The Milky Baroness

Lorelei's Note: This story feature's a cisboy's perspective and features breastfeeding and dubious consent. In real life, consensual nonconsent kink should be practiced responsibly so it can be fun and sustainable for everyone!

"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.