Page 89 of Milk & Malice: Vadik
Her eyes rolled. Her breath stuttered.
I grabbed her hips and used her like she was nothing but a living doll—designed for this, perfected by me. The bell kept chiming, a sweet counterpoint to the wet slap of skin-on-skinand the lewd, suctioned groan of her cunt begging for more. My fingers found her clit and rubbed circles until her moans turned frantic, gag or not.
“You want it in your pussy too?” I hissed against her cheek, biting the soft skin just below her horn.“You want both holes dripping for me?”
She nodded violently.
“Too bad. This one’s mine this morning.”
I slammed deep, holding there as I filled her with a long, punishing groan. Warmth flooded her bowels as she spasmed and gushed all over the sheets.
I stayed buried, pressing kisses to her milk-sodden skin as I caught my breath.
“My filthy, perfect cow. No heaven for us. Just this.”
She mooed for me through the gag, soft and sweet, her eyes full of bliss.
“Don’t worry, my sweet. I’ve not forgotten about your breeding hole,” I murmured, licking a stray droplet of milk.
“I always keep my promises,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her swollen udder.
Her eyes glazed, body open and obedient—every inch of her sculpted for me. For this.
I had taken the wreckage of a girl and forged perfection. Flesh, bone, nerve, and will—refined, reshaped, and claimed.
And as she squirmed on my cock, mooing through the gag, I knew there would never be another. No child. No heir.
No legacy but her.
Just the soft jingle of her bell and the taste of her milk.
That was enough.
That was everything to me.
The End.
