Risk and Reward

In the past, Alessandra may have been confused, she'd made some false starts, but she always felt an inner guide, a strong, magnetic force in her that allowed her to find her path. The first time a man had grabbed her hair and pulled as he fucked her, it felt like a hidden map had lit up inside her brain, a flash of it that showed her a long voyage of discovery, a deep dive into her sexuality, and that she was only at the beginning. She left vanilla behind without a whisper of doubt. She found, at first, difficulty in discerning which men had that dominant, aggressive, boundary-pushing streak that she craved--she was a subtle creature, though, and began to hear the subtext when a man spoke, to sift through their words and separate the gold of assured, knowledgeable competence from the dross of bluster, arrogance, and unreliable volatility.

She reconciled the tension in her between her generous submissiveness, eager to not just please but fulfill, and her clear knowledge that she had vast, unquenchable fountains of need herself. By her third year of college, she knew monogamy was not an option for her, that she not only could connect simultaneously sexually with more than one partner without in any way diminishing the connection with either, and she needed this part of herself to be seen, even celebrated; no matter how deliciously dominant the man, if he couldn't accept that part of herself, she regretfully ended things.

She had incredible, intense sessions, slammed up against a wall and taken so hard it knocked her breath away. She learned how hearing dirty words pour into her ear was delirium-inducing poison, making her feel the most wonderful helpless, bewitched by the words. Old books of magic held that speaking a person's true name was powerful, and she discovered she had many names close to true: Slut, fucktoy, perfect little bitch. Not just the words on her own, but the reverberations in mens' voices as they said them with the right intonation, seeing her, showing her their immediate, undeniable need for her.

Her first female lover she met as a junior in college, while talking about this side of her, confessing to a friend. Alessandra always noticed her friend's Katie's predilection for chokers and clothing that incorporated D-rings, but it was when she spent the night on Katie's couch that she noticed the small library of D/s erotica displayed unashamedly on the bottom shelf of her bookcase. Alessandra had slipped out a slim volume and read it, with her other hand slipping down between her legs, an extra dimension of arousal knowing that Katie was like her. The next morning, over excellent coffee, she told her the book she'd read, and that she liked it, and Katie's startled response had quickly slid into curiosity, met mutually by Alessandra. First, they satisfied the curiosity with words, asking about experiences, about limits, but it wasn't long until it was searing looks followed by hands landing where the eyes had been.

Her mind first captured the firm, lithe feeling of Katie under her hands, the surprisingly different quality of feeling the weight of Katie's breasts in her hands. All her senses seemed so alive and present, she was aware of every iota of her skin that was in contact with Katie's softness. When Katie's aggressive energy rose and she plucked Alessandra's nipples between her fingers, grinning at the reaction, Alessandra felt as submissively captured as she ever had with a man. Katie rode that wave of pleasure she'd started, pushing Alessandra down on the couch and working her hand inside Alessandra's jeans, the pressure of the waistband helping to make the contact even more electric. Alessandra came for her like that, one hand grabbing Katie's forearm, the other flung out over her head in submission, in victory

In the rebound from the orgasm, Alessandra felt a spike of competitive urge that lit more dominance in her than she had felt before. She pulled Katie's hand to her mouth, tasting herself on it, eyes fixed on Katie's. Katie was only wearing loose pajama bottoms, and Alessandra wanted them off, wanted to see what she was doing. Years later, she'd always be able to remember that first moment of Katie's thighs parting for her, the first time she put her mouth down on another girl's pussy. Enthusiasm and empathy combined to allow her to give Katie a joyful experience, and Alessandra turned going down on her into a dominant move, putting her hands under Katie's ass and pulling her half-up off the couch, tongue-fucking her deep while making eye contact. She was proud and smiling when Katie's thighs began to tremble as she held them apart, and then she saw her friend riven and exposed by orgasm, her face transformed.

That encounter unlocked something else in her, or gave her a new perspective; not just that women should be happily included in exploration, but that she might have even more kinks unknown to her, ready to swing down like meteors and rearrange the orrery of her sexuality. She discovered some on her own, through reading erotica, watching porn, or simply remembering a fuck she'd had and turning the gain up, imaginging the intensity increases, or the intersection of some other dynamic. She had a years-long relationship with a woman that opened up threesomes to her, a whole host of new dynamics at play there. The other woman left for grad school, and Katie kept fucking the two men, themselves grad students a little older then her.

Unexpectedly, she made a potent connection with a dominant older man. It surprised her how intense it was, given how much she was already receiving, but that was just more information about her polyamorous nature revealed to her. He was the first to wrap a hand around her throat confidently and pin her like that while taking her, the first to whisper to her in public what he'd do to her at home. He was more than fifteen years older than her, and that contrast was more exciting, more present than she had thought.

They had been safe, he always used a condom; his maturity in that was meaningful to her. But one night, out of condoms, they found themselves in a spiral of arousal that seemed to have no end. Pulling away from each other just increased the need, when she put her mouth on him to try to release the gigantic urge, when he said "I absolutely need to be inside you," she agreed, it was absolutely what she needed, what had to happen. What she wasn't prepared for was the moment of clarity as his naked cock pushed into her fertile young body: She wasn't aroused despite the risk, but by the risk, by the concept and total reality of his big cock pumping into her. She was face down, her ass up, and she was making guttural, urgent noises, pushing her hips back to slap her ass down into him, straddling him but facing away from him. She wanted every stroke to be heaven for him. His low voice was telling her how much he needed this, how good she looked under him, how absolutely right it felt to fuck her raw like this; she squirmed her face back to look him in the eye and nodded, too cock-drunk to speak, sending a clear signal to his primal brain. She felt his cock swell in her and her heart sang as the first jet of cum pumped into her, but his mindful self gained control and with a roar he pulled out of her, one more jet splashing onto her pussy lips, the rest onto her back. So much of it; if he had stayed inside her, her mind said to her, clear in the chaos of the arousal she felt, he'd have surely, surely impregnated me, and I still might be.

He held her a long time after, and then they spoke. He told her that first moment had been one of the hottest things he'd ever experienced, and she nuzzled her face into his chest in happiness. The time before the pregnancy test felt oddly calm to her: it was binary, one way or the other. When she saw the negative result, and confirmed it the next day, she didn't feel disappointment, but another part of her path lighting up in her brain: She needed that. Not just the moment of his cum inside her, but the potency of it there, what it would actually bring. She truly wanted to be bred, to not just play with it. But to do that, first she'd have to play, to find the landscape she wanted to inhabit.

She had an IUD fitted, and then she introduced breeding talk into her play with the two other men, as well. They both responded well to it, if a little shocked. Something about how they cautiously played into it was a little endearing. But with her older lover, Jack, it was a gyre of inspired adventure; hearing from him how beautifully fertile she looked could make her stumble, especially if he whispered it in public. The other two young men told her they wanted to breed her, after she'd asked them; Jack added that he wanted to see her pregnant, to fuck her that way too. She leant into this side of herself, fell in, illuminated it and inhabited it. For months and months, the play remained as exciting as the first time, each time she heard "I'm coming in your unprotected pussy" or "Take it all, you fertile little slut" it was an equal lightning stroke to her libido.

One day, the decision simply was clear in her mind. She wanted all the states of this: she wanted to be bred. She wanted to feel the pregnancy in her, in her body, with her own hands on herself. She wanted to be fucked while pregnant. Every part of the story was what she wanted.

It was Jack telling her that he had accepted a contract to work in Mongolia for six months, that it would start in a couple months, and that while he was working there he'd barely have any internet access and no privacy when he had it, working for the Mongolian government, that spurred her to fully put the plan into action. She had already been timing her ovulation, finding that knowing that added hugely to her arousal during the times when she fucked while ovulating. She made the appointment, and had her IUD removed. She felt immediately different.

She didn't tell them. This was her biggest gamble with the universe, her challenge to it and herself. She felt absolutely certain. She even went so far as to get each of them to take what she said was an STD test, a routine safety precaution she took every once in a while, but was actually just to capture their DNA for future testing. What she did tell them, individually, was that she wanted them to not hold back one bit in the fantasy, to act as though they were fighting for her submission, that they knew she fucked other men but tonight she wanted them to feel that they wanted to compete with the others to impregnate her. That she'd fuck each of them over three nights of her ovulation, when she was at her absolute limit of readiness. Liam and Jordan were shocked, but game. They texted back simple acceptance, and were perhaps a little nervous at the start. But each of them rallied well.

It was definitely the best fuck that Liam, one of her younger men, had given her. That part of herself that she'd unleashed was inspiring him, and he had her legs pinned far back as he rose over her like a storm, face showing lust so fierce it was close to anger. She curled her toes in pleasure as he relentlessly fucked her, his own yes looking down between them to watch him fill her pussy, her tight lips urging him back in every time he pulled out.

Jordan, too, gave more to her than he had before, pushing her over her kitchen counter and fucking her full of his cum in one explosive scene, the intensity and immediacy welcome, and then adding to it by having her lie on her back, keeping his cum inside her, while he slid his soaked cock into her mouth. She happily suckled on him until he rose again, and he fucked a second load of cum inside her. Between the two of them, she felt the universe in balance: one had reached deeper, the other had reached twice.

With Jack, after she told him, after she'd sent the text, his response was absolute enthusiasm. Rather than waiting for that night to begin to arouse her, he sent her texts throughout the day, told her what to wear for him--an amazing piece of lingerie that she'd discovered that incorporated a collar, garter-belt, and a barely-there concealment of her breasts, black straps contrasting with her fair skin. He told her to be ready to completely submit to him, and had her send him pictures of her that she snuck away from work to take. By the time she opened her door to him in nothing but the lingerie that he'd chosen, she was already buzzing, standing up on tiptoes to kiss him, waiting with her hands folded in front of herself while he took off his shoes and his eyes devoured her. She demurely led him by the hand to the bedroom.

As soon as they were inside it, his hands went around to her ass, grabbing, squeezing it admiringly, pulling her up even farther as he kissed her, until her mouth dropped away and she pressed her face into his chest. "God, you feel so fucking fertile," he said, and she heard his deep voice through his body as well as her ears, and it travelled down to her womb and spoke to it, woke it. She felt so potent in this moment of ovulation, like it should be visible inside her, light pouring out.

His hands moved from her ass to her breasts, on display in the black straps on fabric, and gripped them commandingly, pressing palms into her already-hard nipples. His hands curled under her breasts, over them, one hand up to her throat, squeezing at the same time as he squeezed her breast, making an electric connection between them. "Undress me," he said, and her hands went to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it out, while he kept fingers locked around her throat, feeling her pulse and her breaths. His other hand moving from one breast to the other, appreciative, proprietorial. She unbuckled his belt, slipped his pants open, and tucked her thumbs into the fabric to push them down. His freed cock brushed her thighs, searing against her skin, and then was held between their bodies as he released her breast and grabbed her ass again, pulling her close against him.

He spent a long time like that, sometimes his mouth on her lips, hand squeezing her throat hard enough to send that little shiver of panic before the force retreated, hand on her ass slipping father under her until his fingertips were brushing her pussylips. She shuddered against him, and he stroked her open with a few insistent movements of his fingers and then pushed into her, two fingers, his arm against her back holding her firmly against him. Pulses of radiant pleasure as his thick fingers worked deep in her and began to slide in and out of her gripping pussy.

"You're completely ready to be bred. Look at you. You're so obviously ready to take every drop of my cum and make a baby from it." She went nearly limp on his hands, held aloft by the grip on her throat and the fingers tunneled into her pussy. She heard the wet sound of what he was doing to her, and felt wonderfully slutty in what she was doing, where this was heading.

Finally, his fingers slid out, leaving a wet train across her ass. He walked her back until her thighs touched the bed, and pushed her down on it, hand on her throat releasing. She gasped a deep lungful, and opened her legs wide. He crawled onto the bed, his bulk over her, blunt head of his cock probing her pussylips and she reached down and aimed it, centered it; he said "Good little fucktoy," in response to that, and he settled his weight down on her enough to send half of his cock filling her. She put her hands on the small of his back, on his ass, urged more, and he immediately sent the rest of his thick cock ramming into her and the jolting pain/pleasure of that launched her into another level of arousal.

"This little fucking pussy is mine," he growled, hand back around her throat, looking into her eyes searching and finding her submission. His pelvis pushed against her clit as she turned her hips farther up to get him deeper in, and more of his weight was on her, trapping her, fixing her in place. His other hand was a stanchion on the bed, supporting him as he began to fuck her in giant, royal strokes, each one a shuddering assault on her little body, each one she took and wanted more.

Despite the vastness of the pleasure she was sending coursing through him, the amazing feeling of her tightness surrounding him, he prolonged the moment, never stopping but sometimes holding himself deep, deep in her while he moved his hips, making her feel the pressure inside her so intently. When his fucking accelerated, she thought the orgasm was approaching and bucked her hips up into him to receive it, but after one final push into her, he pulled out, and flipped her over. Not pulling her up to all fours, but just spreading her legs with her flat, sinking into her again with a vast, explosive groan.

Now she knew he was charging forwards, unstoppable, and his weight lay on her more than ever before, his breath against her ear as he pumped himself deep into her, one hand still controlling her throat, the other down on her hips, holding her in an iron grip. She couldn't even push back; she didn't need to. He was plundering her cunt, bringing her so much, and when she heard him say "I'm going to fucking cum. I'm going to fill your young pussy with my cum and breed you like you need. This is what you're for." She felt her own orgasm take a bow and leap from the high dive, twirl through her, and send her under the boundary of consciousness, brain short-circuited by the depth of the pleasure washing through her and the concept of what was happening. But enough of her consciousness remained to focus so deeply on the feeling of his cock in her, reaching the depths of her, milked now by her pussy as his voice became ragged, incoherent. She felt that thick cock shudder inside her and his wild yell as he began to fill her pussy with his cum. He collapsed on top of her, cock buried hilt-deep, balls-deep, pumping what seemed an endless load of his hot white cum deep into her fertile, ovulating pussy.

After it was over, he lay on her for a long time, until he finally pushed himself up, sticky cock sliding from her pussy. He held her, kissed her, and told her that he was absolutely sure that fucking would breed her. There was no doubt in his mind.

Later that week, she got a heart-wrenching text from him: his schedule had been moved up, he would be leaving in a few days. And had a lot to do to prepare. That he would be gone for months, even half a year. It was a pang, but she told him that she'd know, she'd been eyes open, but that he was coming back. He agreed, and said, "No matter what protection you were on, I think I bred you." It took all her composure not to tell him the truth, but she had decided, she wanted to wait.

The first test she took, on the first day it might be plausibly able to tell, was absolutely clear: She was pregnant. She kept fucking Liam and Jordan for a month, until she felt like it would be obvious. She told them she was traveling for a training program. At first, their texts were heated, longing, but they started to tail off as the months wore on.

While they were separated, he would occasionally send her a text, telling her about seeing a woman using an eagle to hunt, or about the success they were having in training rural health providers. She told him that she was well, but gave no hint that she had, in fact, conceived. After six months, Liam and Jordan were only occasionally in communication. When she had the genetic testing done on the paternity test, the results were clear. And she knew she didn't have to say any more than she did, in her text to Jack. "I'm pregnant". His response came "I will be there as soon as I can. Two weeks. No more."

It was only one week before he texted her that he'd landed, that he would be there so soon. Heart-hammering excitement as she dressed for him, as she prepared. He opened the door and came into the apartment so quickly it was like he was invading. His gaze swept through space until it hit her, and he stood taller instantly when their eyes connected. "Alessandra," he said. He paused, again, for the small domestic ceremony of taking his shoes off, then walked towards her, hands out, their first contact after all this time his strong fingers on her swollen, pregnant belly. "Yours," she said, and saw the reality of it enter his eyes, a rock weight of realization plummeting into a deep pool of satisfaction and lust. A second rock dropped: "You're wearing the same thing we wore that night--that was the night I bred you," She nodded, happily, and his response was a mirror of that night seven months ago. His hands went down around to her ass, pulling her up against him, but this time, her big belly was pressed against his thighs and cock, which she could feel completely hard inside his thin silk pants. "You look so fucking beautiful," he said, that voice she'd missed so much.