Prompt: I was having some thoughts last night and it will totally link in with No Nut November! I hope this makes sense! McCree groans deep in his chest as he rouses from his slumber, his slumped head rising from where he left it in sleep. In doing so, he jingles the heavy cowbell around his neck, the clanking sound lulling him back into a relaxed state.
His muscles flex in his stocks, the metal and soft fleece hugging him gently as he moves. You shake your head and do your daily checks: cuffs, chains, collar, ass plug, nipple clamps, cock ring, and of course, his nose ring. McCree roars and brays into the cool morning air, thrashing his head this way and that to find the source of the pain biting into his ass.
After those three, McCree is sobbing more than he is raging, his whipped ass glowing bright red and starting to bruise a little where you struck him. Sympathy wells up in you and you hang the whip back up, walking back around his bent over form to come to his horned head. Unfortunately, you have to do what is necessary in order to obtain a good yield come December. Tears stream down his face, soaking his beard and his fur and dripping onto your hand as you ease him back into a more comfortable position in the stall.
Beneath him, his cock jumps and drools into the container strapped around his waist and legs. A loud moo rips from his mouth as you start cleaning his teats gently.
His cock twitches and drools even more, growing and growing and feeling so hard that he thought it might snap in half if you touched it. The moment the machine starts to suck at his tits, McCree starts to wail and moo his head off. He trembles and arches his back, his hands twisting in the wooden stocks by his head as though he wanted to grope something. His knees shake and eventually buckle, sending his waist and hips back down onto the padded metal bars that keep him in a vulnerable position; ass up, head down. Gravity helps to milk his tits as much as the machine does, pulling at least a litre out of him while you do your other morning checks.
You hose him off and wipe him down, clearing out the mess in his stall while you wait for the machine to collect his milk. By the time his milk hits the mark on its bottle, McCree is almost wrung out and insane with lust, his eyes blown wide and his hair stuck to his face when you finally round around to his front to check on him. When you flick them and pinch to see a little bit more cream dribble out, McCree only moans softly and drops his head next to yours, his blunt horns gently pressing against the top of your head.
That makes him jump back upright with a loud scream of pleasure filled pain, his chest trembling when you nibble and suck at his tender nipple. Milk, soft and sweet and creamy, bursts on your tongue and you have to rip yourself away before you milk him beyond his capacity. Fuck, his milk tastes so damn good. Well, enough of his milking, you guess, setting the milk inside a refrigerated unit while you clear up the milking machine. While you do so, McCree whines at you pitifully, shooting you doe-like eyes when you turn around to look at him.
Oooh, how polite. How do you deserve a treat? He licks his lips and raises his head, the ring in his nose shifting as his tongue touches it. And tomorrow. And the day after. Please, boss, can I have a treat? If you wanted to. But you can fuck me with this cock. McCree wails and shakes his head; he wants to fuck you. HE wants to fuck you, not some fake cock that can barely stretch your walls. To ensure quality control, of course. In this instance, you slide the fake cock inside you with a relieved groan, rocking back onto it and feeling his huge balls bang against your thighs as you do so.
McCree rages and roars above you, his chest tapping against your back as he bucks into you with all the desperation of a cooped up male. He fucks you hard, as hard as the stocks will allow, his hips slamming against the frame as much as it smacks into your ass as he rams you with all his weight. As it is, the cock hits you in just the right spot and you moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he does all the work.
He huffs and brays and moos his heart out, gripping at the chains and the stocks to get better traction to fuck you harder, fuck you faster until the wet squelching of the dildo inside you is driving him as mad as the milking machine did.
He can feel your slick gushing onto his balls and his hips; he can feel you tightening around the dildo as he drives it hard. You merely laugh and rock yourself back on the dildo, flicking your clit and licking at his puffy tits until you cum with a cry, pushing yourself as far back as you can go so you can feel the cock jamming so deep into you that it hurts.
And yet, even with your pussy clamping down on the cock hard, McCree still fucks you hard and fast. Unyielding, unflinching, never-ending. With a satisfied sigh that stutters from his still frantic bucking, you rip yourself off the fake cock and roll out from under him quickly. Good thing too, because he launches himself as far forward as he can as though to sink his cock deep into you. Glad to know you still have it in you. You shake your head again and stumble into your pants, tidying yourself up and removing the harness to clean it and the cock.
You can handle it. McCree barely picks up his head to watch you leave, leash still hanging from his nose ring and dragging against the floor. Smack smack smack! Where is it?! What the hell is that? You eye it and grin evilly. But what if he had a smaller cock. See shes-claws-deep's whole Tumblr.