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“Oh, I’m super sorry about that! We honor requests as much as we are able, but sometimes one of the employees will have a scheduling conflict that makes it an impossibility. I’m so sorry you experienced a disruption this week. Did you want to cancel your appointment?”
Yes!he wanted to roar. He didn’t want anyone else touching him, not now. This wasn’t a sexual service, not when anyone else was administering it, but it feltwrongseeing anyone but her at this point. But . . . he had worked himself up for his appointment today, as he did every week. He didn’t want to go home stiff and aching, and nothing sucked him dry like the milking machine.It’s literally just the clinical procedure if she’s not here. Like pissing in a cup. Rourke gave a heavy sigh.
“No. No, it’s fine. I’ll keep this appointment, I guess. Hopefully, we won’t have any more disruptions going forward.”
He walked bowlegged back to the milking room, feeling slightly humiliated when he had to step from his pants once more, settling against the bench.
The girl said nothing as he eased himself through the opening, hands gripping the headrest. His entire body was taut as a bowstring, so different from every other week.Get in, get out, get on with your day. Her slickened hands moved over him in an obligatory stroke, smearing him with oil. Rourke wasn’t sure if he had ever appreciated howgoodViolet actually was at this job.You’ll never be unappreciative again.
Before her, he had seen probably a dozen different building technicians; he wasn’t sure. He never paid them any mind, avoided looking down at the collection floor, and did his best to coach out of the room as quickly as possible once he was dressed. The novelty of the place had been enough titillation in the very beginning, and then he quickly found himself embroiled in his fantasies. Once his Friday milking became just another entry on his weekly calendar, it no longer mattered what the technicians were like. He was focused on leaving. Then Violet had appeared, making every tech before her seem amateur, capturing his heart alongside a flood of his semen every week.
Nowthough . . . now he could focus on nothing but the ineffectual way this girl lubed up his cock. His balls would receive no special treatment that day, it was clear. Once she’d run her lubed hands down his shaft — not nearly lubed enough, he thought — she got down to business. Her hands began a strange sort of shuffle against his shaft as if she were trying to jiggle something free.What is she doing? Does she think a quarter is going to fall out of the tip or something?
After a few moments of the continued motion, Rourke realizedthiswas her version of a hand job. She wasn’t stroking even a quarter of his length, keeping all of her efforts concentrated in the same few inches, a stiff up and down. Closing his eyes, he willed the motion to have some sort of effect on his anatomy, but after another few minutes, he began to feel like a rug burn was forming.
“Do you think you could try something else?” His voice had an edge of sharpness, but at that moment, he didn’t quite care. He was going to walk out with a blister in the last place he wanted one. “You’ve got a lot of real estate there to work with.”
He realized he should’ve been happy with the blister. She kept up the same movement, simply shifting her hands further down his shaft. His foreskin became trapped in the mindless up and down, no give to her hands. She was moving her fingers over his skin, rather than workingwithhis anatomy, paying no attention to any of his snaking veins, to the flared edge of his cock head, not even bothering to stroke his entire length from root to tip.
There was something to be said about getting to know a lot of different types of anatomy, and he knew that some of his neighbors played bedroom bingo all over town. They wanted to have the double dick naga experience, or else they wanted to be plowed by a species known for tremendous size, like an orc or an ogre. They wanted to try out a werewolf knot and let their fluid kink be tested by a minotaur. The ultimate square for some of his kinkier neighbors was hooking up with a centaur – the triple threat of firehose volume, blasting ability, and proportions.
He supposed, in a different setting, the minotaur/human pairing still had a taboo factor — they were still different species, even if bulls did originate from humans. But even removing that element of the equation, they were still dealing with familiar anatomy. A different size and girth, but the same basic structure . . . but if someone would’ve told him that this technician was seeing a foreskin for the very first time that afternoon, he would not have been shocked to hear it, for as clumsily as she was handling his.
Instead of using the sheath of skin as an aid in stroking him, she was rubbing against it, fighting its natural movement. When foreskin was tugged back sharply enough that he felt his eyelid pull along with it, he couldn’t hold in his hiss of pain. “That’s a little too rough,” he barked down in annoyance.
“Sorry about that,” the tech quickly apologized, their hands slackening a fraction too loosely, and he shook his head. This was going to take all day at this rate, and all he wanted to do was go home.This is what you get for staying without her.
“You know what, why don’t you just use the nozzle,” he called down at length, deciding to prematurely end this torture. The machine would finish him off, anditwouldn’t go out of its way to make him feel as though he had developed genital road rash.
Somehow, she even managed to make that an unenjoyable experience. His foreskin was completely retracted, and as she worked the nozzle over him, the silicone confines held the sheath of skin down tightly. His eyes stung with every jolt of the machine, an uncomfortable tug, and it was a wonder that he was eventually able to ejaculate at all.
If he hadn’t been leaving the following morning to meet with his sales reps on the opposite coast, he would have rebooked an appointment with the farm on his way out the door.Surprise her on a Tuesday, and take her to dinner on Friday after she gets off work. What could go wrong?He would be back in Cambric Creek until midweek, but he decided that a bold move was necessary at this point.
Reservations at a swanky restaurant in town for Friday night, not the vampire restaurant she’d spoken of so breathlessly, but one that he knew attracted a wide cross-section of residents with a menu to match. He could wine and dine her, get to know her, and she would get the multi-species experience she was craving.You’ll ask her out during your Friday appointment and take her to dinner that same night. No more waffling. No more waiting. Let’s get this project back on track.
Rourke was unsure what he had done to the universe for it to be conspiring against him in such a heinous fashion.
Once more, he found himself striding down the hallway to the milking room with a purposeful step, his wide hooves thudding on the tile. They had a reservation for that evening. There were flowers chilling in his refrigerator, and his wardrobe for the night was carefully laid out on the bed. He’d caught a bit more sun than normal during his trip, and as a result, his russet hair looked brighter, the trim already growing out and resting messily against his broad forehead. He felt lighter than he had in years. Hope crowded his chest, a translucent, shimmering bubble that felt as if it would float him into the sky, and he’d never been more elated and afraid.
When the technician who stepped through the door was not Violet, he felt his heart lurch, the bubble popping, crashing him to the earth in a mushroom cloud of dust and broken expectations.You’re a bull, not a bird. This is where you belong.He recognized this young woman, her glossy, solid black eyes reminding him of a doll. He asked in a tense voice why his schedule requests were no longer being accommodated and what had happened to his normal technician. A practiced, tight-lipped smile turned up at him, and he braced himself for the inevitable.
“I’m so sorry; I’m not sure who you are talking about.”
She was lying. She was the technician Violet had trained with that very first afternoon, the very first time she had milked him.
“And even if I did, I don’t know anything about the other technicians’ schedules; I’m sorry. And I wouldn’t be able to get that information out even if I did. I’m sure you understand.” Another beatific smile, leaving him no choice but to nod miserably.Maybe Lurielle and Khash want to take your reservation.
He was settled miserably on the bench, eyes closed, arms folded above him, when the lower-level door swung open unexpectedly. His cock bobbed at the intrusion, hoping it was Violet, bursting through the door to announce her presence and rescue their evening.
“What are you doing?” his technician hissed to the person who entered.
He’d not been able to raise his head in time to see them, but he could tell it was not Violet from the lack of her scent. Beneath the bench, he could hear them frantically whispering back and forth. His flagging erection had already been fully lubed, his tech only just beginning when they were interrupted.
“How on earth didthathappen? . . . Well, of course, he’s upset! Can you blame him? Collecting the deposit and making sure nothing happens to it is literally our only job . . . Wait, and you justlefthim?!”
He was only able to make out his technician’s end of the conversation, the other party mumbling too quietly for him to hear what they had done. The black-eyed young woman’s head popped out from beneath the bench, and Rourke realized her sunny voice was directed at him.
“I amsosorry; I’m going to need to step out to take care of something. Don’t worry, you don’t need to get up. We’ll have you out the door in no time!”
