Page 15 of Milk
“Yes, well, I heard that he has a pretty big cock and fucks like a bull. I wouldn’t mind being bred like his cow,” Jen answered, laughing.
“But,” Brenda began. “How can people know he has a big cock if he hasn’t fucked anyone down here?”
“Oh. My. God,” Jen exploded. “Brenda, SHUT. THE.FUCK. UP.”
I heard their footsteps coming close and to my surprise, a group of beautiful, somewhat skinny, smooth-skinned naked women approached my stall. They had nothing on except a little plastic earring like the types put on cattle with a GPS tracker. Their breasts were disproportionally massive compared to their slender figures. Though, my tits were still bigger.
The leader of the group, Jen, I presumed, looked at me and scoffed.
“Oh, look this sad fat fuck here. What’s wrong with your skin, girl?” Jen asked.
I tried to tell her to fuck off, but my mouthpiece turned it into incomprehensible gibberish. She laughed. “Sorry, I don’t speak ‘pig-lish’.”
Jen knelt in front of my stall, picking a piece of straw from the floor and poking my breasts with it. My skin was so sore and sensitive, I grunted. That was all I could do with the metal keeping my mouth open. She laughed with a cruel glint to her eyes.
“Look at thosefat, ugly tits. They must go down to your knees when you stand up, huh?” she mocked, “And you smelledlike piss. No wonder none of the farmhands have touched you ... yet.”
I had no idea how she knew that, or why she was teasing me. I’d planned to ask them for help to escape. Now I was being teased and tortured by a fellow ‘prisoner’ for no reason. Tears formed in the corner of my eyes. Jen noticed.
“Don’t cry, little piggy. I’m sure they’ll find some blind farmhand that doesn’t mind the smell. At least you’ll get to feel dick for once in your sad life, huh?”
I would be stunned that someone could be so purposelessly cruel to someone else if I had not seen what humans are capable of recently.
She lifted the piece of straw to my face, tickling my nose and lips with it at first, before shoving it into my mouth, forced open by the spreader. I gagged, threatening to retch. Jen mimicked the undignified sound I made before laughing. Her friends laughed too, although mostly uncomfortably. Scared, perhaps, that they would be next.
I couldn’t even blame them.
“You’re so gross. Are you hungry? Here, have some,” Jen said, before shoving the straw up my nose.
Tears ran down my face. The painful, burning sensation of straw up my nose only made it worse. Just when I was about to scream, I saw him. And I saw the way he looked at Jen. The three girls had not seen him yet. ‘Yet’ being the important word. He spoke, in an authoritative voice full of gravitas.
“Ladies,” he greeted, in a phrase that meant both ‘hi’ and ‘get out of my way’.
And they turned to see him standing there, in his white-suited glory, Carter Hill, CEO.
The three women turned to me with a mix of awe and fear. There was reverence in their expressions and that was the only reason why I chose not to give them a piece of my mind. The apparent leader of the group, a black-haired woman named Jen, turned to me with pleading, apologetic eyes.
“S-sir…”
“I would like a moment alone with her,” I said clearly.
No matter my phrasing, they knew better than to assume they had a choice. Without questioning me or delaying, they took their things and walked away, towards the other end of the long corridor full of stalls. Tiffany’s gaze dropped. I thought she might be looking at my white cow-hide boots, then I noticed her gaze lingered on the bucket, stool, sponge and similar supplies I brought with me.
“Right,” I said as I remembered the obvious.
I reached down to pull the spreader out of Tiffany’s mouth and the straw out of her nose as well. She inhaled in relief and flexed her jaw, looking for relief. She was gorgeous. Even in that undignified position with her face covered in tears, snot, and sweat, she was beautiful. Undeniably so. I knelt and used the soft handkerchief from my suit to wipe her face clean. She protested, turning to one side and then another, before finally allowing me to do it.
“I’m just trying to help you,” I told her.
“Help me? You put me here!”
“You put yourself here by sneaking onto my property. Trying to bring down my business,” I reminded her. “But now you are here. You are dirty and I’m here to help. You don’t want to get rashes, right? Infections?”
“I-I don’t. Why can’t you just let me go? I promise, I won’t tell anyone. I will keep your secret, just let me go,” she said, then added. “Let Wren and I go. You have other girls here. You can part with us, right?”
“I’m afraid not. It’s a waste of your time to ask,” I informed her, taking off my suit jacket and hanging it on the corner of the stall. I folded my sleeves and moved my stool to be at her side.
I dipped the sponge in the warm, soapy water, and began brushing her sides. She smelled like piss, sweat, musty old clothes, and fear. I could at least wash the first three off her. The last one she would need to lose on her own.
