I've decided to make this one into a series. Elf Milk. I don't like the series title, so that might change.
As always, this can be purchased at Amazon or BN.com .
And why not include a little bit of text too:
The first breast was drained. He released it with a smack of his lips and immediately glommed onto the full tit. Again she had her involuntary reaction of recoil, then her milk started flowing and her body responded to the stimulation Gronash supplied. She had been certain upon her capture the big troll would rape and kill her. That was not the case. He needed her milk. What she didn’t expect was her growing attachment to the troll. True, he was her jailer and had only one use for her, but he showed her more affection and care than her previous owners.
She sighed heavily and rested on of her tiny hands on top of his smooth head. The other she let trail down to between her legs. A tiny scrap of material protected her modesty and innocence. Her fingers slipped under the magic cloth and caressed her nether lips. They were wet proving her arousal. The nub of her pleasure button was erect and she teased it with her fingertips before her hand was slapped away by Gornash’s meaty palm.
“Not while I feed,” he grunted at her then latched back on to her tit. She knew better than to argue. There were punishments that he had devised to keep her in line. They had largely become unnecessary lately, but there was always the threat. She nodded though he couldn’t see the motion and continued to stroke his head—that he didn’t mind. Her body continued its arousal and she absently rubbed her thighs together, waiting for him to finish his feed, waiting for him to leave, waiting for the opportunity to masturbate in peace.
What had surprised her about Gronash more so than her previous owners was his amount of self-control. He had never fucked her, had never abused her. Once she was in the possession of a troll she was certain rape and murder were in her immediate future. She had been wrong. She knew this was because the milk of a virgin elf was highly prized for its healing and other properties. It was why Dawn had been a slave her entire life, it was why she was still a virgin at the ripe age of nearly a hundred years.
“Done,” he muttered, letting go of her empty breast. She looked down and saw her chest was noticeably deflated. Gronash always insisted she stand while he fed from her. Because of their considerable height difference—he topped out over seven feet and she barely reached five—she was forced to stand on a short series of steps. She automatically assumed the position when he appeared for his evening feeding arms behind the back, chest out, back against the wall, eyes averted from his gaze. Once done with her milk he brought a bowl of her evening meal and left her in the cell.
She ignored the food and immediately got down from the steps and laid on her bed, legs splayed and both hands furiously masturbating her pussy. Now that she was alone and in relative safety she pulled off her tiny g-string leaving her wonderfully, gloriously nude. Her body was finely shaped into the epitome of elven beauty: long blonde hair tumbled down her back, pierced by her highly pointed ears. Her almond shaped eyes were angled upward following the line of her eyebrows and ears. Her skill was the purest white and not a hair grew on her body only on her head. She didn’t understand why human women grew curly hair between their legs hiding their pretty pussies, maybe when she was older hers would grow.
It didn’t take her long to cum, it never did. Once her body was excited by Gornash’s nursing she just had to finish teasing her clit hidden among the folds of her taut pussy and a relaxing wave of orgasm overwashed her body. When she was done she slipped her g-string back on and ate her food. She had to keep up her strength, her only value in life was in the magical milk her breasts produced, and once that stopped she was useless.