He sat in his opulent home stroking his brow thoughtfully. His stubbled chin betrayed the amount of time he had spent here, planning, thinking and preparing for his next move.
Finally, he stood. His naked form impressive in the half light of the pre-dawn hours, muscular thighs and toned stomach accentuated by the flickering candlelight. He paced up and down the room, his toes curling into the thick rug as he turned and walked in another direction. One hand tracing circles upon his lightly haired chest, the other still rubbing his temple.
He had been consumed by the desire to own a slave who he could turn into a human cow. He wanted to squeeze her and use her breasts as not only receptacles for whatever torture he could devise but also as udders. He wanted her degraded, cowbell round her neck as she knelt, feeling him manipulate her milk filled teats and forcing the white liquid out of them.
But how?
He had kept many women here over the years, some willingly and some not so but never had he been so fixated on one overriding need. He usually enjoyed all the horrors he could inflict upon them and he was sure he still would but this was the ultimate fantasy and though he knew he had the money to make it happen, he was still unsure whether it was worth the investment and how to go about acquiring such a girl.
Still pacing up and down he made the decision. He would not trust his usual sources, he would find the perfect milk-maid himself.
Reaching over to the beige sofa, he whipped up his black silk shirt and began to put it on. He felt the smooth, cool material flow over his arms, nibbles and abs and smiled grimly. It was as though this shirt was trying to douse the fire that was within him but he knew that within moments, it would be as hot as he was; an accomplice in what he was to do today.
He hastily located his jeans and began sliding them up his thighs. It was only then that he was made aware of the hard rod jutting out in front of him and upon seeing it; he knew he would need to do something about it. He needed a cool head to see this plan through.
Stepping out of his jeans, he flopped back into the deep seated sofa, watching his cock twitch as he changed position. He was sometimes a little aroused by his manhood but not for its own sake, more as a monument of man overpowering the weak woman. He knew he was very well endowed and that it hurt the little bitches he brought to his home as he entered them and he was glad.
Taking his cock firmly in his right hand, he groaned slightly as he moved the foreskin up and over the bulging helmet. It felt as though he had been hard for days – and perhaps he had – thinking and dreaming of his human cow. His mind turned to the plans for instruments of torture to use on their milk producing mountains and his stroke quickened. His hand became slick with pre-cum as he worked his rock hard cock with the deftness of practice. The veins on his shaft stood out, making his meat look all the more impressive. The image of a bound slave-cow dripping from the nipples as he wanked in her face sent him over the edge. His groans filled the large room as he moved his hand up and down, firmly pumping all of his precious seed out and over his shirt and fingers.
He sat panting for a while, bathing in the glow of orgasm. His hand still on his cock, he looked at the sticky strands in wonder... Never before had any fantasy constantly caused him to shoot so much semen and he liked it. It made his plans all the more worthwhile.
He removed his shirt and walked swiftly through the house to a downstairs bathroom to take a shower. It was huge – as were most of the rooms in his home – and had a custom made bath that accommodated his 6 foot 4 frame easily, allowing him to lie down fully and immerse himself in the soothing water.
Turning to his right, there was a luxurious shower fitted into the marble wall and he stepped into it, relishing the splash of cool water on his hot body, rinsing the remnants of cum from his fingers and cleaning himself thoroughly.
Eventually, he stepped out and dried himself before striding naked through the house in pursuit of suitable clothing. He settled on another silken top, but this time in a pale blue which brought out the blue in his eyes and coupled it with dark trousers that accentuated the curve of his muscular arse.
Looking at his reflection in the mirror; he smiled. What milk titted wench could resist him now?
He grabbed his keys on the way out of the house and locked the door, his feet crunching on gravel as he made his way to his sports car. Getting in, he started the engine, put on his sunglasses and glanced at his face in the rear view mirror, smiling again as he saw his stubbled and strong jaw, straight white teeth and deceptively kindly face.
