Page 45 of Milking His Lass

Though our conversation is normal—milk production costs and income, harvest numbers, pest control, and the like—it feels far more intimate than any breakfast before. It’s all because of Fiona. Before her, I was the same as the Ranch Hands, drinking my fill from the boss’s heifer.

Now, I can contribute to the household. Such a small thing, but it means so much. If they want, the men can now go for seconds, even thirds. Though none of them would dare indulge that much. Too much milk makes working in the heat that much harder.

But still… The ability is there where it wasn’t before. Looking over the table, I smile at Vrokjan, noting the ease in which he handles his cow. It’s like second nature to him. Even now, as he talks to us, he wraps his hand around Jessica’s ankle, calming her as only he can.

I hope to be that show of strength and force to Fiona, but honestly, she doesn’t seem to need it. It’s as if she and Jessica are complete opposites. As much as I love being a Rancher Icorian, I do so find the Earthling’s minds fascinating.

If I hadn’t craved milk so much, I might have been a Medical Personnel or even a Medical Rancher… But I find I’m far happier here. Having my own cow just solidified everything, as if the last puzzle piece clicked into place.

Mimicking my boss, I ease my hand around Fiona’s ankle, smiling when she looks down at me with that flushed, breathless expression of hers. I love that I can do that to her. I can take this formidable human and turn her into a quivering mess of need and mooing.

Both cows rock back and forth on the table, their cries shattering through the soft din. All of us take a moment and watch, appreciating the beauty of their release as it unfolds. It’s a sight we will never tire of, and more than likely why many of us went into this field in the first place.

Glancing at the tubes, I note Fiona’s production slowing down. She’s very nearly drained. Jessica’s looks the same despite having far much more milk than she does. With a sigh, I finish my cereal and set the bowl to the side before unhooking Fiona from the tubes.

Vrokjan does the same and we help our cows off of the table and to the soft pillow beside our chairs. Like a good little pet, Fiona makes no noise over the greens I place in her bowl. She does, however, look over at Jessica, her head tilted as she watches Vrokjan tap some white powder on top.

Protein, but she doesn’t know that. When I went back to get her for dinner last night, we didn’t discuss anything dealing with Jessica. I watch as my pet’s mouth twitches, and I know she longs to ask, but remains quiet. Such a good little human.

As much as she likes pain, she seems to really dislike punishment. Which, honestly, works well for me, seeing as I detest having to dish out retribution of any kind. I guess this is another way in which we are perfect for each other.

Until now, I really didn’t believe in nonsense such as perfect mates or predestined lovers sent by the Celestials. However, the more time I spend in Fiona’s presence, the more I’m starting to question my ways of thinking. Clearly someone looked out for me as they created her.

Tenderness gathers in my chest as I watch her eat, her delicate neck bending as she takes the greens from the bowl like a house-trained calf. Her fiery hair cascades in front, impeding her vision. For a moment, I watch, amused, as she pushes it back, until frustration causes her frame to vibrate.

That won’t do. Hunching down beside her, I urge her to sit up so I can braid her hair. It’s something I learned while helping with my sisters, but I never imagined doing it for a lover of mine. Fiona leans into my touch, a soft sigh slipping from her lips as I brush my fingers through her hair.

With practiced skill, I put her hair into a tight braid, pulling it all away from her face. With no tie to hold it in place, I simply twist the rest into a bun and slide the end of a fork through the knot. It looks ridiculous, but does the job.

Across the way, Vrokjan does the same until two braids go down Jessica’s back. With both cows attended to, they eat while the rest of us finalize our plans. So much needs to be done now that the cows have been acquired. While the Ranch Hands attend to the rest of the herd, Vrokjan and I need to make plans for the rest of the ranch.

Though Fiona already has her plug in for the day, Jessica is nowhere near ready. Once everyone is done, I take my cow back to the room to get her hooves and kneepads. As with every time I’ve taken her somewhere, she leaves without a fuss.

Once we get to the room, however, she sits back as best as her tail will allow her and tilts her head. “What is my task for the day, then?”

“Task?”

“Yes. Am I to haul hay? Do I ferret around in the dirt to help you plant crops?”

I chuckle as I gather her things and motion for her to go to the bed. “No, sweet pet. Nothing like that. You are going to lounge about outside with the other cows while the men and I work.”

“Wait. So nothing? I have nothing?”

“Is that so abhorrent to you?”

For a moment, she sits there, her brow furrowing as if deep in thought. “Well. Not really. I just don’t usually do nothing unless it’s a day off or I’m sick.” Shaking her head, she climbs up to the bed and holds out her hands.

“Then I suggest you pretend to be ill. Think of this as a…” I pause for a moment, riffling through my lexicon for the correct word. “Vacation?”

“Yes,” she murmurs. “But a year-long vacation? Maybe even longer? I’m not sure I can do that.”

I pause and cup her breast, giving her a tender kiss just on the tip of her nipple. “Think of it this way. Your body is working hard to provide us with milk. Additionally, your milk is going to be sold to others for their nourishment. Not just enjoyment only. The children of Icora depend on what you offer. If that isn’t worth taking your rest while your body does the hard part, then I don’t know what is.”

Her lips turn down for a moment as she turns her wrists about, looking at her hooves. “That does nothing for my mind. I’m not used to not having my mind working. I’m worried I’ll lose my mental edge.”

A frown pulls down my lips as I lean back. “What was your job on Earth?”

For a moment, she hedges, as if she really doesn’t want to say. “I was a systems analyst. Basically, I created programs to help others with their tasks.”

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