Chapter 2

Despite the disturbed night my internal alarm woke me at oh six hundred. I washed, dressed and went down to the kitchen, where Sparky had beaten me there. Sarah was tending the stove, and Daisy and Buttercup smiled at us across the table. We sat opposite them.

“Thank you for last night,” Buttercup said, looking at me. “That was really satisfying.”

“It was,” chimed in Daisy, looking at Sparky. “Jake said we could go to four hourly if we liked. That would be better for sleeping.”

Sarah put coffee in front of Sparky and me, but the girls just had water. I commented.

“Water is better for the milk anyway, but it’s getting expensive to buy coffee and tea. We’re experimenting with herbal infusions, though. Chamomile and mint are both easy to do.”

“Interesting,” I commented. “I hear what you’re saying, and I think it’s going to get difficult to get coffee, or, especially, tea, in view of having to import it. Sparky and I are used to drinking a lot of coffee, but we’re going to have to cut down, or we’ll get withdrawal symptoms.”

“Really, Boss? That bad?”

“Really, Sparky. People just don’t realise how addictive caffeine is. But that’s for another day to worry about.”

Plates of bacon, eggs, sausages, fried potatoes and baked beans arrived in front of us. I took a mouthful and chewed thoughtfully. It was, I thought, the best bacon I’d tasted in many years. The baked beans, also. The eggs ... the eggs had orange yolks, which suggested quality. “Sarah, this is truly excellent!”

“Just our usual, sir. But I’m delighted you’re happy.”

About then, four women, the same four who’d been our first group last night, came in from the parlour smiling at us before sitting at the table. Sarah quickly had plates in front of them. I looked around at them. “I shall want to talk to everyone when it’s convenient. In the first place, one at a time, I think. Can we do that after breakfast? Or, rethinking, start that after breakfast. It could take some time. Do talk amongst yourselves, but I do want to hear everyone’s personal views and feelings. No one is going to have to leave here. No one. Unless, of course, they want to leave. Even if you’re a slave, or on an Indenture, I want to hear from you. Okay?” I tucked in to what was left of my breakfast.

I finished eating with a sigh. “Sarah, that was excellent. Thank you.” I stood. “Buttercup, will you come with me for a chat, please?”

“Yes, sir.” She too stood, took her plate to the sink, and followed me to the room I’d decided would be my study. Or perhaps office. I wasn’t sure about that. It was small enough to be cosy and intimate, and was lined with books. Perhaps it was intended to be the library.

“Take a seat,” I suggested. She perched on a hard, upright chair, not resting against the back. “Look,” I said, as gently as I could, “relax. Have a comfortable chair.”

“Sir, it’s just ... I, I mean we ... haven’t been treated as, well, humans. We’re here as cows. We’re fed well, with human food, and we sleep in beds and use a human toilet, but we’re supposed to be animals.” She did go to a more comfortable seat and, I thought, forced herself to sit back.

“Better.” I said. “Now ... do you like being here? Being treated almost as an animal, being milked every few hours? Working on the farm in between?”

She sat biting her lip. Hesitantly, she began speaking. “I’ve got used to it. This is quite a comfortable place. I mean, when I became a slave, I was used by men. I wasn’t human to them either. Here, I’m fed, sleep warm, and the sex is quite good. I mean, I orgasm really every time I’m milked. Last night, I couldn’t believe the way you treated me. That ... God! It was just...” she trailed off, and tears were trickling down her cheeks.

“Is there anything you’d like to change? What about your name?”

There was a very long pause. “I ... could I ... maybe ... go to church?”

“I don’t see why not. You’ll need clothes, I suppose, and you’ll have to organise your milking to fit round it. Unless you want to stop being milked.”

“Oh, no! I actually enjoy it. Not to mention the orgasms. Thank you.” She stood, and I followed suit.

“Come here,” I told her.

She came, slowly, tentatively, and I spread my arms and wrapped her up. “I really liked it last night, too.” We stood like that for several minutes and I was enjoying the feel of her body against me. I forced myself to release her. “Tell Daisy to come to see me here, will you?”

I sat back down and leant back. Closed my eyes. What was I doing? Within a few hours of arriving here, I’d had sex – admittedly, by invitation – with two women I had not previously known. I’d handled intimately several more, and treated them like cows. It would take me some time to come to terms with the conflicts in me. I was still ruminating when the door opened and Daisy entered.

“Sir?”

“Come in and make yourself comfortable, Daisy.” Then, once she’d settled in to the same chair that Buttercup had used, “Tell me about yourself.”

“Oh! Well, I was born Delphine Stone, and I’ve lived around here all my life. I’m nineteen now, at least I think so, I rather lost track of time. When the attacks happened we were alright for a few months, but then everything went wrong. Dad died in London, you see. Mum was struggling, so I took a Minor’s Indenture. My first ... master ... just wanted a sex toy, but at least I was fed and housed, and I had an IUD. The sex wasn’t anything to write home about, but I got to quite enjoy it. I was with him for nearly a year, then he passed me on to another. I was there with a couple of other women, we were naked all the time and he bent us over whenever he wanted. I’m not sure how I ended up here, but I’ve been lactating for just over a month, like Buttercup. I don’t know her proper name, or any of the others except Sarah.”

“How do you feel about being here? Do you want to stay?”

“I’ve nowhere else to go, sir. And after last night, your friend was nice to me. I really enjoyed what he did. Even before that, at least I was having orgasms while I was milked.”

“Would you like to stay here and work on the farm or in the house, and not be milked?”

“I don’t mind working around the farm, but I’ve got to like being milked, both the tugging of the cups and the orgasms. Being fucked with a real cock, though, I liked that a lot.”

“Anything else you’d like to say, to ask?”

“I don’t know, sir. I’ll have to think about things. This is a bit sudden.”

“That’s fine. Oh, and please feel free to ask to talk to me, or Sparky. Could you find Molly for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

She left, and some time later – fifteen minutes or so – Molly appeared, stark naked.

“Sir? You wanted to see me?”

“Yes I do. And I certainly can! You’re a fine figure of a woman.”

“Or a cow?” She was smiling.

“Hardly. I’ve never had any sexual feelings for a cow. Please, take a seat. Be comfortable.”

She settled down, but made no attempt to keep her legs together. “This is...” she hesitated, “not what I’m used to.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“Sort of. You need to realise that I ... and my friends ... came here to satisfy our sexual fantasies. We like being naked, being milked, and, yes, being fucked. We’re living our fantasy. Even more after last night. The old Master, and Jake, well, they’re past giving any satisfaction. To us, anyway. I think Jake satisfies Sarah quite well.”

“So you’re happy with the status quo?”

“Yes, sir. Very. I realise that there’s only the two of you, but a real cock, perhaps once a week? That would be good. Just when we’re being milked.”

“Okay. This is all new to Sparky and me. I expect we’ll get around to a new routine in time. Your friends ... Nettie and Flower?”

“Yes, sir. That’s right.”

“Talk to them and make sure they feel the same way as you? Tell them I’ll talk to them if they want, and tell Nettie we’ll make sure she gets a turn?”

She smiled broadly. “Yes sir! I’ll do that. And send someone else in?”

“Yes, please. I’ve seen Buttercup and Daisy, so it’s just the four hourly milkers ... have I got that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when Gertie entered the room naked, moments after Molly left. “Hello, Gertie. Thank you for last night. Be comfortable.”

“Thank you, sir. Last night was really special to me.” She sat and relaxed, but like Molly, everything was on display. I’m no judge of boobs, but I guess hers were about a D cup. Certainly smaller than Molly’s.

“I’d like to know if you’re happy with the way things are here.”

“Yes, sir. It’s better than I’ve had before. I came from the slave block, and the ‘training’ I received from my first owner was pretty brutal. I didn’t have an orgasm before being milked here.”

“Is there anything you’d like to change?”

She hesitated for several seconds, but I waited her out.

“Nothing that can happen,” she said eventually.

“Okay. Let me put it differently. If you could have your greatest wish, what would it be?” She sniffed, and I realised that tears were pouring down her cheeks. “Gertie, come here, please.” She stared at me, wide-eyed, distraught. “Come here,” I repeated, holding out my arms to her. She came, and I pulled her into my lap, wrapped my arms around her. She burrowed into my embrace and really began to cry. Deep, racking sobs. They eventually slowed until she was just hiccupping from time to time. “Tell me,” I demanded.

She sniffed, and spoke with her face buried in my chest, so muffled. “I want to be loved,” she said.

“Why can that not happen?”

“Because I am a slave, and there are not enough men to go around.”

“How does either of those stop you being loved? You are a loving girl.”

“Thank you, sir. I just, I just can’t believe anyone would want to love me.”

“I don’t think it works like that, sweet girl. Let’s see what happens, okay? For now, perhaps you’d find another of your group, and send them in, please?”

She twisted in my arms and kissed me fervently on the lips. “Oh, sir!” Then jumped up and ran out.

She was replaced by Clarabelle, who’d brought tea to Jake’s office, then, in turn, Bess, Dottie, Blossom, Delilah and Penny.

I got much the same response from each of them. In fact, but for the necklaces I couldn’t really have identified them. They were all brunette, with short hair. All the four-hour milkers had what I took to be D cup breasts, though there were variations in shape and proportion. I’d never particularly found large breasts attractive, and that applied especially to the older women who were being milked twice a day. Their breasts could even be described as ‘udders’, which I suppose fitted the fetish. Anyway, The last girl, Penny, told me that lunch was ready in the kitchen, and I followed her there.

Most of the crew were there already, and the last – the older women – trickled in over a few minutes. They’d obviously been working outside and were wearing overalls. Molly smiled at me when she noticed me looking. “Hoeing vegetables,” she stated. “We don’t use machinery much.”

“Come a time,” Jake put in, “when we won’t be able to get diesel for the machines anyway. I’ll be getting the wheat in this afternoon before we have more rain.” He looked at Sparky, then me, “it would help to have the tractor towing a trailer alongside. We’d probably finish the field before supper that way.”

“I’ll do that, boss,” Sparky put in.

“Good enough,” I said, “though I’ve spoken to all the girls now. I’ll be free after lunch. On the other hand,” I looked at Sarah, “perhaps I need to talk to you too? I think I’ll need some advice. I had an idea this morning.”

The meal, soup with home-made wholemeal bread and cheese which wasn’t quite cheddar – what would you call cheese made from woman-milk? – was tasty. I caught a few glances from the women, at me, and at Sparky. Apple pie and cream – the latter also not quite what I was used to, but a pleasant flavour – and a cup of coffee for Sparky and myself.

At length, we all left the kitchen apart from a couple of the women whose turn it was to clear up. Sparky went with Jake, and Sarah followed me to my study.

“Sir?” she prompted after we sat.

“I’ve talked to all the girls now,” I said. “Haven’t come to any conclusions, other than the three oldest are content with their place here. The others, I understand, can all go to four hourly, which will simplify things. But that’s just scheduling. What I wanted to discuss with you is something I picked up from the younger girls. I think they would welcome a more conventional approach. It would make me more comfortable anyway to treat them more as girls than as cows.”