The Box
It's dark in the box where I'm trying sleep. Light shone through the air holes in the morning, but once the lights went out, everything went completely black. There's just enough room in here for me and my thoughts... and the girl who won't stop fidgeting. Even with my sense of sight taken away from me, there's a lot I can tell about her. I know she's a girl because of the way her body curves. Her breasts are full, fuzzy and warm. The space in our box is too small to pull away from her. We fill it in a way that one must be below another, squeezing slightly into opposite corners. Even at the maximum we can pull apart from each other, we are still locked together. My face is pressed against her cleavage in this confined space. The only long-term solution for our legs is to alternate them. My leg, then her leg, then mine again, hers again. Our crotches are squeezed against the other's thigh. Our arms intertwine around each other's backs, so they will take less space in our limited environment. My paws have somehow ended up pinned behind her head. She keeps whining and making other little noises. I think she must be a mute; everything comes out as a soft whimper.
She's been making these sounds even before we were put in this box together.
Finally, I decide that if she's going to keep me up all night, then I should at least get to be on top. I stretch my fingers out until I reach the top of her head and take hold of it. I try to use it as leverage, but she wiggles erratically the moment I pull on it, burying my face further in her oversized tits. I'm not in the mood to negotiate with this annoying mute bitch. I slide my paws further up until they reach her soft, pointed ears. Her noises get louder when I twist them. She can't get away from me this time. I crush and bend each sensitive ear to its base, forcing her downward. She finally accepts my demand and lets herself be lowered until her feet touch the side of the box. Even long after I get what I want and let her ears go, she won't stop crying out as best she can.
I'm getting tired of this little cunt. I sink my teeth into the side of her neck. Not hard enough to make her bleed. I just want her to settle down, and I don't feel like wasting my breath on her. She quivers at the grip of my fangs, and her legs shift to wrap around me. She arches herself, leaning her neck away and her boobs into me. She never once tries to fight back. If anything, she presses herself into me more and more. I feel a patch of dampness appear. This stupid bitch wet herself! I think. My frustration with her triples. The wet feeling isn't too bad at first, only a small spot, but it grows and grows. She can't seem to stop herself, until my shoulders are completely soakedâ€"
Wait, my shoulders? Oh... oh, god. She isn't wetting herself, she's lactating. Poor girl, she's so full of milk that it's leaking out of her. I cringe in guilt; I go through the same kinds of cycles as she does. I would be writhing and whimpering too if I was feeling that familiar pain in my chest. I let her neck go. She takes it as a cue to get as far away from me as she canâ€"not that it's very far away. She's in tears now. They run down to my face in small but continuous droplets. The milk keeps coming out of her without any provocation, a sure sign that she's been too long without any relief. I really can't stay mad at this girl.
"Shh, it's alright, I'm sorry," I whisper, licking at her drenched cheek as comfortingly as I can. "I know it hurts. Put your chest out and try to hold still." The pain clouds her ability to question, she immediately follows my instruction. I snake my arms out from behind her back, until I can reach the underside of her breast. I trace one paw up her left mound, letting more and more of my fingers drift away until only two remain at her nipple. She shudders when I tweak it, testing her readiness.
"You have to keep from moving, okay?" I remind her. "Let me help you get all that milk out." We're so crammed together that I can feel her nodding her head. I take each breast in the palm my paws, and hold my thumbs over the tops of them. Before she can react, I squeeze them in my paws and gently pull them towards me. They slide through my fingers, but the pressure is enough that milk comes spurting out of them both. She gasps for air, her head tilted back. I doubt she's feeling much better after one squeeze, but instinct takes over and she puffs her chest out as far as she can.
Time to go to work.
I go through the motions over and over again. She tenses at first, but as she adjusts to my touch, it becomes quite clear she's enjoying it more than she should. The milk flows freely at every little pull. I have to say that for a mute, this girl sure is noisy. After she's done gasping at each fresh squeeze, she moves on to a steady moaning. As nice as she seems, I'd rather this was over with. Trapped in such close proximity, every squirt of milk she gives off ends up dripping all over my face and neck.
Fatigue sets in. Once again I can find some irritation with the girl, for keeping me up all night to milk her dry. My advances on her breasts become more mechanical, the only measure of time passing is the squeeze-spray of my paws on her chest. I lap gently at the milk covering my face, in the hope that some taste in my mouth will keep me awake. Hmm... actually, not bad. My tongue becomes more courageous, and before I know it, I've licked my own face clean of her milk. Like a small sip of water, it only heightens my awareness of the thirst for more. Only one other place to get it, right? My paws were getting tired anyway.
"Push your chest up as much as possible," I suddenly command the girl. Lost in the throes of pleasure I've given to her, she obeys faithfully. If she pushes her boobs up and crane my neck down, I can just reach my muzzle to her... ah, there we go. I flick my tongue across the little nip in my mouth until she quakes from the sensation. She can stand it no longer, she grabs my back and forces me up against her. Her desperate whines begin again, but this time the implications are more obvious. I suckle from the girl as if her teat was a straw, still rubbing my tongue against her tender nipple. With a series of gasps that I can only amount to a small orgasm, her milk spills forth without resistance, from both breasts. It rushes down my throat, tickling my taste buds with a rich creamy sensation in the process.
It seems the effort drained my speechless milk-girl. She lays motionless for a minute, and I at still at her breast. Eventually, she puts her hands to my side and lifts me "upward," so that I might reclaim my position above her more easily. It's heartwarming that even after I had nursed at her bosom, she considers me to be the one on top. I climb above her again with a much kinder attitude towards my fellow prisoner. She stops me only to plant a light kiss on my cheekâ€"a kiss which I'm certain is her wordless way of saying "Thank you." My face nuzzles against hers as sweet sleep finally claims me...