Friday, 25 August 2023

Contemporary UK Story: The Breeding

'Breeding' as a fetish was not something I had been into but I was prompted to produce this story by a woman I got into correspondence online and it led to this story and its sequel.


The Breeding
By Tang

The slave knelt, trying to remain still and patient.  Her head was bowed demurely.  Her mind was alive with excitement as she knew the moment she had been working towards for so long should soon arrive.  Then he, the one who was her master, entered the room.  The sound of his footsteps and the scent of his body, hot beneath the leather he wore, both reassured the slave but further excited her too.  Her master stood in front of her, but in her servile position looking over the rich, luscious breasts, she could see no more than his boots and the bottoms of his tight trousers.

“Undress.”  The master said simply.

The slave had no ability not to obey.  She shrugged off the long black crochet top which when standing stretched to her calves.  In a slow, measured way she raised her hands from her lap; they were clad in fingerless gloves, with their immaculate bright red nails emerging.  She began to unclip the exquisite leather corset she wore.  It was black but patterned with entwined flowers.  It restrained her but that thrilled her as she felt it represented the delicious constraints her master had brought to her life.  It also presented her breasts in such an enthralling way, their cream flesh full above the leather, and now as she released them they hung free, the rosy nipples already excited.  The slave yearned to catch them between her fingers and play with them, let alone have her master’s lips close around them, but she knew that she had to carry out his instructions and hope for such reward for good obedience, later.

Now the corset was free of her body and moved from kneeling to sitting and reached to unzip the left knee-high boot.  It was patent black, with a wedge heel.  The slave, like her master, liked the shine and the way these made her move.  The sauntering of her full hips, she knew, was something her master enjoyed.  In moments the boot and then its companion were off.  Soon the black fence-net stockings were also gone.  Now, the slave stood, though keeping her eyes lowered.  The long leather skirt that hugged her hips and showed the sweeping lines of her thighs, but now it had to be removed.  The slave knew, though, that these gifts of her master would what she would be putting on, once he had given her an even greater gift, the one she had dreamt of for so long.  She unbuttoned the long leather skirt at the front and unzipped it at the rear, letting it fall to the floor.

Her silk thong remained and it was already sodden with how moist how pussy was from her anticipation.  She slid it down and stepped one leg then the other out.  Finally she stripped off her gloves and set them down carefully on the piles of clothes.  All that she wore now was her collar, still kept on her by the tiny silver lock that her master had secured it with.  The slave thought of the times when she was led by the leash attached to the collar’s ring, whether naked or dressed.

Ready, the slave now looked up boldly into the eyes of her master.  His gaze was as firm as always, but with deep within, were those elements that told her that he valued her beyond measure precisely for what she was.  He did not give an expression of disapproval and the slave was pleased that she had read the situation so well.

“What do you need?”

It was rare for her master to ask directly.  It usually provided greater pleasure for him to read this for himself and then delight in her body revealing that he had been right.  She guessed that, in fact, that would be the case this time too.  However, the uniqueness of this evening’s encounter, she recognised, meant it had these ritual elements.  Perhaps, too, even though she was entirely his slave, her master wanted to be sure that she truly wanted what he was going to do to her.

“Master, I beg you to breed me.  Fill me with your seed.  Make me full and rounded with what you create.  Service me; cover me; use me as your breeding mare.”

“Good.  To the harness.”  Master gestured.

The slave felt joy run through her as she knew her master had accepted her plea and she was to receive what she had dreamt of.  They had used the swinging harness before, but now it was to turn her into a broodmare, to become the dam to Master’s offspring.  She walked to the upright ‘x’ of the harness and walked into it, spreading her arms and legs to match its shape.  The shape of this one was particular with a broader section level with her chest into which her large spheres of breasts fitted.  She pushed them into place.  The she felt master behind her, closing the leather straps around first her ankles, then her wrists and finally the belt running above her broad, soon to be child-bearing hips, so locking her to the form.  Then her master began to operate it, tilting her to the horizontal.  Her brunette tresses tumbled around her face as she was moved into position.  Her breasts hung pendulously and that seemed appropriate for the results of the action that was about to be done to her.

The slave heard the sound of her master unzipping and moments later felt him between her strong thighs, his leather running across her smooth skin.  He ran his gloved hand down her slick pussy which was now aching to be filled with his unsheathed cock.  He reached over her to grasp the ample fruit of her breasts and she shuddered in pleasure at his touch.  Then his hard cock slid deep inside her, with no hesitation, no uncertainty.  The slave grunted her satisfaction knowing the breeding of her was beginning.  Her mind spiralled through all the thoughts she had had leading up to this moment.  It continued running into the future, seeing her belly rounded and heavy, its skin so taut and shiny; her breasts filled with milk, all gifts of her master.

With each thrust, the slave found she could not help but match her grunts with those of her master.  She battled to cope with the sensations, her arousal and her dreams of what was to come.  Her body as rich as cream, as womanly as the fertility goddesses of old quivered as if stretched tight.  She wanted it to cease, feeling unable to cope with all that was crashing into her, but she needed it to continue, to rise to the climax and deliver her what she utterly yearned for.



Then it came.  He came.  His hot jism fired into her.  She could tell by the jerks of his body but also something more: her body recognising it had received just what it needed.  Orgasm seemed to explode from where his juices flowed, rippling out in ever heavier thrusts from her core.  She shuddered against her binds and let rip with a howl, a long moan of ecstasy not simply from the physical impact, but the recognition that she had achieved her aim: from the master who filled her world she had been bred.  She had now been transformed and the new phase of her life was just beginning.

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