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“Well, you’d better train her up right. Give her a good demonstration of the propertechnique.”
His entire body was covered in a spotted, short-haired hide of sable and cream, and his long member bore the same markings, Violet saw once he lowered himself to the bench, cock slipping through the opening. The spots on his shaft were interrupted by several thick veins, the markings fading as her eyes traveled up the stiff length, her mouth running dry at his wide, mid-shaft swell, ending in a light pink head the size of her fist, the deep slit at its tip already beading with moisture.
“This won’t take long,” he chuckled, groaning when the technician’s oil-slickened hands gripped him, slickening his skin in a smooth glide. “I’m ready to burst as it is, this is two days of build-up.”
She stepped closer as her training partner began stroking the long cock, wanting to ensure she was fully concealed beneath the bench . . . and wanting a better look, she admitted to herself. His balls indeed looked full to bursting, at least to her eyes, watching in fascination as his sac tightened as he was pumped, the twinned bulges the skin concealed raising slightly.Pressure on the head,she read, glancing down to his chart, and sure enough, the technician’s hand had closed over the minotaur’s cockhead then, pushing back the thick foreskin, her wrist moving in a figure-eight movement as she squeezed. Violet was certain she was blushing at the squelching sound made by the movement, but the minotaur above didn’t seem to mind, letting out a deep bellow.
“Mmmm, you know that’s what I like . . .”
When his hips began to pump against the upholstery, chasing his release with sharp thrusts, the other girl motioned meaningfully to the chrome-plated milking machine, nodding with a smile when Violet hesitantly reached out to flip the switch. The motor whirred to life, the piston within beginning to move.
“You want to pay attention to their cues,” she said, once Violet had leaned in to hear her over the noise of the motor. “Once they start bucking, it’s best to just turn it on, that way you’re ready. In the beginning, you can turn it on as soon as you start, until you’re comfortable judging. It’s better to be too quick with the nozzle than too late.”
When the antennaed girl passed her hand over the minotaur’s swollen testicles, he jerked hard against the bench, grunting. “Get ready, new girl,” he groaned out, his hips stuttering when the technician picked up the nozzle, sucking it over his dripping head in a teasing manner, “I’m about to blow, and you don’t want to miss a drop.”
The nozzle made several passes, his pink cock-tip disappearing and reappearing, a wet thread of his prerelease clinging obscenely to the lip of the silicone before it was worked over his shaft fully, and then it was all over. The minotaur arched against the bench, groaning something unintelligible just before he came, shaking against the upholstery and filling the bottle at the base of the collection unit with ropes of white, his hips hitting the bench with a terrifying force, over and over, culminating in a grunt of satisfaction as he slumped against the headrest, drained. The milk bottle, Violet noted with a trembling hand, was full.
“He’s one of the Earners,” the antennaed trainer explained after the cocky minotaur had risen and redressed, wishing her good luck with a wink that sent heat flooding to her cheeks, before leaving the room with a jaunty whistle. Violet watched her efficiently pull one of the bar codes from the clipboard, neatly affixing it to the front of the bottle before the label was scanned, the white-filled bottle placed on a small scale until the digital display flashed.Accepted - 24 fl oz.Twenty-four ounces, she thought to herself, gulping. She wondered over the puddle size twenty-four ounces would make, what a mess that might be to clean . . .
“Those are the clients that can account for every drop. Literally, they can pull on their balls and calculate exactly what they’ll be making for the day, it’s wild. You definitely don’t want to be too slow with the nozzle with any of them!” Violet nodded, making a mental note, hoping she’d remember to add it to her binder.Earners—be quick with the nozzle.“So you need to put the sticky label from his file on the bottle, scan and weigh it, that’s how they get paid,” the trainer instructed, “and then this collection tank and hose get put on the conveyor, we don’t have to do the cleaning, thank the goddess. You go over the sanitation checklist, I’m going to go grab the next file. We probably only have about fifteen minutes before the next appointment, so be quick about it.”
She sprang into action, panicked at the thought of slowing down the schedule, slightly horrified over what she’d just witnessed, over what she’d be taking part in . . . and more than a little curious to watch it happen again. You can do this, just think about the loft above the garage. What’s worse?Squaring her shoulders, Violet double-fisted the cleaning nozzles like a cowboy, already knowing the answer to that particular question.
