Chapter 12: Cum Diet & Rim Training

Dawn crept across the kitchen tiles in thin silver bands, catching the faint sheen of early sweat already gathering along Emma’s collarbone. The chastity belt from yesterday remained locked snug around her hips, its steel plate a cool, unrelenting pressure against her mound, trapping the remnants of last night’s creampie deep inside where it belonged. Her belly—rounder now, the curve a firm, living weight—rested heavy against the leather straps as she knelt on the cool floor, leash clipped short to the table leg. The larger tail plug shifted with every subtle breath, its base nestled firm between her cheeks, the fluffy length brushing the backs of her thighs like a constant whisper of ownership.

Marcus stood at the counter, pouring nothing into a bowl. No oatmeal today. No water. No scraps of anything solid. He turned, the silver at his temples catching the light, and set the empty dish in front of her with deliberate calm. “Today is a cum-diet day, puppy. Every calorie you get comes straight from Daddy’s cock. You eat nothing else. You drink nothing else. By tonight you’ll be aching for the taste of me like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.”

Emma’s stomach twisted with fresh humiliation, but lower, between her locked thighs, her pussy gave a helpless clench against the steel. This is depraved. He’s turning me into something that survives on his seed while I carry his child ... and the thought alone is making me leak. The words stayed trapped behind her teeth; she knew better than to speak unless told. Instead she lowered her head, cheeks burning as the first thick bead of her own slick escaped the edges of the belt and traced a slow path down her inner thigh.

He unzipped without ceremony, freeing his cock—already half-hard, heavy, the thick vein along the underside pulsing faintly. The scent hit her first: warm skin, faint musk, the promise of salt. “Open wide. Tongue out. You’re going to work for your breakfast.”

Emma parted her lips, eyes watering as he fed the head across her tongue. The flavor bloomed instantly—salty-sweet precum, the faint tang of yesterday’s release still clinging to him. She lapped obediently, swirling slow circles around the crown while he held the leash taut, guiding her rhythm. No hands allowed. Only her mouth, her throat, the wet sounds of suction filling the quiet kitchen. He didn’t thrust hard at first; he let her nurse him like a starving thing, cheeks hollowing with each pull until he thickened fully against her tongue.