Page 112 of M!lked For His Pleasure

That was the only explanation.

He must have paid a fortune for this experience.

"Who are you?" I choked out.

The alien's smile was smooth, and a shiver rippled up my spine at the sight of his sharp teeth. He lifted his martini glass to his lips and drank the contents in one smooth gulp. He sighed happily, frowned at the empty glass and then brushed his fingertip against the corner of his mouth.

"My name is Nokken," he said as he stood. He wore a black silken robe that hugged his chiseled frame and my pussy clenched as my eyes raked over his body. The robe was open at his chest and something in me ached to run my tongue over his smooth emerald flesh. "I am the CEO of Oria Corporation."

The CEO.

My eyes widened as he approached me and I sat up a little straighter on the couch.

"Your number brand is 7822," he said. "What is your name?"

I touched the metal cuff that had been punched into the cartilage of my left ear gingerly. It still hurt.

"M— Marcelle."

It sounded strange to say it out loud. No one used my name. Just my number. But I was rarely addressed, I was only pulled around by the collar around my throat.

My hand flew up to my neck.

It was gone—the heavy collar was gone, replaced by a thinner one that rested lightly on my collarbones. The metal was smooth and warm under my touch.

"Marcelle," he said. Something lurched inside me as he said my name. He extended his hand toward me. "Do you know why you've been brought here?"

I nodded and laid my hand hesitantly on his. I looked up into his dark eyes and took a deep breath. "To be milked."

"Good girl," he purred.

The shiver that ran through my body was an erotic shock to my system and I bit down hard on my bottom lip.

He reached out and brushed his fingers against my cheek and his eyes trailed over my body, coming to rest on my swollen breasts. I was overdue to be milked, and I was desperate for the release that came with it.

He inhaled deeply and I wondered if he could smell my arousal as well as the milk that leaked out from under the golden caps that had been affixed to my nipples.

His smile was smooth, and I shivered as his thumb stroked over the back of my hand.

"As you can see, I've been enjoying your... delicacy," he said and gestured toward the table where he'd left his empty martini glass. "Would you be so kind as to give me a refill?"

His hand was gentle on mine as he helped me to stand, and I kept my chin high as I walked on unsteady legs at his side.

I couldn't describe the smell of his skin, or the desperate throbbing of my pussy as I inhaled deeply. Whatever cologne he wore, it was expensive and intoxicating, and I wanted to bury my face in his chest and etch the scent in my memories.

I squeezed my thighs together and felt the wetness that had gathered between my legs as we walked toward the table.

"I've seen your charts, Marcelle," the alien said. His voice was deep and dark and rumbled in his chest and I had trouble focusing on what he was saying. "You've responded well to the treatments."

I swallowed hard. I didn't know what to say, so I stayed silent.

I hadn't asked for this.

I'd been kidnapped. Abducted by force. Forced to transform into—whatever I was now.

How could he speak about it so casually?

"The others in your group didn't fare so well," he continued. "We were quite disappointed." He paused briefly and released his hold on my hand so he could pull the empty glass toward us. "But you— You surpassed our expectations."

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