THE WEEKEND THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING 12 - 30 DAYS LATER. THE NEW MILKING ORDER

Thirty days later. A complicated milking

Pedro arrived at six in the evening, as he usually did. He took the keys out of his pocket and opened the door. The apartment was empty. The lights were off, and there was absolute silence.

"Damn it," he muttered, leaving the keys on the entrance table.

He took out his cell phone and dialed. Juan answered on the third ring, with the agitated voice of someone walking quickly among people.

"Pedro, sorry, I'm coming, five minutes."

"Where the hell are you?"

"Leaving the subway. It was a crappy day, I swear. Work kept me until just now, I didn't stop all day."

Pedro sat down in the armchair without turning on the lights.

"Hurry up."

"I'm already two blocks away, sorry, really."

He hung up without saying goodbye. He stayed looking at the ceiling, tapping his fingers on the armrest. Thirty days. Thirty days since the last milking, and the idiot wasn't in the house waiting for him as he should be.

He heard the key in the lock four minutes later. Juan entered almost running, sweaty, with his shirt out of his pants and his tie loose. The first thing he did was drop his briefcase on the floor and start undressing before even closing the door.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he repeated as he pulled off his shoes.

"Close the door so the whole building can see you."

Juan obeyed. He finished undressing in the living room. When he was completely naked, he walked up to where Pedro was and knelt down in front of him.

"Good afternoon, sorry."

Pedro looked at him from above. Juan's skin was slightly shiny from the sweat of the trip. He had disheveled hair, agitated breathing. Between his legs, the chastity cage was still in place, as always.

"Look how you come," Pedro said with contempt. "You're a mess. Is this how you greet me?"

"I'm sorry. I can take a quick shower if you want."

"No. Stay like that."

Juan lowered his gaze. Pedro could see how his shoulders trembled slightly. Excitement, nerves, anticipation. After a whole month of forced abstinence, Juan's body was a live wire. Any stimulus made him vibrate.

Pedro leaned forward and ran his fingers through Juan's hair, slowly, almost tenderly. Juan closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

"How was your day?" Pedro asked, as if they were having coffee.

"It was horrible. Meetings since eight, a mess with a supplier, the system went down twice..."

Pedro continued to caress Juan's hair as he spoke. He told him about the client who had called him yelling, about the colleague who had taken the day off sick, leaving him with all the work, about the lunch he couldn't have because he didn't have time. Trivial things, the gray routine of an office life. But as he spoke, Pedro's hand went down his neck, his shoulders, his back.

Juan shuddered when the fingers reached the base...