Breeders, page 2
No wonder they called it a heat.
There was no resisting. Dipping a finger into the slick, I sought my clit, gasping at the intensity of the sensation. Everything was so much more sensitive right now. More gently than my initial attempt, I found the swollen bud and gave it a tentative touch.
Fireworks spread from the site, and I arched back as a wave of pleasure coursed through my body. All those times I’d touched myself, it had taken time to reach these heights, but now my body was in overdrive, ready to give me pleasure as soon as I relented to its devilish desires.
Just when I was about to dip my fingers into the slick and chase the sensation, I heard the squeak of the door. Startled, my hand darted away, and I sat partway up, pulling the offending hand to my chest and hoping whoever it was hadn’t seen. Some part of me expected it to be the coordinator again, but the balding man in his lab coat didn’t appear.
Instead, a naked man wearing a rubber hawk mask that covered his face and hair all the way to the base of his thick neck stood in the doorway. The cocking of his head matched the bird mask he wore, and I fought the urge to giggle.
Fuck. Number one. Of how many, I had no clue. Did he like what he saw? I nervously covered a freckled arm with my hand. But all thoughts of freckles and shyness were gone when he stepped closer to the bed, and I felt the warmth of his body close to mine. I was instantly consumed by an arousal so intense it pulled a needy moan from my lips.
How long would I be like this before the heat was satisfied? He moved slowly, and I drank in his body. Muscles rippled across his tanned abdomen, seemingly etched in stone, and—shit, shit, shit—his cock was already fully erect. He was ready for me and damned if I wasn’t ready for him. Just the thought of him plunging into my wet heat had a phantom wave of pleasure sending me back to the bed, my eyes rolling as my head pressed into the mattress, and I arched towards him in a silent plea.
Hands grabbed my hips and steadied me, pulling me gently to the edge of the strap’s reach, positioning me at the end of the bed. I gasped at the friction of the mattress on my oversensitive skin. I looked up to find him watching me, but I couldn’t see his eyes through the deep, recessed sockets of his mask.
He gripped me more firmly and pressed in, groaning his pleasure. It was too much, and I threw myself against the bed, thrashing as I writhed on his cock, rolling my hips into him and trying to drive him deeper, though I could feel he was sunk to the hilt. I wanted more. I gripped the side rails to brace myself.
The friction of him pulling out and slamming back in nearly killed me with pleasure. He hadn’t even touched my clit, and I was already near my release. Stars danced in my vision. Each thrust was a tiny orgasm. But it was all building to something even more. I desperately tried to meet his thrusts. The angle gave him more control over our rhythm, but I still slammed my hips down into his. He gripped my hips as he worked towards his own needs.
Faster, harder. I wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything. I was spiraling, getting closer to something bigger than the tendrils of pleasure already tearing their way through my body. The Hawk came with a throaty groan that echoed in the room, massaging my thighs as his warm seed spilled inside of me. But I wasn’t there yet, and my body craved more friction. With a final grunt, he pulled himself loose and moved one of the two bedside tables to retrieve a tissue.
Eyeing his limp cock with wide-eyed horror, I watched as he wiped himself clean.
I needed more. I wasn’t there yet. I could cry with the cruelty of it, and that’s just what I did. Embarrassing tears streamed down my face, and I couldn’t stop them. Without looking back at me, the man paused before grabbing a water bottle and exited the room, giving me a perfect view of his tight ass. Frustrated, I moaned my misery as I lay on the bed. The burning, while partially sated by The Hawk, increased again, leaving me even more miserable. But I didn’t have to wait long before the door cracked once again and a man wearing a plague doctor’s mask walked in.
Like the man before, his mask covered his face and hair, leaving me no clue as to his identity. This man was heavyset, with thick shoulders and a belly that jutted out nearly to the length of his hard cock. Normally, I don’t think I would like that kind of body, but right now? He looked fantastic. I was pretty sure I would fuck anything with a cock in this state, and the man didn’t leave me waiting.
He went straight to the bed, grabbing my hips with a roughness I was surprised to find I enjoyed. The Hawk had taken me deeply, but I’d been craving a little more force, and The Plague Doctor didn’t disappoint. His fingers made indents on my skin as he thrust hard into my pussy, grunting each time, the sound of his flesh striking me like music to my ears.
Teeth clanging together with each jarring thrust, I held onto the side rails for dear life. I sank deep into the ripples of pleasure, feeling each explosion building. The man came with a roar, and I got a taste of heaven, crying out and grasping his hands on my hips, desperate to hold him in place as the orgasm settled deep into my bones. On and on it went until he at last pulled away from my hands and left me on the bed. Craving more. I wanted to stay in that high, but it was impossible now that he had left. I was sticky and wet, but not satisfied. Never satisfied.
Damn, the other girls were right. I couldn’t imagine caring about food or drink—not when all I wanted was release after release, until the beast inside of me was satisfied and would allow me a moment’s rest. Everything else I’d wanted in my life—to be loyal to the pack, to serve the alpha, to be a mother—paled in comparison to this.
I imagined what I must look like—my heated cheeks a splotchy red, my long dirty blonde hair a mess from all the thrashing around. I groaned as another wave of need overwhelmed me, but all I could do was arch back into the bed, the waterproof mattress cover pinching at my skin. My pussy felt like a gaping, empty void without a man there.
This was pure, utter torture.
I barely noticed the next man entering the room and pulling me gently to the edge of the bed, not until he sank home, and the terrible emptiness was filled again. I moaned my approval, feeling my pleasure building anew as his hips found the right rhythm.
He didn’t last long, coming far too soon and moving to the table to wipe himself. I found myself crying again. Was it always like this? None of the women I’d talked to had mentioned crying, but it had felt so good and now he was moving away, closing the door behind him.
I was lost in the haze of sex, constantly somewhere between torture and ecstasy. More men came, to touch me, to fill me, and it felt incredible each time. A rolling orgasm that was easily triggered and left my body begging for more. But then they would leave, and I would be alone in my bed—half mad with need and consumed by an emptiness begging to be filled.
Sex was all I wanted. Every other dream and thought I’d had in my life paled compared to the feeling of touching heaven and practically living there. How many men had been inside me? I didn’t know, but I knew the moment I was exhausted because I simply could not thrash around as I had. My body was still desperately on fire. Begging for touch. Primed for it. The need to be filled and penetrated and stuffed with warm sticky seed overwhelmed all other thoughts and needs, but my energy was waning.
At last, the haze began to lift, and I looked up to find a man wearing a Ram’s mask with one hand still on the knob, staring down at me. Silently, he closed the door and came to where I lay on the bed. Now, his body was beautiful, and even without the heat pumping through my veins as it was, I knew I would think so.
He was all compact muscle with thick forearms and beautiful hands I could appreciate even with the heat still clouding my vision. I couldn’t see his eyes properly with the mask on, but I could tell he was looking down at me by the way his chin angled downward.
I wanted him. My heat surged, and my nipples tightened excruciatingly, desperately. I gripped at the side rails, pleased once again they were there for me to use as a brace for myself. Moaning, I arched my back, already imagining the sweet kiss of pleasure his cock would give me, but he just stood there.
He didn’t touch me for an eternity—just hovered over my body, close enough I could feel his heat. I wiggled my hips, trying to encourage him closer, but he stayed put. I managed a strangled “please.” My voice pitched so low and husky I barely recognized it, but still he remained motionless. Begging—shit, that was a new low—but I couldn’t care less.
Frustrated, I slammed my head back, moaning as another wave of heat skittered across my skin, a rolling taste of the release I needed leaving me filled with an agony that promised the most exquisite bliss. Then his hands were on me, running up and down my legs, and it felt amazing. My body was in overdrive again and when he began to softly palm my thighs, tendrils of pleasure shot straight to my core.
His nimble fingers crept up towards my swollen nub, but I cried out when he grazed it. I was too sensitive for that right now, the feeling bringing more pain than pleasure. He moved away from my clit—thank god—lightly running his hands up my torso to play with my tight nipples. But they were just as sensitive, and the gentle pinch of his fingers sent a bolt of pain through my system. I would have launched off the bed if not for the railings holding me in place. Squirming beneath his touch, I moved further down the bed and closer to the cock I so badly needed.
“Shhhhh.” The soft shushing was strangely soothing, and I felt my muscles relax in response. His hands returned to my thighs, massaging them more firmly now, and I felt another small orgasm tear through my body. Crying out, I gripped the side rails, and with my face turned sideways, I began to cry again. Big, wet tears dribbled down my face to soak the slippery material beneath me.
“Please.” I was like an animal before him, but I no longer cared what this man or any other thought of me. I just needed so badly to be filled again. He stopped massaging my thighs for a moment to stare down at me again.
Finally, I felt him positioning his tip at my entrance. I gasped, trying to wiggle lower and press myself down on it, but the straps hindered my movement. He shushed me again, his hands moving in slow firm circles across my inner thighs as he carefully pressed into my soaking heat.
I cried out, bucking my hips to create friction. He was large, but between all the cum and my own juices, he slid into place until our bodies were flush with each other.
The rhythm was slow and steady—not what I’d wanted—but his hands on my inner thighs held me firmly as he pressed in to take me deeper. He spread my legs wider, stretching me around him and the extra sensation of his ministrations drove me towards the edge of something new.
I spiraled, coming undone beneath him. Wanting it harder and faster but settling for the pace he set. I couldn’t stop it. My orgasm tore through me and continued. Screaming, my body clenched helplessly around him, craving the roughness he was unwilling to give.
Slowly, I came back down, spasming until the waves of my release lightened and I could breathe again. But he was still hard and still moving at that slow, maddening pace.
Gripping the cold metal of the side rails as tightly as I could, I whipped my head from side to side, seeking an escape from the pain and pleasure my heat brought. I felt it building again, coiling tighter and tighter, and I was a helpless passenger along for the ride.
The hands on my thighs moved to my hips, still gentle but more insistent and filled with need. He gripped me hard, and I got the punishing pace I’d wanted from him as he pulled away and slammed back in. If not for his hands holding me firmly in place, he would have shoved me up the bed with the force of his thrusts.
He was like a man possessed, the sounds of his throaty groans mingling with my own as tremors of pleasure took me higher. Then he was on the bed with me, pushing me farther up the mattress to make space for himself. His hands bracketed my face. The warmth of his body pressed closer to mine felt so damned good.
Faster now, he took me like he was experiencing his own heat. Like he was as caught up in me as I was with him, and it was intoxicating to watch him come undone with me. I cried out as another orgasm tore through me, just as violent as the last. It was all I could do to hold on to the rails and breathe through it. My core was tight around him for so long that I was sure I would die.
This was exactly what I’d needed, my own passion, my own need reflected in a man, like some part of me had been waiting for him. His guttural groan echoed through the room as his warm seed spilled inside of me, and my head dropped back as the exquisite feeling drove me higher. The push and pull around my clenching pussy was heaven, and it took me forever to come back down, pleasure continuing to consume me as he slowly went limp. He stayed inside of me until the rolling waves of my ecstasy finally eased, and I was a boneless mess beneath him.
He hovered over me, looking down for a moment longer before carefully pulling away. The Ram’s body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and I wondered what it tasted like. Stupid. I found my voice but didn’t know what to say as he moved to the table and wiped himself down.
What did you say to someone who you had shared something so profound with? More than any of the others, I had felt like he had come to take care of me. To ease my suffering and focus on my pleasure, not his own, and with him, I’d climbed to a height previously unreached. The way he’d touched me, gripped me, stayed with me—there’d been a passion to it that went far beyond anything I’d ever expected from the breeding program. I wanted to say thank you, but the words refused to come. Thank you, how stupid. Saying thank you to a breeding male who derived their own pleasure from the act.
But I could talk if I chose to. I felt it. The only thing I’d been able to say this whole time had been the occasional pleading words, but now? I felt more like myself, and my skin didn’t prickle with the heat and hypersensitivity that had so consumed my every thought.
The Ram paused at the door to look back. He breathed heavily, and I got the impression he wanted to say something, the urgency apparent in the tension of his hand on the doorframe. I waited, sure that his differentness meant something. But then he did turn, closing the door and moving away, off to clean up like all the others.
Sighing, I leaned back onto the bed—the first night of my heat had finally ended. Had it been a night or had it gone on for longer? I was hungry and parched enough that it may as well have been a week. I felt around the side of the bed for the call button to let them know my heat was finished. I’d been dreading this, wanting somehow to get a baby without engaging in the act of sex, but now? A part of me wished I didn’t get pregnant this cycle so I could go again.
The heat faded, and a mousy young woman wearing a freshly pressed lab coat and rubber gloves so at odds with her messy brown hair came in. The coordinator’s assistant. With an apologetic smile, she stepped between my legs and dipped a gloved finger into my pussy. I looked away as her finger squelched into place.
“Great job, Cassie, was it? I see plenty of opportunity for a successful pregnancy.”
Chapter 2
Cassie.
Of course, it had to be her. The girl I’d had a crush on since I saw her making a flower necklace out of dandelions by the swings in the schoolyard. With her golden hair and bubbly smile, she was popular, but it hadn’t made her cruel the way it did with some girls. No, not Cassie. She was nice to everyone. Even me. The outcast. The one always on the outside looking in.
I’d been the kid the others liked to tease and beat up, but Cassie had never been that way. She’d just grin and invite me to play, her cheeks dimpling as though it were the simplest thing in the world. Not that I ever said anything back, but she was my personal sunshine, and I’d always tried to stay near her, to bask in her seemingly boundless joy.
I’d seen her a few times since they had separated us from the family compound and taken me and the other boys to the barracks to trial us as guards, an all-important position only the most elite would claim, but I hadn’t realized how beautiful she’d become. Not really. Sure, I’d seen the womanly curve of her hips and her pert breasts from a distance, but last night…
Fuck. I sent the wire wastebasket sailing across the smooth ceramic tiles, where it clattered into the wall, before falling over and spilling used tissues on the floor. Sebastian, one of my new roommates, had some kind of allergy and he’d stuffed nearly every wastebasket full of the snot-soaked rags.
Let him clean it up.
I should’ve seen who was in that room and backed the fuck off, told them I was sick or something. That would have been the smart thing to do, and I’d considered it, but the way she’d begged for my cock. Well, all the smarts went clean out of my head.
Had I really fucked Cassie? The memory of her creamy thighs and her desperate mewling noises sent the blood rushing straight to my cock.
Shit, shit, shit. Was she still there in the throes of her heat, in physical pain, without someone pounding into her? I gripped the counter hard enough to make the tendons in my arms stand out. If she was still there, I could go back. I could have her again—pound into her relentlessly until we were both roaring with pleasure. Maybe this time I would undo one of those fucking straps and hitch her leg up on my shoulder so I could go deeper. It was a mercy to go there and plunge myself into her wet heat.
A mercy. Yeah, right, as if I could pretend this wasn’t my selfish desire to touch the untouchable girl, and be important to her, even if it was only physical. I could do it, too. I could go again. I was rock hard already, my cock straining against the grey joggers I’d thrown on after exiting her breeding room.
