A milking dungeon

Josh woke up with his head hanging down. He was naked and strapped to some sort of a wooden half-table in a dark room. Candlelight flickered in the corner of his eye.

His cock felt odd. It was touching plastic and weirdly engorged, almost as if it were in a stopped vacuum.

"I see you are awake," a strong woman's voice filtered through and he shook his head. A pair of thigh-high leather boots came into view, clinking on the stone floor.

"Hello," Josh whispered. His lips were dry.

"A talking man cow, my my," the voice spoke.

"Who are you?"

A horsecrop stung his shoulder, back, buttocks in quick succession.

"OW!"

"I am Madam Fletcher. You will obey me, he-cow," the woman said as she walked around Josh. She brushed his flesh with her finger. He caught a glimpse of silky smooth thigh in the candlelight. "I have uses for one such as you."