Chapter 32
Refusing her was not getting easier. She wanted me. And I wanted her. My crotch throbbed violently. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this hard. It wasn’t time yet. I couldn’t do it.
Not even once we were alone in my room again.
“Please, Carter. Fuck me. Please,” My little cow pleaded.
Oh, how I wish I could. Or at least I could explain to her why I couldn’t. Instead of losing myself in that thought, I went to my desk.
“That milking session was just the beginning. Your body will be overproducing for a while. You’ll be more comfortable in our room.”
She looked confused as I wheeled a small cart towards her.
This was much like the ones used in hospitals, but mine was prepared for another type of treatment.
It held a smaller version of the suction machine with its vacuum pump, sex toys, oils, lube, even condoms, although we wouldn’t be using those.
I parked it next to my beautiful, spotted cow, and took off my suit.
I settled her in the contraption, where her tits were hanging, and rolled up my sleeves.
Slowly, I spread coconut oil across her tits.
The skin could get raw from too much suction or get stretch marks from growing so fast. None of it was a problem, but I wanted to make her comfortable.
Feeling her tits was an added bonus. Not to mention seeing how responsive she was.
Even my lightest touch made her whimper, moan, and shudder.
“Carter!”
“Shush, Tiff. My beautiful cow. I’ll take good care of you.”
“You keep teasing me,” she accused.
She wasn’t wrong. I was teasing her, denying what we both craved.
When her tits were fully oiled, I brought the suction cups out.
I locked them in place, one around each of her nipples.
Then I took a third, smaller one, and moved behind her.
Spreading her soaked pussy, I placed the suction cup on her clit.
Then I turned the machine on, loving the light sucking sound.
Tiffany came almost immediately. She bucked violently as she savored the pleasure.
Milk flowed from her perfect udders and her clit was pumped relentlessly.
“Ahh!” She shouted, her voice already weak.
She wanted more than that, I knew. She wanted to be fucked.
Since I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) give her that, I needed to make sure her experience was more than just intense.
It had to be mind-numbing. It had to rewrite her brain and permanently redefine pleasure.
I pulled a small set of beads from the cart – a lovely set of silicone anal beads ending in a rubber loop for me to use.
I coated the beads in lube as Tiffany bucked violently, shaking the whole machine in orgasmic bliss.
I held her waist down, spread her cheeks open with one hand, and worked the smallest bead into her tight ass.
She barely felt it. When the second one slid in, she looked over her shoulder, bell jiggling.
“C-Carter?”
“You’re such a good, sweet cow. Enjoy everything I give you, including these anal beads,” I encouraged.
She moaned and trembled, already on the edge of another orgasm.
I worked in the next bead – slightly larger.
She grunted and closed her eyes as her thighs tensed for a moment.
Pleasure won and she relaxed again. The next bead, larger, but not too big.
She took it and moaned louder, her pussy drooling for me.
Then another bead. She screamed my name as she came apart, milk dripping from her nipples, wetness gushing from her perfect cunt.
Her milk and nectar are all for me to enjoy.
When the final bead was inside her, I wiggled them, bringing her attention to her ass.
When my little cow was about to come, I pulled the string.
Not fast, but not slow. A continuous pull to allow her time to feel each bead stretching her tight hole as it left her ass.
She came so hard that I questioned all her previous orgasms for a moment.
Tiffany was incoherent from that point onwards.
I didn’t stop. She wanted to be fucked, and I’d give her everything but my own package.
I’d prove exactly how devoted I was to her pleasure and happiness.
I used vibrating dildos, an egg shaped toy that buzzed inside her, everything I had available for her to enjoy while I tortured and rewarded myself with her orgasms. I savored each of them even after losing count, all while denying myself even one touch.
It was the best twenty minutes of my life, bar-none.
When the machines were done milking her and her tits were empty, she was a whimpering, delirium riddled mess.
She almost collapsed as I loosened her straps.
I was happy to carry her to bed. She stirred at the edge of consciousness, as if threatening to sink into a pleasure-induced coma.
My crotch throbbed. The pressure was unbearable.
When I was convinced Tiffany was asleep, I moved to the bathroom.
I didn’t bother closing the door. I unveiled myself in the mirror and looked at my crotch.
I could barely stand the sight, but I did.
I was rock hard, which only made what was deeply wrong with me more evident.
“You are a monster, Carter,” I told myself.
My hands wrapped around the thick, throbbing, grotesque display that rose between my legs and I pumped hard.
I touched myself like I hated myself, because I did.
I masturbated violently, refusing to think about anything except Tiffany, the pleasure I gave her, how good it felt to use her wetness as lube.
When I finished, I sprayed the sink and mirrors with my cum, as if trying to hit my reflection.
I came hard while thinking of Tiffany’s orgasms, my cow’s transformation.
Then, frustratingly, I watched the hardness between my legs to make sure I was done.
“I’m a monster,” I panted, leaning on the sink. I looked back at the silhouette of my beautiful cow sleeping on our bed. “But I still want her.”