He doesn't take me to the stables though. Not this time. He shoves me into a pair of the enormous rain boots and leads me around the back of the house. This place keeps on surprising me. Celene. Pussy bans. Women who volunteer for this shit. My own weird reactions. Mikey. The whole thing just has me scrambling to make any sense of it. And here, I get surprised again. Because he leads me to a pool. It's lit from below the surface, turquoise and steaming into the dark day. Flowers and green leaves drape from pots to trail on the flag stones. A willow tree sits in one corner. There aren't any glory holes, or stocks, or torture devices.
Overhead the sky is heavy and swollen and spitting out it's frustration in what isn't quite rain. It's like heavy mist.
My nipples, already hard from earlier, tighten even farther. Mikey takes my hand, stands beside me, looks at them. "You ever had them pumped?"
My mouth drops. Surprised again. "Like for milk?"
A wry grin twists his face. "It's a thing. A sex thing."
I focus on that. How I feel about that. I shake my shoulders a little and my tits sway back and forth which for some reason makes Mikey laugh.
"A week ago, Tara, my little cunt, if someone asked you if you'd ever had your tits pumped, what would you have done?"
I draw in breath, look down at my mist-dampened tits, the big hard nipples. "Been all shocked and appalled."
"And now?"
"Now...I'm just trying to decide if the idea turns me on."
"And?"
I lift my shoulders. "I don't know. It's not repulsive, but I don't know how it works."
He takes me by the hand, moves me closer to the pool. I can feel the heat rising off it, the tendrils of steam swirling upward to mix with the drizzly mist raining down. He shifts to stand behind me, smooths his hands up my belly, over my ribs, up to cup my tits, pinching my nipples between his middle and forefingers. "There's a wide range, like with any kink. From the simple to the extreme. Everything from sucking milk right from the source, to turning you in a human cow, mindless, built for nothing but fucking and producing milk, strapping you into a machine and leaving you at the mercy of any man who wants you."
"A cow? You want to turn me into a cow?"
He pinches my nipples, hard, and I find myself gasping. Everything tightens down below. My ass is sore and sloppy around the plug. Cum bubbles out. My pussy, sucks hungrily at the dildo inside it. I want cock. Nothing is as good as a warm, hard, human cock.
"I do not. But it's not about me. Does the idea turn you on?"
He pulls at my tits again, grabbing lower down, touching a place on my tits, pulling from deeper inside me, a place I don't think anyone's ever gotten to before. "The idea that I'd exist for no reason other than for you to fuck me, yes, that turns me on."
"And what if it's any man. Not me specifically, just that you exist for men to use, fuck you like a toy, treat like a whore." He keeps up his rhythmic tugging, kneading, pinching. His cock bumps against the seem of my ass, nudges against the plug.
I'm breathing harder now. "It turns me on in theory. But it also scares me. I wouldn't want that. To actually exist that way."
"So that's the line then? Between the fantasy and the reality?"
I swallow, try to think around the physical sensation. My tightening pussy. My throbbing clit. The cord he's built between my tits and everything else. "I think I feel safe when I know you're guiding me. But without that...No, I don't think I'd like it."
"So if I told you I wanted to milk you, what would you say?"
"I'd ask how. I don't want to take hormones if that's how it's done. And I definitely don't want to have a baby. So no, I don't really want to be milked."
He presses a kiss to my shoulder. "Good. See, you're becoming quite self-aware in your kinks. And...I didn't realize it, but your tits are very sensitive."
His hands fall away, and for a moment, I can picture it. Me on my knees, my tits hooked up to pumps, my ass and pussy out, waiting, exposed for anyone and everyone who might want it, my mouth level with a man's groin, just waiting, pumping out milk and waiting for men to pump me full of cum. Mikey watching all of it, coordinating, pushing me just a little farther. The idea arouses me. I might even want to play with the idea. But the logistics of it are too confusing.
He unbuttons his flannel and shucks it off his shoulders, then toes his way out of his boots, drops his jeans down and kicks them off. He doesn't even look back at me, just dives into the pool, leaving me, standing on the edge, wearing shoes, unmonitored for the first time. If I took off, would he catch me? I'm fast, though probably not too fast in these shoes. I could grab his clothes. Run into the woods, disappear into the trees. Wait them out, wearing his jeans and a shirt.
And never taste mango-cum again. Never see Mikey's eyes crinkle up at the corners as he looks down at me like I'm some sort of angel sent just to service his dick.
He surfaces, runs his thumb and forefinger over the end of his nose, tosses his head like a dog, shaking off the water, and doesn't look at me. He keeps his back to me. "You can go. If you want. The keys to my truck are in the ass pocket of my jeans."
All the air leaves my lungs in a great big whoosh.
"My wallet's there too. There's about five hundred bucks in there. You could go. Get yourself away. Beat Jay back to your house, get your stuff, move away, file for divorce. Be free."
I think about that for a long time. Picture my closet, full of row after row of boring blouses and even more boring slacks. A house full of shit I don't want or need. There's nothing there I want. That life wasn't free.