“Mercedes? No one said you can stop.” Lorraine said, gesturing to Clarabelle. (Patreon)

“Ah, Clarabelle. A great name for a milk cow. Perhaps I should milk you. It’s my job, after all,” she teased, as the flat of the guard’s sword reddened the chubby cheeks in front of her, making the large woman jiggle with each smack.