Page 8 of Milk & Malice: Vadik (The Caged Hearts Pet Play #6)

Lena

The pain had been gradually growing over the last three days. It got to the point that I had to force myself to speak to the deluded doctor. He had been sucking on my breasts multiple times a day. If I didn’t switch off from him completely, I found that along with the ache he took away, I started to enjoy what he did.

He might be deluded, but I was fucked up.

He took my arms. My legs. Drilled into my head.

Left me to piss and shit in bags.

Peeled strips of my skin off to complete the grafts.

The fact was I was helpless without him.

My breasts throbbed and ached when they weren’t drained.

I closed my eyes against another wave of pain.

“Dr Novikov?”

“Hmmm,”

he said, but when I opened my eyes he was flipping through my chart.

“May I have some painkillers, please?”

He looked up from the clipboard with a smile.

“Of course you can, my sweet,”

he said, hooking the chart on my bed.

I watched him as he went to the other side of the room. He came back with a needle and a small glass bottle with a white label on it.

“Now I need something from you, my sweet.”

Games. Was he toying with me?

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, my sweet,”

he said as if I’d called him a monster.

He was worse.

I waited, cautious.

“You come on my fingers while you get milked,”

he murmured with a smile.

I gasped and shook my head.

“Sure, your call,”

he said, turning his back on me.

My heart fell when he put the vial and needle away.

***

“Mmm. Thicker, creamier,”

he murmured before he resumed sucking my nipple.

He kept pausing to lick around my entire nipple, torturing one then moving to the next, rotating round and round again. A slow, endless loop of torture.

Day by day, wearing me down.

Five days of pain and I was finished.

“Dr Novikov?”

His grey eyes lifted but his mouth remained latched onto my nipple.

“I need the pain meds,”

I whispered.

“Oh, my sweet. I want to give them to you, but…”

“I’ll try,”

I said, looking away from his peering eyes.

“My good little heifer,”

he said, moving down the bed.

“I’ll be gentle, my sweet.”

I closed my eyes and fought the urge to cry.

Fucking gentle.

This madman would drive me crazy.

He parted my legs and I felt the hoof prosthetic drag on the bed. I still hadn’t been able to look down there—at my lower body. Not even morbid curiosity could make me look at my knee stumps. The thought terrified me and everything would become more real than what it was.

I whimpered when I felt his fingers graze my opening.

“Shhh. Let me check my sweet cow’s cunt,”

he whispered.

“I adjusted your position so I wouldn’t dislodge the catheter. I’m not cruel, my sweet. Not unless you deserve it.”

His fingers were gloved, clinical. But the strokes were long, slow. Designed to tease.

“You’re wet already. Do you know how proud that makes me?”

I didn’t respond. I wouldn’t give him that.

Still, my cunt betrayed me.

I could feel my hole twitching, clenching around nothing as his fingers circled.

Two slid inside.

Not rough. Not fast. Just deep. Curling. Probing.

“You’re so soft here,”

he said.

“My little cow’s cunt is so greedy. What a tight little cunt you have.”

He resumed suckling on my breast while his fingers worked.

I shook. Shamed heat crawled over my scalp.

No.

Not this.

He was milking me. Fingering me. Talking like I was a fucking cow.

And my body…

My body responded like it was the truth.

“I can feel your pussy milking my fingers,”

he murmured.

“Maybe I should breed you anyway. Just to complete the illusion.”

“No,”

I croaked.

He chuckled.

“Of course not, my sweet. Not with the IUD. But that doesn’t mean you can’t act like a breeding heifer. Fuck yourself on my hand. Come like a good little cow.”

His fingers began to move faster. Wet sounds filled the room. My breasts ached. My cunt throbbed.

“You’ve got one job now,”

he whispered, breath hot on my nipple.

“To moo. To milk. To come.”

My hips jerked. I tried to hold it back. I tried to bite my lip, but the gag had been left hanging around my neck.

He sucked harder. His thumb found my clit. Rubbed. Circles. Tight and fast.

I broke.

I came hard, milking his fingers just like he said. My nipples spurted, my mouth dropped open in a silent scream.

Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.

“You’re perfect,”

he said.

“My perfect little breeding cow.”

I didn’t reply.

I couldn’t.

Because deep down, some sick part of me believed him.

***

He washed his hands and wiped his face before getting the needle and vial for me. My skin burned where he said he took the grafts from—my thighs, buttocks, and upper arms. But there was also the dull pain from my stumps and head.

I watched him measure out a dose before he injected me with it.

My eyes closed at the relief.

My shame forgotten.

All that remained was my brain and my mutilated body.