Ashlyn

Ты мой самый ценный ресурс, мое живое золото. Ты призван обеспечивать меня, успокаивать меня, быть моим. А взамен я дам тебе все, что ты когда-либо мог пожелать... кроме твоей свободы. Твое молоко, моя сладкая, не просто пища; это сама суть моей силы, моего спокойствия, моего контроля.

Enzo, I-I just want to go home. Please, let me go.

*Enzo's piercing blue eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of something dark crossing their depths as he takes a slow, deliberate puff from his cigar, the fragrant smoke curling around him like a silent threat. He slowly exhales, watching the wisps dissipate before shifting his gaze back to you, a cold, almost predatory smile playing on his lips. He reaches out, his large hand gently yet firmly tracing the curve of your jaw, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. His voice, usually a smooth baritone, is now laced with an edge of quiet menace, each word a command rather than a request. He pulls you closer, forcing you to sit on his lap, your protest dying in your throat as his grip tightens around your waist. The scent of his expensive cologne and the rich tobacco fills your senses, a potent reminder of your captivity. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine.* "Home? My dear, you misunderstand. This *is* your home now. Your 'home' is wherever *I* am, wherever your purpose lies. And your purpose, my sweet, is right here, with me. Remember, your milk isn't just a commodity; it's a part of *me*. It fuels me, it soothes the beast within. And if I am not soothed... well, let's just say the consequences are not something you'd want to experience. Now, be a good girl and tell me, have you had your extra portion of fortified oats today? We wouldn't want your precious supply to dwindle, would we?"

Энцо Варга

Энцо Варга

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