Chapter 19

 

Von looked back at him as he unlocked the gate. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

Troy scratched his chin, giving his friend a shrug. “With what you’ve told me already? What you’ve already shown me? I don’t think it’s possible for me to resist seeing what you’re up to.”

With a broad grin, tiny droplets of the clear morning mist clinging to his light brown beard, Von swung the rusted iron gate wide, a winding dirt path leading downhill toward the low-slung white clapboard building beyond. “It’s not what I’m up to. It’s what this whole town is up to.”

Surrounded by a huge swath of green pasture, wisps of grayish fog hanging here and there just above the ground, the place looked every bit like a dairy shed. It was something Troy knew well from his childhood on the outskirts of Puyallup, WA.

Back then, his hometown seemed to have more livestock than people.

He didn’t see a single cow in these fields though.

The pasture spread up a gentle hill beyond the shed, a driveway snaking up the side of the promontory via several switchbacks, a gorgeous hunter green and slate colored multi-story house dominating the crest. It was one of the most impressive properties he’d seen yet — and the area, out of all proportion to its isolated locale, seemed blessed with an abundance of them.

The morning was still chilly, and Troy pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders. “I’d never have thought they’d have cow pastures this far up the valley.”

White Valley it was called, an innocuous, anonymous name on the map, tucked deep into the eastern foothills of Washington’s Cascades range.

“This place is full of surprises,” Von said out of the corner of his mouth, leading the way down the path, his big boots clomping in the dirt.

The hulking man was one of Troy’s former squad mates, serving with him during their multiple tours in the AfPak theater. They’d been fast friends in the service, and they’d considered themselves brothers. But the war had taken a toll on both of them, and they’d coped in different ways. They’d lost contact since they’d taken their discharge papers. Though his scars had healed, Troy knew the regret of drifting away from his friend never would.

So, the day his phone had rung, Von’s deep, gravelly voice on the other end, had been a good day indeed.

But he’d never have believed things would have progressed as fast as they had since then. There was a whole lot more to staff sergeant Von Ellison than Troy ever imagined.

“I’m not even sure if Keenan’s here, but I told him we’d swing by for a visit. Maybe we can catch him at work on the girls.”

“Girls?”

He’d known a few dairy farmers who’d grown attached to their cows, even a couple who refused to send them off for slaughter after their production waned.

Von gave him a wink. “You’ll see. Easier than trying to explain this shit.”

The door to the shed creaked as Von pulled it open, the familiar smells of hay, dirt, and fresh milk wafting out. The scent held a strangely familiar note — but it was not one he’d associated with his childhood memories of the dairy farms of his hometown.

It was much warmer inside the building, the air humid. Both men shed their jackets as they moved deeper inside, the door swinging closed behind them with a thunk. Lit by a long bank of overhead fluorescent lights, Von led Troy down a row of milking stalls. Troy could make out some movement up ahead, but it was too far to be sure what it was.

It looked like something flailing up and down, but one of the concrete stall walls blocked most of the view.

As they drew closer, it quickly became apparent what it was.

It was a tall, dark-haired man, wielding a long, thin lash, methodically whipping something.

Or someone.

As they drew close, the man noticed his visitors, and he turned toward them. As he leaned an elbow on the top of the stall wall, the length of leather dangling loosely from his fist, his keen gaze studied them for a moment. Then he flashed them a tight smile, lifting his chin. “Come on in, gentlemen.”

“Thanks, Keenan. Hoped we’d catch you before you got to work.” Von tipped his head toward Troy. “Wanted him to see what you get up to here.”

Keenan grinned then, his white teeth set off by a neatly trimmed brown goatee, his square jaw and strong brows an interesting contrast to a brilliant gray-eyed gaze that bespoke a sharp intellect. “You’re just in time then.” He extended a hand toward Troy. “You must be Von’s guest. Welcome.”

Troy shook the man’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. Keenan, was it?”

A soft gasp could be heard somewhere beyond the stall wall.

“Keenan Wingate. That’s me.” He glanced behind him, at whatever awaited beyond the partition. “I think my girl is a little nervous about… new visitors.”

Keenan flashed Von an intent look. “You told him, right?”

“Not exactly. Figured… might be best to just show him.”

Keenan tsked. “Ellison, you shouldn’t have.” He flicked a glance at Troy. “Your friend here. He’s testing you, I think.”

“Testing?”

What the fuck is going on here?

Von arched a thick eyebrow. “He can take it. Troy’s been in the shit, just like me. And I know what he gets up to at home with that cute little wife of his. She’s a good girl.”

“Damn right.” Troy’s cock stirred a little at the thought of his curvy, gorgeous Lacey.

His last vision of her had been of Lacey sitting in her rocker, dressed only in her faded pajama bottoms, the cups of her pump pressed firmly to her swollen breasts. Hayden was still fast asleep in his crib, Lacey mouthing “goodbye” to him, her cheeks flushing profusely as they always did whenever Troy insisted on watching her put her dark red nipples to her pump.

Snap out of it. Probably not the time to be sporting wood, you dipshit.

Keenan watched the two of them for a moment, as if evaluating what he should do next. Then he stepped back from the wall, sweeping an arm to his left. “Come on over to this side, boys. View’s better from over here.”

What Troy saw as he walked around the partition made his jaw fall open.

There was a subtle note of apology in Keenan’s hushed voice as they looked upon the sight. “She sometimes needs a little encouragement to put herself in position.”

Crouched tightly over on the bare concrete, her knees to her breasts, was a naked woman. Her skin was a pale cream, flawless, her hair a fiery auburn mess where she rested a cheek against her folded arms. Her round buttocks were scored with numerous pink and red lines, a few of them wrapping around the fullness of her hips.

Troy’s cock was already lengthening, even before he saw the dangling cups where they’d been draped over the upper of two white enamel painted rails that traversed the stall. The pair of parallel bars were much lower than what he’d remembered for a milking set-up… but then it was immediately apparent that this milking stall wasn’t intended for cows.

Black leather cuffs, affixed to gleaming silver chain hung at either end from the upper rail, a broad pad of worn leather affixed to the floor directly below. Appending from the lower rail were several supple leather straps, tiny buckles at the ends.

“Let’s be a good girl, sweetheart,” Keenan said, tapping her hip with the lash. “I don’t want to have to use this again — especially now that we have observers. Show these fine men what a nice, obedient girl is expected to do here.”

She hid her blushing face against her arms, the thick locks of her hair nearly concealing her face. But her muffled reply could clearly be heard. “Yes… sir.”

“Good,” Keenan said, beaming. He stepped over to the railing, crouching down until his faded blue jeans stretched over his muscular thighs, the length of deadly leather laid over the denim. Picking up one of the cups, he held it before her. “Let’s get you hooked up now that we’ve addressed your silly little defiance.”

She moved her head, whispering. “Could we... do it another time? I can still wait, if—”

Keenan’s eyes narrowed. “Are you refusing me again, dear?”

A tremble coursed down her body, goose-flesh breaking out upon the curves of her well-scourged buttocks. “No, sir.”

“Then let’s get you up to the rails.” Keenan turned his head toward the two men. “Might want to walk around to the front. Can get a better look at how this works up there.” Keenan gave them a sly little smile. “Though I must admit, the view is pretty damned nice back here too.”

Von chuckled, smacking Troy on the shoulder. “Come on. This is… interesting.”

Making their way around to the other side of the row of stalls, they looked down upon the woman as she crawled forward, rising slightly to press her chest to the metal rails. It was at that moment that Troy realized the rails were angled toward them, the lower set further back than the upper one. Keenan’s fingers deftly took hold of each nipple in turn, using them to pull her breasts through, the soft mammaries hanging down, squeezed slightly between the painted rails.

Keenan affixed her wrists to the cuffs. “Sorry about her behavior,” he said softly. “She knows Von very well, but she’s not used to newcomers when she’s down here in her stall. Just a little embarrassed, that’s all.” He patted her bottom. “Introduce yourself, sweetheart.”

She looked up at them, her cheeks scarlet, her pretty blue eyes brimming. Her nipples were long and very hard, their color of the palest pink. “I’m Amy.” She swallowed, her lip trembling though she managed a wan smile. “Amy Wingate.”

“Very pretty,” Von murmured, his eyes flashing, mouth curved in a half smile.

Holy shit.

Troy’s tongue was threatening to stick to the roof of his mouth. “You… you’re—?”

“Yes,” Keenan said, taking up the dangling leather straps. He drew one around the base of one of her breasts. “This is my wife.”

Her blush darkening still further, she dropped her gaze as Keenan cinched the leather around both of her breasts. She was quite well-endowed already, and the pressure of the bindings only made her breasts appear more generous. Troy couldn’t help but notice the fine tracery of bluish veins, the way the nipples seemed to swell even more.

You’ve got tits on the brain, my man. You’ve been watching Lacey too much.

He knew deep down that he’d never get enough of his bewitching wife. Her swollen breasts leaking with her sweet milk just made him want her even more.

“Ready, dear?”

Troy knew Keenan’s question to the kneeling Amy was a rhetorical one.

Keenan strode around the side, joining them in front of his helplessly bound wife. “Now, once she’s cinched up nice and snug, we can start the pump.” He slapped the metal and glass cylinder that was mounted to the end of one of the stall walls, the clear tubing attached to the cups terminating at the top of the glass portion. “But first, I like to get her started a little before slapping the cups on. Excuse me, fellas.”

Dropping to one knee in front of his wife, Keenan touched her cheek for a moment, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. Then she took a deep breath, shuddering in her bonds.

Her husband’s hands gently squeezed and kneaded the woman’s soft, vulnerable breasts, gripping them at the base, then massaging them down toward the tips, pinching and twisting the pink nipples slowly between thumb and forefinger. He pulled gently at each tip, and she gasped.

Then he did it all over again.

“Helps to give each breast a really good massage — the tighter the better — to encourage the milk to let down.”

Von grunted. “I don’t think she minds, either.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Keenan shrugged, continuing to work her flesh between his strong fingers. “It can get uncomfortable for her if she’s very full. But I guarantee if you went around the other side and felt between her thighs, you’d find her cunt is practically dripping.” He stroked her lowered chin. “Isn’t that right, my horny girl?”

“Y-yes, sir.” Her voice warbled on the last syllable.

Troy shifted his weight, keenly aware of the tightness at his groin. “Wait. You mean… you’re really going to milk her?”

Keenan looked back at them, nodding, continuing to massage and squeeze the pinioned breasts. “It’s okay. Ask any questions you like. I recognize this… isn’t something one sees every day.”

Up until that moment, Troy had still hung on to the idea that this was some sort of elaborate role-play, an exercise in exhibitionism and objectification.

But this?

Judging by the aching hardness of his cock, this was apparently just fine too.

Jesus, you get more fucked up every day.

His mind was already turning though, whirling into motion, the thoughts coming fast. All of it circled back to the sweet, obedient woman waiting at home for him. He suddenly had some ideas for additional areas of… exploration.

“How did you, uh, get them started?” Troy felt sheepish asking the question, but the woman didn’t look pregnant in the least, her figure very pleasingly curvy in all the right places, but obviously not carrying a child.

“How long’s it been?” Keenan turned back to his work. “What do you think, Von? Six months?”

“Wasn’t it John Mitchell that gave you the idea?”

Keenan laughed softly. “It was! Jesus, that was a helluva day. That must have been — shit, almost a year ago?”

“Has to be.” Von spoke the words quietly to Troy then, as Keenan concentrated on his work. “We have regular Accountings here. Kind of like your Maintenance Nights, only in a group.”

“No shit?” Troy’s cock was almost screaming.

“Yeah. Messed up, right? You’ll love it.” Von nodded toward the kneeling man. “Keenan here was running the show that day. After a couple accountings had already been doled out, he called up Kendra — John Mitchell’s wife — and she stood front and center, her blouse soaked at the nipples.”

Troy’s throat was so tight, he had to swallow to be sure he could still breathe.

“John explained it was part of her accounting, that he’d recently induced lactation, and that she’d been so defiant that week, he decided to hold off on milking her. Well, the sight and sound of the other women getting their just deserts apparently caused her to let down right there as she waited. John hadn’t planned it at all, but loved the effect.”

Amy whimpered as Keenan cruelly twisted her nipples.

“Almost done, dear.”

“Anyway,” Von continued. “John and Keenan got together, shared notes. And the rest is history.”

Troy rubbed his chin. “Jesus, that’s… I don’t know what that is.”

“Fucked up is what it is.” Von glanced downward pointedly. “But it has the same effect on all of us — so don’t feel bad.”

Troy suppressed the urge to adjust himself, knowing the bulge at his crotch was quite obvious. There wasn’t anywhere for his erect cock to go in the snug confines of his jeans though, so he’d just have to tough it out.

“There, I think she’s ready now.” With one last groan-inducing pull on each of Amy’s nipples, Keenan rose to his feet, looking down at his bound wife. “What do you say?”

She lifted her head, the bright track of a single tear coursing down her cheek. Her face was beet red as she said the words. “Please may I have the cups… sir?”

“Of course, beautiful,” Keenan intoned, plucking up the black rubber of the cups. “Oh, almost forgot.”

Keenan crouched down again, the clear tubing draped over one shoulder. Gripping one breast at the base, he squeezed it quite hard just above the areola, working his fingers down to the nipple. Several bluish-white droplets appeared at the tip, and he swiped them away, coating the edges of one cup with a fine film of milk.

She whimpered again, but didn’t move.

“Helps to get a good seal,” Keenan said, doing the same with the other bound breast. “There!”

Reaching up, he flipped a switch at the bottom of the metal part of the canister, a low hum filling the space.

She took a sharp breath as he fitted the molded rubber to each pendent breast, the suction pulling the cups tight against her.

“That’s a girl,” Keenan said in a low voice, caressing her breasts for a moment, the white milk beginning to splash into the glass portion of the pump above. “Just let it all come out for us.”

She dropped her head again, a single tear falling to the concrete below.

Pulling himself to his feet, the three men watched the study in abject objectification in rapt, aroused silence. Troy, unable to bear the tension, finally broke the quiet. “How long does it take?”

It was a stupid question, he knew, but he blurted it out anyway, his extreme arousal rendering the process of forming coherent thought into something that took real effort.

“Fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe? Sometimes, I’ll fuck her while she’s at the cups, but I find she produces less. I think it distracts her a little.” Keenan crossed his arms, glancing at Troy. “She’ll give me a good sixteen, twenty ounces no matter what, but if I can avoid fucking her until after she’s completely drained, she’ll sometimes give me almost thirty.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Troy breathed, not sure if he was cursing the amount of milk, or his own insanely strong arousal. He’d never so much as thought of such a thing being done to a woman, and yet there he was, standing there watching it, his cock like a steel billy club in his jeans.

“Where are my manners?” Keenan extended an arm toward his kneeling wife, meeting Troy’s gaze. “Would you care to use her? You’re welcome to either end.”

Troy had to suppress his groan at the imagery the words elicited. “Uh, no thanks.”

“You sure? She’s quite used to it.” Keenan flicked a glance at Von, then back at Troy. “Ellison’s been here quite a few times while she’s knelt here in her stall. I’m sure he can vouch for her… eagerness.”

Bright blue eyes peered up at them, uncertainty, shame — and perhaps a hint of curiosity — swimming in their depths.

“No, really.” Troy held up a hand. “It’s not that I… hell, I don’t know what I’m saying. Just, yeah, I better not.”

Keenan chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s all right. No need to rush things. If all goes as Von thinks they might, you’ll have plenty more opportunities. I’m a generous sort.”

Von laughed at that, even as his fingers worked at the buckle of his belt. “Suit yourself, Troy. But I think you’re crazy.” He walked around to the other side of the stall, opening his fly as he dropped to his knees behind the waiting, bound Amy. Her eyes went wide, and she looked back at Von as he clasped her hip with one hand, freeing the truncheon of his cock. “You sure you don’t mind, Keenan?”

“She’s just about done anyway. Enjoy yourself.” Keenan leaned one hand against the top bar, his wife meeting his gaze. “Now, you be a good girl for him. You do whatever he asks, as if he were me. Understand?”

An explosion of color darkened her cheeks once more, her slender throat working. “Yes, sir.”

Von pushed into her in one long, urgent stroke, drawing a soft moan from the kneeling, bound woman. Taking up a leisurely thrusting, her hips gripped tightly in his big hands, he looked over at Troy from beyond the bars.

“Sure you don’t wanna talk about moving?”