orgasm. Its sensors set to release me only after it detected the muscle spasms of climax.
“Stop wasting milk, Heifer!” Jarrod struggled to his knees, his eye was black and his brain addled. “No free showers. No free showers!” he muttered to himself and collapsed again.
“I can’t get the cups back on!” My voice came in gasps as the fucking machine revved up, fucking me harder thinking my squirms were ones of climax.
“Jarrod, help me!”
Mr. Legendairy hit the kill switch.
The entire room dripped, drenched ceiling to floor in my milk, it leaked off the ceiling and down the walls.
Mr. Legendairy was covered in it; hair plastered to his face, Armani shirt stuck to his skin. He caught a bead of milk from my nipple with his thumb and tasted it.
Is dark eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts.
“I am so sorry.” I couldn’t look at him anymore. I slumped down. My nipples were on fire from the force of the milk that only now became to subside. My cheeks from shame.
My breasts hung empty and flat through the holes in the grated floor.
I lay in shame overwhelmed, waiting to be sent to the stables for the day in punishment.
Jarrod got to his feet, holding his head.
“I’ll pay one million dollars for her,” Mr. Legendairy told him.
I felt my milk come in with the rush of joy. My empty udders swelled and my red-raw nipples tingled ready to express again. The skin was stretched to bursting, more than ever before. The thin, creamy skin holding pints of milk.
I sat up, expecting to share my feeling of joy with Jarrod.
Jarrod scowled, his eye an angry red.
“My finest heifer is not for sale,” Jarrod said. He turned the fuck machine back on and guided my pussy onto it.
Within a few pumps I erupted in orgasm, my milk splashed down through the already soaked grates and pooled in the milk vats below.
“Five million, it is my final offer,” Mr. Legendairy took out his checkbook.
My teats were tender and throbbed from the thought alone.
Ice-Cream heifers were amongst the most highly sort after hucows of the dairy belt. That I could be one of them after my first private milking, was unheard of.
The mechanical cock slid out of me and folded back into its place on the side of the machine.
“No deal,” Jarrod said. “I am sorry to have wasted your time, sir. But if you want to taste more of her, she will be stabled at Creamtown Ice-Cream Parlor.
“I can’t believe you turned him down, Jarrod,” I said when Mr. Legendairy had stormed out. “You don’t even have an ice-creamery. Why would Mr. Legendairy want to pay so much for me and why would you turn him down?”
“Not yet.” Jarrod helped me to my feet. “But when I do you will be my first flavor.”
“As to why the dairy boss was willing to pay so much for you.” He expressed a drop of my milk and held it up to me on the tip of his finger. “Because your milk, Mandy, tastes like an orgasm and there isn’t another Ice-Creamery in the world with that particular flavor.”
About the Author
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Credits
Cover photograph free to use from pixabay
Cover design by Jaymee Pizzey
Copyright
MAIDS OF CREAMTOWN
A Hucow Fantasy
Copyright ©2016 Jaymee Pizzey
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of Jaymee Pizzey, author.
Maids of CREAMTOWN (Taboo Hucow fantasy, Hucow Farm, Hucow submission, Forbidden Adult Feeding and Nursing Erotica): (Creamy Hucow short story erotica) Page 2