A Girl and Her Cow: The Complete Series Read online

  A Girl and Her Cow

  A lesbian lactation fetish fantasy by Rubey Noire

  Copyright 2014 Rubey Noire

  Amazon Edition

  The characters in this story are all 18 years of age or older. This is a work of fiction.

  Cover Design: Rubey Noire

  Cover Photo: Penny Mathews

  I am awakened by the mega-vibe pressed suddenly, firmly, and harshly against my clit. Jolted awake, I spread my legs instinctively. It feels so good and I wish, as I do every morning, that my cowpoke would leave it in place for just a little longer, press just a little bit harder. The vibrator makes me so wet so fast that by the time she removes it just seconds later I'm ready to come, wetness already dripping down my legs when I rise from my bedding to position on all fours.

  She chuckles at my response to the vibe, and my whiney mooing when she takes it away without giving me relief. My reactions provide her with unending humor. She hangs the vibe back on its hook on the wall of my stall and reaches outside the gate for my feed bowl. I shift and nuzzle her where ever I can reach as she brings my morning feed and places it in my trough at the back of my stall. This morning I manage to get inside her personal space far enough that I graze her breast with my nose, earning a swift, sharp smack on my rump. I'm pretty sure that she's aroused. That knowledge, and her hand dolling out my punishment, makes me even wetter so I do it again. She just chuckles some more and whispers softly, "Careful what you wish for, my little milk cow."

  Once my food and water bowls are set I drop all the playing and get down to business. I have only a few minutes to eat and drink it all; she'll remove it promptly after she completes her next task.

  She slides the leather straps under my hips and pulls them taunt, in order to ensure my rump hovers in the air and I can't pull away from the tubing she will insert in a moment. The strap is familiar, comforting, and the task has become a part of my morning routine. I've come to actually welcome the empty, clean feeling that I know will follow.

  I am half way done with the contents of my bowl when she lubes and inserts the tube in my asshole and flips the switch to allow the gallon bag of warm soapy water she's hung from the ceiling of my stall to empty into me. This is the only point that interrupts my eating. The first sudden rush of water filling up my gut is intense and fast and I have to concentrate to not unconsciously bear down and push the tubing from my body.

  To do so would stop the pleasure of the activity, incurring a swift and painful punishment, but most of all it would disappoint my caring cowpoke and waste all of her morning's hard work. I know that she is up several hours before me making all of the necessary preparations for my day. The keeping of a hucow - a human who chooses to behave and be treated like a cow - is truly a lot of work and I'm deeply appreciative of all of her efforts on my behalf. Her work allows me to fully explore this life, to live this fantasy. She fulfills needs, desires, and dreams that I've had for a long time.

  Very few would understand my choice. That's why almost no one knows I'm here on Athena’s Dairy, living and producing like a domesticated animal. My family and friends don't know that this is what I have chosen to be. This is not the way I want to live my entire life but I am happy here for now. I have been here for two years. My cowpoke has been with me for most of that time. When I first got here I had…

  "Hey Billie!"

  …Scarlett Windt.

  I stop my musings but not my eating to listen to their conversation.

  "It's Whilimenia, Scarlett, just like the last thousand times I've told you."

  "Sure." She pauses briefly then says, "Already got her to a gallon? I've been trying to get mine past two quarts for weeks now. She just won't stop pushing it out no matter how many times I punish her."

  "I think you've probably got your answer right there, Scarlett," my cowpoke says.

  "What is that supposed to mean? How did you get yours to be so docile? And I hear her production is excellent. How many ounces are you getting off her in a day?"

  Yeah, I was really glad to be rid of Scarlett. The morning I woke up to my current cowpoke was the first truly happy day I had here. I had vowed by the end of that day that if I was reassigned back to Scarlett, it would be my last day at this dairy.

  Thankfully that hadn't happened. Now I was staying as much for my cowpoke as for the dairy itself. She was an excellent hucow caretaker. She was very knowledgeable and had a natural knack for the job. Not to mention the fact that she seemed like she really and truly enjoyed every detail of the work. Wilhelmina was a hard worker and firm but loving mistress. She would probably be an excellent dairy-woman one day if she ever chose to develop her own herd.

  Most cowpokes, just like most hucows, came to the dairy for a certain period of time. The men and women interested in raising hucows enjoyed the experience, then moved on once they were finished. I had no way of knowing what my cowpoke's intentions were as she rarely ever broke the rule that prohibited any verbal interaction with her "beast." As said beast, I never broke my role at all in that respect. I was allowed any number of cow-like utterances, mooing and bawling, but absolutely no talking.

  "Well, we'll see today I suppose." I love how soft spoken she is without compromising the intensity of her presence.

  "Oh! That's right! I forgot you had that today. No wonder you've got the extra bags. Well, good luck. I hear the judges are brutal." I hear Scarlett wander off while I'm left to wonder what they were talking about.

  The food bowls are removed from my trough. Luckily Scarlett's little distraction gave me a little extra time. I feel his hand press on the back of my head and I fold my front legs and rest my head on the ground between my front feet. My rump is still suspended in the air by the leather strap which is pressing the gallon of water further up my colon, painfully distending my gut. I moo through the uncomfortable sensation and the cowpoke's hand rubs the small of my back while her other fingers remove the tubing from my ass.

  It's such a relief to have it gone I moo out another sigh until I remember what Scarlett said about there being more bags...with an 's'...as in plural. Usually only two gallon bags are used to clean me out.

  I'm distracted again as I hear the bucket clanging behind me. She grabs my leash and pulls, indicating I'm to rise up over the bucket that I know now is behind me. I obey without having to think about it. This process has been repeated by us together so many times that I think it could be accomplished even were we to both in our sleep.

  I rest my rump on the rim and let go of my bowels. The water comes rushing out with a swoosh. The speed of it always catches me off guard and she steadies my shoulders with her reassuring hands and long fingers.

  When I am done, I lean forward again and wait for the restraining strap and second bag. As she waits for it to fill me up I see her gather the supplies to wash and prepare my hair. Curiosity has gripped me now. Obviously there is some sort of examination going on today because Scarlett mentioned judges and today isn't Saturday.

  Usually my hair is washed only on Saturday. Today is a Tuesday. So something is definitely going on.

  I resist the urge to look in her eyes with questions in mine. We go through the fill and empty process once more bringing my total to three gallons. I feel thoroughly cleansed and completely empty, despite having eaten all of my morning feed.

  My leash is attached tautly to the wall with the restraining strap under my lower belly. I hear my cowpoke return and uncoil the hose. While she is adjusting the water temperature and sprayer I prepare myself for the onslaught.

  She is very specific in her choices for how she cares for me. I do not know why she chooses things as she does but she must have some reaso
n because she is careful to do it with the same daily precision.

  First, the cold wide spray on my rump. She cleans all the traces of my elimination process from me and I am grateful, again, that it is the first part of me cleaned. I arch my back, opening my legs as wide as I can so that the water can work into every nook and cranny; it feels heavenly.

  The long-handled brush she holds is covered in lavender scented soap. She uses it to scrub my body all over. The soft bristles rub harshly against my pussy lips. I'm sure it's doing less cleaning and more just spreading my juices around. I moo gratefully as she makes a few extra passes over the area.

  Once she completes the soaping down and I'm shivering in my stall she adjusts the water again and it is just past bearably hot. I try to hold back the hiss that threatens to escape through my teeth. Quickly she rinses all the soap from me. My skin is burning and red.

  Again she adjusts the temperature and begins washing my long brown hair. This is my favorite part. The water is warm, the shampoo is fragrant, jasmine and herbs, and her hands are massaging my scalp deliciously. I moo appreciatively several times.

  After I'm all clean she dries me with a fluffy clean towel, then rubs the salve over my engorged udders and teats, I lean in, loving the expectation of waiting for the tingle that signals that my milk is letting down. Sometimes I wish that I could rub her breasts in the same way, perhaps press mine into hers so we can rub them together. But I can’t, not unless they are offered, not unless this is the scenario she chooses.

  It is finally time for milking. Her extra additions to the routine have put us somewhat off schedule. I notice that the barn is unusually quiet and I realize that she and I are the only ones here. All the other hucows have been led out to pasture by their cowpokes.

  Once the salve is covering me she turns on the milker and brings the glass suctions to my breasts, gently holding them to me until the vacuum seals them tightly to me. My milk begins to flow almost before they are fully attached and it is only now that I realize she didn't milk me once during the night.

  Scarlett never did milk me at night but my cowpoke did so from the first night I was given to her. It was hard at first getting used to being awoken several times a night but then I noticed a fairly significant increase in my production and understood then why she did it.

  Last night was the first night ever she didn't milk me. My udders are so full they're painful. I moo the pain to her. She caresses my head as she combs all the tangles from my wet hair.

  "I know," she whispers, "but it will be over soon. Give me lots of milk today, okay?"

  I moo again and nuzzle my head in her hand. "That's my good girl," she coos to me and I am over come with emotion.

  I want to be her good girl so badly. I can tell she's stressed out about something. She obviously is preparing me for something and she's sacrificed my long term production to get a greater out put this morning. I'm hurting but I want to be the best that I can be for her. For the first time I want to tell her that, to actually speak the words and tell her that I'll be her good little hucow girl. She can have anything she wants from me. She can have everything.

  I fight down the urge and overcome it only by nuzzling harder against her licking my tongue out whenever I get close to her crotch or breasts. I moo out a sort of whimper.

  "Give me time. We'll get there."

  I realize I've failed. She thinks I want something from her. Tears start to fall and I hang my head to hide my shame. It hurts me to fail her. Whatever it is she needs from me today, that is what I want to give.

  She picks my head up to finish his task with my hair and notices my tears. Wiping one away with her thumb she tilts my head further back and combs the hair from my face.

  Barely moving her lips she whispers, "Okay?"

  I gasp in shock. She’s asking me a direct question. Does she think I will answer? I can't answer. That would fail her even more. And yet, she seems to be genuinely concerned for my well being.

  I blink back the additional tears that form with her query and try to offer a smile. I am afraid it too is sad. I moo softly.

  "Okay," she whispers again. "You are such a good girl, aren't you? Always so good. That's why…" Her voice drops away.

  She fusses with my hair for an extraordinarily long time. First she makes two pony tails on the top of my head slightly off to either side. Then she braids each long tail and wraps it around itself securing the creations with pins. I have no mirror but I'm assuming that it looks vaguely like cow horns. She seems pleased with her handiwork as she steps back to look at me.

  "Not bad, Wilhelmina, even if I do say so myself." She smiles at her accomplishment.

  She checks the milker then comes over to massage my udders. As she kneads the flesh I feel another let down of milk. She must be getting quite the volume from me because she smiles. I get the impression she is attempting to drain me of every single drop she can.

  When the milkers are doing their job once again and she has completed her massaging, she walks around behind me. Instantly I'm drenched. I know what is coming next and I can't wait. I need this part of our routine so badly.

  I hear her pants drop and hold my breath for the few seconds it takes before I can feel her. She straps on quickly and positions her body kneeling behind mine. Some mornings she slides in nice and slow filling me with sweet agony because the dildo is so large, it’s like a bull. Some days it is swift and hard and I can barely breathe for the first few minutes while I feel her force me to open to her. This morning it is just waiting.

  Tentatively I let the breath out from my burning lungs. I feel the lube being applied to my puckered opening and I think she's going to take me there. She never has and I'm scared because the device really is very large. I don't think I can take it if she does.

  I try not to, but a frightened moo escapes me before I can get a handle on my fear. She runs a hand over my cheeks and from the corner of my eye I see her grab two objects from the shelves that hang from the walls of my stall: my tail and the paddle.

  I breathe again and chastise myself severely for not trusting her completely, even after all this time. When the paddle lands on my right cheek I welcome the pain, I know I deserve it. I want her to spank me now, to cleanse my conscience of this guilt with the implement in her fingers. I raise my hind end up to meet it when I hear the woosh of the paddle through the air. Every smack that lands on my backside makes me happier until I'm nearly giddy, the pain begins to feel good as my endorphins release. My ass is burning and, no doubt, red all over, she has spread the swats out over my whole rump.

  Without ceremony she shoves the plug up my ass and I feel the long braided tail hang down between my cheeks. I'm unable to stop the hiss as my puckered hole absorbs the pain of the forceful entry and she swats me with the paddle again. I moo long and loud trying say 'I'm sorry' and 'I submit completely' and so many other things with that one sound.

  She shakes the cold, stainless steel plug in my ass a little, pulsing it harder into me. That thing isn't small and it is rather menacing looking: sharp-pointed end, bulging, bulbous middle about the size of my fist, not-to-skinny neck, and long brown-haired braid that hangs down about a foot. She tosses the paddle to the shelf, lifts my tail, and mounts me like the cow in heat that I am.

  It is hard and fast and she grunts while she rocks me on the swinging leather strap that I am still practically hanging over. Her fast rhythm and long strokes make my udders swing wildly, especially with the added weight of the glass milking bowls attached to them. The pain shoots up around my back from my chest with every forward swing and up into my shoulders with every movement backwards toward her.

  I am panting and squeezing my muscles around the dildo, so close to coming when she pulls it out of me completely. I taste the metallic saltiness in my mouth from where I bite my tongue in effort to not cry out in disappointment. It is rare that she will not let me come but today my mistrust has disappointed her enough to punish me this way.

  Another st
ream of tears begins but not from sexual frustration, rather from knowing that I have driven her to this. I vow to never doubt her actions again, no matter what she does.

  When she comes around in front of me I open my mouth eagerly. I hope desperately that she will at least allow me this. I want to give her this act of submission when I have failed her so completely before.

  Her hand strokes the rubber cock inches from my face and I know she is contemplating what she should do.

  Sometimes I will suck the dildo while a butterfly vibrator is attached to my pussy. Other times she will lie back while I lick her to satisfaction. That is a special treat. On occasion she has positioned herself under me for access to my hanging teats, while our pussies ground together, rutting in explosive satisfaction.

  She waits so long that I am sure she will not allow me to have the cock in my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing back the tears, but keep my mouth open, trusting her to do whatever pleases her. Suddenly the cock is shoved all the way down my throat until my nose is pressed into the flat flesh of her stomach.

  My entire body tenses with the effort to not gag or throw up. I force my throat to open as she pushes in and out of my mouth. Her hands descend to my head and pulls me into her violently as I feel her body shudder from her own release from the cock’s bottom bumping and pressing her clit.

  "YES!" she yells then immediately drops her voice to a barely audible whisper. "Look at me," she demands and I open my eyes looking up at her as much as I can manage. "Just like that," she whispers. I swallow again and see her head fall back with a sigh.

  My lungs begin to burn fiercely before she finally pulls the rubber cock out of my throat, sliding the beautiful cock along my tongue on the way out. I suck hard on the head, knowing she will see how much I want it, and everything that she does to me. She removes the strap, and her naked pussy, plump, wet and red is directly in my face and I just stare at it. I wish she would lie back and let me taste it, or put my finger in her opening so I can taste and smell her arousal. I lean forward, but she is turning and gone.