The silence of the barn was broken only by the ragged, synchronized breathing of the two figures in the hay. Kenta stood tall, the golden light of the afternoon filtering through the wooden slats and casting long, predatory shadows across his form. Emily remained on her knees, her body a landscape of soft curves and flushed skin, her eyes wide and fixed on him with a mixture of terror and intoxicating adoration.
Slowly, deliberately, Kenta reached for the belt of his trousers.
He didn't rush. He wanted her to see. He wanted her to understand the full scale of what was about to happen. As he unbuckled the leather and slid the fabric down his hips, Emily’s breath hitched. Her large, doe-like eyes traveled downward, and as his manhood was finally freed, her face turned a shade of crimson that rivaled a sunset.
"M-Master..." she whispered, her voice cracking. Her cow ears flicked violently, and her tail thrashed against the hay, kicking up the scent of dried grass. She was mesmerized. She had never seen a man like this—so dominant, so ready, and so terrifyingly large compared to her own delicate, soft features.
Kenta smirked, his eyes dark with the power of the Incubus bloodline. "Like what you see, Emily?"
"It’s... it’s so..." she couldn't finish the sentence. She just stared, her mouth slightly agape, a thin trail of saliva glistening at the corner of her lips.
Kenta didn't give her a chance to recover. He moved behind her, his shadow swallowing her small frame. He pressed his front against her plush, rounded back, the heat radiating between them like an oven. He reached down, his large, milk-stained hands wrapping around her thick, juicy thighs, and pulled her back against him.
"Ahhn! Master!" Emily squealed, her back arching as she felt the hot, rigid length of him press firmly against the junction of her thighs.
Kenta began to slide his cock slowly between her legs, rubbing the sensitive head against the outer lips of her pussy. He wasn't going in yet; he was painting her with himself, teasing the slick, honey-like moisture that was already beginning to leak from her core.
"You're so wet for me already," Kenta growled into her ear, his breath hot and smelling of her own sweet milk. "Did the milking make you this needy? Or is it just the thought of your Master taking you?"
"Nnnngh~! Both! Ahhh, it’s both!" Emily sobbed, her head lolling back onto his shoulder.
Kenta’s hands were a blur of motion. His left hand traveled upward, clamping onto her massive, sagging left breast. He squeezed the heavy flesh with a brutal, possessive force, rolling the thick, pink nipple between his fingers until she shrieked with a mixture of pain and ecstasy. Simultaneously, his right hand buried itself in the colossal, wobbling weight of her right ass cheek.
He didn't just hold her; he claimed her. He kneaded the thick, dimpled flesh of her rear, his fingers sinking deep into the soft, feminine fat.
SLAP!
With a sudden, sharp movement, Kenta brought his palm down hard against her left buttock. The sound echoed through the rafters, a crisp, stinging report that left a bright red handprint on her pale skin.
"Mooooo-ahhh!" Emily let out a shocked, animalistic cry, her body jumping in his arms. The sting sent a fresh jolt of arousal straight to her clitoris, making her drip even more.
"Stay still, cow," Kenta commanded, his voice vibrating with the Incubus Whispers.
He began to grind his cock against her pussy in a slow, rhythmic circle. He felt the slick friction of her juices coating him, the heat of her body threatening to melt his resolve. He leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just above her leather choker. He started kissing her—rough, hungry kisses that claimed her skin, leaving dark marks behind.
"Ah! Haaah... M-Master... please..." Emily panted, her voice a chorus of desperate moans. "It’s too much... I can’t... ahhhn! Master’s hands... they’re making me crazy!"
Kenta ignored her pleas, focusing on the sensory overload. He could feel the vibration of her golden bell against his chest—jingle-jingle-jingle—the sound of her submission. He shifted his grip, his thumb finding her clitoris and rubbing it through the thick, translucent cream she was producing, while his other hand kept her breast in a vice-like grip.
"You’re a goldmine, Emily," Kenta whispered, his voice dark and heavy. "Not just for the milk. This body... it was made to be used by me. To be bred by me."
"Yes! Please! Use me! Breed your cow!" Emily begged, her eyes rolling back in her head. She was lost in the fog of pleasure, her biology completely surrendered to his will.
Kenta continued the torture, rubbing and grinding, building the tension until the air in the barn felt thick enough to choke on. He felt the muscles of her thighs twitching, her pussy pulsing against him, desperate for the invasion she knew was coming. He pulled back slightly, looking down at the carnage of his work.
His cock was now completely drenched, glistening under the sunlight with a thick coating of her clear, sweet-smelling juices, mixed with the remnants of the milk that had splashed during their earlier session. He looked like a god of fertility, slick and shining.
He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear one last time. He pushed the head of his cock just a fraction of an inch against her entrance, testing the tight, hot ring of her muscle.
"It’s ready for work," Kenta whispered, his voice a promise of the coming storm.
"Ahhhhhhhhn~!"
Emily let out a long, high-pitched moan of pure, agonizing anticipation as she felt him stretch her, her body trembling on the verge of the first real harvest.