Millie’s mum was also called Millie and that could be confusing except for the fact everyone called Millie the daughter “Little Millie” and they called her mum “Big Millie. It was somewhat of an amusing circumstance as “Big Millie” was tiny in comparison to her daughter. “Little Millie was quite tall and had a humongous appetite that caused her to have self-described “big bones” in full explanation for her size. It was Little Millie’s rear-end that made her distinctive when viewed from behind because it was pleasingly plump and shaped in a way that led most men to linger a little bit longer when watching her cross their path.
The family was tied by contract to a farmer in the Northern regions and their prospects for buying their freedom was close to nil. In God’s truth, Little Millie’s father was more of a talker rather than a doer. He could be found more often than not in the back room of the local pub opining on almost any subject on God’s green earth and in each one, he was a resident “expert” to be relied upon for logical explanation. The only time he remained silent was when it was time to pay for a fresh round of the locally brewed ale that flowed constantly around the clock except on Sunday mornings when the study of religious matters was the only required agenda to be considered.
Old Tom was not a religious person but he insisted his wife and three daughters be visibly present in the midst of the congregation with great consistency in order to compensate for his miserable record of attendance.
Millie was the youngest daughter and unlikely to be wed before the other two sisters.
She didn’t think that was quite fair because both of them were of barely passable degree of attractiveness to the male gender. The eldest daughter Rose was nicely presented when viewed from the rear with trim heart-shaped hindquarters that moved most seductively when in motion. Unfortunately, it was when one got a good look at her face that any thought of physical communion with her as a partner went right out the window like the contents of the previous night’s bedpan. The poor girl was downright discombobulated with features from nose to chin. In addition to that, she would have a minimal dowry because her father usually found coins for drink of a higher priority to his daughter’s marital future.
The middle daughter was a creature of pleasing appearance at first glance, but her boisterous attitude and vociferous mouth scared away even the most depressingly sex-deprived candidate a whole lot sooner instead of later. In many ways, the complicated Bessie was more like her dissolute father than her diminutive mother. Her prospects were not encouraging much to her chagrin and sinful thoughts of risky enticements on her part with some unsuspecting partner.
All three of the girls were accomplished milkmaids and they took pride in their ability to coax a cow into giving milk with practiced skills. Of the three of them, it could be said that Millie was probably the most skillful because she had a technique of squeezing and pulling that was the most successful in filling the pail by far. She had tried to teach her two sisters her almost magical trick in milking but they were uninterested in such boring details and continued to discuss matters like cloth for sale at the market or the best place to buy a new bonnet for church on Sunday.
Millie liked to work with new cows and her father would “loan” her out on milking duties to his drinking buddies providing he would be excluded from the necessity of buying the next round for the room. Poor Millie was not quite certain why she was tasked with milking duties for the other farms, but she was above all, an obedient girl and would never think to question her father’s orders.
One of the farms was different than the others due to the fact that the owner had two strong lads and no daughters to speak of. His wife was crippled with some severe crippling of the hands and fingers and would be of no use in the milking game. Millie’s job was to teach the two strapping boys the ins and outs of the milking process and she was of the opinion it was almost an impossible task. No matter how often she demonstrated the technique to Allen and Robin, they seemed too dense to comprehend her simple words. She despaired of correcting the placement of their slender fingers and muscular hands in proper alinement to get the job done efficiently.
The thought came to her that the only way to properly train these lads was to show them with the power of touch by demonstrating her technique on their youthful appendages hoping that they would be so inspired that they would approach the milking game with greater enthusiasm.
She lined them up on each side and had them placed on top of a pair of pails displaying their eager shafts in open view. Millie was a little bit better at milking with her right hand because she was right-handed, but she did her best to balance her instructions and soon had Allen and Robin grunting in unison and in full concentration on the job at hand. After a rousing warm-up, she started to milk them in turn treating them to long strokes of her gentle hands coated with butter residue from the churn. She had no difficulty in bringing them both off to happy endings that tingled their prostates with several momentous after-shocks. She knew it was the little trick she had learned with the twisting motion at the very end when it was least expected.
The draining of the brothers convinced Millie that her road to financial independence was better suited to the milking of the human species rather than the bovine one. After some hush-hush arrangements with the pub owner, she took possession of the small room at the head of the stairs and went into the business of creating happy endings with her talented hands and high-spirited enthusiasm. Soon she was stashing little piles of hard cash in secret hiding places to insure it would remain hers and not be converted into booze for her hard-drinking father.
.... There is more of this story ...