Halia’s facade had finally crumbled. Through all her time with her bovine benefactor, she had never felt the need to put on display the broken body that she had. But here they both are, outside Rhannah’s dairy with the cow only dressed in a hastily thrown robe and Halia, collapsed on the ground, prosthetic popped off. Not broken, but loose, apart, showing her incomplete self.
The final wall collapsed, and she, too, broke down.
Wailing and tears fill her existence. Part of her can almost hear what her old CO would be yelling at her for behaving this way, and that just serves to make the combat-hardened mare feel worse. The whole time the cow stands there, the bovine holds onto her outfit and watches the mare. Rhannah projects empathy, but does not get too close to the wounded warrior. She lets the horse let it out, until the frustrations, the despair, overwhelm her to the point of no longer caring to cry. Halia is at the point where she just sits there, gathering her breath, ready, perhaps, to listen.
“Why do you hurt yourself?” Rhannah asks. It’s a quick question and one that didn’t point to any particular instance.
“Everyone,” Halia begins, trembling, not caring to reattach her broken body, “everyone is just so, so fucking insensitive. They don’t get it. They don’t know what it’s like to be broken on the inside and on the outside.”
“They don’t?” Rhannah says.
“Yeah, they-”
“Good.”
“What…?” Halia stares up at Rhannah. Confused, off-guard,  her eyes wide, the shock of the reaction, so direct, and so unexpected, leaves her without much more to say.
Rhannah steps up, standing before Halia now, only a clenched hand keeping her robe together. “Good for them. They shouldn’t have to understand. People can’t know what they haven’t experienced. They can get out of bed and face the day. They don’t look to a blade to give them something to feel. They don’t starve themselves or try to fill a void with food or drink. They’re not aware of what it’s like to not be them because they don’t want to and have never had to consider it.”
Halia’s ears twitch, betraying her inner argument. Her eyes blink once, twice, three-four times, then her gaze lowers, her grip on the grass loosens. Her ears droop.
Rhannah kneels down, narrowing her own gaze and whispering, “Look at me.”
Halia does so.
“They should never have to understand what it’s like to go through what you’re going through. Still, under no circumstances do you have any right to condemn them for their naivety.”
“Y…Yes, “the horse blows her lips “You’re right,” Halia says. “You really know it all, don’t you?” she gives a soft, half-hearted chuckle, trying to diffuse the situation.
“No, for one, I don’t know how you’ve lived with this for so long.”
Halia’s attitude shifts and she shuffles to face the cow better. “I don’t exactly have a choice, do I? If I did, there really is only one other choice, isn’t there?”
Rhannah stands up again, hands now on her hips, robe draping gently apart, but she doesn’t care. “You’re being childish. You know that?” Halia snorts.
“Tch! As if,”
“No, really.” Rhannah continues, marching aside of her, crossing her arms over her chest. “How many times in basic training did you want to quit, but you didn’t? You didn’t step off that bus able to,” the cow gestures as she tries to come up with random examples off the top of her head, “Dodge bullets, traverse minefields, run an obstacle course in under ten seconds, and,  come up with a brilliant tactical plan, all before breakfast, did you?”
“No, of course not.”
She looks over her shoulder towards the pathetic horse. “So, why, then, are you quitting barely a day in? It makes no sense.”
“I- This isn’t how I’m supposed to be! I’m not how I’m supposed to be!” Halia says, grabbing onto her prosthesis, sliding it back into position, fumbling at the latches.
“Your military life is behind you. This,” Rhannah says, motioning towards Halia herself, stumbling up to her hooves, “is your life now. You can’t graduate from that.”
“Then,” Halia responds, fully standing eye-to-eye with the cow. “I’ll just live with it. That’s what you want? To keep going, to not commit suicide. Fine. I’ll keep this going, just for you.”
“About that,” Rhannah says, poking the horse on the chest. “Abusing pain meds and alcohol and getting into fights all the time is basically a form of suicide already. If you really want to keep going, you’re going to have to stop this destructive behavior.”
Halia rolls her eyes but doesn’t shift away from the cow’s touch.
“Oh, but you’re mistaken, boss,” she says. “My drinking is a celebration of my oh-so-glorious life. It gives me a respite, a way to feel alive.”
Rhannah closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I see… is that true?”
“Huh?”
“You want something to fill a void in your life? Then, it has to be constructive.”
“Oh, like more work with the milkmaids?”
“No, I’m not talking about that. But, I do have an idea, if you’re serious.”
Halia’s muzzle shifts a bit. She runs her fingers along it. “Fine, what’s the big idea, then?”
Hands-on her hips, Rhannah continues, the udder-exposed cow showing off her authority even in her compromised position. “Promise me something: If you ever feel the need to self-deprecate or self-destruct, you need to tell me ‘Forgive me Mistress, and then you will tell me what is on your mind. Am I clear?”
Halia scoffs, retreating back in her folded arm posture.
“If you don’t have those thoughts, then you won’t have to say anything, so what’s the harm?”
Halia shrugs, and then she relents. “Fine…”
“That being said,” Rhannah says, tilting her head back in an authoritative posture. “If you do have such thoughts, or, forbid it, you act out, then you need to be punished.”
Halia frowns, rubbing the back of her head. “I mean… I guess…?”
“No,” Rhannah says, stepping up, her fingers brushing along the horse’s shoulders. “‘Yes, Mistress.’”
“Uh, what? Come again? I don’t-“Rhannah stops her with a finger gently pressed to the mare’s lips.
“Come now, dear, you spent how many years telling your superiors’ Yes sir’? This shouldn’t feel that awkward for you.”
Halia stares straight into her boss’s eyes, seeing the seriousness in them, but also a deep caring and understanding. The horse huffs. She hems, she haws, but eventually, she curtly nods her head, “Yes, Mistress.”
Rhannah smiles and leans in, pressing a quick kiss upon the horse’s cheek. “Very good. Now, then, let’s go home, my pet.”
“Oh, yeah… no to that, ‘Mistress,” Halia says, but Rhannah notices that ghost of a smirk on the mare’s mouth.
— 
For a busy business bovine, days off are hard to come by. There’s almost always work to be done, or disagreements to sort out or papers to sign. So, Rhannah likes to enjoy a day sitting in her reading room, naturally lit by a sun gracing the fields of her land.
Halia, meanwhile, is working around the house, fixing up some things, painting other things, and putting away the last of the moving boxes. Slowly, but surely, this place is starting to become a home that the owner can be proud of--an owner who has her act together and doesn’t have to worry about being broken and…
Halia snorts, stomping the ground, stopping what she’s been doing.
“Something the matter?” Rhannah’s voice calls out from the reading room.
Halia closes her eyes and clenches and unclenches her fists. She blows the hot air through her teeth, but the wind rushes through the hollow of her muzzle, which only serves to reminder entirely of how broken she-
She let out a quick burst of frustration before she stomps into the room, staring down at the cow sitting on the chair, one leg crossed over the other.
Rhannah turns her page, humming delicately to herself, pretending she hasn’t heard the horse’s arrival.
“Rhannah…” Halia speaks up.
The cow doesn’t respond, just drawing her finger over the page.
Sighing, Halia rubs the back of her neck, trying to roll the tension out of it. “Mistress…”
“Mistress, what?” Rhannah says, placing her bookmark in her book and closing the page. She puts it on the side and then folds her fingers together, placing her hands upon her lap.
Halia slumps her shoulders. “Mistress, I’m… I’m sorry…”
“There you go,” Rhannah says, a twinkle in her eye. “You mustn’t have those bad thoughts. Thank you for being such a good horsey.”
Halia’s cheeks burn. “I… I guess I’ll get back to it, then,” she says, beginning her turn.
Rhannah tuts, unfolding her leg and then standing up. “Now, where do you think you’re going?” she asks, placing her hands upon Halia’s shoulders.
“I… I was going to paint the living room,” Halia says. “I found a color that really works, and-”
Rhannah turns her around, looking Halia deep into the eyes, and states. “You apologized, but what’s next?”
Halia frowns, tensing up. Rhannah’s fingers squeeze upon tense muscles.
“I… I really appreciate…” Halia begins, closing her eyes, a shudder coursing through her.
“Yes?” Rhannah whispers, walking up behind her, whispering into the horse’s flicking ear.
“I really appreciate… being able… to organize your house.”
Rhannah squeezes Halia’s shoulders. “Hm?”
“O-our house.” Halia continues. “And, I appreciate it if…”
“Yes…”
“If you gave me space.”
Rhannah instantly lets go and steps back, sitting gracefully back into her chair. “There you go. But, that’s not what I had in mind when I said to name two things you appreciate.”
“R… right…” Halia says, feeling awkward standing there, all of a sudden.
“Please,” Rhannah says, tapping her hoof upon the floor. “Sit and think about it.”
Halia sighs and lowers herself down, sitting criss-cross with her hands resting upon her knees. “This what you want?”
Rhannah leans in, resting her cheek upon her palm, with her other palm supporting her elbow. “It’s not really about what I want. It’s about what you need, and you need to appreciate things about yourself, Halia. If you can’t do that, then you remember what happens next.”
The sing-song in her voice makes Halia’s heart race. But is it in stress? In panic? No, not really. This is new territory for her, this strange relationship. She swallows, but her mouth is dry. “W-well,” Halia says, thinking about it. “What about how I’m still able to kick ass.”
“Oh, and you do!” Rhannah says, her voice alight with excitement. “You are a strong woman, Halia, despite your limitations and yes, even because of them.”
Halia nods. “Well, I mean, what else?” Her mind races, but this time, the voice in her head doesn’t think about all the things she’s done wrong. “I am thankful that I have the support I need here from you and…”
Pain throbs through her. She rubs at her knee. Rhannah frowns upon seeing it.
“Halia,” the cow’s voice penetrates through the fog of pain. Even as Rhannah speaks, Halia imagines herself hopping out and driving into town, emptying the pharmacy of all of its contents and- “Halia!”
“S… sorry, M… mistress,” she says, bowing her head lower. “It… it hurts.”
Rhannah hums upon hearing that. “Yes, it does, and I have no idea how that feels. But really, would you just give up if your opponent were beating on you with no end in sight? Or would you pick yourself back up and fight back?”
“I’d… I’d fight back!”
“Why?”
“Because, I can still kick ass!”
“Right!” Rhannah says. She picks herself up from the chair and sits down at Halia’s level, crossing her legs as well. “Now, then, the pain, the addiction, they are beating you down, but you can fight back, and you’re not alone in that fight!”
“I… I need a distraction and, I’m… I’m thankful you can give it to me!”
Rhannah smiles. She then hops up and holds her hand out. “Come on, then. Why don’t we get this painting done together? It’s about time I do some heavy lifting around here.
“S… sorry, mistress…” Halia says.”
“Hm…? About what?” There’s honesty in her voice this time.
“I just had another bad thought about myself.”
“What’s it this time, pet?”
Pushing herself up, Halia begins to head her way back to the living room. “It’s just that I thought there’s no way I deserve someone like you in my life.”
“I have to say, Halia, you really know how to make a house a home,” Rhannah says, sweeping her arms around in a grand gesture around the newly-finished room. “I knew you had it in you.”
“I mean, you helped me,” Haliah says, rubbing at the seem of her muzzle.
“Oh, hush,” Rhannah says, walking past the horse and towards the stairs. “It was a team effort in labor, but in design, this is all you. You’ve made quite the impression in our home, and I’m looking forward to it being a reminder for us for years to come.”
“Years…?” Halia’s voice trails as she stares at the room. She walks up towards the couch, sliding her fingers over the back of the seat.
The shower upstairs turns on, and Halia’s voice wafts down from above. “Get yourself cleaned up, alright? You deserve yourself a reward for all your hard work.”
Halia pulls her fingers away, bringing them close to her chest, but shakes her head and heads off towards the second bathroom, ready to clean herself off.
—
Halia leaves the shower with a fresh set of clothes, making some adjustments to her prostheses. Rhannah’s voice beckons her from the living room, and so, she heeds the call, only to pause, her mouth slack from the sight.
Rhannah sits on the couch in her usual cross-legged position, but this time, she is as naked as she is when she is at work, but not in that professional posture. No, she leans back, arms draped over the back, letting her breasts be the centerpiece of the display, while she squishes her udders under the gentle cross of one leg over the other. The smile she has curls at the corner of one lip, her eyes half-lidded. “Good evening, pet,” Halia says, pushing herself up, exposing the rest of herself for the horse. “It’s time for your reward. Strip.”
Halia’s nostrils flare with the intake of air, the mare’s mouth closing as she stares all over Rhannah D’Ayrie, from her hair to her derriere.
Rhannah furrows her brow, placing her knuckles upon her hips. “Did you hear me, pet? I said ‘stri-”
The next moment, Rhannah stares off to the side, her cheek upon the floor, her stomach, udders, and breasts pressed to the cold, hard wood. She takes a moment to regain her breath. Where had it gone? And where did that pain through her body come from? She tries to move her hands. They’re clamped together, and weight is on her, and breath, and a voice in her ear.
“Being your personal aid is a job,” Halia growls. “You’re my fucking boss, and I’m your employee.”
Halia’s grip on Rhannah’s wrists tighten. Her knee presses into the cow’s back. “I will not be treated like a piece of meat in the bedroom. Do you understand?” Her voice gets higher at that last one, barking that order at the cow.
“I… I…”
“I said, ‘Do you understand!” This command comes louder.
“Ma’am, yes, Ma’am!” Rhannah lulls.
Halia nods, her grip loosening. When Rhannah whines at the gesture, the horse frowns.
“Y… you know…” Rhannah says, looking over towards the horse from the corner of her eye. “You’re pretty good at taking charge in the bedroom. I think I might be getting turned on.”
Halia stumbles away from Rhannah, scrambling to her hooves. “Huh? Wait, what? I…”
Rhannah groans, pushing herself up, rubbing her back a little. She arches, a crack, and a sigh following soon after. “Well, then, if you have no interest in that, I understand.” She returns to a standing position, her hands behind her back, facing away from the horse as her tail swishes back and forth. “I suppose you have been submissive this entire time. It’s my mistake to think you’d take such a direct order in matters of intimacy. Very well, I shall be much more gentle in my requests of you.”
“Hey, now you listen here. I’m not going to sit back and make you objectify me,” Halia says, stomping up to the cow, pressing a finger to her chest.
Rhannah bites her lip, nodding with a quick “mm-hm!”
“I say how far I can go in things.”
“R… right.” Rhannah says, removing one hand from behind her back and caressing the horse’s wrist.
“And… you can’t just… spring this on me without warning.”
“I apologize,” Rhannah says, placing a hand upon her own chest. “We shall establish rules and boundaries together. That way, any surprise shall be a pleasant one from now on. Is that an amicable solution to you?”
Halia nods, her eyes flicking down every so often back to that view she dares to stare.
“If you’d prefer to service me with your clothes on, that’s quite fine for you.”
Rhannah snorts at that, her glance locking back to Rhannah’s.
The cow’s tongue peeks out from between her lips. The pause lasts. She then continues. “Or, I wouldn’t mind if you vented on me a bit. How long has it been, Halia?” She reaches up, her hand upon the horse’s cheek. “How long has it been since you’ve been close to someone who wants to make you feel happy, and someone who can match your speed and your desires?”
Halia grasps the wrist, pulling it away from her face. She leans in, hot breath blasting the cow’s face. “You have no fucking idea how far my desires go, ‘mistress Rhannah. You think you’re ready for that shit?”
Rhannah arches her back again, rubbing it gently. “Well, for one thing, I don’t very much oppose to you treating me like your object, so, play away.”
The reaction that Rhannah gave Halia wasn’t quite what the mare was expecting. Neither was Halia expecting her own response to the situation. Could she have foreseen herself leaning in and whispering into the bovine ear the sweet poisoned word of “no.”
Could she have envisioned the cow’s moo being so intoxicating? Could she have seen herself clasping the woman’s hand and leading her up to the bedroom, discarding garments along the way in a mad dash to find a place of comfort?
No, she could have thought of any of that.
Halia had her suspicions that Rhannah wanted her in bed since the moment they met. The cow always dripped of raw sensual energy. Halia had seen her naked before, of course. With the horse laying half-naked on the bed and seeing the cow remove the last of the horse’s clothing, tits, and udders and shaggy coat on display, it was completely different. There, it was business, here it is all for pleasure.
Halia snorts, and from her lips, she ushers a command. Rhannah agrees and climbs onto the bed on top of the horse. At the behest of the equine, her mouth and her tongue grace her body. Fingers drag down over her muscled form, enjoying her, worshiping her.
Halia’s breaths come out with quick huffs, and between them, she asks the cow if everything is alright. The bovine beauty, of course, assures the mare, while placing sweet kisses upon her breast.
Halia grabs Rhannah’s head, pushing her up against her body. The cow’s face finds its way right between the horse’s core. With that tongue lapping away, giving her little sparks of attention, Halia cannot help but feel her boldness grow. She speaks to her-commands her and traps her in a leg lock. The cow’s squeal of delight between the horse’s thighs only urge Halia onward to continue issuing those commands, to order the cow to not stop until she comes.
It doesn’t matter precisely what words Halia says. They all spill out from her want. Every last breathy order and barking command erupts from her heart and out of her throat, saying what feels right at the moment. Judging by how the tongue inside her reacts, she can only guess that the words are working.
Object, indeed. Can an object be so spurred on by a simple jumble of nonsense words? Could a sexual slave be what the mare needs in the bedroom and out of it? No, this is something different. This is something better—magical, even, if she were to hazard that such a thing would exist.
Halia grits her teeth, her gasping, growling cry of pleasure, played up for her partner, escapes through her mouth, rattling the prosthetic. She doesn’t care about the discomfort right now. The satisfaction she feels is only part of this wondrous equation, and she lets out one more set of nonsense words. One last cry from deep within her sex-starved soul. It is something that means absolutely nothing. It resonates in such a way as to drain out all the energy from her being. But, it makes her heart race.
“M… Mistress!” she hisses. “I…. I love you!”
How much time passed since her orgasm? She doesn’t know. What she said cannot be unsaid, and yet the cow didn’t seem to have been phased by it at all. It was just a stupid set of words. She didn’t actually mean them. They were a script written out in some sappy romance novel. It’s the way things like this were supposed to go. At least, that’s what the authors of those works would have people believe. Even though she didn’t believe herself, and though the cow said nothing, she still lay there on the bed with her, the mare’s arm around the cow’s shoulder.
Rhannah curled up next to Halia, seeming to not need to come to orgasm herself in the exchange. Halia is afraid to ask her. She doesn’t want to open up that conversation. “Is there anything I can do for you?” or “What do you wish?” Those questions might lead to something else—might lead to the dreaded reciprocation. And then, what would happen? What would they become? Is there a “they”?
The sex… was great. Oh, it was beautiful beyond words. And the lead up to it, like it was some kind of conclusion. Like this is the end of their story. How ridiculous. They’d have work tomorrow. Life goes on. The storybook doesn’t close, and so much uncertainty on what the next page will hold will always be there. There’s the next mission. There’s the following command, whether she’s giving it or Rhannah is.
The stirring of the spooning bovine snaps her out of her thoughts. However,  the anxiety still buzzes in the sides of her brain.
“Mmm… you’re so tense,” Rhannah says, her hands finding new ways to stimulate Halia even when they are just laying there.
“I… I’m sorry, M… mistress. The bad thoughts, they’re-”
“I know,” Rhannah says, placing a kiss upon the horse’s shoulder. She snuggles up against Halia, just being there for her.
Halia pulls Rhannah in closer, being that strong woman she knows she can be, turning to face her as the warmth of their naked bodies comfort each other. She looks to Rhannah in the eyes, and Rhannah looks back. Her throat is so dry. “Mistress, about what I said, I-”
Rhannah kisses Halia, and Halia’s tensions disappeared. She couldn’t feel it. Of course, she couldn’t, not like she should, but… it still feels real, even if it is only the sight, the sound. She opens her mouth, and soon, it’s also the taste.
So many things are unreal to her. So many things a fog, a jumbled mess. She knows this. She thinks this even now, but damn it all, if she won’t push those ideas to the side, letting them yammer on just so she can take what little enjoyment she can out of this moment.
It may not be the end, or it may be. Who the fuck cares right now? It’s real, whatever “real” is, and she’ll take it and cherish it.
And cherish… Rhannah.
Egg-and-spinach omelet. How can Halia screw something as simple as that up? No, the question now is whether she can make it something special. It has to be special… or wait, does it have to be? She props her phone up against the wall, letting the cooking show play over and over again, the screen caking with food particles all while the horse makes sure if she put in just the right amount of spices. Were these spices right? Rhannah had them ordered, but it didn’t mean the the horse’s boss really wanted them in everything, right?
Then there’s the French press. It’s a pinch of salt and four scoops of coffee? Or was it three? 16 ounces? 8? So many numbers and so many sources say different things.
Halia snorts and claps her hoof against the tiled floor.
Did last night really happen? Of course, it did. It was hot. Of course, she got up out of bed that morning, seeing the cow still laying there, her hair all messed up, curled up, and so delicate, despite being such a strong, confident woman.  Halia can’t wrap her mind around how this businesswoman would get on her knees so quickly and just…
She shudders, and a pop and sizzle bring her back to the skillet.
A yawn breaks her attention back up from the salvaging of the eggs. There is Rhannah, draped in a robe, walking up and sniffing the air. “Ah, well, isn’t this a nice surprise. I didn’t even have to tell you to make something today. I was going to get you a nice treat.”
“Ah, well, I mean, this is my job and all, and…”
Rhannah approaches Halia, hands upon her hips, her robes dangling dangerously off of her shoulders. “Now, now, let’s not talk like that. I want to know what you’re feeling right now. You’re alright, right?”
“Uh, yeah?” Halia says, plating the omelette. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because what we did last night wasn’t exactly typical, and I just want to make sure I wasn’t overstepping anywhere.”
Halia snorts. “Oh, no, ma’am. Everything was perfect. A fucking fairy tale dream come true. Top it off with “they all lived happily ever after and call life done. Let me the coffee.” She walks past Rhannah, but Rhannah holds her hand out, not touching the horse.
Halia stops, looking to the extended hand. Her hands tremble, and her mouth gets dry.
Somewhere along the tumble of emotions and actions, the plate was safely deposited upon the counter. The cow finds herself up against the wall. Even as they embrace and they kiss, and they breathe and moan and writhe.
Their mouths part, and Halia stares at the half-lidded eyes of the beautiful bovine in front of her. The horse runs fingers over Rhannah’s cheek and presses her forehead against Rhannah’s.
“I can go to work,” Halia says. She rolls her shoulders, and she nods. She grabs the cow by the small of her back, dipping down and locking lips with her again in some grandiose gesture. Rhannah holds onto her, giggling and feigning a swoon before Halia directs her over towards her seat. “Now, mistress,” Halia says, only half-sarcastically at it this time, “You have breakfast ready for you.”
“I certainly hope you aren’t neglecting yourself,” Rhannah says. “A happy pet brings a happy mistress.” With that, she takes her first bite.
“Mmm…” is Rhannah moaning at the delicacy she’s consuming, or planning something mischievous and lewd for the day ahead? “As for work, why don’t we make things more interesting?”
Halia turns, pouring the coffee into the mug with a stare partially that of “don’t you dare” and with a smidge of “Oh, please, tell me more!”
Rhannah takes another slow, laborious bite from her omelet and chews, letting Halia stand there a minute. “I’ll assign you a series of challenges throughout your shift. Complete them, and you’ll be rewarded with additional favors tonight. Fail to complete a task, and you will owe me a favor tonight.”
Halia saunters over to the table and holds out the coffee mug to the cow. “A game, then? I could hardly keep it together when I was taking work seriously.”
“Perhaps that is the crux of the issue, or at least it’s one I am willing to test. Of course, we’ll establish a safe word for you to use. Then you are free to finish the rest of the shift without any other stipulations or without owing me a thing tonight.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Halia takes a deep breath, rubbing her fingers over her jaw. It’s quite clenched, she’s just noticed. She stretches her mouth a moment, and then she says. “Alright then, what’s the word?”
“A safeword isn’t just chosen at random,” Rhannah says, picking up her emptied plate and taking it to the sink. “It must be chosen with a sort of care. Clean up and get ready for work. We’ll talk about it on the drive over.
“Drive over… it’s hardly a few minutes.”
“Well, I said it had to be carefully considered, not laboriously delegated. We’ll have something ready in a jiff, I’m sure.”
—
The drive starts out quiet enough, with Halia’s mind racing with potential ideas. She grips tight to the wheel, focusing her thought and attention on the road.
“So,” Rhannah finally says, turning from her glance out the window to face her driver. “Have you figured a word yet?”
“Me!?” Halia says. “Why do I have to figure it out?”
“Well, you are the one who will have to say it,” Rhannah says. “But if you insist on me making something up for you, I can figure it out.”
“I got one,” Halia says. “How about “YOu try that again, and I’ll rip your intestines out, tie them to a car, and drag you.”
Rhannah shakes her head. “Oh, no, no, no!. It would have to be something you would never ever say under any other circumstance…”
Halia shrugs. “Worked for me before, but we’ll do it your way.”
“How about ‘Nixie Six?” Rhannah suggests.
“I’m going to assume that has some meaning that’ll make me look like a total ass if I said that in front of people.”
“Oh, not at all. People might think you’re a strange clock aficionado, if they think there’s any meaning behind it at all. Besides, the girls know I like to play some silly games sometime. If you’re so embarrassed to be with me, then I suppose I underestimated you.” She shrugs at this.
“Embarrassed? You’re my boss. We’re breaking all kinds of laws just talking about this.”
“Ridiculous,” Rhannah says. “What we did last night was grounds for a civil lawsuit. What we’re doing right now is talking. Feel free to exercise your legal rights all over me if you wish.”
Halia pulls the car up along the dairy and slumps back when she parks. “Now, you don’t have to be like that,” Halia says. “But, we need a reason for this safe word to exist. What the hell am I supposed to be doing?”
Rhannah takes a deep breath, unbuckling herself. “Well, then. You will have twenty minutes to do this task. You see, the girls will be in there messing around, I am sure. You will need to make sure each of them are hooked up and ready to go. Not a single word to be said the whole time by you. Get them corralled, stripped, and pumping milk by the end of the time period, and I will grant you a gift tonight. I’ll let you think about that. Mess up and take too long, and you’ll have to help Beth out with her nervousness by working with us in the nude yourself. It is, after all, unfair that she has to strip down and you do not.”
“A gift’s pretty damn vague, if you ask me,” Halia says.
“Hm, perhaps…” Rhannah adds. “Perhaps, I could treat you to a nice dinner somewhere? Or, I could give you some delicious milk straight from the tap, or, oooh, there’s that new toy I ordered that should be coming in any day now… I was going to use it on you, but if you win…”
“Twenty minutes should be plenty of time,” Halia says, unbuckling herself and trying to hide her blush.
“Oh, what do you mean?” Rhannah asks, her lip curling up.
Halia pauses with the door halfway open. “Oh, no, you don’t. What trick are you pulling on me this time.”
Rhannah wags a finger in front of Halia’s face. “Tick Tock, Pet. I said, ‘twenty minutes’ when I first started talking. You have about fourteen now.”
“Fuckin’ shit!” Halia rushes out of the car and into the dairy. Rhannah, meanwhile, chuckles to herself and takes a leisurely stroll inside. After all. She’s not in a rush.
—
The cows all stand around the break room. They chatter among themselves before the shift starts when the mare bursts in through the door. Halia places her fingers in her mouth and attempting a whistle to command attention. Though her fingers fit into her muzzle like they should, the way her prosthetic pushes air through makes the sound come out in a pathetic fart.
The cows stop and look over towards her, the horse burning up, but she has no time to think about her limitations now. She has to think about the timing and the reward, or the punishment. She claps her hands together, points towards Bertha, and then to her station.
Bertha shrugs and gets up, walking on over towards her station without another thought. Some of the others get up and follow her, but Clara stands there, her hands upon her hips. “Oh, so what’s your big deal this time, huh? Running out on us and now thinking you can boss us around.”
Rhannah walks in, passing her station and heading to the break room herself. Clara smirks and nods with a quick “Mornin’, boss.”
“Morning, Clara,” Rhannah says, looking over her shoulder towards Halia.
Halia shoots a glare at Rhannah. It is a glare that the cow has to turn around to look away to compose herself from.
Clara turns back towards Halia and shrugs. “Well, the shift isn’t ready yet, and the boss doesn’t seem to have a problem with me. What the hell is your problem?”
Halia snorts, clopping her foot and pointing to the station.
“Got a few minutes left,” Clara says, looking up at the clock.
Halia sees the same clock. There’s more time before the shift starts than there is time left in her challenge. She narrows her gaze and folds her arms over her chest. It’s a game they’re playing, but she’s not about to lose. Rolling her eyes, she then marches over towards Clara, sighs, and gives her a sorrowful look, then looks to Rhannah, tilting her head towards the cow.
Clara bites her lip, tilting her head. “Hm… well now, I don’t know what the boss did to whip you into shape, but I think I like it. If you ever feel like talking and not being an ass, you know where I’ll be.”
Clara walks on over towards her station, and Halia sighs in relief. That’s when the bell chimes.
Nailed it.