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.
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