Chapter Six
He climbed onto the bench with the plug thick inside him.
Lena unseated the plug, wiped him once, and buckled him face down: chest to pad, knees on the rests, arms stretched to the forward grips.
The position offered his hole and left his heavy breasts hanging free on either side of the pad edge where she could reach them.
The collar ring clicked against the leather when he turned his head.
She oiled herself and took him deep from the first stroke.
The bench creaked. Milk pattered on the floor under his chest when she reached under and squeezed.
She talked while she fucked him, complete sentences, proud and filthy: how pretty his udder looked swinging, how soft his belly felt when she reached forward to palm it, how good he sounded when he forgot to be embarrassed.
She paused fully buried and reached under to slap his cock lightly, then stroked him three times and stopped.
“Not yet. You can come only after I breed you.”
He nodded against the leather, breath wet. She resumed harder, hips snapping, one hand alternating between milking and belly-slap until he was making continuous broken noise that filled the play room.
When she came she locked deep and pulsed into him while she milked both breasts in firm pulls, white streams striping the pad. She stayed through the aftershocks, then set clamps on his nipples with careful cruelty. The pressure made him yell. Milk beaded around the metal.
“Breathe,” she said. “I’m going to open you wider now.”
She pulled free, oiled a thick plug and her own cock, and pressed the plug into him beside two fingers first, then replaced fingers with her cock so he took both.
The stretch punched white noise through his vision.
She fucked him in short deep strokes, the plug and her shaft sharing him, clamps swinging under his chest with every thrust.
“Look at the mirror.”
He turned his face enough to see the reflection: collared, clamped, belly soft against the pad, her long dark brown hair and strong body behind him, the place where she entered him. Shame and lust crashed together.
“What are you?”
“Your hucow,” he said, moaning it. “Yours. Please finish me. Please keep me.”
She removed the plug without leaving him empty long, then fucked him on cock alone until the bench rattled. She stroked his cock in time and let him come hard onto the leather, then filled him again and held him through it with her chest along his back and her mouth at his ear.
He pushed back onto her cock as far as the straps allowed.
“I want to be yours. Your hucow. Permanently if you’ll have me.”
Lena’s eyes sharpened with interest she usually kept quiet.
She unbuckled him just enough to flip him to his back on the bench, re-strapped his wrists and thighs so his knees stayed high, and entered him face to face.
Clamps still on. Collar ring under her hand.
She fucked him deep and slow at first, then harder, milking around the clamps until he moaned, then removing the clamps in a rush of blood that made him gasp and come again almost dry while she took him through it.
She came a last time deep and sealed him with the thickest plug on the shelf, then unbound him and gathered him onto the floor mat against her chest, still milking slow with both hands while he shook.
His breasts were full and heavy now. His hips wide. His belly a clear soft curve. Milk wet both of them.
“You chose this,” she said into his hair.
“I know.” His voice broke.