Chapter 1: The Inspection
The heavy barn door slid open with a rusty shriek, cutting through the low, steady hum of the milking machines. Jebediah Blackwood filled the doorway, his burly frame backlit by the fading afternoon sun. He carried the smell of old leather and dry earth with him.
Inside, the air was warm and thick, carrying the sweet, grassy scent of hay and the richer, muskier odor of milk and sweat. Five women, naked and gleaming under the fluorescent lights strung from the beams, immediately dropped from their stools onto the worn wooden planks. Their palms and knees met the ground in unison, a practiced movement. A chorus of low, respectful “moos” echoed in the space, mingling with the clank of a bucket and the drip of a tap.
“Up on the line,” Jeb said, his voice a gravelly rumble. He didn’t raise it. He never had to.
They moved, rising to their feet and forming a single file line against the far wall, beneath a faded poster of a Holstein. Their eyes were downcast. Jeb walked to a small tripod in the corner and flicked the camera on, a red light winking to life. This was business.
“Bethany. Front and center.”
Cow 3 stepped forward, her movements assured, almost proud. Her body was a testament to her years of service; her breasts were enormous and heavy, their blue-veined weight pulling them toward her rounded belly. Her hips were wide, her ass full and dimpled, the branded ‘3’ on the left cheek a dark, permanent mark against her skin. She stopped before him and, without prompt, bent at the waist, placing her hands on her knees, presenting herself. The pink-brown furl of her anus and the dangling, flushed lips of her pussy were exposed to the camera’s unblinking eye.
“Good,” Jeb murmured. He stepped closer. “Spread.”
Bethany’s hands slid down her inner thighs, pulling herself open wider. A soft, wet sound was audible as her inner folds parted. Jeb brought his right hand up, two fingers extended. He held them before her face. “Clean them.”
She leaned forward, her tongue swirling out to lick his fingers with slow, thorough strokes. She took them deep into her mouth, sucking diligently, her eyes closed in concentration. When he pulled them free, they shone with her saliva.
“Now, the other hole.”
Bethany nodded, a faint smile on her lips. She bent further, offering her rear again. Jeb’s wet fingers probed the tight, wrinkled pucker of her asshole. He pushed one in, to the knuckle, feeling the inner heat and the immediate, eager clench of her muscle. She let out a shuddering sigh, pushing back against his hand. He worked the finger in and out a few times before withdrawing. “Acceptable. Back in line.”
She moved, a sway in her step, her huge tits jiggling with each movement.
“Greta.”
Cow 9 flinched at her name. Her fair skin was already flushed a delicate pink from her neck to her cheeks. Her blond bob was stuck to her temples with sweat. Her body was softer, plumper than Bethany’s, with a lovely roundness to her belly and hips. She presented herself in the same way, bending over, her hands gripping her knees until her knuckles were white.
“Wider,” Jeb commanded.
A whimper escaped her as she forced her legs apart. Her pussy was a neat, pink slit, already glistening. Her asshole, a perfect little rosebud, twitched nervously.
Jeb repeated the ritual. The same two fingers to her mouth. Greta’s tongue was timid, kittenish, but she cleaned them thoroughly, her blush deepening when he grunted approval. Then, the intrusion at her back. His finger pushed into her ass, and she cried out, a sharp, sweet sound. Her whole body tensed, then melted, a wet patch growing on the floor beneath her as her cunt dripped. “You like that, don’t you?” Jeb said, not really asking. He twisted his finger. “My little writer. Thinking up stories now?”
“Y-yes, sir,” she gasped.
He smacked her ass, leaving a bright red handprint on the white flesh. “Line.”
Uma was next. Cow 17 sauntered forward, her green eyes locked on Jeb with a knowing, sultry look. The silver ring in her nostril glinted. Her dark pubic bush was a wild, thriving triangle. She bent over with a performer’s grace, arching her back deeply to make her overweight frame look like an invitation.
“You know the drill, slut,” Jeb said.
“Yes, farmer,” she purred, her British accent thickening the words.
She took his fingers into her mouth like she was savoring a treat, her tongue swirling, her lips forming a perfect ‘O’. When he presented them to her rear, she wiggled her hips. “My favorite part, sir.”
Jeb didn’t bother with one finger. He pushed two into her asshole, and it yielded with obscene ease, sucking them in. Uma groaned, long and low, pushing back to take him deeper. “Fuck, yes. It’s so empty. It needs filling.”
“Later,” Jeb said, working his fingers in a scissoring motion. She was loose, hungry for it. He pulled them out, slick with her internal heat. “You’re a damn sewer, Uma.”
“Thank you, farmer,” she breathed, her face radiant as she returned to the line.
Ruby, Cow 19, was a vision of ripe, freckled abundance. Her red curls were a vibrant shock against the drab wood. Her breasts were monumental, their pale skin mapped with delicate blue veins, the areolas wide and a startling, pretty pink. She bent, her bald pussy already visibly wet, lips puffy and parted.
Jeb’s fingers in her mouth. Her suck was strong, practiced. A porn star’s mouth. When he moved to her backside, he took a moment to twist one of her nipples, hard. Ruby gasped, her cunt gushing a fresh trickle of arousal onto the straw. “Sir…”
“Quiet.” He probed her asshole, finding it tighter than Uma’s but willing. He fucked her with his fingers, his other hand still pinching and rolling her nipple. Her milk let down in a sudden, thin spray, mixing with the sweat on her belly. “Filthy,” he muttered, almost to himself. He withdrew. “Line.”
Last was Norah, Cow 24. The newest. Her dirty blonde hair hung like a curtain, brushing the tops of her thighs. Her breasts were astonishingly pendulous for her age, hanging low and full, their nipples pointing at the ground. She trembled as she assumed the position.
Jeb’s saliva-slick fingers entered her mouth. She sucked weakly, her eyes squeezed shut. When he moved behind her, she was trembling. “Please,” she whispered.
“Please what?” Jeb’s voice was flat.
“My… my bladder is very full, sir.”
He paused. A slow smile spread under his beard. He leaned close, his voice a low growl for her and the camera. “You’ll hold it until I say. Now, take it.”
He pushed a single finger into her tight ass. She was clenched, nervous. He worked it in, feeling the tremor that ran through her whole body. The pressure inside her was palpable. As he finger-fucked her reluctant hole, a small, desperate stream of piss escaped her, pattering onto the wood between her feet. She let out a choked sob of humiliation and relief.
“Disgusting,” Jeb said, but there was a thread of approval in it. He pulled his finger out. “Clean up your mess later. Line.”
They stood back in a row, five naked women, holes used and glistening, bodies marked by his hands. Jeb faced the camera, a solid, imposing figure.
“Inspection complete. Stock is healthy, productive, and obedient.” He turned his head to look at them, his gaze impersonal. “Ruby. You’re with me in the studio after evening milking. The rest of you, feed and rest. Tomorrow, we muck the pens. On your knees. Dismissed.”
The women dropped back to all fours, mooing their acknowledgment. Jeb turned off the camera. The red light died. As he walked back toward the house, he heard the sounds of them rising, the soft chatter beginning, Ruby’s confident laugh. He thought of the scene he’d shoot with her later, the things he’d make her do. It was just work. Good, honest work.
In the barn, Norah was already on her hands and knees, licking at the puddle she’d made, her long hair dragging through it. No one watched her. It was just part of the day. Bethany squeezed her own milk into a pail in a steady, rhythmic stream, her eyes distant and content. Greta traced the welts on her ass, her breath still coming in little hitches. Uma just leaned against the stall, two fingers buried knuckle-deep in her own ass, waiting for what came next.