Personal Time with Cathyl

>Cathyl has decided she’s ready for some Snu-Snu with you after feeling like you’ve been ignoring her.
>She pins you against the wall or the side of the bed, angry that you have procrastinated on milking her for so long.
>She demands that you make amends by milking her while simultaneously putting her milk to good use.
>Her idea for making this happen is having you drink all her excess milk straight from the tap (a process she enjoys the sensation of), not letting a drop go to waste.
>Do a good job and she'll let you periodically come up for air. Stop sucking too often and she'll bear-hug you into her cleavage. 10 or 15 seconds without air should be enough to correct your behavior.
>After 20 or 30 minutes you're finally finished, gasping as your mouth is finally released, having downed nearly an entire milk-pail's worth of warm, creamy milk into your stomach, as your now almost pregnant-looking midsection starts to gurgle in a small, dull pain.
>Cathyl looks down at you and smiles as she strokes your hair, her pain relieved thanks to your efforts, and her cup-size reduced by at least one and a half.
>However, she frowns as she notices your slow, labored breathing and discomforted facial-expression. She intended this as “punishment”, but not soft-core torture. She realizes she may have forced you to drink a little too much of her milk, whether you OR her recognized it or not.
>She softly places her left palm on your distended belly, just under your belly-button, and strokes in an upward direction, trying to comfort you where you are sore. It feels surprisingly good due to how hyper-sensitive the surface of your gut has become. You give a half-pained, half-sensual shiver in response.
>Having satisfied her Dominant Instincts with the game she’s played with you so far, and seeing you in this state, her Nurturing Instincts begin to take over.
>Keeping her right arm on your back, she hooks her left arm behind your knees.
>Using her formidable stature and strength, she’s able to easily carry you in her arms. Though her bust-size has been slightly reduced, you’re still forced to rest the side of your face against the soft texture of her right breast.
>Slowly, gently, she begins to rock you back and forth. It’s so surreal that it takes you a second to realize what she’s doing. She’s rocking you like a mother lovingly rocks an infant after a meal.
>True to this sensual pantomime of something so innocent, Cathyl begins to sing. Softly, in a gentle tone, she begins to sing a lullaby. It sounds like an old one, with an exotic-sound twinge to it as if it’s specific to Minotaur-culture. Maybe it’s one her mother sang to her as a child.
>Her rocking you back and forth is causing your full pot-belly to slosh slightly on each motion, almost audibly. In addition, though you were already digesting it to a degree, the excess milk you’ve been forced to drink is now really starting to hit your system, and your body is drawing energy to get it all digested. Between all that and Cathyl’s soft, melodic voice, you are rapidly falling asleep, despite your best efforts to remain awake to enjoy this.
>Just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, Cathyl stops her singing and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.
>Slowly and carefully she lays you on your back on top of the bed, taking extra care to not agitate your swollen paunch.
>Pulling a warm, thick blanket over you, she curls up next to you, her face right by your ear. She cuddles with you, making sure to stroke your distended, sloshing dome of a belly in order to further calm it down and reduce its pain.
>She begins whispering warm, romantic nothings into your ear as you finally succumb to sleep.