God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem-Chapter 583: Breast Milk Gun

Kafka obliged, his next slap landing with a bit more force, the sound echoing as her breast bounced wildly, a fresh handprint flaring bright against her skin.

"That's my girl." He growled, his own excitement evident in the tightness of his grip, the way his eyes devoured her every reaction. "Taking it so well—Daddy's proud of you, even if you're a filthy little mess."

His hands then moved with a relentless, rhythmic precision, each slap against Camila's tender breasts sending a jolt of electric heat through her body.

Her skin glowed a deep, mottled red now, the handprints overlapping into a chaotic map of their shared desire, her nipples swollen and hypersensitive from his teasing pinches and twists.

Her moans also grew louder, wilder, her voice a raw, unbroken stream of "Daddy—oh fuck—yes, yes!♡~" as the pleasure built inside her, a tight coil winding tighter with every stinging strike.

Her thighs trembled, slick with her arousal, the fabric of her pants clinging wetly to her skin as her pussy pulsed with need.

"Harder, Daddy, please!...I'm so close!♡~" She begged, her body arching into each hit, chasing the edge she could feel looming just out of reach.

Kafka nodded, his next slap landing with a sharp crack across her left breast, the force sending it bouncing wildly as she cried out, her nails digging into his arms. "That's it, baby girl." He growled, his voice rough with his own mounting excitement. "Let it build—let Daddy push you there."

The slaps came faster now—slap, slap, slap—a lewd banter of sultry nosies that filled the room, her breasts jiggling and swaying with every impact, the pain and pleasure blurring into a single, overwhelming sensation.

Camila's breath finally stopped, her eyes rolling back as the coil inside her snapped, and immediately hot wave of ecstacy crashed through her.

"Oh God!♡~ Daddy I'm about to—!" Her words dissolved into a scream as she came, her pussy clenching hard as she squirted, a gush of wetness soaking through her pants, drenching the fabric and pooling beneath her.

"Splurt!♡~ Splish!♡~ Gloop!♡~ Sploosh!♡~"

"Squelch!♡~ Glug!♡~ Thwap!♡~ Squish!♡~"

Her knees buckled, her body collapsing forward as her battered, bruised breasts pressed into Kafka's chest, the tender flesh throbbing against him as she clung to him, shuddering through the aftershocks.

Kafka's arms also wrapped around her instantly, strong and steady, holding her up as she sagged against him, her breath ragged and hot against his neck.

He hugged her tight, one hand stroking her back as the other cradled her head, his voice softening into a low, teasing murmur.

"Well, damn, sweetheart." He said, a chuckle rumbling in. his chest. "Seems like you enjoyed that a little too much. Here I was, trying to punish you, and you're falling apart like that?"

"...Guess I've failed as a father as I couldn't even discipline you properly, could I?"

Camila shook her head weakly, still panting as she tilted her face up to meet his gaze, her eyes shining with a mix of exhaustion and adoration.

"No, Daddy." She whispered, her voice tender and loving despite the rasp of overuse. "You didn't fail at all—you're the best father I could ever have."

"...Showing your daughter so much pleasure, making me feel like this? Nobody else could do that. You're perfect."

She pushed herself up on her tiptoes, her body trembling with the effort, and pressed her lips to his in a deep, passionate kiss.

Her tongue slipped past his lips, hungry and fervent, tasting him as she poured every ounce of her devotion into it, her bruised breasts brushing against him with every shaky breath.

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When she finally pulled back, her lips swollen and glistening, a flicker of anxious excitement crossed her face.

She bit her lip, her voice dropping to a nervous, hopeful whisper. "Daddy...Do you think—do you think this was enough? Enough for me to...start l-lactating like you said?"

Kafka's eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down at her, his hand still resting on her back. "So you want to know if your breasts are working or not, huh?" He mused, his tone teasing but intrigued.

"Well, baby girl, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?" His smirk widened, a wicked glint sparking in his gaze. "But this time, I'm not doing the milking. You've had Daddy's hands all over you —now I wanna see you do it. All by yourself, so show me what you've got."

Camila blinked, caught off guard, a flush creeping up her cheeks as the suggestion sank in. "Me?" She stammered, her voice a little of surprise and budding arousal.

But then her lips curved into a lewd, eager smile, her eyes lighting up with the challenge. "Yes, Daddy." She purred, her tone shifting to something sultry and obedient. "If that's what you want, I'll do it—for you."

She then stepped back just enough to give herself room, her hands trembling slightly as they rose to her chest, hovering over her battered breasts.

She started slow, her fingers brushing the tender, red skin, a soft hiss escaping her lips at the sensitivity. "Like this, Daddy?" She asked, glancing at him with a coy, pleading look as she cupped herself, her palms pressing into the swollen flesh.

She squeezed gently at first, testing the pressure, then harder, her thumbs grazing her nipples as she bit her lip, a quiet moan slipping out.

"I'll milk them for you...I'm going try so hard to please you." Her hands kneaded and pressed, rolling her breasts in her grip, her movements growing more confident as she fell into the rhythm, her arousal flaring anew at the thought of him watching.

"Fuck, look at me, Daddy." She breathed, her voice ful of need as she pinched her nipples, tugging slightly, her body swaying as she worked herself. "All bruised up from you, trying to get some milk out—just for you. You think it'll happen? You think I can do it?"

Her fingers pressed deeper, massaging with intent, her breath hastening as she pushed her limits, the soreness blending with a fresh wave of pleasure under his approving gaze.

"Tell me I'm doing good—tell me you like it, please." Her eyes stayed locked on his, desperate for his reaction, her hands relentless as she chased the fantasy they'd built together as well as her hope of feeding her children in the future.

Kafka watched Camila with a mix of pride and wicked delight, his smirk widening as her hands worked her tender, bruised breasts with growing fervor.

"Come on, baby girl." He finally urged, his voice a low, encouraging rumble. "Do your best for Daddy—you've got it in you. Squeeze those tits hard, just like Nina did. She lactated like a champ, and I know you can too."

"...Show me you're ready andmake them give it up."

His words lit a fire in Camila, her eyes flashing with determination as she nodded eagerly. "Like Nina did?" She panted, her hands gripping her breasts tighter, fingers digging into the swollen flesh with renewed purpose. "Okay, Daddy—I'll do it, I'll be just as good—no, better! I'm gonna lactate, gonna be a real mother for you!"

Her movements turned almost frenzied, a wild mix of anticipation and raw, desperate energy as she groped and squeezed with all her heart, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

She kneaded her breasts like she was sculpting them, thumbs pressing hard against her nipples, her body trembling with the effort as she chased that elusive release.

And then—finally—it happened.

Splurt!~ Splurt!~

Two sharp spurts of milk shot out, one from each breast, the thin streams catching the light as they splashed onto her hands.

And the moment it did Camila's eyes went wide, a gasp tearing from her throat as joy, excitement, and relief flooded her all at once.

"Oh my God—Daddy!" She squealed, her voice breaking with giddy disbelief as she stared at the milky droplets clinging to her fingers.

She then started jumping up and down, her battered breasts bouncing wildly with each hop, milk dribbling down her chest as she turned to Kafka, beaming.

"Look! I did it! I can lactate! I've got milk now, Daddy! I can bear your children properly! It's all because of you—all because of my perfect, amazing father!"

And before he could respond, she launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck as she peppered his face with aggressive, sloppy kisses—cheeks, forehead, jaw, anywhere she could reach.

"You're the best—the best father in the whole fucking world!" She cried between kisses, her voice thick with adoration and exhilaration. "You made me like this—made me perfect —thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Kafka chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound as he caught her in his arms, steadying her wild energy.

"Easy there, sweetheart." He said, his tone teasing as he felt the dampness seeping into his shirt. "You shouldn't hug me like that—you're getting me all wet."

Camila froze mid-kiss, pulling back with a confused blink. "Wet?" She mumbled, then looked down at herself, her hands still hovering near her chest.

And then her eyes widened again as she realized what had happened—her breasts, squeezed tight against him in her enthusiasm, had leaked all over his shirt, the milk soaking through in messy, glistening streaks.

"Oh no!" She gasped, a laugh bubbling up as she grabbed her breasts again, staring at them in awe. "I didn't expect to leak that much!"

"...I mean, they definitely didn't leak this much when I had Bella."

She said, pulling herself out of character as she remembered the last time she has milk seeping out of her breasts.

She then cupped them gently at first, marveling at the way they felt—fuller, heavier now that she'd tapped into this new part of herself.

Then, a mischievous glint sparked in her eyes, and her lips curled into a playful, almost childlike grin. "Wait—hold on." She said, her voice dropping to a giddy whisper as she stepped back, hands tightening on her chest.

"These are too fun not to play with." And then, without warning, she pointed her breasts at him and squeezed hard, aiming the next spurt of milk right at his face.

Splurt!~

The thin stream hit his cheek with a wet splat, trickling down as she burst into delighted laughter.

"Gotcha, Daddy!" She squealed, squeezing again, sending another splash his way as she danced in place, her movements carefree and unrestrained. "Look at this—it's like a game!"

She kept going, milk spraying in little bursts as she aimed at him, giggling like a kid with a new toy, her breasts jiggling with each press.

"You made these, Daddy—you turned me into this! Aren't they the best?"

Kafka wiped a hand across his face, milk dripping from his fingers as he laughed, a rough, indulgent sound.

"You little menace." He said, shaking his head as he licked a stray drop from his thumb, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Soaking me like that? You're a damn handful, you know that? But yeah—they're the best. My perfect, leaky little girl—go on, keep playing. Let's see how much you've got in there."

He leaned back, arms crossed, letting her have her fun, his shirt already a mess as the once mature and graceful Camila giggled like a little girl and squirted, lost in the wild, erotic joy of her newfound ability.

But just as Camila was about to squeeze her breasts again, milk already beading at her nipples from the sheer fun of it, Nina suddenly stepped forward with a sharp huff, and then to her shock her hand dartee.out to deliver a quick, firm slap across Camila's tender, red-streaked chest.

Slap!~

The sudden sting made Camila yelp, her hands dropping as she stumbled back a step, blinking in surprise as she completely lost character.

"Ow—what the hell, Nina?! What was that for?!"

Nina crossed her arms, her face full of exasperation as she glared at Camila.

"Snap out of it already, you perverted lunatic of a bitch!" She scolded, her voice sharp but tinged with a laugh she couldn't quite suppress. "You're lactating now—congrats, you've got milk everywhere, you've soaked Kafka to death."

"...But enough already! It's time to let Abigaille have her shot. You've had your fun, now give her a turn."

Camila froze for a second, the wild haze of her roleplay still clinging to her, but then she blinked and let out a sheepish chuckle, her shoulders relaxing as she slipped back into her normal self.

"Oh my, sorry, sorry!" She said, waving her hands dismissively as she grinned at Nina. "I couldn't help it, okay? It's just...so damn fun! You should've seen how far I got it that last time—total blast!"

She wiped a stray drop of milk from her chin, still giggling, then turned her gaze to Abigaille, who'd been perched on the sidelines, her face a deep crimson as she watched the whole spectacle unfold.

"Go ahead, Abi." Camila said, her tone teasing but warm as she gestured toward her little sister with a playful nudge of her elbow. "Your turn now—prove you're a mother too! If Nina and I can lactate, you've gotta be able to, right?"

"...I mean, look at you—you've got the biggest tits here by a mile. No way those beauties aren't hiding some milk in there."

Abigaille's blush deepened, her hands flying up to cover her chest as she sputtered, her voice a flustered mess. "W-What?! Bigger breasts don't mean I can just...just lactate like that!"

She protested, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape.

"That's not how it works, Camila and you can't just assume I'll...You know!"

But even as she stumbled over her words, her gaze flicked to Kafka, lingering there with a mix of nerves and something hotter—anticipation, maybe, or curiosity—her breath catching as she imagined what might come next.

Camila caught the look and smirked, stepping closer to nudge Abigaille again. "Oh, come on, don't play shy now. You've been watching us this whole time, all red and squirmy. You're dying to see what Kafka's gonna do to you, aren't you? How he's gonna milk those massive tits of yours?"

"...Bet you're already getting excited just thinking about it."

"Camila!" Abigaille squeaked, her hands pressing tighter against her chest as if she could hide the evidence of her fluster. "That's—I'm not—I mean—"

She trailed off, her protest crumbling as her eyes flicked back to Kafka again, her lips parting slightly as her imagination ran wild.

The way he'd handled Camila and Nina, the slaps, the beatings, the pinches, the teasing, the raw intensity of it all—it was impossible not to wonder how he'd approach her, what he'd do to coax milk from her if he even could.

Her pulse quickened, a faint heat blooming low in her belly as she shifted on her feet, caught between embarrassment and a growing, undeniable thrill of how her son was going to milk her next...