The Breastfeeding Heiress

Farm Life

Charlotte's first day on the farm started with the promise of new beginnings, but it quickly became clear that rural life was far from the fairy tale she'd envisioned.

She woke up with a groan, rubbing her aching breasts.

Charlotte sighed; she had forgotten to pack her pump.

As she stepped out of the barn, the crisp morning air bit at her skin.

She eyed the sprawling fields wearily, her hands already yearning for the soft fabrics of her gowns rather than the coarse gloves Jack had left outside her door.

Jack, watching from a distance, handed her a basket and gestured toward the vegetable patch.

"Start by weeding the carrots," he instructed. "Make sure you pull out the roots, not just the tops."

Charlotte glanced at the dense tangle of weeds and carrots.

"How exactly do I—"

"Just dig in," Jack replied with a grunt, already turning back to his own tasks. He did not want to be in her presence any longer. The dress she wore, though modest for a princess, had far too much of a cleavage for his liking.

Already, by the way she moved as she reached for the basket, her breasts swayed, teasing him.

Charlotte hesitated, then crouched beside the patch. The dirt was cold and gritty, slipping through her fingers.

She grimaced, fighting the urge to wipe her hands on her dress.

Every tug and pull was a battle against her own discomfort.

Her fingers were soon smeared with soil, and the sweat on her brow was not from exertion but frustration.

By midday, Jack found her resting on a nearby stump, her face flushed and her hands dirty.

His eyes zeroed in on her large breasts, which rose and fell as she took deep breaths.

"How's it going?" He asked, his tone more curious than mocking.

Charlotte looked up at him, her eyes weary.

"I'm trying, but this is harder than it looks."

Jack sighed, shaking his head. "You're not going to make it if you can't handle the basics. We've got a lot of work to do."

"I understand," she said, though her voice was tinged with frustration. "I'm just not used to... getting dirty."

Jack's gaze softened slightly, but he remained firm.

"Well, if you're staying for a month, you'd better get used to it."

Throughout the day, Charlotte noticed Jack glancing frequently at his watch and disappearing into his cabin for brief periods.

Each time he left, his expression was unreadable.

Anxiety gnawed at her.

Had he changed his mind? Was he planning to turn her in now that he saw how useless she was?

The fear of being taken home so soon while her arranged fiance was still there was almost unbearable.

She knew his family would only stay a week or two to wait for her. They had a kingdom to run as well. She just had to manage until then.

As the sun began to set, Charlotte decided to find out the truth.

She followed Jack at a discreet distance, her heart pounding with every step.

When Jack turned into the barn instead of his cabin, she frowned.

He was just attending to his tasks.

But still, for some reason, she crept closer, her curiosity overcoming her fear.

Inside the barn, Jack moved quietly. The soft clinking of metal and the faint sound of a cow's lowing reached Charlotte's ears.

She peered through a crack in the barn wall, her breath catching as she saw Jack approach a cow with a small cup in hand.

Jack deftly maneuvered under the cow; his movements were practiced and efficient.

He then carefully milked the cow, the stream of white liquid flowing into the cup.

Charlotte's eyes widened, her heart fluttering unexpectedly.

The sight of Jack's strong hands working the cows tits with such care stirred something deep within her. She couldn't quite place the feeling—an odd mixture of fascination and arousal.

He then poured the milk into a glass bottle, sealed it, and walked away with it.

Charlotte watched from the shadows as Jack entered his cabin, the door closing behind him with a faint click.

Was that milk... for himself?

Did he randomly crave to drink it throughout the day?

Her mind swirled with conflicting emotions—fear, curiosity, and an inexplicable desire.

She hesitated for a moment before she decided to retreat to her own quarters.

As she lay in bed later that night, she replayed the images of Jack's hands working with the cow, which made a strange flutter in her chest.

She groaned as she touched her aching breasts, an idea suddenly popping into her mind.

She looked around the clutter in the corner and smirked when she saw a cup.

Charlotte then undressed herself and placed the cup beneath her breast.

She closed her eyes and tugged, just as Jack had milked the cow.

Liquid pours down into the cup.

Charlotte's heart fluttered at the feeling of her own wetness trickling down her inner thighs, a new wave of excitement washing over her as she slowly started to milk her aching nipple into the cup.

The cool night air made goosebumps rise on her skin, and the sound of her own breathing filled the quiet room.

She guided her free hand down to her pussy and felt a tingle in her clit as she rubbed it with one finger.

She gasped at the idea of Jack's rough hands doing what she was doing to herself.

Her fingers danced between her folds, finding how wet and swollen she was becoming the more she milked herself.

As she rubbed herself slowly, gasping softly at each touch, she thought about how Jack must have drank the milk after. How he must have gulped it down and then wiped the white stain off his lips.

"Oh!" Charlotte moaned softly.

Without realizing it, her other breast was now standing tall and hard under her palm.

She leaned back against the headboard with a moan, imagining him watching her milk herself. Or even better, she imagined him milking her as if he had the cow.

Charlotte's hips rocked forward slightly to grind against the bedding beneath her; it felt rough on sensitive skin but added to her pleasure building within. "Mmm!"

Her fingers moved faster on her nipples, tugging and mimicking his own movements around the cow's teat earlier that day.

"Ohhh!" Charlotte moaned as she squirted onto the sheets.

At the same time, her breasts both shot out a heavy flow of liquid, making a mess all over.

Charlotte gasped, leaning against the headboard for support.

"Fuck," she breathed out as she closed her eyes in bliss.

That had been amazing.