He sets his lips on my ear and whispers, “Because before you have a chance to lose the sexy baby weight, I’ll fill your cunt with my seed again and get you pregnant with another child.”
I tug on my wrists, out of my mind with lust.
“You’ll turn your body over to me, little pixie, letting me take care of you, trusting me to know what’s best. At first, you’ll need to wear a pad most of the time until you stop bleeding. After that, you’ll present like this, naked, pussy open, arousal dripping from you. I won’t be able to fuck your greedy cunt for several weeks while you heal, but I’ll rub your little clit to give you relief. I’ll also take your bottom when you need the penetration.”
I clench my lower cheeks at the thought. He hasn’t even been inside my pussy, and he’s talking about fucking my ass. The craziest part is that I want him to. I want him to do everything to me. I want to submit and let him take me to places I never dreamed would happen in real life.
“Do you want me to milk these tits now, little pixie?”
“Yes, Sir.” It’s baffling and irrational, but I want him to hook me to that machine so I’ll know what it feels like to be milked.
He leans toward the machine on the nightstand and brings it under me. Apparently, he’s already read the directions and knows exactly what to do. He lifts one of the cups, settles it against my breast, and turns on the machine.
I’m startled as my tit is sucked into the cup. It’s powerful and almost painful.
He quickly repeats the action on the other side so that both my breasts are in tight.
“I’m going to start the pump now, little pixie.”
I whine, uncertain and kind of nervous about the unexpected.
He turns a dial, and my breasts get sucked downward into the cones, the pressure almost too much.
“Watch your nipples, baby. Watch how they elongate inside the base of the cone.”
I purse my lips as I tip my head down farther to obey him. The sight is almost obscene. My small boobs are being rhythmically suctioned into these funnels. If there really were milk, it would be flowing out.
Brody adjusts the machine again, and now the suction switches back and forth from one boob to the other, over and over. This is the filthiest thing I will ever participate in. So dirty that I haven’t even read about a scene like this. I want to, though. I want to find every book that was ever written where the hero dry milks the heroine who hasn’t even had a baby yet.
His hand slides down my back, teases my ass, and then travels lower until he strokes my folds. “So wet… My girl really likes being milked.” He pats my inner thighs. “Spread wider for me, baby. I want my pussy obscenely open.”
I shudder violently this time, my stomach fisting from the need to come.
He taps my clit. “Do you think you can come if I stroke this little nub?”
“Yes, Sir,” I breathe out. I could probably come if he ordered me to. But I’d rather he touch my clit. I need the contact.
Brody drags my arousal to my clit and circles it, making me writhe. I want to beg him to touch it directly, but I’m afraid that might backfire on me, so I purse my lips instead.
My breasts ache. They’re going to be bruised tomorrow, and I’m not even sorry. The pain will remind me of this scene and make my horny all over again. I’m not sure how I’m going to start a new book with the last few days running through my mind over and over. It’s going to be a very kinky book. That’s for sure.
Finally, Brody touches my clit. “Come, little pixie.”
I orgasm instantly, my clit pulsing against his fingers. My channel is frustrated. If it could talk, it would scream at me to stop neglecting it. But there’s nothing I can do to fully satisfy my pussy, except marry the man currently controlling my body.
Suddenly, twelve days seems like a lifetime from now. That’s the day he said he wanted to marry me. Not this Saturday but the next.
I’m shaking when Brody turns off the pump and lets the cones drop off my chest. He quickly removes the machine before releasing my wrists and ankles.
Just when I think I’m free to finally fall onto the bed, collapsing in exhaustion, he scoops me up and carries me into the bathroom. The next thing I know, I’m sitting on the toilet. His hands are on my hips. He’s squatting in front of me. “Pee for me, little pixie, and then we can sleep.”
I whimper. I’m not sure I can do this. I don’t even think there’s any urine inside me.
He kisses my sore nipples reverently. “You can do it, baby.”
I close my eyes and focus, stunned that I manage to release my bladder after a few seconds. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to get this hygiene stickler off my back. The man even wipes me.
When I’m done, he stands me in front of him at the sink and washes our combined hands.
