At His Command

Oh no.

Eric seems like a genuinely good man, and he makes my mom happy. The only issue is that he tends to talk incessantly, monopolizing the conversation to the point where you can't escape. I try to smile and nod politely as he recounts his latest story, all the while desperate to retreat to my room to pump.

My breasts are aching, and I desperately need to relieve the milk that's been building up. I've been holding it in all morning since I went with my mom to fix wedding preparations before we all went out for lunch.

Lunch was particularly uncomfortable because Eric's son, Jace, openly disapproved of the upcoming marriage. He outright called my mom a gold digger, and to my utter frustration, she simply smiled warmly at him and tried to reason with him, forcing me to back down when I stood up to defend her. Jace shot me glares throughout the meal, and I returned them in kind.

I'm relieved that we're heading to different universities—at least this summer will be the last time I have to see him until winter break. By then, I hope I'll be able to tolerate his presence for a week or two.

"And then...!" Eric continues, narrating a story about skydiving or perhaps traveling through Europe. Either way, I can't focus on his words because the pain in my breasts is too overwhelming.

Finally, my mother walks in and says she needs Eric's help choosing napkins for the wedding. I smile in relief, excuse myself, and hurry down the hall to my new room. I frantically go through two boxes, struggling to remember where I packed the pump.

Groaning, when I can't find it, I simply decide to lift my shirt and start squeezing the milk out.

Heavy liquid flow trickles down to my stomach, drenching my body, but I don't care. I simply want the relief to come.

I close my eyes and moan softly when relief finally comes. The hands squeeze my breasts, and milk continues to flow freely, relieving some of the pressure that had built up. The milk is warm and comforting against my skin as it plops onto the floor. The sound of it hitting the ground echoes in the otherwise quiet room.

When I finish with one breast, I turn my attention to the other one, my fingers finding a more sensitive spot than before. Another gush of milk erupts from my nipple, this time shooting out in a messy arc that splashes against the wall in front of me. I grit my teeth, trying to keep myself from moaning aloud as the cool air hits my overheated skin.

The milk drips slowly onto the floor, forming a puddle beneath me.

I sigh in contentedness as I keep squeezing my breasts, nearly emptying them, but a noise at the door makes my heart drop.

I turn in a flash, and I gasp when I see Jace smirking as he leans on the door.

In my haste, I forgot to lock it.

He looks down at my breasts with a dark expression and a smirk. He gives me a long stare as we both stare at each other in silence until he finally turns back and closes the door.

Oh no.

He knows.

And he hates me.

He is sure to tell everyone we know.

I'll be the joke of everyone in this new school year. What was supposed to be my new beginning? What am I going to do?