[A continuation of Chapter 5’s Bad End]
It had been eight days since Mommy- no, the bird woman, had captured him. Or rather, since he had fallen into her nest… her trap.
In that time, Rick had been subjected to a seemingly endless cycle of being breastfed, tickled, cuddled, and milked to mind-bending orgasms. His entire body was now so unfathomanly sensitive that if he strayed from within her protective… or rather, entrapping wings, the feathers of the nest would swiftly overwhelm his senses, sending him into a mix of erotic euphoria and ticklish hysteria.
Even so, whenever she shifted her body, even slightly, her feathers would ever so delicately trace across his naked, vulnerable body. It rarely woke him, so utterly exhausted was he from her constant maternal attentions, but it had the effect of ensuring even in his sleep he was under constant ticklish assault, and his dreams - or nightmares - never strayed far from the living nightmare of the nest he now inhabited.
Rick may yet have attempted escape, despite the ticklish ordeal it would have involved, but whenever she wasn’t in the nest - where her attention would inevitably be fully upon him - he was bound in those soft, spongy vines. Even when he slept within her wings, she usually kept a leash around his neck, wrist or ankle, which was connected to her own. If he strayed too far… she would be woken, and unerringly decide her baby boy was ‘thirsty’, his straining stomach be damned, or had ‘too much energy’ and needed to ‘burn some off’. Thus he would either be forcibly breastfed by her shockingly thick nipple, milked to a toe-curling, eye-rolling orgasm, or tickled until he was utterly senseless. Usually all three at once - the price for attempting escape, and yet it was little different from his daily torments…
He shivered at the thought. Even once when he had shifted in his sleep and unintentionally woken her, she had simply smiled at his sleeping form, and taken it as an excuse to torture him. He had awoken to the feeling of being entrapped within her thick limbs, confusing it for a motherly cuddle before the teasing torture began all over again.
Tonight, though, he was not yet asleep. The moon shone down into the nest, gently illuminating the feathery cage that had become his home. He had no intention of risking escape that night, despite the urge to be free still burning within him. That urge had been slightly dimmed by the fogginess of his mind, though, as well as some emotions he was starting to feel that the rebellious side of him wasn’t willing to admit existed.
Rick stared at… her. The massive woman whose pink wings kept him safe… but also trapped. Her soft, kind face was so endearing, yet he knew how quickly her gentle smile could twist, become placid, at the slightest sign of his disobedience. Yet… she cared for him. It was clear despite everything, she obviously did… love him. He stared into those massive breasts of hers, never too far away, always looming with their creamy promise… His heart beat a little faster.
He wouldn't be escaping tonight. No, he instead would risk something far less brave, even if the consequences for being caught might have been just as dire…
Rick pushed his hand through the embrace of her feathery wings, and winced, choking back laughter as his sensitive wrists and forearms were subjected to her ticklish vice. Down he plunged his arm into the ticklish morass of her feathery bedding, and as her wings traced further and further up his arm as a result, the harder and harder it became to keep his laughter in check.
He physically clamped a hand over his own throat to strangle any cry, and winced at what was coming… fishing his hand around, he swirled his arm through the feathers, and felt for his prize. Tears flowed down his cheeks as his overly-sensitive armpit raked across her ticklish feathers again and again, and he felt the leash around his neck - connected to her wrist - give a slight tug.
Forcing himself to be still for a moment, he summoned the last reserves of his mental strength, biting his lip to try to quench the ticklish sensations threatening to erase any senses he had remaining. For a moment his fingers grazed something that wasn’t feathers or branches, and he honed in, feeling around, until he retrieved it. Now, carefully, he pulled it out… sliding it delicately between her feathers, and brought it to rest upon his chest.
Slowly, nervously, he turned to check that Mommy… his captor… was still sleeping. Half expecting the cold piercing blue to meet him, he shuddered out a sigh of relief as he tried to relax himself - her eyes were closed. She was still asleep.
He looked upon his prize. A small victory that kept the hope of his eventual escape alive. His book had remained hidden under the feathers all this time. He had a few days ago by chance felt his foot kick against it while being tickled half to death by his Mommy… his… motherly captor.
The light of the moon was more than sufficient to read by, and he cautiously, silently, turned the pages. This was why he had left the city, after all. These images. For a moment he cast his mind back to those fleeting days of freedom he had known, walking, exploring…
Exploring what? The question came unbidden from a voice in his head that, slowly, had been growing louder since his capture.
Exploring what? The question came again. Ruins? Empty buildings devoid of anything of value or interest?
He turned the page. A ‘Beach Resort’. Men and women… all half naked, lying on sand, next to… it must be the ocean. Massive stretches of water lit by the sun. His eyes rested on a woman in a purple swimsuit, beautiful… He would never see the ocean. Or other people.
So? The voice asked. You left the city for a reason. Now you have Mommy. She’s all you need.
Biting his tongue to drive the voice away, he flipped a few pages forward.
A ‘Theme Park’. So much colour… and strange buildings. Everyone was smiling. What had it been used for? He read on. Fun, games… enjoyment… relaxation. The chapter was called ‘Recreation’, so it made sense. These were all the places people went to have fun before.
Before… what? Before some unknown thing forced them to live in walled cities.
He cast a wary eye at the pink feathers which now closed in around him. Rick had begun to suspect he now had an answer to that old question.
‘Dating’.
The pages of this chapter were frayed and worn. He had read it before. Enough times, in fact, he could have quoted it word for word.
It was the picture he cared for most, though.
A guy, a girl, sat at a table. A candle burned, and they smiled. Her chin was in her hands, and he was drinking something red. The way she looked at him, smiled at him… it wasn’t just lust, or avarice. It was pure, strong… love.
The way Mommy looked at him.
No, he shut his eyes, forcing his palms into them to drive the thought back. She didn't love him like that. He wasn't her partner, he was her child… her pet. She wanted to keep him here forever.
Keep him safe.
Slowly, he shook his head. He wanted more than this. He had left to be free, and this was… just another cage.
Mommy gives you everything you need.
He let the book cover his face, the cool page a slight relief. In that picture he saw himself and Jessica, and what might have been. Prisoners, maybe, but at least they were together, sharing the same cell. Here he shared a cell with his jailor…
She would never have left, never have come with him… but if she had, he knew, she would just be trapped in this nest with him now. Dimly, he imagined Mommy… the woman calling herself his Mommy… would have only been delighted to have two babies to coddle and confine rather than just him.
Mommy’s good boy. Mommy’s baby boy.
His stomach groaned. For a moment he felt himself rolling to the side, eyes wandering back to her milky, leaky nipples, which had become the sole source of sustenance she gave him.
He stopped himself, arm frozen in the air, inches from those heaving bosoms of hers. He had been reaching for them, without even realising it. Was he insane? Why had he done that?
He was hungry. He wanted to suckle.
No. This was bad. A cold chill ran through him. He hadn’t even thought about it, that time. His body had just been acting on its own. He was running out of time.
Rick set the book aside atop her wing, and stared up, past her wing, at the moon… and the gap through which she came and went as she pleased. Climbing would be tough. He had tried. He might fail again… but he had to try.
For over an hour, he worked at the vine around his neck until it was loose. Pinching the far end so it wouldn’t accidentally tug at Mommy’s wrist, that left him just one hand to work with. It was so frustrating, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep working. A single mistake, a single pull of her wrist, and it would be over. She would instantly know what he had been doing…
At last, he slipped it over his head, an inch at a time, and slid free.
Slipping through her wings was surprisingly easy. They were, by design, incredibly soft and pliable. He shuffled out head first, but was forced, in order to crawl on his belly, to drag his now overly-sensitive and tired cock across her silky smooth wing… which left him with a raging erection that sent his heart racing.
That would have to wait, though, no matter how demanding his libido might be. Even if he had wanted to, which he admitted part of him did, his orgasms left him even more sensitive afterwards, a fact his Mommy… no his captor… was so delighted to take advantage of. Besides, he could swear his Mommy… no, he forced himself to think, his captor, could smell his arousal. Whenever he had attempted to relieve himself at night, she had inevitably been awoken, no matter how quiet he had tried to keep his sensitive squeals of pleasure.
The hardest part would not be making his way through the feathers that lined the floor of the nest, either. If he was slow enough then, while torturous, it was possible to do. No, the climb was always where he failed. Where he fell. Fell back into her feathers. Back into her arms.
Into Mommy’s loving embrace.
Rick steeled himself for the climb, the ordeal he knew was to come. His cock throbbed, and in the back of his mind, doubts swelled. As did his thirst…
He had to get out of there. Tonight. The feathers did their job, working into every crevice, and ensuring every move was as difficult as possible, but he climbed.
His breathing came ragged as, looking down, he saw he had barely climbed six feet from the tickly tide of feathers below. Reaching up, his armpit was exposed as he moved, and he winced. His sensitive nipples already ached from the constant feathering they had received. Not to mention his cock, feathers haf lapped at it tantalisingly, and it was practically begging for him to reach down and fuck his hand to his own doom. If he came… there was no way he’d be able to hold on, not to mention Mommy would no doubt be roused by his arousal…
Rick’s thighs, tensed from the climb and the ticklish sensations, were rendered all the more sensitive, and thus all the more ticklish. But his true weakness, as he had learned to his horror the day he had been captured, was his feet. Pressing his toes into the branches, he whimpered as quietly as he could. Finding purchase on the ticklish walls was a torture of its own.
As he climbed, though, he knew there would be less feathers as they thinned out. If he could just get a little higher, it would get easier… That was the only ray of hope that kept him going. That, and thoughts of…
He froze. The book! He’d left it on her wing! She would find it…
Not daring to look back, he swallowed, realising he had no choice now - he could never get back without her noticing. There was no way he could have carried the book with him, of course. His bag and his clothes were long since gone, shredded by her immense strength. That didn’t matter anymore. He was leaving now; tonight.
A particularly distracting feather ran its way down the seam of his inner thigh, and caught the back of his coin purse. For a moment, he felt himself choking on laughter, but managed to force it back down.
The effort of keeping his laughter in was almost as exhausting as climbing when his body was so tense, but he pushed on. Every step brought him closer to freedom, and every moment the incline of the ceiling raised slightly. Soon he was bent back, having to scale a wall angled back against himself.
Now, though, blessedly, the feathers had lessened in density to merely be harrowing rather than tormenting in their constant ticklish tirade against his taut body. He felt sluggish, though. His stomach rumbled again, and he felt his tongue lapping at a phantom nipple. Rick longed to have her teat seated between his lips again, forcing its way into his throat and feeding him her poisoned cream…
Shaking his head, he felt his cock pressing against his stomach at the thought of sucklint again, and with every heartbeat it pulsed and ached. The thought of nursing from Mommy again was all he could think about.
What the hell was wrong with him? He was so close, so close now. He could feel the whisper of the wind on his hands now, a taunting promise of the freedom that was now so close, just ,within his grasp.
Even so, he felt his grip slacken. His cock absolutely demanded that he stroke himself, NOW. Biting, he tried to marshall his thoughts, forcing down his libidinous desire to stroke his cock and damn himself, falling down into the fluffy prison just below from which he doubted Mommy would ever give him a chance to escape again after this…
As his hand clasped the interior of the exit, he struggled to pull himself up, sweat dripping from his body now with the effort. He could only pray those droplets didn’t touch Mommy, or she would snatch him away from his escape when it was so close…
Now, though, he felt cool air, and the warmth of the nest slowly pushing past him, creating a tiny air current. As he clung to the branches, he felt the feathers moving now… like dozens, no hundreds… thousands of tiny feathery fingers all over him.
Weeping, he tried to move, but felt his grip almost give way. Every sensitive part of his body was now under total assault from all sides as the tight tunnel exit’s feathers pressed in around him. It wasn’t fair! He was so close!
His cock sang with pure exasperation at the unsatisfying ticklish torment it was receiving, and every other ticklish little part of his body sympathised with it. His ears, his nose, his lips, his chin, his neck… down his chest, his nipples, his armpits, his sides… his stomach, his waist, his cock and his hips, his thighs and the backs of his knees and his utterly helplessly ticklish feet. Every inch of him was now subjected to the tiny minute movements of her feathers as the air flowed around him.
Helplessly, he giggled, but no longer cared. At this point he just wanted it to end, freedom or doom, anything but one second more of this torment. One finger slipped, then another. His body screamed. It tickled. A thousand spots were demanding he pull his hand away and protect them, if even for just a moment, from the ticklish assault. It prickled. It itched. It tickled, god did it tickle. He wanted to scratch every inch of himself as dozens of beads of sweat trickled down his body, either swept away by a tickly feather or dripping down his beet-red body.
His feet came loose, and his heart missed a beat, but his fingers clung on. He now hung, legs squirming in the air, hanging on to the opening of the nest.
So close… so close. His hand grasped flat ground, followed by the other. With just one last effort, he knew he could pull himself out of the ticklish tunnel, and freedom would be his.
He breathed, and tensed, ready to pull.
Only then did a thick pair of lips latched onto his cock, and such him inside her mouth. Mommy’s tongue was wild, squirming and writhing all over his dick, trapped between her wet, sausage-thick lips.
“Noooo!” he cried, trying to pull harder, but found his last strength waning as if she were sucking it out through his cock directly.
The lascivious wet noises of her mouth on his cock, hidden below the tunnel around him, were an assault upon his delicate mind almost as ruthless as the physical assault of her mouth on his cock. Both had one solitary goal, and his defences crumbled.
Rick had been so close to escape… but now he was far closer to a different kind of release. His hips thrust wildly in the air, humping into his Mommy’s wet mouth, as he felt another finger come loose.
She fluttered her tongue all over his head, while encouraging his thrusting motions by slamming her thick wet lips down to the base of his cock and sucking mightily to ensure that when he pulled his hips back her mouth clung to his cock as tightly as possible.
Shaking, shivering, he could hold on no longer, in both senses. His hands came free, and his Mommy’s arms enveloped him… down, down she sucked him, down into the nest.
Before, with a sickeningly wet plop, her mouth slurped free of his cock and left him teetering on the absolute knife’s edge of orgasm.
*****
Rick lay, shivering and weeping, as her piercing blue eyes poured into his. She laid him down on his back across her massively thick thigh, with his head facing her feet. His wrists had been roughly bound to the wall of the nest now, and he tugged at them mightily, desperate to stroke himself and bring himself over the edge, to attain the orgasm he so desperately wanted. It just wasn’t fair! He had been so close! Not only had his bid for freedom been robbed from him, but even his orgasm.
She clamped her other thigh atop his body, careful to ensure his cock could gain no friction from rubbing against it, leaving it throbbing needily in the air.
Her eyes never left his, though, staring at him over the thick mass of her thighs.
He whimpered. Those eyes were cold.
Inhuman.
“My baby boy… did you have a nice dream?” she asked, in an even tone.
He merely shivered, afraid to say or do anything. Even his raging desire to cum was hilted by that icy stare. Rick had seen this cool side of her before but… never like this.
“Did you have trouble sleeping? You could have just asked Mommy to help you sleep... Mommy was watching the whole time. Mommy is always watching.”
Every part of his body, save his cock, wilted at those words. She had seen the whole thing…
“You know…” Mommy mutely stated, “If my baby boy wanted his Mommy to read him a story… all he had to do was ask.”
She lifted the book in her other hand now… the page on ‘Dating’ still open.
Panicking now, he tried to croak out a thousand different apologies, but nothing came out save for a tiny squeak of terror.
“My silly boy… did he get funny ideas from reading this book?” She asked, head cocking slightly to the side as she stared at him.
He had thought it had been eerie when she always smiled. Now he wished more than anything she would smile like she had before.
“Well, if my baby boy can’t sleep… Mommy will just have to read his favourite book to him.” She spoke softly, mutely, her tone almost distant. It had none of the warmth or saccharine affection which had always dripped from it up until now.
Again, he wished she would go back to how she was before. This new side of her was chilling him.
“Let Mommy tell you what it says here…” she spoke, her voice taking on that same sing-song tone that had annoyed him before, but with her new demeanour gave him goosebumps. She took her eyes off him at last, and began to read from the book… or so she pantomimed.
“This chapter is called… Good Boys and their Mommies.”
He felt a shiver go up his spine.
“All good boys live with their Mommies. Some good boys live in a nest with their Mommy,” she began, and he felt her move one of her feet behind his head as if it were a pillow, “just like you.”
At that, she planted a single talon on the underside of his foot.
In horror, he held his breath.
“Good boys always do what their Mommy says…” as she began to speak, she circled her nail on the bottom of his foot, “and never ever think of disobeying her.”
Madly, he tugged at his bonds now, screaming with laughter as she immediately began to tickle his poor feet with pitiless efficiency. Yet they were embedded into her thick, pillowy thigh flesh so tightly they couldn’t move at all, save to squirm helplessly. His toes were pinned back between them, leaving his soles utterly taut and vulnerable.
“Good boys listen to their Mommy and obey.” She continued, not really moving her eyes as she ‘read’ from the page, but her talon scratched madly now. “They only think about Mommy.”
He cried, he wailed, but no matter how hard he laughed, her words always found their way into his ears.
“Some boys get silly ideas about leaving the nest, but good boys never leave the nest. They never ever want to leave their Mommies.”
She switched tactics now, digging her talons into the spaces between his toes, and he felt his breathing stop for a few moments before he screamed anew.
“Silly baby boys sometimes think they didn’t live in a nest before, but they’re just getting confused about their silly little dreams and thinking they’re real. No, good boys only think about, and dream about, their Mommy…”
“Nooohohohoho!” he managed to scream between bouts of hysteria.
She was relentless, both in her tickling, and her droning lecture.
“Good boys never want to leave the nest. They want to stay with Mommy forever, and her body makes special milk that makes it so they never ever want to leave…”
His heart skipped a beat before he went back to frantic squirming. He had been right. There was something in her milk, something special about it.
“Mommy’s milk makes their bodies very sensitive, so only Mommy’s special cuddles can keep them safe. It also helps good boys stop thinking silly thoughts, because good boys only think of Mommy.”
She spoke clearly, and evenly, eyes fixed on him now, not even bothering to pretend to read.
“Good boys know they only exist to suck Mommy’s nipples, drink her milk, and laugh like a good little boy so Mommy knows how happy they are.” She paid vicious attention to the pad just below his toes now. “They only exist to fuck Mommy, to cum for mommy, to make Mommy happy… and Mommy will make her good boy very happy.”
He gritted his teeth, determined not to give her the satisfaction of laughing like the child she wanted him to be. That only lasted a few seconds, forever, once she began to use both hands, resting the book in her cleavage. Clawing at his feet madly now she began honing in on all his weakest and most ticklish spots, and he felt his laughter come out in breathless, ragged coughs.
“Some silly baby boys have very silly ideas… about loving anyone other than their Mommy.” She spoke, glancing down at the book spread open across her titanic cleavage. “They think their silly dreams about other girls are real, but they’re not. Baby boys belong with their Mommy.”
“It dohohohoesn’t say thaaaaat!” he groaned, her cloying words leaving a lump in his throat as the true depths of her depravity were made clear.
“Oh, baby boy, look right here! There’s a picture…” she said, ignoring his defiant cry, and with that she lifted the book up and turned it around to be facing him, leaning closer to let him see, holding it directly in front of his face. Now she was only softly tickling his foot, and he choked back tears, just about able to focus. It was the picture of the guy and girl dating… the one he had left open.
“See? It’s a picture of what some silly boys think is outside the nest. They think there’s other people out there to fall in love with. But…”
She lowered the book now, and her cold, blue eyes pierced into his very soul in the dim moonlight.
“Good boys… only… love… Mommy.”
Her smile returned at last, wide and beaming. He had wanted her to smile before. He had been wishing she would smile again. Now he knew he had been wrong.
Rick truly panicked then. He tried to stutter out an apology and beg all at once, but she simply laid her other foot across his mouth, silencing any further protests.
Now Mommy was truly merciless.
Mommy’s fingers scrabbled across his soles so quickly he couldn’t tell where one touch ended and another began. They blended together into a single unbearable sensation. Mommy’s claws practically reached through his feet, through his nerves, directly into whichever part of his brain was responsible for feeling ticklishness and sank her talons into it directly.
Instantly he felt his vision blur, and it became difficult to hear anything as the sound of his own muffled screams was drowned out by the thunder of his heartbeat in his ears.
Ticklish agony became his entire existence. He was now just a nervous system which existed purely to experience tickling. His arousal had been forgotten amidst her chilling tirade, but now returned with avengeance as his body was flooded with countless sensations, and his mind struggled to differentiate between pleasure and torture.
Rick was pushed to the brink of total insanity, and then she simply kept on going, with no intention of stopping. Mommy’s fingers didn’t stop. When he felt himself losing his mind he realised that simply meant there were more parts of it to lose, and she just kept tickling him.
Mommy’s brutal tickling dug into his soles and in doing so his soul, clawing away any semblance of self with feathery light touches which were regardless had devastating impacts upon his psyche. Desperate squeals were all that escaped his nose, anything he could have attempted to say was lost amidst the peals of laughter smothered by her sole across his lips.
Mommy wasn’t done, though. She released his feet and held them firm in her hands, clawing her nails across them as she did so… just as her wings began to force her feathers between his toes. Ruthlessly, they sawed between his splayed digits, and he simply lost all control.
It was beyond excruciating. It was beyond feeling. Beyond sensation. It was as if tickling could not describe it, as if she were transcribing her own thoughts over his sense of self directly through her ticklish torment.
His hips bucked and jolted, and then, at last, he felt her hand clasp around his cock.
Through the tempest of sensation, he felt one hand on his cock seeking to wipe his mind clean with pleasure, as the other sought to erase his mind through tickling, and between the two he heard her voice.
“Cum for Mommy.”
As brutal as her tickling, now, was her milking of his utterly defenceless cock. He just couldn’t handle such an onslaught of overwhelming sensations.
“Cum for Mommy.”
It was a command.
“CUM FOR MOMMY.”
He obeyed.
His long denied cock throbbed and squirted in Mommy’s grip, but she didn’t slow for an instant. Her slippery fingers milked his cock non-stop, as his orgasm simply grew and grew in intensity. The tickling didn’t let up for even a moment. She forced him to higher and higher planes of ecstasy… and didn’t stop.
The tickling didn’t stop. Her milking didn’t stop.
He felt his body tensing and flexing helplessly, while screaming and pleading into the foot she was gagging him with. If she could have heard him, she would have heard his pleas for her to stop tickling him change to pleas for her to stop stroking his cock. She had no intentions of ceasing either.
Unable to relax at all under her combined ticklish handjob assault, his pleasure merely plateaued. It never dipped below the near peak it had reached, and soon he felt the excruciating over-sensitivity give way to the imminent and far-too-swift return of a second orgasm.
“Cum for Mommy.” She demanded once more, and he obeyed.
His balls tightened and retracted within their coin purse and a second, even more strenuous orgasm wracked through his trapped body.
She didn’t stop. Her hands kept moving. Her wings kept up their merciless agonising work.
Rick felt his last finger-hold on sanity slip away as the last string within his mind simply snapped.
*****
It was late in the day when he finally woke. Mommy was cuddling him.
“Good morning, my sweet baby boy,” Mommy cooed softly to him.
“G-good morning, Mommy.” Came his obedient reply.
He was jittery, as always. Jumping at every tiny tickle on his now ludicrously sensitive body. Softly, gently, Mommy ran her nails across his stomach, eliciting tiny giggles from him, which delighted her to no end.
In her taloned hand she held his old book, and he stared between it and her, heart racing, wondering if she felt the need to reinforce the lessons she had driven home so clearly before.
“I better put this book away somewhere my good boy can’t find it. He gets so confused when he reads it…”
At that, she leaned over and kissed him, passionately, leaving his head spinning and - as always - his needy cock throbbing.
“He just needs Mommy to read it for him, to make sure he doesn’t get confused, doesn’t he? She can tell him what all the big words say…”
She fixed him with her blue eyes, smiling broadly.
“Mommy can tell her good boy what to think, can’t she?”
Pausing for a moment, she let her finger trail down the underside of his cock, as if waiting for him to voice any objections. Predictably, none came. Now she sported a toothy grin.
“Is my good boy thirsty?”
He swallowed, his throat feeling so dry… and his breasts were attracting his eyes with their protruding promise of relief, and yet…
Noticing his delay, she skittered her nails across his nipple.
“Ah! Yes! Yes, please, feed me Mommy!” he moaned, his nipple a lightning rod to her ticklish attentions.
“Good boy…” she said in that sappy, sweet voice she reserved only for when he submitted to her whims.
As she stroked her thick nipple idly, she cupped his chin possessively with the other hand and ran a finger across his lips. He meekly parted them, long having abandoned any hope of resisting her desires, letting her slip a finger in between them.
She slid her finger in and out of his mouth, covetously, and then slid it out to tickle under his chin.
“Such a good boy for Mommy. Mommy always knows what’s best for her little boy…”
She thrust her throbbing nipple between his lips, and groaned in delight as he began to suckle...
Obediently.