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“They do, yes. I’ll get them hitched up to one of the carriages for your ride later and you can see. A beautiful pair when they’re in motion.”
We visit with the horses a bit longer, with Bridgette telling us a bit about where she got each one and their different personalities before she finally turns, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “All right, little ones. Who’s ready to see where your milk comes from?”
Chapter Twenty
Juliet
Milk? What does she mean, milk? Are there actual cows here on the farm, after all?
But that doesn’t make any sense. As far as I know, the only milk I’ve had so far has come from Auntie Cat.
Daddy gives my hand a tug, urging me forward, and I fall into step beside him, still rolling the question over in my mind. And I don’t have to wait long for the answer.
There’s another smaller barn just a few feet from the larger one. Bridgette holds the door open for us, and I follow Uncle Max and Victoria inside.
As soon as we step foot inside, Victoria gasps. “Cows!”
She’s right, though not in the way I expected. Much like the horses and other animals we just left behind, these cows are actually women. Very naked women, with tails in their asses and their full, heavy breasts swaying as they crawl around their pens.
In one corner, four or five of them lay in a pile, sleeping. Bridgette gestures to them, an indulgent smile on her face. “They just finished their milking rotation, so they’re a bit worn outfrom the process. We have another group starting in just a few minutes if you’d like to watch.”
“Oh, yes, please!” Practically vibrating with excitement, Victoria hops up and down in place. “I wanna watch!”
Daddy squeezes my hand, drawing my attention up to him. “Do you want to watch, Juju?”
I assumed I didn’t have a choice, but now that it’s been presented to me, I’m not exactly sure what I want. The idea of watching grown women getting milked is equal parts fascinating and horrifying.
“Um. I guess so.”
His smile softens, taking on a reassuring tilt as he gives my hand another squeeze. “Why don’t we go and if you don’t like it, we can find something else to do while we wait for Tori and Uncle Max.”
Knowing I have an out lessens my apprehension a bit, so I nod. “Okay, Daddy.”
It’s becoming easier and easier to refer to Jasper as “Daddy”, partially because it’s all he ever lets me call him, but also because of how he smiles when I say it without being prompted. Saying it lights up his face feels cheesy, but it’s the only way I can think to describe the way he beams at me whenever I call him Daddy.
I might be getting slightly addicted to that smile. And the pride in his voice whenever he praises me for something I did well. That, even more than avoiding his punishments, makes me want to be a good girl.
Daddy’sgood girl.
All of that doesn’t even touch on how easy it’s become to slip into that “Little girl” headspace. Especially when Victoria is around. She does it so easily and effortlessly, I can’t seem to help but follow even if there is a voice in the back of my head screaming at me not to get used to this life. To remember how hegot me here, and that I’m supposed to be doing everything in my power to escape.
But with every smile, every touch, every “good girl” I’m finding it harder and harder to remember why I want to leave.
Shoving those uncomfortable thoughts aside, I focus on what’s in front of me. Namely, the group of “cows” lining up to be milked. There are five stools lined up in a row, with five buckets beside them. And five men, ranch hands I guess they’d be called, each leading one of the cows to a stool.
The men sit, and we all watch, transfixed as they begin massaging the cows’ breasts. Teats. Whatever they’re called in these circumstances.
And then it happens. The cow closest to us lets out a long, loudmooas white milk squirts from her breasts into the pail beneath her.
“Good girl, Lexi,” her ranch hand praises. “Let’s see if you can give us a little more today. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”
“Lexi has had some trouble producing,” Bridgette whispers from behind us. “I was beginning to think I’d have to transition her to a pet sooner rather than later. But she surprised us yesterday and it looks like she’s going to be a good producer after all.”
“I thought you had milking machines here at the farm.” Uncle Max’s mouth turns down in a frown as he scans the operation in front of us. “Surely that’s more efficient.”
“It is,” Bridgette agrees with a nod. “We rotate the cows between being milked by hand and milked by the machine. This way is certainly slower, but the cows need that human touch on a regular basis. We tried it with just the machines for a bit, but it was pretty clear the cows were suffering. And everyone knows the best milk comes from happy cows.”
The man closest to us glances up, a wide grin on his face. “She’s still got a bit left in her if the girls would like a taste.”