Creamy Goodness 2

Milking on The Farm By Elliot Silvestri One Luanne thought she was done with The Farm. Back in college it had been a fun and exciting way to make a lot of money really fast. She had paraded around the house in lingerie, or a French maid uniform, and sometimes even topless, working as a general servant. It was a weird world helping people who paid too much money to experience little s****l thrills and fantasies. More than once she had been asked to watch as a man m*********d in front of her. It seemed to thrill the older men that they could jerk off in front of a young woman without repercussions. After college she had trouble landing that dream job, so she supplemented her income by working at The Farm, but this time in more intimate roles. It was s*x work, Luanne didn’t shy away from acknowledging that, but it was more fun than actual work. Actual participation in helping people live out their kinky fantasies was more enjoyable than the dull office work she had landed. It paid better as well. Tying people up, humiliating them (always men), whipping and caning them, leading them around by leashes—it was all just a variation of role playing she had done as a little girl. Eventually she was hired doing what she had spent four years in college learning. Working for the state wasn’t exciting, but it paid well, was steady, and she didn’t have to hide from family and friends what she did for all her money. It was easier in a way. A happy relationship shortly followed, along with marriage, a baby, and a house. Luanne had one of those perfect lives that was envied by so many people. It didn’t last. Everything fell apart so quickly. From diagnosis to funeral Jeff had only survived a little more than three months. It retrospect she realized that he had been hiding symptoms and problems for almost the entire length of their relationship. Their baby was under a year old. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but it was. The loss of her husband didn’t destroy her life, but it came close. There was money enough for her daughter and to pay the mortgage and keep food on the table, but she realized almost half a year after Jeff’s death that she was miserably unhappy. She had the material things that were necessary to keep her alive but her love of life was gone. Kim’s email came at the usual time. She sent them out every six months so as to keep an active list of occasional Farm employees. Luanne must have missed the one immediately after Jeff’s death, but this one she read. Whether she read it out of boredom or curiosity or simply because she was going through the motions of living life, she couldn’t say. The email read: Everyone, This is a special request email to all former and current and occasional employees. If this doesn’t apply to you, please disregard. I’ve gotten a special request for particular kink fulfillment that only a few select women will be able to work (sorry, gentlemen). Specifically, I’m looking for women who are actively lactating. You need to be able to produce at least four ounces of breast milk within thirty minutes. I need five women in one month’s time. Pay for this is the highest tier. As usual a finder’s fee will be paid to anyone who directs a new employee for this one-time job (which might not be one-time; I’m hoping for a new steady client.) Email me back ASAP if you are interested. Pass along any names as well. Thank you. Kim Luanne’s breasts were heavy with milk because Joleen was still actively nursing, but her daughter was slowly yet steadily weaning herself. As she read the email, Luanne could feel her milk letting down, even though Joleen had nursed just a few hours earlier. As a person who was always in tune with her body, Luanne knew what the reaction she had was; denying it was a waste of time. Instead, she put fingers to keyboard and replied to Kim’s message. The car, it seemed, knew the way up to The Farm that stood in the middle of nowhere between rolling hills and working farm’s corn and hayfields. The roads were exactly the same even if some of the signs were different. It had been years since Luanne had driven to The Farm, and there were some minor changes. “Just follow the signs for the new winery if you get lost,” Kim had told her with a laugh. “We’re just two miles down the road from them.” “When did that start?” “They’ve been doing it for three years now, I think. As a commercial enterprise, at least. Apparently the family has been making wine for almost twenty years. We buy some of their stock, just to be neighborly. It’s decent stuff.” “Do they know what The Farm…” Luanne hesitated to ask. The Farm fell somewhere in the semi-legal area of country bed-and-breakfast and completely bald-faced s*x club. It was a semi-open secret among those who were on the edges of The Farm’s financial status. “No,” Kim said firmly. “As always, discretion is our pride.” Luanne drove past the winery, found The Farm’s driveway marked only by a pair of stone pillars, zipped down the private lane and parked in the circular driveway. The Farm was much as she had remembered it. The large farmhouse stood apart from the barn. Out behind the house was an elaborate garden and expansive lawn. Beyond the lawn were actual crops growing in fields. These were rented out to an actual farmer who maintained them, Luanne knew. The Farm itself grew nothing except erections and orgasms. She let herself into the house and headed to the back where Kim kept her office. The owner and manager of the private club greeted her old employee with a smile, a light embrace, and a friendly kiss on the cheek. Kim looked a little older, but was perfectly put together as always. Her business suit would have looked more in place in one of the many office buildings down in the city, but Kim had a certain level of professionalism to maintain. Anyone with sharp eyes could see exactly what type of business Kim was running. A riding crop was laid on the table behind Kim’s desk, a few photographs that bordered on pornographic decorated the walls, and Kim’s suit, well-tailored as it was, showed a bit too much cleavage to be entirely professional and was slit far too high on her thigh. “You look well,” Kim told Luanne as she settled back into her chair behind the desk. Luanne took one of the comfortable leather covered chairs across from her. “Thank you. I can’t believe it’s been over four years since I was last here. And I can’t believe I’m back and ready to work.” She looked around the office. Except for the small hints, it was outfitted much like those in the building she worked in. “About that,” Kim said, wasting no time. “You’re being hired for a particular skill. I need proof of that.” She wasn’t one to avoid an issue. “Proof?” Luanne had assured her old employer she could produce as needed. “I can’t risk losing this new client on a failure,” Kim said and reached into her desk to pull out a breast pump. It was a model similar to what Luanne used when she had returned to work and needed to express her milk. “I need to see physical proof before you’re hired.” She slid the pump across her desk. Luanne looked disdainfully at the pump. “I won’t need that,” she said coolly. “Do you have a towel?” Kim produced a small towel from within her desk and handed that over as Luanne unbuttoned her shirt. She had never been one to be shy about her body and had become even less modest after a pregnancy and breastfeeding. Still, Kim had seen her t**s on many occasions. This was nothing new…except for her recently acquired ability. Opening her blouse all the way Luanne reached up and dropped down the flap of her nursing bra. It was hardly sexy but it was comfortable. As her breast was exposed a slightly damp nursing pad fell onto her lap. Luanne ignored the pad and took the towel, placing in on her lap over the pad, and then grasped her breast in both hands. She glanced up at Kim who was watching with a detached professionalism. It took a few squeezes, but in less than thirty second Luanne sprayed a fine mist of milk immediately followed by a few healthy squirts that soaked into the towel. “Very good,” complimented Kim. “You can stop now.” Luanne nodded and pulled up the bra’s flap, hiding her n****e once more. “They’re bigger than I remember.” She started to button up her blouse “Pregnancy and breast feeding will do that,” Luanne said. “Don’t I know it,” agreed Kim. The statement caused Luanne to blink in confusion. “What do you mean?” Kim deliberately brought up her hands to cup and lift her breasts, carefully rearranging how her flesh was on display. “I know it’s been a while,” she said, “but I think I’m bigger than when you were last here.” “I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t spend a lot of time looking…” A broad smile crossed Kim’s face. “Well, it’s my job to make sure appearances are kept up. It was your job to make the clients happy. That being said, you and I are in the same boat, physically speaking.” It took Luanne a moment to comprehend what Kim was hinting at, but then realization struck her. She passed in buttoning her shirt. “You have a baby?” Luanne was floored. “It wasn’t exactly planned,” Kim commented. “Oh.” Luanne didn’t know what to say to that. “You look good. Your body hardly looks like it changed.” “Except for these,” said Kim, adjusting her t**s again for good measure. “And my belly isn’t as flat as it used to be. Plus I have stretch marks.” “Tiger stripes,” Luanne corrected her. “Right. Tiger stripes.” Kim paused and changed the direction of the conversation. “As I’ve already told you, we have a new client who is…very well off financially. As much as it pains me to say this, I’m running a business here that is supposed to make money. This could be a very profitable client for us.” A smile tugged at her lips. “Almost a literal cash cow.” The ridiculousness of the comment with their situation made Luanne want to laugh, but the contained herself. “Okay. I’m pretty sure I know what I’m supposed to do.” She finished tucking in her blouse and sat back in the chair. “Let me explain what exactly is supposed to happen tonight.” Two In some ways Luanne felt more comfortable being naked than being clothed. She felt like she was hiding nothing and could see that everyone else was hiding nothing as well. Stripping down to nothing in the basement locker room of the farmhouse was an old ritual she remembered fondly. Being naked made her free. Usually after getting naked she would immediately put on some ridiculous costume or another, but tonight she was to remain naked. With the remarkable poise of one who had done this a hundred times before, Luanne left the locker room and walked calmly across the lawn to the barn. She entered at the back into a small side room. Already there were three other women inside, one of whom she recognized. “Hi, Casey,” she greeted the slightly chubby blonde. Casey nodded in acknowledgement and then Luanne remembered that they were supposed to remain silent. The Farm workers generally took on a role and inhabited it for as long as possible before they started fulfilling the client’s fantasy. Usually at The Farm one could be assured of a variety of different body types and ethnicities, but that only partly applied to tonight. Casey was short and blonde, of the other two women, one was definitely of Asian descent and the other seemed to be of generic Western European roots, though she towered over everyone else in the room by a good six inches. What everyone in the room did share, besides their nudity, were large breasts. Luanne knew why; they were all lactating. The door opened and everyone turned to see Steffie enter. She was dressed in The Farm’s traditional servant costume: short French maid dress, corset, stockings held up with visible garters, and elbow length gloves. She wore practical shoes with enough of a heel to give her butt a lift. A shiny thin black collar circled her neck. “We’re waiting on one more,” Steffie said looking around the room. “Remember your places, remember your roles. Remember to keep silent, you are not to speak.” Her eyes rested on Luanne who looked away guiltily. She knew that The Farm was covered with cameras and microphones—supposedly for the safety of the patrons and employees, but Luanne had her perverse doubts—and was certain that Steffie had checked on them before she came to the barn.