CORA
"Two loaves rye, one sausage-bread, and a tray of cinnamon rolls. Did you want any milk?" I asked, rummaging behind the counter to assemble the order, "That'll be fourteen copperbell... Thank you, Mr. Porchance, have a nice day!"
The doorbell chimed as the last of our morning rush customers carried on his way, leaving me alone. Daddy's snoring hummed through the rafters upstairs.
Making use of the moment's reprieve, I stepped into the kitchen and began to restock, carrying trays out to the front of the house.
Another tug hit my chest, dragging me to my palms against the counter. "Nnnh- Ser, you're so mean..."
She'd been toying with me all morning, each ping hitting the internal string that ran down my core, down to what she left me. Still so sticky.
I squeezed tight, focusing on the feel of damp fabric clinging to my bottom. Missing you, hope it's all going well.
Cuckoo-cuckoo, our clock called, followed by another tug. Seriously, what are you doing?
That marked the start of the morning commencement. Was she stroking herself in a washroom? If I was there, she wouldn't be having so much trouble.
Ser, hurry up. I checked the windows. The street outside was calm, so I settled down onto an elbow, ruffling my other hand through the pleats of my skirt. I placed my middle two fingertips to my cleft, and my hips twitched.
Feel that? I yanked on her, working a small circle. You're still inside me.
Her cream. I couldn't help but smile. It was cold on my skin where it leaked, a constant reminder of these last few weeks. They had been perfect, things felt right again, but they had reached their close.
I'm rubbing you Ser...
Pressing cool fabric into my entrance, I tried my best, wanted as hard as I could, for her to feel it, use it.
The back of my neck tightened, and I tried to shoo the sensation away. Not now, don't think about that right now.
I hadn't told her. Three days. Three months without her, three weeks with her, and now three days late.
Shut up.
It wasn't budging, and she didn't need that. I stood and rushed to the front door, flipped the sign, and threw the lock before slinking off to the kitchen.
Only good thoughts.
It hadn't happened to us, but words could work their way through tethers if they were strong enough. Serica didn't need the distraction.
I climbed onto the polished wood counter, flour sticking to my fingers and knees, then rolled onto my butt and propped my back against the wall. I could stay here. I had a backup; Ser didn't.
It's only three days, quit being silly.
It wasn't important; Ser needed her daily bread. I flipped my skirt, fingers trailing up my thighs.
Make her feel it bunny...
I hooked my panties crotch, pulled them aside, put a fingertip to her puddle, and then brought it to my tongue. Her love, her bleach, my belly trembled.
She tugged back! My pussy stretched wide, letting her roll out and cool air pool inside "Mmhh-" I whispered, "It's yours..."
Kneading my dough for her, my chest shook. I fed it to our line, pulling my lips wide, tweaking my button, with my other hand unbuttoning my blouse, pulling down my bra.
Yours! Take it, take it!
Pinching my hardened nipple between my knuckles, static rolled through me. My other hand dipped inside, teasing her bunnie's creamy hole. It squeezed tight, luscious.
I wished for her dick. I couldn't claim myself like she could; the sensation was too rich. My fingers would back off, quit. She wouldn't. She would keep going when all I could do was take it.
My man...
"Fuck your bunny, fuck your- fuck..."
My flour-coated hips pulled up, her imaginary dick stretching me. Our cord twanged hard, yanking my eyes open, and I gulped.
Fire!
No. It had breasts, arms, one stretched out to its side, fist clenched tight, standing beside the ovens.
"Bru-" I scrambled, flipping down my skirt, closing my thighs, "I-"
Brumer, Mom's bonded.
Or she was. I fought the clench in my cheeks.
No tears, not now.
Her hand twisted, and I felt the tug. "Pretty thick, Cora."
"It's not-" she was short, with wide hips, skin like burning coal. I knew its feel; it was uncomfortably warm, but it didn't burn. She gave good hugs. I'd never seen her without her dress, stark.
She approached, her hand still turned vertical, the tether rippling through her palm. "You're smitten, huh?"
"M-maybe." Her flames licked taller. I sat up straight.
"The Trumonde girl." She brought a hand to my hair and held it to her nose. "Cherryblossom."
I winced. That's what you called Mom.
"Why are you here?" I asked, pulling my blouse closed around my breasts.
"I couldn't go... She asked..."