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  Finally, he untied her, put her in her obedient cow position in the mud, brought the three-legged stool from the barn and milked her firmly from the side just as he would have milked the farmhouse cow. She wept again as she saw her lovely, pale milk splattering into the dirt – then sobbed with delight as his insistent tugging flushed her dangling breasts with the heat of another climax, without him even touching her cunt.

  ‘Bastard!’ she sobbed. ‘Bastard! You made me come through my tits.’

  ‘Best way to come, my dear.’ He gave her repeated sex tremors, milking her nipples into the mud. ‘And I didn’t hear you say no.’

  ‘You fucking cunt, stranger,’ she grunted, arching her back and letting him milk her rhythmically again and again. ‘You gorgeous cunt!’

  She also found he had a taste for taking her unawares. One morning, she was kneeling in the vegetable plot, plucking the weeds out from between the hard, green zucchini. She heard him approach behind her, then felt him tip her forward, raise her dress and spread her legs aggressively and slap her backside. She yelled and cursed him, loving every moment of the rough handling. He rolled her onto her back and straddled her chest, unzipping his pants as she spat and hissed at him, already highly aroused. He just laughed, with his shaft sticking up in the sunlight, and grabbed one of the largest zucchini from the row, snapping it off its tendrils. The damn thing was nearly a foot long and looked like his big, stiff cock, and they both knew it.

  Without speaking, he put it to her mouth – and, to her own amazement, she sucked at it eagerly like a cock. When it was soaking with her saliva, he took it and held behind him, placing it against the lips of her vulnerable cunt.

  She squirmed and pretended to resist, but the wetness of her labia betrayed her lust. He penetrated her with the zucchini, hard and fast, making her utter a wail of delight that echoes around the farm. He silenced her by applying his cock to her mouth, forcing her to suck him in the same rhythm that he was using to screw her with the vegetable.

  When they were both done, and she had climaxed madly on the hard girth of the zucchini, and he had poured his blasts of semen into her submissive mouth, they sprawled and dozed together in the sunshine, then went back to their chores.

  One of her most erotic times happened one evening, on the porch. There was an old four-person swing seat left over from years back, that creaked as it moved. At sunset, the stranger settled back with a cold beer, and instructed her to undress and lay across his lap, face down. She did so, arranging herself across him with her bare backside in his lap. The porch lanterns were burning, and the mesh screens kept out the bugs, and he caressed her rump very tenderly, telling her what a good woman she was, and what a good milk cow she was turning out to be.

  ‘You really think so?’ she smiled.

  ‘Oh, yes. Of all the women I’ve milked, and, damn, there’s quite a few, you are turning out to be the prettiest, most obedient and most abundant in your supply of girl juice.’

  She giggled at the compliment, raising her ass in the hope of some more attention from his hand. He gave it to her. He began to spank her softly with his right hand, and with his left hand he reached under her torso and gathered her tits together in his palm. She raised herself a little, giving him full access, and found that he knew how to bring her nipples together in his one hand, squeezing the two big studs together over and over again. With a cry, she began to release her milk, and he spanked her ass gently with one hand, and milked her tits firmly with the other hand, sending her streams of fluid to splatter on the porch floor. When she was almost spent, she clambered up and straddled him, offering him her swollen breasts in turn. He suckled briefly on each tit, sucking the nipple with the same expertise he used when milking her by hand, and she gladly fed him her last supplies of the day.

  *

  As time went on, Beth realised his work around the farm was coming to completion. The roof was all done, and the fences were efficiently repaired. He tended the ditches too, and installed a new wind pump for the well. After that, she began to hurriedly think of other things he could do, and he also suggested a few himself.

  He cut down a dead tree near the creek and chopped it into a massive stack of firewood. He filled all the holes in the yard and put in a gate that he made from spare lumber. She complained about the window shutters, and he took them all down, planed and oiled them, and put them back up. He went over the roof a second time, painting the gables and fixing on a weather vane that he carved himself.

  ‘It’s in the shape of a cockerel,’ she observed, looking up at it. ‘A big, swinging cock. Typical of a man.’

  That night, he stayed up late, whittling and carving. The next day, she found him fixing another weather vane, facing the first one. This new vane was in the shape of a pussy cat.

  ‘I got my cock, you got your pussy,’ he said, as they squinted up at the ornaments from down in the yard. He wiped his hands. ‘I guess my work here is pretty much done.’

  ‘What about firewood?’ she said, breathless.

  ‘You got a year’s worth in the barn. Two years, if it doesn’t snow hard.’

  ‘The kitchen door,’ she added.

  ‘I fixed it up. It’s like a bank vault, girl.’

  ‘But, but – ‘

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘The horse is lame.’

  ‘I took her for a new shoe last week. I never saw a horse so happy and frisky now as yours today. What else?’

  Beth ran inside, slamming the screen door, past the swing seat, and stood at the kitchen table, her fists in her eyes. She heard him follow her in, and through her tears she saw him standing in the doorway, looking at her.

  ‘There’s still work for you to do here, stranger,’ she sobbed. ‘There’s still so much for you to do.’

  ‘Yeah? Like what, girl?’

  She pulled her dress off and stood facing him, naked. She cupped her hands under her jug-shaped tits and stroked the sides with her thumbs.

  ‘Look at these,’ she urged him. ‘Just look at them. They need milking every day. They need tugging and sucking on too. That’ll be your work if you stay with me.’

  ‘Hmm.’ He studied the magnificent pair that she displayed to him, watching as she caressed her erect nipples to show off their size and firmness. ‘Well, milk cow, they do need a lot of milking. And I am a milking man. But what else needs doing around here?’

  She opened her mouth and waggled her tongue at him, then said, ‘This pretty mouth of mine needs filling with a stiff cock. My lips need to be stretched around a knob. You can do that kind of work, can’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I can, if I put my mind to it. What else?’

  She dried her eyes and smiled. She turned around and showed him her ass, its superb proportions marked out with the welts of a recent pleasure-punishment.

  ‘You see this backside? It needs some good, firm treatment every day. It needs to be gripped, then spanked, and just occasionally whipped with the cow whip from the barn.’ She leaned forward and spread her ass provocatively, knowing he would get a clear view of her anus. ‘And you’ve done no work at all on this little asshole yet. I heard that other farm girls get in in there all the time from their men. Why, there’s months of labour to be done there.’ She turned around to find him nodding in agreement.

  ‘Yes, girl, that is an important task that someone will have to undertake someday. And I do have some experience in that kind of work.’

  ‘I thought so. And what about all this?’ Beth cupped her fleshy cunt lips and stroked her thumb over her pussy area. ‘This whole thing needs to be lathered and razored weekly without fail. It needs to be licked and tickled and frigged every morning, or there’s trouble.’ She parted her labia with both hands and let the sunlight shine on her pink inner flesh and the swell of her modest clitoris. ‘Now, you’ve broken in this thing nicely, I have to admit, and trained it up well. But your work on this isn’t finished, stranger. You need to fuck it more, and harder, and rougher. I need it full of hot se
men on a daily basis, and I don’t care what happens. Don’t you want to take that work on, sir? Hmm?’ She put her head on one side and blinked at him innocently. ‘We can have a long, warm winter by the fire, burning all that wood you chopped. You can take as long as you like to finish your work. How about that?’

  He frowned in thought, studying her open cunt.

  ‘Well, my pretty cow. I do like you and your farm, and there is a whole lot of intensive work to be carried out on that beautiful body that nature gave you to enjoy. Yes, I think I will stay over the winter, and maybe into the summer as well.’

  She leaped up and down, clapping her hands in excitement. He took off his hat and hung it on the peg behind the door, then took his snakeskin boots off and put them by the stove.

  ‘Now,’ he said, ‘place a dish on the floor and get over it in your milk cow position.’

  She obeyed eagerly, getting on her hands and knees over the dish. He straddled her from the rear, cupped her tits and began his fondling, kneading and tugging. She felt her nipples quiver erect at his touch, and soon that familiar, delicious glow began to spread through her breasts, right to the tips. With a gasp of delight, she gave two long spurts of womanly juice, and the daily milking began.

  ‘You’re a good little milk cow, aren’t you?’ he murmured.

  ‘Yes, stranger.’ Beth wiggled her ass very happily against his crotch. ‘Yes, sir, I am.’

  ***

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  Spanking – Age Play – Elder Masters

  Little Flo was awakened by her Matron when the sun was already high.

  Flo clambered drowsily out of bed, and held her arms up so that Matron could pull the nightshirt over Flo’s head. Matron folded the shirt away neatly, then turned to study Flo’s naked form.

  ‘Gracious, Flo!’ Matron said. ‘Your body is flourishing in all manner of ways. We can’t have this, can we? Your Guardian won’t like it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Matron,’ Flo yawned.

  ‘Well, I suppose it’s not your fault.’

  Matron’s gaze flickered over Flo’s body, from her elegant shoulders, strewn with her red-blonde hair tresses, to her small, pear-shaped breasts dotted with freckles and tipped with puffy, conical nipple studs. Flo felt her buds harden and lift under the woman’s examination. Matron smiled, and let her gaze move down to Flo’s narrow waist, her broad hips and, between her sculpted thighs, the triangle of gingery fuzz that covered her labial curves.

  ‘A bath and a shaving, Flo my girl. That’s what you need before you see your Guardian today.’

  ‘Yes, Matron.’

  The bath was readied in the centre of the bed chamber: a wide tin tub filled with warm water. Flo knew the ritual well by now. She stood in the water, enjoying the warmth over her ankles, while Matron washed her down firmly with a rough hessian cloth and carbolic soap. Matron washed Flo’s neck, then her armpits which she tut-tutted about, seeing the sprinkling of ginger fluff growing rampant in there too. Matron washed the girl’s titties abrasively, dragging the sackcloth over the stiff, chunky nipples, making them even harder. She cleansed Flo’s cunny with a circular motion, using her fingers to part the central groove and apply the cloth within. She washed the demure dimple at the top of the labia, swirling the cloth inside the little pucker. Then she turned Flo around and made her touch her toes, forcing her bottom to stick out sharply . . .

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