Page 16 of Kidnapped By the Beast
T’linga giggled and nodded.
“Oh yes, quite plump! Some of our Givers say it makes them feel like their clit is tingling.”
Lexi pressed her thighs together tightly and tried not to imagine Brandt spreading her open, applying that cream with those big, capable fingers. Tried not to imagine him watching as she flushed and swelled, writhing against the table with her wrists strapped down and her legs spread wide?—
Nope.
No.
Absolutely not.
She pressed her thighs together even tighter and gave herself a mental slap.
This is research—for science. He is not touching you like that. And even if he did, you wouldn’t enjoy it.
Except her nipples were so stiff they actually ached, and she was getting damp between her thighs just thinking about it. God, she had to get her mind out of the gutter!
T’linga either didn’t notice her discomfort or pretended not to.
“Would you like to try any of our implements?” she asked brightly.
Lexi nearly choked.
“What? No! Um, I mean, no thank you,” she said quickly, not wanting to give offense. “I mean, I don’t want any of this used on me. I, uh, prefer to produce nectar on my own.”
The other woman looked surprised.
“Oh…well, of course, we always get full consent before anything is used. Don’t worry—you’ll only be subjected to what you’re comfortable with.”
Lexi gave a short, nearly hysterical laugh.
“I’m not comfortable with any of it,” she said. “Except maybe the gel. Possibly. But only if I was very drunk…or maybe unconscious.”
T’linga tilted her head curiously.
“Well, sometimes we do add the Pleasure Fruit to our wine for dinner…” she said. “But don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. Dr. Brandt seems very gentle and patient—and very large. That always helps.”
Lexi nearly swallowed her tongue.
“Helps with what, exactly?”
“Oh, just…making you feel safe when you’re tied down,” T’linga said sweetly. “I mean, I assume you’ll be restrained during your sessions—it’s standard protocol here for first-time Givers.”
Lexi could feel her pulse pounding in her ears.
Thirty-six thousand dollars, she reminded herself desperately. Thirty-six thousand.
That was how much Brandt had promised her. That was what it would take to save Uncle Herbert from getting kneecapped by that awful man named Butcher.
Thirty-six thousand dollars. To get tied up and milked and gelled and maybe spanked or…
Oh my God, what is wrong with me?
She exhaled shakily and gave T’linga a weak smile.
“Thanks. This little tour has been…very educational.”
“You’re welcome!” the other woman beamed. “And don’t worry—you’ll make a wonderful Prime Milker. I can tell!”
