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Veronica, looked over at Luke, knowing even before she did it what his response would be. He just raised a brow at her and went back to his breakfast. Well, he wasn’t going to forbid it. He hadn’t strictly ordered it, either.
Robert backed his chair out and pulled up her dress. “Straddle me. Now.” He was almost as frightening as Luke when he got that look in his eyes. But she was glad for it. She hadn’t come before Will had been finished with her. Her need was so strong now, she felt as if she was in heat. A thick, demanding cock was more relief than threat.
She whimpered as she sank down on him. He played with her breasts while she rode him. Fucking Luke’s ranch hand at the breakfast table while the rest of them continued on with their meals was almost too surreal to accept. But she didn’t have much time to think about it before another orgasm ripped through her.
As the last wave of her pleasure crested over her, Robert sucked and bit at her nipples, causing her to shudder violently in his arms.
While he amused himself with her, Will spoke. “I came up with a idea on how to make a milking machine for her. Robert said he can help put it together.”
Robert let go of her nipple. “As long as I can still milk her by hand.”
“Luke, what do you think?” Will asked.
Veronica wanted to hide her face in Robert’s shoulder, but that impulse warred with the need to see Luke’s reaction.
“I don’t see a problem with that,” he said as if it were the most normal thing in the world to talk about.
NINE
The milking machine was finished within three weeks. Once Luke had gotten the idea in his head about milking and drinking from her, he’d been a man possessed. He’d been religious about the hormones and massaging and suckling her breasts, never allowing her to achieve orgasm unless his mouth was latched firmly around one nipple. The guys had created a Frankenstein machine. Part milking and part fucking. It was a frightening-looking contraption that incorporated a bench for her to lie on her stomach. There were places for her breasts to be squeezed for milk, and two penetrating toys that would vibrate and drive into her repeatedly until she nearly went mad from the overwhelming sensations.
The feeling of being squeezed by the machine for milk was painful but also arousing. Without milk, it was going through the motions, but Luke was diligent, convinced that if he was patient, he’d get what he wanted out of her body.
Each night after dinner, Luke put her on the machine for an hour while he dealt with other things like making her list of chores for the following day and any bookkeeping or computer work he needed to do.
Before starting the machine each night, he lubed the parts meant to penetrate her. Then he turned it on a steady speed and left her alone. A strap around her waist secured her to the bench, making escape impossible. The only thing she could do was give in. Two months into this routine, the milk came.
Luke had brought his laptop into the playroom to work from the couch, a coffee pot plugged into the wall and a cup of black coffee in his hand. It had been his pattern for several weeks as if he didn’t want to leave her and miss it when it happened.
It started as a tingling and pressure, like pins and needles in her breasts. Between the machine and the vibrators working inside her, it was hard to isolate any one feeling from the whole.
Veronica writhed against the vibrating toys while she watched in fascination as the machine milked her, and the creamy liquid dripped into a glass bottle like the one in the fridge with the cow’s milk. Luke unfolded himself from the couch and approached the machine like a big cat stalking prey. He turned it off and smirked at the bottle.
He watched her, sipping his coffee for a while, then he took the bottle off the machine and poured a bit into his cup. She watched helplessly as he raised it to his lips and took a gulp of the coffee with her milk in it. It was humiliating and arousing all at once.
“I normally like it black, but that’s good coffee,” he said, glee plainly written on his face at his success. “Let’s find out if you taste as good from the tap.”
She didn’t fight him when he helped her off the bench and to the couch. As the time had passed between them, she’d given up the desire for escape. She’d become too addicted to the way Luke and his men touched her and too comfortable with a warm bed, food, and shelter. The weather had turned cold, and these were important things. It was too late for her to have another life, and despite what she was supposed to want, this one satisfied her.
Except on rare occasions when she especially pleased him and he invited her into his bed for the night, she slept in her own room. It had begun to bother her less. He didn’t call her Trish now, but sometimes when he called her sweetheart or dear, she wondered which woman he saw. As the time had crept by, it had gotten harder to obsess over the point. The only thing that mattered was the way he made her feel.
He’d been mostly kind—only punishing her when she disobeyed him. The terrifying day at the lake became a dim memory and seemed as if it might have been a dream. He never brought it up again.
Luke’s mouth descended on her breast and he suckled. He moaned as the milk began to flow down his throat. If she’d worried he might find the actual taste gross, the worry had been in vain. He drank from each breast until he’d drained her, which didn’t take long.
“You’ll produce more as time goes on.” He kissed the tips of her breasts and cradled her in his arms, then he went back and finished his work. That night, she slept in his room.
* * *
The next morningthere was no injection. The break in the routine was startling, but not unexpected. Now that she was lactating, it wasn’t necessary.
At breakfast, Will said, “I hear you’re producing milk like a good cow.”
Veronica looked down at her plate, her heart racing, the throb and ache starting between her thighs. Involuntarily, at her arousal, she felt the tingling in her breasts and then the milk as it seeped out and wet her dress.
“Go to him,” Luke prompted.
She forced herself to get up from the table and went around to Will. He pulled her onto his lap as soon as she was in easy reach. Since the weather had turned colder, plastic had been put around the porch, and space heaters kept the area somewhat warm. She took her sweater off, and he pushed the thin spaghetti straps of the dress off her shoulders, eliciting a shiver.
