Milked for Information

Nicole's Note: In the real world, playing with fantasies of hypnotic nonconsent requires a foundation of deep trust, as well as things like safewords and aftercare. This is a fantasy, as I hope the goblins and cowgirls make clear. ;)

Also, if you're reading this in August, please keep wearing masks and social distancing. We don't get to act like the pandemic's over just because we "got bored of it".

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Well, well, well." The buxom, leather-clad goblin maid smirked up at him, pacing a wide, careful arc around his chair—no doubt aware of what had happened to the last goblin maid who'd come too close to their captive, even tied up as he was. "What a stitchuation you've found yourself in, Sir Oriole." She brushed a lock of dark scarlet hair from her bright crimson eyes and regarded him with smoldering contempt. "Quite the, uh, what's-the-word, periling place for a mere man to find himself in."

The Vagrant Knight Sir Oriole smiled grimly, squirming only slightly in the tight silks they'd bound him in. The single lantern suspended above the two of them glinted faintly and sparked, evidence of its fading magics. "I hope you don't expect me to tell you anything, Jallzi."

The criminal made a show of innocence, putting a hand to her plump, beestung dark forest green lips, "Why, Sir Oriole! What a presumptin' thing to say!" She leaned in slightly, hands clasped behind her back "We would never expect a boy to have anything to say to us."

"Your operations are finished. People know where I am." Sir Oriole projected a casual triumph he didn't quite feel. The goblin girl gang was infamously vicious when it came to spies, and it was the honey shoes for him at best. "And besides, they'll contact the guards soon, no matter what happens to me."

"The Cherry Street Dancers can handle a few guards." She smirked. A knife seemed to materialize in her hand, and she twirled it as she continued to circle him. Her wide, lovely hips swayed from side to side with every step, the swell of her ass complemented by her shapely legs and long, pointed stilettos that clicked and clacked in an easy rhythm. "And even if not... well, all we've gotta do, see, is work out who you told, don't we? Whoever that woman is's the only real threat."

"You won't get anything out of me." He glared, not biting the hook. Though yes, he had told a woman—his old partner, Lehalia—but not because women always knew best or whatever sexist drivel this goblin minx believed. "And my contact is very well-hidden."

She shot him a sly glance. "Only as well-hidden as the willpower of one boy."

Sir Oriole smiled, in spite of his situation. He wasn't worried about that part. The torture, the brutality—the Cherry Street Dancers were infamous for it. Though he'd never seen their particular methods, he'd seen just about every method under the sun. He knew how to cope with interrogation. "Feel free to try. I look forward to disappointing you."

His confidence now was genuine, and he could tell by that hardening glint in her eyes that she knew it.

The goblin maid pouted. "I don't suppose I can get you to choose the easy way?" She batted her eyelashes. "C'mon, Ori, you know you want to. We can make it worthwhile-like, hm?"

He snorted. Goblin maids always fell back on this. The sweetness. As if a seasoned investigator like him would fall for that. Tied to a chair in a dimly-lit cell at the bottom of the base of the Cherry Street Dancers' criminal syndicate, surely she didn't expect him to just fall for the first pretty girl he saw. What a pathetic way to go. Did it ever work? "You think just because I'm a man, I'll fall to your wiles that easily?"

She smirked. "Well, you are just a man," she purred. "I bet a man, a boy, would give up anythin' with the, uh, suitin' motivations, Oriole."

He sighed. "Just stop wasting my time. I won't talk."

Her smile only widened. Jallzi raised her hand and snapped her fingers. "C'mon in!" she called.

There was a knock at the door. A surprisingly timid, soft knock, one that didn't exactly sound like it was coming from goblin maid knocking-level. Sir Oriole, despite himself, blinked, wondering what that meant.

Of course, it wouldn't matter. Sir Oriole didn't exactly meet Jallzi's stereotypes for a 'boy', with his years of training, and he smirked inwardly, looking forward to the attempt. Or, well... maybe not looking forward to the attempt, because it would no doubt be excruciating torture, but he planned to take what little satisfaction he could from the look on her face when she realized he wasn't going to crack as easily as her husband must every night.

"Yeah, yeah," Jallzi said impatiently. "C'mon in! The boy's all ready for you."

The metal door squeaked open, and a woman strode inside.

Sir Oriole stared, briefly caught completely and utterly off-guard.

She wasn't a goblin maid. She was... very much not a goblin maid.

She was almost as tall as a human woman, albeit a little on the short side, with milky-white skin and eyes as deep hazel as a forest after sunset. Her slightly flushed, freckled cheeks were plump and dimpled, complementing a pleasantly heart-shaped face. Her lips were a pale violet, and her pouty lower lip quivered a little as she regarded him. Was that sympathy in her pretty brown eyes?

For a moment, Sir Oriole just stared at her, transfixed by those friendly, open eyes.

But he couldn't ignore gravity forever. Eventually, unwillingly, his eyes couldn't help but drift... down to her...

"Thought so," murmured Jallzi slyly to his left, as his eyes settled briefly on the woman's massive, heaving, jiggling tits, barely contained in her tight black corset. He flushed and forced his gaze back up.

The woman walked into the room, hips swaying with every step. Her hair was a brilliant, beautiful shade of auburn, and a pair of distinct bullhorns rose and curved slightly up from the top of her head. She wasn't human, either. A holstaur. A cowgirl.

She blinked down at him, and again, Sir Oriole thought he saw sympathy in her gaze.

"Oh, hi," she said softly, almost sounding surprised. Her voice was like misting rain. "Hi, sweetie. What's your name?"

Sir Oriole blinked once, twice.

This was... not the vicious supervillain he had been expecting. He almost looked askance at Jallzi, but out of the corner of his eyes he could see that the goblin maid criminal was smirking, and he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of conveying his confusion to her.

"Um... Sir Oriole," he said haltingly. "And you are?"

The holstaur took a step closer. Her eyes were wide and innocent, almost... friendly. Almost adoring, actually, as she looked him over, her gaze welling with what might have been pity at his state. "My name is Heather," she said softly, coming to stand right in front of him. Closer, he noted, than Jallzi had dared come. They hadn't tied his legs. "It's so nice to meet you, Oriole."

Oriole swallowed. He had no idea what was going on, and it felt inappropriate now to make the cruel quips he had been planning. He didn't want to seem soft in front of Jallzi, though.

Actually, he thought with a pang, if only Jallzi weren't here, perhaps he could persuade this creature to his side. He'd always heard that holstaurs were as sweet as cotton candy and as harmless as falling snow. Surely this one wouldn't willingly stand by and let him be harmed.

"It's nice to meet you, too," he said uncertainly. "I, um... well, to be honest, you weren't what I was expecting, Heather."

She giggled. "Aw, what were you expecting?"

He met her eyes, trying to ignore how her breasts jiggled with her laughter. She was so close, it wasn't easy. "Well, um... someone smaller, for one."

Heather laughed, beaming down at him. "Aw, I'm sorry! Am I... overwhelming to you?" She leaned down, slightly, and gods, Oriole's heart positively pounded with need as those tits hung down, so full. She smelled... sweet. Milky. Oh, was she... oh. "Want me to come down to your level a little bit, Oriole?"

Oriole stared helplessly, briefly unsure what to even say.

"Of course he does," Jallzi purred, right in his ear. "Poor Oriole can't help 'imself around the ladies, y'know. Just a real mess. Y'know how boys are."

"Aw." Heather smiled brightly and leaned down lower into a crouching position. Oriole flushed, feeling awfully condescended to. But it was hard to complain too much. Her tits were, well, right in front of him now. "Is this better, Oriole?"

"M-Much," he croaked. "I, um..."

"So..." She cut him off easily, her voice too sweet and silken for him to argue, and he flushed but shut his mouth, "I need to ask you some questions, Oriole." Her eyes glimmered. Not that he could spare more than a passing glance for her eyes right now. "Just a couple little questions, okay?"

"Um," he swallowed. Gods, why was his mouth suddenly so dry? "Yes, um, I... I'll never, uh, talk."

"Of course he'll not," Jallzi said in his ear, voice dripping with venomous sweetness. "Poor silly boys like you can't stammer for ten seconds straight when there's tits in front of them. They just get all dumb and horny and tits-stupid, don't they?"

He flushed. Heather beamed, and he couldn't tell if she even understood that Jallzi was mocking him as she exclaimed, "That's fine! It's perfectly okay. Just let me do the talking for now, okay, sweetie?"

She batted her eyelashes. Gods, those lashes were thick. She was breathtaking. Oriole licked his dry lips. "Y-Yuh. Yeah. Sure."

No reason to talk when she would talk, after all, he told himself. He was being smart, even. Minimizing how much he had to talk. It was the best way to keep from giving anything away. Best to just stay quiet and let Heather talk.

"Good boy," Jallzi teased in his ear, though, and he shuddered with annoyance—and something else—at her smug, mocking tone, at how she acted like she was winning even when he was just doing the sensible thing. "Just gonna do everything she wants. Ev-ry-thing. Because she's a pretty girl, and you're a boy, and boys do as pretty girls say."

Gods, but Jallzi was an absolute tick. His eyes narrowed.

Heather's tits bounced as she sat down on his knee, and his eyes widened again. He swallowed dust. Okay, this was... this was, well, not exactly torture. He frankly had no idea what it was supposed to accomplish. But it was absolutely mortifying, especially with his hands bound, preventing him from reaching forward and...

No, he told himself furiously, he was not going to fantasize about groping Heather, he was just going to keep his hands where they were. He couldn't grab her tits and bounce them together. Couldn't squish and squeeze them and feel the dribbling milk he could see leaking through her diaphanous silks.

Couldn't even let his hands drift into his lap and... and under his trousers, and... and pump himself brainless staring at those... those big, milky, mind-melting udders like a milk-dumb, tits-stupid...

"Okay," Heather said sweetly, wriggling slightly to get comfortable, and he suppressed a whimper at how her tits bounced wildly, beautifully, magically at this motion. "First question, sweetie."

"Your first chance to make her happy," Jallzi hissed wickedly. "That's what you want, isn't it? Just to make a pretty girl happy?" Her voice dropped lower, huskier. "You should see how they jiggle when she's happy."

Oriole felt his cheeks burning, and he realized Heather was waiting for an answer. He managed a quiet, "Okay."

Gods, why did he sound so weak? So uncertain? He was just thirsty, clearly. His throat was just a little dry. Nothing to be done about it. She smelled so good.

"You told someone who we were," she said calmly, soothingly. "Where we were. That was really quite awful of you, wasn't it? Don't you think you owe Jallzi an apology?"

He bit his lip. "I-I—"

"No, no," she said firmly, shaking her head. "I don't want to hear any excuses. We could get in a lot of trouble, you know!" she pouted. "You had better apologize to Jallzi."

...

What?

"W-What?" he whispered aloud. In a moment of sudden brainless confusion, his words matched his thoughts.

"Apologize to her!" Heather repeated confidently. She patted him on the head. "Ooh, silly boy, don't worry. I'm sure she'll accept!"

He stared at her—or, precisely, at her hanging tits, so tantalizingly barely-contained—then shot a half-glance towards Jallzi. Sure enough, to his dread, she was grinning ear-to-ear. "Yeah, silly boy," the goblin maid teased, grasping his arm and pressing up against him. "Of course I'll accept! I know a stupid boy like you couldn't possibly have meant to do it."

"Y-You little..." he growled, temper rising beyond his dazed arousal, determined now to put this heinous minx in her place—

She kissed him on the cheek. Her lips were surprisingly soft and lush—he didn't know why he was surprised, but he realized, stunned, that he'd never really thought of Jallzi... like that. She'd always been an enemy. An adversary. A quarry. He blinked, momentarily forgetting what he'd been saying. She smirked. "You were probably just horny," she teased, and he flushed with embarrassment at how easily she'd cut him off.

"I'm..." He licked his dry, chapped lips, glancing up at Heather—trying desperately to meet her eyes, to not look at her bounteous, sinfully tempting cleavage—then back at Jallzi. "I don't... I'm not going to..."

"Hush," Heather said simply, and his mouth stopped. She leaned in, smiling beatifically. "Good boy. You're being soooo good for me." The holstaur wriggled atop his knee, and his breath caught and eyes widened slightly as he felt her plump tush scooting further up, until she was practically sitting right in his lap... "If you can just answer one little question," she said sweetly, caressing his cheek, "it's going to be so much better, sweetie. And then we can move on!"

"Oooh, yeah," hissed Jallzi in his ear, "soooo much better. Good boys know it's best to just enslave themselves to a pretty girl's big, bouncy boobies."

He gritted his teeth. "S-Stop..."

"Stop?" Heather blinked down at him, blinked those big, innocent hazel eyes. "Stop what, sweetie?"

He flushed. "N-Not you—"

She scooted closer. "You seem confused," she said softly, smiling knowingly. "Am I distracting you? I can move!"

"N-No!" he squeaked.

Wait. Wait, no, he needed her to move. He felt his cheeks burning as Jallzi giggled wickedly. He hadn't even... hadn't even realized what he was being asked, he'd just been trying to object to—he shook his head quickly. "I mean—y-yes, maybe, move," he stammered.

"You want me to move?" Her eyelashes fluttered.

"Y-Yes," he mumbled, avoiding her eye contact. She made that very easy.

"You need me to move?" she cooed, reaching up and squishing her breasts together. Slowly. Ever-so-slowly.

He struggled to think, trying to predict what she was getting at, but his thoughts were blown away by Jallzi's wicked laughter and purred, "It must be like she's mushing your thoughts when she does that, you adorable pervert. But I can't expect more from a..."

"Yes!" he blurted, desperate to drown out the last word. He knew what it was. He just couldn't bear to hear any more sexist... ravings from... from the goblin maid.

That said, the word came out a little louder than he'd meant it to, and he bit his lip as it echoed back at him.

"Aww." Heather beamed. "Okay! I can move!" Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Just... answer the question first."

He stared dumbly up at her. Oh. Gods damn it. He could still hear Jallzi's laughter echoing in his ears.

Well, he told himself, if... if it would get her off of him, give him some room to breathe... what did it matter?

It wasn't like anyone would know.

Anyone aside from Jallzi and Heather, anyways. And was that... so bad?

He shot a nervous glance at Jallzi. Her smile was positively feline.

Yes. Yes it was. His heart sank into a deep, algae-choked well of dread as he cleared his throat. "F-Fine. What's..." He shrank a little inside at watching Jallzi's grin widen. "What was the question again, Heather?"

Stall. Stalling was better. Right?

"Ooooh." Jallzi cocked her head slyly to the side. She reached forward and tickled under his chin. "Did this cute silly boy already forget?"

His brain was positively melting from the heat coursing through his cheeks. He glared fiercely, defiantly at her. He wasn't just some... some dumb giggling boytoy! He wouldn't let her treat him like one.

He squirmed and suppressed a giggle as Heather's fingers joined Jallzi's in tickling under his chin, tilting his head back for her easier access. "Aw, that's okay," Heather said, her voice silken and laced with seductive drugged sugar. "We know how forgetful boys can be."

"We sure do!" Jallzi giggled.

Oriole tried to make his glare even sharper as he tilted his head further and further back for Heather's touches. He kept his mouth shut. Just put up with it a little longer, he told himself, and then we can move on from this... whatever this is.

They weren't even interrogating him. What was this accomplishing? Did Jallzi just want to humiliate him? Well, he thought angrily, rubbing against Heather's hand to encourage more little tickling 'scritches', it wasn't going to work!

"Okay, sweetie," Heather purred, and she took his chin by the fingertips and guided him back down to stare into her sweet hazel eyes. "Here's the question, and if you get this right... I'll move. Okay?"

He hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. Anything to get this over with. Anything to get her off of him!

"Don't you think you," Heather murmured, her voice as gentle as a kitten's, "owe Jallzi an apology?"

He swallowed his pride and muttered, reluctantly, "Yes."

There was a long pause.

"Well?" Heather's voice was as soft as a snowflake's touch.

He blanched as he realized what Heather was waiting for. He looked over at Jallzi, humiliated—and hopelessly turned on, and drowning in Heather's scent, and willing to say anything if it meant freedom from her touch so he could just think straight for five seconds. "I'm... sorry."

"What was that?" Jallzi cooed. "I didn't hear him!"

"Oh, better speak up, sweetie." Heather giggled. "She didn't hear you."

He gave Jallzi a look filled with venomous burrs. "I'm sorry, Jallzi," he said, louder.

There was another long pause.

"Please forgive me," he added, stomach roiling with fury. Oh, this goblin was going to pay. But at least now he'd have some breathing room.

A smile was creeping across Jallzi's insufferably pretty face. "It's okay, cutie," she said, giggling. "I know a silly boy like you was probably just distracted by a pair of pretty tits!" Her hand crept down his chest, and he jumped slightly as he felt her hand grasp his cock briefly through his trousers and give a little squeeze. "I know how boys are."

He mouthed a hateful oath at her, and she just smirked.

"Excellent," Heather said cheerfully, and shifted slightly, drawing his attention back to her and her chest as she released his chin to adjust her chest slightly. "Okay, now my end of the deal!"

He breathed a small sigh of relief, even as she released her tits and they spilled back down, her bodice somehow seemingly even lower-cut and more revealing than before, the scent of her sweet nutmeg-tinged milk flooding the air around his swimming head...