21 yrold

Your captor brought you to a vaguely familiar place. The lively chatter of entities seemingly trying to entice or persuade whoever dares traverse this dark alley. You craned your head to observe your surroundings.

The brothel. You’ve been here before, you think. It’s close to the arena where you met the translator and gained immortality.

You felt a twinge of hope in your heart that this would be a place where 2718 or the translator would naturally find themselves in to try and find you. But that hope was quickly extinguished when your captor slinked into a turn, making the place unrecognisable again. The stalls you see blend in with all the others you have seen so far; you’re definitely still in the market… or the town. You actually don’t know what to call this area, but for certain, you know that it’s dizzyingly massive.

You were surprised when they gently coaxed you out of your cocoon onto the ground. Their inky black locks that were wrapped around you oh so snugly retracted back to their original positions, resting behind their back. But their hands never left your person, like a damn leash.

You observed them making gestures to the table in front of the vendor, seemingly wanting you to choose something out of the array of items displayed. They were patient, stroking your hair and massaging your shoulders as you processed and thought of what to do next. 

In front of you are… cups of some kind. They vary in shape; they vary in colour. However, they appear to be made of the same type of thick, silicone-like material. You have no idea what they’re for, but you’re sure that you’ll be here all day if you don’t make a choice. So you did, you picked one in your favourite colour and the least complicated shape. In response to that, your captor kissed you on the crown and began talking to the seller. You inspected the strange product as they fished out coins to pay for it. Doesn’t seem cheap. At least it’s fun to fidget with?

Not long after, you’re back in their hair cocoon as they weave through the crowds. To your surprise, you’re back at the brothel. Not to interact with the workers, but to disappear into a room through an obscure door near some nondescript wall. Perhaps this is their personal quarters, as it appears to be lived in. Unmade bed, vases of flowers in each corner, and some stationery scattered lightly around the modest table near the window, somewhat shrouded with some green overgrowth.

They gently laid you down on the bed, strange cup still squished in your hand. Everything is so confusing, too confusing for you to register any danger. Even after they drew the curtains shut, notably, it has some small holes and rips, allowing some streams of light to enter the mostly dim room.

Your legs dangle at the edge of the bed as you continue squeezing and playing with the cup. You watched them smile at you, albeit too lovingly for your taste. They then started cooing in tongues that you can never understand the true meaning of, but you can at least discern its intent, especially when they began approaching you. Their pace was slow, but menacing. They kept going until you were forced to scoot backwards onto the bed, and until they were on their knees and hands, straddling over you. 

Only when their shadow was completely cast over you like a blanket did you start panicking and try to escape from your immediate trap. But you should have known better than to show that you’re unwilling to play along, as they then worked their psychokinesis on you. Reducing you to nothing more than a dumb, drooling mess with how little control you have over your muscles now. It was deeply cruel of them to leave your brain completely active and coherent as they slid their fingers under the straps of your dress, slowly removing them from your body.

Your face was covered in feathery kisses as they allowed a pair of hands too many to roam downwards. You felt yourself hyperventilate for a split second out of distress before it was shut down by their abilities, forcing you to breathe normally as if nothing was wrong. You tried your best to clamp your legs shut against their psychokinesis, but the sadistic bastard pried them open with their tentacle-like hair. 

You couldn’t even gasp. You couldn’t react in any meaningful way as fingers began circling your heat, spiraling and spiraling until they found themselves at your entrance. 

They were gentle, pressing you close against them so that your chin was resting on their shoulder. Your captor kept themselves busy by licking long stripes from your collarbone up to your jaw. You can’t push them away; you can’t move; you can’t make a sound as your muscle control is apparently disconnected entirely from your consciousness. All you could do was helplessly lie there as they pump their fingers into your cunt agonisingly slow, as if they wanted to draw the torture as long as possible.

Fingers from their other hands were intertwined with yours, and the strange cup from earlier was long confiscated from your grasp. But still in sight. 

It wasn’t long before you reached your first climax, but you couldn’t move. All you can do is feel, feel your head going blank, and see static from the unwanted pleasure. Feel something leaking from your cunt.

Only then did they deem you ready. Your captor pulled away, just to strip themselves of their clothes as well. Your eyes tracked downwards; you didn’t mean to, but you were trying to prepare yourself for whatever they had in store for you. And if it wasn’t for the mental hold they have on you, you would have sighed in relief when you saw a slit in between their legs. 

They sat at the edge of the bed, using their hair to collect you and position you on their lap, legs wrapped around their waist, crotch pressed flush against theirs. You didn’t fully understand the size difference between you and them until you realised that the top of your head barely reached their collarbones. 

Though… you did notice that their nipples are puffy. They’re actually cute, pink and so soft. And against your judgement, your lips parted at the sight. They took the chance to lean slightly forward, letting the nub touch your tongue. And you automatically sealed your lips around it. As if the muscles of your cheek and your tongue had minds of their own, you started suckling. Maybe it isn’t all you; your captor had something to do with it, given how bizarre the world is with all its unexpected mysteries. At least, that’s what you desperately want to believe.

A drop. Then another. Then a constant leak of milky white sweetness came out from their nipples. The one in your mouth left a floral, creamy taste. The neglected one simply wept the delectable nectar, dripping onto your thigh. And from there, you get to understand what the purpose of that silicone cup is, as they brought it to their chest. The rim suctioned around the nipple, and you could see from its translucent material that milk was expressed. A lot of it, actually. 

You felt tremendous shame for continuing to suckle, but for one reason or another, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Mouthful after mouthful of fragrant lacteal, you enjoyed every gulp of it, much to your chagrin. 

Your captor simply sang to you, softly and lovingly. Sometimes, during a particularly forceful extraction between your teeth and the swirl of your wet, hot tongue, he would let a strangled moan of pleasure escape his lips. He quickly recovered, continuing with his soothing song, but there was that constant strain in his melodious voice. His fingers carded your hair as you fed, playing with your strands, twirling them between his digits. 

Gradually, you felt something nudging against you. Something firm and growing, warm, slick, pulsating, and inevitably too large for you, or so you thought. It’s not like you could move or push it away. So you let him fill you up, in both entrances. The only thing you could do is feed, and the more you do that, the more you welcome that fullness in your womb and bowels. His arms brought themselves around you, securing your body as he began grinding his hips against yours.

The sounds that echoed throughout the small room were obscenely erotic despite your inability to use your voice. The squelching, the stirring, the suckling, the stickiness, and the heavy breaths were more than enough for even a nymphomaniac to blush and look away. To your horror, you found yourself wishing that he would thrust into you harder, give you more. Thankfully, all you’re seemingly allowed to do is drink from him; it saves you the shame of succumbing to the urge to ask him for more. But you knew deep down that if he could truly understand you, he would be beyond happy to give you what you want. 

For each swallow, you try to focus on the milk going down your throat instead of his two cocks hitting your gummy walls at every perfect angle. You tried to squeeze your eyes shut, ignoring how humiliatingly good it felt to feel so stuffed, so unbearably full and stretched that you thought you might just get speared in half. He wiped the creaminess off your cheek with a thumb as it dribbled down from the corner of your mouth. 

At this point, he had stopped singing, instead opting to rest his lips on the top of your head. His eyes are closed in bliss as he continues impaling you from beneath.

He let out a gasp as he felt the first jolt of intense pleasure. But it’s far from finished; you could feel that the base of his cocks fattened up, as if something was coming up. However, it did nothing other than stretch you more. The cup around his neglected nipple has been filled up by now, the translucent turning opaque as some started beading out of its rim. 

He frowned, not expecting the suction cup to fill up so fast. He didn’t want it to go to waste, so he leaned a bit forward to save as much as possible into the container, carefully bringing it up to his lips. He then gulped down his own breastmilk in a hurry- without appreciating its taste or texture, or acknowledging how it is mildly floral and refreshing. Simply to empty the vessel and return it to do its job of collecting whatever he could save.

Praises after praises in a language you cannot understand filled your ears. Regardless, it simply added to the sensory overstimulation, and you couldn't help but let your eyes roll back out of extreme bliss. And there is nothing more arousing to your captor than the idea that he could make you feel this good. A filthy moan left his lips as he felt the second burst of release reach him. However, it's still not over yet.

His cocks pump themselves upwards as another massive bulge pushes itself through the shafts. You were so stretched that your hips and legs had spread open a bit more without his or your control; it's simply how much space he took up inside you.

He bit his lip, eyebrows knitted as he too felt overwhelmed by intense sexual pleasure. It was almost too much for him, almost. From the way you're tightening around his members, to how your tongue swirls around his sensitive nipple, and to how good you're taking him, you're such a sweetheart. 

You continue to drink, to feed on him. To desire him. To love him.

And that revelation was the final key, the final permission for him to let loose. A deafening moan from him ripped through the air as he felt all the tension in his body be cut, and all the pent-up adoration he had for you suddenly released. All control was lost, and he felt himself plunging into complete debauchery within your soft, small, vulnerable body.

Your heart rate spiked momentarily as your womb and bowels were rapidly stretched beyond what you thought was possible. His ejaculation was so forceful that it might just bruise you internally, but you too orgasmed at the same time. So your own high had miraculously acted as an anaesthetic against that massive, powerful burst of copious cum.

The majority of his semen couldn't fit in, so it splurted out of both holes, pouring and pooling on his lap and the bed. So much was spilling out that rivulets of creamy, thick liquid were streaming down his shins and calves.

You were utterly filled to the brim from all sides, below, and above. You felt hot, you felt exhausted, and the only thing that could refresh you was his delectable breastmilk, so you kept sucking.

And that allowed him to push one last load into you… Well, more like out of you. There was simply too much semen in you for the next burden to fit. And so, he simply made a bigger mess for himself to clean up.

And that was also the last of your strength; he noticed that you'd stopped all of a sudden. He brushed the messy hair away from your face, only to see that you had completely passed out, milk still dribbling down the corner of your mouth.

Your captor sighed in bliss before unsheathing himself from you. A thick string of slime connected you and him briefly before collapsing from its own weight. His cocks acted like a plug, so when they were taken out, the rest of his cum came pouring out. Much to his displeasure.

He had gently laid you down on your back, putting a pillow under your head so you wouldn't strain your neck.

He still admired the bulge on your lower abdomen. But unfortunately, when he tried to gently massage it, more cum oozed out of you. It then flattened itself as white pooled around your thighs. This made him pout, but he couldn't be too disappointed; he knows that you're of a much more vulnerable species. 

And that you had done impressively well for him, he knows that you would have absorbed at least some of his essence regardless of what you're made of. Your captor sighed dreamily before kissing you on the forehead, whispering sweet nothings in a tongue that's incoherent to you.

Slowly, his two cocks retracted themselves back into his sheath. Giving him a deceptively flat appearance between his legs. While he was settling back in, he carefully retrieved the collected breastmilk in the suction cup before decanting it into a pitcher he had prepared specially for this occasion.

He caressed the side of your face before hovering his lips above yours. Not long after, his tongue softly pried your jaw open, pushing apart your lips, sets of teeth, brushing the roof of your mouth, and finally past your uvula.