Page 52 of Haden

I kiss her gently and then trail a finger down to her breast to circle one of her nipples. “I was picturing the future,” I admit. “In less than a year, your tits will look nothing like this.”

She shivers. “Haden…”

I tap the bud, making it stiffen further. “These little nipples are so fucking sexy, and your areolas are tiny. Nine months from now, they will both be much larger.”

She whimpers adorably. “Haden…” she breathes out.

I cup her breast, weighing it in my palm. “Your boobs are barely a handful now. When you get pregnant, they will grow bigger every day.” I stroke my thumb over the soft skin on the underside of her breast. “Then after you give birth, they will get tight and heavy when you need to be milked.”

She shudders, panting. “Milked…” The word drips from her lips and trails off. I love shocking her. She licks her lips. “You can’t milk me, Haden,” she murmurs. “I’m not a cow.”

I pinch her little nipple and give it a tug. “Of course I can, baby. And I will. Several times a day.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. I can breastfeed.”

“Mmm. Sometimes, but occasionally, I will feed our babies so you can sleep.”

She squirms, purring. “Then I’ll pump so we can save some for the baby.”

I twist her now-swollen bud, making her arch. “I will manage the pump, jitterbug. Not you. And I’ll do it often, milking you dry after you nurse so that your body will make more.”

Fuck, but she’s gorgeous, all worked up over this. My cock is so hard I’m likely to come in my briefs. She grabs my wrist as if she can stop me from tormenting her.

“Arms over your head, naughty girl.” I pinch her nipple harder to get her attention.

She squeals, bucking her torso.

“I didn’t deliver the spanking you deserved last night because you weren’t feeling well, but I will do so as soon as you’re better, Emilia,” I say in a firm voice. “Lift your arms before your tally gets out of control.”

The tremor that wracks her body as she obeys me is sexy as fuck. “Haden…” she begs. I doubt she has any idea what she’s pleading for.

I straddle her, letting her keep her thighs pressed together around her padded panties. I don’t want her to feel nervous about the possible state of her pussy right now. But I do want her to understand the extent to which I expect her to submit to me with regard to this subject.

Leaning over her, I clasp her wrists and press them into the mattress against the spread of her hair.

She’s wide awake now, eyes fully open, lips parted, panting. Her cheeks are an adorable shade of pink.

“I will take care of you in every way from now on, jitterbug. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whimpers.

“I think I’ve made that clear. I will always know when you’re going to start your period. I will watch the signs and be aware when you’re pregnant. I will buy pregnancy tests when we need them. I will hold the stick between your legs and wait with you to confirm what we will already know.”

She swallows. “Yes, Sir.”

“I will be with you at every doctor’s appointment and between your legs when you give birth. I will pamper you afterward, bringing the baby to you when he or she needs to be nursed. And yes, Emilia, I will be the one to pump your heavy breasts in between until we have so much milk stored up you could never use it all. Sometimes, I will suckle from you myself, tasting your nectar. Other times, you will kneel in front of me with your arms behind your back so I can hook you up to a powerful pump. You’ll watch as your milk is extracted, filling the bottles. So much of it that you’ll know it’s more than we could ever need.”

Her face is beyond flushed now. Her breathing erratic.

“You’re mine, Emilia. You submit to me. You will do as I say from now on. You trust me to make decisions and know what’s best for you. Nine months from now, submitting to me will come so naturally for you that you won’t question me. Sometimes your breasts will get very full and heavy. They will drip and leak through your padding and shirt, leaving wet circles. But you won’t decide when they get milked, will you, baby?”

She slowly shakes her head. “No, Sir.”

I lean back, releasing her hands, confident she will leave them where I’ve put them because she wants to please me. I hold her gaze while I gently cup her breasts and thumb her nipples.

Her lips tremble. Her pupils are blown wide. She’s the most submissive woman I’ve ever met.

“Who decides when to milk your udders, Emilia?”