Worse, I realized that I was becoming aroused. Within just a few minutes, my pussy got wet. I needed to climax. Tightening my fingers and wrists, I squirmed around, helpless. The door opened and closed again. I lifted my head, and I looked up to see Oliver standing there.
"Hey there, little cow. How are you feeling?"
For once, I didn't try to answer. Any attempt at human speech would only prove embarrassing.
He came up to me, and he stroked his fingers over my body. He squeezed my breasts, making them spurt out even more milk.
He came up behind me, and he reached for my pussy. He stroked me. "Look at that. You are already really wet. I thought it was going to take a couple more sessions. I guess not."
Glowering at him, I shook my head. It was the only way I could communicate.
Of course, he simply laughed at me. As far as he was concerned, this was funny. I was a spoiled little brat, so I deserved this and so much more.
"Since you're getting horny, I bet you want me to use you, don't you? I bet you're hoping that I'm going to fuck you. Because you know, you are just a milk machine. You're also going to be used. There are lots of women and men out there who would love to pet a horny little cow. They like to suckle from your breasts, they like to use you."
No, no, no!
He touched me some more, fingering me. Before long, I couldn't take it. And yet, there was nothing I could do! My body screamed out for release, but I was helpless, trapped.
"Of course, I could do it. But you're going to have to ask. You have to ask like a good little cow." He sauntered back up in front of me, and he looked down into my eyes. Blinking, I remembered how it felt to surrender as a dog. Would it be the same if I started to act like a cow?
I held out for several more seconds, clinging to my humanity in my independence. But then, I bowed my head down, and I made my decision. I mooed like a stupid animal. At the same time, I bobbed my head down and up.
Then he grabbed my chin, and he looked right into my eyes. "Good," he said.
Oliver came around, he grabbed my hips, and he dropped his pants so he could use me. He slid into me, he pumped me, and he took me, claiming me. Every thrust, every little hint of friction made me desperate for more. Not only that, I could feel the flow of milk increase exponentially. My body was pumping it out. I couldn't stop. I became little more than a machine to be used. Every hole belonged to these people.
Pumping me, he pushed forward and pulled back, thrusting harder and faster. I came quickly, my pussy tightening around his shaft, but he wasn't done with me. No, he wanted more. He wanted so much more.
Oliver showed me what it meant to be an animal. I stopped thinking, I stopped having opinions, and I stopped worrying. For the first time, I realized that I wasn't going to be able to get out of here. They could keep me leashed and collared, shackled and helpless. They could fence me in.
Burying his shaft deep within me, he stopped for a moment. He grabbed my hair, he pulled my head back, and he whispered, "What does the cow say?”
“Mooooooo!” I cried out.
He pumped me again, thrusting deep. And I couldn't help myself. I couldn't stop myself. I climaxed just as he finished with me, his cock pulsating with his orgasm. This wasn't the first time he'd use me, but it was the first time he truly made me understand what it meant to be a dumb animal, down on my hands and knees, ready to be used at any moment.
And that's how I became a girl cow. That's how I was transformed and taken for the very first time. Since then, I haven't tried to think, and I haven't tried to escape. I know my place. I'm staying here in the facility like a good girl. I eat my grass, I get milked, and I know that I can be used in any moment because this is my life now.
The End
Doggie Discipline
I love costume parties.
Yes, there is the joy of picking out a new ensemble and figuring what will have the greatest effect on the guys and girls around me, but there's something else. There's something magical about letting loose. At your standard party, you get to play around and be with your friends. Most people think a costume party should be about hiding your identity. They're wrong. Costume parties are about revealing who you really are. You put on different clothing to become who you really are.
Tonight, I'm a sexy schoolgirl.
Even though I graduated last year, I still adore the tartan skirt and the tight blouse. It shows off my midriff and my perfect cleavage. Tonight, when I arrive, everyone's going to look at me. This time, it won't be about my money, my influence, or my name. Tonight is all about sex appeal.
I'm going to see Jacob, I'm going to twist him around my little finger, and it's going to be incredible. I'm going to have him panting after me like some pathetic little puppy dog. Maybe I will throw him a bone. More likely, I will sneak him back into this very vehicle, I will let him go down on me, and once I'm satisfied, I'll kick him out.
Delicious.
Sure, I might let Jacob become my boyfriend at some point. He is handsome, he is reasonably smart, and most importantly, he knows his place. Too many guys his age think that they can be in charge, that they should think for themselves. Oh no. Definitely not.
Tonight, I'll tease him, I'll embarrass him, and I'll see if he reacts. If he can behave himself, then a relationship might be in order. The bloggers of the city need something to write about.
Grinning like a very satisfied feline, I cross my legs, admiring my overpriced boots. They cost more than most people make in a month.
Throwing out my hands, I rest my palms on the backs of the seats. I love having the limo to myself. Of course, there is the driver up front, but he knows better than to try to talk to me. I've made it very clear that my staff isn't to interact with me unless spoken to.
They probably think I'm a bitch. I don't care. Their opinions aren't worth anything.
As I luxuriate in my wealth and power and youth and beauty, I close my eyes for a second, anticipating tonight. It's going to be so much fun.
My phone starts ringing in my purse. I pull it out. I love my gold-plated, diamond studded iPhone. Some people might say that it is gaudly or silly, but I like being able to pull it out and show off exactly what I possess.
Lots of people like to say money can't buy happiness. Those are the same people who don't have any.
I hit answer and hold the phone to my ear. "What's up, Janet?"
Janet. My sister. While I inherited all of the social graces and money, she won't be allowed to inherit her portion of our fortune until she finishes college. Fortunately, I didn't suffer from the same problem.
"I want to talk about the research initiative again."
"That again?"
Personally, I'm comfortable letting the bean counters and lab nerds take care of the family business. Seriously, our enterprises make enough money that we shouldn't have to worry. They should be entirely self sustainable.
And yet, for some reason, my little sister really wants to get her hands on everything. She thinks we should pay attention to the science and the breakthroughs on the patents. It's all so boring.
"Please, Katrina, you have to listen to me. We need this. The pipeline is going dry. Unless we get some breakthrough soon, the investors are going to start fleeing. Our stock price will fall, and we won't be able to refinance any of the company debt."
As she is talking into my ear, I hold up my hand and I pantomime her mouth. Blah, blah, blah, blah. What's wrong with this girl? Why can't she have some fun? It's a Friday night, for crying out loud.
"Look, I reviewed your budget," I lie. "And we just don't have the money for it. Look, I'm sure if you go back to the accountants, they will help you out. Or maybe you should take the weekend off, go sailing or skiing or something. Find a guy. Get laid."
"Katrina, it doesn't work like that. This is important. I know you think this is all really boring and unimportant, but it matters. People’s jobs are depending on us," Janet insists, getting all fired up.
"Th
e answer is no." Sure, I could give her everything she wants. I could release those research funds, and maybe she would be able to accomplish something, but frankly she needs to remember who's in charge. I'm the one who inherited the family fortune, so it's my decision. I'm not going to let my bratty little sister try to usurp me.
At this point, I grin because the line goes silent. I know that she’s still there. It's easy for me to imagine Janet at her desk, staring off into space while she tries to think of some way to convince me. But she won't. I've already made up my mind, and I can be a very stubborn bitch when I really set my mind to it.
Proving me right, she sighs. "Please, Katrina. This is your last chance. I need you to do what's right for the people who trust us with their livelihoods. Please, I need you to listen to me. The board is already losing faith in you. I've been able to hold them off for a while, but something is going to have to change, and we both know they're not going to trust me yet. I'm too young."
That's absolutely true.
Grinning again, I harden my voice anyway. "Janet, are you threatening me? Are you trying to imply that you would make a move against me?"
"Look, they are going to be consequences of the decision you make right now," she tells me.
I blink. I open my mouth, but I don't know what to say. This is my little sister. She's not supposed to talk to me like that!
"Whatever," I finally say, biting back what I'm really thinking. I drop the phone from my ear, and I end the conversation.
Huffing out my frustration, I turn my attention back to the cityscape passing me by. On this Friday night, people are scurrying around. The old, boring people are rushing home to watch TV and read books. The college kids are out, ready to drink, ready to have some fun and make some memories.
I hear something, a light buzzing. Then I realize that someone is calling the driver. I raise an eyebrow, surprised. He says something, but his voice is muffled through the glass separating us.
"What's going on?" I call out to him.
He doesn't lower the glass barrier between us. I reach forward, tapping my knuckles. Still, he doesn't react. He puts down his phone, setting it aside, and then he opens another panel near the steering wheel. I've never seen it before. There is just one button right there.
Is that new?
He pushes it.
A sweet smelling aroma fills the back cabin. I know the driver can see me. He can't just ignore me! I'm the girl who hires and fires him.
"I need to talk to you! You need to talk to me right now!" I shout at him. We come to a stop light, and he turns around, glancing at me. He smirks, shaking his head.
Somehow, he doesn't look at all frightened. Most of my employees fear me. They understand that I can terminate their paychecks with just a word. But not this guy, he turns back to the street in front of us.
I blink again, realizing that my vision has started to spin. It's become distorted at the edges. I inhale again, and I have to wonder, is it possible? Did he just release some kind of gas into the back of the car? What is it? A sedative?
Heart pounding, I inhale, and I hold my breath. That doesn't help. It was a stupid mistake. Why did I breathe in, knowing that the air was already contaminated?
Anyway, I go for the door. If I have to stumble out onto the street, fine, whatever. I will get his name, and I will make sure that he spends a long, long time in prison for this. It's probably just some dumb joke. Even so, he's going to pay for it!
I grab onto the handle, I pull, but the door doesn't click open.
I quickly slide across the back seat, yanking on the other handle. Again, it stubbornly refuses to open for me.
I slam my fist against the glass. People are walking by. I cry out for help, only to remember that this vehicle is soundproof. The windows are tinted. No one outside can see me.
I slam my fist anyway, hoping to attract someone's attention. I’m a beautiful girl. Someone has to come help me. Someone has to come rescue me!
The seconds tick past. My lungs are squeezed for oxygen. My head starts to swim, but I don't know what to do. Finally, I turn around, I lift up my boots, and I kick my heels against the glass. The material seems to reverberate for just a second, but it doesn't break. It doesn't even crack.
Failing to concentrate for just a moment, I lose control, and I inhale. I fill my lungs, and more of the sweet aroma enters my nostrils.
No.
"Good night, Miss,” the driver says to me. Then I hear his laughter before darkness encompasses me completely.
The black settles over me for a long time.
Then, I start to slide out of it, only to feel weightless for another nameless chunk of time. Strangely enough, I don't think, I don't scheme, and I don't panic. I'm completely relaxed. Even when I feel people lift me up and carry me around, I don't seem to care. I'm too drowsy.
It's easier to just relax.
Strong, dexterous hands begin to strip me down. I can feel the buttons of my blouse come away. Someone unzips my boots, pulling them off. Next, I lose my skirt, my bra, and finally my panties. Even so, I don't care.
With a supreme burst of willpower, I manage to open my eyelids for a moment. The lights overhead are bright. But maybe they only feel that way because my eyes have been closed for such a long time. There are tiles, a large bathtub, and a man. He's handsome with short cropped hair, a trace of stubble, and glasses.
He's kind of nerdy; kind of cute.
I tried to get my lips to move, but they stubbornly refuse.
"Just stay calm. Don't worry. Your problems will be over in a little bit," he promises.
The next thing I know, warm water slides up over my toes, my feet, my knees, and the rest of my body. I'm dipped down, and the heat seems to sap the last of my strength. Someone is watching me, moving a bar of soap over my limbs, my breasts, and even between my legs.
Someone has started fingering me. It happens slowly, deliberately. Someone works his finger between my legs. I don't mean to do it, but I began to panic. I actually start squirming and moaning. But those movements don't feel like they belong to me. They are just happening. Or maybe they are happening to someone else. Either way, an illicitly spectacular heat begins to gather between my legs. I open my eyes again, and I see him looking at me.
"You like that, don't you? You're going to learn to love it in time," he promises.
Although I can't keep my eyes open, he continues to rub me.
Oh my God. Some stranger is touching me, and he's about to make me come!
Hot adrenaline springs through my body, tensing my muscles. Despite this, I still can't overcome the haze. My body is normally so responsive. I usually feel so dexterous and graceful. I could've been a ballerina if I had had any patience.
But now, none of that makes any difference because this stranger continues to finger me. He slides his digit over my opening, caressing me again and again. He rubs the pad of his fingertip over my clit. I'm hot and wet and panting.
"Go ahead. Come for me. You know you want to."
Does he realize that I'm aware? Or does he think I'm still asleep? Either way, I arch my back, and I start moaning. If he didn't know I was awake before, he certainly does now.
With a gasp, I come hard, moaning again. Now I'm even sleepier. The exhaustion collapses down upon me. "You're going to make such a good little doggie. Yes, you are." He pats me on the head, and there is nothing I can do about it.
My lips stick together; my throat is dry.
Those are the first things I realize as I open my eyes again. I find myself in a giant room. Ahead of me and to the left and right, I can see huge windowpanes. It feels like I'm in an office building, only the lights are dim, and I don't see any cubicles or doors. Instead, there is artificial turf spread out in front of me. This area almost looks like some kind of field.
But wait. Why are there black lines in front of me? Still trying to get a sense of my location, I rub my eyes, worried that there might be something wrong with my sight. But no
. My vision is as flawless as ever. Instead, there really are iron bars right in front of me.
Am I in jail? Am I in some kind of bizarre jail?
Immediately, I try to get back up onto my feet. If I can stand, then maybe that some of this will start to make sense.
The top of my head hits something hard.
The pain clears my vision. It knocks out a lot of the fuzz from my perceptions. I grab onto the bars, and then I look down at the rest of my body. From my toes up to my clavicles, I'm naked. I don't have a stitch of fabric on. For a moment, I grab my arms against my chest, hiding my nipples. I'm also careful to bring my knees together, like I'm worried someone will run in here with a camera at any moment.
Instead, the room is quiet. Nothing happens.
As the pain fades away from the top of my head, I wait.
But since I've never been a very patient person, I start to tap my fingertips against the bottom of my small cell. I crawl around, realizing that I'm in little more than a box. There isn't enough room to stand up. At best, I can crouch.
Finally, I decide I've had enough of this. "Whoever you think you are, this is going to be your one chance." My voice fades away, a slight echo on the air. "I'm a very rich and powerful person. Unless you let me out of here right now, you're going to be in a ton of trouble. Do you understand me?"
"I understand what you're saying," a voice responds from behind me. He sounds amused, like my threat is nothing but a joke to him. "But I don't believe you."
It takes me several long, arduous seconds to turn around. I have to move on my knees and knuckles. But once I reverse position, I stare out from between the bars of my cage, and I see him.
He has on a gray, long sleeved shirt and slightly faded jeans. He's cute enough, but I'm in no mood to play with this boy. "Who put you up to this? Is this some kind of joke?"
"No joke," he says, crouching down right in front of me. I look into his dark eyes, and I keep waiting for him to flinch, to be intimidated.
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