Dairy farmer in WoW ch 21

I woke up after one of the best sleeps I've had since arriving in this world. Finally resting in something resembling a bed was glorious; no more hard ground beneath me. In fact, it was so comfortable that getting up was the last thing I wanted to do.

Of course, being embraced by two beautiful women made it even more difficult to leave the bed. With a smirk, I gently grasped their buttocks, eliciting a pleasant moan and a groan from them. Alora simply nestled deeper into me, while Zola seemed to awaken because of my touch.

Although I would have loved nothing more than to luxuriate in bed with them all day, there were tasks to attend to and cows to milk. Perhaps one day, when I have grown powerful enough, I will be able to spend an entire day in bed, frolicking with women. Sadly, that day is not today.

Ignoring Alora's needy whine, I reluctantly freed myself from their embrace and stood up. Zola blinked her eyes, slowly waking up, while Alora reached out for me, moving even closer to Zola.

The moment she made contact, Alora snuggled and entwined herself with Zola, drawing a squawk from her as Alora wrapped her arms and legs around her, returning to sleep.

Amusedly observing from the side, I realized I should have them get up, but I was too entertained watching Zola attempt to break free from Alora, who by this point must have been pretending to sleep.

"Alora!" Zola called out before looking to me for help. I simply chuckled before walking out.

As I stepped outside, the first thing I noticed was the makeshift barn I had constructed. Standing there for a moment, my good mood slowly evaporated as thoughts of Malora crossed my mind once more. Shaking my head, I put on a stern expression before heading towards the barn.

~~~~

Upon entering, the first thing that struck me was the sight of most women still asleep, with only the orc, Shayla, and Malora awake. Shayla and Malora exchanging fierce glares, yet despite Malora being ungagged, she remained silent, refraining from provoking Shayla further.

As I approached, their attention shifted towards me; the orc and Shayla's gazes were predictably filled with anger, while Malora's held a glimmer of hope. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but she quickly thought better of it and instead looked at me with pleading eyes.

Disregarding Malora's silent plea, I focused on the orc woman, who was positioned first in line. Seeing me drawing near, she started to struggle and attempt to break free, but her efforts were futile against the reinforced stockades. With most of their strength devoted to producing milk, none of the women had the power to escape.

I raised a part of the ground in front of her, allowing me to sit comfortably without needing to kneel or crouch. Running my hands over her udders, I could feel their softness and the weight of the milk within.

Aware of the discomfort caused by their fullness, I massaged her udders briefly, pondering the frequency of milking sessions. Perhaps three times a day would be better? I will need to test it.

Taking hold of her nipples, I applied gentle pressure, coaxing the milk to flow into the awaiting container. With each squeeze, the bounty of her breasts filled the vessel with its fel milk.

As her udders began to empty, I exerted a bit more pressure to extract the last remnants of milk. Leaning forward, I took each nipple into my mouth, ensuring no drop was wasted as I cleaned them thoroughly.

Afterward, I proceeded to the troll who remained asleep. As I began to milk her breasts, groggily her eyes opened. She jerked slightly upon seeing me, likely startled by the proximity, and gazed at me in confusion. When she realized what I was doing, she attempted to look down but found herself unable to see anything.

Briefly, she struggled to move away, only to quickly realize that she remained tightly bound and had no hope of freeing herself anytime soon. With a resigned sigh, she sagged and simply closed her eyes.

After finishing with her, I moved on to the Tauren, which is when both Alora and Zola walked in. "Ah, perfect timing. I've finished with the orc and troll. I want to see if the washing system I made will work. So, after milking yourselves, try it out," I said.

"Okay, master," Alora chirped with a smile before smirking deviously and grabbing Zola's udders from behind. "I'll milk you if you milk me," she purred into Zola's ear, causing her to blush for a moment.

"Alora!" Zola called out scandalized, yet she bit her lip and nodded after a moment. Ignoring the two for a moment, I returned my attention to the Tauren and instantly spotted a problem. If I attempted to milk her as I had both the orc and troll, she would attack me with her horns.

With that in mind, I raised her stockade higher and placed my container on top of a pillar of earth. Now, I was able to milk her without risking myself, so I prepared to do so.

The first time I milked her, I didn’t pay attention, but now I paid more attention. All of her breasts, until the very areola, were covered in fur. Then again, I suppose that makes sense, and grasping her udders, I could tell that it was soft fur.

Still, as expected, her skin was similar to an animal's, so even her breasts, which are mostly fat, took a bit of strength to squeeze. They were not as hard as the orc's were at the start; simply, her skin was tougher.

Honestly, Tauren as a species did not entirely make sense since, for all intents and purposes, they are minotaurs, which means they should be a crossbreed between humans or perhaps Vrykul and a cow or bull.

Then again, this is a world of fantasy, and such things as evolution are more of a suggestion than a rule.

With that train of thought over, I began to extract her milk, making the soft, green-tinted liquid flow from her udders. Unlike the harsh and dark green of fel, her milk was more the color of the green grass of Mulgore.

She continued to shuffle restlessly, attempting to free her udders from my grasp. I wondered if the girls faced similar challenges with her. No doubt they did, given the way she harshly pumped air out of her nostrils, displaying her clear displeasure at being handled in such a manner.

I glanced up with exasperation. "Do you mind? I'm trying to work here. You can huff and puff all you want, but it won't change a thing." My words didn't calm her; if anything, they seemed to exacerbate her agitation. To be honest, telling a woman to calm down has never worked, so I don't know what I expected.

The thought of slapping her udders crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. Her tough skin would likely cause more pain to my palm than I could inflict on her. With a sigh of annoyance, thoroughly fed up with her struggling, I restrained her with chains to keep her still and finished milking her.

I resolved to discipline her later, though the prospect was unappealing, especially since I already had another cow to reprimand. Ugh, what a hassle.

The next was the naga, and I quickly realized a problem: I had forgotten that nagas were aquatic beings. Without hesitation, I allowed water to flow over her. It was a foolish oversight on my part; how could I forget such a crucial detail? Nagas, although capable of surviving above water, still needed to immerse themselves in it periodically.

The naga looked at me, her eyes still holding traces of anger, but exhaustion weighed heavily upon her. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the soothing sensation of water cascading over her form. Fortunately, I had the foresight to install a drainage system beneath each of the cows, ensuring that the water would not overfill the area.

Deciding to bypass her for the moment, I turned my attention to the centaur who was simply observing me. Even as I began to massage her udders and initiate the milking process, she remained passive. It struck me as peculiar. Weren't centaurs on Kalimdor reputed to be filled with aggression? As far as I knew, only those on Dragon Isles were less savage.

Nevertheless, I didn't mind her more accommodating demeanor. My hands were already occupied with the Tauren, and the Naga would require some adjustment as well. An aquarium, perhaps? But how would I produce the necessary glass for such a project? While I understood the basics of glassmaking, simply melting sand with lava seemed unlikely to yield the results I desired.

Could I shape it further with Arcane magic? Unfortunately, that wasn't a skill I possessed. Yet another problem to contend with.

Lost in these ruminations, I found that I had finished milking the centauress. Unable to resist temptation, I took her nipples into my mouth and gave them a firm suck, savoring the rejuvenating nature magic milk she provided.

As I withdrew, I noticed a flush spread across her face, and her breathing had become slightly labored. Upon catching her gaze, she quickly averted her eyes, clearly embarrassed. Hoh? What's this? Could it be?

Regrettably, the harpy greeted me with the same fervor as the others, her feathers ruffling as she struggled against the bindings, shooting me murderous glares. Lovely.

Drawing closer, I swiftly bound her legs to preempt any mischief; I had no desire to contend with those formidable claws. Predictably, this only stoked her ire further, heh.

"Alright, alright. I understand your agitation. Let me relieve your discomfort by milking your udders," I sighed, exasperation evident in my voice as I settled down, preparing for the task at hand. Heh, nothing like adding fuel to the fire. For a moment, she froze, seemingly incredulous at my words, before resuming her struggles.

Restraining her as I had done with the tauren, I grasped her fleshy globes. Given that most of her physique resembled that of a human or elven female, there was nothing peculiar about her breasts.

Except for the fact that, as an avian creature, she shouldn't possess mammalian body parts. Nope, I'm not even going there.

Focusing on the task, I began milking her, only to notice something peculiar: the liquid emanating from her breasts bore no resemblance to that of the other girls. It appeared wispy, almost ethereal, more akin to a spiritual essence than a tangible fluid. Even as it filled the container, it defied the characteristics of a liquid.

After finishing milking her, I glanced at the shop and inspected the milk. To my surprise, I had received a notification:

Elemental Air milk acquired

Huh, that's interesting. Then again, it does make sense since harpies are wind users and they come from or were blessed by Aviana if I remember correctly. In any case, I don’t think it’s terribly important for now; it's just something to keep in mind.

When I approached Shayla, her glare was so intense that if she had laser eyes, I'd be toast. Thank goodness for the gag; otherwise, she'd be screaming and cursing up a storm.

But now seemed as good a time as any. As I sat and grasped her udders, I let my thoughts wander.

As far as I knew, she was the reason the goblins had gotten their hands on such high-quality specimens, which meant those little blighters had crossed me. That was a matter to deal with later.

One might suggest that the easiest way to find out why she did it would be to ungag her and ask, but I felt like that ship had sailed long ago. Instead, I turned my gaze toward Malora.

"Malora," I said, and her eyes shot up at my words as I gestured toward Shayla with my head. "In your opinion, why did she help the goblins and approach us?" Malora bit her lip in thought, and even Shayla seemed to focus on her.

"Shayla has always been arrogant and condescending, so she was no doubt after something," Malora said, some of her bias seeping through, though it was understandable. "She wouldn't work with goblins of all things unless it benefited her somehow."

"Perhaps she wanted to see what you would do with the women and try to gain something for herself in the process?" Malora finished, echoing some of my own thoughts.

As I glanced back at Shayla, it was evident that some of her initial anger had dissipated, leaving behind a simmering glare. She sat there silently as I finished milking her, her gaze fixed on me.

Carefully, I reached up and removed her gag, allowing her to move her jaw and lick her lips, though she refrained from any outburst.

"So, is Malora correct? Or were your intentions different?" I inquired after a moment.

"Release me, and I will tell you the truth," Shayla replied, her voice carrying a hint of intensity along with the unmistakable demand.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her response. "You knew the answer to that question even before you asked, didn't you?" I retorted. "Even if I were to comply and you somehow escaped, it would only lead to dire consequences for you. This isn't a threat; it's the truth. Your magic is out of your reach, and your breasts will continue to fill with milk, and you won’t be able to express it youself. I don't need to elaborate on what will happen if the milk accumulates excessively in your breasts," I concluded, raising an eyebrow in emphasis.

Shayla grimaced, undoubtedly replaying the scenario in her mind. Still, I could see a measure of doubt lingering in her eyes. "Malora used her power," she said triumphantly, as if she had seen through my deception, causing me to roll my eyes once again. "Because I allowed it," I retorted, effectively taking the wind out of her sails.

"So, once again, why did you do what you did?" I redirected the conversation back on track, fully aware of the other women's attentive gazes.

Shayla sneered. "Fine. Honestly, the first time I saw you two, I was merely intending to taunt miss udders here," she motioned dismissively towards Malora, "but then I overheard your conversation with that goblin and grew intrigued. So, yes, I assisted the little beasts in catching the others, though those dim-witted creatures never suspected a thing, ha!

"Then, back at camp, I witnessed you milking them, and immediately sensed the magic in that milk. I intended to approach you and learn your method, which is when the foolish slut attacked me," she snarled, casting a venomous glance at Malora.

Ignoring the bickering between the two, I sat back to ponder her words. Huh, so the goblins did not sell me out after all; good to know. However, the rest of her statement drew a grimace from me. I was woefully unprepared to detect anyone spying on me.

A nagging, paranoid voice rose up – what if I am being spied upon right now? I shook my head at that, knowing it was best not to indulge in such thoughts; that path led only to madness. Still, this presented another problem for me, one I was uncertain how to tackle.

"Who's the cow now, you narcissistic slut?" Malora's snarl resonated through the room, snapping my attention back to the unfolding drama. Before Shayla could volley a retort, I interjected. "Enough. Save your pointless bickering for another time." My gaze turned towards Malora. "You're both cows." My words landed like a slap, causing her to flinch. "Don't forget, you forfeited the privilege of enjoying the freedoms I granted you." I swept my eyes over all the women.

"I own you. I am your master, and no matter how much you struggle, whine, beg, or threaten, it won't change. Not even my death will liberate you from this fate." I snorted at the thought. "In fact, my death will only exacerbate it; you'll become the property of those above me."

Gesturing towards Zola and Alora, who had been washing the orcess until now, I continued. "With me, obedience can earn you some freedoms." I motioned for Zola and Alora to approach.

As I made my point, Zola approached calmly, while Alora skipped towards me. They stood at my sides as I embraced them. "While you will always belong to me, that doesn't mean you have to be reduced to cattle. Your power is gone, and unless I milk you, agonizing death is what awaits. Obedience can regain some of the freedoms you've lost." I smiled at Alora, who beamed back at me before I pecked her on the mouth.

With a gentle slap on their backsides, I ushered them back to work and turned my attention to Malora. Taking a seat before her, I prepared to milk her. "Master—" "As I said, Malora. Obedience can earn back what you've lost, and you know why you lost it."

With that, I grasped the largest udders among my cows and began to milk my most milk-filled one.