DISCLAIMER: The characters of Xena and Gabrielle are not mine (Renaissance Pictures/MCA Universal have first dibs); I just borrowed them for a bit, but I returned them none the worse for wear. This story is for entertainment purposes only and is not meant to infringe on any copyrights held by MCA Universal or Renaissance Pictures. The rest of this torrid and florid story is mine.

Thanks a bunch to Harlequin Romance and Fabio.

Thanks and apologies to the Dairy Council for the title.

Extra special thanks to dB for egging me on and to Dana for editing/helpful hints.

VIOLENCE: A wee bit of playful, forceful persuasion.

SEX : Yes. Grrl/Grrl action. Run and hide or scroll and read.

Send kudos and/or brickbats to: lala@screamingxenas.com

Got Milk?
by LaLa            

Gabrielle wears an ankle length peasant skirt and a long sleeve tight, bosom pushing up and out bodice. The hem of her skirt tucked into the waistband, exposing a pale and slender thigh. Her long copper colored hair loosely falls about her face in wispy carefree abandon. She's just finished milking the cows and turns to exit the barn with a bucket in each hand. Gabrielle looks up and gasps--there backlit and leaning up against the barn entrance is a warrior. A big, bad, warrior. A big, bad, very bad, very female warrior. Gabrielle is transfixed, staring with naive curiosity, simultaneously feeling repelled and attracted. The warrior moves from her perch, closes the barn doors, and places the locking wooden plank in place. The sound of wood colliding with metal snaps Gabrielle from her trance; in a panic, she drops the milk buckets, thunking on the soft dirt and spilling their wet, white contents around her immobile bare feet. The warrior saunters, slowly, towards the trembling milkmaid, whose bosom heaves heavily, erratically. Nervousness? Excitement? Fear? The warrior ponders this and smirks in anticipation.

Gabrielle quickly bends to retrieve the fallen buckets, cursing softly. Sensing a presence, she looks up finding her field of vision filled with smooth tan thighs and studded leather. Gabrielle feels lightheaded and tries standing only to lose her balance and fall backwards, sprawling in an ungainly tangle of arms and legs. Bemused, Xena observes the swooning and notes with approval Gabrielle's new position affords an unobstructed view of both thighs--and then some. Xena pins Gabrielle with her piercing azure eyes and slowly runs a suggestive slick pink tongue over her ruby red lips. Gabrielle blushes the color of sunset and swallows nervously. Xena steps forward, offering a hand in silent invitation. Gabrielle looks from the hand to Xena's face, gauging the threat. After a moments hesitation, she RSVPs; the warrior's warm, strong hand engulfs her delicate fingers. Gabrielle feels a slow burn blaze from her palm, flicker up her arm, radiate over her bountiful bosoms, to settle and smolder in her belly.

"I'm like a pancake drowning in a drizzle of hot sticky syrup," she fuzzily thinks.

Xena easily pulls Gabrielle into a standing position with a powerful tug, 'accidentally' enveloping Gabrielle in an embrace. Draping her muscular arms around the nubile body, Xena weaves a tapestry of seduction. The milkmaid swathes herself in the beguiling heat, cozy and content until she becomes aware of three things: the musky intoxicating scent of the warrior, her own growing excitement, and her vow of chastity. Quickly, Gabrielle disentangles herself.

Xena reluctantly releases her hold, but not before brushing a sly fingertip down Gabrielle's naked thigh. Gabrielle gasps, goose bumps erupting on her pearly flesh.

She stammers, "I've got to clean this up and milk the cows again. Father will be very angry if I don't return soon."

Xena notes her proximity agitates the young, innocent milkmaid. A wicked idea coalesces in her big bad brain.

"Oh we wouldn't want daddy mad now, would we? You seem so upset over spilt milk, why don't I help you."

Gabrielle finds it hard to breath, hard to think, she whirls and takes refuge behind the nearby butter churn, hoping the appliance will afford a measure of defense against the advancing warlord. Gabrielle considers the duality of her quandary as her hands wrap around the butter churn's handle; she is repulsed by the brazen familiarity with which this warrior woman touches her, yet that same touch from this swarthy scoundrel awakens something primal, something passionate in her pristine soul. Xena crosses her arms and gazes with smirking amusement as Gabrielle's conscience wrestles a losing battle with itself; her hands unknowingly, slowly begin to move the butter churn's handle up and down.

"I could give you a hand......with the butter."

"Uh, um, that's ok, really. I don't need your hands, er, ah, help."

"It would go so much faster."

"But I like it slow."

"I'm sure you do," the warrior flashes a wicked smile, "Fast. Slow. There's more than one way to make cream."

Gabrielle stops suddenly, the implication paints a distracting, vivid picture in her mind; realizing too late Xena is behind her, pressing cold breast armor into her back, reaching around to place strong hands over hers.

Xena's mouth a whisper away from her ear, "Let me..."

The warrior moving their hands up and down, leisurely, rhythmically, "...help you."

Gabrielle closes her eyes and leans back, carried away by the low rumbling voice, like distant thunder, and lets temptation's tempest rain down on her, sprinkling a light sheen of sweat over her ample cleavage. The milkmaid exhales raggedly and can't tell whether exertion or excitement is to blame. Xena hears Gabrielle's labored breathing and hungrily watches her breasts strain against the taut restraint of the bodice. A bead of sweat glides down the milkmaid's tender throat,  tumbles over the precipice of her collar bone, trickles over the ample flesh, and pools between the scoops of creamy womanliness. Xena quickens the pace of their churning, pumping furiously, until they are both breathing erratically.

Unbidden, Xena imagines smearing and slathering the thick sweet cream on the milkmaid's hot, moist muffin. Luxuriating in the feel of the melting slickness on her tongue and lips, dribbling down her chin, licking every tasty morsel of passion from her glistening fingertips.

Xena murmurs, "I can't believe it's not butter."

"Melts in your mouth, not in your hands," Gabrielle breathlessly replies.

"Depends on whose hands."

A pleading moan escapes Gabrielle's lips. Xena responds by nuzzling her face in Gabrielle's hair, searching and finding a lonely earlobe. Xena befriends the orphaned flesh with a warm handshake of mouth and tongue. Gabrielle moans louder and arches into the warrior; she feels teeth sink into her tender lobe, mixing pleasure and a hint of pain. Gabrielle's eyes pop open. She squeaks and wildly breaks the embrace, spinning away. The butter churn forgotten, Gabrielle turns and stares into sky blue eyes dark and stormy with passion.

"Please, leave me alone!" begs Gabrielle, backing away from the predator in leather.

Xena circles her prey, and growls,

X: "Give in."

G: "Give up."

X: "Submit."

G: "Never."

X: "Tease."

G: "Rogue."

X: "Temptress."

G: "Savage."

X: "Impudent wench."

G: "Corrupter of youth."

X: "Prissy Missy."

G: "Loosey Goosey."

X: "Dairy Queen."

G: "Burger King."

Xena's eyebrows knit together in momentary befuddlement.

X: "Obey me."

G: "Make me."

X: "Over easy."

G: "Shaken, not stirred."

X: "Wetter, wilder."

G: "Kinder, gentler."

X: "Hot n' bothered."

G: "Fierce n' frosty."

X: "Tastes great."

G: "Less filling."

With each verbal volley, one advances and the other retreats; step by step, inch by inch Xena closes in until Gabrielle is trapped against the side of a wagon. A hairsbreadth away from pressing the length of her body against Gabrielle, Xena leans forward, warm breath tickling the young girl's ear.

X: "Take it and like it."

G: "Take it and shove it."

X: "Suck and blow."

G: "I don't think so."

X: "Bump and grind."

G: "Get your hand off my behind."

X: "Surrender the pink."

G: "I'm not into kink."

X: "Come."

G: "Go."

X: "Please?"

G: "No."

X: "Don't make me ask you twice."

G: "What happened to being nice?"

X: "Sassy."

G: "Brassy."

X: "I like a good fight."

G: "I have a headache, not tonight."

X: "Enough talk, I want action."

G: "I won't give you the satisfaction."

X: "Try it, you'll like it."

G: "That's what I'm afraid of."

Xena imprisons Gabrielle, arms on either side of her quivering body, holding her hostage. The milkmaid feels tingly, out of her body, and watches helplessly as Xena lowers her lips. The warrior tastes like sweet sun kissed fruit, lips softer than peach fuzz, juicy. Tentatively, Gabrielle opens her lips to feast upon more of the forbidden fruit.

Xena chips away at Gabrielle's reluctance, unearthing and mining this vein of passion, staking her claim. Using her kisses to extract every nugget of desire, Xena digs, drills, and detonates--laying waste the milkmaid's resistance. The warrior's hands explore the uncharted territory of Gabrielle; meander through her thick forest, plum the depth of her valley, ascend her twin peaks, and raft her raging river of desire. Unknowingly speaking her thoughts, Xena mutters under her breath, "Over the river and through the woods to Gabrielle's core I go, my hand knows the way..."

At that moment, Gabrielle's virtue reasserts itself and vigorously reminds the wayward lass of her pledge to the Hesitan Virgins. She tears her lips away and rasps, "Stop! You beast, you brute, you animal!" while pounding her fists ineffectually on Xena's breast armor.

"Don't dent the armor."

"No matter what you say or do, I'll never give in!"

"We'll see," the warrior's pearly white teeth gently nip the tip of the girl's nose, "I have many skills."

The warlord steals another kiss and Gabrielle feigns compliance. Xena releases her grip on the young girl's upper arms only to have her duck under the wagon and scurry away. Xena takes a quick step around the wagon and circles the slim waist with strong arm; the warrior lifts the struggling milkmaid and carries her towards the bales of hay.

"I told you not to run. I'm not going to hurt you.....much."

Gabrielle redoubles her struggle and screams in frustration as she spins topsy turvy. When the world stops spinning, she finds herself face down across the warrior's warm firm thighs. Xena roughly hikes Gabrielle's skirt up revealing, to the warrior's surprise and satisfaction, no underwear.

"For me? You shouldn't have.......but I'm glad you did."

Gabrielle's mind races, she's trapped and about to be spanked. She clutches the warrior's booted leg and tenses for the impending blow. It never comes. Instead, Xena lightly circles and tickles her plump cheeks with teasing fingernails. Gabrielle relaxes, the breath she was unconsciously holding escapes red ripe lips with a sigh.

*smack*

Gabrielle jerks and cries out in surprise and discomfort.

"Will you do as I say?"

"Yes!"

*smack*

"Ow! What was that for? I said I'd do as I was told!"

"Just making sure."

Xena's fingernails resume dancing over the firm flesh and Gabrielle slowly uncoils; Xena's hand changes direction and dips down to pluck the pink dew laden petals of the milkmaid's maidenhood. Fingers caress the tender bud, coaxing her to blossom. Xena inhales the heady fragrance, spreads the tangy pollen, and pauses to taste the bouquet of sweet   unspoiled nectar.

Gabrielle squirms, impatient with the pace of the torturous assault, the warrior waging a maddening campaign of delayed gratification. Gabrielle wants it, wants it bad, and wants it now. "Please, big, bad, buxom, and beautiful warrior," the inflamed maiden implores, "sheath your sword in my scabbard, divide me, conquer me, penetrate my defenses, subjugate my heart, and crown yourself with my jewels."

Xena answers the desperate plea by flipping Gabrielle over and onto the ground, hissing huskily, "You're overdressed."

The worked-up warrior kneels, grips, and rips the milkmaid's bodice in half, emancipating the captive breasts; Gabrielle writhes as Xena's rending hands shred her skirt. A timeless moment passes as hungry sapphire eyes devour alabaster skin. Snarling, Xena mounts and rides this unbroken, spirited filly. With gripping thighs and a firm hand in Gabrielle's wild, whipping mane of hair, Xena tames the unbridled bucking and biting. The warrior asserts her mastery, whipping the milkmaid into a frenzy as they race towards the finish line.

The universe expands, then contracts and sucks Gabrielle into a black hole of pure light and sensation. Her passion builds to a crescendo and  she erupts in an explosion of ecstasy,

"XEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE *gasp* NAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!"

The milkmaid's roar of release reverberates throughout the barn, the town, the province, the country, the known world--

"Xena?"

::silence::

"Xena. Hey, anybody home?"

"Uh, what is it Gabrielle?"

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Your face is flushed, are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Sure?"

"Really."

Gabrielle studies her friend closely.

"If you aren't sick, then why are you distracted, glassy-eyed, and sweaty? Unless," Gabrielle trails off as she considers the evidence and the probable cause, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were fantasi--"

"Gabrielle!"

"So you were!"

"Really, I--"

"Which fantasy? The strict headmistress and the naughty schoolgirl?"

No reaction from Xena.

"The gullible farmer's daughter and the traveling salesman?"

Still no reaction from Xena.

"Or maybe the big, bad warlord and innocent milkmaid?"

Xena colors slightly.

Aha, that's the one! You're blushing!"

"Am not!" Xena huffs and tries to ignore Gabrielle's smug grin. "Oh, all right, I was thinking about it."

Gabrielle's grin turns into a full-fledged smile.

"Gabrielle?"

"Hmm?"

"How come you never let me be the big, bad warlord?"

"You do that everyday."

"But--"

"Xena, it's called role-reversal. Anti-typecasting. Subverting archetypes. Taking a walk on the wild side."

A non-committal grunt from Xena.

"Do you mean to tell me you don't enjoy being the milkmaid?"

"Gabrielle, you know I do, but--"

"Thought so."

They emerge from the forest and walk into a meadow.

"Hey, lookee there, Xena, a barn. What a coincidence."

"Hmph."

"Don't sulk."

They continue walking and Xena continues sulking.

"You know," Gabrielle breaks the silence and casts an impish glance at the taciturn warrior, "I feel a sudden urge to milk some cows."

Fade to black...

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