Milking, humiliation

A young man hunts for his missing father and older brother, but he ends up being miked.

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Missing Another tale from the Farm – Part 3

Oliver was at the farm for six months when the first of several unusual things happened. Of course, given that he was a captive, milked of his semen for most of his waking hours, “unusual” was a relative term.

One morning, a guy four or five stalls down from Oliver went off. He was in his late twenties and the orgasm was building when he started shouting and struggling in his restraints as though the prospect of yet another imminent orgasm was just too much for him.

“Let me out, let me out, let me the fuck out of here! I’m not an animal, let me fucking go!”

The reality of being nothing more than a semen or milk donor, with no more hope of escape than a cow on a farm, occasionally weighed extra heavily on one of the victims.

The orgasm tripped and every restrained male in the livestock barn simultaneously started to cum, including the freakout guy. He continued thrashing futilely against his restraints, his thick cock held in place, and his thighs spread like he was swimming breast stroke. It was strange to see his upper body thrashing wildly, albeit restrained, while his exposed groin, which was raised into the air, barely moved at all. No matter how violently he struggled, his penis remained in place, the latex band twisting tantalisingly behind the glans, ensuring that irrespective of his emotions, his dick continued to feel incredible. He struggled as though his life depended upon it, but regardless of his exertions, down below, his testicles continued to blow their load for at least the thirtieth time that day. Indeed, his strenuous activity only enhanced the power of his orgasm.

A couple of farmhands walked over swiftly. One dropped to his knees and spoke softly to the man, trying to quiet him, but the man could not be calmed. Then the other man produced a syringe and jabbed the needle into the man’s rump. The man flinched and became even more animated for 15 seconds, then he passed into deep unconsciousness while his cock continued pumping.

Ten minutes and two cycles later, three farmhands returned and removed him on a gurney. Two hours after that, he was returned to his stall. His eyes were open but his expression was vacant, and there were no more episodes from him.

Oliver didn’t know what they’d done to him, but he knew for certain that he didn’t want his mind wiped like that.

For Oliver, the risk of a freak out was far lower. True, he found his situation unbearably unsettling, and humiliating beyond his worst dreams, and it was utterly exhausting to have to give up his seed over a hundred times a day, but at least he was close to his brother and father. Even though they were in exactly the same predicament he was in, he drew emotional strength and comfort from their presence.

Oliver didn’t notice anything strange until it came right up to him, but if he’d been paying attention, he would have noticed two men in casual attire escorted by Stephen. They stopped at several stalls, each occupied by younger donors, and after a moment, Stephen would hand them something, and they would raise it to their lips.

Then they arrived in front of Oliver.

“This is Oliver Wells, and this is his father Jason, and his brother Thomas.”

Stephen gestured to each of them as he named them.

“Ahh, a family group. How interesting. Of course, as you know, we’re not really interested in the older vintage, although… Thomas, did you say his name was?”

He looked at Oliver’s brother. Stephen nodded.

“Thomas is certainly a lusty specimen. That’s quite the cock you have on you there boy. You could make a lot of money fucking rich old queens like me if you worked in a different industry.”

His colleague tittered and simpered.

“Have you ever been fucked?”

Thomas scowled at him.

“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

The man hesitated then he understood the double meaning and he laughed.

“Oh, bravo boy, bravo! Yes, you are fucked indeed.”

He turned to Stephen.

“How long has he been with you Stephen?”

“Coming on two years Clarence.”

Clarence smiled, and turned to his companion.

“And yet he’s still so defiant, isn’t he, Archie?”

“Yes, yes!” his companion agreed. “SUCH a naughty boy. It would be such fun to address his attitude.”

Stephen watched the exchange with amusement. His homosexual clients were not their primary source of business, but they paid ten times as much for semen as the bacon farmers, and he always treated them with respect. These two were almost television caricatures of effeminate homosexuals.

“Yes, it would, although I quite like him feisty. It would make his asshole all the more enjoyable.”

Stephen listened to the conversation, ready to gauge its changing priorities. He didn’t sell his livestock often. The males were each worth $250,000 per year, and he wouldn’t part with them for less than ten times that. Few clients were willing to pay 2.5 million for a hole that would only be virgin once, and could then provide little more than the average male escort, although they could be… damaged, in ways that male prostitutes would never countenance. And some of his clients particularly appreciated playthings with testicles larger than grapefruits, but Thomas was not there quite yet.

Clarence continued.

“But that’s not why we’re here today is it, Archie? We’re just rustling up a little refreshment for a tasting that we’re hosting.”

Oliver listened with grim curiosity. A tasting? What was that?

Clarence turned and looked at Oliver.

“No, this young pretty is what I’m here for today.”

Oliver had never been told he was pretty before. Did the guy think he was a fag? What was that supposed to mean? He looked up at the man, from his position resting on his stomach.

As he pondered, Clarence interrupted his thoughts. He addressed Stephen.

“Do you mind if I collect a sample of nectar direct from the pump?”

Stephen smiled.

“No, not at all Clarence. Help yourself. Next squirt is due in…”

He looked at his watch.

“45 seconds.”

Clarence smiled, and from a compact leather male handbag, he produced what looked to Oliver like a small glass vial. It was 15 centimetres tall, and delicate looking, and lacked the measurement gradients of the larger vial beneath his cock. Clarence caught Oliver looking intently at the vial. He smiled.

“It’s lead crystal. Beautiful isn’t it? Something as sweet as a young man’s nectar deserves nothing less don’t you think?”

“Nectar?” Oliver queried.

“Yes, that sweet nectar that pumps from your balls.”

Clarence moved behind Oliver and leaned forwards, holding vial directly beneath the eye of the boy’s urethra, pressing it against the glans.

“You have a pretty cock too, young man.”

“What the fuck’s a pretty cock?!” Oliver wondered, what tiny semblance of manhood he had remaining, now feeling distinctly threatened.

“Here it comes,” Stephen said. ”in 3… 2… 1… ”

Oliver felt the familiar surge in his balls. He’d already ejaculated so many times today, but he still had more to give; two, three, four squirts of milky ball juice, each of them straight into the vial Clarence held. Clarence kept the vial tight to the glans so that none of Oliver’s baby juice was wasted.

The urethra stood out, pencil thick along the rear of Oliver’s penis, and when he was finally spent, Clarence ran the pad of his index finger down the back of Oliver’s hard cock, pressing the urethra to milk every last remaining drop of fluid. He stroked the shiny outline of Oliver’s exceptionally sensitive post-orgasmic glans for a few seconds, and Oliver squirmed, unable to push the fingers away. Clarence diddled the purple glans like he was unscrewing a bottle cap, and Oliver groaned, not with pleasure, but discomfort.

“Ahhh, uhhh, noooo!”

Clarence rose to his feet, and rejoined his colleague. He was smirking.

“I can’t resist playing with the livestock. I’m sorry young man.”

To Oliver, he didn’t sound in the slightest bit sorry. He sounded amused.

Clarence showed Archie the vial. There were 10 millilitres of semen in the bottom; two large teaspoon’s worth. It was not an enormous amount; just double the average man’s unaided ejaculation, but given that it was Oliver’s 37^th orgasm of the day, it was impressive nevertheless.

Clarence lifted it in the air, holding it so that a ceiling light shone behind it.

“Creamy. But not too much,” Archie observed.

“Like pearl. Perfect translucency,” Clarence added.

He sloshed it around, then sniffed it as though it was a fine wine.

“Your colts always have such sweet-smelling spunk.”

“It’s the diet,” Stephen said. “No meat; lots of fruit.”

“Maybe you should try that Clarence,” Archie said mischievously.

“Anything for you sweetheart,” Clarence replied. “Although most of it is going in your other end.”

Archie blushed.

“Oh, don’t blush Archie, I’m perfectly certain that Stephen is well aware of our relationship.”

Archie looked coyly at Clarence, and a smirk appeared on his face. He popped his slender hip out sidewards, like a woman trying to look sexy for an Instagram photo, and Clarence rewarded the playful gesture with a chuckle.

Clarence poured a small amount of Oliver’s spunk onto his thumb, then opened and closed it against his index finger testing the consistency. The fluid was just sticky enough to hang like baby snot between the two digits. Clarence rubbed it between his fingers and nodded approvingly.

“Just runny enough. I hate it when it’s too thick and lumpy, don’t you Archie?”

“Depends who it’s from darling,” Archie replied grinned.

“Oh you! You really are incorrigible, aren’t you?”

Archie’s grin widened.

Clarence lifted the vial to his lips and poured a little of Oliver’s semen into his mouth. He slooshed it around as though he was sampling wine again. Then he smacked his lips, rubbing it off his tongue.

He passed the vial to Archie, and his partner poured the entire remainder into his mouth and swallowed it down in a single gulp.

“Yummy!” Archie said and Clarence shook his head, laughing.

“I wanted your opinion, you voracious whore!”

“Yummy,” Archie repeated, with an expression like a naughty schoolboy, his eyes sparkling.

Clarence turned his attention to their host.

“Actually, I have to concur. It’s a fine vintage Stephen. We’ll take half a litre of this, and the same from the other five. Usual price?”

“Of course. I’m not sure that Willy or Noah can produce that much in a week yet, and you don’t really want it frozen when it’s for recreational consumption.”

“Oh, that’s a pity, but we can easily adapt. We’ll just take whatever they can supply. Thank you for watching out for us, rather than simply topping it up with slop from that old boy. I’d hate to mislead our party guests.”

“That’s no problem Clarence. I know that you value the more rosy-cheeked vintages.”

“Indeed. You can almost taste the vigour in it, and if there’s one thing my guests will appreciate is more lead in their pencils.”

Stephen nodded knowingly. He didn’t share his customers’ tastes, but he understood how they thought.

“I assume you’ll require photographs as well?”

“Oh yes, top and bottom; faces and cocks. It does so add a frisson, and we can play all sorts of games.”

“Oh, is that so?” Stephen said with curiosity.

“Yes, match the face to the juice, pin the tail to the donkey, well, colt, that sort of thing.”

Stephen smiled. Gaining a deeper insight into his clients was invaluable.

Oliver watched their interaction, listening with dismay. He knew that whether or not this bizarre couple bought his spunk, he would still cum hundreds of times over the next week, but hearing them talk about his jizz like it was the finest champagne was a bizarre experience to say the least. And even as he watched them transact business before him, his nudity, his straining boner, and his swimming leg posture somehow added to the surrealness of the situation.

Clarence looked down at him.

“Thank you for the donation young man. I look forwards to serving you at my soiree next week. It’s a shame you can’t be there in person.”

He mussed Oliver’s hair like he was rubbing a dog’s head, then he patted him on his bare rump.

“You stay safe.”

And with that, Stephen escorted the two buyers from the building.