Chapter 12

We stepped out of the tub, our skin pink, wrinkled, and pristine, and wrapped ourselves in large, fluffy towels. The soft fabric absorbed the water from our bodies, leaving us feeling warm and cozy. We took our time drying off, our movements slow and relaxed, our bodies still humming with the aftermath of our shared pleasure.

Once dry, we brushed out our hair, the strokes gentle and soothing. Mom put Becky’s hair back into pigtails and I borrowed a hair tie to put mine into a ponytail. Mom left hers free, flowing over her shoulders and almost down to her breasts.

Becky led the way to the kitchen, her pigtails swinging behind her, a playful bounce in her step. Our stomachs rumbled in unison, the sound echoing in the quiet house, making us all laugh. I felt a little weird being completely naked in the kitchen, but my hunger overrode any embarrassment. I was starving, and the scent of food was intoxicating.

As we entered the kitchen, the scent of fresh food hit us. Sharon had prepared an array of sandwiches, tomato soup, and a big bowl of chips. She also had a large selection of sodas. She stood by the counter, nude, with her arms crossed and a tense expression on her face. Mom gave her a nod, an uneasy truce passing between them.

“Dig in,” Sharon said, her voice tight. She glanced at Mom, then quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing slightly. I could see the discomfort in her body language, the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her arms wrapped protectively around her torso. I wondered if she was uncomfortable because her breasts were full of milk, but I didn’t want to ask and make things more awkward.

Becky and Mom didn’t hesitate, grabbing plates and piling them high with food. I looked at the spread, my eyes widening at the sight of something Gloria called pimento cheese sandwiches. I had no idea what pimento cheese was, so I opted for a classic PB&J. The peanut butter was creamy, the jelly sweet and tart, a comforting combination that brought back memories of simpler times.

We all sat on stools at the bar, our elbows resting on the cool countertop as we wolfed down the food. The crunch of chips, the squish of sandwiches, and the fizz of sodas filled the air, creating a symphony of contented eating. Despite the tension between Mom and Sharon, the atmosphere was surprisingly comfortable, the three of us lost in our own worlds of hunger and satisfaction.

As we neared the end of our feast, John entered the kitchen, his presence commanding and authoritative. “Follow me,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I have something to show you out in the milk shed.”

I raised an eyebrow, curious about what he had in store. What the fuck is a milk shed? I wondered, a mix of excitement and trepidation coursing through me. I exchanged glances with Mom, seeing my own curiosity reflected in her eyes. We pushed our plates aside and slid off the stools, following John out of the kitchen and towards the milk shed. Becky giggled and too her mom by the hand. Sharon sighed and followed along.

We went out the back door and followed a sidewalk until we reached a metal building that was shaped vaguely like a barn. John slid a large door back and led us inside. There were a couple of empty wooden stalls that we walked between before he reached another door which he opened by entering a code on a pad above the door knob.

Beyond the door was a rectangular room. On the wall to the right there was a large board attached across the wall, with the bottom about six feet above the floor. There were five sets of chains and manacles hanging down from the board, and John attached me, Mom, and Becky so that we were bound with our wrists over our heads.

Then he went over and pulled a contraption out of the far corner into the middle of the room. It was made of black metal tubes, with silver joints holding it all together. Sturdy tubes about three feet long at the bottom held it steady, while there were two vertical tubes with two horizontal cross bars. As he motioned towards Sharon, she entered the back of it and bent over until her head was sticking between the two cross bars.

She crossed her arms behind her back and John tied them together, forearm to forearm. I was far enough off to one side to see that her huge titties were hanging down towards the floor now. A chain wrapped around her neck and John locked it to hold her firmly in that position. Then he moved behind her and somehow lowered the top crossbar so it was snugly against the small of her back, and he used a leather strap to secure her bound arms to it.

Stepping to the side to a small table, John came back and spread Sharon’s feet apart, using two metal manacles to attach her ankles to the posts. She was now tightly attached to the frame, but I still had no idea what was going on. John stepped away again and came back with some type of contraption that he inserted in Sharon’s mouth, and when he stepped back, I could see that her mouth was held open by a large ring, with straps wrapping around her head to hold it in place.

He stepped over again and opened a drawer to pull out what looked like a large metal hook. He put one end of it in her mouth, and Sharon frantically licked at it for several moments before he pulled it away and went behind her. I was shocked to see him push it up inside her asshole, and he used the leather thong on the outside end to run it up and tied it to her ponytail, pulling it tight so her head was forced to come up more. Sharon moaned a few times in discomfort.

I looked over at Mom, who was staring wide-eyed at Sharon with a smirk on her face. When I looked at Becky, I saw her lick her lips and she had a look of longing. She looked up to see me looking and whispered, “I sure hope Daddy lets me lick Mommy’s clit while he’s fucking her.” I had no idea how to respond to that, so I just shook my head and looked back at the scene in front of me.

Moving towards a large metal cabinet, John opened the lower doors and pulled out a metal container that had tubes coming out the top of it. He brought it over and set it down next to Sharon. Going back to the small table, he brought a spray bottle and leaned down to spray her breasts with water until they were dripping a little. Then he turned on some device next to the metal cylinder and a whirring noise started up.

I watched in amazement as he leaned down and attached first one, then another clear suction cup over each of Sharon’s nipples. The machine immediately started making a back-and-forth noise, and I saw milk spurting from each of her nipples, collecting in the cups before it ran down the tubes into the cylinder.

John stepped back to admire his work, ending up closest to Mom. “I’m not sure how familiar you are with breast milk,” he said. “Sharon here is a champion milker. She’s been producing non-stop since we had Becky’s older sister. She can pump out over 200 ounces most days, and we sell it to locals down in Franklin and Brentwood for $4.00 an ounce. So you can see I’m a little pissed that we can’t use any of today’s milk cause of all the tequila shots she had last night.”

I did some quick math in my head and looked at Sharon’s huge titties with a new sense of appreciation. That makes her worth over $800 a day ... every fucking day! They must make pretty good bank on the glory holes to not be too pissed about losing a day’s worth of milk.

As I stared at Sharon’s massive breasts, I couldn’t help but glance over at Mom’s. Hers were bigger than mine, and I found myself wondering what it would be like to milk her too. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of curiosity and desire coursing through my veins.

Mom caught me staring, and her expression darkened. “Fuck that shit,” she said, looking at me angrily. “You nearly fucked my titties up sucking on them when you were a baby. I’m not about to get knocked up again, no matter how much I’d make.”

We watched Sharon getting milked for a few more moments before John undid Becky’s manacles and then moved over behind Sharon. He had gotten hard watching the pumps work, so he grabbed the metal hook and plunged his cock balls deep in Sharon, using the hook for leverage. He started thrusting in and out, while Becky quickly sat on her butt between Sharon’s spread feet and turned her face up to start licking her clit.

“Come on baby, moo for me. Who’s Daddy’s good cow?” said John as he continued to thrust.

“Oooooooooo,” said Sharon, long and low, obviously not able to form the ‘M’ sound around the ring gag.

The room filled with the rhythmic hum of the milking machine, the sight of Sharon’s massive breasts being emptied into the collection cylinder both mesmerizing and surreal. The clear suction cups over her nipples pulled and released in a steady cadence, the milk spurting out and flowing down the tubes. Sharon’s moans of discomfort had given way to a kind of dazed acceptance, her body swaying slightly with each thrust of John’s hips.

John’s grunts of effort and pleasure echoed through the room, mixing with the wet sounds of his cock slamming into Sharon and the eager licks of Becky’s tongue on Sharon’s clit. The air was thick with the scent of sex and milk, a heady and intoxicating aroma that made my own body respond with a throb of desire.

“Oooooooooo,” Sharon let out another cow moan.

“Fuck, Sharon, you’re such a good cow,” John panted, his hands gripping her hips tightly. “Your tits are fucking incredible. Look at all that milk. It’s like a fucking waterfall.”

He reached down, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Sharon’s ass, spreading her cheeks wider as he pounded into her. The metal hook jangled with each thrust, the leather thong pulling taut, forcing Sharon’s head up and back. Her moans were a mix of pain and pleasure, a symphony of submission that seemed to drive John wild.

Becky’s tongue worked relentlessly, her lips and teeth adding to the sensation as she sucked and licked and nibbled at her mom’s clit. Sharon’s hips bucked, her body trying to escape the overwhelming stimulation, but the chains and manacles held her firmly in place. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with the effort of trying to keep up with the dual assault on her body.

“Please, Daddy,” Becky begged, her voice muffled against Sharon’s flesh. “Let me taste her milk. Please.”

“Oooooooooo,” went Sharon.

John chuckled, a dark and dirty sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Not yet, baby,” he said, his voice strained with effort. “First, I want to see her cum. I want to feel her milk let down while I’m fucking her.”

Becky stopped sucking for a moment, her hand reaching back to temporarily move one of the suction cups out of the way. Her fingers found Sharon’s nipple, pinching and twisting it cruelly. Sharon screamed, her body convulsing as her orgasm hit her like a freight train. Her back arched, her hips bucking wildly as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.