Tyrone led Kelly into the milking chamber, the air thick with the scent of leather and machine oil. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a single bulb hanging above the milking station. Kelly’s heart pounded as she followed him, her bare feet silent on the cold concrete floor. She wore nothing but her collar and the cowbell that jingled softly with each step, a constant reminder of her new identity.
“On your knees, ” Tyrone commanded, his voice deep and authoritative. Kelly obeyed, dropping to all fours, her plus-size body arching gracefully as she positioned herself in front of the milking machine. The device loomed before her, its metal parts gleaming under the dim light. Tyrone knelt behind her, his large hands gripping her hips as he guided her into place. “Relax, ” he murmured, though his tone left no room for disobedience. “This is for your own good.”
Kelly closed her eyes as Tyrone attached the milking machine to her full, heavy breasts. The suction cups clamped onto her nipples, and the machine whirred to life, sending vibrations through her chest. She gasped, the sensation a mix of pleasure and pain. Her breasts, already sore from days of milking, throbbed under the machine’s relentless pull. Tyrone adjusted the settings, increasing the suction, and Kelly’s breath hitched. “Shh, ” he said, his hand resting on her lower back. “You’re doing fine.”
As the machine hummed, Tyrone began to undress. Kelly watched from the corner of her eye as he shed his clothes, revealing his muscular, tattooed body. His skin glistened with sweat, and his large, erect cock stood proudly between his legs. She felt a familiar heat between her thighs, her body responding to his dominance despite the discomfort of the milking machine.
Tyrone mounted her from behind, his weight pressing down on her. Kelly moaned softly as he positioned himself at her entrance, his huge black cock pushing against her. “Ready for me?” he growled, his breath hot against her ear. Kelly nodded, her voice muffled by the machine’s hum. “Yes, ” she whispered, though the word was barely audible.
With a single, powerful thrust, Tyrone buried himself deep inside her. Kelly’s eyes widened as he filled her completely, her walls stretching to accommodate his size. The milking machine continued its rhythmic pull, the vibrations now mingling with the sensation of Tyrone’s cock moving in and out of her. She felt torn between the pain in her breasts and the pleasure radiating from her core.
Tyrone began to thrust, his movements slow and deliberate at first, then faster and harder. Kelly’s moans grew louder, her body arching with each thrust. The cowbell jingled with her movements, a mocking accompaniment to the sounds of their coupling. Tyrone’s hands gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pounded into her. “You’re mine, ” he growled, his voice laced with possession. “Every inch of you belongs to me.”
Kelly’s thoughts blurred as pleasure overwhelmed her. The milking machine’s hum blended with Tyrone’s grunts and her own muffled cries, creating a symphony of submission. She felt his cock swell inside her, his balls slapping against her clit with each thrust. “Cum for me, ” he commanded, and Kelly obeyed, her body trembling as she climaxed around him.
Tyrone followed soon after, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his seed. “That’s it, ” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Take it all.” Kelly moaned, her body still shaking as she felt his warmth spill into her. The milking machine continued its work, her breasts aching but now producing a steady stream of milk, a testament to her body’s conditioning.
Tyrone withdrew, his cock slipping out of her with a wet pop. Kelly collapsed onto her stomach, her breath ragged as she lay there, the milking machine still attached. Tyrone stood over her, his chest heaving as he watched her. “Good girl, ” he said, his tone almost tender. “You’re learning your place.”
Every three to four hours, another bull would lead her back to the milking chamber, the cycle repeating itself. By the fourth day, Kelly’s breasts were chafed and raw, but she had begun to produce milk consistently, her output increasing with each session. She lay on the floor, her body glistening with sweat, the milking machine still attached, as the next bull approached. His presence loomed over her, his shadow falling across her body.
Kelly closed her eyes, her mind numb to the pain and pleasure. The cycle seemed endless, her body and mind pushed to their limits. She no longer questioned her fate; she simply accepted it. The outcome was left unresolved, her future uncertain, but one thing was clear: she was theirs, body and soul, a hucow in every sense of the word. The next bull knelt beside her, his hands gripping her hips, and the cycle began anew.