Chapter 3

The Farm

Lizzie awoke, still naked, in a small but clean room with the morning sun streaming in through the tall east-facing windows. Unlike the Mistress’ parlour, the walls were freshly painted in a clean buttermilk yellow, with pale blue woodwork and Delft-patterned curtains, and there was a large brightly-coloured rag rug on the painted floorboards and a soft Turkish runner by her bed. Tom Junior was asleep in a crib by the open window, and down below in the yard she could hear the comforting sound of cow bells and the clatter of cattle being led back to the fields after milking, and knew that she had slept late.

She was about to rise from her bed to dress, when the door opened and the same maid who had helped her bathe last night came in, pushing a metal cart covered with a cloth.

“I’m sorry, I’ve overslept,” Lizzie apologised, quickly covering her big swollen breasts with the sweet-smelling blue and white patchwork quilt on the bed. “I think I’ve missed milking...”

But the maid only smirked and shook her head. “Milking’s just about to start, honey,” she beamed. “Now, you ain’t going to give me no trouble, are you? Mistress said that you were a real good girl last night.”

Lizzie shook her head, remembering the ecstatic late night cries of that stern widow-woman as she allowed herself to be brought her to orgasm after orgasm, and feeling an ache in her cunt as she began to feel the cravings again only hours after acknowledging satiation.

“Good girl,” the maid said, pulling the cover off her cart and revealing six bottles with the number one hundred and thirty-eight neatly etched in their bluey-green surface. “These here are your personal numbered bottles. You don’t put a drop of milk in no other bottle, and, other than to that little fellow there, you don’t spare a scrap to nobody else neither,” she chided. “No matter how horny you be feeling. You got that?”

Lizzie nodded and let the coverlet slide, revealing her big swollen tits in invitation to the other woman, the big vermillion nipples already swollen and erect. “Are you going to milk me?”

“Hell, you are hornier than a hound dog,” the maid cackled, giving Lizzie’s tit an affectionate squeeze. “This is a job of work, girl, get used to it if you ever want to leave this place and take your boy with you. Now, I’m going to show you how to do this but from tomorrow you’ll do it yourself. You want to fill as many of these bottles here as possible. Most girls manage two, some three. Mistress will enter half a dollar against your debt for each bottle you fill, but don’t exhaust yourself, and leave enough for the boy there. You’ve time before he’s at adoption age. Plenty of opportunities for a girl like you to make money in a place like this, I can tell you. Now, here, wrap this cloth around you and then hold the bottle firmly under your pretty little titty. See, now you knead then squeeze, knead then squeeze. That’s how you do it...”

And Lizzie sighed and lay back in the nest of pillows with her eyes closed as she felt the maid’s strong hands massaging her fat breasts and soothing the tightness in her skin before she began to caress the nipple and make the milk flow.

“That’s nice, the way you’re touching me, firm and steady,” she whispered, arching her back a little, and the maid clicked at her in mock annoyance.

“Hornier than a hound dog,” she muttered, shaking her head, but feeling just a little stirring of desire in her own fat pussy as she caressed Lizzie’s tits and smelt her sweet milk as it flowed into the bottles.

“Are you a milker too?” Lizzie suddenly asked, and the maid flushed under her dusky skin.

“I was for a while,” she admitted. “When I had my youngest. Mistress took me in and let me earn for her. I had good tits and a good yield, three or four bottles a day. Paid off my debt pretty soon. And the Mistress kept me on here, you know, when my supply dried up...”

“Yeah, I can see that your tits are good,” Lizzie whispered, almost moaned, the maid’s fat fingers squeezing rhythmically at her breast, relieving the hot itchy sensation as her pure white milk flowed. Like condensed milk out of a tin, one mother had described it. “You ever let another girl suck on you straight from the nipple? Or a man?”

The maid blushed again. “Hell, you are a horny one, good and true,” she said, still squeezing, the first bottle filled already and Lizzie’s cranberry red tips still flowing freely with nectar. “But, yeah, I had hot britches when I was milking too. And I let my man suck me, felt that big old thing of his all hard and rubbing on my thigh as he sucked. Gave me some milk of his own pretty soon too!”

Lizzie laughed, though her cunt was buzzing. “Do my other tit now,” she whispered. “But sit by me on the bed, I want to smell your hair while you touch me...”

The maid made an exasperated noise but sat down in a rustle of petticoats regardless, and leaned in close, expertly massaging Lizzie’s big breast before beginning to milk the nipple and fill the third bottle with thick creamy fluid.

“You smell real nice,” Lizzie encouraged, leaning her head on the maid’s huge bosom. “I’d have loved to milk you and see all your thick white nectar shooting into the bottles, all hot and steamy like a spring dawn...”

The maid laughed a little nervously. “I still got some,” she whispered. “Not much, but I keep it for my boy. He’s two now, and I needs to wean him soon. But I can still get enough to feed him. And then some...”

Lizzie’s hand shot out and carefully traced the contours of the maid’s fat breast and felt her quiver. “Show me,” was all she said.

The big woman looked hurriedly hither and thither, but all was silent in the cool blue corridor outside the room and, breathing heavily, she quickly unfastened the buttons of her starched uniform blouse. “You need to be quick, girl. You got that?”

And Lizzie nodded as she wordlessly pulled open the other woman’s shirt and gasped at the huge tits sitting nestled in the big white nursing bra, the smooth skin as glossy as fresh molasses, as the maid’s breasts rose and fell with her rapid breathing.

“Can I touch?”

The maid nodded. “There’s a flap, there, see. Undo it...”

And Lizzie felt her pussy turn to water as she gazed upon that huge dome, the skin as dark as bitter chocolate, the nipple upturned and erect, already damp with milk.

“I have to suck...”

“I know, be quick!”

And the woman tasted like the sugar cotton candy that Lizzie’s daddy had bought her on that far off day at the county fair. Like the white crème she licked out of chocolate bars, syrupy, sweet addictive...

“I need to fuck you,” she gasped, her bare cunt rubbing up and down the maid’s clothed thigh. “I need you naked and wet and I need to squeeze your gigantic tits and drink your milk while you drink mine, push my tongue inside your pussy and devour you...”

“Sure you do,” said the maid, getting up. “And, maybe, some night I’ll come by in the dark and do everything that you’ve dreamed of and more. But right now we’ve both got a job of work to do and the Mistress wants you downstairs when you’re done. Seems like she’s got a little milking of a different sort in mind for you today...”

***

The corridor was cool and echoey as Lizzie hurried along, her breasts still singing and her nipples hot and erect after their vigorous milking by the voluptuous maid. They had brought her new clothes, a selection of brightly coloured print frocks in fresh starched cottons; three white nursing bras; seven pairs of snug hipster panties and two pairs of low-heeled ballet pumps, one in a pretty strawberry pink, the other sunshine yellow.

And she’d selected a dress in creamy white with a bold sunflower print, the yellow pumps and, of course, the comfortable nursing bra with its neat button flaps at each swollen tit. But, remembering the exploits of the previous night, she’d left her panties off and strode bare-assed along the corridor, fantasising about her big full skirt blowing up and the Mistress getting an eyeful of her little blonde pussy.

But the Mistress, when she found her, was cold and businesslike, and Lizzie found it difficult to imagine that this stern woman before her had been slithering around naked on the big sofa in her room, begging to be fucked again and again and again.

“Ah, Lizzie, there you are,” she said without smiling. “A good first morning, I’m told, almost four units. Well done. We’ll be improving your diet too, so I expect great things from you, great things. Now, I’ve got a very important job for you this morning. Mr and Mrs Gottlieb here are very important clients and they’ve decided to have a baby of their own...”

Lizzie came out of her lascivious reverie and looked up, and, for the first time, became aware that there was someone else in the room. A woman sat in the shadows and small grey-haired man with little half-moon spectacles was perched uncomfortably in the big chair, his face anxious. He was expensively dressed like movie theatre gangster in a blue serge suit and gold pocket watch, but, despite his outer polish, Lizzie marked him immediately as a cheap shyster, the kind of man who her aunt would consort with, who made his money from the commissions on dodgy loans sold to tenant farmers so lacking in schooling that they didn’t even have enough letters to read the documents before they put their marks to them.

“...and Mrs Gottlieb has chosen Milton from our stud list,” the Mistress was saying. “So I need you to milk him for me this morning. If you’d like to go through to the clean room and begin, and our clients will observe from the gallery, here...”

She pulled on a cord as she spoke and heavy red velvet curtains swished soundlessly open, revealing two tiny circular windows looking into the next room, each about five inches in diameter and set level with the plush up-right chairs that faced them. “Please take your seats,” the Mistress intoned, and though Gottlieb shifted uncomfortably and stayed where he was, the youthful woman who accompanied him sprang eagerly to her feet and took her place.

She was easily young enough to be the old Jew’s granddaughter, Lizzie thought, with long coltish legs and firm high breasts, her hair dyed a gleaming platinum blonde and Marcel-waved in the latest style like a blonde Betty Boop. She was dripping in mink too, and the rocks around her neck were certainly not copies by the way that they shone, but her hands were rough and the nails had been bitten under their expensive French manicure, and Lizzie guessed that her good fortune had only been recently acquired.

The girl was sizing her up too, taking in her long white legs and full breasts, the little red hickey on the back of her neck when the Mistress had become overcome with desire and bitten her hard. “Kindred spirits, you and I,” Lizzie thought, meeting the girl’s eyes and winking, and the other woman returned her gaze and winked back. “Get every last drop, baby,” she whispered in a conspiratorial tone as they brushed past each other, her perfume strong and enticing. “I’ll be watching...”

***

Milton was eyeing her like a fox in a chicken coop as she sidled into the dim room with its soft lighting and plush papered walls, everything in muted shades of pale browns and creams like an expensive doctor’s waiting room. He was tall and good looking, but a bit worn around the edges, sort of Tom-Joad-meets-George-Raft, Lizzie reckoned, a rough upbringing slicked over by a year or two of good food and superb barbering.

“You the new milker?” he asked, eyeing her up and down and taking in her big swollen tits as though she were naked before him. “They always send the new girls when there’s a Daddy Warbucks out there buying spunk.”

He was dressed in a plain silk robe, and Lizzie suddenly realised with a jolt that he was nude underneath it, and starting to get hard.

“Ah, you’ve just worked out the kind of milking they want you to do, haven’t you?” he laughed, coarsely but not unkindly. “You know how to make a cock feel good, girl?”

Lizzie blushed but held her head high. “Sure I do,” she muttered, inhaling the scent of his overpowering parma-violet pomade and wondering if she should tell him that her pretty white ass was bare below her nice new dress.

“Okay, but this is a bit different. The object here is to get as much jizz out of me as you can squeeze. So no sucking, and definitely no licking. Just get me up real hard and then do it real slow, so that when I finally come it’ll be a gusher. Can you do that?”

“Reckon I got you pretty hard already,” Lizzie blushed as she regarded the way his robe was standing out in front of him. “In fact, I think you got boy scouts camping under there!”

Milton laughed and moved towards the comfortable leather sofa that faced the dark wall where the peepholes were situated. Then, knowing full well that he was being watched by the people in the next room, he unselfconsciously slipped his robe off and let it slide to the floor and stood naked and erect before her like an aroused art model, his body lean and muscular from years of hard labour. Chain gang, Lizzie thought. He was tall and lean with tow-coloured hair that was cut razor-short at the back and sides but with a long and oiled sweep on top, and his body, which at first looked smooth, was covered in a fine down that thickened at his chest and then flowed down his taut belly to his cock where it curled like a jungle around his huge genitals.

And though Tom Handley had possessed a dick that just made you just want to kneel down and suck it, Milton’s was in a class all of its own, jutting out obscenely from his briar patch like a polished branch stripped of its bark, maybe not as thick as Tom’s, but a good inch or two longer and curved up like one of those old Greek statues that they hid from ladies in fancy museums. And, unlike most of the men around here, he was uncut, the big inflamed head on his monster still half covered with the soft chamois of his hood, his huge heavy balls hanging low beneath, like fat Buddahs soaking up the sun.

“Like?” he asked, sitting down on the warm creased old leather and leaning back, his cock towering like a monolith, his hot hairy balls all sleek and fat.

Lizzie swallowed as she felt her already horny pussy puffing up with longing and getting wetter. “Sure do,” she managed to utter and he smiled again.

“Alright, there’s cords on the ground there, tie my feet and hands onto the rings on the sofa so that I’m splayed wide open. That’s right, tie me tight. Now there’s a collection bottle on the table there, I’ll tell you when I’m getting close. Be sure that you catch all of it when I come, and take it straight through to the Mistress as soon as you have it. One of the maids will come in and untie me, don’t worry...”

Lizzie swallowed again and licked her fingers, then knelt before him. Reached a tentative hand out and stroked his pubic hair, and felt a warm rush in her pussy at how soft it was. Like Mabel’s, not like a man’s at all.

“Start with my balls. You can’t lick them in case you contaminate my man-milk, but spend plenty of time feeling them before you get onto my cock, it drives me really wild and gets me super-stiff...”

“Hell, I think I know stallions that would be pretty god-damned envious of how stiff you are already,” Lizzie sighed, her hands in his warm fur and stroking his beautiful balls, feeling their weight and their warmth in her tiny childlike hands.

Milton tried to laugh, but he was starting to breathe heavily, and, as Lizzie watched, his cock gave a little twitch and swelled up, the big slippery red head sliding out of its foreskin and the thick blue veins bulging deliciously.

“You know how to please me, that’s for sure,” he murmured. “Now oil me up and down real slow. Pull the skin back as far as it will go, that’s it, really stretch it and expose me, then drag it all the way back up again. Hell, that’s good...”

Lizzie was panting herself by now, and her pussy was so wet that it felt like it was going to overflow with love juice.

“I so want to fuck you right now,” she whispered, and Milton nodded.

“Feeling’s mutual, girl, but totally taboo if you ever want to get out of this place,” he groaned softly, eating her up with his eyes as her hand slid up and down his huge cock like a piston engine in slow motion, the little slit yawning open and weeping a glittering clear liquid. “That’s why they have us tied down when we’re being milked...”

“Can I milk you naked?” Lizzie suddenly asked and the boy nodded.

“Clients like that,” he groaned. “Getting to stare at your sweet little ass while you milk my big stiff cock. That’s an extra bonus that has them coming back for more...”

“Well, they’re in for a treat,” Lizzie giggled, standing momentarily to pull her dress up over her head, her little golden cunt level with his face, the scent of her bare pussy mixing intoxicatingly with the animal smell of his exposed cock-head, like heady animal pheromones.

Milton whistled but his face was pained. “I’m close,” he confided. “But I want to see your big milky tits before I come. Take your bra off and squeeze them the way they’ve taught you, get them all milky, then reach for that collection bottle and really go to work on me...”

“Like this?” Lizzie asked, her thick creamy nectar quickly oozing from her swollen nipples as she felt his cock throbbing under her hand and reached for the bottle.

“Yes!” he yelled, arching his back and thrusting and bucking like a rodeo bronco. “Yes, yes, yes, YES!”

And then his hot steaming semen shot out of him and into the glass bottle, thick as fresh clotted cream, more and more and more of it as he writhed and yelled, Lizzie’s fingers never faltering as she drained him of every last drop.