His cock had stiffened fully by then, a cord of steel within the solid length, and Violet marveled silently at his girth. It was not the biggest cock she’d seen over the course of the past week, but it was by far the thickest, fat and heavy in her slick hands. Using both, Violet pulled down his length, reversing once she reached the head, sliding her hands up his shaft to where his balls hung plump and full, tightening her grip and pushing into his root once she’d reached the base, an action that earned another one of those unexpected hitching breaths, and so she repeated it twice more. Once she’d established a stroking rhythm, she enclosed his cockhead in her fist, sliding over the pre-come he was steadily weeping by then, twisting and squelching until his hips bucked, a strangled hiss accompanying the action.
The Clockwatchers almost never displayed any tells, never showed anything but impatience and stoicism, and sheknewit was inappropriate to feel a thrill over forcing a reaction from him, and even less so to register that thrill directly between her thighs, a tingle that ignited when he repeated the motion.
She’d lost track of how long she’d been pumping the huge cock by then, using one hand to twist over the exposed head, earning the occasional jerk from the big bull. The squelching of her lubed-up hands and the occasional sharp inhalations and stifled grunts from the minotaur above were competing with the sound of the milking machine, and when he began to subtly thrust his hide-covered hips against the padded legs of his chair continuously, Violet nearly missed the movement, expecting the over-the-top bucking that she’d witnessed from the other bulls all week. Subtle but unmistakable, the big bull pumped into her hands, chasing a victory she knew he’d catch. The thought of accidentally being splattered in a torrent of minotaur semen was enough to make her jump into action, briefly releasing the slickened, straining length to retrieve one of the sucking nozzles. Another half-groan escaped him as the bulbous head of his cock was sucked into the machine, the scrape of his hooves audible over the sound of the pistoning arm of the milker as she worked the nozzle down his thick shaft, knowing the hydraulic system would finish the job.
The smiling face of the fox-faced woman from the training video beamed from her mind then:I like to continue providing manual stimulation at this point . . .Violet swallowed resolutely, determined to do things right, before raising her hands to the huge testicles. Each one was the size of a large orange, the sac that encased them the same warm brown as his body. The seam that separated them seemed to draw in her finger like a beacon, and she traced it tentatively, earning a huff from above. The sound gave her confidence as she tested the weight of his balls, letting each rest heavily in her palms before rolling her slippery hands over them, squeezing as she did so. Another grunt as she squeezed, and then she released him for a moment, to ensure he appreciated the extrastimulation. Violet watched in fascination as his balls moved within their sac, tightening and pulling up to his body, her hands rising to meet them once more, tugging each gently, just a hint of stretch, and giving them another squeeze.
The reaction from above was immediate.
A groan he was unable to choke back, an increase in the movement of his hips, a telltale pulsing through his testicles as she pulled and rolled them, the sound coming again when the green light flared to life. She should have let go. Violet knew that; told herself she ought to do so immediately, but she was hypnotized by the way his heavy balls throbbed as he came, each spurt of his cock into the milking machine originating beneath her fingertips, and she began to squeeze them in time, helping him empty every drop.
The bottle was completely full when the light flicked to red and the suction of the machine quickly cut off. She was glad for the mask that covered the majority of her face, for she was certain she was flaming scarlet as she pulled the nozzle from his deflated cock, still fat and heavy, despite its softened state.
Taking care of the client so they could be on their way was the priority, she remembered, even over taking care of the collection bottle, and she turned to move into action before needing to be prodded. Warm cleansing wipes were used to remove excess semen from the clients’ dangling members, which she’d witnessed being done more than a dozen times at that point, but that didn’t prevent her stomach from somersaulting as she raised the wipe to clean the curiously responsive Clockwatcher, particularly when he shuddered as she gently tugged his retracted foreskin to swipe over his pink head, still sticky with his release. She didn’t strictly need to bring another of the cloths to wipe clean the big testicles, swinging looser now that they’d been drained, but she told herself she was just being thorough, before giving them a final light squeeze.
Kirime’s words about muscle memory taking over proved true as Violet deliberately turned her back on the upper level, not wanting to see the minotaur who’d caused such an inappropriate response as she squeezed her thighs together, focusing instead on the rest of her steps.Cap and weigh the milk bottle, place in cooler; unhook the collection unit and disinfect the workstation.
“First client down!” Kirime crowed once the used collection tank had been sent down the conveyor belt for disinfecting and Violet turned, relieved to see the upper portion of the room empty. “Congrats, the hard part is over!
The hard part indeed,she thought, her fingers still feeling the heft and weight of the minotaur. There was no time to reflect on the tingle between her thighs, as the next clipboard was pressed into her hands; one turning into six, and then she was pulling her last set of scrubs over her head, tossing them into the laundry cart in the locker room before she knew it. The rest of the day had passed in a whirl, several more Earners and a brand new client who seemed more nervous than she felt at that point. Violet blinked in surprise upon tapping her employee number into the tablet used for checking in and out for shifts, seeing a notation to visit the reception desk. She found herself in a short line behind two other employees, each collecting small, sky blue envelopes from the friendly receptionist. “Have a nice day!” the cheerful goblin called as she turned away from the counter, sliding the four envelopes bearing her employee number into her bag. She’d wanted to stop off at that little coffee shop she passed on her drive through town, wanted to peek into the intriguing shop windows and stroll around Cambric Creek’s little downtown . . . but she was too distracted that day, too preoccupied, shifting behind the driver’s wheel at a red light, unable to assuage the itch between her legs that desperately needed scratching.
* * *
It had been easy to put her official first client out of mind with the bustle of the day, but as she entered her apartment later that afternoon, kicking off her shoes and shedding her clothes as she moved through the rooms, the remembrance of that impossibly thick cock came back to her.
She’d planned on hauling her laundry down to the machines in the building’s basement when she got home, wanted to make a recipe she’d found scrolling on the Thrifty Kitchen page, thought maybe she’d treat herself to ice cream that wasn’t purchased from the bodega on the corner, but like her desire to explore Cambric Creek, her plans were set aside for a greater need. Instead, Violet detoured to her bedroom, flopping down on top of her comforter and slipping her hand into her panties, the last item of clothing she still wore. She was unsurprised to find herself already wet, the tingling arousal she’d felt hours earlier returning full force now that she could address it.
The panties were kicked off, dropping to the floor beside the bed as she dragged her fingers through her folds, coating them in slick and rubbing the moisture over her tingling clit, teasing back and forth until the swollen bud protruded from its hood, needy for more stimulation.
The fingers on her other hand curved, approximating the way they’d stretched around the minotaur’s girth, remembering the way she’d tightened her grip to squeeze the rigid length. She could almost feel the heavy weight of him, the solidity and thickness of him, the way his cock hardened to steel in her hand. Violet gasped, circling over her clit in earnest then, remembering that sharp little intake of breath he’d made when she’d slipped her finger inside his foreskin, his grunt of pleasure when she’d squeezed his meaty balls. She arched, sliding a finger into herself, adding a second and a third, trying to imagine how a cock that thick would fill her, would stretch her far beyond what she’d ever taken before. She’d had a few well-endowed partners over the years, but she was hardly a size queen and couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to be thatstuffed.
She thought of the slow way he’d pumped his hips, his groan when she’d worked the sucking nozzle over his cockhead, the way she’d been able to feel the building tightness and pressure in his huge testicles, the way they’d begun to throb with his orgasm just before the first eruption of his release into the milking machine. Her hips left the bed, thrusting upwards, remembering the way he’d continued to pulse as he came, each spatter of white against the side of the glass bottle felt in the way his balls throbbed in her hands. Violet clenched around her own fingers, reaching her peak as she remembered the way it had feltfeelinghis orgasm, and she was positive the rhythmic convulsions that gripped her shared the same pulsing cadence.
When it was over, she stared up at the ceiling, inhaling and letting out a ragged breath.What the fuck was that?She didn’t know why she’d been so affected by the Clockwatcher, why him, among all the other minotaurs she’d worked on that day, amongst all those she’d observed over her training? It made no sense, was completely inappropriate, and she shook the thought of him away as she struggled to sit, hands scrabbling at the bedding for purchase.He’s a client, just a nameless, faceless client, and you’ll probably never even see him again.
One head-clearing shower later, her Thrifty Kitchen recipe started and her laundry set for a double spin cycle, Violet remembered the cerulean envelopes slipped into the front pocket of her backpack as she’d left the farm. The family above her was doing another one of their stomping jamborees as she dropped into the chair at her battered little kitchen table. She’d had seven clients in total that day, four of them leaving her tips: a conglomeration of crumpled bills, tens and twenties, enough to justify getting that gourmet coffee and a guilt-free lunch to go with it . . . and one crisply folded hundred, perfectly smooth with sharp edges. There was only one client it could have come from, only one client that day who’d sported the tailoring and expensive accessories of the Clockwatchers. She could imagine the bill being pulled from a billfold or money clip that cost as much as her rent, could almost see the minotaur with the messy hair folding it in perfect thirds before grunting in response to the receptionist’s cheerful farewell.
She could pay her cellphone bill, Violet considered, without needing to carry the monthly late fee that had become her norm, the money saved from the late charge being applied to her student loan bill or the credit cards she’d been living off of, a tiny bit of ground made, but made nonetheless.An acknowledgment of being quick and thorough, that’s all.She’d trained hard, had watched her videos and studied her binder, and the tips earned were a result of her hard work and nothing more, she reminded herself repeatedly through the evening, pushing thoughts of the Clockwatcher aside. When she fell into bed, hours later, she pushed them away once more, willing sleep to find her without tossing and turning all night.
She needed to be fresh for work the next morning.