The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Michelle didn’t bolt up straight or run. She was too wound up. Too wet. Her clothes were soaked from her Milk and her panties were drenched with her need. It didn’t matter that Vicki Wasserman — her boss’s sadistic wife — was watching her. Vicki’s hair was strawberry blonde in its usual tight ponytail and matching red power pantsuit. And the potentially adorable look of her plump face and freckled cheeks was betrayed by her dark and narrow eyes boring into Michelle. Vicki had lured her here. Vicki ran the Farm and owned all the girls here, all beautiful cows like Michelle. This was a trap, and now Vicki was going to spring it and laugh as it wrapped itself around Michelle’s ankle.

But Michelle just wanted to cum.

“Come cow,” Vicki said. “Get your hands out of your pants like a fucking whore and let me give you the tour.”

Michelle obeyed, slowly taking her fingers out of her pussy and moaning at the last bit of pleasure before taking her hand out of her pants entirely. She rose slowly to her feet. The theater-style dressing room combined with a reality-television common room was empty of the eight cows that lived downstairs in the Barn. Hank, Vicki’s ex-husband and the current handler of the girls and the Farm, was gone. They were alone.

Nothing good ever happened when Michelle was left alone with Vicki Wasserman.

“Come,” Vicki said.

Michelle shook her head. “I have questions.”

“Of course you do, and I don’t fucking care.”

“You did this to me.”

“What?” Vicki stepped closer. As she did, her nose wrinkled. “Jesus, fuck, you stink.”

Michelle blushed. She couldn’t imagine how bad it was. It was soiled breast milk and sweat and desperation soaking the cheap sweatshirt she could fit her massive tits into. “I know,” she said.

“Maybe this is why you can’t keep working at the office, hm?” Vicki stepped closer. She was near enough to kiss, but Michelle couldn’t do that, couldn’t want that. Vicki was nothing like Tatiana. Everything she did may thrill Michelle, but that was only because it also terrified her.

“Eloise told me you were slipping, but she didn’t say it was this bad. It all clicked when Hank texted me that you’d shown up. That’s when I knew you were ready to come work for me.”

Michelle shook her head. “I don’t want —”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want,” Vicki said. “And neither do you, honestly. You’re not my first cow. When they get to this point, they’re past want. It’s about need. The need to drink, the need to squirt, and the need to cum.”

Michelle tried to imagine what her life was before the Milk. She was a housewife for years, taking care of her children and husband. Then James hurt himself, and she had to go back to work, she had to take care of them still. She was responsible. That’s what it was. She was always responsible. Need. Right? She did whatever everyone else needed, what she needed. Vicki was more right than she could imagine, Michelle was always a creature of need and need only. She never followed desire. The only time she did what she wanted was feeding her Milk addiction, and this was what came of it.

Absolute destruction.

“You did this to me,” Michelle said again.

Vicki laughed. It was awful. Cruel. Derisive. Heartless. Amused. Condescending. Eloise was a controlling and bossy woman, but Vicki was a monster. A nightmare. Eloise would overwork Michelle without a thought, but Vicki would crush Michelle because it was funny.

More Milk flowed from Michelle’s breasts as she gasped, fighting back the moan.

“I did this? Tell me, did I force you to drink the Milk?”

“Eloise did.” Michelle’s voice was soft and far away. “You put her up to it.”

“No one puts Eloise Wasserman up to anything, cow.” There was venom in Vicki’s voice now. Danger.

Michelle craved it.

No. The cow craved it.

Michelle wanted to run back to her husband, back to her bedroom, back to her life. There she could curl into a ball, cry, and try to find a new job. But the cow wanted to sink to her knees and pinch her nipples to relieve the pressure of the Milk so she could drink it.

“You drank the Milk, and then you asked for more.” Vicki jabbed Michelle’s forehead with a sharply manicured finger. “You bought it from Hank when you couldn’t get enough. You mooed for it. You licked pussy for it. You licked the floor. You licked feet.” With each sentence, Vicki jabbed Michelle’s forehead again. Michelle staggered backwards, but Vicki followed, pinning her against the wall. “You think I could do all that? No. That was all you, cow. You were the needy and weak bitch that couldn’t get a coffee order straight.” A wicked smile spread over Vicki’s face. “But you can now, can’t you? All we have to do is dangle some Milk in front of you, and you’ll be perfect, won’t you?”

Tears rolled down Michelle’s face. Vicki was right. The Wassermans may have introduced her to the Milk, but she was the addict. Everything she did was her fault. She was destroying her own life, and the Wassermans were just having a bit of fun with her in the meantime. That was all. They were putting a useless junkie cow to good use.

“Now,” Vicki said as she stepped back. “Stop crying and let me show you what kind of operation we run here. Then you can admit that this is basically heaven.” She smirked. “And I’m god.”

Back in the main house’s kitchen, Vicki’s secretary — a skinny twig of a girl named Shirley with tiny breasts and mousy brown hair — was making them coffee. The men were gone. According to Vicki, Hank was out front to meet and greet guests as well as organize schedules and confirm appointments. If there were any emergencies, he was the one that had to figure things outs.

“It was the best decision of my life to leave him,” Vicki said with a smug grin. “Divorce a man, and he suddenly becomes unbearably attentive and needy.” Vicki shrugged. “I just put all that pathetic energy to use.”

Michelle nodded. All that mind-numbing arousal was gone now that Vicki’s heartless gaze pinned her. She had sold her Milk and established she could sell more. She didn’t want to work for Vicki even if she desperately wanted the cruel attention of her boss’s wife. Being under Vicki’s control 24/7 was something entirely different from having to lick her feet and moo for her occasionally.

Vicki laughed. “Don’t be so tense, cow. We’re going to take good care of you, just like we do all our girls. Isn’t that right, Shirley?”

“Yes, Mrs. Wasserman.” Shirley’s voice was soft, and she never made eye-contact with anyone. You’d think they’d want someone friendly and gregarious as the face of the office, but Shirley was a push-over. Though Michelle supposed that’s exactly what Vicki would prefer under her.

“Wh-What do you d-d-do here?” Michelle shivered from the cold. Her clothes were drenched, and without the heat of lust she felt like a drowned rat in front of Vicki Wasserman. The curvy redhead was in a tight black suit with flowing straight-cut pants. A cream blouse was buttoned all the way up to her neck, but Michelle imagined what lingerie she was wearing underneath. As long as she had known Vicki, she was always wearing lingerie underneath whatever stunning clothing she wore like armor.

“It’s a Farm, and we have cows. Don’t be fucking stupid.”

“Milk,” Michelle said. “You make Milk.”

Vicki shook her head. “No. You make Milk. Cows make it, customers help pump it, and Hank sells it.” Vicki spread her arms wide and smiled dangerously. “I’m just the brains of the operation.”

“C-C-Customers?” Michelle pointed to the empty couches. “Those men?”

“Not all men, but something about a good cock gets the cows mooing, yes.”

“Here you go, Mrs. Wasserman.” Shirley handed Vicki a cup of coffee — black with no sugar. She offered the same to Michelle, and the nervous cow took it. Caffeine may be awful for her nerves, but she’d take jitters if she could stay alert around Mrs. Wasserman’s predatory glare.

“This is a brothel,” Michelle said.

Vicki arched an eyebrow. “Not a complete moron.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Good.”

“Because arousal is tied to our Milk production?” Michelle stared at her black coffee. It needed Milk; it was the only way she could drink it. But she couldn’t bring herself to pump in front of Vicki. Besides, the Milk would turn her on again, and once that happened, she —

“Correct,” Vicki said. “The release is arousing. Arousal creates flow. The drug we’ve engineered fools the brain into thinking that when you’re wet, you have a needy baby to feed. It confuses moans for the sounds of a crying infant.”

“So it’s a drug. Not Milk.”

“Oh, breast milk is certainly a drug. Do you have any idea how many applications there are for it? It’s magic. It contains more nutrients than a whole meal as long as the mother eats healthy — so our cows’ diets are tightly controlled and monitored. It holds any anti-bodies the mother has — including vaccinations. You can rub it on pink eye or open cuts. It’s a miracle product but still very much a drug.”

“And you’re making it for m-m-medicinal purposes?”

Vicki laughed, and Shirley jumped behind her tiny desk. Michelle could imagine everyone at the Farm jumping when Vicki laughed. “Don’t be naive,” Vicki said. “We’ve made it addictive as fuck. You think I want people addicted to vitamins?”

“Why not? They’d be healthier and —”

“I don’t give a fuck about people’s health, do I, Shirley?”

“No, Mrs. Wasserman,” the slender woman said. It was almost a whisper, but Vicki went on as though she heard Shirley perfectly.

“That’s not entirely true.” Vicki took another sip of her coffee. “I care about the health of my cows, but that’s about it. Healthier cows make healthier Milk. Which reminds me, we need to talk about your diet. And do you have all your shots? Or are you some kind of rabid —” Vicki stepped closer and loomed over Michelle. “Are you going to drink your coffee or just hold it and shiver?”

Michelle shivered. “Um, it, it doesn’t have any M-M-Milk.”

“We’re all adults here,” Vicki said. Without any hesitation, she reached out and cupped Michelle’s heavy breast. Michelle sighed with relief to have someone supporting the heavy breast. “You can always pump around me.” She dropped the breast and stepped over to the sink, putting down her empty coffee cup. “Though I won’t touch the stuff. Never sample your own product. Especially after you’ve seen it ruin people the way I have.”

Michelle stood there, not knowing what else to do. Milk would ruin her. She knew it.

“Jesus,” Vicki hissed. Her heels clicked against the kitchen tiles as she marched towards Michelle and snatched the cup of coffee from the cow. “Shirley, Michelle here needs to be Milked. Can you help her?”

“Yes, Mrs. Wasserman.”

Michelle jumped; Shirley was closer than expected — right behind her. “No,” Michelle said. “I don’t think —” Shirley grabbed Michelle’s coffee, put it down, and pushed her out of the kitchen and onto one of the couches. Michelle tried to protest, but Shirley slapped her quickly. Michelle felt lightning erupt over her body. Not the lightning of pain, but the surge of pleasure. She tried to stifle her moan, but she still whimpered as the tiny girl pinned her to the couch.

Vicki Wasserman laughed from the kitchen.

“Hold still,” Shirley said with her same vacant and soft voice. Without any delicacy or sexual teasing, Shirley peeled up Michelle’s sweatshirt and stroked the heavy and swollen breasts. Michelle didn’t fight it. Her breasts started leaking immediately, and the relief was too much for her. Shirley’s fingers were cold and firm, but the way they pinched Michelle’s nipples was perfect.

“You’ve done this before,” Michelle said through breathy moans as she writhed under the tiny woman.

Shirley said nothing. When she got the Milk flowing, she stood up and turned to Vicki. “I need to shower now.” Her clothes and hands were soaked with Michelle’s Milk, and she looked at it as though it was radioactive.

“Of course,” Vicki said. “Tell your sister and the other cows we may be stopping by. I want to give Michelle the tour.”

“Yes, Mrs. Wasserman.” Shirley rushed out of the room, leaving Michelle to catch her breath on the couch while the Milk kept flowing against her wishes. She closed her eyes and tried to fight the urge to scoop it up with her fingers and drink it. She fought the urge to slide her hand between her legs and use the Milk as lube as she’d seen in the Barn. She’d done worse in front of Mrs. Wasserman, and the images she’d seen in the barn returned to her.

Only the clicking of Vicki’s approaching heels could help sober her mind.

“Here,” Vicki said, handing Michelle her coffee. “Drink. Now.”

“Yes, Mrs. Wasserman,” Michelle found herself saying. She sat up, grabbed her coffee, and squirted into the cup before drinking it all quickly. “Fuck,” she sighed as the buttery goodness melted her free will and resistance. Without being asked, she sank off the couch and onto her knees by Vicki Wasserman, assuming her place in the world.

“Yes,” Vicki said. “Fuck indeed.” She reached out and ran her hand through Michelle’s hair like a favorite pet. “It’s a drug, yes. And it’s magic. It’s both. And maybe I can market it as a new magic medicine — we’re looking into it. We’re looking into a lot of things. Why else do you think I married Eloise?”

Michelle said nothing. As the Milk flowed through her system, it softened her mind. It wasn’t her place to ask questions. It was her place to be on her knees and what for whatever amused Mrs. Wasserman.

Or Milk. Michelle reached a hand under her shirt and ran it over her sticky breast. Milk was her other purpose in life.

“Stop that,” Vicki said. She slapped Michelle’s head, and the cow pulled her hand out of her shirt.

“Yes, Mrs. Wasserman,” she said. The pain brought some clarity. Vicki married Eloise for her connections and apparent rise in Thatcher Dynamics. That was clear now. Eloise could be CEO in a decade or two of one of the largest companies in the country. With her, their production and distribution of Milk would be unparalleled. Besides that, they could put the Milk through all kinds of research and development, making new products from it.

“Good,” Vicki said. “Now, I need to show you around and get back to Eloise before I blow my brains out from boredom.” Vicki snapped as she walked away from Michelle, going back to the front room where Michelle had met Hank and the rows of his family pictures — the part of the house that definitely did not feel like a brothel.

Hank was waiting for them. “Hello, heartless bitch,” he said as Vicki stepped into the foyer.

“Hello, useless cunt,” Vicki said back with a grin. “How’s the night?”

“Besides the uproar cow number nine here caused with two bottles of Milk for the girls?”

Vicki looked up the huge staircase that rose in the middle of the room up to the third floor of the house. “It’s good for them — and the product. Gets the juices flowing. That’s what the customers want.”

“Sure, though I’d rather not bang some broad and have her squirt all over me.”

“Would you prefer some stud squirting over you?” Vicki said without looking at her ex-husband.

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

Hank shook his head. “It’s just not my fetish, you know?”

“Nor mine, but it makes us both a great deal of money, doesn’t it?”

“That’s true, Vi — I mean, uh, Mrs. Wasserman.”

Vicki turned to face Hank. She leaned close and whispered. “You know, we’re looking at something for addictive cum. Would you like to be a test subject?”

Hank shook his head. “No thanks.”

Vicki leaned in closer, almost as though she was going to kiss him. “Have girls clawing at your cock, begging to drain it dry?”

Hank didn’t look bothered. “I bet it works both ways, right? Just like the Milk. I’ll be an addict and a supplier.”

Vicki’s lips hovered over Hank’s ears. “Would that be so bad? Don’t think I don’t know your fantasies. You’d make a cute cocksucker, and I’d love to see that stupid fucking mustache coated with cum.”

Michelle waited for another retort from Hank, but he had nothing. He simply stood there and shivered, and Michelle couldn’t ignore the huge erection desperate to be free from his pants. Vicki owned him like everyone else. There was no escaping her. Even Eloise’s bitchiness seemed to diminish around Vicki.

“Who is free?” Vicki said as she pulled away.

“No one,” Hank said. “And I don’t think they’d let their rooms be empty for five minutes. Like I said, they’re all riled up.”

“Then we’re going to security. I want one girl free before the night ends.”

“Yeah, sure thing, um, Mrs. Wasserman.”

Vicki casually reached out and patted Hank’s erection like it was an adorable pet. “Good boy.”

Hank shivered, and Michelle mimicked him. Did Vicki make everyone feel like a pathetic cow? Was she God? Michelle had never been a religious woman, but this felt like the fear and awe she read about in the Bible whenever God or an angel appeared.

“Tatiana seemed real interested in your new girl,” Hank said. His voice was soft. “And she’s been burning through her clientele tonight. I’ll find a spot for you with her.”

Michelle’s mind instantly conjured an image of the curvy redhead with fiery hair, pale skin, freckles, and cruel features. Tatiana was like a heartless Celtic queen that Michelle absolutely wanted to bend the knee for. She’d bend anything for a few minutes alone with her, and then she’d —

She didn’t know. Michelle wasn’t gay. She wasn’t bi. She’d always been married to James, always felt attracted to him until he grew boring and useless. Yes, she’d been subjected to sexual humiliation with the Wassermans, but the key word to her was humiliation. It was all for the Milk. All about the Milk. Even when they tricked or forced her to lick their pussies, it was to humiliate her. It wouldn’t be humiliating if she liked it. Nothing about their bodies aroused her. Just the shame. Only the shame aroused her.

Until Tatiana.

It had been a quick and effortless kiss, but it had lingered on Michelle’s lips. What would she give to have another one? To try it one more time and be a bit less surprised, to participate with the redhead instead of standing in shock? What else would she do with the big breasted ginger? Yes, Milk. They would drink and drink of each other, but could there be something else? Was there more that Michelle wanted than Milk?

“Come,” Vicki said with another snap of her fingers. The sound killed Michelle’s reverie and the loyal cow followed Mrs. Wasserman around the staircase to another side room on the first floor. She expected to step into another mockery of a family room in this quant suburban house, but instead she was greeted by a bank of computer monitors and two men in suits sipping coffee while they watched the camera feeds from each of the cows’ rooms. The room must be soundproof because a chorus of moaning and the slapping of skin on skin as meat pounded flesh washed over them. The high-pitched squeal of a woman close to orgasm was matched with the throaty roar of a man cumming inside her.

“Fuck, Howard,” Vicki said with a groan, “turn off the goddamn sound.”

One of the guards — a bald one with veins rippling through his thick neck — sat up abruptly and cut off the sounds, silencing the moans of the brothel. “Shit,” he said, “I mean, Mrs. Wasserman. Uh, fuck, sorry.”

Vicki turned to the other guard. “Was this him or you?”

The other guard, a dark-skinned black man with a beautiful and large afro, said, “Him,” before taking a long sip of coffee.

“You’re fired, Howard. I’ll be filing a sexual harassment suit against you if you ever break your NDA.” She pointed up to the corner of the room where a security camera was watching the security room. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Howard opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. Without a word, he stood up, straightened out his jacket with a firm tug, and walked out of the security room with an obvious erection tenting his pants.

The other guard didn’t speak, and Vicki didn’t speak to him. She didn’t speak at all. She simply gestured to the rows of computer monitors and let Michelle see for herself. There were cameras all over the house, all over the Barn, and all over outside. The guard flipped through them casually while sipping his coffee, never lingering on the rooms Michelle assumed were upstairs. The girls weren’t in the Barn — that was where they slept. The girls were working, seeing customers, and getting fucked.

Getting Milked.

Vicki’s operation was brilliant. The women fucked, and while some men drank the Milk and became instant addicts to Vicki’s products, others just wanted to help the Milk flow. One watched a cow pump herself and masturbated in the corner. These men were here for the Milk, either as junkies or as part of their deepest fetish. And the girls wanted to be fucked. They wanted to make the Milk flow, whether they were drinking it themselves or just relieving the pressure in their tits. Michelle thought of the Latina yelling at Hank to let them get to work. She needed to pump. That was it. And arousal was connected to flow.

Michelle looked over the monitors and found the room where the Latina was serving two customers at once, one at either end. She was on all four like a good cow, with a cock in her mouth and her pussy while they rammed her relentlessly. She had a pan beneath her tits, catching the constant flow of Milk. Michelle wished she had sound, but she could tell from the way the Latina’s eyes rolled back, the way she slammed her hips against the huge cock inside her, the way she let the other cock slide deep down her throat that she was having a good time. A great time. The time of her fucking life.

All the cows were having the time of their lives.

It didn’t take long for Michelle to focus on Tatiana.

She wasn’t like the other girls. Looking at the cameras, Michelle watched room after room of big breasted woman bent over and fucked hard. Or maybe their tits were fucked with a huge cock sliding between them and coated with Milk. Or maybe they were sucking cock — gagging on it really — and hoping to get more Milk shot over their face and tits. Each of them was desperate and hungry, and though some of them acted like bad bitches in the Barn — Michelle thought of the Latina woman and the purple-haired twin — once in the bedroom, they were just like Michelle. They were cows with aching breasts and an uncontrollable need to drink.

But not Tatiana.

For one, she wasn’t fucking a man in her room. A beautiful woman with long dark hair was between her legs, and Tatiana was stroking her lover’s hair. It was delicate and romantic, yes, but there was something else Michelle couldn’t name. Tatiana didn’t seem to be emotionally invested in her lover — that wasn’t it. There was a tenderness, yes, but —

“You like her,” Vicki said.

“What?” Michelle stepped back and looked away from the monitors. She was leaking from her tits and her pussy was soaked, but that wasn’t new or interesting anymore. That was her constant. “Who?”

Vicki nodded towards the monitor showing Tatiana’s screen. “Tatiana,” she said. “You have a bit of a crush on her.”

“Oh, um.” Michelle shook her head. “No. I’m not — I mean, I don’t — I’m not a —”

“You didn’t complain when you were between my wife’s legs.” Vicki ran a hand over Michelle’s cheek. The cow hated it. Her body loved it. “Come,” Vicki said with a snap. “She’s almost free.”

Vicki walked out of the room, and Michelle slowly followed, letting her eyes linger on the monitor showing Tatiana as she came. She held the woman’s face tight against her pussy and pulsed her hips, practically fucking the poor girl’s face. Her back arched, and little jets of milk shot from her nipples, landing on her pet’s hair.

Pet.

That was it. Tatiana was using her customer. She wasn’t a tender lover, but more of a tender guardian of her favorite plaything. Michelle shivered at the thought. Tatiana was no less of a bitch than Vicki, but she was much less of a bully.

“Jesus,” Vicki said with a sigh. “I hate working with morons.” She grabbed Michelle’s arm and dragged her out of the security room. They stopped by the kitchen while Vicki double-checked with Shirley that Tatiana was free and that any incoming customers were to be held. When that was sorted, Vicki led Michelle up the stairs. They went past the second floor and headed for the third, and as they moved, a skinny Asian woman with hair past her ass — and covered with sticky Milk — floated down the steps with her clothes in disarray. But none of her mess seemed to bother her. She was in heaven with a dreamy smile on her face as she moved past them.

“Until next time, Madame Ambassador,” Vicki said.

The Asian woman blushed, but she didn’t let her serene face fade. She had just fucked Tatiana — a Milk goddess. Even the casual attempt to shame her from Vicki Wasserman couldn’t ruin her mood.

When they reached the third floor, Vicki took them down a long hallway. The upper floors looked less like a white and sterile house in the suburbs and more like a Victorian manor. The walls were a beautiful mahogany and portraits of nude women lounging and being fucked in a Renaissance style covered the empty spaces between rooms.

Vicki didn’t knock on Tatiana’s door, and when they came in, Tatiana was sitting on a desk and smoking a cigarette. “That’s a dirty habit,” Vicki said.

“I’ve got dirtier,” Tatiana said.

Vicki chuckled. “Tatiana, I want you to meet —”

“Oh hello.” Tatiana got off the desk and put out her cigarette. “I had hoped you’d take me up on that free ride.” She looked past Vicki and locked her eyes on Michelle. Michelle felt it immediately. Her mind softened, and her nipples stiffened under the commanding and hungry gaze of the naked and curvy ginger.

“I want her to see the —”

“Perks, yeah.” Tatiana turned her attention to Vicki. “I got it, boss.” She waved a hand towards the door. “You can go unless you want join us, but I charge five thousand a fuck unless you’re her.”

Vicki’s smug smile faded. She stepped forward and grabbed the back of Tatiana’s hair, jerking her head back. “You cunt.”

But Tatiana didn’t cry out or flinch. “Careful with the product,” she said. “We may not have many rights, but most of your girls can barely stay sane enough to find a senator’s cock. And none of them fuck ambassadors or their daughters like me. Think of all the female clientele you’d lose.”

“You think I can’t bend them?” Vicki curled her fist, pulling Tatiana’s head closer to the floor while straining her neck as her head went further and further back. “That I can’t break them?”

Tatiana didn’t whimper. “Dunno,” she said. “You can’t seem to break me.”

Vicki held Tatiana’s hair for a long moment and glared into her cow’s eyes. In a final moment, she hissed and released Tatiana’s hair. “Fuck you,” she said. “And fuck her,” she said pointing to Michelle. “Hard and good.” Then she slammed the door, and silence fell around the two cows.

Tatiana went to her vanity and grabbed a brush, she brushed her hair, and for a long moment, that was the only sound in the room. When she was done, Tatiana grabbed her pack of cigarettes. She offered one to Michelle with a gesture, but Michelle shook her head.

“You’ll be more comfortable on the bed,” Tatiana said with a puff of smoke. “Almost everyone is.”

Michelle smiled nervously. She waited for Tatiana to say something else, but the ginger didn’t. She kept smoking her cigarette, and Michelle didn’t move. If she went to the bed, then that meant —

“I’ve never been on a bed during … um …”

“Sex?” Tatiana arched an eyebrow. “Bit of a kinky floor cow, are we?”

Michelle laughed and blushed. She didn’t know how Tatiana was turning her on and softening her up at the same time. The cow was magic.

“No, during a Milking, I guess. It’s normally in bathrooms or office floors.”

“See,” Tatiana tapped ash off her cigarette, “that is some kinky shit.”

Michelle laughed again. “It’s not as kinky as pathetic.”

“Oh.” Tatiana put out her cigarette. She slunk towards Michelle once more, the hunger in her eyes obvious. “Pathetic is plenty kinky to me.” Without hesitation, she reached out and gently grabbed Michelle’s hair. In one deft motion, she pulled the hair up and tied it into a bun. As she loomed over Michelle to do it, her breasts hovered in front of Michelle’s lips. The smell of Milk was intoxicating. Michelle’s knees softened, and she almost collapsed to the floor and begged to serve Tatiana right then and there.

“First rule for us,” Tatiana said when she was done with Michelle’s hair. “Is hair up. We deal with a lot of sticky liquids and while being ruined with fluids is hot at the end of a session, you’ll have a new John in here right after, and he’ll want you looking like you just stepped out of the club. Got it?”

“Um, yeah.” The reality of the situation struck Michelle. Not just the beautiful bisexual woman tempting her — her first potential female lover — but the idea of being a prostitute in Vicki’s brothel. “I wasn’t really — I mean, I don’t know if I want to work here.”

“Of course you do,” Tatiana said. “But it’s not for the cock, is it?”

Michelle’s mouth went dry. No. It wasn’t for the cock. In all the videos on the monitor, she wasn’t looking at the cocks. She didn’t want to be any of those women being plowed and fucked. No. She wanted the Milk. The tits. She wanted Tatiana’s room. She wanted —

“We all work here because of this.” Tatiana rubbed her breasts, drawing slow circles over the heavy orbs and finally ending her finger tracing at her nipples where little bubbles of white heaven were dripping to the floor.

Without warning, Tatiana squeezed her nipple and shot a jet of white milk at Michelle’s face. Michelle first cried out in surprise, but that quickly turned to a moan as some of Tatiana’s milk landed on her lips — in her mouth.

“Oh fuck,” Michelle said.

“That’s right,” Tatiana said. She stepped closer and peeled off Michelle’s sweatshirt without any hesitation. “We fuck for the Milk. It’s better than the pay.”

“Mhmm,” Michelle said.

“And we can’t do anything else, can we?” Tatiana bent down and took off Michelle’s sweatpants in another easy motion. “Especially the stupid cows like you.”

Michelle’s brain was fuzzy, but she wasn’t sure if it was the Milk or Tatiana’s words. They weren’t harsh like Eloise or Vicki. It was adoring. It was amused. It was like she was talking to the cutest and dumbest cow MILF in the world.

Which, of course, she was.

Tatiana hooked her hands around Michelle’s panties, and reality shocked Michelle back. She reached out a hand and grabbed Tatiana’s hands, holding them there. “Um, I’m not — I’m not —”

“Yes?” Tatiana said, looking up. She arched her eyebrows, not surprised that Michelle was relenting, but amused. Amused that Michelle was trying too hard to fight it when she clearly wanted it. Amused to see where this was going. Amused to see what the stupid cow would try to say. Amused to see the older mother trying so hard to maintain any sense of dignity.

Amused.

“I’m not gay,” Michelle said softly.

Tatiana laughed and stood up. “Oh really?” Tatiana said. “That so?”

Michelle nodded.

“But you’ve been desperate to get your mouth around my tits all night.”

Michelle nodded eagerly.

“You may not be gay, but you’re plenty queer, pet.”

Pet.

“The question is,” Tatiana said. She went back to her pack of cigarettes and lit another one. “Do you want me to prove that to you?”

“Um …” Michelle didn’t know the answer. Did she want to know for sure? If she did, there would be no going back. But she was already there, wasn’t she? She hadn’t fucked her husband in almost a year, and she had no interest to do so. Did she want any man? She thought back to the cameras and the dozens of cocks she’d watched fuck the cows. No. She didn’t want that. She knew she’d take it if it meant cumming and cumming meant Milk. But she also knew that her time between Eloise’s legs was the best sexual experience she’d had in her life. The rest — the rest with men — weren’t even close.

“How?” Michelle asked.

“That’s a good question.” Tatiana tapped the ash on her cigarette. “The Milk ruins it. You’d fuck anything for some Milk.”

Michelle nodded, not ashamed to admit it. She knew it. All the cows knew it. Refusing Milk wasn’t like refusing food; it was like refusing air.

“Then no Milk.” Tatiana went to a dresser and rummaged around until she took out an orange lace bra that matched her fiery hair. She put it on deftly, then reached back in the drawer and grabbed two pads to absorb the leaking Milk and put them between her nipples and the bra.

Michelle whimpered as the tits — as the Milk — went away.

“I know, pet,” Tatiana said. She went back to the ashtray to tap her cigarette. “It’ll be a reward if you’re very good and very gay. Sound like fun?”

Michelle nodded. She didn’t know if it sounded like fun. In one part of her brain, anything Tatiana suggested sounded like fun. But that part was horny and drowning in Milk and stupid. In the other part — the part with children and a husband — she wasn’t sure if being with a woman without Milk would be fun. Could anything be fun without Milk?

“I … I …” Michelle didn’t know what to do. Somehow, this felt like the threshold. This was the final line. Once she crossed it, she knew everything would be over. She wouldn’t have debt if she didn’t have a husband. She wouldn’t have a husband if she were gay. She would have Tatiana. She would have Eloise. She would have Milk. Did that sound so bad? It was pathetic and addicted and slutty and gay, but it was so much better than the life she was already leading. The past had led her nowhere but here. It was all leading to this.

Michelle leaned in and kissed Tatiana. It was hesitant at first, like a middle schooler’s first attempt in some stupid school dance. But Tatiana wasn’t going to settle for that. She wanted Michelle nice and gay? Fine. Michelle wrapped a hand around the back of Tatiana’s neck and pulled her in closer, deeper.

Tatiana was gentle with her, and that surprised Michelle. But in the end, she was thankful for it. Though she wanted to be devoured and abused, she would have loved to be forced, to say the Milk made her do it, but Tatiana’s tenderness robbed her of all that. Michelle only pursued what interested her about the redhead’s body. For long stretches of time, it was her lips. How had Michelle gone so long in her life without tasting a woman’s lips? They were soft and wet, and the sound of a woman moaning under your touch was the most powerful feeling in the universe.

Almost as good as Milk.

Michelle moved Tatiana to the bed and trailed her mouth down the ginger’s pale body. She stopped at Tatiana’s breasts, smelling the Milk budding beneath. She nuzzled at them like a cat, ready to suck on the lace for the faintest taste of Tatiana, but the redhead finally showed some initiative and gently pushed her head further down. Michelle trailed kisses over Tatiana’s body, loving the soft give of her lover’s curvy tummy.

Lover.

The word took Michelle’s mind by storm. Had she ever considered James her lover? Maybe once upon a time, before Michelle knew how boring and useless James would become. He was nothing like Eloise. Nothing like Tatiana. He made her a housewife, when she wanted to be a cow. She wanted to be with someone soft and yielding like her. She wanted Milk and soft lips.

Lips.

Michelle knew where this was heading, where it would end. In fire. She was always heading towards fire and a blissful death. Tatiana was a natural redhead, and her beautiful bush of bright orange lured Michelle in. She hesitated before licking the wet folds of Tatiana’s pussy. Her mouth hovered for a moment over the slick flesh. She wished then for Milk, for something to push her over the edge, to take away the choice. She wanted the easy way, the way of a dumb cow.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Tatiana said.

Michelle cursed her lover in that moment. She wanted Tatiana to grab the back of her head and force her tongue deep inside Tatiana’s pussy. She wanted a reminder that Milk was on the line. She wanted to see Tatiana filming her and threatening to blackmail her if she didn’t make the redhead cum soon.

But Tatiana gave her nothing but a choice.

Nothing but free will.

One. Last. Time.

Here was the line. Michelle could go back. She could walk out of this room and check herself into some rehab institute. Hell, she could still fulfill her plan to be a cam girl and pump Milk to sell for the rest of her life.

But she couldn’t go back to James.

And she couldn’t go back to being a secretary.

And she couldn’t lie and say she was straight anymore.

Michelle lowered her mouth and slowly licked Tatiana’s vulva. Just a taste. Just the tiniest taste. She expected it to be gross or revolting, to taste like James’s cum. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t Milk, but it was still sweet and rich. The taste made her mouth tingle.

“There ya go,” Tatiana whispered as she arched her back. “Just do what you want.”

And Michelle did. She was clumsy with her tongue, struggling to find the clit and then trying to get her tongue as deep into Tatiana’s pussy for no other reason than she had heard about it from people that watched porn. Tatiana guided her then, telling her where to lick and how fast. She enjoyed the taste, enjoyed the sound of Tatiana’s moans filling the room, enjoyed the feeling of the woman — a woman — writhing under her, and mostly enjoyed the soft smell of Milk filling the room as Tatiana’s arousal built.

But nothing prepared her for the joy of making a woman cum. Her tits were small fountains constantly leaking as her pussy thrummed to give her lover pleasure. Tatiana’s primal bitchiness returned as she grabbed the back of Michelle’s head, holding her mouth against her pussy, grinding her hips over Michelle’s face, using any pressure — even Michelle’s nose — to get herself off, to take her deeper, to build the orgasm into something unforgettable.

When she was done — when her thighs quivered with delight and exhaustion — Michelle expected the session to be over. Eloise always dismissed her when she was finished. James would pass out. But Tatiana wasn’t done, and Michelle learned another perk of being gay.

“Come lover, you’ve proven what a good dyke you can be with some training.” Tatiana pulled Michelle up and reached for the snaps of her bra. “Come get your reward.”

When the bra fell away, Michelle’s brain turned off. She didn’t think about this momentous orgasm or the decision she’d made or the line she crossed. All she thought about was Milk. The smell suffused the room, and without permission or warning, Michelle was latched to Tatiana’s breast, suckling Milk straight from the source for the first time in her life.

Buttery.

Sweet.

Well-earned.

Milk.

“Feeding time for both of us, cow,” Tatiana said. Her voice was thick with lust as she flipped Michelle over her, getting access to Michelle’s leaking tits. She latched on, forming a sixty-nine of tit-sucking, and Michelle’s vision went white with pleasure. It was closer to pain, now. It hurt too good to have a woman drinking her. It delighted too much to feel Tatiana’s soft and perfect lips against her tit. It hurt too good to drink from the source. It delighted too much to have Milk running down her throat and over her lips with a hard nipple in her mouth.

Too much.

Too much.

Too much.

Michelle’s hand was between her own legs, fingering herself wildly as there was a knocking on the door.

“Time’s up,” Vicki’s voice said through the door. “You have customers.”

Tatiana pulled away. “Fuck off, I’m making you more money right now.”

Vicki didn’t knock again, and as Tatiana latched back onto her breast, Michelle didn’t care if Vicki and the customer came in and watched. She didn’t care about anything. She was going to cum. She was so close. She kept thinking of her new life. Her new gay life. She was thinking over and over, “This is the first orgasm of my new gay life.” She was going to leave her husband. She was going to quit her job. She was going to find herself, her own self, her true self.

And she was going to come back and fuck Tatiana as often as she could.

Or the Latina.

Or the twins.

The thought pushed her over the edge. She could trade Milk for time with the girls — time with the cows. Hank would be fine with it. She would trade bottles and bottles of the stuff to have the twins suck her dry, one on each tit. That’s right. She didn’t need to be a useless cow. She could own cows. She could make cows if her Milk were the same as theirs. Then she could have her own twins.

She could even start with Bella. Little, bitchy, Bella.