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Waking up, coming into awareness, is difficult. My head hurts and my body is sore and stiff. “Where am I?” is the predominant question in my mind followed by “WHAT is going on?” As I try to move, I find that I am constrained. As best I can tell, I am standing, bent over something like a bar with my upper chest resting on another bar. My legs are spread wide and secured that way and I feel the soreness of high heeled shoes or boots on my feet. My arms are also stretched wide and back and there seem to be some kind of mittens on my hands which are forced into fists.

I feel some sort of garment covering most of my body except for a few key areas. It feels like my cocklet, balls, and arse are accessible through a hole in the garment and my upper chest also feels exposed. Otherwise, the garment clings to me like a second skin. I appear to be wearing some sort of hood and as I blink my eyes I realize that I can see with some difficulty. There is not much to see, though. The best that I can tell, I am in some sort of barn. As I try to rise, I realize that I am secured to the two bars over which I am bent by a third bar between them holding down my back from rising. There is a gag into my mouth and as I try to speak, something surprising comes out instead of my words, a long “moooooooo.”

As I take stock of my situation, I think about how I may have gotten here. I am a recent transplant to this mid-western town and I have lived on one coast or the other most of my adult life. I am something of a kinkster and it had been easy to find play on the coasts or in Chicago though in this new town, I was worried that opportunities would be few and far between. When I heard on my favorite kink dating site that there was a party coming up, I signed right up. I did not pay much attention to what options I checked, though I was sure to indicate male bodied, gender fluid, open to all orientations, and unattached. There was something about experience level and I checked “high” smugly.

There were a few interesting options and I checked “abduction, ” “consensual non-consent,” and “anything goes” in terms of interests and a few other items since it was right at the beginning of my vacation. I decided to dress in my best femme attire for the event, with low heels, hose, garters, sexy little thong over my gaffed cocklet, and a short leather skirt on the bottom. On top, a lacy bra covered my small breasts and I wore a white silk blouse. A discreet collar, indicating my desire to be submissive, my short dyed bayburt escort hair styled in the latest faux hawk style, modest makeup and jewelry, and my winning smile. I was a perfect submissive femme.

Although I was nervous, I mingled at the party and I got a few compliments. I ended up talking to a few other want-to-be submissive at the bar. After a while, we were approached by some intimidating doms and dommes, who offered to buy us some drinks. I toyed with the bracelets I wore that I believe indicated my interests and limits with their various colors and accepted a Manhattan from the bartender. Not having eaten much all day, the first drink eased my inhibitions a little and the second found me starting to get buzzed. It was not surprising that I followed a dom/domme couple to a dark table in the back of the venue. They handed me a third drink which while also looking like a Manhattan had a curious taste and smell.

As I stand here, bound and helpless, I realize that they must have drugged and abducted me. I try my bonds again and find myself helpless. Again, I try to call out through my gag and I am greeted with a long “moooooo.” I hear a low chuckle and raise my head to see someone entering the room. It is the domme from the event, though now wearing a long rubber apron and not much else. From the bottom I can see high heeled boots and it is clear she is not wearing anything under the top of the apron, which more or less makes up a halter top.

She walks around me and seems to take me in. I follow her as far as my head will turn and see that I am correct. From the back, I can see that the rubber apron is her primary garment along with a thong and thigh high rubber boots. I also notice she is wearing rubber gloves that reach past her elbows. She comes back around the front pushing something tall and narrow in front of her. She turns to me and smiles, then turns around what she is pushing, a full length mirror.

I gasp when I see myself though what comes out is another “mooooo.” I see a cow head hood on my head, complete with long ears, sad looking eyes through which my eyes look, and mouth that moves with my mouth, presumably attached to the gag in my mouth. The rest of my body is covered with a skin tight garment made of some substance–rubber I guess–that is patterned like a Holstein cow. The garment is mainly white with large black blobs here and there, I can see my cock and balls dangling outside the suit and bartın escort my breasts are exposed. Looking down, I see my feet have been transformed into high heeled hooves and I can see what must be hoof mittens on my back stretched arms. I try to speak again and all that comes out is a series of moos which sets the domme off laughing. “I see our subject is awake and aware!”

“Welcome to my… farm, Daisy,” she says, meaning me. “I was surprised that a newbie to the party had stated such broad limits though I checked with the hosts and it was true–abduction, consensual non-consent, up to one week availability, anything goes, and few limits.” As I heard this, I tried talking again and just ended up mooing more, now plaintively: a week? few limits? What had I gotten myself into. “Surprised, Daisy? Well, you signed a binding contract, so here you are… wherever here may be.” She began laughing again. I am truly fucked though I have not idea just how fucked I will be.

She walks behind me again and I feel her hand resting on my ass cheek then her other hand probing my bottom, spreading some cool lube. She slowly though not gently begins working her fingers into me, bringing forth a number of moos as I toss my head and try to move away from her, fruitless though it is. I can feel her adding more fingers and probing deeper into my bottom. While not unused to a good arse fucking, I usually prepare by stretching myself out beforehand. She is doing the stretching for me, though. More lube, more pushing into me, more lube, twisting herself into me, all the while me protesting with a chorus of plaintive moos. Pushing deeper and deeper, I feel more and more full, and eventually I find it impossible to stop myself from pushing against her fingers and hand until my bottom yields and I fell her fist slide deep into me, my bottom closing around her wrist with a sense of relief as the stretch grows less.

She continues to hold her other hand on my cheek and then begins fucking me slowly, almost pulling her hand out and letting my body pull it back in, over and over for what seems like an endless time. She rocks her hand and I feel an urgent need to pee though nothing happens. After some time, she begins pulling more firmly and I can feel her hand begin to slip from my bottom, leaving me gaping and trembling after the intense fist fucking.

As the fucking is completed, the dom rolls in a cart and I realize it is a milking machine, with two ığdır escort pairs of dual hoses. He stops the cart in front of me and locks the wheels, handing one of the pairs of hoses to the domme, putting the suction on low. Suddenly, I feel cool lube on my cock and balls and then the suction of one tube on my cock and the other on my ball sack, each being slowly drawn into the milking host. I squeal/moo as my nether parts are sucked into the milking machine hoses and held there securely. I see the dom approach with the other two hoses, putting them onto my small breasts, capturing my nipples in the mild suction. He moves out of the way and I raise my cow-head to see the four milking hoses on my breasts, cock, and balls in the mirror.

It is difficult to see behind me though it is clear the domme is doing something. Then, I feel something at my gaping bottom and then hear the noise of some kind of machinery. I feel something pushing into my helpless bottom, something like a large, firm, lifelike cock which bulges in such a way that it rakes across my already sore and engorged prostate. The cock withdraws almost all the way then firmly pushes back in, beginning a steady fucking that increases in pace. While the fucking begins, I fail to notice the rhythmic sucking that begins on my “teats”–my breasts, cock, and balls, starting slowly though increasing in pace and strength.

Then both the dom and domme are standing in front to me. They talk to each other and not to me–What does a cow care?–though of course I can understand them as they speak. “How long to start, do you think?” says the dom. The domme replies, “Oh, how about 6, with 1 on, 1 off, and we can see how Daisy responds. I also recommend the extra stimulation, set to random, so she does not get too complacent.” As if on cue, my bottom and balls light up with a searing jolt of electricity, the cock rubbing right across my tortured prostate and my balls trying to pull into my body uselessly. I experience the first of what I believe will be many unsatisfying ejaculations, forced and helpless.

It is only then that I notice the small bottle attached the milking cart and I see the first squirts of cum milked from my aching cock. I shudder and buck but my restraints are too secure, my situation too hopeless. The dom laughs, “Oh, look, our first sample. I wonder how much she will produce. I think you are right, 6 hours, 1 on, 1 off is a good start.” My slowly degrading thought processes fire, “Six hours!?” This, this is what I have gotten myself into. Of course, my breasts are dry so that is just rhythmic torture as they become more sensitive. My cock and balls, however…. With the cock stimulating my prostate, the rhythmic of the hoses, my cock being massaged and my balls squeezed painfully, I don’t know how much cum these two sadistic farmers can get out of me.

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