Her mind teeters on the edge of sleep, just awake enough to obey my whispered requests, but otherwise stealing moments of rest.
I weave silk washcloths and wet them in the sink, then wipe away the sweat, mating fluid, and milk.
I know better than to brush her curls—I’ll soon tend to them properly in the washing room—but for now, I dab the sweat from her scalp.
Clean and dry again, she curls against my chest.
I weave a sling so she can stay there, and I can tend to the duties that had me foolishly leaving her here this morning.
As I go about my day’s work with her cheek against my heartbeat, something quite dangerous takes root in the deepest part of my soul:
Love.
CHAPTER 7
ANDROMEDA
I pretendto stay asleep long after I stir.
It’s lovely here, tucked against Sylvus’s chest.
I fear that if he notices I’m awake, he’ll move me from here.
I fear it because it’s what heshoulddo.
I shouldn’t be snuggled here, basking in his warmth, soaking in his soothing scent.
Because I’m getting attached.
When I arrived here, the idea of being sucked at by multiple clients at once excited me. If I am, deep down, entirely honest with myself, I liked the idea of becoming athingfor a while, depersonalized and passed around, used for someone’s pleasure, using them for my pleasure in return.
Sylvus’s story about all the hucows hanging in that milking room had filled me with perverse pleasure.
Now, the idea of anyone else touching me sends a bolt of anxiety through me.
Sylvus notices, pausing.
I pretend to stir, as if from a bad dream, and snuggle back in.
He resumes his movement, whatever it is.
I need time to think. Before I inevitably have to eat again, then be milked again…
The thought sends a pang through my breasts.
Fuck.
I did not plan on being this into it.
I also didn’t plan on him having not one, buttwoirresistible cocks. His frontmost limbs, usually tucked under his humanoid torso, are like smaller legs that end in smooth dildos.
They’re firm enough to stretch deliciously, and flexible enough to not pinch. I love how they feel under my teeth and tongue, throbbing as I suck on them.
It’s deeply unfair how precisely he can control them, angling them into each spot just right to make me fall apart.
But that’s not what really gets to me.
How he drinks from my full breasts, eager yet steady…
