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New story, of some length. All the usual stuff applies (it's mine, don't steal it, blah blah). Femdom, BDSM, a****l play, group stuff with some polykink.


Mistress implied in our conversation over dinner that evening that she did, in fact, have something special for me. A reward for my dutiful service, She said. Of course, I would have to patient. The special occasion was, She intimated, nine days hence. Now I knew that we had plans to attend a play party at the club that night, but on this subject She refused further speculation.
She also, as I gathered the dishes and cleared the table, bade me to come to Her side and go on form when I was done. Minutes later, I assumed the familiar and comforting posture that I had for some years now – sitting on my knees; my legs tucked under me, crossed at the ankles, head just slightly looking downward. I could tell She was smiling without having to look. Reaching out to me, She attached the leash to my collar, drawing my attention as I was trained.
“You are on lock down my dear pet. I will not hear of you touching yourself, allowing others to touch you, or any other means of physical gratification until I give you My permission. Do you understand?”
“Yes Mistress.” I said, meeting her eyes. It was one of the rougher parts of my training – She insisted that I look her in the eyes when being spoken to. Once it had gone against my nature, in that space. Now it was as natural as breathing.

I knew, of course, that she meant for the next nine days. She never said as much, and that was Her right, but the words remained unspoken, unnecessary. She knew that my girlfriend was away at school, and my only 'umfriend' in the vicinity was engaged in a rough time with their primary partner and so any sexual contact with zir was unlikely at best. Only when I have truly done something egregious will She punish me in a way that will affect my interaction with others. That has never happened.
Nine Long Days.
It reminded me, after a fashion, of a time, years before, when we did not live together, when we would count the days to when we could next see each other. So long ago….
It was harder than I’d thought. Something She knew implicitly.

That evening I was in a state of exquisite torment, and had been all day. Since we’d woken earlier in the day than either of us were wont to do on a Saturday, She availed Herself of the opportunity to tease me relentlessly. She brushed her toes up along the inside of my calf underneath my skirt at breakfast, walked about with Her crop for an hour…not doing *anything* with it. Flirting shamelessly – such that after lunch when suggested that I lay down for a nap – for surely I would need my rest for the evening – I fell down and begged Her for release. She smiled, clucked Her tongue, held me and denied me.
By evening, in the shower, I found myself soaking in the steam, only able to keep my hands away from myself by sheer force of will. She strode in at one point, saw me pressed against the tile with what She likes to call “my best look” on my face and proceeded to park upon the counter, part her skirts, and slide two fingers into her moist labium. She brought herself off in record time, watching me squirm and hearing me whimper.
When I exited the shower, I found that something had changed. The windows were open and a slight hint of incense was burning. In the bedroom, the outfit that I had laid out for myself (which wouldn’t have stayed on me for long that evening in any case) was absent. Something was there in its place.
A brassiere – more a harness than a bra. Fetish ware surely, but not of a kind that I recognized. Knowing the rules, I squeezed into it, twisting it around and mashing my breasts until I recognized how this was to be worn. Shimmying about, eventually I pulled first one, and then the other, breast through the openings – not so much designed to lift (in fact, it provided no lift whatsoever) as to restrain the chest but accentuated the breasts. My hoops, one in each nipple, were already standing erect at their familiar 45 and 33 degree angles from the rest of me.
From there, I wiggled into a new pair of panties – if such is the word for these. Easy access snaps across the bottom – in two places. Neat. I thought. Tight, and surprisingly sturdy – unusual, as Mistress likes my bottom to get a good blistering.
“Tonight you are wearing your hair down. “ Her voice, from behind me, sterner now. She snapped her fingers and I went to her, reading her body language. I knelt in front of Her and with a twirl of Her finger indicated that I would need to turn around.
She brushed my hair. Roughly and to an effect – it would be falling in my eyes all night.
“Mistress?” I asked.
“Stand up.”
“Yes Mistress.”
Standing, she grabbed the small d-ring on the front of my collar and, producing something, attached it. I didn’t dare move.
“That’s my good girl.” She said, just a hint of warmth in Her voice.
Letting go, I heard a small bell ring. She crossed her arms, smiling. Glancing at the mirror, she indicated it.
“Go ahead and look little one.”
A cowbell.
Shivers ran over my skin in little spasms – this was going to be an interesting night.

Once we reached , we immediately made our way upstairs to the second floor – in the back, to the right.
We passed a good little doggy girl on the way, about to get her ass beat sore. Their play space was clearly demarcated by a drop cloth which was itself covered my newspaper. The dog was whimpering as her Mistress held her by the hair and asked her “What is This?” while stuffing her nose into a wad of newspaper. In the distance, a doghouse, a water bowl, and a few other implements lay within the Domme’s easy reach.
Passing another vista, that of a friend of ours named Twee (she’s of Korean-Moroccan ancestry and has a thing for being buggered by people in uniforms. Whatever works for her I guess.), Mistress leads me to our designated play space for the evening.
Flush against the painted over black brick wall, is a pen, with a bit of straw s**ttered. Alongside it, a pair of buckets or farm pails, and inside the pen, a scaled down hitching post with three or four leather straps hanging across the wooden crossbeam. I note with some enthusiasm that the underside of that crossbeam has wrist (or I suppose they could be ankle) restraints. Smiling at what She has wrought; Mistress removes the travel cloak that I wore on the drive over here from my shoulders. I set Mistress’ toy bag down against the wall as I’m expected to do.
I’m already blushing, smelling a rising tide of rut from my nethers when Mistress indicates that it is time to go on form. I drop to my knees and then onto all fours, the bell at my neck ringing for all to see and hear.
Hand on the back of my neck, she walks me into the cow pen and buckles my wrists into the restraints. She takes her time, and observes me every inch of the way. In the background I can hear the puppy getting good and paddled, still whimpering. My mind begins to wander, wondering if they’re playing a housebreaking scene or something else…..
She catches my look, and walks me through the exercises that have developed over the years to make me focus. I smile and obey. Once she’s satisfied, she wanders away slightly, setting her things down and getting set up. Distantly, I can hear an Enigma remix playing elsewhere in the club.
When She returns Her attentions to me, she takes her gloved hands and sweeps my hair up out of my face and behind my ears. Telling me not to move, she slides a blindfold over my head and pulls my hair through it.
No, not a blindfold – blinders. I can see straight ahead, when my hair isn’t in my eyes, but that’s it. I start moving my head about and I get smacked for my trouble. She insures that it’s on snugly but not too tightly and then goes about my remaining preparations.
A hand is placed on the small of my back, and Her fingers snap. I part my legs at the knees and bend just slightly at the spine, proudly displaying my ass and nethers. Mistress pops the snaps off of my panties and they fall away. Pulling my cheeks apart, I feel a blush of cold as Mistress begins applying liberal amounts of lube to my ass; it’s the really thick kind that is semi gelatinous when it’s cold and becomes even slicker when it warms up. I bite my lip, knowing that She only uses this stuff when something truly large is going into me.
After pouring it on and getting me good and slicked up, inside and out, I can hear Mistress speaking – but not to me. Of course, I’m essentially in a corner, with something on my head, in a vague cone shape, so the acoustics are…garbled. Much according to Her plan I’m sure.
Quickly, a very thick, slightly curved plug is thrust up into me. My ass cramps a little at first, as the weight is not what I’m used to. Mistress works it, slowly but with force, in and out for a minute or so, twisting it left to right, getting me good and worked open to accept the thing. Almost immediately, something starts brushing the back of my thighs, tickling them.
A tail. I suppress a giggle, just barely, and Mistress jams the plug into its full depth – I surge forward and then gently rock back against and onto it. She pats my rump with satisfaction, tugging on what I now gather to be a full bovine tail, to insure that it was inside me securely. My shaved little cunny must be dripping by now….
The voices grow louder – closer to my head. Experimentally, I shake my ass a little. I can feel the cow tail swishing back and forth, tickling each thigh as it glances off of them. My ass feels extremely full – and each twitch of my hips brings the delicious feeling of being stretched to capacity. Such that I, quite unintentionally, rumble a bit at the back of my throat.
“What? What was that?” Mistress snaps. I can feel her approaching. I turn my head just a little and can see Her by the feet – as well as someone standing behind. Someone wearing chaps. A male person in such. Pulling my head up by a fist of hair, Mistress looks at me, giving me a brief vista of the play place to my right. Mr. Chaps is rather well endowed. There’s a second person, just beyond the corner of my available vision, setting a few things down on the floor.
“Do you want something cow?”
I almost speak. But that breaks the rules. (Well, unless I’m safe wording.) I look at her, as placidly as I can. She smiles that evil grin that tells me she’s proud of me and roughly drops my head back to where it was. After a moment, she produces something from her coat and places her palm in front of me. I think it’s a sugar cube. ((I believe that’s primarily for Ponies, but in this case, Her cow is hypoglycemic and so it can’t hurt.)) I tongue the cube into my mouth and chew it slowly, earning a solid pat on the ass.
She lets go, and I hear their voices clearer now. They are friends of ours. Part of our extended family-of-choice; no one I’ve ever played with before, but nonetheless….
“Let’s see her.” The man, who I’m already starting to think of as a ranch hand of some kind, says.
Mistress unlocks my wrists from the hitching post and, pausing once, starts gently whipping me with Her crop, steering me out of the pen and into the center of our scene area. Holding my head up high, I trot out into the center of the room, before Mistress’ two assistants. She wallops me good near the back of the neck to tell me to lower my eyes, and my head drops significantly. I gingerly walk ahead on all fours, eyes down but tracking on Mistress’ lead, the stings of the crop gathering on my back, my ass, and now the backs of my legs. Then, She stops, and so do I.
Mistress chuckles, a deep resonating sound that sends little hot needles into my spine from head to cunt. “You may feel free to begin inspecting the heifer. I’m sure you’ll find her adequate for your needs.”
Hands move over me. One roughly coils my hair into his fist and jerks my head up, looking at my face. Just a few feet away, Mistress stands in front of me observing everything. He turns my head this way and that, looking into my eyes, and opening my mouth. Mistress clicks Her tongue, and I produce my own for inspection. All the while, another, smaller set of hands lifts my tail and pries my cleft apart, sliding a finger inside me.
Releasing my hair, the rancher drops to one knee and grabs my right tit, fully in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing hard. I whimper and Mistress gives me a firm look.
“These teats have milk?” He asks.
“Of course.” Mistress replies. “She’s about ready for breeding I think. Do keep in mind that her sale is not on the table. This one belongs to me. “
“I don’t see a brand.” The girl’s voice, accompanied by a finger twisting around in my insides. I strive to keep quiet, though my face is burning with pride at Mistress’ territorial statement of Her possession of me.
“Well, any breeding would obviously require certain…formalities.” She says.
“Well, I’ve a busy night-“ he begins.
“I’m prepared to do so this evening, provided she meets your requirements.”
The woman’s fingers quickly evacuate from betwixt my labium. “We’ll need to take her temperature, too. A really thorough inspection.” She says.
Things move very quickly then. Mistress hangs back, talking to the rancher – and I’m remembering that he’s not only familiar with the process of branding, but I think he is the person that Mistress initially started expressing an interest in learning from. All at once I’m scared and shivering with the knowledge that Mistress has found another way to proclaim to the world Her ownership of me.
The woman is on her knees alongside me, producing this huge thermometer. Placing just a hint of jelly at the tip, she smacks my ass - I can feel Mistress’ eyes observing, making absolutely certain I do as I’m instructed – and I thrust my ass up, parting my legs at the knee. With all the consideration due an a****l, she slides the thermometer deep into my cunt, working it around until I start tightening up around it. Finally, making a noise of quiet satisfaction, she leaves it there, buried as deep as it will go, before – one at a time – straddling each of my legs and hauling my feet up to look at the soles. She scratches at them, pokes them with tiny little needles, and all the while I try to remain quiet and still.
Eventually, completing this, she moves to my right side, obscuring what little peripheral I have of Mistress and the rancher, producing their materials.
It’s really going to happen. Like right now.
Harder than her counterpart had done, the woman grabs my tits, hanging to the floor and bound at the base by the harness I’m wearing. She really digs her fingers in to the tender pale flesh, not easing up until I give out a sharp wince of pain. That hurts. Smiling with satisfaction, she is handed something by Mistress and begins to run a small chain through my rings. Why I wonder.
It’s much much heavier than I would have expected. She loops it thorough twice before locking it in place – which pulls my nipples out that much further and also tugs my tits closer together. Another five minutes of that in this position and I’ll be in agony. I’m not expecting her to remove them until we are done.

After about five minutes, Mistress’ female assistant removes the thermometer. Just as she is doing so, Mistress and Her other move into position behind me. She is, I think, gesturing towards my "veterinarian"; who is now down on one knee again. Roughly and with a doctor's thoroughness, she cheeks my teeth, my hair, my ears, my eyes, and takes my pulse - which is racing at this point.
"Chain her hooves. We can't have her bolting when we apply the brand." the man's voice instructs. Looking at me once, she is handed Mistress' favorite pair of restraints and begins tightly clasping them around each wrist, drawing them up good and tight. Mistress pats my rump and walks to where I can see her. With the toe tip of her thigh-boots, she lifts my chin.
Our eyes meet. Just checking in. I'm fine beloved.
"Moo, bitch-cow. I want to hear that bell jingle." She's grinning as she kneels down, taking me roughly by the collar. "Filthy little slut likes to be on all fours sticking her ass up in the air for anyone who comes along to do what they like. Dirty fucking little cunny."
As my blush response overwhelms me, she jerks me forward by the collar, not quite close enough to kiss.
"Mine."
I almost speak. Almost.
"Good little bessie-bitch." and with that, she releases me.
From behind me, I can feel the ambient heat of something heating, even as my vet is shooing people away - safety reasons. Still, knowing that I'm the attention for all those people....
Mistress' ranch hand clears his throat.
"We're ready."
Mistress grabs one of her implements, and jerks the blinders off of me. Far more light in here than I'd thought possible floods my eyes. Someone - my vet I think - pulls my head up by the hair and Mistress fits a bit into my mouth, checking it for fit, and then pulling the harness taught over my face and clasping it behind my ears. My vet-nurse releases my hair and Mistress trails a fingertip over my bitten lips before moving away.
The waiting is intolerable. I can hear motion, things clattering, and that smell...hot metal, and a hint of leather. I'm starting to sweat - more from the anticipation than the heat, when I feel my tail being moved up out of the way. A pair of calloused, very male hands, take my hips in a firm grasp.
"Head down." Mistress commands. Neither of us breathe for a moment.
The pain is exquisite. I cry out in that moment of raw sensation, feeling every nerve ending opening. My entire body tenses in a single breath and my teeth clench down upon the bit. I can still feel the thing pressed into my skin, searing my flesh – and everything, very briefly goes sideways.
I feel Mistress’ hand upon me – guiding, watching and almost hear Her wishing she could be up front, paying more attention to my reaction, but it is important that it is by Her hand that the mark is placed upon me. I can hear more than feel myself hyperventilating, and Mistress’ other assistant, whom I’ve come to think of as the Vet is kneeling nearby, watching my colour, taking my pulse.
The smell is not unfamiliar. Yes, it does, in waves, smell rather like steak.
All sense of time is annihilated as the pain rolls through me in waves - even as I feel the brand coming away from the skin - I'm reminded of the shock that my body was knocked into when Mistress supervised my first piercing - my left nipple. A mix of nausea, adrenalin, throbbing pain, and the intensity of every sensation amplified a thousandfold. My arms begin to buckle as a wave of dizzy comes over me.
"Hold her." She commands. Immediately, each of Her assistants is on either side of me, lifting my arms and removing the chains that bind me. Mistress blows on the still melty hot flesh and I convulse, bare knees dragging across the hardwood with a yelp. Each of them tighten their grip on me. My nipples are screaming as I thrash about, that chain running between both rings suddenly much heavier than it had been.
"Hold." SMACK Still." She growls. I can't tell if that was the crop of something else that She laid across my back just now. I'm sniveling, tears threatening to break surface tension and roll down my cheeks, not getting nearly enough air.
I stop moving. Only now, in retrospect, hearing the noises that rumbled out of my bitted mouth. Her hand rubs my back, examining Her work, easing me back down.
"This should be satisfactory." She says. "Lead her back into her pen."
Numbly, I'm taken by the bit and led back around, very shakily into the cow pen, where a few horse blankets have been laid out. Mistress follows us over, moving the girl out of the way and laying me down on the blankets, looking me over and inspecting.


Mistress’ inspection of me was very direct and to the point. Summoning her assistants, everything was removed of me save that which never leaves me (my rings and my collar) – and the harness that held my breasts into that firm and bloated shape. Lifting me by the hair, she laid a single throw pillow down and then – very gently – placed my head upon it. On Mistress’ directives, my Vet came over, kneeling and began brushing my hair, with a course wire brush, parting it in the middle and whispering to me as one does to simple minded b**sts.
In the background, just barely over the din of the rest of s debauchery, I could make out Mistress negotiating something with her Cowboy.
My rump was sore, the burning – shooting pain still like a fresh injection crawling from my thigh, into my hips and back, a soft trickling oozing from my hungry pudenda. An uncountable time passes this way, my Vet leisurely brushing my head and relaxing me, putting me into cool down. In the distance I can hear crops burning their way across backs and backsides, screams both of delight and torment fresh in my ears. In its way, this relaxes me further – while never keeping that constant possibility of new handling far from my mind.
When it changes, it is sudden. I think I had almost managed to drift into a near sleep when I quite crisply hear Mistress speaking.
“Get up. Get the heifer on her feet.”
Nursie, my Vet, her fingers already in my hair, coils her hand into a fist and pulls me painfully upright. An improvisational knot, my Vet leads me around, and walks me around my pen, which is just narrow enough for me to have to focus on it. In the background, I hear the sounds of someone shedding their clothes.
“Now we’ll see just how well she takes to being studded.”
WHAT?
Without warning, my Vet pushes me back in the other direction and much more forcefully than before, shoves me head first into the throw pillow. Were it not for the blankets, I think my knees would be screaming at me by now – as it is, they are at least crying a little.
Rough, calloused fingers are on my rump. My brain blows a fuse and a panicked terror comes over me. Mistress wouldn’t really-
Those fingers are spreading my cheeks apart, firmly and vigorously. Reflexively I fight a little, and immediately those hands grab a handful of each cheek and pulls hard.
No warning, no preparation – though I’m still just as wet as before, if not more so. As he grabs my hips roughly and pushes his way in, past my cleft and deep into me, I sigh, suckling in the air.
There is no art, no subtlety to what the Bull does to me. His tool is massive and uncut, and very very hard, curving just slightly upward towards the head. Impatient, he pistons into me, giving me no further time to warm up or to accommodate his punishing shaft, and with each heavy heartbeat he relentlessly pounds into my cunny. I bite the pillow to keep from screaming at the distention, eyes clenching shut with an overflow of sudden fresh tears but every inch of my body is trembling with fear and ecstasy. He’s grunting now, letting loose with a torrent of rough a****l noises, and my body betrays me, responding in kind – backing my sopping cunt against him with equal force, my brain feeling a growing spark whenever his balls crash into me. I’m not screaming anymore – and Mistress, supervising, yanks my hair up to see what Her girl is feeling. My eyes are closed and I can’t talk – just moan, and grunt, and ululate a need for more. “That’s my fucking little twat.” She whispers.
Grinding his teeth loud enough that I can hear them clicking together, the Bull grabs my shoulders and folds me against him as he shudders and convulses behind and within me, pounding and grinding out every last drop of cum that his body can bear to part with. Now I scream but with need – I haven’t cum yet and I’m oh so close…..
Banging into my sore, red ass thrice more, he cums but a little more, a sputter where once there had been a spray, before nonsensibly nuzzling the back of my neck with his nose and letting himself fall out, spent and flaccid. My ass continues to shake, my cunt contracting, wanting more…

I don’t dare speak now.

My ass is dancing, or feels like it, in the air, of its own accord. Little muffled groans and sighs erupt from between parted lips now and again, expecting, wanting, and remaining unfulfilled. My pulse is still rocketing in every extremity, from ass to tits, to toes, up to my head. After a moment, I hear the bull being rather curtly dismissed, his use now quite literally spent. Absently I wonder if, and then conclude, that the Rancher and the Bull were the same – one in clothes, and one very much without.
I am lifted by the hair again. Mistress is leaning forward, eyes boring into mine.
"I'm going to remove these. They will come back."
Heaving heavy breaths, I feel Her fingers deftly tickle my right nipple as she undoes the ring that hangs there, and slides it out - for the first time in – four years? Since I received it at any rate. Feeling my Vet stepping over me from behind, another pair of hands this time close around my other one, and then my other ring is too removed.
“On your knees, Springer cow.” Obediently but tired, I “stand” again on my palms and knees. Mistress consults with my Vet, who is walking back over me and then out of the pen. Mistress produces a wide leather leash, and attaches it to the d-ring on my collar. ungently, she tugs on it, pulling it taut, until I obediently turn and follow Her out of my pen.
Nursie is setting something up. I’m led about halfway back over to where I was branded (This, I thought, is a pretty big barn.) and turned around, where my wrists are lashed to the hitching post with my own leash. Mistress then turns and consults with Nursie, making lots of noises just outside the range of vision.
At long last, she then produces a small glass or plastic suction cup, with a hose attached. She affixes this over my left tit, firmly so that the edges dig into the areola and - manipulating something I can hear but not see - begins pumping. A flutter catches in my throat as increasing suction creates a vacuum around my nipple which is painful and exhilarating. The pain increases, and the tip of my nipple grows numb for a moment, until an ache from deep within my left breast begins growing outward, being pulled toward the suction with each loud rasping suction blast of the machine pump. Mistress, watching carefully, bits my mouth again and ruffles my hair as one would a prized a****l, and then sets back to work observing.
Which is good because in seconds I’m crying from the effort. A very small, little pin point orgasm, almost erupts from my left breast, but is enveloped in a wash of pain so overwhelming that a red haze fills my eyes. I swoon – but they catch me.
In short order, the machine is removed and, with some adjustment, affixed to my other tit.
Mistress is right there now, on her knees, having stripped out of much of her garments for the evening, slicking her fingers up with cocoa butter even as the same pain begins to build in my right breast. I look down, vaguely, noting a small amount of blood on my nipple. Feeling that familiar light headedness, I feel something …. Else, of a wholly different consistency, leaking out and running down the end of my engorged and distended nipple.
Mistress applies her fingers and the pain is exquisite.
The suction cup on my right tit feels like it’s going to pull my lungs out through it – and this time the other feeling wins out. A feeling so primal and so unexplainable boils out from my innermost depths and as the first droplets of colostrum is pulled out of my right breast, I shudder and sway and buck and whine as the orgasm rips it’s way through me.
“Whoa there girl.” I’m told, though I can hear the smile in Her voice. The suction tube is removed from my right tit and I almost cum again. My Vet is patting my haunches, feeling me cum in waves. My senses wide open, I can smell them both hot and dripping and wet, but no more so than I.
Mistress takes the lead, and Vet puts the milk pail beneath me as they collectively undo the harness, and gravity is suddenly very much allowed to pull my nipples down. They feel … full, as a cock should about to burst. Each of them patting me and squeezing encouragement out of me, they then set to work on each tit, slowly but with measured persistence.
In perhaps half a minute, I’m spraying white into my Mistress’s palm. I drop the bit out of my mouth, and Vet takes Mistress’ lead, changing to longer, straining strokes, and so to I hear the first right spray as it tinkles against the metal pail. I want them each so badly to apply their lips to me but I know that they will not – it’s a beautiful exquisite lack of fulfillment, that gets just a little closer to taking me over the edge again with each tug and squeeze of my chest.
At one point they start to alternate, and I have trouble keeping my head up I’m so dizzy. My spine shakes within its bone as I am reduced to the state of a dumb a****l, utterly unable to express how right it is that it be used for its milk. I know, I know that my breasts are going to be sore for weeks and the nipples will be dry to cracking (which is why Mistress is insisting they use cocoa butter). Nevertheless, while they milk my fat, pale, udders, spraying what I have made in myself into their hands, running down their wrists, washing into the milk pail, I am lost in a kind of place that I have never been before.
With time, the pain begins to outweigh the pleasure, bringing with it fatigue. Both Vet and Mistress’ fingers must be tired to the core – Vet begs off, with a stern look from Mistress, but She of course does not relent. Instead She moves behind me, and takes a breast into each hand, leaning into me and rubbing my clit with Boot, milking me until I cum screaming.
In time, Nursie pats my head, leaving. My head is bowed forward, and Mistress has permitted her to drink of some of my, nay – Her – milk. The smell is hot and…unexplainable. It makes me horny and soft and warm all at once. The conflicting drives and desires become a soft cushion for my mind as Mistress begins to slowly bring me back down….
“You did very good Girl. Next time-“
“Next time?” I blurt, excited and afraid all at once.
Mistress glowered at me, making a mental note of my impertinence.
“Next time Girl, we get you a septum ring.”
“Moo.”
Contentment.