Heavy Petting

6. Vanya

6

VANYA

I stretch with a moan and slowly rouse from the heaviness of sleep, only to find myself floating naked in a pool of warm water. Am I dreaming?

A deep, soothing sound travels through me, as I drift between a dream and the waking world. A voice, calling me home. Not to the locked servants quarters in the cellar of my mistress’s manor house, but a true home. A place where I belong — where I was always meant to be.

“ Vah-nyah, ” his soft, husky rumble murmurs, while a loving touch strokes my skin and gently pulls me through the water, so my hair floats out behind me.

“I’m coming,” I say, but my voice feels groggy and hard to bring forth from my throat. I try again, scared I won’t be heard. “I’m coming.” That voice is safety and wonder, and I don’t want to be left behind, alone and afraid. Not again. “Don’t leave without me.” I panic and hurry to chase the voice, but I can’t swim.

I sink and splutter, but big, strong arms grip me tight and lift me above the water. My splashing, flailing limbs are pinned against my sides, and drowning seems a very real threat, but despite my inability to break free, my head remains above the water, where it’s being held .

Slowly, I’m turned to face my large monster hero. A series of strange images run through my head. A medical room. Being naked and unable to move or beg for more, while he pushed big, slippery things inside me, to make me feel full and wonderful while my pain faded away. I’m still naked, and I think my monster is too. Is this a bath?

He pulls me against him with a warm smile on his face. “ Vah-nyah .” He practically purrs my name. He runs his hand over my wet hair and trails one clawed finger under my chin, to tilt my face toward his. He presses his lips to my forehead in a lingering kiss that makes me flush with heat all over. “Mo bre-shay spraah .”

I gaze up at him. What is it he said? Because it felt like I love you . He’s the first being to ever make me believe such a thing is even possible, and I’m going to be very happy if he is my new master.

He continues to speak softly as he wades to the edge of the pool with me still in his arms. His legs feel strange, moving against mine in the water. Why? Does he have more than two?

I twist to look, but he chuckles, scoops me up out of the water, and sets me into some sort of seat with a bar over my lap, to help keep me inside it. He tilts it backward, to wet my hair in the water, and then rights it again, before squirting liquid soap into his hands. It smells of flowers and sunshine when he works my hair into a perfumed lather, and I almost moan with pleasure at how well his big hands massage my scalp.

His deep murmurings set me at ease, and satisfied he won’t let me drown, I relinquish my death grip on the chair and give in to his ministrations. He rinses my hair, and then begins washing my body. I’ve always done that myself, but when I reach for the soap, he firmly pushes my hand away. I try twice more, but when he fixes me with a warning look and gives a low growl, I stop and hold onto the back of the chair by my head, exposing my armpits so he can wash them.

He’s very thorough and leans in for a quick sniff and grunt of approval before moving on. He soaps my neck and collarbones, and then my other arm and armpit, before lathering both his hands and cleansing my breasts.

I think little of his intensive methods at first — understanding he must want me to be very clean so I don’t make his home dirty — but before long, I’m getting short of breath and feeling restless in my seat.

Nobody has touched me like he’s touching me. His hands massage, and his thumbs swirl. My nipples firm under the attention, and he rubs them, twisting them with slippery fingers as if to polish them to a bright shine. His eyes twinkle at me, and I know he’ll start washing some other part of me soon, but I don’t want him to stop. It’s like he’s found a secret pathway from my breasts to deep in my core, and lit it up with a hundred sparkles.

I grip the chair and squeeze my legs together, and he smiles. “En du, Spraah.” He releases my breasts and washes the water over me before soaping up my belly. He inches closer and closer to the curls of my sex, and my heart pounds so fast, I can’t distinguish a singular beat. It’s just a blur. A buzz. A thrum of anticipation, focused between my legs, where he made it feel so good when we were in the carriage.

His fingertips brush the seam of my crease, and I spread my legs for him willingly. He meets my gaze and rumbles in a way that makes my insides tingle . “Je mo en du, Spraah.” He walks his fingertips down through my curls and gently strokes the lips of my sex. I spread my legs farther, and his smile broadens.

He gets more soap and washes each of my legs, watching me closely. I giggle when he washes between my toes and tug my leg away from his tickling, but he holds me firmly and laughs until I begin screeching that I’m going to pee in his pool.

He stops immediately, rests his hand to my lower belly, and presses at my swollen bladder. “Pee?” he asks.

I blush and nod. I do have to go.

He releases the bar holding me in the chair, gathers me into his arms, and carries me out of the big, tiled bathing pool. He sets me on a nearby platform and then presents me with a chamber pot. “ Pee ,” he commands.

But my need to go has vanished, because the water isn’t hiding his body from me anymore, and he is a very large, very male monster. I was made to wash Wendell thrice a week, and his penis would always stiffen and grow, but he was human, and I am now looking at a monster penis, which is very hard not to notice. It’s easily twice as long as Wendell’s and at least six -times around. A big, fat cock.

My monster clears his throat, and I meet his amused gaze. “ Pee ,” he rumbles again in a tone that brooks no argument. I keep my eyes on him and lower myself over the chamber pot. He nods, and then we wait. And wait.

He turns on a nearby faucet, and the sound of running water hits me with its magical powers. My flow starts, and I blush under his attention. His smile makes him look so pleased, and I feel as if I’ve done something special and good, but how can that be?

It’s even more confusing when he reaches under the counter for a jar full of little crimson balls kept in a red liquid. He dips his fingers into the jar and pulls out what appears to be a small, sweet-smelling fruit. He holds the strange berry in front of my face, his fingers dripping red syrup.

My empty stomach gurgles with need, and my mouth waters with desire for this thing that looks and smells so tasty. I lean closer, and sniff at it.

He nods and presses it to my lips. “Tahg.”

I test it with the tip of my tongue, and my taste buds come alive with the flavor. I open wide to accept his gift, loving the tang of its juicy, cherry-like tartness and full plum-like taste. It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, and I’m so hungry, I can’t savor it enough before I’ve swallowed it down. I reach for my monsters fingers and suckle the juice from them.

My tongue must tickle him, because his laugh is higher-pitched than before, and it’s like music to my ears. It’s so joyful and uplifting, that I slurp and suck at his fingers even harder.

His eyes widen, and he stares at me.

I stop licking between his fingers and slide them from my mouth with a kissing sound. Did I do something wrong? His nostrils are flaring. Is he mad at me?

He pulls me into his arms, and I gasp at his strength and speed when he carries me back into the water. His body is tense and practically trembles with restrained energy. Is he angry? What’s he going to do? I can’t see a whip nearby, but he’s so big, there’s no way I could overpower him if he wants to harm me.

He doesn’t inflict any pain. Quite the opposite. He begins washing me again, holding me close as he does. He slides his soaped and slippery fingers between my legs, cleansing me with firm, circular strokes that have me dropping my head back with a pleasurable moan.

“ Mmm. Tah-nes, Spraah .” He rubs at me in the way he built all the special feelings he made me feel in the carriage.

I pant and gasp for breath as pleasure jolts through my body, and I jerk and squirm and writhe in his arms. My womanhood grips at nothing, with a sense of emptiness defined by its longing to be filled. My monster presses at me, his thick finger suggesting it could quell the yearning, and I automatically spread my legs, welcoming him to try. But he only probes at the shallows, and then soaps his hand again, to continue washing me.

He strokes between my legs, as if he knows how sensitive I feel there, and then he washes my bottom, swirling his soapy fingers in hypnotic circles that relax me. Until he concentrates his touch at my tightest hole, rubbing like he needs it cleaner than any other part of me. The things he did to me in the clinic flood my mind. His thick, slippery invasion of my most private parts was thrilling in ways I can’t quite comprehend, and my body is eager to explore those sensations again, but it seems shameful for it to feel so good. It’s naughty to enjoy such a thing, I’m sure of it. I clench my buttocks, to block him from doing it.

My monster grumbles at me, lifts my bottom out of the water, and spanks it. Not hard enough to hurt, but firmly, so I know I’m to do as he bids.

He lowers me back into the warmth and locks gazes with me, as he soaps his hand and begins again.

Trapped in the power of his penetrating gaze, I let him proceed without resistance, and the more he plays with my bottom, the more difficult it becomes to pretend I don’t like it. I’m so hot, I must be flushed all over, and I can’t seem to take a deep breath. He’s creating pleasure inside me again, and every few moments, my sex tugs at my core as if it’s threatening to ripple with more spasms.

It’s increasingly hard to stay still, and the worst part of it all, is that my body wants more. More of him making my back hole feel so good. I want to buck my hips and feel him push at me more firmly, and it’s torture to hold myself back, but I don’t want to displease him. What would he think of me if he knew my hope that he’ll wash me inside ?

He presses at my puckered hole with his soapy finger and nods. “ Surrmahd, mo spraah. Surrmahd fo Mahz-uhrr .”

His name is unforgettable, but I can only guess the meaning of the rest. My body understands him, though. It responds of its own accord, giving zero resistance when he adds pressure with his big finger. My ring blooms around him, and I whimper and pant at the stretch as he pushes inside me.

“ Je mo en du, Spraah ,” he says with a smile, as he slowly pushes in and out of my bottom. He said something like that earlier, and I think it means he is pleased. I’m also beginning to understand that I am Spraah .

His thick finger dips and drags. I shiver and squirm, and he stretches me further, pushing another inside me. At first, I can hardly breathe, but he’s so gentle and slippery, he soon probes and retreats with ease. The pleasure is incredible, and he makes everything feel even better when he grinds his palm over the sensitive bud at the top of my sex again. He’s pushing me toward a whole new pleasurable destination.

“Mar-zuarr?” I manage to blurt between breaths.

He grins, and his motions get faster and more excited. The water slaps at my skin, heightening the excitement happening between my legs. “ Mmm? ” he asks, his eyes sparkling.

I tap at my chest and gasp with every breath he’s pumping out of me with his fingers. “ Spraah? ” I ask.

“ Tah-nes, Vah-nyah ,” he says with a nod. He bends to speak right near my ear. “ Mo Spraah. ” He whispers it in a way that makes me sound incredibly special to him, and I can’t really believe it.

As if he knows I need convincing, he says it again and again, adding new words to accompany the same phrase, the meaning of which seems to amplify with the escalating pleasure inside me. He pumps at my bottom and grinds his palm into my sex. “ Je mo en foigin du, Spraah .”

My core pulls tight, poised at the cusp of intense pleasure. I tense and gasp at its rapid, inevitable approach, and his tone changes.

He says something with such authority, so much deeper and growlier, I’m driven to obey immediately, but I don’t know what he wants, and I can’t think of what it could be, because his hand has given a similar command to my body. One I can’t ignore. Overwhelmed by the powerful sensation he forces through me, I cry out. I clench and grip his fingers inside my ass, while I slide against his palm in uncontrollable bucking movements.

“ Tah-nes, Spraah. En du. En du. Za, za foigin en du .” He murmurs all sorts of things, and every one of them sounds like praise.

So happy with myself for pleasing him, I surrender to all the beautiful feelings flowing through my body, until I grow limp and can do nothing but float in his arms once more.

“ Umberree du, Spraah. Mo Vah-nyah, ” he purrs and soaps me down. Eventually, he carries me from the pool and wraps me in a giant towel so soft and fluffy, I want to live in it forever.

He gives me another fruity treat, and I suckle at his fingers again, because now I know he likes it. I lick a crimson drip from his thumb, and then take it deep into my mouth, so I can slurp all of the juice from it in one go. Mah-zuhrr makes me feel good, and I want to make him feel good too.

With a strained sigh, he slips his thumb from my mouth and grips his big cock.

Has it been hard this whole time? Is it always engorged? Does it hurt? He strokes it like it hurts. And his balls look even bigger than before. They’re very swollen, and the web of thick veins over the surface of his sac has risen significantly. The urge to trace them with my fingers is one I may not be meant to have, and I try to look away, but I can’t. I do believe they’re pulsing . As if they’re full of life.

His gaze falls upon me with a kind of longing I feel in my core. It’s the same needy ache of emptiness I had earlier. I don’t understand it, but I sense it with all that I am.

He moves in front of me, and his motion is hypnotic. He strokes his cock, thrusting into his hand. He clamps his muscular thighs at the peak of every powerful surge of his hips, and the rest of his body tenses and releases in similar ways, defining every muscle with absolute sculpted perfection. He is simply beautiful to watch, and I can’t keep from expressing my appreciation.

“You are very handsome, Mar-zuarr .” I do my best to roll my Rs , but he doesn’t seem pleased with my pronunciation.

He grips his cock hard, grits his teeth, and growls .

I squeak and get disoriented by the speed with which he scoops me up — one-handed. I squeeze my eyes shut, afraid to look at him when his body is so rigid with rage.

When he sets me down, I crack one eye open and find myself in some sort of penned area, with him staring down at me while he rubs at his cock faster than ever.

He looks flushed in his face, the skin there a darker gray than it was before, and his eyes are… hungrier? He doesn’t look angry, but I do not understand what his expression means. I want him to cuddle me, like he did before. It felt safe when he did that.

I push my fluffy towel aside and stand to reach for him over the tall side of the pen. “Mar-zuarr?”

He drops his gaze to where my breasts press at the gridded mesh barrier. My nipples have escape the pen, but the rest of me remains contained, bulging through the wire in unseemly ways. He must think it horrid, because he strides from the bathing room, depriving me of his magnificent form. I wasn’t meant to appreciate the sight of him so much.

He is abandoning me, and it feels like a punishment. He took me from one cage and put me in another.

Please come back , my heart begs, but he does not come running, and I sink back into my fuzzy towel with a shiver.

I will do better. If he doesn’t want me to admire him so much, I will keep my gaze low, unless he instructs me to do otherwise. It is so wonderful to receive all the kindness he’s shown me, and I wish only to please him. Always. I will learn to behave as I should, and he will reward me with more of his wonderful treatment.