Betty awakened even without her alarm clock going off. Her body had learned a diurnal rhythm of her habits. She'd slept in the nude, as was usual on warm nights, so she only had to pull off her covers to stand up and head to the bathroom. Still groggy, she peed, leaning forward to ease the pressure of her breasts which were aching slightly, heavy on her chest. Wiping and flushing, she returned to her bedroom, opened a dresser drawer, and pulled out some skimpy, pale blue panties. Stepping into them, she went to her closet, scanning her dresses on their hangers. Selecting one that she felt went with the panties, she slipped it on. Since the day was predicted to be clear and warm, she'd chosen a simple summer shift dress. This dress was held up in place by simply tying its top 2 cloth strips together at the nape of her neck.
Like an undeniable craving, her need to begin driving was building, so she got a bottle of water and left her house. Out in the darkness, she went to her car, and began driving in the gentle predawn sky illumination. The route was familiar, so she began sipping from the water bottle to hydrate herself. She had the windows open enough to let in fresh air, with the scent of green, growing things. The road was virtually deserted at that time of day, giving her a quiet time to reflect. For only the umpteenth time, she asked herself, "How can I both loathe what's compelling me, and yet also find pleasure in it?" As usual, there was no clear answer, but the butterflies were stirring in her tummy. That didn't stop the question from echoing in her mind as she drove along the road, her car seeming to chase the illumination of her high beam headlamps, and never catching them.
Approaching the farm, she turned in and drove down its long driveway, listening to the gravel crunching under her car tires. The air entering the car altered subtly, since this was a working farm. Her normal spot near the barn wasn't occupied, so she was able to park there. That was one advantage of getting there very early -- it also freed the rest of her day to other pursuits. Taking a final drink of water, she stepped out of the car, and headed inside the barn, to be greeted by the pleasant familiar scent of hay and straw.
The farmer heard the sound of a car and peered out of his kitchen window. He smiled as he recognized Betty in the car. Glancing at the clock, he noted the time. "Hmmm, she's a little early -- she either couldn't sleep well, or she's very anxious." He watched her stepping out of the car, dressed simply, as she was expected to do. The cool morning air, which was still slightly misty, must've been a sharp contrast to the warmth she'd felt inside her car. Seeing her shiver a little as the totality of her body felt the touch of the cold air, he grinned. Instead of rushing out to attend to her, he settled back to finish his coffee -- confident that she knew what to do. "Besides, she'll get warm again inside the barn," he murmured.
Indeed, the barn's protective warmth enveloped Betty as soon as she closed the door behind herself. She crossed the barn floor and faced the sturdy device. She couldn't help but study it with a mixture of revulsion and fascination. "Such a simple construction," she stated. It consisted of two vertical poles, spaced maybe 5 or 6 feet apart, with two horizontal poles bolted between them. One pole was approximately at the height of her waist, the other at the height of her shoulders if she stooped forward a little.
Almost in a trance or a daydream, she walked around behind the apparatus and then stepped forward until her lower body pressed against the bottom bar. Turning her torso toward the left, she reached up with both arms to the handcuff, fixed to the area where the upper pole joined the left upright. Using her right hand, she closed the handcuff around her left wrist, listening and feeling it's familiar ratcheting sounds and vibrations as it secured her wrist there. Now, lacking a key, she was caught until someone released her. She braced her free hand on the bottom bar, and waited, soon shifting from one foot to the other and back, a little impatiently. As soon as she'd closed the cuff, her heart had accelerated. She had to take deeper breaths to keep up with the faster pumping of her blood, which made her breasts rise and fall very fetchingly, but unfortunately there was no one there to appreciate it.
Five or ten minutes passed before the farmer sauntered in and stepped behind her. Soundlessly, he took hold of her free hand and locked it to the other handcuff on the upper right, restraining her arms fully. Not bothering to make conversation, or even eye contact, he walked in front of her. The particular placement of the two handcuffs, when both were secured, made Betty lean her upper torso forward under the upper bar. For stability, she gripped that upper bar with each hand, and rested the cool metal across the tops of her shoulder blades, which were bare since the shift dress was backless. He stooped down and grasped first one of her ankles, and then the other, securing them with leather cuffs to the bases of the vertical bars. This kept her thighs and lower legs well apart, but comfortably. Having all of her limbs immobilized, Betty mentally sank slowly into a more submissive state.
Her pose exposed the nape of her neck in front of the upper bar, so the farmer easily undid the tied top of her dress and yanked down the front of it, leaving the front of her upper body bare to below her navel. Betty knew he was going to do that, but it still sent a rush of humiliation at having her breasts so casually exposed to this virtual stranger. He'd never tried to get to know her, or share anything personal about his life. He treated her like an obedient animal. One that could be trusted to show up for a daily milking. Taking a bucket and a sponge, he washed her udders and teats impersonally but thoroughly, and wiped them dry with a rough towel.
Next, he scooped up a small amount of lubricant and began smearing it on the warm flesh of her breasts -- her udders, as he thought of them. She skittered in place at this touch of his hands to her exposed flesh. "Hooo, Bessie... steady now girl," he crooned. "We need to make the milkers get a firm seal on your teats, you know, my girl. We've done this many times." He knew her name was Betty, but he felt that Bessie was a better name for a milk cow, so that is what he called her. Besides, each time he did, she flushed with humiliation, hearing that name, and that fact that he used the word 'teats' rather than nipples. At this point, every time he added this lubricant, he seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time applying it to her areolae and nipples, rubbing it in, over and over. The stimulation built and built, until she could not suppress a moan, and her pussy dampened. She became aware of a new scent -- a slightly musky one -- blending with those of the hay and straw.
Now the farmer turned on his special milker which only had two tubes. The motor made that familiar 'suck... release' sound that made her wetness increase, just from hearing it. He tugged one of her teats downward, making her dangling breast flesh a little more cone shaped and then brought the mouth of the milker tube toward it. She could feel the air moving from its suction as it neared her breast. Like a hungry calf, it latched on to her nipple and areola and began a powerful sucking action. This was painful at first, since her milk hadn't started to let down yet. It was as if the hungry mouth of the milker tube was angry that she was not feeding it, so it sucked even harder, in a demanding fashion. Her body involuntarily pulled at the unyielding restraints as she felt that sensation.
Betty was so focused on that painful sucking that she barely noticed the farmer tugging at her other teat. But when the second milker latched on and started its powerful sucking, she groaned loudly and once again squirmed in the restraints from the added pain. "Why, oh why do I do this?" she thought. "Once again, I can't move my wrists and my ankles to escape this device. This guy calls me Bessie, and acts like he owns my tits. And the incessant sucking actions caused by that machine hurt!" Another loud, long groan erupted from her lips. And the farmer smiled at her discomfort.
After a minute or two, blissfully, Betty's milk started to flow. This felt so good compared to the pre-flow suction that she moaned with pleasure. Milk started being whisked away into the machine's receiving bottle. The farmer grinned at both the appearance of the milk and the woman's sound. Of course, he thought of her more like a milk cow than a human, but that didn't prevent him from moving behind her after watching the flow for a minute or two. Once he was back there, he flipped the hem of her dress up onto her sloped back, exposing her panties.
Betty felt the movement of her dress and blushed and shivered in anticipation. The milkers were still sucking at her nipples as she felt the farmer seize the waistband of her panties, and roughly yank them down as far as her spread knees would allow them to go. Now her butt was completely bare, and the position of her body exposed both her butt hole and her wet pussy. Knowing that he could see her intimate area like this, she flushed in mortification, but the mortification triggered something inside her that created a submissive excitement. The excitement transformed into arousal, as the farmer ran his rough hands possessively over her wet labia and the furrow between them. More of her scent was released, becoming almost as pervasive as the hay/straw scents.
Barely audible over the noises of the milking machine, she was dimly aware of a rustle of clothing. The farmer was pulling his pants down enough to free his cock and balls. His erection sprang up and slapped against the back of one of her thighs. She felt one of his hands reaching under her and spreading open her labia. The air of the barn washed over the opening of her wet, churning tunnel. But for only a moment. The bulbous head of the farmer's cock sealed that opening as it made contact with her hot, smooth flesh. Moments later, Betty made an inarticulate sound and rose onto her toes as his fat prick shoved its way inward, its penetration stretching and filling her. When his balls touched her body, he pulled back and started pumping in and out.
Grabbing her hips to steady her, his thrusts became a little more controlled. He gave no heed to her pleasure -- this was for his enjoyment. His first fuck of the morning was always the best one, helping him utilize his morning stiffie to drain some semen from his heavy balls. He had to admit, though, that Bessie was one of his best cows when it came to fucking. Her cunt muscles usually had a rippling rhythm that seemed to suck at his cock. So as he was milking her, she in turn was subconsciously milking him. And if her rippling slowed down too much, he only had to give her butt cheek a stinging swat to speed her back up.
