My Cowgirl

Disclaimer: All individuals in this story are eighteen or older. The author does not condone sexual acts with non-consenting participants. The author does condone consenting adults doing basically whatever they want to each other in the privacy of their own home. Please enjoy. Constructive feedback is appreciated.

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I've written a few stories about keeping of women as livestock. These are, for the most part, tales formed based on my real life experiences, subtle and not so subtle exaggerations of things my wife and I have done, are doing, or intend to do in the future. Hucows, or as Katy prefers, cowgirls, are near and dear to us. It is a lifestyle choice, one that requires time, resources, dedication, patience, and fortitude.

I thought I'd take the opportunity to tell you a little bit about our lives, share a little of my experience and research on the subject. Whether you read this out of curiosity, titillation, or the desire to cultivate a similar relationship with your significant other or others, I hope you find it informative and enjoyable. A few of the details, names, locations and such have been changed in order to protect our privacy. As such, I will not be sending anyone any photographs, so please don't ask.

In general, our lives are similar to other dominant/submissive lifestyle. I am the top, she is the bottom. I set the rules and enforce them, she submits to my control. I don't use any physical control measures, and neither of us are really into punishment. The closest I get to that is the occasional spanking, either during sex or as a playful show of affection.

The rules I set consist of simple behavior limitation and modifications. They are enforced only by the respect for the game and her desire to please me. Examples of rules are as follows:

Cowgirls do not wear clothing, cowgirls take pride in their bodies.

Cowgirls do not walk upright, cowgirls walk on all fours.

Cowgirls do not speak, cowgirls moo.

For every rule, there is a positive paired with the negative, something Katy can do along with what she can't. I find she's happier and more receptive when it's structured this way, especially when I'm working on introducing something new.

I call my wife Katy, or Katy-Cow if I'm feeling cute or playful. Katy doesn't call me master or anything. Once we transition, she doesn't speak at all. This means that any word is a safe word, as the only sound Katy makes as a cow are a variety of moos. I can't stress the importance of safe words enough.

When Katy is a cow, her consent to all physical contact, including sex, is implicit. I don't ask Katy-Cow if she wants to make love, I just fuck her. She gets pretty aroused during her milkings, and since I milk her every hour on the hour when we're at home, that means I there are plenty of opportunities. Hopefully spelling this out here is completely unnecessary, but it is not okay to rape your wife/girlfriend. Cowgirls surrender a lot of control, but they still have ultimate authority over their own bodies.

Ok, sermon over. Now for the fun part. I figure I'll start with the question we get asked the most. How did we get started? Well, I was the one that initiated it. I had a vague interest in BDSM and Katy demonstrated submissive tendencies even when we were dating. I also had a fairly intense lactation fetish going, a fact that I kept to myself since I wasn't very proud of it. Katy ended up bringing it up in conversation, the result of my failure to purge my browser history. She said it was no big deal, and that lactophillia was one of the more common sexual paraphilia, and that while it was weird, she wasn't in any way put off by it.

I asked her if she would be ok with breastfeeding me. She agreed, but pointed out that she wasn't pregnant and that we had no immediate, or for that matter long term plans for children. I took the opportunity to impart some knowledge, uncovering a variety of techniques to induce lactation. She asked if it was something I wanted her to do and I told her that it was.

If only it were that simple. Pregnancy is by far an easier way of inducing lactation. Well, less complicated at least. Pumping seemed to be the easiest way to kick off prolactin/oxytocin production, since we're both busy people. I bought her a couple of nursing bras, along with a pumping bustier. By the way, you can't go wrong with the Medela Pump In Style Advanced. It's expensive, over two hundred dollars, but so worth it. You can find it on Amazon. I ended up getting a second one to integrate into Katy's milking stall. Bottom line, we dropped the better part of five hundred dollars before we even got started.

I ended up cheating a little, getting ahold of some Domperidone to help accelerate things. It works, but make sure to taper it off, or her milk production will flat line. It's a prescription anti-nausea medication. Inducing lactation is a side effect. You can induce without it, it just takes more patience than Katy and I had at the time.

I also supplemented Katy's diet with a variety of milk-boosting foods. She's particularly fond of the cookies. Oatmeal is great, carrots too. Garlic helps too, so hopefully you have a couple of good Italian dishes in your repertoire on hand. Just Google "galactagogue" and you'll find some winning recipes. Most importantly, make sure you cowgirl drinks water. People don't drink enough water as is, and when you're making milk, water is pretty damn important.

As for a pump the schedule, they key is quantity of sessions, not duration. Your cow will need to pump at least eight times a day, but I would shoot for twelve if your schedule allows. Pump for about seven minutes, then massage her breast for a few minutes, then pump for another seven minutes. You want to try to do this every three hours, meaning you will need to wake up at least twice a night to pump. Katy sleeps like the dead, so there were a couple of times where I ended up dry milking her while she was still asleep.

I guess the best thing you can do is be consistent. There are a ton of resources out there, like asklenore.info, breastfeedingwithoutbirthing.com, etc. This worked for us, but it may not work for you. Find something that works for you.

Once Katy's milk came in, it became a full time job on its own. She had to pump by herself at work (thank you again Medela), but whenever she came home I would either milk her by hand or nurse from her breast directly. I enjoyed her milk immensely, but Katy was reluctant to try it for herself at first. Eventually I convinced her to drink some she had bottled in the fridge and she seemed rather pleased with it. She still wasn't as voracious of a milk fanatic as I was, leaving plenty for me.

When we measured her milk production a couple of times on days that I didn't nurse, she averaged a quite a bit higher than the typical woman, about fifty ounces per day. While I was pleased and Katy proud, it did mean we had to be all the more diligent about her milking schedule. Missing a single session left her extremely uncomfortable. I ended up waking up on my own in the middle of the night, suckling her for a while, and falling back asleep.

That was the reason why I started stripping Katy's upper body when she got home. She let me do it a couple of times without mentioning it, but when I didn't let her put her bra and shirt back on afterwards, she asked if I preferred that she go topless when she was at home. I told her I did. She still waited for me to strip her when we got home from work rather than doing it herself. She seemed to enjoy it. It became something of a ritual for us and after a while it became second nature.

Our sex life improved dramatically as well. Our increased intimacy during nursing and milking sessions turned us both on, and we ended up fucking like when we were back in college. I started stripping her completely, making my wife into an outright nudist in short order.

This was when I started asserting more control over my wife's body. I dressed her in the morning and undressed her in the evening. She still picked out her own outfits and everything, I'm hopeless at that, but the physical act was all me. I wanted there to be a sort of a line, a demarcation between the Katy who worked as a division director and the Katy that loved nothing more than stripped naked and being milked like a cow.

I can't stress the importance of nudity enough. Cowgirls do not wear clothes. This really helps them get into the right mindset, to stop thinking about themselves driving cars, writing reports, and shopping for groceries. When Katy is naked, she thinks of herself as a cowgirl first and a woman second.

Like I mentioned earlier, I picked up a second Medela breast pump and integrated the cups into a wooden scaffold I made out of a couple of boards leftover from repairing the fence. My goal was to be able to fuck Katy while she pumped, which was currently only possible by holding the cups to her breast while she rode cowgirl. It worked, but it was pretty awkward.

She didn't like my contraption much at first, asking if I thought she was a cow. I told Katy she was a beautiful cow and kissed her before she had a chance to punch me. I took to calling her Katy-Cow after that, which grew on her after a while.

The main thing to keep in mind here if you decide to build a milking stall like mine is that the cups are high enough to get a good seal and the correct distance apart. You want them to be just a little higher than the minimum height to draw the udder into the cup. Some flesh should spill over the edge of the cup and they should leave indentations after being disconnected.

My first attempt at a milking stall needed a couple of adjustments, but once I refined it, it became our favorite new fuck toy. I could mount Katy from behind while the pump drained her breasts. She loved being fucked from behind, and she said that being milked and fucked at the same time was simply incredible.

Katy's breasts were always central to her sexual identity. She started out with pretty impressive breasts, 34E's, which grew into 34G's thanks to her milk. She was always pretty proud of her breasts, never hesitating to leverage them back when she worked low paying jobs in which deep cleavage could earn great tips. As such, they always got a lot of attention during sex. Unfortunately, her favorite sex position made manipulating her breasts difficult, so having the pumps pull at her tits while we fucked was a godsend.

I decided to push Katy a little bit. After stripping her when we got home, I would take her by the hand and gently guide her to the ground and tell her not to stand up until I helped her. Every now and then she would forget and stand up to get something, but I'd gently correct her and tell her I'd take care of it for her. I started having her walk on her hands and knees for short intervals, increasing the time until she spent the entire evening on all fours.

When Katy asked what I was doing to her, I realized that I wasn't quite sure. I knew what I wanted, sort of. I told her I wanted her to be my cow, my Katy-Cow, but I wasn't sure what that meant or what it would involve. Basically, I was playing it by ear.

I decided to try a little word play, renaming a couple of Katy's body parts to fit the cow motif. I called her breasts her udders, her nipples her teats, and her ass her rump. She went along with that, even slipping in a conversation with a girlfriend of hers, referring to her udders when discussing bathing suits.

Since I wasn't letting her stand up anymore, I decided she shouldn't sit on the furniture normally either. I still let her lay her head in my lap, but I wanted to continue reinforcing her submissive role. A disadvantage of this was that I could no longer nurse in her lap, but I would lie underneath while she stood on the floor, latching on to her teat while her udders were suspended above me.

We continued doing the usual couple things, watching television, reading, eating, etc. Katy was pissed the first time I put her food in bowls on the floor, but I stood my ground, telling her that this is how cowgirls ate. It took a while for her to get used to eating off the ground, especially when I told her she couldn't use her hands, but she stopped resenting it once she got used to it.

Every now and then I would ask Katy if she was okay with what I was doing her, just a check to make sure she knew I still loved and respected her, and that I wanted her to be happy. She said she liked being a cowgirl in general, and that even though she questioned some of the things I did, she trusted my judgment.

I put a mattress on the back porch so she can sleep outside if she likes, and she usually does when it's warm enough. In addition, I keep a thin mattress on the floor of our bedroom, which conveniently slides under the bed when it's not in use. I never really saw the point in sharing a bed anyway. I toss and turn quite a bit, and it was a relief for both of use when I told Katy she would be sleeping on the floor.

Another challenge that came with walking on all fours all the time was using the toilet. She would just break character in order to do her business and I wouldn't correct her. One day she told me she needed to pee. I told her I didn't mind her using the toilet, but she refused, saying the cowgirls aren't supposed to stand up like people. She suggested going in the yard, which threw me for a loop. Clearly I had underestimated Katy-Cow's commitment.

It wasn't unusual for Katy to go outside naked. We lived on enough land with enough standoff from our neighbors that privacy wasn't an issue. I opened the door, watching to see if she would actually go through with it. It took her a while to get started, but eventually I saw the steam of liquid shoot out of her cunt. By the way, if your cowgirl does decide to urinate on your lawn, make sure she isn't doing it on the same spot over and over again. It will kill your grass.

Anyway, this set off my competitive streak, and after watching my wife piss on the back lawn, I decided to test how bold she really was. I did a little research on composting, then went to Lowes and got some lumber, hinges, and a bucket. One thing to keep in mind when composting. Sawdust is your friend. Hay is your friend. Figure out the right ratios and you'll have a hell of a fertilizer.

I put together a sturdy makeshift toilet, then went into the back yard and dug a hole of the appropriate size. I buried the apparatus at ground level, then came inside to inform Katy-Cow that whenever she needed to defecate, she was to use the hole in the yard. The look on her face was priceless.

Her period was another adventure. That she had to talk me through. It ended up being pretty simple. I just insert her tampon, tuck the string in her pussy, then change it was needed. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but neither was composting my wife's dung. What can I say? I am a very devoted husband.

I started bathing her too. I purchased a large steel water trough and put it out in the back yard. The cold water made her yelp at first, but I insisted that she would get used to it. I took a sponge and loofa to her body, along with the assortment of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. This included cleaning her asshole, since she no longer used toilet paper. Fortunately, the high fiber content in her diet kept her stool solid and compact, so there was rarely any trace fecal matter.

Bathing is easy. Shaving is a whole other endeavor. Fortunately I was able to find a decent Emjoi epilator at Bed, Bath, & Beyond. It takes a long time and it's basically a bunch of tweezers plucking her hair out on rapid fire, but it gets the job done. It took a while and looked pretty painful to me, but she didn't seem to mind. Her legs and armpits stayed hair free for a few weeks. Katy's bush was another matter. She kind of preferred going au natural there. I'd shave the area around her labia just enough so I could tongue fuck her without getting pubes in my teeth.

Katy's milk output stabilized at around ninety ounces per day. This varied pretty widely, dipping below eighty on some days and over a hundred on others. For those of you that aren't so mathematically inclined, that's nearly a gallon, a lot more than most women can manage. Of course, most women don't plan their entire daily lives around their milk.

This was a small boon for us. As much as I loved her milk, I couldn't drink that much, so I started selling it online. If you choose to sell, onlythebreast.com is a good third party vendor. If you don't mind a random guy drinking your cowgirl's milk, there's always craigslist.

I have to say, this stuff is liquid gold. I started feeling guilty about drinking it, considering how much money we made selling it. I could get $2.50 cents an ounce easily, meaning I could get a thousand dollars for a four hundred ounce shipment. Demand tended to vary, and our refrigerator was perpetually half full of milk, but that was still an impressive profit for our little sexual kink.

Katy started becoming less talkative once she became a cow for the day. She spend so much time being milked or fucked, or milked and fucked that she didn't have too much to say anyway. We checked in when she first got home, talked about our day, made plans, conflicted schedules, etc. But after that, she didn't make much noise other than contented sighs and erotic moans.

I decided to take another step, informing my wife that she was no longer allowed to speak as a cowgirl, only moo. She agreed with this immediately, saying that she didn't like talking because it took her out of the animal mindset. I made sure she knew it was ok to break this rule if she really needed to, but from then on, she stopped talking altogether once I removed her clothing.

She invented her own sort of language of moos, using the length, tone, timbre, and accompanying facial expressions to convey her intent. We'd been married long enough that a lot our communication was nonverbal anyway, so this was a pretty easy transition.

Since she didn't talk, she wasn't in a position to object to me fucking her whenever I felt like it. As I mentioned earlier, her consent is implied by virtue of her cowgirl status. Part of our daily pre-cow check in was to make sure she was feeling healthy and happy. If she wasn't, I took care of her needs and kept my dick in my pants.

Other than that, any time I felt my cock twitch, whether she was on her milker, walking around the yard, reading a book, or whatever, I'd just walk up to her, drop my pants, slip a finger in her cunt to see if she was wet enough, and then push my dick into her. She seemed to like these surprise encounters, referring to them fondly as surprise sex she didn't know she wanted.

I decided it would be a good idea to mark her in some way, give her a permanent reminder of this phase of our lives. We'd been going at it for a couple of years at this point, and though I'm sure she'll keep being my Katy-Cow for years to come, eventually we'll have to end this phase of our relationship.

I picked out a tattoo for her, another thing she swore she'd never do, but she seemed to agree about having a permanent keepsake. The pattern consisted of a series of bar codes, with the KATY-COW written underneath. I briefly considered branding, but decided against it, as the pain and recovery process was too extreme to justify the aesthetic.

I took Katy to a local artist, showing him the design and the section of her rump I wanted it on. One thing about tattoo artists, nothing phases them. Any crazy design you come up with, they've seem something even more fucked up. Since the pattern was simple, relatively small, and all black, it only took one session. Katy took off work for the occasion, allowing me to care for her smarting rump when we got home.