The first anniversary of Victor's exile dawned quietly, the city still asleep under a blanket of February snow. Isabella woke me with her mouth, slow and worshipful, milk dripping from her breasts onto my chest as she took me deep. Lila joined minutes later, sliding down my body to lick where Isabella sucked, tongues tangling around my cock until I spilt across both their faces, white mixing with white.
We showered together, water scalding, bodies sliding soap-slick. Isabella pressed against the tile, legs spread, taking me from behind while Lila knelt and licked her clit, my balls, the place we joined. Isabella came first, walls clenching, squirting down Lila's chin. I followed, flooding her, then pulled out and painted Lila's back. She turned, kissed Isabella deeply, sharing taste.
Breakfast on the terrace despite the cold, heaters roaring. Children bundled in cashmere: Victor Jr., five now, bossing the nanny with spreadsheets on his tablet; Ruby, four and a half, red curls wild, demanding strawberries cut into hearts; Emerald, three, green eyes calculating; Steel, two, grey stare unnerving the staff. Nannies served silently, knowing one wrong glance meant severance and an NDA.
Isabella nursed Steel openly, gown slipping off one shoulder, nipple dark and leaking. Lila fed Emerald from a bottle warmed with her own milk, pumped fresh that morning. I watched, cock stirring again under the table, foot finding Isabella's calf, travelling up.
Board meeting at ten. We dressed sharp: Isabella in a white suit, skirt tight over ass still lush from births; Lila in a red power dress, cleavage deep; me in charcoal, watch gleaming. Elevator down, private, hands already wandering. Isabella pinned against the wall, my mouth on her neck, Lila's fingers under her skirts, stroking until the doors opened on the executive floor, wet and wanting.
Conference room: mahogany and glass, city sprawling below. Executives waited, eyes averted from the faint milk stains on Isabella's blouse. Agenda: expansion into biometric pleasure tech, toys that read desire and adjust in real time. Victor Jr. had prototyped at age five.
I presented standing behind Isabella, hand hidden under the table, stroking her through the lace. Lila moderated questions, voice steady while I slipped fingers inside, curling slowly. Isabella's breath hitched once, masked as a cough. She came silent, thighs clamping my hand, eyes locked on the CFO mid-sentence.
Deal closed in record time.
Lunch in my office. Door locked. Blinds down. Isabella on the desk, legs over my shoulders, eating her like starvation while Lila rode my cock reverse, ass bouncing. Switched halfway: Lila on the desk, Isabella on my face, tasting both. Came inside Lila, then pulled out and finished across Isabella's tits, rubbing it in like lotion.
Afternoon: site visit to the new Hale Pleasure Labs, underground facility beneath the warehouse. White coats and red lights. Prototypes hummed: vibrators synced to stock tickers, rising with profits; plugs that pulsed to heartbeats; VR headsets streaming family archives, edited soft for public.
Test chamber: padded room, mirrors ceiling to floor. We stripped. Technicians watched through one-way glass, clipboards ready. Isabella on the central throne, legs spread in stirrups, wired to sensors. Lila and I took turns: mouth, fingers, cock, strap. Data streamed: arousal peaks, lubrication levels, orgasm intensity. Isabella shattered three times, squirting across the floor, milk spraying when I pinched her nipples.
Lila next, bound to the wall, violet wand crackling. I fucked her slowly while Isabella shocked sensitive spots, data spiking red. Lila came screaming, body convulsing, technicians scribbling furiously.
My turn: restrained on the bench, cock wired to pleasure algorithms. They took me together, mouths and hands and toys, machine learning every twitch. Came harder than ever, vision whiting out, data off charts.
Products green-lit for launch. Billions projected.
Evening: home. Children's bath time. We joined naked, tub overflowing. Victor Jr. splashed, demanding submarine toys that were actually prototypes. Ruby washed Lila's breasts with grave concentration. Emerald and Steel fought over bubbles. I held Isabella from behind, cock nestled between her cheeks, slow grind under water.
Bedtime stories: Isabella nursing Steel to sleep, Lila reading to the others, and me stroking Ruby's hair until her eyelids drooped. Monitors on, red lights steady but ours now.
Dungeon by ten. Ritual evolved.
Isabella on the altar, white lace again, legs chained wide. Lila in a red harness, strap thick and black. I knelt first, mouth on Isabella, while Lila pegged me slowly, hands on my hips. Switched seamlessly: Isabella wearing the strap, entering Lila bent over the bench, me in Isabella's ass, chain of flesh and power.
The full moon peaked. We moved to the swing. Isabella suspended, legs high. I entered her pussy, Lila her ass, double-filling until she sobbed with pleasure. Came together, flooding both holes, with excess dripping to the floor.
Aftercare on the big rug, bodies tangled, milk flowing freely. Isabella nursed me like a child, sweet warmth coating my tongue while Lila licked come from between her thighs.
Midnight feed: babies woke crying in sync. We carried them to the master bed, all six of us a pile of limbs and warmth. Victor Jr. latched to Isabella, Ruby to Lila, Emerald and Steel sharing bottles warmed with fresh milk. I held them all, cock soft but content nestled against Isabella's thigh.
Empire secure. Victor's yacht spotted off Capri, tablet still chained, feed live. He watched the nursery, the dungeon, and the lab tests. We sent him holiday cards: family photos with red lights circled in gold.
Sex became sustenance. Milk and come, and power flows endlessly.
The family is unbreakable. Two queens producing heirs and revenue. Four children are already coding desire into their DNA.
And the red light, steady and proud, blinked approval from every corner we owned.