Earth Goddess' Nectar: The Complete Novella: (Paranormal Fantasy Erotica)

Earth Goddess' Nectar: The Complete Novella

(
Paranormal Fantasy Erotica)

Jill Soffalot

Copyright 2014 Jill Soffalot

Wild Charm Publishing Amazon Edition

Cover Design Sam Butters

Table of Contents

Chapter One: An Expose of the Thorne Family

Chapter Two: The Milking P
arlor of Eshabaar

Chapter Three: Lit
tle Soldiers

Chapter
Four: Eshabaar, Mother of Life

Chapter
Five: Old Squelchy’s Wrigglies

Chapter
Six: An Unexpected Pang of Maternal Need

Chapter Seven: Sexually Desirous Mother Creature

Chapter
Eight: Earth Father Holds a Grudge

Chapter Nine
: Demi-Goddess in the Womb of the World

Chapter
Ten: Seed and Milk, the Eternal War

Chapter Eleven
: Storm Brewing in the Western Sky

Chapter
Twelve: Nathan's Lost His Mind

Chapter
Thirteen: Esther Thorne’s True Love

Chapter
Fourteen: Kill the Queen

Chapter Fifteen
: Emma's Indigo Throne

About
the Author

Connect w
ith Author

Other B
ooks by Jill Soffalot

Chapter One:
An Expose of the Thorne Family

Emma Lake tapped her fingers nervously against her tablet as she waited for the Thorne twins. She consciously resisted the urge to chew a strand of her long blonde hair. It was a habit that stretched back to the halcyon days of her youth, and the impulse would often sneak up on her when she felt uncomfortable. She knew it was irrational and unprofessional, a subliminal yearning for escape from the perilous present to an untroubled time of scraped knees and butterfly hunts.

She was a grown woman now, twenty-five years old and blessed with sensual lips and heavy breasts she tried to deemphasize by wearing loose-fitting clothes. They were ample evidence that the carefree idyll of her childhood was a distant memory. But on days like today, faced with the enormity of interviewing two of the most powerful businessman in the city, part of her wished that she was still a child with her arms wrapped around her mother’s neck and her mouth buried in her breasts.

She was seated in an ultra-modern interview room on Thorne Tower’s first floor, her silvery legs uncrossing as she rechecked the time on her watch. 14:17. The duo rather unimaginatively dubbed "the Milk Brothers" were unfashionably late. The office was ascetically furnished, with two curve-backed white chairs positioned across the table from her on splayed chrome legs.

Indeed, the entire building was a monument to austerity and color-drained minimalism. But Emma wasn’t particularly interested in the color palate of the business’s urban façade. She was far more concerned with the dairy farms located in the rolling hills to the west of the city, stretching out for miles and culminating in the massive milk parlor guarded like a missile silo at the base of the Laguna Mountains. Then there were the children…

The center for orphans and victims of child abuse was apparently fully operational, and it too was located in the hidden fortresses that skirted the foot of the mountain.

Why did they build a state-of-the-art dairy processing farm in such a dreary, remote location? And why then did they choose to build an auxiliary structure for unfortunate children in the shadow of those forbidding crags?

The facility was aptly named
Children of the Mountain
, and it was the only building on the sprawling lot that ever received visitors from the general public. Adoptive parents sang the praises of the institution and the good work of the Thorne family, and Emma had seen a few of the charming tykes in her fruitless interviews with ebullient new parents. The Thornes had never been celebrated for their philanthropy, and the whole business stank of marketing manipulation. Thinking of smiling babes and those mysterious complexes with their machine gun-wielding guards, her green eyes fixed on the tall glass of Mother’s Milk placed on the table before her.

Nice touch
,
thought Emma as she stared at the frothy white liquid. It was their immensely popular new organic flavor, and the fuzzy reports that were available indicated this was one of the products being manufactured at the new milk parlor. It was billed as "nature’s antidote to the corruptive influences of modern living", which Emma thought was a fairly pretentious way of saying organic.

But consumers loved it, praising its deep flavor and superiority to anything else available in stores. Some studies even suggested that extended consumption could greatly reduce stress and anxiety, and full control over this magical substance was now firmly in the hands of the brothers Thorne.

The twins had inherited the multi-billion dollar dairy empire following the sudden death of Esther Thorne two weeks ago. She was the formidable matriarch who transformed the ailing company into the dominant force in the market during the early nineties. It was under her stewardship that the Laguna constructions had been authorized at the turn of the century, and commentators who branded the development a quixotic folly were soon forced to swallow their words as Mother’s Milk became the most sought-after milk in the Western world.

All competitors were marginalized or crushed in the wake of the Thorne monolith, and many powerful men were known to quake at the approach of the foul-mouthed, uncompromising Esther. But her eccentricities and vulgarities were generally minimized in public discourse. After all, the Thornes’ stunning success was the embodiment of the capitalist dream.

Who cared if Esther Thorne had the reputation of being a bit of a cunt if she was one of the richest women in the world?

But Emma wasn’t here to blow smoke up their asses or ask them how wonderful it was to be billionaires. She was an investigative journalist for a local online newspaper, and she had been digging into the Thornes’ shady history for months. Esther had sheltered the twins from public scrutiny, and little was known about them beyond vague reports of Nathan’s predilection for expensive call girls. Request after request for a meeting had been turned down (probably due to the inflammatory reputation of her publication), and all she wanted was a private tour of the facilities.

Rumors abounded about their regulatory practices and the precise contents of Mother’s Milk, which was a secret guarded more closely than
milk
would seem to require. She reached for the glass and brought it to her lips.
It is delicious.
Sweet yet earthy, and creamier than any milk Emma had ever tasted.

A gnawing anxiety mixed with boredom compelled her to distract herself. Her breasts were straining against the fabric of her grey chiffon blouse, her nipples crinkling in the chilly room. Emma struggled to find bras that fit her comfortably, so she preferred to go braless whenever she could. She enjoyed stroking her areolae and the tender undersides of her breasts when the mood struck her (which was often), so removing this second barrier between her fingertips and her tits did have its advantages. She looked down at her breasts and traced the outline of a nipple through her shirt. She let out a tiny gasp and shivered at the sensation, her nerve endings jangling beneath her circling fingertip.

Her breasts had always been extremely sensitive, and she had experienced orgasms merely from having them sucked. All of her ex-lovers were slavishly devoted to her bounteous chest for a time. They sucked and chewed and ejaculated on the soft flesh, lathered them in saliva, and licked champagne off her nipples. But they all grew weary when she expressed her desire for
more
. While Emma loved having her tits fondled and adored by these various men, she desperately wanted one of them to take her nipple between his lips and nurse until she lactated. Unfortunately, the men recoiled when she made the suggestion, arguing that it was perverse and emasculating to ask a grown man to drink her milk.

Emma could still see their abashed faces and hear their pompous moralizing when she closed her eyes.
You only wanted to be closer to them, to heighten the intimacy, and watch their hot mouths overflow with the milk of your love. Didn’t they see that?

She had yet to find someone she could feed, and she didn’t want to trawl the internet looking for a partner in some dreadful chat-room or fetish site. She wanted her man-child to walk fully formed into her life, and while she waited, she would content herself with fantasies and her expert hands.

Emma’s pussy was getting moist as her breast tingled beneath her finger. Remembering where she was and what she was here to do, she pushed her swelling chest and wet thighs from her mind and grasped the edges of her tablet.

You are here to get some answers from Andrew and
Nathan Thorne, not to masturbate in one of their offices!
She composed herself and gazed at the empty glass of milk. Frustrated, she was preparing to leave when a door panel slid open to her left. One minute earlier and the Thorne twins would have had quite an eyeful.

Andrew and Nathan Thorne were virtually identical in navy blue suits with starched white shirts beneath. They shared their late mother’s raven hair and aristocratic facial features. High cheekboned and angular, they were Thorne through and through. But they also had the blue eyes and toned physiques of their father, a muscular land surveyor who had died when they were still children.

As they took their seats, Andrew extended a strong hand, his skin surprisingly warm in the room’s frigid air, “Good-day, Miss Lake. Sorry we were late, this whole handover business has been quite demanding of our time. But Nathan and I are both huge fans of your publication, and we would be happy to assist you in any way possible.” Andrew smiled shyly, and its effect was disarming enough for Emma to feel slightly guilty for cursing their tardiness.

His eyes passed over Emma’s breasts and lingered for a second, and a flush crept up her neck as she watched the subtle tremor of his lips. Nathan said nothing, his eyes cold and distant.

“It’s no problem. I’m so sorry for your loss. By all accounts your mother was a remarkable woman.”

Nathan snorted as he lit a thin black cigarette. His eyes were heavily lidded and he stank of alcohol. He was obviously here against his will, and he regarded Emma with unveiled contempt.

“By all accounts, I’m sure. Now, why don’t you tell us why you’re here? You know Laguna is private property. So, unless you have a warrant, Agent Starling, you aren’t going up there.” He put his feet up on the table, the soles of his black shoes blurred by the drained glass of milk.

Emma swallowed her nerves and went in for the kill, “Well, as you know,
The Oracle
is interested in doing an expose of the Thorne family. This isn’t going to be a puff-piece. We want full access. Detailed interviews, tours of your various properties, the orphanage, Laguna…”

Nathan laughed derisively, “You interrupt our grieving to ask us for a tour of the fucking milk parlors? What did I tell you Andy? These people can’t take no for an answer!”

“Nathan, be cordial, she’s only doing her job.” Andrew put a hand on his brother’s shoulder to calm him, but Nathan shuddered at his touch and moved his chair away a few inches. It was a strange moment, and Emma wondered about the true nature of their relationship.

She cleared her throat and tried a different approach, “Consider this Mr. Throne: your company’s image hasn’t always been the most, shall I say, cheery. This could be an opportunity to dispel public misconceptions about…”

“I don't give a fuck what the public thinks! Honey, we are multi-billionaires. Have you seen our share prices? The public could think we’re child-killing Satanists and it wouldn’t make a difference. We don’t have to explain ourselves to anyone, especially not some trumped up secretary with big titties. Now, does that dispel any of your misconceptions about us?”

He had leaned forward during his eruption, his face inches away from Emma’s as he unloaded his vitriol. When he was finished, he flung the glass against the far wall where it shattered with an ear-splitting crash. Satisfied at her shocked silence, Nathan stood up and swaggered to the door.

“You take care of her, Andy. I know how you love them big udders.” Coup de grace delivered, he left Emma alone with Andrew Thorne.

Andrew blushed with embarrassment, “You’ll have to forgive my brother Miss Lake. Our mother’s death has shaken him worse than he will let himself admit. And there are other matters, business issues… He has a lot on his mind right now. I know what he said was unforgivable, but don’t judge him by what you saw today.”

Andrew reached out and touched her hand, his handsome face apologetic.

How can two people who are physically identical seem so absolutely different? But still, he must love his brother. How else could he defend such awful behavior?

He smiled broadly, and his eyes flitted once more to Emma’s voluptuous curves. He glanced away hurriedly, but in that instant Emma could see the insatiable hunger, the barely repressed urge to tear open her blouse and burrow his gorgeous face in her yielding flesh…

Emma pulled her hand away from his, alarmed by how quickly her terrified speechlessness had been replaced by arousal.

“Make it up to me then. Take me up to Laguna. Nathan doesn’t have to know, it’ll just be you and me.”

Andrew grimaced, his eyes downcast as he rose from his chair. “I would love to, Miss Lake, but I simply can’t. The earth mother is almost upon us, and there is much work to be done. Perhaps we can meet again at a later time. You are very beautiful.”

The cryptic words lingered in the air as the sad-eyed Thorne followed the asshole one from the room. Emma looked at the shards of cloudy glass and placed an unsteady hand beneath her breast.
Earth mother?