You’re going to do what Pupkin says, he told her, or Pupkin will hurt you. Louise was already in kindergarten. She knew that grown-ups only expected one answer when they talked to you in that voice. “Yes, Pupkin,” she whispered. Pupkin squirmed with pleasure and dragged himself over her throbbing hand, swallowing it up inside the hungry hole in his body, and she felt him flexing and rippling around her forearm, gripping her, holding on tight. Then he lodged himself underneath her chin, nuzzling himself against her neck. Pupkin’s going to have so much fun, he cooed.
