“Pull out your tits and get to milking, Cindy Lou.” His voice turns pleasant again, the juxtaposition of the gentle versus the horrific making my belly jumble as sweat beads on my upper lip.
My hands shake as I reach down the new opening in the nightdress and draw out the weight of each breast. The nipples are leaking already, small dark circles showing my shame on the front of the fabric as he moves the mug to the edge of the table and taps the rim with the knife.
He nods, hooking the knife behind the open screen of the laptop and pulling it forward. Then he tugs out the chair at the head of the table, drops into it, and spins the laptop so the screen is in full view.
“Good girl. Now, I’ll read while you fill my mug.”
I just need to get through this, just get through this.
Tomorrow, I’ll go back to who I was, try to forget this ever happened, and definitely, definitely delete my Wattpad account.
But for now, I start to knead the heavy orb of my milk-filled breast, positioning the point of my nipple over the mug as I give it the first long squeeze.
“Oh, now that’s a Christmas miracle, right there.” He chuckles, slicing the knife blade through the jets of milk, then licking it off before turning his eyes to the laptop screen. “Now, where did I leave off on this magnificent story I’ve been reading over the last couple of weeks? You do know how to captivate your audience, Cindy Lou Who. Such a dirty mind.”
He jerks at the nylon as I work my flesh, five small streams of milk jetting into the porcelain, making soft hissing sounds as the milk hits the ceramic.
He clears his throat, his deep voice taunting me as he starts to read. “Then the Grinch is over me, the glorious weight of him pinning me down, his fur brushing over the sensitive flesh of my nipples.” He emphasizes the last word, glancing from the screen to my tits as I milk myself into his mug.
My eyes burn, but the act of milking myself for him is only encouraging that horrible Judas of anticipation and lust in my feminine parts.
“You’re a good producer. A perfect little milkmaid. Keep going, and I’ll keep reading until you have that cup half full. Then it will be milk and cookie time.”
He releases a low growly exhale as I work my breast, trying to ignore his sticky cum still seeping out of me, coating my thighs as he reads from the screen.
“The push of his cock into my opening sends me tumbling into the pleasure. It’s thick, green, and splitting me wide open. But there is no denyingthisis what I want. My deviant desires being fulfilled by the furry green monster of my Christmas dreams. I wonder if his cum is green? Does it sparkle? I can’t wait to taste it—”
“Please,” I whimper, cutting him off as I work my other breast, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing, as the mug starts to fill with the warm white liquid. “I know what it says. I know I’m sick, okay? I wrote it, I brought this on myself. I get it, I don’t need you to read it to me.”
Sweat trickles down my back as his eyes snap to mine. He spins in the chair, dragging me down to my knees by the nylon with a jerk, my spurting breast still in my hand as the milk arches and lands on his chest.
He scrapes it up with the knife, then holds it to my lips.
“That mouth needs something else to do. Lick it.”
My chin starts to quiver as he presses the cool blade against my lower lip. “Lick it clean, Cindy Lou. Then your mouth is going to get stuffed full of a different green monster.”
I shudder as he draws the knife blade across the tip of my tongue, the sweetness of the milk in contrast to the chilling slice of the metal.
“I bet your mouth is as good at taking big ole Grinch dick as your cunt. I’m making a long fucking naughty girl list of all the things I want to do to you, Cindy Lou. You’re just too good to be one and done. Now, take my dick out and give that mouth something productive to do.”
The cold tile floor under my knees makes me shiver as my breasts hang over the nightgown fabric, my fingers working the button on his jeans, then the zipper, until he pops free, as hard as he was earlier when he fucked me.
A low moan releases from somewhere deep in my gut as I lean over, the throbbing soreness and gush of his cum leaking out between my legs, reminding me of the violation I endured earlier. But the view of his big, green cock up close only increases my shame.
“Reach in there and pull out my balls. They need attention, too.”
He shifts in the chair, lifting his hips as I bite down on my lip and with trembling fingers scoop my hand down in the loose opening of his pants and find the thick skin, the heavy weight of his sac, and draw it out, letting them hang over the bottom of the open zipper as he lets out a satisfied exhale.
“Good girl. My balls needed to breathe. You handled those like a good princess. Firm and gentle. Christmas baubles need to be handledjuuuuuuuustright.”
The green tint must be a stain of some kind, because the flesh of his engorged shaft itself is smooth and shiny. The rougher texture of his scrotum is a deeper green hue. It’s not just painted on. He’s dyed himself somehow. That’s dedication. Intersecting veins wind around the shaft, and I can’t help being awed as I see it up close.
There’s a patch of dark hair at the root, and massive balls that I’m sure are holding a ton of bright green cum. I’m suddenly swallowing down saliva like a Pavlovian dog, wanting to feel the pressure of it pushing against my tongue, down my throat, the thickly cut ridge of the tip bumping against my tonsils…
“Get to it, Cindy Lou. Don’t forget to spit first, then wrap those hands and lips around and give Daddy what he needs.”
The interspersing of Daddy kink with the Grinch kink makes me clench as his hand comes down heavy on the back of my head, pushing me over the tip as I release a gathering of saliva in my mouth, then draw him between my lips. The salty, musky flavor of our combined release from earlier only makes the moment more intense.
