[en] [preggo] Breeding, pt 2
ADS
Previous: Breeding, pt 1
The slave knelt on the silk cushion, her hands resting as they habitually did now, on the round form of her belly. She loved the feel of the skin so stretched by what was growing within her, what her master had gifted, entrusted to her. He had provided her with a range of clothes that best showed off her condition. Not for her were shapeless maternity dresses. Instead, she now typically wore shiny lycra leggings and tops.
Master picked out those that had the wettest look but were forgiving and eased them on to her changing body as she stood passively accepting his latest gift. Her patent ankle boots were flat heeled now but still complemented the rest of her outfit. In these clothes her distended nipples and belly button were prominent in the shiny black; no-one could be under any illusion that she was not heavily pregnant.
From her wrist hung a small jet carving modelled on those Stone Age ones showing the big breasted, big hipped fertility goddesses people had then worshipped; the slave felt she had become one of them. Yet, there was a difference: she was not the one who was worshipped; she was the one who was commanded and she was the one who had been compelled to become like this, ordered to open herself to her master’s cum and to allow herself to be bred.
The slave thought about what she had become. She thought of herself now as less than a slave: she was a broodmare, to be serviced by master, to be altered by what he did to her, to become the vessel for the life he created. She dreamt of being used that way again and again; not knowing when master would choose to breed her once more, but ready to fulfil that role whenever he required. The mare knew that she was sexy to master because she served him this way.
Despite her pregnancy, their sex had not stopped, and she enjoyed still drinking his jism from his cock or having it jetted inside her. She knew from history that whilst in labour women would have their man couple with them so as to ease the release of the child. Master knew those who accepted that method even today and so she would be bringing her child forth with master servicing her much the way he had done when he had first impregnated her. The mare quivered at that thought, feeling that it further confirmed that her master and herself stood outside the normal expectations of society. They lived in that society, but were apart from it, the way they existed; the way they behaved, ensured that.
The door opened. It was her master, she knew
She kept her eyes down to the floor and, as often, studied his boots first. He reached down and attached her leash to the ring of her collar, a new one with more leeway but still locked to her, signaling that she was owned.
– Stand – the mare’s master commanded and she, of course, obeyed.
Bar her bracelet and her collar, the mare was naked, the extent of her body shaped by her master’s gift in full view. She reached to brush a strand of her long brunette hair away from her face and back over her shoulder. Master ensured that even in these days she had her hair well kept; her finger and toenails manicured and painted her favorite red shade.
The mare could not resist but caress her nipples. Their sensitivity came both from her condition and the fact that to be being bred this way excited her so much day after day, that it was impossible to douse her arousal. Master glanced back at her and nodded for her to continue, apparently pleased that she was still so enjoying her role as his broodmare.
Her master pulled not harshly on her leash and the mare followed where he led. She was unable to stop herself running her fingers over her rounded body, reshaped and made so appealing by what her master had done to her. She loved the fact that this shape, this very form of her had been given to her by him, just as previously her attitudes, her assumptions, her whole outlook had been crafted for her by his will.
They stepped from the corridor into a room larger than the one they had left. Its floors, however, were also of dark wood. Around the room, lit only by amber up-lights, were others like her and her master.
The men reclined on chairs whilst their slaves sat at their heels. The mare knew many of the half-dozen here well from events similar to this. It delighted her to be paraded in front of them like this, clearly bred by her master. She hoped that her example would influence others. Through the shadows left by the lighting, she made out the young woman she knew had recently joined the group and envisaged her being encouraged by what she saw tonight to also become bred from.
Now, her master led the mare into the center of the room and stood to one side. She lowered her gaze once more.
– I have the pleasure to introduce my slave, now fully serviced by me, carrying that which I sired. She has proven to be the most perfect broodmare and I know she will be an excellent dam.
With this declaration the masters clapped. The mare felt thrilled by that recognition, the fact that she was on show to those who completely understood what she truly represented, nothing more than a bred slave. As her master guided her, the mare turned around, her breasts and her belly shifting gently as she did, reminding both her and the audience of just how reshaped they were.
Then master stepped away and gestured to the audience
Each stood and came over to the mare, running their hands gently but in a searching manner over her belly, her thighs, around her breasts and their nipples and down between her legs. This handling aroused the mare even further and she worried she would orgasm as she stood there.
Satisfied, the masters retreated back to their chairs but let their slaves out on their leashes. More gently, in a far more feminine way, these women, like herself owned and most likely to be some day bred as she had been, stroked and kissed her flesh. They licked her nipples and gently took turns to run their fingers along her pussy lips and to catch her aroused clitoris until the mare could no longer hold back a moan of pleasure. That elicited another round of applause.
Finally, the slaves retreated back, and the broodmare stood shuddering with the wonderful mental and physical impact of all that had happened to her. Her master came around to the front of her and pressing on her belly lifted her chin and then pressed a kiss deeply on her; she chased his tongue with her own though, aware that she was hovering on the edge of climax. Her master’s chest pressed on her nipples just took this further.
Without another word, the mare’s master stepped back and led her from the room through a different door. It went into another room where a large leather-sheet bed stood. Her master turned the slave and pushed her back on to the bed. He held firm to her leash but spread her legs. Then his cock was clear, and she felt it butting against the slick lips of her pussy. It slipped inside so easily and went so deeply.
The mare needed no more than this, but she bent upwards to stare across her large breasts parted as she was laid prone, over the mound of her belly, that signaled what she had become, to see her master, his rising pleasure clear on his face as he thrust into her. The grunt he emitted, and the closing of his eyes showed that he too had been excited by this evening’s show.
As the orgasm crashed over the mare, and she twisted and turned, shrieked and yelped as it ran into every fiber, she felt more of his jism running into her. Again, it was all asserted on to her: she knew what she had been, what she had been made and what she was now. She had been bred by her master and nothing could ever alter that.
![[en] [cuckold] My Hotwife Telling Me about Her Quickies](https://mindblowing.zone/wp-content/plugins/pt-content-views-pro/public/assets/images/lazy_image.png)