So Wrong (the collected pornographica of Elsie)

The girl in the next stall was sobbing piteously. It grated on my ears. What did she have to cry about? She’d only just gotten here.

I shifted in my restraints. It’s not like the stalls were particularly uncomfortable. There was hay on the floor, and padding in all the right places. I was bent over, with my midsection and wrists locked into a wooden stocks, a spreader bar at my ankles keeping my legs wide apart. The stocks bore most of my weight. My tits hung down like a pair of udders. Which, I suppose, is exactly what they were, because all day long they were connected to a milking machine that constantly sucked and tugged at them. My poor nipples were distended, red and angry, and so very sensitive that at night, sometimes, I could orgasm just by playing with them. That, of course, might earn me a beating if I were caught. Or it might get my pussy licked. It all depended on the overseer.

There was a muffled shout, a smack-crack, and a stifled scream, suddenly cut off. Then the sobbing turned into a muted sniffling. The overseers don’t like crying. It disturbs the studs.

We were in the stalls, I don’t know, 8, 10, 12 hours a day; hooked up to the milking machines, and available for the studs to use. All that suction on my breasts, all day every day, and not one drop of milk. Worse yet, though I got fucked on a fairly regular basis, I still hadn’t gotten pregnant.

I’d been in the barn for three months, more or less. Hard to say exactly, one loses track of days. But I’d had my bleeding time twice since I’d been here, and I could tell from the slight bloating and cramping inside my gut that it was coming on again.

Girls don’t last more than three months here. I don’t know what happens to them. They get hauled away, often times sobbing and fighting, and they are never heard from again. I don’t want to find out. But I may not have any choice.

The sound of the milking machine is hypnotic. It would put me to sleep, but the constant tugging at my nipples keeps me aroused. I think I can still hear the girl next door softly crying, but I can tune it out.

I just wish somebody would come and fuck me! Oh My God. Aside from the very real problem of needing to get pregnant ASAP, my cunt really needs some cock in it, in a bad way! It’s been a few days, and the last guy was… disappointing. He felt like he was on the small side, and he sure didn’t last very long! It barely even started before he was finished. Sometimes a mediocre fuck is worse than not getting fucked at all.

The slave boy was coming through with his brush, slapping a mix of lube and hormones onto the arrayed cunts. The hormones were supposed to make us more fertile, the lube… well, obviously it kept us ready for any passing stud. The boy was a eunuch, he had no interest in our cunts at all. When he came to my stall, the slap of the wet brush against my ravenous pussy made my clit swell and ache. I’d heard the boy could be bribed, and that a little concerted action from that brush of his could make a girl come. I believed that!

But it surely wasn’t happening today. One wet slap across my vulva, and he was on to the next stall. Lingering could earn him a beating; get done early and he could sneak in a short nap or a cigarette.

Sometimes I fall asleep in the stalls. Sometimes I don’t even realize when I fall asleep. I’ve woken up before to find some stud fucking my juiced-up cunt. It’s not the worst way to wake up!

I’m not sure if I fell asleep, but I suddenly became aware of someone in the stall with me. The hay rustled behind me under someone’s feet. There was a sharp slap across my ass, then another on the opposite cheek, which sent shivers of anticipation coursing through my body and making my wet pussy drool even more.

They came around the front. This was not unheard of at all. Sometimes the studs either wanted or needed some oral action before they fucked you. But woe to the poor girl who made a stud come with her mouth! At least woe to her if she got caught…

He didn’t look like a typical stud. He was slightly built, slender and somehow feminine. Most of the studs wore t-shirts or went topless, and wore sweat pants, or baggy shorts for easy access. This one was nicely dressed, all black: pants and a button-down shirt. I checked out the prominent bulge in the front of his pants as he looked me over with a sardonic sneer on his angular face.

He grabbed me by the lips, pinching my face, forcing me to look up at him.

“Nice udders,” he sneered. His voice was soft and poisonous. “Look at those big teats, and not one drop of milk. Pity. Such a pretty young thing, and if she don’t get productive fast, it’s the boneyards for sure.”

The stud started to unbutton his trousers. He pulled out his cock, and I gasped aloud: it was huge. It was the biggest I had ever seen, and over the last couple months, I had seen a lot of big dicks. It was hard, black, and shiny. It was also not attached to him. The cock, exquisitely detailed, appeared to have been carved from some dark wood. It was heavily veined, with a flat base and a large bulbous head, and it glistened with oil.

“He” was really a “She”. She had pulled down her pants, and she had a curly brown triangle of pubic hair above plump, meaty lips. She took out a little brass key and inserted it in the side of the wooden cock, and started winding up the clockwork motor inside.

“Cow,” she said. “Make me come with your mouth, and I’ll get the highest sperm count stud in this barn to fuck your cunt, this very afternoon. If you don’t get me off, it’s the boneyards for you, slut.”

She positioned the cock so it was jutting out of her crotch, held loosely in place by the opening of her pants. I could smell her excitement. The thing was fucking huge, far bigger than any cock I’d encountered yet. It was like the size of my forearm. The mechanism inside started to whir and click.

“What are you waiting for, cow? A written invitation? Open wide…”

I obeyed, and she immediately jammed the buzzing wooden cock into my open mouth. I choked and gagged, trying to pull back, but was prevented by the stocks holding my neck and wrists in place. She pulled the cock out and slapped me across the face, hard.

She laughed out loud. I was pretty sure she’d split my lip. “You’ll have to do better than that, Slut. Now suck my dick like you mean it!”

This time when I obediently opened my mouth, she shoved it straight down my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I panicked, thrashing against my restraints, which seemed to amuse her no end. She grabbed me by the hair and used my head as leverage, grinding her pussy and clit against the buzzing base of the cock buried in my mouth. I tried to scream, but no sound could get out. I flailed and retched impotently as she gloated “Oh fuck yes, fuck, suck it you fucking little slut…”

I think I passed out a little. The next thing I knew, the wooden cock had been removed from my mouth and I could breath again, and I was shaking, dry-heaving, miserable in my stocks as she smirked down at me.

“What a good little cocksucker you are!” I spat out a mouthful of bile, mixed with blood. My lip had been split wide open. “You made me come so good, you horny little cow! I’m definitely going to use you again! Oh, the fun games we’ll play…! But first, we need to get you laid. Don’t go anywhere now!”

She patted me on the head, like a pet dog, and disappeared out of my line of sight, leaving me to my misery. But not for long.

I heard someone enter the stall behind me. He came around to the front. It was Rupert, one of the studs. I don’t think he’d ever fucked me before. He was short, greasy, with stringy black hair and a bit of a belly. He wore nothing but cut-off sweat pants, tied with a piece of string.

“I hear you suck cock real good,” he said, and without waiting for a response, pulled down his sweat pants, exposing a thick soft cock and fat pair of balls. I painfully opened my mouth, and he fed me his sweaty dick, which I sucked like a thick noodle between my bruised and busted lips. This, at least, was a real, normal cock, and I knew what to do with it.

He swelled, growing hard and big for me. I do take pride in my work! He was large and thick, but not outrageous. Even if I hadn’t been lubed up by the slave boy, my cunt was plenty wet for him.

He pulled his erection out of my mouth, and it bobbed in front of me, glistening wetly with my saliva. I felt a rush of pride and excitement. “I did that!”

It was a nice cock too, now that it was fully erect: big and thick, but not too big; nicely shaped with a slight upward curve and a swollen plum-shaped crown. That thing was going to feel so good inside my hungry pussy!

Of course he didn’t say ‘Thank you’ or anything, or even acknowledge the work I’d done with my sore mouth; that wasn’t his style. He just walked around behind me, around the stocks and outside of my field of vision.

I felt his hands caressing my buttocks, and I purred with horny anticipation, wiggling my rear and straining against the spreader bar to open my legs even wider.

The head of his cock brushed up against my cunt, nudging in between my drooling, ravenous labia, and I moaned out loud. Then it was withdrawn.

He spread my butt cheeks, and I arched my back, inviting him to enter me already.

He nudged forward, and I felt pressure in a place I wasn’t expecting it at all. The head of his cock was pushing up against my anus, pressing hard and harder, insistently trying to enter my asshole.

“No!” I gasped out loud. “No, no not there!”

The pressure on my backside did not let up. He grabbed a fistful of my hair. “What was that? What did you say?”

The word “no” was rarely heard in the barn, and never without consequences. I shut my mouth.

It wasn’t the act itself I was afraid of. I’d had studs stick a finger in my ass before, when they were fucking me, and honestly it felt kind of nice. In other circumstances, I would have been quite willing to give it a go. But I needed, desperately needed, to get pregnant. And this wasn’t going to get me knocked up, no way, no how.

Rupert had a handful of my hair, and he kept pulling as he rudely shoved his dick inside me. Little by little, he slipped inside. The sensation was decidedly odd. It wasn’t painful, not exactly, but it felt… precarious. I wasn’t sure I could take the whole thing, but I knew I had no choice in the matter.

I blew a long slow breath out, willing myself to relax. Rupert grunted, and shoved himself roughly forward. I felt something let go and he slid past the tight ring of muscle, entering me.

I was stretched almost to the breaking point. I needed just a moment to get used to the intrusion, but Rupert just started thrusting away. The sensation was almost more than I could stand. I realized that I was keening wordlessly out loud.

As the initial shock of penetration faded, I slowly realized that this was, if not exactly pleasurable, exceedingly intense and stimulating. If Rupert had just reached down and slipped one finger into my cunt, stroked my clit (some of the studs would do that for you sometimes), I would have come, and come hard while he butt-fucked me. But Rupert wasn’t that type.

He pounded my ass, grunting with each thrust, until he came. Finally, he buried himself all the way in my ass, and I felt his cock twitch inside me. He made a guttaral noise, like a horse whinnying, and he relaxed his grip on my hair. He pulled out, leaving my asshole twitching, tender, and bewildered.

Rupert slapped my hard across each cheek, leaving red hand prints, I’m sure, and said something I couldn’t quite make out, “That’ll …. stupid cow”, followed by a throaty chuckle. Then I was alone again, his sperm leaking out of my anus and dribbling useless onto the hay below.

God damn it! What a fucking waste.

Then, without any warning, I felt another pair of hands on my hips. I hadn’t even heard him enter the stall. Suddenly another cock was probing my vagina, entering me. This one was quite a bit bigger, and despite my copious wetness, it took some maneuvering. I was fucked, hard, fast, and deep, stretching my pussy and filling me to overflowing with fresh semen. And after that, another. And another. And another. My cunt was raw and tender, my clit bulged out like a tiny cock, come ran down my thighs in thick sticky rivers. And still they came. I’m pretty sure there weren’t that many studs in the barn; either some of them were doing double duty, or some of the hired help and stable hands were joining in the fun. It didn’t matter: I loved it.

One of them jammed at least one, probably more, fingers up my poor, tender, freshly fucked asshole. I howled.

Another stud graciously reached around, rubbing my sensitive clit while he fucked my overstimulated pussy, and I immediately came, waves of grateful bliss as the orgasm rocking through my body, setting him off so he came along with me, riding the contractions of my climax as my pussy milked his cock.

There were more after that. I really have no idea how many. It was a good thing I was locked into the stocks, because I would have collapsed long before they were done. As it was, I managed to stay conscious for them all, bleating like a whore, taking each and every cock and doing my best to give it all the pleasure I could mete out.

Finally there were no more. I was panting, drooling, stupidly exhausted. She came up to me, the woman in black. She slipped two fingers into my mouth, past my swollen, busted lip; and I sucked them like a little cock. They tasted like pussy.

“Well,” she said. “If you ain’t knocked up by now, I’ll eat my hat!” she withdrew her fingers, and plunged them back down her pants. “We are going to have so much fun together!” she looked at me appraisingly. “Well, at least I am going to have a lot of fun, I’m not so sure about you,” she said. She pulled her fingers out of her pants, sticky with her secretions, and blew me a little kiss. “See you soon.”

I wept, with exhaustion and relief. I wept silently, big fat tears rolling down my cheeks, I knew better than to make noise crying. I wasn’t sad, I was just emotionally carpet-bombed. If my hands had been free, I would have rubbed myself to one orgasm after another, but as it was all I could do was wait. My teats hung down, tender and swollen, like over-ripe fruit on a tree, as the milking machine droned its long monotonous song.

Slowly at first, first from the left one, and then from the right, white fluid started to dribble out of my nipples. At first it was only a few drops, and then it became a steady stream, filling the vacuum lines and splashing down into the glass jug below, steadily filling up the container with sweet, white, life-giving milk.

END