Ask Clover if there's anything else she needs before I continue with the feeding rounds

Cowgirl Barn, Building Seven, Paradise Breeding Farm, Rural Montana, at 11:21 AM on Monday April 3rd, 2024 (Day 1 of 7)

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I'm still on my knees in Buttercup's stall, my shirt completely transparent and clinging to my skin, my face dripping with her release. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and look toward Clover's stall.

"Is there anything else you need before I continue with the feeding rounds?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

Clover's amber eyes darken with hunger. She steps closer to the bars of her stall, and I can see her massive cock is still fully erect, the thick shaft glistening with pre-cum that's been steadily leaking down the length.

"Actually, yes," she says, her voice dropping to that commanding register that makes my stomach flip. "After watching you eat Buttercup's pussy like that, getting your pretty face absolutely drenched... I need something from you before you walk out of here."

She wraps one large hand around her cock and strokes slowly, deliberately, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Come here," Clover orders. "Get on your knees right here, outside my stall."

My legs move before my brain fully processes the command. I crawl out of Buttercup's stall and position myself directly in front of Clover's, still on my knees in the hay.

"Open that pretty mouth," she continues, angling her cock through the bars. The thick head pushes between the metal slats, pointing directly at my face. "I want to feel those lips wrapped around my cock. You're going to suck me until I cum down your throat, and you're going to swallow every fucking drop. Then—and only then—can you finish your feeding rounds."

A bead of pre-cum wells at her tip and drips down, landing on my soaked shirt.

"This isn't optional, Cassandra," Clover adds, her voice firm but not cruel. "You made Buttercup cum. Now you make me cum. That's how this works. And if you do a good job—if you take my cock deep and let me use that throat properly—I'll be gentle with you tonight when I fuck your pussy. But if you half-ass it..." She grips the bars with her free hand, her bicep flexing. "...I'll make sure you can't walk tomorrow. Understand?"

Behind her, I can hear the other cowgirl futas shifting in their stalls, watching intently. Marigold—a redheaded futa in the stall across from Clover—has her own cock out, stroking it slowly.

"We're all watching, new girl," Marigold calls out. "Show us what that mouth can do."

Clover's cock throbs, another thick string of pre-cum dripping from the tip. The scent is overwhelming—musky, heavy, fertile. My mouth waters involuntarily.

"Open," Clover commands again, her thumb stroking along her shaft. "Now."