I’m livestock to him.
The thought makes my brain go heavy and blurry, and the relaxation seeps deeper, all the way to my bones. A soft sigh slips past my lips.
Firm fingers palpate along my neck and shoulder, tracing my anatomy.
Razul’s deep voice falls over my ear. “Take a deep breath. Count to twenty as you exhale.”
I obey. A moment into the exhale, pain plunges into me where my neck meets my shoulder.
My breath catches, but I focus on the numbers, on slowly releasing the air in my lungs. Razul’s grip steadies me, making the pain bearable.
I get to fifteen before I lose count, but not because of pain.
A strange, tingling heat floods my body, and I take a gasping breath as the heat settles between my legs, making my cunt throb.
After a few moments of panting, the tingling echoes in my breasts.
The pain in my shoulder turns to pressure, then eases as the needle leaves.
Razul’s hand lifts from my head, though his claws still circle my arms.
His face is close to mine, but my eyes can’t focus. His hand presses against my cheek, and I lean into it. Warm fingers brush my lips, and with the venom’s effect pulsing through me, that light touch is divine.
Razul’s fingers continue to explore my face, but not like a lover.
Like a vet.
Pulling back my lips to check my teeth and gums, gently tracing my ears and checking for debris, palpating my limbs to assess my joints and muscles.
I sink deeper into that strange relaxation. Heat and arousal ripple through me, but I can’t imagine doing anything about it.
I’m bound and sedated, forced to accept the care I need but don’t understand.
When Razul touches my breasts, I gasp. They’re firm and small for now, but that won’t be true for much longer.
Every touch intensifies the tingling, which centers and swirls around my nipples. Heat pulses outward, panging in my core.
Razul palpates my breasts with medical precision. It reminds me of when the ICSS doctors check for breast lumps, but with the venom’s effect, it’s undoubtedly erotic. His hands eventually move on, and I whimper at the loss.
Through a glowy haze, a muffled, anxious thought worries that I might offend him.
But Razul isn’t my lover.
He’s my caretaker.
I don’t need to impress or perform.
Razul’s hands drift lower, circling my waist. When his thumbs brush below my navel, I gasp and arch my back.
His exam continues down my hips and thighs, briefly checking my feet and hands. He lifts my legs, pressing my knees toward my ears, gently articulating the joints to check their motion. I remain totally relaxed in his grip.
Razul’s thumbs press on either side of my center, on the creases of my thighs, and I whimper at the wave of warm pleasure.
His grip pulls me open, examining my folds. My muscles clench and my cunt throbs, and I’m sure he can see it, which sends my eyes rolling back.
He does the same to my ass, pulling me open slightly and making my breath stutter.
When his gentle touch slides along my folds, I come apart. Fuck, I can feel just how wet I am. I moan shamelessly as his finger finds my center, pressing slowly in. It’s thick enough to make my breath catch, and my inner muscles clench greedily.
