01 Jan

eight maids a-milking – the eighth day of christmas

The eighth in an unrelated series of stories, inspired by the 12 days of Christmas; Day 8: Eight Maids A-Milking

On the eigth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, eight maids a-milking

We were out for our new year’s day walk

She held my hand as walked away from our house, down the road and over the bridge.  We were walking away from the built up area, and after 10 minutes or so, we were on the edge of the suburbs; to our left was an expanse of farm land, and to our right the last few warehouses of an industrial estate.


To my surprise, my true love led me into the industrial estate, to an anonymous small unit with a faded green shutter.  She knocked, and after a short wait, a door in the shutter creaked open.  We walked in.


The warehouse was brightly lit, clean in both appearance and décor. The floor comprised of galvanised steel sheets, bolted to the floor, the walls tiled to head height above which was painted white.


Around the room were various work stations marked by highly polished aluminium or steel cabinets.  There were several large bulky shapes covered in sheets.  Whatever it was they did in this warehouse, I guess they’d shut down for Christmas & the New Year.


My true love was leading me towards the back of the unit, following a tall grey-haired gentleman, whom I had hitherto only seen the back of – skinny leg jeans, a gabardine top and black boots.


Reaching the back of the unit, the gentleman stopped in front of a broad sheet-covered bulk. “This is the one you wanted” he said to my true love as he reached to tug the sheet off.

The sheet fell to the floor to reveal a birthing chair; mostly steel in material.  The man spreads wide the stirrups to reveal a grey vinyl covered horseshoe shaped seat.  Behind the chair on the wall are a variety of floggers, whips, crops, restraints and all manner of similar kit and equipment.  The metal trolley here was much like a filing cabinet, only highly polished steel or aluminium; with the adornments of the wall, I was both curious and cautious about what might be inside.


“Strip” she instructed

“b..b..but what are you doing?” I nervously replied.

“Just strip” her reply.

I hesitantly took my clothes off, I’m not overly body confident, and the grey-haired gentleman watching was distracting a little.  I think my true love must have realised this as she spoke to him “you can leave us now, Graham”.


With Graham gone, I relaxed a bit more, and was happy to strip to my pants.  “What have you got planned?” I asked.


“Nothing we’ve not already discussed.  Now, strip” she pointed at my pants.


I pulled down my pants, to my surprise revealing a semi excited penis.  I slid my pants down my legs, and kicked them off.  Bending over to pick them up to fold them.


“Right”, she said “get your ass in that chair”.


“What’s going on?” I enquired again.

“Just do it…” she insisted.


I trust my true love, and we’d been talking in the Twixtmas period about expanding our sexual interests, including bondage activities, we’d even agreed on a safe word – I just hadn’t expected anything so serious this soon.


I climbed into the chair, feeling almost like a schoolboy sat in the big chairs outside headmistress office, only without any clothes on.  My legs dangled freely from the seat, hovering a couple of inches above the floor.  The stirrups were spread wide on either side of me.  My hands in my lap, I looked inquisitively at my true love.


“Right” she says, stepping towards me.  “I want you to sit back in that chair, with your bum over the horseshoe.”

As I shuffle back, she steps to the stirrups and moves them inward, before lifting first one leg and then the other into those stirrups. Starting at my ankles, she fastens buckles around all four limbs. Steel shackles with a sumptuous leather lining now hold me to the chair, legs raised but not uncomfortable.


She bends to the bottom of the chair, I strain to see what she’s doing, but can’t see, suddenly the chair rocks back, and comes to an abrupt stop with a clang.


I peer between my legs, and see my true love stand back up.  She pushes back the stirrups, my legs high and wide above me.


Feeling rather vulnerable now, I wriggle against the shackles.  The soft leather of the lining cushions my wrists, but they are firmly restrained.  That leather at great odds with the cold metal of the chair on my back and the stiff vinyl of the seat.


My true love briefly disappears from view, returning moments later, I hear the unmistakable sound of snapping rubber, and guess she’s putting a glove on.  A few seconds pass before I feel her hand on my balls which are dangling through the hole in the vinyl seat.

She cups and lifts them up.  I feel her other hand start to touch between my butt cheeks.  It feels cold.  And wet.  I realise she’s rubbing lubricant into me.  Massaging it between my bum cheeks, over my anus, and down to my perineum.  When she is done she lets my balls flop down.


Again she disappears from sight.  This time she is gone longer, and I begin to get really nervous that she’s gone to fetch the tall grey-haired fellow.  Fortunately she returns alone, save for a stool which she is dragging rather noisily over the steel sheet flooring.

The noise ceases as she places the stool between my legs.  She sits, and I feel her hand on the inside of my leg.


Her other hand, the gloved one is prodding at my bum.

She is rubbing the lube further into my anus, gradually slipping her finger between my tight muscle, and with an unexpected suddenness, her finger is inside me.  I gasp, it’s not uncomfortable, and I try to relax into it.  Taking deep breaths, the tenseness in my legs which had been pushing against the leg shackles begins to ease.

She gently inserts her finger and withdraws several times, the repeated feeling of my anus being penetrated actually rather pleasant.  This really helps me to relax, and before long I’m enjoying the sensation.


My true love, sensing I am relaxed, ups the ante a little by rotating her finger inside me.  This also feels amazingly good; I realise that my breathing has turned to a gentle pant.

Suddenly my relaxation disappears as an urge to pee takes me by surprise; my groin raising up in alarm.

“Calm down, it’s just your prostate” comes my true love’s voice.


My prostate located, she strokes it, gently to start, but getting firmer.  The feeling to pee changes, it becomes more urgent, but not urgent at the same time.  The pressure on my prostate radiating out and around my entire groin, the nerve ending buzzing with excitement.


The stimulation from my true love’s finger is creating a build of energy, her other hand, still on my leg, releasing that energy into waves of intense sensation.

I feel the heat moving from her finger through my balls and into my flaccid penis.  I’m shocked it’s not erect, the intensity of sensation is immense, and usually I’d be sporting a rod of rock with this much stimulation.  The heat moves along my cock, and then trickles out.


Feeling different to the usual sticky cum on my balls, the flow doesn’t relent, running out of my cock, over my balls to my crack, adding to the lube that my true love had applied.  She continued rubbing, almost beckoning my prostate, the oozing continued; a steady trickle of warm liquid, never ending.


The feeling was unusual; not an orgasm, but really intense and involving a lot more of my body that I’m used to.  What I had thought was urgency to pee was actually just my body learning a new type of sensation, one I’m happy to revel in and let my true love stroke my prostate.


I am shocked by the length of time that she continues for, and that I just continue to ooze this weird liquid.


My languid enjoyment is interrupted as my true love grabs my cock.  Still flaccid, she begins to caress and stroke it.  Gently gripping the shaft, she rubs her hand in short strokes.

My cock responds by becoming semi-erect, with her finger still pressing my prostate, she quickens the stroking.  The internal sensation changes to a more familiar one.  The pre-orgasm feelings battling with the prostate for my attention.  The overwhelming barrage of sensation dizzying in its multitude.


As my brain succumbs to the volume of information being sent to it from my groin, so my true love extracts the orgasm she’s been building me up to.


The cum erupts from my cock; what had been a trickle of pre-cum turns into an angry jet of white fluid, spraying several feet into the air.  If it wasn’t for my restrained limbs, I may well have joined it as the pleasure wracks through my body, emanating simultaneously from my prostate and my penis.  Every sinew flexing, every muscle twitching, the ecstasy envelopes my body as it raises from the chair, before slumping, exhausted but ecstatic.

On the Eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, Eight Maids A-Milking, Seven Swans A-Swimming, Six Geese A-Laying, Five Gold Rings, Four Colly Birds, Three French Hens, Two Turtle Doves & A Partridge in a Pear Tree

2 thoughts on “eight maids a-milking – the eighth day of christmas

  1. Wow! Holy cow! (ha Ha bad pun!) I feel very excited to try this on my man if it’s as pleasurable as you describe. Great story! I wonder if you will visit this unusual fetish venue again for more antics.

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