Sentenced to the Farm: A Hucow Erotic Romance Novella (Future Hucow Farm Book 4) by Moose Sally

Author:Moose, Sally
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-10-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

The room feels empty without him. I pace back and forth, the silence pressing in on me, every step echoing in the emptiness. Blazebird is gone, "business," they said, but that doesn't make the knot in my stomach any looser. My breasts are swollen, aching with the fullness that hasn't been relieved. The discomfort is almost unbearable now, each movement causing a dull throb that radiates through my chest. There was no milking session this morning, no familiar hum of the machine, no touch to ease the pressure. Just silence. Just emptiness. I feel trapped in this silence, with nothing but the ache to keep me company.

I try not to think about it, but the pain is a constant reminder. My body feels heavy, almost foreign, the weight of my swollen breasts making every movement uncomfortable. I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands resting on my thighs, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The air feels thick, suffocating, and I can almost hear my heart pounding in the quiet. I don’t know when he’ll be back, and the thought plagues me, eating away at my already fragile resolve. I hate that I need him, hate that I’ve come to depend on his presence, his touch. The thought of being without him leaves me feeling hollow, like there’s a void inside me that only he can fill. But it’s true. I need him, and it terrifies me.

I leave my quarters, hoping to find someone who can help. The farmhands are out in the yard, moving with a purpose that makes me feel even more lost. I approach one of them—a man I’ve seen before but never spoken to—and he barely glances at me, his eyes sliding away as if I’m not even there. I swallow hard, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice as I ask about Blazebird. He shrugs, his expression indifferent.

“He’s gone for business,” he says again, then turns away before I can say anything else. There’s a finality in his tone, a dismissal that leaves me standing there, feeling small and stupid. I turn and walk away, my chest tight, my hands curling into fists. No one will help me. No one will even look at me. It’s like I don’t exist without him, like I’m nothing more than a shadow fading in his absence. The realization sends a pang of loneliness through me, sharp and aching.

The day drags on, the sun sinking lower in the sky, and the pressure in my breasts grows worse. I try to distract myself, try to ignore the ache, but it’s impossible. The fullness is a constant weight, each step I take a reminder of how much I need him, how much I’ve come to rely on his touch. My body is crying out for relief, and there’s nothing I can do. I find my way to the milking room, hoping I can use the machine myself, but the door is locked, the access code out of my reach.

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