Page 12 of Milk & Malice: Vadik (The Caged Hearts Pet Play #6)

Lena

His voice was everywhere. All the time.

The music.

Touching.

His lips.

Licking and sucking.

Gentle. Hard.

Talking. Always talking to me.

Every morning, he’d part my thighs.

Apply something wet.

Massage my insides.

Whisper against my breasts.

***

Then the time came.

Morning, like every morning. Music low. His footsteps soft. Gloves snapping on.

I didn’t flinch anymore.

The warmth of a sponge. The gentle lift of my breast. The pads of his fingers, stroking. Pressing. Rolling the nipple until it leaked for him.

He always spoke to me.

Sweet things. Dark things.

I’d stopped listening weeks ago.

My thighs were already parted. My body was always ready. Loose. Open.

He touched me between them.

Slick fingers. Circular motions. Whispered praise.

My sweet cow. Good girl. So full this morning.

The suction cups latched onto my breasts, drawing milk in rhythmic pulls. My body responded on its own. Always did.

I floated somewhere above it. Somewhere clean.

But then—

Then something shifted.

His thumb pressed deeper. Firmer. The circles tightened. My clit throbbed. A sound escaped me—small, involuntary. My hips twitched.

He noticed.

“Ahh. There you are, my sweet.”

His fingers moved faster. His mouth latched onto my nipple, suckling hard, timed with each pulse of the machine.

It was too much.

Too warm. Too wet. Too close.

My tail—God, the tail—shifted behind me, tugged by something I couldn’t name. Nerves I didn’t want. A response I didn’t own.

And then I broke.

I came.

Hard. Violent. Milk sprayed. My thighs spasmed. My cunt clenched around nothing. My tail twitched once. Twice.

My eyes snapped open.

I saw the ceiling. The beams.

His mouth still latched to my breast.

My body—heaving.

My face—wet.

Tears?

My voice cracked from my throat, hoarse and unused.

“No…”

His head lifted slowly. He looked at me.

Smiling.

“There she is.”

And I knew—then—I was awake.

Awake in hell.

“Do you feel your new tail, my sweet? I’ve been working your joints to ensure you remained supple while you… rested.”

The man had no shame. He stood there massaging my breasts as if he owned—

I am your Owner. I own you, my sweet. Breeding heifer. Holes. Milk production. Magnificent. Livestock.

All his words came rushing back to me.

“…and now you won’t be speaking anymore. Only moo if you want my attention.”

I stared at him and shook my head.

“No, my sweet. Your tail was the last piece, and you’re now complete. If you talk like a human again… well, let’s just say bad things will happen to you.”

What could be worse than what he’s done?

“Why don’t I introduce you to Stumpy?”

Stumpy?

He was gone, but I couldn't see where.

I looked around, lifting my head, wincing when I felt the horns. I’d wanted to touch them so many times, only to remember—I had no hands.

He returned, holding a brown sack over his shoulder. He placed it on the operating bed and wheeled it closer.

When he stepped back, I realised it wasn’t a sack.

It was the remnants of a man.

Barely alive.

A head and a torso.

Oh my God.

Nothing else.

No legs. No arms.

His chest rose in shallow jerks. The plastic tube hissed. Bubbled.

But it was his eyes that destroyed me.

Bloodshot. Sunken. Wet with misery.

Not rage.

Not madness.

Just… despair.

They locked on mine.

He saw me.

He knew.

And in that flicker of recognition, I saw everything.

What he used to be.

What he’d become.

What I would become—if I ever stopped being useful.

A gurgle spilled from his throat. His lips trembled, useless against the tube.

Not a scream.

Not a plea.

Just a breath.

A warning.

A prayer for death.

I couldn’t look away.

My mind went blank.

Until Vadik seized my chin and wrenched my face toward his.

“No,”

he snapped sharply, grabbing my chin and twisting my face toward him.

“You stay right here with me. No more disappearing acts.”

My breath came too fast.

I couldn’t slow it.

My body shook.

Just breathe.

Breathe—

But all I could see was the brown-haired man in the brown sweater.

What was left of him.

No arms.

No legs.

Only a head and chest.

A tube stuck from his mouth like a grotesque straw.

Then I felt it—

Something cold in my neck.

A pinch.

Warmth bloomed behind my eyes.

Fuzz spread through me like static wrapped in velvet.

My breathing slowed.

Nice and slow.

Everything was… nice and slow.

Wonderful.

“That is Yuri Baranov,”

Vadik said gently.

“I once tried to do the right thing and testify against him. He ordered a hit on me.”

His voice was calm.

Almost fond.

“I lived.

But my family didn’t.”

He looked at Stumpy.

“Unfortunately, the man who actually killed them didn’t last as long as this piece of shit.”

I turned my head slightly.

Stumpy’s face was caked with dirt.

The plastic tube gurgled when he breathed.

A head. A torso. A breath.

That was all he had left.

“He is my revenge,”

Vadik murmured, “and you are my sweet HuCow creation.”

His voice dropped low.

“I own you both. Be grateful for how well I’ve cared for you. Because if you cross me…”

He didn’t finish the threat.

He didn’t need to.

Stumpy.

And the human cow.

Both his.

Both mutilated.

His fingers brushed my cheek with mock affection.

A parody of tenderness.

A mockery of humanity.