She: Two Days

She had displeased her master. More than that, she had injured his pride. He ordered her to suck, and instead she bit. Not hard. She had just been in a bad mood. She'd assumed her usual position on the milk rack, and he'd presented his member for pleasure as he usually did. But she hadn't been feeling it. Maybe it was that her master had expanded her butt plug again. Maybe he'd been overly rough with her precious udders. Maybe her hormones near her period had made her cranky. She didn't know. She should have used the safe word. He certainly did after she bit him. Her husband claimed to forgive her, citing no damage, and showing genuine concern about her feelings. Still, it took her a few days to get back into the mood, especially knowing her punishment was coming. Boy was she right.

The drive was long and she hadn't been allowed to wear clothes. No one noticed, save for a lone boy in the back of his family's car. She smiled to herself, pleased he'd have something to look forward to in his life. An hour later they arrived at the quiet old barn, on lone from her Master's uncle. He pulled her from the seat roughly, dragging her along behind. A chill in the air and frost on her breath made her again wish she'd been allowed to wear clothes as the temperature rapidly fell. Even her leather collar felt cold and ridged, her cow bell jangling as she was dragged a short trek through the woods.

Inside wasn't much better, but at least she was out of the wind. A former dairy barn, it had seen better days. Inside the cleanest stall had been laid fresh hay, and a small table with some food and water. A course blanket lay draped on the side, along with a crank heater for warmth. Wide eyed, she took it all in. Apparently some owls had decided to roost in the rafters. She hoped they'd already taken care of the mice.

Eyes turning back to her master, she found him grinning at her. A look she knew well. Approaching with her best saunter, she watched him watch her, his eyes on the shift of her thighs, the sway of her laden breasts. She kissed him, unasked and uninvited.

A sharp jangle of metal broke her moment of adoration. Glancing down, a heavy chain hooked through her collar, falling between her globes. She traced the length back to a beam, bolted in tight. A slight jerk confirmed her suspicions; locked. Apparently he wanted her extra subservient today. Fine. She could play.

Mooing softly, she moved her hands to her breasts, kneading them softly and drawing forth the life giving spring within. A tingle deep down meant she was ready, and a fire in her nipples matched that of her loins. She was a well trained milk cow and a good girl. She knew what her Master wanted. Or at least she thought she did.

Calloused working hands lay upon her own soft, manicured fingers. He pulled gently, moving her hands away just as the first white drops leaped forth. Grunting, she moved her hands back to her swollen teats. She hated not being milked, he knew that.

As he roughly pushed her hands away once more, she understood. Yes, he did know that. That was why he was doing this. He couldn't really be planning to lock her in this barn without milking her, was he?

Reaching down, he scooped a handful of trembling flesh into each hand, gently kissing each beautiful mound until she nearly orgasmed right there. Working his way up, he kissed along her collar bone, ran his tongue along her actual collar, and stopped at the perfect lips of his loving wife. She shook openly now, fully comprehending. Silently he pleaded for her to say the safe word. She had but to utter it and he would wish her away to their marriage bed. Smiling, she shook her head. If this was to be her punishment for displeasing her master, then so be it. Nodding, he headed for the door, pausing only to command two words that left her sobbing with fear before he locked the door and left her along in the dark.

Two days.

She had to stay alone in this musky barn for two whole days? With minimal food and water, and the implicit order that she was not to milk herself? Surely she would die! Sinking to the floor while she pulled the blanket to herself, she lightly brushed her erect nipples, careful not to spill any milk. She was a trained milk cow. In two days her own body would torture her, feeling like her breasts had doubled in size. The dry air would chap her sensitive nips; her productive melons drawing close to abscess from the wonderful milk inside. Sleeping would be impossible from the double ache on her chest, and the cold would drive fire to her bones.

Already she could feel the tingle, and usually she would jingle her bell for her Master to relieve her. Yet there was scarce a soul around for 70 odd miles. She would sit, trapped and utterly alone as her best assets ballooned against her will. All because she had displeased her master.

Next time she'd bite harder.