“No fever, at least,” he murmured. “Was it something you ate?”I shook my head. “Drank,” I croaked.“Too much whiskey?”Fuck, he knew me....He read the look of shame on my expression and laughed.“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he said, gently taking me into his arms. He lifted me off the floor and carried me back to my room.“What if I throw up on you?”“There’s this great invention I have to tell you about, Celie,” he said, pressing his lips to my temple. “It’s called a washing machine.”I punched. Two familiar eyes moved closer. It was Pa. he moved closer. Asked her to get on top of a table on all four.“Your udders are just the perfect size to start milking. I’ve seen exactly like these somewhere. Maybe your mother or sisters?”, as his fingers started to tank and inspect her nipples that were growing with every downward pull. She felt at ease, starting to feel the tension of going in disguise put to rest. This was worth it. Her pa was milking her supple breasts without any sign of mercy.. More

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