His laugh is cold, but there’s a subtle hint of warmth returning. “I never said there wouldn’t be consequences for your actions.”
“What consequences?”
“You’ve lost limb privileges for the day.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
Sylvus doesn’t answer.
I sit there and stare at the ceiling, bored out of my mind. The kettle whistles, and ceramic clinks a moment later.
I eagerly await him cutting my bonds like he did yesterday.
He tugs a few strands of thread, puppeteering me upwards, but makes no move to free me. Instead, he holds a teacup to my lips.
As an olive branch, I take a sip without complaint—then spit and gag. Bitterness clings to my tongue and throat.
“How long did you brew this? An hour?!”
He laughs to himself, peeling a violet fruit that resembles an orange. Once he’s pulled off a wedge, he holds it to my lips.
“I’m not falling for that twice?—”
While my mouth is open, he crams the fruit in, then holds my jaw shut.
Sweet, tangy juice spills across my tongue.
I chew and swallow, pretending it’s not one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted.
“Okay, fine, you’ve had your revenge. I can take it from here.”
He holds another wedge to my mouth.
I oblige.
Two wedges later, I say, “Okay, really now, I?—”
He shoves the piece in.
So this is what he meant by losing limb privileges.
My pride writhes in my chest, but my hunger overwhelms it. I dutifully open my mouth, taking and eating each piece he places on my tongue.
My body settles. Relaxes. Warm contentment spreads from my core as my basic needs are met. Lingering side effects from the transformation?
I take a deep breath, and my breasts strain against the silk, already swelling again.
Yep, definitely side effects.
Sylvus is punishing me and fattening me up so we can execute our scheme for profit, nothing more.
He feeds me two more of the lilac fruits, then three of a smaller, creamy pitted fruit that’s something like a cross between an avocado and a peach.
He offers me more water, and I’m surprised by my own thirst again.
When I stop drinking, he sets the cups aside.
“Alright, you win,” I offer. “I’ll be good from here on out. I’m ready to start earning. I’ll be allowed to cum next time, right? With a client?”
