Milk — not quite nursing milk, just the leftover abundance of a body that had been producing it for weeks — beaded at both nipples and flung free in thin arcs with each swing, spattering the sheets, her collarbone, her chin. The silver nipple chain jerked and swung between them in increasingly wild patterns.
The man's other hand had found her left breast.
He pinched the nipple through his fingers — hard — and 'pulled', stretching the flushed peak outward as milk sprayed sideways from the pressure.
"'HIEKK~!! AH — AH — MY NIPPLE — MASTER — HAAAANGHH~!!'"The servant saw him clearly then.
