One summer while a teenager, Peter visited relatives who owned a small ranch in the hill country. The attraction of the place for him was not the pleasant green hills and sparkling natural springs, but rather his distant cousin Ashley, a buxom country lass about his own age. At a brief meeting several months earlier, the sexually precocious girl had given the inexperienced youth his first lessons in making out, in the back seat of a Chevrolet at a drive in movie. Obsessed by the memory of his adolescent seed spilling in her hands as her fingers slowly teased his virgin genitals, Peter eagerly anticipated the visit.
The day after his arrival, Ashley offered to show him around the ranch, which was devoted to the breeding of cattle. After pointing out the stock pens and some of the prize breeding bulls, she led him into a small, clean building filled with equipment unfamiliar to the city reared teenager. “This here’s our breedin’ barn. This is where we inseminate the cows to get them with calves. Also,” with a sly smile, “where we milk the bulls.”
This last remark confused Peter. “Milk the bulls — I don’t understand.”
“I don’t mean the drinkin’ kind. Where do you think we get all the sperm for the cows?” She giggled, “Remember what I did to you at the drive in?”
Peter blushed in understanding. “Oh.”
Ashley walked over to a stall, beside which a large stainless steel machine stood. “This here’s the extractor. We lead the bull into this stall and strap him down good so he can’t kick up a fuss. Then we stick this hose on his pizzle and let it suck away on him till he creams.” She held up a clear plastic tube attached to the machine.
Peter stared in fascination. “You mean it makes him… ejaculate… just like…”
“Yep, it milks away at their pricks until they shoot a load, just like jacking off. I get a kick out of watchin’ them. They don’t know what’s happening, but they sure know it feels good!”
“Gee, do you do that to all the bulls?”
“Well, all the breedin’ bulls. ‘Course the ones we don’t breed get castrated. We do that in this stall, too. Sometimes Paw lets me work the castrator myself, and he says I’m real good at it.” Peter shuddered at the callous cruelty in her voice.
But his eyes remained fixed on the extractor. Ashley played with the tube in her fingers, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “The extractor don’t work just for bulls, you know.”
“What… what do you mean.”
“I came out here once and caught the hired man with his pants off and his prick in the extractor tube. He liked it too, ’cause he gruntin’ just like a bull. I went and told Maw what he was doin’, and she came out and ran him off with the cattle prod, didn’t even let him pull his pants back on.” Peter’s lips were dry as he tried to imagine the scene. She paused for a moment, and then asked, “What do you think it would feel like, Peter, gettin’ milked like that?”
“I… I have no idea.”
She gave him a devilish grin. “Want to try it?”
He gaped open-mouthed at her suggestion. “You mean… me… in the…?”
“Sure. I’ll work the extractor on you, and you can see how it feels. I know you like gettin’ jerked off.”
“Well… yes, but…”
“Then what’s the difference? C’mon, pull your pants off and let me give you a milkin’.”
If he were alone, Peter would have relished the chance to try the novel stimulation. But he was reluctant to perform to such a humiliating and bizarre sexual act in front of his adored cousin.
“Ashley, I couldn’t! Not with you…”
“Oh, don’t be such a chicken! Will you do it if I take off something first?” With that she quickly unbuttoned her work shirt and spread it open. Peter gaped as her enormous bosom was bared before him. Rather than removing the shirt, she tied the loose ends together beneath her breasts, lifting and framing them for his view.
“There. I showed you my tits, so you pull down your pants. Go on now, do it.” At the sight of her abundant womanhood, Peter felt all resistance ebb from him. Almost in a dream he obeyed, fearing loss of the heavenly vision if he refused. Ashley made him step out of his trousers and underwear until he stood before her naked from the waist down. Aroused by the experience, his penis jutted stiffly in front of him.
She pointed at this manifestation and giggled. “See, you really do want to, don’t you? Come on, get down on all fours in the stall, like a bull.”
Peter did as she asked, even allowing her to fasten the restraints used for the animals. As he knelt on hands and knees, she took two wide leather belts which hung by rope from the ceiling and cinched them tightly around his chest and stomach, forming a sling which supported his weight. She then attached wrist and leg bindings which secured his limbs to the four corners of the stall. He waited nervously, helplessly immobilized, conscious of his naked organs dangling between his parted thighs, completely at Ashley’s mercy.
She gave his penis a flick with one finger and said sarcastically, “You don’t exactly have the equipment of a bull, do you, little cousin? This here tube might be a bit large for you. But that’s OK, ’cause I’ve got a small-size one we use for the cocker spaniels Maw breeds. It ought to be small enough even for your little pizzle.” She chuckled, obviously amused by the humiliating comparison.
She attached one end of the smaller tube to the extractor and then prepared to slip the other end over Peter’s penis. But first she paused, thoughtfully studying his organs. “You ever see an ol’ heifer about to be milked, cousin? That’s just about what you look like, right now. She’s got a big ol’ floppy udder full of milk,” — she hefted his male sacks in her palm — “and a long ol’ teat hanging down between her legs,” — she ran a finger lightly down the sensitive underside of his shaft. “You ought to hear her moo, when her sacks are real full and she’s just begging somebody to squeeze it.” She tickled the little tuck of skin just below the head of his member, driving Peter nearly mad with excitement. “You want me to show you how a country girl milks a cow, Peter, how we squeeze those teats in our hands?”
He cried in agonized frustration, “Please, Ashley! Squeeze me!”
“Well, I don’t know, little cousin, how bad do you need milkin’? I don’t hear you mooing. Tell me how much you need it.”
Peter bit his lip, trying to resist yielding to her humiliating game. But the teasing finger continued to torment his frenulum, and finally he surrendered all dignity, willing to do anything for the promised caress. “…m…moo… Oh Ashley, milk me! Moo, MOO, MOOOO!” Laughing, she grasped his penis in her hand and began squeezing it with a practiced motion. Peter moaned with pleasure and continued to imitate the sounds of a cow for her amusement.
After a few moments, she tired of this game and returned to the main objective. She slipped his penis into the extractor tube and circled an elastic band around the neck of his scrotum, fastening the tube securely in place. Then without any announcement she switched on the machine. Peter felt and indescribable sensation. It seemed as if the tube became a living thing, a pulsing insatiable mouth, a creature thirsty for his very essence, sucking hungrily at his organ even as a calf might nurse urgently at his mother’s teat.
Ashley left the machine to work on his genitals and, going around to the other end of the stall, sat down cross-legged in front of him. Her large bare bosom was almost level with his eyes. He longed for his hands to be free to feel it’s soft massiveness. “Feels good, doesn’t it, Peter?” she grinned.
“Mmm…yes, Ashley. It does…”
She leaned forward, bringing her breast within inches of his face. “I bet getting sucked like that makes you want to suck on somethin’, too. Don’t it, little cousin?” Her breast was only an inch from Peter’s mouth, and the prominently erect nipple jutted more that half the space to his lips.
“Please, Ashley, may I?” he begged. In answer she only giggled, and leaned forward. He drew the rosy bud into his mouth as eagerly as a famished infant and began sucking. Ashley smiled to observe that his nursing lips matched perfectly the rhythm of the extractor on his organ.
How long he could have remained thus before nature ended his rapture in an ecstatic release, none can say. For Peter was suddenly, without warning, doubly deprived as Ashley quickly pulled her breast from his mouth and shut off the extractor. He groaned in disappointment.
“Hold your horses, Peter, we aren’t through yet. I got something else to show you.” She walked over to a wall rack and took down an unfamiliar implement. “Know what this is?” She held up an iron tool about two feet in length, looking like a cross between a pair of fireplace tongs and a bolt cutter. She parted the handles, and pliers-like clamps opened at the end.
Peter shifted uncomfortably. “N…No Ashley, I don’t.” Something about the look of the implement and the wicked glint in her eyes told him he didn’t want to learn.
“This here’s what we use on the other bulls, the ones we don’t want for breedin’. It’s called a bloodless castrator. See, this clamp end goes around their sacks, just above the balls. Then we give it a good PINCH!” She slammed the handles together, and the clamps closed mercilessly around an imaginary victim. Peter shuddered. “It’s not so bad as it looks. It don’t cut their balls off, it just breaks something inside, so in a couple of weeks their balls sort of wither away, and their sacks just hang there loose and empty. And it can’t hurt too much, because sometimes they don’t even know when I do it to them.” She giggled, “Especially if I’m milking them at the same time. I like to do that, so they’ll have one last time to remember what it was like.”
Peter felt an ominous foreboding at the direction of Ashley’s talk. “Uh… Ashley… I really have enjoyed this afternoon, and thanks for showing me the breeding barn, but I think it’s getting near supper time and we really ought to get back to the house now…”
“Naw, there ain’t no hurry, we got plenty of time left to show you how this gizmo works.”
She drew up a short stool behind him and sat down. “We put the bulls in the stall and tie their legs apart, just like you, Peter. That way we can get at their sacks easy.” She reached between his legs and began gently scratching his scrotum with her fingernails. Peter sighed deeply in spite of his growing anxiety. “We put the castrator right here, right around the top of their sacks.” She opened the handles and circled the neck of Peter’s scrotum with the pliers. The cold iron on his tender manhood made him wince.
“Please, Ashley… I don’t like this game very much. Can we go back now?”
She ignored him. Here voice changed, taking on a strange, alarming note of obsession. “You know that hired man I found out here? I didn’t finish tellin’ you about him. You see, I didn’t go tell Maw about him right away. I watched him for a few minutes, first, while he was playin’ in the extractor. Then he turned around and saw me watchin’ him, and the way he looked at me sort of made me mad. He was just starin’ at my tits, and that reminded me of how he was always rubbin’ up against me, trying to get a feel of them. That polecat just kept starin’ at me and jerking off, and then he even said, ‘Hey honey, take ‘em out and let me see ‘em.’
“Well that really made me mad, and I decided to teach him a lesson he wouldn’t forget. I told him I’d show him my tits if he’d let me milk him just like a bull. Well that fool didn’t even suspect, and no time atall I had him strapped down, just like you. I showed him my tits like I promised, and I set the extractor to milkin’ him. But just when he was starting to let his milk down, I slipped the castrator on him like this and PINCHED!”
She squeezed the handles, very gently, but hard enough to clamp Peter’s helpless glands in a painful grip. “Ow! Oh please, Ashley, don’t! Let me go…”
She eased the pressure and removed the tool altogether, and Peter breathed a sigh of relief. But then she reached down and flicked on the extractor. A moment later Peter felt the cruel metal again encircle his fragile masculinity and realized his ordeal was not over.
“It’s time to finish your milkin’, little cousin, and I’m going to make it real special for you.” She continued with a demonic giggle, “I’m gonna fix you, like we do the bulls, like I did that hired man.”
“No, please Ashley, don’t do it…” he begged.
“C’mon, Peter, let me castrate you. I bet you’ll like it. That hired man knew what I was doin’ to him, but he still had the biggest cum I ever saw. I think knowing it was his last made it really special for him. Let me do it to you.”
Although Peter was in a panic, realizing the peril he was in from the half-crazed girl, he tried to sound calm. “No, Ashley, I don’t want it to be my last, maybe sometime later, but I’m not ready just yet.” In spite of his terror, the he could not help thrusting his hips in response to the work of the extractor.
Her voice became intimate, tender, almost loving. “C’mon, Peter, do it for me. You really like me, don’t you?”
“…Yes, Ashley… but…”
“It’d be sort of like goin’ steady, like giving me your class ring, only better. This way, I’d know no matter what, you’d never get some other girl friend and forget me.”
“…but…” Peter was full of confused emotion. Notwithstanding the horror of what she proposed, some darker, mysterious urge began to stir within him. He squirmed about in his bonds, testing the unyielding grip of the tool on his testicles. What would it feel like, the ecstatic release, the moment of crushing force, the lifetime of chaste devotion to his beautiful despoiler. A nameless urge welled within him, reaching back through the millennia to a time when women ruled over men, and it was a coveted privilege for a man to sacrifice his masculinity to the high priestess of the Earth Mother. As the extractor drew him inexorably toward spending, these feelings warred within Peter. He moaned in his agony of confusion.
“C’mon little cousin, let me do it to you, let me castrate you. You really want me to, don’t you?”
As she spoke, Peter surrendered to the inevitability of climax. The pulsing suction urged him over the brink, and he began emptying his glands in gushing surges. The strong contractions of his penis were clearly visible to Ashley even through the plastic tube.
“Now, Peter! While you’re letting go– can I do it?”
In a delirium of sensation he moaned, “Please… Ashley… Please…” but he would never know for sure if he meant “Please don’t”– or “Please do.”
Regardless of the youth’s wishes of the moment, Ashley spared his manhood and laid aside the castrator. He long remained slumped in the restraining straps, speechless with the intensity of the experience, while Ashley gently cradled his sacks in her soft palm and patted his naked backside comfortingly. At last when he was rested, she released him and helped him to his feet.
“Did you really think I was goin’ to fix you, Peter? You sure creamed like you thought it was goin’ to be your last. C’mon, now. Didn’t that make it more exciting?”
Peter had to admit that it did. And though in the following weeks Ashley would thrill him with countless masturbatory treats– in the breeding barn with the extractor, in the hay loft with her knowing fingers, even once in the divine valley between her breasts– none would quite equal the intensity of that first experience.
As they walked back to the ranch house that evening, Peter could not help asking her, “Ashley, that time with the hired man. Was that just a story, or did you really…?”
She looked at him and smiled mysteriously for a moment. Then she said, “Hey! I think I hear Maw’s dinner bell. Race you back!”