She’s divine.
I work my tongue across my toes, licking up every drop, and the sight clearly affects her. She shakes in my silk, and every little vibration reaches my sensitive feet.
She huffs. “You’re not done!”
“I know. I’m taking my time.”
“I hate you.” Her moan and the milk dripping from her tits somewhat undermine the sentiment.
“Fine by me.” I wrap my tongue around her nipple and swallow greedily. That fresh, hot cream slides down my throat, pooling in my abdomen. My chitin flexes, expanding to take it all.
Fuck, I could do this for hours…
And by all indications, I will.
ANDROMEDA
Fuck this smug, stupid Arachnoid.
Fuck him and his razor-sharp jaw and his washboard abs and his gorgeous hair and his giant hands and his freakish tongue—that insane,incredibletongue that swirls around my nipple, making me gush.
Every passing second is a new high-water mark on the chart of ‘horniest I’ve ever been.’
I make noises no human or space-age sex toy has ever made me make. Every moment is excruciating need, every moment is exultant release. I’m so heavy, so full, and every time he sucks on me it feels so good.
Heat coils in my core, sharpening again. I try to play it cool, to sneak it by him. But I can’t help the shaking moan as orgasmic pleasure sparkles through me, and Sylvus pulls away again.
“Just let me fuckingcum!”
“Eventually.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“I’d like to see you try.” He lifts his arm, and the iridescent tattoo of our contract glitters there.
Apparently, murder is forbidden. I should have added a ‘but what if he really,reallydeserves it’ clause.
Hot slick slides down my thighs, and the awareness of how turned on I am turns me on even more.
I can take solace in one thing: each time Sylvus latches onto my nipple, he seems as eager for it as I am.
This time, his fingers sink deep into my flesh, sending out radiating waves of pleasure as he pulls my nipple intohis mouth. My breasts and cunt throb in tandem, and I’m practically edging with every pulse.
My head hangs heavy in the sling he made for me, and my back arches uselessly. I wish I had some discomfort to complain about—some bit of silk cutting off circulation, some awkward angle—but he’s strung me up perfectly. There’s only unbearable, relentless pleasure.
Is every milking going to be like this?
The thought alone makes my stream of milk surge, and Sylvus once again pulls back right when I hit the edge.
I squirm furiously. Blind need overtakes me, and violence rattles through my limbs—I need to claw, bite, scream. If not him, then myself. I dig my nails into my thighs, trying to draw blood.
Somehow, Sylvus notices. He quickly slices and adjusts the silk around my hands, wrapping my nails in a tight mitt.
I scream with rage.
Then the emotion passes, replaced too quickly with that stupid, embarrassing vulnerability.
Now I get why I’m immobilized. “Fuck, I’m going insane…”
