“She’ll be wantin’ the strawberry cheesecake for breakfast.”

Imon looked up from his work mopping the kitchen counter down. “Nothing to drink?” he asked tonelessly.

A giggle in response. The pretty red-haired maid shifted from foot to foot in the doorway with a wry smile. “Nay, I don’t suppose so, Imon.” She sidled closer, eyes darting to his. “Though if you’re feelin’ thirsty, I’m sure you but need ask~”

“But then who would have the wits together to bake her cakes?” Imon carefully avoided her hand as she reached for his, though he kept his tone sweet and friendly.

She smirked slightly. “Aw, dove, you’ve wits to spare.” She twisted around him and gave his butt a little pat. He flinched, turning to keep her in sight as the maid made her way to the far door. “She’ll want her breakfast in the meeting chamber.”

“I—” Imon frowned, shifting uneasily. He walked after the maid, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “Hold up, aren’t you delivering it?”

“Ay, no.” She flashed a smile up at him, filled with knowing mischief. He realized too late he’d overpursued her slightly as she leaned back, grinding her plump derriere against him briefly and almost spilling right into his arms. Instinctively, without thinking, Imon caught her. “Afraid not, Imon. This time Her Ladyship longs for you especially.”

Imon swallowed. Amelie beamed up at him, her hot body wriggling in his grasp, her softness pressing against his slightly tented trousers—not that anyone could avoid getting a little horny with the castle staff always dressed like this. Amelie wore an exceptionally scandalous maid outfit, of the kind that were in fashion right now: a black white-frilled miniskirt and fishnet top over a lazy piece that was little better than lingerie, complemented with an elegant silver choker. The latter was a gift specially from their ‘Mistress’, he knew, and one of many signs of her favor that Amelie wore along with her fashionable pair of silver bell earrings.

“M-Me?” he asked, forcing his voice to stay level, nonchalant—and yes, he stammered, but, he told himself crossly, that wasn’t exactly going to read as unusual with the maid grinding against him like this.

“Mm.” She smiled with bedroom eyes and bounced away from him with an airy laugh, her ass swinging from side to side. “Seems so, my sweet. Oh!” Her fingers suddenly went to her bright red lips, eyes widening in mock-surprise. “Of course, I’d forgotten! Our new chef hasn’t met the Mistress since he was hired, has he? Ooh, now you’re in for a treat.” She winked.

“... I expect I am,” he said coolly, turning back to wiping off the counter and trying to tune out the maid’s giggling.

So the Baroness had asked for him specifically. That wasn’t strange—he’d been producing excellent meals for the last week, and of course she’d want to meet the newest member of her staff eventually.

Nothing to worry about.

He hoped.

~ ~ ~ ~

Later that morning, Imon emerged from the kitchens, so long his sanctuary from the sensual temptations of the Baroness’s castle, wheeling his little cart ahead of him. The cheesecake smelled delectable, and the strawberry sauce steamed in its little pitcher, its scent as sweet and enticing as a nixie’s laughter. He smirked, a little proud of that—turned out he was a pretty good chef, considering baking was hardly his main line of work under normal circumstances.

But his smirk faded as he made his way through the halls, careful to keep his eyes on the cart and not on the extravagant paintings and glimmering lights—nor on the lovely ladies who sometimes greeted him as he passed by.

In fact, he was rather trying to look as dul and unappealing as possible.

He came to the greeting hall, the warmly-lit, sweet-scented entrance area where the Baroness liked to deal with guests. As he proceeded, he kept his head carefully bowed, both as a show of reverence and—privately—in the hopes that he could just deliver the ‘breakfast’ and continue back to his business without being noticed.

Not to mention, he thought uneasily, the hopes that he could avoid looking at… whatever was creating those sucking and moaning sounds coming from the Baroness’s throne.

He wheeled the cart up to the lavish valentine-paisley carpet. As he drew near, he made out a man’s gasps and soft cries, and heard wet sounds he had come to recognize well.

Briefly, he considered just leaving it there and hurrying back to the kitchen. But no, it wouldn’t do. If the Baroness realized he was trying to avoid her…

“Your... breakfast, My Lady,” he said, clearing his throat, keeping his voice soft enough to hopefully avoid being noticed while still being heard.

The sucking sounds paused.

And a sweet, angelic, melodic voice like spring windchimes called softly, “Mm? What was that, dear?”

After a pause, Imon reluctantly looked up and met the eyes of the Milky Baroness.

The holstaur lounging back in her lavishly cushioned throne did not exactly look like your typical Western Plains warlord. With strawberry red hair that seemed to positively glow in the warm lamplight, cherry-red lips as luscious as roses in bloom, and big, heavy-lidded hazel-brown eyes, she looked more like the walking image of a wet dream from Imon’s youth.

Not that, he thought, forcing his eyes to stay on hers, the face was the kind of thing he’d fantasized about back then. Even knowing the unique charms of a holstaur, even looking right at those slightly curved horns that betrayed her fey nature, he was stunned at how hard it was just to remember to keep from staring at her massive chest.

The squirming man currently nestled against her side and suckling at one breast with hopeless need had clearly struggled even more with the challenge.

“I said,” Imon said, keeping his voice very carefully level, “that your breakfast is prepared, My Lady.” He presented the cart with a relaxed smile. “It is my honor to serve.”

“Oh, thank you!” Lady Aura beamed as her eyes—slightly unfocused as the man’s suckling intensified—came to rest on the decadent meal. “How sweet!”

“It is a dessert, after all,” Imon said with reflexive wryness. He immediately shut his mouth and felt his face heating up slightly. Was he trying to get waylaid.

But to his relief, the Milky Baroness didn’t seem to notice his dumb little joke. She seemed rather distracted, in fact, as the man (Imon only now recognized him as Ayor, one of the manservants) clutched her tightly. Her lashes fluttered, and Imon saw her hands running through her current boytoy’s short dark hair. “Mm… it’s so important, don’t you think, to start the day off right?”

“Yes, Madam.” Imon gave his best patient smile. “Will… that be all?”

“Mm.” Aura wriggled slightly. Imon caught his eyes starting to drift down to her breasts, only one of which was still covered by her diaphanous negligee. “You’re quite the baker, aren’t you?”

“I am happy to serve.”

“Of course you are.” Aura smirked. “It’s Imon, isn’t it?”

“Yes, My Lady.” Imon gave a small bow. He was starting to get uneasy at the delay. Apparently Aura wouldn’t let him go until they’d finally had the introduction. Well, he’d longed to delay this as long as possible, but… “I’m new. I arrived a week ago and was hired by your majordomme.” He swallowed reflexively. That had been quite the interview. Luckily, his cover story had held.

“Ah, yes, I remember.” Aura gave him a beatific smile. “And how are you enjoying your new position, Imon?”

“Very well, My Lady.” Please let this conversation end soon. Just give me leave to go.

“I’m so glad to hear it.” Those plump red lips extended in a slight pout. “It’s such a shame we haven’t met before. I had no idea such a handsome young man was hiding away in my kitchen!”

Imon shifted uneasily as those eyes poured into him, curious, admiring. “Thank you, Lady Aura.” He kept his voice cool, but not cold. It was a delicate balance with fey in general, especially in this case—he could not let Aura suspect that his mind was completely clear of charms and suggestions, but he also could not afford to act so submissive that she got it into her head to call him over for a… a…

“Why don’t you come closer, sweetie?” The holstaur gave a wide, innocent smile. “Cut me a slice of that beautiful looking creation of yours.”

“Yes, My Lady,” Imon said with a smile that he couldn’t quite bring to his eyes as he wheeled the cart forward, stopping as close to the throne as he dared. His heart fluttered slightly as he could now make out the distinct creamy scent of holstaur milk. He heard Ayor moan softly.

“Good boy.” Aura smirked at his obedience. Imon gulped and focused his attention away from those eyes and towards the cake he was cutting. “I’ve had such a busy week, honestly. It’s been so hard to make time for my darlings.”

“Madam must attend to her duties.” Imon gave a slight smile up at her. He was good at acting interested in what his betters said, and he could tell that Aura wanted to talk right now.

“Oh, I know!” she breathed. “But… oh, I simply must attend, too, to my…” She wriggled slightly, her voice getting softer as she moved her boytoy to nurse at her other breast. “... good, loyal servants.” The man let out a happy moan, and Imon risked a glance up only to realize that she had started to… to touch him. Her long, slender fingertips stroked ever-so-daintily along her ‘loyal servant’s’ twitching cock. “After all, they do ever so much for me!”

“O-Of course, m’lady.” Imon licked his lips and turned back to the cake. He couldn’t imagine what Ayor was feeling right now. Suckling at a holstaur’s breast was risky enough—especially a holstaur like Lady Aura, famous for her intensely addictive milk that was supposedly able to render the strongest-willed foe into a docile, owned plaything even when drunk from a glass, let alone from the warm, comforting source...

… but Lady Aura was also infamous for the ease at which she could overwhelm a plaything with pleasure, how skilled her touches could be, how soft her skin was, how skilled she was at drowning her servants in pure pleasure with just one hand.

Most holstaurs didn’t seek positions of power. Most holstaurs were content to just get a couple suckleslaves to cling to and avoid notice aside from that. The Milky Baroness, though, had a particular fondness for games, for the slow reduction of her independent pets into obedient slaves—slaves as intelligent and free-spirited as ever but utterly helpless to resist her every little whim. She’d been around for a long time, by holstaur standards, and was… experienced, they said.

From the sounds of Ayor’s cries and whimpers, Imon believed every word of it.

“But as I said,” Aura giggled, “I’ve been dreadfully busy lately, sweetie. Glaze, too, dear.”

Imon froze. He’d finished cutting the slice, despite his distracted thoughts, and had been moving it to the saucer plate. He glanced up at Aura reflexively. “What?”

Aura smirked. “Strawberry sauce?”

“Oh. R-Right.” Imon cleared his throat and nodded, reaching for the warm pitcher with a smile. “My apologies, m’lady.”

“Good boy.”

Imon squirmed slightly. “You… you were saying?”

“I was saying.” Aura giggled. “I’ve been so busy lately. There’s so many matters to attend to. Paperwork, staff management, letters, expenses…”

“Of course, My Lady.” As Imon carefully drizzled on the strawberry glaze, he privately rolled his eyes, unseen to her. The Milky Baroness didn’t do paperwork or letters. Staff management, certainly—quite a lot of that one. The staff handled the rest.

“Why,” Aorta went on, “just the other day, I had to go and help the apiarists with some matters. But what fun to see the girls! It’s such a cozy space in the West Tower.”

“Of course, of course.” No doubt those matters were quite involved indeed. Imon had met the aviarists, and he had to suppress a snort at the idea of them calling the Baroness up there for any reason save one.

He hoped she finished her rambles soon, though. From the sounds of those moans, Ayor hasn’t got much longer. And I don’t want to be here when…

“Although,” Aura added with a girlish giggle, “while I was up there, I did notice…”

Mid-finished pouring the strawberry glaze, Imon went still.

“... the strangest little thing.”

Imon stayed still a moment, then, taking a deep breath through his teeth, gave a noncommittal, “Oh?”

“Oh, yes.” Aura’s hand seemed to speed up slightly as she pumped her boytoy’s cock. She smiled slyly down at Imon. “You see, a message bird seemed to be… missing.”

“Really?” Imon frowned, as if considering this. But his heart was starting to beat faster. “You mean the aviarists…”

“Oh, the aviarists seemed quite perplexed by it, too!” Aura licked her lips as her boytoy started to buck and pant. Her cheeks were starting to redden as the man’s suckling intensified. Her hand stroked up and down his shaft with indulgent, unspeakably gentle attentiveness. “Isn’t that funny, sweetie? A bird just… vanishing from the castle?”

Inwardly, Imon was cursing himself. Of course they would notice the bird being gone! How could he have been so foolish? He’d assumed the castle was so disordered they wouldn’t notice, but—but it had been reckless.

“That is funny,” he said with a little laugh, setting the pitcher down—realizing he’d rather over-indulged the slice of cake, practically drowning it in strawberry sauce. “Goodness. Do you suppose they forgot to cage it?”

“Ooh, it’s possible! They are a couple of utter ditzes.” Aura clutched the boytoy to her tighter as his cries started to quicken. “S-Still… message birds usually don’t wander so, you know. Mmm, that’s right... there’s a good boy...”

“Well…” Imon was feeling increasingly off-balance, chastened by the mistake and unsettled by the lewd display right in front of him. He couldn’t help but stare at that soft breast, watch the long, indulgent pumps of her hand… “What else do you think it could be?”

“Mm… I couldn’t imagine. Maybe… maybe…” Aura seemed a little distracted, and Imon shifted, taking advantage of this to subtly adjust his trousers. “... someone had a message to send out?”

He could tell he was being interrogated, however gently. No doubt this was why Amelie had been told to send him in after—and why Ayor had wound up in her clutches, no doubt having done a little too well in his own interrogation. Imon’s heart was racing, but his nerves were settling. She didn’t know anything about him. He was just new, and she was questioning the servants.

He might be a suspect, but he probably wasn’t the suspect.

He hoped.

He just had to get this over and done with quickly. He cleared his throat. “I wonder who it was, if that’s so”

“Mm… mm-hm, me too…” Aura’s lips parted and she started to squirm. Gods, she really was getting off on this. “H-Have you… any guesses, dear?”

“I’ve been busy in the kitchens.” He licked his lips, eyes fixated on hers. “Haven’t… met many other servants yet.”

Ayor‘s gasps rose in pitch. Gods, Aura certainly knew how to pour pleasure into someone. Imon swallowed. It was a very good thing it was Ayor in her arms and not him.

“Oh, how lonely!” She pouted sympathetically. “You poor boy. I hope everyone's been making you feel welcome.”

“They have. I just… haven’t been… wandering much.” He shrugged with a carefree smile. “I’ve been focused on work.”

“Well… as long as you aren’t overworking yourself.” She winked, and seemed to relent. “Okay, then, sweetie. Thank you very much for this delectable breakfast. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay and share it with me?” She batted her eyelashes.

The boytoy’s cries were getting louder, shallower.

Imon took a deep breath in, inhaling the sweetness of the milk, the sweetness of the cake. He swallowed again. “I should get back to work, m’lady.” He kept his tone submissive, friendly. He was so close. He was almost home free.

“Oh, very well.” She smiled. “You’re excu—”

And with a hoarse cry, Ayor came, bucking and moaning and thrashing in her arms.

Imon’s heart flew into his throat. He watched the man’s eyes close as pure pleasure flowed into him, watched as Aura turned, surprised, and started cooing, praising, continuing to milk out every last drop with long, slow pumps of her dextrous hand.

He watched as the boytoy suckled hungrily, desperately, moaning and panting and squirming in hopeless ecstasy. He watched as Aura’s eyes glimmered with wicked delight, as her ample chest heaved, as she gave the breast he was suckling a little squeeze that seemed to send more milk flowing last the boytoy’s parted lips.

There was such care in her attentions. Such delicious triumph. Such utter adoration. Such overwhelming dominance. And such pleasure in those lovely half-closed hazel eyes of hers. Her lips quivered, and Imon saw her give a nearly-silent sigh of bliss.

He stared helplessly, lost in the wanton display of lust, indulgence, decadence. Lost merely drinking in the sight of the Milky Baroness toying with her plaything. The man’s orgasm went on, and on, and on...

He only numbly registered that he was starting to… he squirmed as it fully clicked, and he tried his best to hide his hips behind the cart so she wouldn’t see.

Unfortunately, this drew the Baroness’s attention straight to him.

She gave a dreamy smile. “Mmm… oh, I’m s-sooo sorry, sweetie. How impolite of me.” She petted Ayor’s hair tenderly as he moaned softly.

“F-Fine,” Imon managed, his charming facade briefly paralyzed within him. “It’s fine, I mean. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh, no, it isn’t fine.” She frowned. “You poor thing! Having to watch such a display. It must be quite…” Her eyes glimmered wickedly. “... uncomfortable for you.”

Imon swallowed, and licked his lips.

“Ayor, dear,” she said sweetly to the still-panting man in her arms, “why don’t you go and get some rest? I’ll send the maids to check on you in a bit.”

The man nodded, red-faced. He leaned in to receive her kiss on the cheek, stumbled out, and shuffled out of the room, avoiding Imon’s eye contact.

Imon’s heart started to race as he realized he was being left alone with the Milky Baroness. He opened his mouth—but what could he say?

“Well, now, sweetie,” Aura said silkily, spreading her arms wide, “it looks like I’ve got room for you after all!”

She smirked.

Imon stood still for a half-second. But… he couldn’t refuse. He couldn’t afford to give himself away, not when he’d just made it through the interview. He just had to play along for now. Until someone else came by to take his place.

“Yes, m’lady,” he said, his voice a little weak, as he walked over and hesitantly took a seat beside her.

She immediately snuggled up next to him with a smirk. “Good boy,” she purred.

And her scent began to wash over Imon—her intoxicating creamy nutmeg-and-cinnamon sweetness. He tried not to breathe in too deeply, but… well, it was hard not to, with such a voluptuous, addictively soft woman pressed up against him.

His heart started to pound.

“Wouldn’t you like a drink?” she asked, with an innocent pout and coquettish flutter of those thick eyelashes. “I’d hate to let such a polite young man go thirsty while we chat. And I’d love to get to know you a little better.”

Imon was cursing himself internally for not extracting himself sooner, but he kept his voice casual and light. “Oh, but m’lady, it might be difficult for me to make conversation if my mouth is full.” He winked.

“Oh. I suppose so.” She sighed.

Imon jumped as he felt her soft, slender hand settle on his knee. And begin to slide up his leg.

“Well, then…” She beamed, eyes glimmering with amusement at his reaction, “... why don’t you just concentrate on answering these questions, then? And take as much time as you need.”

“Y-Yes, m’lady.”

“Oh, please, call me Miss Aura!” She wriggled closer as her hand settled in his lap, and he could swear he saw the tiniest trace of a smirk as her hand grazed over his tented trousers. “Since we’re becoming such good friends.”

Feeling a bit of wetness against his arm, he looked down and realized she was pressing quite tightly against him indeed—and one of her leaking nipples was pressed against his shirt sleeve.

The sweet smell flowed around him like he’d been dropped into a whirlpool of warm honeyed cream.

“Yes, Miss Aura,” he said softly. He licked his lips.

“Good boy.” She gave his cock a little squeeze through the trousers—and then her hand started to slide underneath them.

“M-My lady—” he stammered.

“Miss Aura,” she corrected smugly, as her nimble hand wrapped around his shaft, capturing it within her soft, warm touch. “Come now, dear, don’t tell me you’re already getting forgetful, young man. This is going to be an awfully long… conversation…” Her eyes shimmered with glee. “... if you can’t keep your senses about you~”

Imon squirmed and cleared his throat. “Yes, Miss Aura,” he said softly, taking care to keep his voice level, to keep his calm. This was fine. He’d been trained for… for just this contingency. Sure, he’d never been trained to deal with how delectably enticing her breasts looked and felt smooshed up against him, how sweet her milk smelled, her her honeyed perfume seemed to blend with aching sumptuousness with the ambrosia dripping from her breasts… how agile her wicked hands could be…

“So,” she purred, arching an eyebrow, “where were we, dear?”

“I… um…” Imon took a deep breath, unable to help himself. He just needed to steady his mind. Steady his nerves. “We were… you had… questions?”

“Yes, dear.” She giggled. Her fingers toyed along the tip of his cock. She wiggled a little closer, and he couldn’t help but notice how nicely her breasts bounced, how hot her body was against his. “So, you’ve been enjoying your time in the kitchens?”

“Yes, Miss Aura.” He gave a weak smile, trying to affect some of his smoothness in his voice. “M’lady has kept us quite busy in there, not that we mind. I’ve welcomed the ch—challenge.” he bit his lip as her other hand reached up and gave her own breast a little squeeze. Gods, she looked so soft...

“Yes,” she said softly, “we’ve had quite a varied menu lately. You’re a wonderful cook. Where did you learn so many recipes, my dear?”

“H-Here and… there.” He shifted nervously, longing to object to the stroking but not knowing how to do so without attracting her curiosity. “I’ve always liked baking, m’lady. Miss Aura.” He flushed as she pouted expectantly, and squirmed as he brightened at his correction.

Fey were ageless, creatures of the moment—even urbanized ones like Miss Aura. Like Aura. So why did he feel so... inexperienced compared to her? So vulnerable to her charms? So at a disadvantage? It didn’t help that she looked to be in her thirties, in an attractive, mature way. Like the mother of the girl next door, if the mother was an insatiable, sultry, seductive, utterly amoral temptress. She seemed to grip his will with the utmost ease, stroking ever-so-sweetly, petting his will like a beloved kitten until he just wanted to purr

He almost caught himself shifting closer to her. She was just so warm. And her breasts kept… gods, it was so tempting, so easy to brazenly stare, with them right in front of him… her voice so delicate, sensual, rippling with barely-contained giggles as if constantly amused at everything he said...

“Imon?” Aura prompted, and Imon gave a start, eyes widening. He realized he’d zoned out and missed something she’d said. “Do you… not know?”

“W-What?” Imon’s cheeks heated up. “I-I mean, um… I’m not sure. What do you mean, Miss Aura?” His facade was crumbling, he knew. He just had to keep his head, though.

“I said you’re very good at it,” she said, clearly smug. As if she knew. Of course she knew. “Baking, that is. And I asked if there were any recipes you knew that need ingredients I can provide.”

“Um…” Right, right. Cooking. Baking. Imon wracked his brains for something to say, some way to avoid just saying, no, no idea, like a fool. He cleared his throat. “Well, there’s fallberry wine cake. I meant to make it the other day, but we don’t have any…” His eyes glazed down to her breasts again, unable to help but admire how pearlescent and smooth they looked… “... any, um… fallberries around here.”

“Fallberries?”

“Yes, Miss Aura.” He managed to smile back, forcing his gaze back to hers. “They likely sell them in the market, but—”

“Those grow down south, don’t they?” Aura tilted her head with a curious look. “In the Bracken and Tallow regions of the plains?”

Imon stiffened. Stupid. Stupid! “W-Well, they grow all over,” he stammered, desperately trtying to keep the smile casual and easy-going to mask his nerves. How could he have slipped up like that? Of course he’d name the one recipe that was specifically from Tallow! “They’re very… very….” He squirmed and bit his lip—not from nerves, but from the way Aura’s stroking had just sped up a little.

“Oh, I suppose you’re right!” Aura giggled. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, making him gasp in surprise. Gods, her lips were just as soft as the rest of her. “They are a very… fertile berry, aren’t they?”

Her hand squeezed his cock, slowly stroking up to the tip, then down to the base. Imon was starting to wish he could take these trousers off—then he wondered why he’d ever want that. He couldn't want more of this treatment, could he? She’d melt him into putty if he was… was…

He licked his lips, wrenching his gaze from her full bosom, and swallowed. Her eyes were sparkling with amusement. “I’ll have the girls fetch some fallberries,” she said sweetly, her voice guileless. She caressed his cheek. “Should I send anyone in particular? Is there anyone you think would know what to look for?”

“I-I mean, I can always go buy them,” Imon said weakly. “I can…”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Aura pouted. “I didn’t mean to suggest you weren’t an expert on them.”

Imon felt his cheeks heating up. “I’m, um. Not, Miss Aura. I just... yes, we can send someone to buy them.”

“Who should I send?” Her voice oozed with sweetness as her free hand reached down, as one finger delicately twirled around a nipple, spiraling round and round, luring his gaze in...

He moaned softly as her hand stroked up his shaft. “A-Anyone,” he managed, watching that leaking nipple and licking his lips. “I d-don’t, um…”

“Right, you don’t know many people here yet.” Aura tutted softly. “Don’t worry, my sweet boy. I’ll make sure the girls stop leaving you so dreadfully lonely in that drafty old kitchen.”

Imon’s head spun. Was she… assigning people to watch him? Did she suspect him? She couldn’t. She just wanted to play with him more. Bring him more under her thumb.

He stared at the dripping nipple, his lips half-parted. “But… b-but I…”

“Hm?” She thrust her chest forward a little, and her tits bounced upward, as if inviting his greedy, lusty stare. And he couldn’t help but oblige. “But what?”

“Nnn… Nothing…” He panted, feeling the stroking of his cock starting to slowly speed up, becoming more pleasurable by the second. As if she was reading his reactions, noticing every little twitch, every gasp, every moan. A sif she was learning to make him feel better and better and better. To play him like an instrument.

“Should I send a couple maids to spend time with you, maybe?” she asked innocently, planting another little kiss on his other cheek. Imon squirmed helplessly as the pleasure started to mount. He couldn’t stop breathing in deep, and with every breath of the sweet, perfumed, pheromone-laden air… “Do you like my maids?”

Imon struggled to find his words. Somehow, he managed to slow his breathing, to give a semblance of dignity to his voice. “They’re… quite friendly. I’ve enjoyed the company of Amelie.”

“Oh, have you?” Aura teased. She leaned in over him, and Imon nearly whimpered as her fat, milk-dripping tits bounced right before his reyes, as her husky voice purred in his ear, “A lot of boys do, you know~”

She pulled back, giggling at his expression.

Imon swallowed and nodded, forcing his face to ease into a less pleasure-dazed smile. “I’d imagine! She’s—” He held in a cry as the fingers stroked tenderly over his cock’s tip. “—q-quite the flirt!”

“And what about Janza?” Miss Aura asked sweetly, her lips brushing his ear, her voice like hot, molten honey pouring right into his head. “She took quite the liking to you, as I recall.”

The tits were so close. So fragrant. All he could smell was their addictive scent. He wanted more. Her hand just kept pumping, slowly, ever-so-slowly...

“A lovely little lady,” he said, somehow keeping a single tremor from his voice. He managed to smirk slightly in memory of the majordomme, and he hoped his wryness would distract Aura from how his hips had started involuntarily bucking for a moment against her hand. “Clearly very dedicated to her work. Quite the enjoyable interview, in fact.”

“How about Passi and Pyrra?” The breasts jiggled and swayed with her soft laughter. “Aren’t they such sweet songbirds?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, they’re very friendly. Passi is—”

Imon froze.

Aura pulled back, her eyes glittering with cruel delight. She smirked slightly at the look on his face. “Oh,” she said innocently, “have you met them?”

Imon swallowed. His veneer of carelessness was gone like a rowboat crushed in the rapids, and he could only hurl himself at the nearest piece of flotsam in sight. “Th-They might have, um… maybe in the hall, once…”

“Really?” She batted her eyelashes. “And here I’ve never seen them outside the aviary!”

He stared, wide-eyed. For a moment, he fumbled for words, before managing, “W-Well, um... I think they must have, um… wanted a late-night snack. So they came to the kitchen. And I saw them there. Yes, I remember now.”

“Ah!” Miss Aura nodded. “That makes sense. They are such greedy little things.”

He nodded back, watching the tits bounce. This was bad. He couldn’t keep fumbling. She was going to… to…

“They’re always after sweet things,” Miss Aura went on with a light, airy giggle. “Poor dears. I always have to indulge them so. But do you know something, sweetie?”

He mumbled slightly. He needed to stop talking, he knew numbly. And avoid meeting her gaze. And not give her any more clues, so she couldn’t… couldn’t…

“I don’t mind,” she purred. He felt her hand on the back of his head, gently stroking his hair. “In fact… She started guiding his head down. Closer. “I love indulging my sweet, obedient darlings.”

“Um… I…” He licked his lips, staring hopelessly as he was guided closer and closer to those gorgeous, intoxicating, breathtaking tits. The hand below edged him on, keeping his cock bathed in a constant state of indulgent delight...

“And,” she went on, with a mischievous, wicked little giggle, “I think you’re having some trouble putting words together, aren’t you, sweetie?”

“Umm… mm…” He nodded meekly. What else could he say? It was getting so hard to think of more lies. And so risky. He licked his lips. And he was getting so… so...

“So, if you aren’t going to talk anyways…” Her voice flowed through him like a river of rich, creamy, honey-laced ambrosia. “... why don’t you have a drink, darling boy?”

“Nnng…” He blinked rapidly. Wait. No. This was… this was… “I… um…”

She leaned in. The breast was so, so close… “Be a good boy for your mistress, now, Imon~”

His lips parted unthinkingly. The nipple slipped in.

And without conscious thought guiding the motion, he obeyed and started to suckle.

Oh.

oh.

Imon’s eyes widened, then closed, as the most exquisite taste he’d ever experienced flowed onto his tongue. The scents didn’t even begin to describe… it was like the richest, sweetest, most decadent thing he had ever tasted, and at the same time it was intoxicating, addictive, and he only wanted more. The milk splashed on his tongue, and a warm, tingling milky haze began to immediately rise in his mind.

And Aura’s moans… Imon suckled eagerly, hearing the holstaur letting out such sweet cries, feeling her embrace around him tightening. “Oh, y-yes,” the holstaur cooed, squirming against him, “yes, good boy—th-that’s a good, good boy, s-so eager—”

The hand started to pump him faster. The pure pleasure was overwhelming. Imon’s eyes opened, and he stared helplessly up into Aura’s warm hazel gaze as she beamed down at him. Her own cheeks were getting red. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” she cooed.

He moaned and squirmed, almost delirious with pleasure.

“I thought so,” she purred, wriggling happily and pumping faster. “Boys like you are always soooo easy to toy with.”

He whimpered and gasped, head swimming with her scent. Gods, she was so beautiful, and she tasted so good—it felt so good—”

“Th—That’s right, sweetie,” she whispered, clutching him close to her chest. “Mm… drink up. Such a good, obedient boy.”

Her praise filled him even thicker and sweeter than her addictive milk. He bucked and thrashed, nodding hopelessly. He’d nod along with anything when it made him feel this good. This achingly, unspeakably good.

“You want to keep feeling good like this, don’t you, darling boy?” she cooed, pumping his cock, lifting her breast slightly to allow him to more easily meet her gaze while breastfeeding.

“Mmm…” He found himself nodding. Gods, he was senseless. All his thoughts were still there, but molten, like impossibly limp muscles too relaxed from massage to so much as flex. He stared up into Aura’s shimmering eyes and breathed her scent in deep, letting his head swim with pleasure.

“Good boy.” The praise was accompanied by another kiss on the cheek. Her lips were so sensuous, so soft. “You want to be a good boy, don’t you?”

“Mm…” he struggled briefly. No, he couldn’t say that. Except… yes, he… he was supposed to say yes, wasn’t he? To avoid… giving himself away to her…

“Hm?” She giggled at his doomed efforts at resistance and gave his cock a long, indulgent pump.

The sensation of pure, liquid ecstasy melted him like butter in her arms. He suckled desperately and gave a blissful nod. “Mm-hmmm…”

“Good boy.” Another kiss on the forehead. His skin tingled where her lips touched, making his whole head buzz with staticky delight. He knew… he knew he needed to fight, but fuck, it felt so wonderful...

“You want to be obedient.” Her voice dripped with wicked, poisonous honey, but it sounded so sweet to his ears, he could almost cum just from hearing it. “It’s soooo easy to do…” Her other hand slid down, and he felt her unbuckling his belt. “... whatever Miss Aura says, isn’t it?”

“Mm…” His mind squirmed within her grasp. No… no, he needed to… resist… right? He was getting so confused, with this much pleasure, this much praise… it was so hard to remember… to fight… “Nnn…”

“Hm? No?” She smirked. Gods, she was smiling like she already had him. She didn’t… did she? “Did my Imon say no?”

He suckled needily and whimpered, unsure. He couldn’t give himself away, but… this felt too good. Dangerously good. But he knew she was trying to… to brainwash him..

... and oh, fuck, being turned into her obedient plaything, every ounce of his wits turned towards her whims, sounded so... so hot...

“It’s hard to say no when it feels this good, isn’t it?” she asked sweetly, innocently, eyelashes fluttering. “Poor boy~”

“Mm… mm-hm…”

“You’re quite a clever man,” she cooed, pumping a little faster. “Aren’t you? Such a smart boy.”

“Mm…”

“But take a clever man,” she went on, her voice slowly settling around him, smoothly coiling around his mind like a serpent around its prey, “and put him in a pretty girl’s lap… mmm…” Her milk flowed past his lips, and he eagerly drank it down, even as he felt his will to resist being drowned in the sweet nectar, deeper and deeper by the second. “... and do you know what he becomes, my darling Imon?”

He stared up at her, squirming hopelessly in her clutches. He was getting close. He was getting so, so close, and her hand wasn’t letting up…

“A man,” she said smugly, her voice like spider’s silk, “like any other~”

Her delicate hand stroked up.

“Desperate for pleasure.”

Her delicate hand stroked down.

“Begging to cum.”

And up.

“Enslaved to his own cock.”

And down.

“Just a clever little bull in search of a mate.”

And up.

“Ready to obey.”

And down.

Imon was a wreck, blushing, moaning, bucking against her dainty touch. His mind was flowing like the tides, aimless, dreamy. He had all his thoughts to him, but none of them felt quite so important. None except… obeying…

“Sooo, sweetie,” Aura cooed, giggling at his delirious state, “I had just one or two more questions, if that’s okay.”

He weakly shook his head. No. She couldn’t… he couldn’t let himself..

“Now, now. Be a good boy and do as you’re told.” She smirked. “Because what have you learned today?”

He moaned as her hand started to pump faster.

“It’s hard to say no,” she murmured, “when it... feels this good.”

Her own eyes were starting to half-close. She was getting horny. Very, very horny. Dimly, Imon realized he could try to take advantage, but he was too far gone himself. He found himself sleepily nodding.

“Good boy~” She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. He moaned softly, feeling her either hand pulling his pants down at last. He knew that was bad, somehow, but… how could anything that felt so good be bad? “And it’s soooo easy to do what Miss Aura says, isn’t it, Imon?” Her eyes shimmered. “Didn’t you say that?”

He squirmed. He had said that, he supposed reluctantly. “Mm-hm…”

“Good boy~” Another delectable kiss. His undergarments were pulled away from Imon, and he gasped with relief as his cock sprang up into the open air. Aura smirked. “And you did tell me you want… want to be a good boy, didn’t you?

“Mmmm...” He suckled hungrily, unable to help himself. He… he had said that, he thought dizzily, and so he nodded again.

“Good boy!” Another kiss that made him moan and cry out. The silken hand was stroking faster, faster… “Such a—oh, ooh, yes—s-such a good boy!”

He panted and squirmed. He was lost. He couldn’t control himself anymore. It just felt too good. Who could resist this much pleasure? He was so close, so close—

“A-And good boys,” she purred, reaching up to give her breast a little squeeze, “get to feel soooo good, a-after all.” Her lashes fluttered. She was starting to breath heavier, he felt, pressed against her chest. Starting to pump faster and faster. Clutch him tighter. “And… a-and didn’t you say you like feeling good?”

More milk flowed into his open, gasping mouth, and he swallowed it eagerly, obediently. He wanted more kisses. More praise. More milk. More pleasure. Foggily, he realized he was being trained. Taught to associate praise with pleasure. Taught to associate obedience with pleasure.

But knowing that just made it all the more intoxicating as he gazed into the eyes of Miss Aura and she smirked triumphantly down at her obedient boytoy.

Her hand stroked up. Down. Slowly. Encouraging the words out.

“Yes, Miss Aura,” he slurred.

“Good boy,” she whispered, smiling radiantly, stroking him faster, rocking softly against him. Tiny gasps slipped from those pretty lips with every suckle, every lick. She kissed his forehead, and he moaned happily, lost to the pleasure. “Y-You went to… to the aviary, didn’t you, sweetie?”


“Mm-hm!”

“I thought so! Good boy!” Another kiss. “And—” Her voice broke to a whimper as she pulled him off, her eyes wide. “A-And why?”


“R-Reporting,” he whimpered, bucking against her hand.

“Good boy.” Another sugary-sweet kiss. “You were reporting?” She giggled. “Oh, whatever for?”

“S-Spy…” He pressed against her and nuzzled against her other breast, eliciting a soft whine. If he could just… just fill his mouth so he couldn’t speak, couldn’t give himself up entirely….

But she held him back from suckling, Her cheeks were bright, gorgeous crimson, and her eyes shone with need. But she whispered, her voice quivering, “F-For… who?”

And he could hold it in no longer. “Tallow, Miss Aura,” he moaned. He was senseless, beyond resisting. It felt too good to give in, to give it all to her. “Tallow! I’m sent t-to—”

But his words were lost in wordless cries as she pressed him to her breast, purring and moaning and giggling in senseless pleasure, and he started suckling in desperate abandon. Her hand pumped his cock faster, more and more indulgently, faster and faster and faster and—

He let out a hopeless moan of pure mindless pleasure as he came, spasming and suckling and bucking, sweet, thoughtless honey coursing through his whole body like a tsunami. He heard her cries speeding up, getting higher- and higher-pitched, and felt her whole body trembling with the intensity as she came too. They both clutched each other, senseless with pleasure, her hand continuing to stroke—to milk him for every last drop—as milk flowed endlessly past his panting lips and filled him with addictive delight.

And as the orgasm finally subsided, and he went totally limp, totally helpless in her arms, still suckling, still twitching, drowning in afterglow, he heard her near-breathless purr in his ears.

“Aww. Such a sweet plaything I’ve found. Sleep for now, my dear. Drink deeeep, and sink, and sleep, and forget.”

His resistance already in dreamland, Imon could only obey, moaning softly, lost to the drug of obedience.

He heard and felt her giggling softly against him, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly. “Such a willful man I’ve found. But just a man, in the end. I’m going to have so much fun with you. Sleep for now, my sweet. Good boy. Sleeeeep...”

Imon’s mind sank deeper, deeper. He moaned softly as rosy darkness began to creep in, and the last thing he heard was Aura’s sweet coo in his ear:

“And tonight, sweetie, I can start training you properly~”