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Translucent white—your bathwater was no longer clear. Frequent puffs of breath managed to fog up the mirror. Your hands were too tired to continue, but your chest was still full to the point it was downright painful.
How long have you been here for? Your room was out of the question when it came to doing this since it would make too much of a mess. This way, you could just watch it all go down the drain and be left squeaky clean.
You couldn’t go on like this, you needed relief. You were desperate.
So desperate, that your mind went to the person who would usually be the last solution to your problems. Surely, he would be more than eager to please.
Yeah, the classmate you’ve pushed away time and time again. The guy whose manor you escaped from—and who you should probably have a restraining order against by now (not like those would even be maintained in a town like this).
Kylar.
You reach for the drain to let the water start going down and get out the tub to dry up and get dressed. If you let the idea marinate, you would throw it in the trash.
I can’t believe I’m actually doing this, you think to yourself when you finally exit.
“Hey, stop hogging up the restroom! This is the third time this week!”
“Shit, sorry.” You cast your orphan hall mate an apologetic smile. “Won’t happen again.”
It probably will happen again.
You never thought you’d be willingly walking to Kylar’s place, but here you were. You kicked at rocks as you walked, ignoring the occasional catcalls thrown your way—your thoughts silenced them.
Fuck Remy. Fuck his goons. Fuck Harper. Bless the centaurs—they were the only ones you wished prosperity upon, but they weren’t enough to make you want to return.
Oh, but the imagery of lush green hills and cloudless skies called out to your soul. The dribbles of sweetness that rolled down your chin from the occasional apples you chose not to share remained unrivaled. Headpats and praises were handed to you every time you were good.
No!
You shook your head and tried not to fall for the deception that was forcibly drilled into your head. Collar. Riding crop. Hypnosis. Shadows looming over you when you woke up. It was terrible.
Danube street was cleaner than the one you lived on, and just a tad bit safer (not much at all, though). The houses were nicer to look at despite the envy that built up inside you. Eventually, you find a worn down path and make your way toward the forest.
His parents must be really rich. Last time you hadn’t had the time to pay attention to just how big the manor was, you were too busy escaping to care.
It gave you the creeps—it looked like it could be the main setting in a horror movie.
You heard the rustling of nearby bushes. Seconds later, you heard a series of doors slam shut. Looking up, you saw a curtain sway before quickly falling back into place.
Ah. Looks like Kylar had been stalking you as you walked to his place. Frankly, you weren’t in the mood to lecture him.
He left the front door open, what a gentleman—you didn’t even have to knock. You let yourself in, nearly tripping over some vines on the floor.
“Jesus…”
Finding his room wasn’t hard at all, not with the fast-paced footsteps you heard above you to your left. Each stair creaked as you went up, you held onto the railing just in case.
He visibly flinched when his door swung open, reclining back on his desktop chair and trying to act normal—like his hair wasn’t ruffled with leaves on top of it, like he wasn’t out of breath from trying to beat you to his room.
“Sorry for the mess…I wasn’t expecting company.”
You weren’t really here for small talk though.
“Kylar…I need you to help me.” You walk up to him and tug at his hoodie, leading him off his chair and to his bed. You didn’t have to pull him strongly at all, he was always ready to be dragged around by you like a doll whenever you pleased.
“What?! Now?” He stopped listening after the first four words. Had you forgiven him for betraying your trust? Were you coming to your senses and realizing that you belonged with him?
Kylar obediently sat on his bed, dick already hard as you straddled his lap. He almost felt like running because of the long-awaited anticipation—he wanted to touch you, badly. And you came here willingly.
He started rambling. “W-What positions do you like? Do you want me to put on some music? I have some lube in my drawer! If you’re still mad at me you can put a leash on me or use my knife!”
“What?” Oh. Right. You straddled him, this gave him the wrong idea. “Nonono, I meant something…else.”
Disappointed flashed across his face, but he nodded, not wanting to upset you anymore than he already had in the past months. This was progress, maybe you’d start liking him.
Fuck. You didn’t really think about how you’d actually bring it up. You felt a bit embarrassed for some reason—which is ridiculous considering that this guy is fucked up in the head for you.
“I um…I need you to milk me.” You tell him, voice quiet.
His face flushed, he blinked a couple times as he processed what you said. Your horns and fluffy ears had his attention, back and forth. He then felt something swish against his thighs—your tail.
“So…they’re actually real? I always thought you were just cosplaying or something.”
“Don’t act so surprised, I’m sure you already caught on by now anyway.” How could he be unaware when he practically knew everything about you through creepy methods?
“I-I…” He looks down at his sheets, idly picking at them. “I didn’t know about this, I swear.”
Ever since you got rid of the owl plushie in your room, he had been watching you directly from your window. But he had never noticed your predicament, because unbeknownst to him, you’d only been milking yourself in the restroom.
“Is that why…” He murmured to himself, thinking of the shirts he had stolen from you and how some occasionally carried a sweet smell (that didn’t align with any of your fragrances—he would know). “Never mind.”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes or no?” He copied your question out of confusion, head cocked to the side.
God, he was cute despite everything he’d subjected you to and it pissed you off.
“Will you help me?”
“Yes!” The answer slipped out naturally and all too eagerly—he was visibly shaking with excitement.
Fabric rustled, you started taking your top off.
He averted his eyes and gulped—he would drool otherwise.
“Now you’re too shy to look?” You ask with a scoff. “You didn’t seem to care when you had me naked and chained up.”
He squeaks in response, wide eyes flitting to yours before softening and trailing down to your chest. Your nipples were hard—his were too underneath his shirt, but solely from arousal unlike yours.
“A-Are you still mad at me?” His voice trembled, he didn’t want you to be upset. “Please don’t be mad.”
“I am,” you admitted quietly. “I can’t forgive you. Maybe you can start redeeming yourself, though.”
He nodded, willing to do anything for you to no longer ignore his existence. Things had been somewhat okay before he kidnapped you—you’d talk to him at lunch sometimes and would approach him at the park.
Everything would go back to normal eventually, right?
He took a deep breath before placing his hands on your chest. The warmth of your skin transferred to him and lit his face up in flames.
“Like this?” Milk started to trickle once he tweaked your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs.
“You can add more pressure,” you tell him, able to feel that he was holding back—maybe from the fear of hurting you (which was ironic for reasons you wouldn’t bring up again).
“Okay.”
This isn’t weird at all, you internally repeated that like a mantra. You shut your eyes, not wanting to see the blush on his face or the look of worship in his intense gaze.
“I was thinking breast pumps could help.” You voiced your thoughts, wanting to detach from what was actually happening—the tingling feeling building inside you wasn’t helping. “But um…I don’t like the doctor at the hospital.”
“Mm,” he was listening, but was more transfixed on the way your milk rolled down your stomach. Kylar’s mouth watered, he had half the mind to dip his head down and lick you clean.
“Was thinking maybe Sirris would have something to help, but his store isn’t open yet and I’m too ashamed to ask if he’s gotten any packages.”
Your breathing gradually grew heavier. You were turned on, much to your demise. How could you not be when your nipples were getting tugged at and pinched? Plus, it was really hard to ignore the bulge pressed up against your right inner thigh.
Don’t open your eyes, don’t open your eyes, don’t open your eyes.
But you did—and they were met with the sight of Kylar’s bottom lip tucked between his teeth, he was drooling a little regardless. When he noticed you staring, he let go.
“Can I use my mouth?” His words were slurred together.
God, yes. You weren’t thinking properly. You nodded, cradling the back of his head and pressing his face close to your chest.
His tongue flicked against your nipple before he latched onto it to provide actual suction. Your other one didn’t go neglected and was still being played with by his fingers. Pleased whimpers filled the room, mostly from him as he drank greedily from you.
“That feels good…” Your lower abdomen was heating up.
“Mmph,” Kylar liked the praise—now sucking at you with renewed determination. Somewhere along the way, his hips started rutting up against yours.
“It’s…” He pulled away with a pop and took a deep breath, “sweet.”
He positioned himself in front of your other nipple to give it the same treatment. How would he ever go back to drinking regular milk after this? Yours was addictive like candy, the taste would linger in his dreams for the rest of his life. He lost count of how many times he’s gulped.
You felt some relief for the first time in weeks, your chest was less heavy. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling on it gently. Your hips started moving too. Clouds, you were in the clouds. It didn’t matter that you were panting erratically and moaning from the touch of your stalker and were close to cumming and—
“Ow, teeth!”
“S-Sorry!” Kylar yelped, pulling away immediately and checking up on you, tears brimming at the edge of his eyes from concern. “I didn’t mean to, are you okay? I got carried away.”
You shouldn’t want to, but you really wanted to kiss him. Glazed eyes, messy chin from fluids, the dick rubbing up against you. Fuck, the need was making you lose yourself.
Your lips smashed against his—you could taste your milk.
Kylar pawed at you, hands running up and down your sides before reaching back to cup your ass. Kisses aren’t meant to be quiet by any means, but he was really kicking it up a notch by whimpering loudly into your mouth.
“I-I’m gonna…”
“Me too.”
You tried to match the pace of his hips but it was no use, he was unpredictable, the two of you were an uncoordinated mess. There was nothing sensual about it, just pure desire. The friction sent sparks flying everywhere until you saw stars.
Shockwaves of pleasure left you writhing in his arms, you held onto him tight, nails digging into his shoulders—he moaned even louder from the rough treatment. The top of his shirt was soaked from the leakage of your milk (he was never going to wash this shirt ever again).
He felt like jelly. His body fell back but he managed to keep himself upright with his forearms until you toppled over him and pushed him flat on his back.
An ache formed in his chest, Kylar was fully prepared for you to immediately get off and leave.
But you didn’t. You snuggled closer to him instead. Your horns gently rubbed against his right shoulder over and over again.
Heavy breathing filled the room for a minute before he hesitantly raised his hand to stroke the back of your head. “How did this happen to you?”
Silence was your answer. He frowned but didn’t push it—he figured it had something to do with that one week where you’d gone missing.
“I’ll kill whoever did this one day,” he whispered to you, planting a kiss against one of your ears.
You shivered, was that supposed to be romantic?
“Thanks for helping me with this.” Forgiveness still wasn’t in store for him, but you were still grateful. “I should go.”
He held onto your arm as you got up, staring at you pleadingly—but you could recognize the glint of obsession seeping through, Kylar wouldn’t be leaving you alone anytime soon after this.
“I’ll be back. Probably.”
He didn’t let go.
“Fuck…next week?”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”