Please Breed Me

When I deepthroat you, it's like we're making music together- the sloppy saliva filled gasps, your deep moans, the call and response of "do you like daddy's cock, you naughty little slut?"

"Yes, please use me, daddy!"

I want to tell you more of my devotion, write you scriptures and verses of gospel, but all I can manage is a heady moan and to squeeze my cunt tighter.

"Good cumslut."

You roll my nipple tightly and constrict your fingers around my windpipe again, your breath teasing my lips as you chuckle. I reach my hand up and touch the bicep of the arm that's choking me. It's tense, so thick and round and hard under my fingers, it's rushing with power and just feeling the bulk of your body pressing into me feels like a utopia. The rush of hormones as you grind pain and pleasure against my straining thighs is just admission to my promised land.

I feel like I'm in church. Your lips form the hot, searing words of the preacher, threatening delightful terrors, hellfire like the desperation in my heart and cunt, each moan from your throat stirring sin deeper and deeper into my blood.

Your eyes are judgement, appraising the worth of my work in keeping your cum held in my cunt today. Am I your good girl tonight? Or am I your bad girl? And which one do I want to be- do I crave the reward of your celestial cum, or the stinging lash of punishment.

You, the whole of you, you are my god. Your cum, your spit, the promises of paradise you weave in the twist of your fingers and the thrust of your cock. Each night with you is like being reinvented- springs of new growth blossoming in me with your attention.

And here you are, reincarnating me. You push your cock into me, earlier loads spilling and squelching out of me in a sloppy rush. You laugh and some part of my brain registers the joy of feeling sheets of your thickened sperm being pulled along my thighs.

You grunt and push all the way in. I feel the last few inches of my cunt so distinctly. My cunt is telling me to worship you, to become a devotee of your cock. The last word I think for a while is "Yes" yes, screamed over and over in my head as you roughly jerk your hips back, then forward, establishing a rhythm I would grow utterly addicted to.

Your primal rut forces my humanity to the edges of my awareness. The heat of your tense, electric muscles buzzes through your skin and fills me. I'm moving with you, a part of you, an extension of your cock.

It's all I can do not to break. I shut my eyes and let out a moan, hoping to ground myself back into someone capable of sentient expression.

You hump me harder. Deeper. You hold yourself rammed into me, your pubic bone compressing my clit against me. My eyes are still squeezed shut, terrified to show you how close I am to losing control.

My eyes crack open. You're staring at me, possessively, almost angrily. You breathe out in a huff and the tensing of your neck muscles almost makes me lose myself. You are glorious above me, pinning me as much with your sheer will to breed me as with your heavy hips.

I couldn't escape if I tried. That pang of fear blossoms into a powerful wave of need. It doesn't matter if I don't want to be pregnant anymore. You want me for that, so I will give my womb to you.

It's simple.

You kind of snarl at me, your eyes locked on mine. My lips part as you flip your hips back and forth, grinding my clit up against your pubic mound and your dickhead up against my cervix.

I feel your finger touch my lips, lightly, gently, then it hooks over my lower front teeth and pulls down. My jaw wrenches open, and you snort and you spit a big glob of saliva into my open mouth.

It hits my tongue, and that last shred of my humanity I was so pathetically clinging onto is extinguished from my body. I let out a loud groan, and let my eyes roll back into my head. You laugh and jam the finger resting on my teeth down over my tongue and into my throat. I gag and convulse, your spit catching and closing my windpipe.

I'm still gagging underneath you when you start thrusting again. The burning in my throat makes me writhe, and the only thing I can think about is sensation of your dick in my mouth. I fixate on that, nothing can disrupt my focus on being a good girl for you- on swallowing your cock (or, in this case, your thick fingers) and milking your cum out with my throat.

I'm dumb on your cock.

I want to serve you, my master, my god. Whether it's my stomach or my womb, I'm just rapturous with gratitude that you're inside me.

Your animalistic pace picks up, and I'm lost and saved all in the same moment. The slapping of your crotch against my thighs beats out a holy hymn. I'm fulfilling the ultimate role of a woman- the duty celebrated in story and song. Even in myth and legend, she serves her god as a womb to grow his creation.

Your hand slowly closes around my throat and I want you in absolute control of me. If choking me makes me tighter around your cock, I want you to wrap your fingers around and squeeze until you're done cumming.

As if you read my mind, your grip tightens. You start to shout and roar next to my ear and your free hand heavily slaps my cheek. My pussy is clenched on your dick in one long tight spasm. You call me your slut, your pathetic whore, your breeding stock, you laugh and slap me again, and I hold that orgasm through it all. Every name you give me replaces the name I've used all my life. Each denigrated title you bless me with becomes an ingrained trigger for my devotion to you.

You push down on my neck just a little bit more, and the change in pressure releases my orgasm in full. My pussy walls start to flex and grip along the length of your cock, coaxing it up to my pulsing, sucking cervix.

You're squeezing my throat tighter and tighter, and your dirty talk turns nonverbal as you lodge the head of your dick into the suction of my cervix. I feel your balls tense, a powerful jolt as you start your life-giving orgasm. Your ballsack pulses hard, and it feels like slow motion as the first powerful jet shoots up through your cock and into me.

I lose time. I trust that you took me through the ecstasy of hell and the rapture of heaven with each shot of cum, pushed me out of my body and mind with your dick. It was primal, beyond morality. I still carry flashes of you humping your seed into me again and again that night, trying to drive the stiffness of your cock away with my soft, supple insides.

Those flashes are all I can stand to remember of our transcendence. It feels dangerous to think about, like I'll slip away from myself.

It feels dangerous, but I'm obsessed.

———————

When I come back to my senses, my hand is resting over my uterus. I press down gently, and breathe in. I feel connected, whole with your seed inside me.

I turn over to your sleeping form and admire you, adore you. I study the lines of your face and the powerful rise of your chest as you breathe. I gleefully imagine which of your features will carry over to our first child. How our second child will be different. How our third, fourth and fifth children will get along. How obedient I'll be to you by child six, and how my heavy my breasts will hang for you on child number seven.

I watch you sleep, and I wait for you to wake. I watch you sleep, and feel your cum run down my thighs.

I pray that you'll take me, fuck the free will from my cunt and turn me into your stupid baby maker. I pray to you, as your sperm mounts and merges in my egg.

I serve you.

I worship you.

My god.