Page 19 of Heavy Petting

I point to the picture, and then to myself as I meet my monster’s gaze. “Mahz-uhrr?”

He nods. “Tah-nes, mo spraah.” He kisses the top of my head.

That’s ayes. I’m sure of that now.

I turn back to the picture and imagine myself stuck in such a predicament. I shake my head. “Nah,” I say, the way he does when he tells meno.

He turns me to face him, strokes his finger up my throat, and gazes into my eyes. “Tah-nes.” He bows his head low and suckles at my breasts.

It feels incredible, so I’m not about to stop him, but I don’t have any milk, and I’mnotgoing to be put between some cattle-like jail bars, to be milked by a machine. I’ve enjoyed the perks of my new lifestyle, but if he tries to make me do that, I’ll try to escape. He hasn’t shackled me the way my old Mistress used to.

He gives a sharp tug at my breast, and I instinctively rub myself along his slippery cock as I moan. It’s like he’s pulling pleasure through my breast from my core — like all the beautiful sensations he makes me feel areconnected. He pulls off my breast to watch me squirm, and then latches on to the other one and pulls just as fiercely with his suction.

The bulbous tip of his cock is shaped sort of like the thermometer he used in my ass, and I can’t seem to keep myselffrom thrusting at it. The damp, sueded surface rubs against my sex in the most compelling way, and I love how juicy it gets between us when he leaks his fluid directly onto me.

He stops sucking at my breasts and stares at me with eyes so dark and hungry, they make me shiver. “Tah-nes,” he says in a tone that invites no argument. “Mahz-uhrrvolmaleshdi es Vah-nyah-Spraah.”

I glance at my breasts, and he does too. He’s made my nipples swell to twice their usual size and turned them a deep shade of crimson. They’re still pulsing from the sensation of his suction, and it’s hard to catch my breath, because my sex is pulsing too. It practically throbs with need. Again. Being milked will bring me pleasure?

What is hedoingto me?

“Tah-nes?” he asks.

I nod. “Tah-nes, Mahz-uhrr.”

His face softens. He smiles and caresses my chin. “Je mo en du, Spraah.”

His praising tone makes me flush with warmth, and he grips my hips and grinds me against his big cock, making my sex slurp with our combined wetness until more of his fluid bursts forth and bubbles into me.

I jerk my pelvis, chasing the friction of my pleasure, and the massive head of his cock nudges hard against my slippery sex.

A maddening, frenzy-inducing stretch pushes at my entrance, like he’s trying to force his cock inside me.

But he doesn’t.

He keeps himself pressed hard against me, rubs at my sensitive little bud, and watches with a smile while I shake and shudder and cry out another release of the pleasure he’s built inside me.

I collapse against his chest, limp, and he folds his big arms around me protectively.

“En du, Spraah. Slumburdy nor.” He rubs my back, and waves of sleepiness wash over me, until I drift out to sea with them.

I wake alonein my cozy nest-like bed, and when I peek over the side, I see my monster working hard at his desk. His quill scratches at the parchment with speed and aggression. What’s he writing about? What is it my monster does for a living?

He is very kind, pleases me in wonderful ways, and has medical knowledge, but I don’t know what to make of his office or his collection of quills. He has barely left my side since he found me, giving me all the love and attention I could need, but I have done nothing in the way of serving him.

I tilt my head as I study him. He hasn’t expected me to wait on him or cater to his needs like a servant. He’s treated me as if I’m special and require extra care, and most strangely, he seems to simply want me around. It’s a nice feeling, to be wanted. When I was dropped on the doorstep of my mistress’s home as a child, I was veryunwanted, but apart from the moments when he obviously needs his space, Mahz-uhrr acts as if he enjoys me very much. I’m more of a companion to him. One he’d like tomilk.

I look down at my breasts. Are they bigger? They feel bigger, but they’re definitely not milky. How does he expect to pump milk from me? I give one of my nipples a squeezing stroke, but no white liquid shoots out the way it would from a cow. Don’t only mothers make milk? I’m not a mother. Does he want to make me one? How?

I lean against the side of my bed, watching his hand write. Will he make me marry a man? I don’t want to do that. Men are mean to me. I want to stay here. With him.

I glance around my new home. It’s warm, it smells nice, and there are lots of things to see.

I climb out of my nest and wander over to the bookshelf.

“Kung, Spraah.” Mahz-uhrr follows and picks me up. He sits me on his desk andboopsmy nose, before he snuggles me to his chest.

He’s put on fresh trousers while I slept, but I’m still very naked. I reach down and tug at the fabric of his pants. “Do I get clothes?” I ask.

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