Mike Kokadjo - Dominated in Delivery

by Mike Kokadjo
Published by Mike Kokadjo at Lot’s Cave

Dominated In Delivery, © 2022, Mike Kokadjo
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All Characters In This Book Are Age 18 Or Older
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are
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A Lot’s Cave Novel

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CONTENTS
Dominated In Delivery
~~~~~~~~~~~
Other Novels
Family Exotica
Incest Erotica
Author’s Note
by Mike Kokadjo
They really do exist, mail order brides. The process is far more complicated than
you might think, and the expenses are not nearly what I thought they would be. I
got my bride, Anneli, for much less than I expected.
She was far more than I expected, and — in her way — far less. Let me
explain: she was more affectionate, pretty, and obedient than I had a right to
expect. And far less of her presented itself to me at the airport than I expected. She
was, in three words, petite and submissive. A grown, adult woman, but a little
woman, maybe five feet, maybe five-one. Small frame, athletic build, wide hips.
She also was not pregnant, which was great, because my hope, my desire, my
thirst, was to knock her up right quick and watch her Scandinavian belly grow over
the next nine months. I love a pregnant woman. I love fucking her, and watching
my dick slide in and out of that pussy mound just beneath her baby mound.
I picked Anneli up at the coastal airport and decided to give her an overnight
respite from her travels. A flight from Norway is many hours long and tiring. I
more or less explained to her we would be staying at the airport hotel before we
flew home to the center of the country, to her new home and my old farm, the next
day.
Of course, I intended to fuck her long and hard at the airport hotel.
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I spoke no Norwegian, and she spoke only basic English. Language didn’t
matter; capacity mattered. Her capacity to take my cock in her mouth, between her
tits, in her pussy. That mattered. To take it, and take it again, and take it a third and
fourth time that night; that’s what mattered.
I knew I would have to teach her a few important English words immediately:
dick, yes, balls, fuck, submit, pussy, obey. Simple, direct words. Eventually I
hoped she would get phrases like, “Yes, sir,” and “As you order, sir.” But that
would come in its time.
She knew we would — eventually — be married, so she more or less went
along with the idea of bedding down at the airport hotel.
In our exchanges long before this big day, we settled on the natural state of
affairs: I would pay for her to come to me, I would offer her a new life. She would
give up a few things: family connections, her old way of life in Norway.
More give and take: I would be in charge of the marriage, and she would
acquiesce. I would order, and she would obey. I would dominate, and she would
submit.
She would forgo holidays, and gifts, and birthday celebrations. I would
control her womb, her body, her days and nights. She would forgo clothes in my
presence. I would not allow any other man to fuck her pussy once she was
pregnant by me.
Oh, and one more thing: I would force her to become pregnant beneath my
dick. She would open herself to me whenever I wished, and grow her belly to
please my dick. She would spend substantial parts of her life pleasing my dick.
It was how I wanted it.
With the help of some of my female relatives and my old penis pump, I had
been careful to drain my balls every evening for five full weeks before flying to the
coast to meet her. Pump for a half hour while a female cousin slowly removed her
clothes. Let her next remove the dick pump and try to fit my fat, thick, long cock in
her mouth.
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Lick and rub and suck me until I spewed cum on her, working to prolong my
cums from a few minutes free of the confines of the dick pump to something close
to half an hour. I did not want to disappoint Anneli the first time.
I didn’t want to finish too quickly with her, or to flood her with cum; she was
not to worry about her husband’s bedroom abilities. I wanted a quality
performance on our first night together. That is why I practiced on my female
cousins.
And practiced.
I knew, even so, I’d have plenty of cum for Anneli that night in the airport
hotel room. Plenty.
We knew each other’s bodies. We had a lot of video sex leading up to her
joining me as my new bride. I’d seen her entire body, up close and in various states
of excitement. I’d ordered her to show me everything, so I knew what I was
getting. I’m glad I did, because when she showed me her pussy up close for the
first time, I realized I had to order her to rid herself of most of that blonde hair. I
wanted to see pussy lips, not fur.
I stumbled through some short sentences and drew some pictures of what I
wanted her to do, and later that day (her middle of the night) she called me back to
show me her handiwork. Trimmed, shaved, bare. I saw pussy lips, the meaty outer
ones and the flower-petal inner ones. A shiny, tiny clit.
I saw that she had obeyed me. I wanted her exactly as I wanted her, and that
was only right.
I had serious money tied up in this arrangement, didn’t I?
Anneli has a fine body, fit and lithe. When I first saw her online, she had very
attractive, though small, tits. I fixed them by sending enough money for her to get
a pair of nice, big, fake tits. Scandinavian plastic surgeons are some of the world’s
best. I wanted her to have the best fake tits. When I say big, I mean really big; a bit
too big for her frame, if you want to know the truth.
I did that on purpose.
3
I wanted her to look a bit topheavy, a bit cartoonish. Easier to humiliate that
way, of course. Her discomfort would be constant, and a constant reminder that she
really did not control her body.
I did.
I controlled her body.
I was paying handsomely for it, right?
I mailed her a brand new, never-used pussy pump. I asked some of my male
relatives for input; what did they use on their wives, which pussy pump did the
best job latching onto the pussies of their pregnant women?
I bought myself a new, larger penis pump. You may say I was spending
extravagantly. I was not. I had saved for more than a decade to buy myself a
perfect bride, a woman I could shape and mold and force to fit my desires.
Anneli and I watched each other pump up, and then we watched each other
take the pumps off and caress ourselves to completion. She became accustomed to
seeing me in the videos, lying back with my dick inside the pump’s tube, straight
up from my body, my dick thick and meaty and red. I could unfasten the hose and
walk around, the thing stiff and hard and rising up and swaying like a flag pole.
I could force the clear tube way down and my dick would snap it back, up and
stiff. Anneli soon took for granted that I would video with her with my dick
pumped and fat. She barely noticed the pump after a few sessions, thinking of it as
a common piece of my daily clothing, more or less.
I also paid for her to get some lip injections. Thick, cock-hungry lips. In the
days following the injections, she had to slightly relearn how to use her lips to
speak. No matter. I was not mail-ordering her for her conversational skills. I drew
more pictures and she demonstrated on bananas and dildos how well she could
suck.
She is blonde, with that pale skin that tans flawlessly under the right
conditions. A bubble butt ass, the result of cross country skiing and all sorts of
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other outdoorsy exercise. Muscled thighs and strong calves, no fat. A firm, flat
abdomen.
Anneli has a lovely, almond face with high cheekbones. Blue eyes, but not the
Nordic blue you would expect. A more mysterious, foreboding blue. When she
stares at me — which she does often — she seems to be searching my soul for a
reward, her reward. She seems to be begging me, always, to protect her.
Which I do. I protect her, and wrap my arms around her, and fuck her. Our
video fuck sessions seldom lasted longer than two hours, with her cumming about
seven times and me cumming — well, I think my record was three times.
She smiled to watch my dick emerge from the dick pump, swollen and deep
red. She smiled to watch me rub myself. She smiled to watch me spurt cum. That’s
a good sign, right? She seemed to like to satisfy me, to watch me cum, to want my
dick.
She’d seen as much of my body as I felt comfortable showing her. She
seemed okay with everything she saw and knew about me. She smiled every time
she saw my dick, for example. She seemed to like to watch me wave the hard
plastic tube of the penis pump, my dick inside and swollen, at her on the
computer’s little camera. Some of my female cousins find it a little unnerving, the
penis pump; a little pervy, they say. But I like it. Hey, if you haven’t pumped up
your own dick, don’t knock it.
So Anneli was smiles and nods and happiness with everything so far, with me
here and Anneli in Norway. Her openness and support were good signs of a solid
relationship, right?
I’d seen her excite herself to orgasm, her fingers flying over her clit and
running in and out of her pussy. She’d seen me spurt cum. I’d forced her to get
fake tits and thick lips, and to trim her pussy hair. Still she joined me; she flew
over and became my mail order bride.
Submissive women are not universally submissive. You can’t go into a
BDSM club and simply snap your fingers at a submissive woman and expect her to
obey. And here I speak from firsthand and humbling experience.
5
Anneli is submissive to me, but she may find you unworthy of controlling her.
She may not be willing to submit to your orders. She does seem to have submitted
readily enough to the other men of my family, but still — you get my point.
Anneli submits to me. She submitted to me that day in the airport, when I
leaned in and hugged and kissed her.
I made a scene, I will say it.
I gave her a long, passionate kiss on her mouth, and she threw her arms
around my neck and kissed me back. She submitted to me when I motioned for her
to follow me, not to walk next to me, as I waited as she gathered her two suitcases
and we went to the airport hotel shuttle.
She stood slightly behind and beside me as I checked us in at the hotel. When
we were in the elevator she submitted to me as I put a collar and leash on her. And
then she obeyed as I tugged her along behind me, the thin chain leash falling
gracefully in a long arc from her neck to my hand. She submitted again when I
motioned for her to wait for me to wheel her bags into the room and go in first.
And then she obeyed me to remove all her clothes and present herself to me, still
wearing the collar and leash.
I had brought along a little pad and drawing pencils. I drew pictures showing
her that, whenever we were alone, she was to take off her clothes. I would remain
clothed, unzipped and with my dick out. I would probably have my dick inside its
lovely little plastic chamber, growing large and long and fat to fuck her with. And
she would probably be collared and leashed.
She was to do anything I asked. I would sometimes bring her to orgasm. (That
last one was challenging to draw, let me tell you.)
I fucked her throughout the night. I alternated between having her watch me
pump and making her remove the pump to suck my dick, to slide it into her pussy,
to run it between her huge tits.
She was tired, no doubt. Her jet lag was not my problem. Even with my plan
to drain my balls the two weeks before meeting her, I still managed five cums
overnight with her. Almost — almost — all of my cum ended deep in her pussy,
6
all the better to make her huge and round as quickly as possible. I admit I face-
fucked her and spewed all over her face one time. She showed the same patience
she’d shown in the months of video chats; sitting still, quiet and obedient, as I
rubbed my dick half an inch from her face and then spurted a fresh batch of cum all
over her eyelids, her nose, her high cheekbones.
And I couldn’t resist fucking those big, fake tits. They are firm but soft, a
very surreal feeling. My dick fresh from the pump is spongy, with a solid core. Her
tits were a different feeling, a deliciously different feeling.
Anneli knew to expect to see me moving about with the plastic tube engulfing
my eager dick. I smacked her tits and ass cheeks with the hard plastic a few times,
teaching her how to revere and respect my dick. And then, as she carefully opened
the relief valve and slid the pump’s chamber off my meat, she sucked and kissed
and fondled me. And then she slid my thick, engorged dick into her sopping pussy.
Over and over again, throughout the night.
Between bouts with the pump, sessions that made my dick ridiculously huge
and then let me split her pussy with it, I shot deep into her pussy, in waves of
crashing, surreal orgasms that nearly made me pass out.
You have to give me some credit; I was almost brave to do it, to fuck her five
times, considering how little her body attracted me. Mostly muscle, thin, not a lot
of curves except where I forced her into wearing the fake tits and fake lips. I stayed
hard pounding her pussy in no small part to the penis pump, but I swear I could
almost feel her hip bones as I rammed my dick into her. Who wants to feel that?
No, give me a small-framed woman with some flesh, some curves to her.
Give me a small-framed, pregnant woman in her seventh month and I will fuck her
day and night for the next three months.
But Anneli was mine, and I could enjoy her anytime I wanted. I spent the first
hour of our first morning in bed with her, eating her out. After all, she deserved a
little pampering. I also wanted to push her to a limit, to make her cum so much she
grew almost tired of it. To bring her to nearly painful orgasms. Which I did.
7
Then, still lounging in bed, I had her get up to carefully clean her pussy pump
and my penis pump in the bathroom. Then we fucked one last time and I slipped
our little toys into the laundry bag from the hotel room.
We checked out minutes before the required time. Leaving the hotel, she
seemed to be walking a bit stiffly from all the fucking. But I hardly noticed
because, again, I ordered her to walk a few paces behind me. She was tired enough
not to notice that I’d deliberately left her two suitcases behind in the room. She
would have no need for anything from them. She was to be my mail-order bride,
naked and at my command in our happy home.
I had only the two pumps — Anneli’s pussy pump and my penis pump — in
their thin plastic bag. I made her carry them through the carry-on inspection. A tiny
dash of humiliation to set the day’s tone; leave to her and her halting English the
awkward task of explaining them to security officers.
We flew to my old farm that day, and she seemed excited to watch the land —
her new land — unfold beneath us out the plane window on takeoff and landing.
My little sketch pad came in handy as I drew my order for her to go to the
rear restroom, ready herself, and let me in a few minutes later. Her basic English
did not provide all the words needed to describe an in-flight fuck.
Airplane restroom sex is not comfortable but it is exciting, and I intended to
milk our travel time together for all it was worth. I had her titfuck me in there, and
when I came, I shot on her tits and up into her neck. A simple wag of my finger
told her to leave it, to leave my cum on her as it drooped and dripped. So what if
other people saw cum clinging to her? I wanted to make sure she knew she was
mine. It didn’t bother me if other people knew it, too.
She sat slightly lower in her seat the rest of the way, tipping her head down
and sniffing from time to time. I knew what she was doing; did she still smell like
my cum?
Of course she did, she smelled like I had marked her. It radiated, like musky
perfume. She was just lucky, I suppose, we had all three seats on our side to
8
ourselves. She blushed from the stares and the knowing nods or head shakes from
more than a few passengers.
I had very little trouble getting Anneli to calm down after she realized her two
suitcases did not make their way to her new home. I never said the airline would
follow up; I did not want to lie to my almost-bride.
She got very excited again to arrive at my farm. In addition to the family
farmhouse — a rising, imposing Victorian structure old enough to be considered a
historic building — I had three other more modern, nicer homes on my substantial
acreage.
I let Anneli decide which house we would live in. It hardly mattered to me,
whether she picked the ranch, the bungalow, or the Craftsman-inspired style. I had
them all equipped for my interests, and I could move my few, simple possessions
from my bachelor home to our new abode in minutes, to whichever new home she
chose.
She selected the modern interpretation of a grand Craftsman style home. Oak;
oak trim everywhere. Oak pilasters and wainscotting. Genuine plaster walls, too,
none of that wretched drywall. A chock-a-block floor plan, with two stories, a
basement (all my homes have basements), and a niche-filled attic.
We stepped inside and she immediately took off her clothes, her hands
unconsciously running up under her enormous tits. She took the time to carefully
hang them on the coat pegs in the front hall. I of course kept my clothes on as I
spirited hers away. She would have to ask me for her clothes back.
They were, of course, the only clothes she had.
I called the airport hotel and asked them to send her two suitcases to the
unclaimed baggage outlet in Scottsboro. I said they could charge my credit card for
the service.
I took her on a tour of the home, pointing out what would be the babies’
room, our master bedroom, two guest bedrooms, the full dining room, my study,
the living room, and a large, sunlit kitchen.
9
I took Anneli on a tour of the basement, to show her some of the equipment I
built and installed. Breeding bench. Anal bench. X-frame whipping station.
Cabinets of dildos and butt plugs. Drawers brimming with lubes and hot salves and
oils. Whips, floggers, crops, and bullwhips arrayed on a wall. An entire cabinet
dedicated to pussy pumps and cock-pumps. She got the idea. She looked at one of
the pieces of furniture, ran her hand over the black leather, and then bowed her
head, nodding slowly.
She understood. She acquiesced. She understood what it meant to be my mail
order bride from Norway.
We had a private, morning wedding that Saturday, with some nine-score adult
members of my extended family and all of my farm hands in attendance. These
family weddings never include children.
We used the Victorian home for the reception because of its large dining
room and ridiculously large kitchen. Anneli wore white, which was absurd since I
fucked her the morning of her wedding day. She wore no panties or bra. Her dress
was cut low to allow much of her to spill up and out.
She kept tugging the neckline up, but I kept tugging it down and slapping her
hand. I wanted the top half of her areolas to show, to entice the guests.
The trouble with her tits, of course, is that they are really much too big for her
wedding dress, so a peek at her areolas meant her nipples occasionally leaped from
behind the white lace. And when one of the farm hands, in his dancing exuberance,
stepped hard on the back hem of her delicate, white lace wedding dress, the entire
back ripped away, revealing her perfect bubble butt.
For the briefest of moments the party seemed to end. One of my female
cousins broke that tension by ripping away substantial parts of her own dress,
revealing her left leg to her hip and offering glimpses of her pantyless pussy.
Everyone started giggling and carrying on then, with the groomsmen
removing their rented shirts (carefully) and another female relative using her
butthole to hold one of the bridesmaids’ bouquets. She started a conga line that
alternated farm hands and female relatives.
10
Anneli seemed more relaxed once she realized the “rules,” of the family, such
as they are, were fairly loose. She immediately noticed when my farm hands, one
by one, offered their hands to escort some of the female guests to one of the many
bedrooms, returning in 15 minutes or half an hour. She immediately noticed when
many of those escorted female guests returned each time with fewer and fewer
articles of wedding clothes on.
By the evening, with a fair bit of farm-made wine and moonshine helping to
ease nerves, the farm hands paraded around only in boots and socks, with my
female relatives down to corsets, waist cinchers, or nothing at all.
Anneli caught on. She took five of my female cousins down to the basement,
to give them a tour of what she assumed would be in this Victorian home’s
basement as well as her own. When she came back upstairs with only two cousins,
I realized how thoroughly she caught on.
She used her simple hand gestures and endearing smile (plus, of course, those
tits and her bubble butt) to draw a half dozen farm hands to the basement. The two
female cousins who’d gone down and returned upstairs followed the parade,
giggling and peeling off whatever remained of their clothes.
With the basement door kept open, everyone could hear the noises: groans,
shrieks, the slicing whir of the whips, all punctuated by laughter. I didn’t mind. I
could have Anneli clean up everything later. I wanted everyone to enjoy
themselves. Because once they left, and once the farm hands returned to their
chores, this house and any of the others would be ours alone, only for Anneli and
me. She, without clothes, following my orders, and me, with clothes, taking her
when I wanted.
Of course, my cousins and my whole family did not just suddenly wake up to
wedding behavior like this. It is a family tradition, really, one we are all proud of.
The women in my family know: they serve the men. They submit to their men and
are in turn protected by them.
A scant baker’s dozen of my extended family in attendance at the wedding
that day was obviously pregnant. Fortunately for everyone, they were among the
11
very first to loosen their gowns, body cons, bubble skirts, and halter tops. The
pregnant women in our family are proud of their pregnant bodies, and rightly so.
Several of my pregnant relatives wore clingy black mini dresses with large,
framing ovals open around their bellies. Their seven-month or eight-month bellies
jutted out from the inky black fabric, advertising their pregnancies. Inviting
attention. Inviting cocks to spill cum on them.
It was a dress, I knew, that one of my braver cousins had perfected in her
second of five pregnancies some years ago. It immediately caught on with the
other pregnant wives. What better way to demonstrate your submission to your
husband than letting everyone know your body was his to fill with cum, as often as
he liked? To fill with cum, to force into pregnancy, to use for his own pleasures?
Come, see my huge belly, displayed to show you my subservience to my husband’s
cock!
Their display on my wedding day (which was, of course, also Anneli’s
wedding day) encouraged so many other women of the family to carry on the
family traditions of freely sharing, of showing off their flesh and subjugating
themselves to the men of the family. To the men at the party.
The wedding celebration lasted from that Saturday into Tuesday morning,
when I unbuckled the last handful of the women from the various bits of bondage
furniture in the basement. By that time, naked Anneli was already moving about
the Victorian, often on her hands and knees, cleaning, tidying, picking up.
Cleaning cum off just about every surface.
I didn’t mind helping her, really, because every now and then I would step in
front of her and she would drop to her knees and suck my cock, or tongue my balls.
And then she would ask me with her flashing hands and halting English if she
could continue cleaning up after the wedding bash.
After a few weeks, back in our honeymoon house, she became accustomed to
asking my permission for just about everything. When to go to bed, if she could get
up from the bed in the morning, when to eat, what she could eat, if she could help
me pump up my dick, if she could wear her pussy pump, when she could use the
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toilet. I liked it. I liked controlling her. I liked the way she made love to my dick,
and the way she moved around the house.
I liked watching her go up and down the stairs, that bubble butt dancing and
swaying. She had a lot of thigh gap, which was not my fave, but she had generous
hips that, my female relatives told me, would make her ideal for getting pregnant
and pushing out babies.
She was not allowed any birth control, of course. She became familiar with
our routine, which meant she was used fairly constantly throughout the day,
walking around the house with my cum still dripping from her pussy or glazing her
plump lips.
At night I was more serious about trying to get her full of cum and on her way
to being full and round. I used her freely, of course, fucking those nice tits I paid
for, fucking her mouth and those lips I paid for. But when I spurted hot cum, it was
always deep inside her compliant pussy.
After shooting a load into her, I made Anneli lie on her back for half an hour,
knees up to her big, fake tits, to keep my cum deep inside her. And then we would
go again. My typical night was to get her off once or twice but for me to unload at
least three times inside her.
Well, it clearly worked out.
She may not have wanted to become pregnant, but I didn’t care what she
wanted; I wanted her to get big and round, so I could fuck her even more. I
controlled her womb, not her. I controlled her.
The next family gathering some months after our wedding found her
displaying her belly in the family standard, the black dress with the oval cutout to
allow that luscious, generous, gorgeous belly to protrude. It invited the attendees to
come up and, whether Anneli wanted them to or not, to stroke and rub her belly.
Who could resist? Family members, both men and women, availed themselves. It
was family tradition, wasn’t it?
She waddled about, a moving advertisement of my dominance over her. All
could see that I owned her pussy, owned her womb. She did what I wanted, bowed
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to my wishes, and became full and round as I ordered. Her pale Nordic skin
contrasted sharply with the black dress. I had ordered it from a seamstress cousin a
half size too small, on purpose, so it rode up over her bubble butt and was hemmed
just at her crotch, so as she walked, glimpses of her gleaming, excited pussy
showed to everyone. And barely two inches above the hem, the bottom of the large
oval cutout started.
Anneli had become accustomed to abandoning privacy and shame in our
home. farm hands came and went as she nakedly crawled on all fours on the floor,
or knelt naked by my side as I conducted business in my downstairs office, or lay
helpless on our couch on her stomach, her hands handcuffed behind her back and
her feet trussed together, with my dick in her mouth.
So Anneli simply stood patiently as family members and farm hands stepped
forward to rub and stroke her gorgeous, sumptuous belly jutting out from the black
fabric. She was Norwegian; she had no idea if this was a custom exclusive to our
farm or common across the country. She gently tolerated the hands, the groping
fingers, and the leering smiles.
That day, as the party progressed and family members grew a bit feistier,
Anneli rose to the challenge of enduring another family tradition: the many
pregnant wives in their black display dresses stepped one-by-one onto the chalk
circle drawn right on the old yellow pine plank flooring of the farmhouse living
room.
The chalk circle was some eight feet across, drawn by two of my farm hands
to match the number of pregnant wives who could fit around it. This year, 11
women needed around 25 feet of floor space; an eight-foot circle.
The pregnant wives stepped onto the chalk line and turned, their thrusting
bellies facing outward. Each held a small vial of fragrant oil in her hand. Each
stood ready, waiting for the men of the family. They stood waiting so that all the
men who wished to avail themselves could spurt cum on the proffered bellies.
The circle of women, all with their heads down, their eyes shy, stood very still
in contrast to the raucous, rowdier and larger circle of men, their cocks stiff and
14
shining from their lust. A man would stand before his particular desire, and she
would slowly oil her belly. Then she would caress and rub the man’s cock, riding it
against her flesh and running her hand back and forth.
Soon enough, the man would shoot cum onto her belly. Soon enough, the
room smelled deep and full of the musky, earthy odor of all their cum. With each
spurt, the lucky woman receiving the man’s attentions rubbed the cum slowly,
lovingly into her belly.
Family tradition said this helped prevent stretch marks. To be honest, nobody
had any idea if it did or not. It didn’t matter; the men enjoyed it, and the wives
were there to please the men. All the men.
Anneli, seeing the other ten pregnant wives forming the circle, readily stepped
forward even before fully understanding what was to happen. She smiled initially,
and then saw what her companion wives to her left and right were doing — their
eyes looking down at their own bellies, their shame fully on display.
The grunts and moans of the men using all 11 women so freely kept the mood
festive even as the degrading humiliation of the women threatened to cast a cloud
on the party. And there was no shortage of men. Every farmhand had a few
enthusiastic encounters, and every male family member, and all the wives’
husbands (including myself, four times but not once on Anneli).
The women who were not pregnant laughed and whooped, with one or two
more practical-minded ones taking dishcloths to the floor to wipe up the cum.
More than a few also took the opportunity to clean off the farm hands’ and
husbands’ cocks, or to lubricate them with their spittle.
In past years, I’d seen the circle as large as 19 pregnant wives. Nineteen
bountiful bellies framed in black fabric, their pale skin almost glowing in contrast.
Nineteen joyous, round bellies becoming bathed in cum, heavy gobbets of cum
sliding down their oiled, glistening flesh. Ah, the annual cumming on bellies is a
wonder to behold!
This year’s celebration was no exception.
A good time was had by all.
15
Perhaps not all.
Perhaps Anneli, as the newest member of this exclusive circle, had less of a
festive time than the other ten pregnant beauties. For whatever reason, many of the
men opted to finish on her belly, so by the time the last man spurted, she was
awash with cum and stood above a sticky, viscous puddle of it. She was unable to
wipe it all off her belly.
The party wound down. I made Anneli stay standing where she was as the rest
of the partygoers departed. She knew of course she would be cleaning everything
up eventually, but she had no idea what I intended by making her remain in her
spot as the circle of pregnant bellies fell away.
Still, she did not object. It was not her way. It would never be her way, not
with this pregnancy or the long line of pregnancies I anticipate into the future.
So, self-conscious as she was, she stood still in her little black dress, smeared
as it was with cum from the countless blasts from my relatives and farm hands. She
watched the party guests wave and nod and smile as they walked out the front
door, leaving her to stand in the puddle of cum, alone.
She stood still except for running her hands over her belly, through the thick
paste of the men’s cum. As the last family member left — a young woman collared
and leashed, led away by one of my farm hands — I closed the front door and
turned to Anneli.
I stepped up behind her and unzipped the black dress. She shimmied her arms
out and I tugged the dress down around her belly as I stood behind her, grinding
into her bubble butt. I deliberately dropped the dress into the small, gel-like mound
of cum at her feet.
She reached back behind her and unzipped my pants, allowing my dick to fall
free from the fabric. I ran it hard against her ass cheeks, but she stayed facing away
from me since I had not ordered her to do otherwise.
I reached around her hips to run my hands from her sides forward, along her
big belly. I splayed my fingers, my dick pressed hard and upright between her ass
cheeks, as I hefted her pregnant belly. I moved it up and down, and then side to
16
side. It was firm, yet easily movable in my hands. It made my dick harder than it
had been all day.
She is far shorter than I am, so of course my knees were flexed to lower
myself just a bit. I wanted my dick between her ass cheeks, not the middle of her
back. I was moving up and into the cleft of her ass with my cock. I felt Anneli suck
air in sharply as she realized how close my dick was to her backside, to her smaller
hole.
In the nights, weeks, and months of our marriage, I had never once moved to
take her in that smaller hole. I’d run my dick between her cheeks, my thighs raking
against her small, thin thighs as I straddled her.
I shoved my dick forward and back between her ass cheeks enough to spurt
hot cum up the length of her back and into her blonde hair.
I made her lie very still after that, my cum cooling and drying on her back and
in her long mane. I leaned over her and whispered pillow talk and perversions into
her curving ear, my dick softening between her ass cheeks.
But I had never tried to pry open her smaller hole.
She need not have worried. I had no intention of taking her that way, not here
in the living room of one of our homes. I was saving that special moment for later,
for a few weeks from now.
For the moment, I ran my dick between her ass cheeks and reached around
her to squeeze her generous belly. I rubbed my hands over her jutting bump and
felt my cum rising. Still keeping her in her position, I moved around to her front,
and took her right hand in my left and guided it to my dick. She understood.
Looking up with those endearing, dark blue eyes, she stroked my cock until
cum spurted onto her belly, onto the protruding, arrogant orb of flesh she offered
me. My cum shot again, and again, and again, roping across her flesh, striping her
and criss-crossing her. A fifth, and then a sixth burst of hot, sticky cum that
signaled my complete pleasure at her form, at her submission to me, at her
obeisance.
17
My cum frosted her belly, riding over the glaze already drying on her taut
flesh. She looked at me with questioning eyes. Was she to smooth my cum out,
too, as she’d done with all the others?
I indicated that she was to plow through it with both hands. I wanted to see
her marked with my cum, slathered with it. My dick did not soften one bit as I
watched her dutifully wipe and rub my cum across her big, round belly. She
glanced down at the sight from moment to moment, but mostly locked eyes on me,
ensuring I was satisfied with her work.
She squeezed my cock head between her thumb and index finger to capture
the last droplet of cum from my cock hole. This she took up to her lips and
carefully, slowly drew into her mouth. My cock jutted and thrust at her belly as she
did this.
I had not intended to go further, but she was maddening. She understood
immediately and slowly slid her feet apart, to allow easier entry for me into her
pussy. I fucked her standing up, standing there in our living room. She parted her
pussy lips with one hand and continued to smooth my cum across her belly with
the other, even as my muscled abdomen pushed against her.
I shoved up into her, in one thrust lifting her clear of the cum-sticky floor.
Then down again, my dick riding deep up into her and she rubbing her clit
furiously. I had just cum, and cum a lot, so I knew I could enjoy this upright fuck
for some time before surging into her.
She tipped her head back and her mouth opened, and she let out a long, deep
moan. Her body shuddered but she continued to rub and massage her clit as I
pounded her pussy with my thick, hard dick.
I dropped my head to chew her nipples. I used one hand to clench her ass
cheeks to me, to lock her onto my dick as I shoved as hard as I could into her. I
wanted her pussy bruised, I wanted her hip bones aching.
My other hand slid across the side and top of her pregnant belly, through the
very cum I had spewed only minutes before. I didn’t care. I made her lick my hand
clean, the fresh, sticky cum thick on my fingers.
18
She took each finger into her mouth, tonguing me madly and swallowing all
the cum clinging to my fingers.
Whatever I asked of Anneli, she would do. I asked her to reshape her body for
my pleasure, to alter her tits and lips for me. She did it.
I forced her to get big and round for me, not so much for the child within but
for my dick’s pleasure. She did it.
I made her display her submission to the rest of my family, to stand still as
men she barely knew shot their cum onto her stretched belly. She did it.
I knew that by now, all these months into our marriage, Anneli would obey
me, no matter what I commanded her to do.
I shot deep inside her pussy, my dick soaked with her pussy juices and riding
in and out of her velvet glove. Gouts of my cum flooded her and oozed back down
around my dick, sliding down along the inside of her thighs. She kept rubbing her
clit, bringing herself to orgasm two more times before I withdrew.
I noticed I’d teased a little blood from her right nipple; I didn't care, and she
didn’t seem to notice. As I stepped back, I saw my cum still smeared across her
face where she had been careless licking my fingers.
She still stood above the cummy mess on the floor, where my male relatives
and the farm hands had unloaded on her during the party.
That would not do.
I stared down at the small heap. She seemed to understand. She clumsily knelt
down, her body still shaking from tremors after her orgasms. She closed her eyes
once or twice, lost in her own private space, and then sighed deeply.
She flashed her tongue out, licking and sucking up the cum that had sloshed
from her own protruding belly. She worked slowly, carefully, letting it smear
across her own face and into her hair without straying any farther across the floor.
I watched for a while, moving around to look at her from behind. She was
crouched folded down, her belly dropping between her thighs and her ass exposed
to me. My fresh cum still oozed and dripped from her pregnant pussy. Her asshole
19
dangerously winked at me, seeming to pulse with her throbbing pussy, still
enjoying ripples of her orgasms.
Her belly was large enough that she could not get completely down onto the
floor without pressing it into the wide wood boards.
I went to find my pump, and loaded my still-hard dick into it and gave the
handle a few squeezes. My dick filled the tube, slickened by Anneli’s pussy juices
and my own cum. I detached the hose and let the stiff plastic bob and dance as I
moved around Anneli, watching her.
She worked contentedly, fulfilling my unspoken order. She glanced up every
now and then and ran her hands up and down the plastic case of my dick pump.
She was so accustomed to seeing me in it, it was simply part of our routine, part of
our lives together.
I turned away from her and bent forward. She understood that, too, and
reached between my legs to pull down on the tube to cause my entire dick to
straighten between my legs and then shoot up, springing back. She did this a few
more times before straightening up to lick my balls.
She licked and caressed and worshiped my balls, all the while rubbing her
hands along the heavy, clear plastic of the dick pump.
I turned back around to face her. She smiled up at me, knowing she’d made
me happy. She stared at my dick inside its tight confines, swelling and darkening
by the minute. She bent back down to get the last of the cum off the floor.
When she stood, again clumsily because of the heft of her belly, she presented
herself, raising her face up to me for approval. Cum was smeared all around her
mouth and nose, on her cheeks, above her eyelids. Still she smiled, and then she
gently released the valve on my dick pump. She slid the tube away and
immediately began caressing and stroking my swollen, fat dick.
What started as a little fun after the party turned to an extended session of
cock worship as she knelt back down and struggled to take as much of my pumped
dick into her mouth as she could.
20
She and I both knew she would not likely wrest another load of cum from me.
No matter. She wanted to honor my dick, to show humble gratitude to the source of
her comfort, nourishment, entertainment, and pleasure in our home.
She sucked and licked and tongued me for nearly an hour on her knees, her
belly thrust between my spread legs as I stood over her.
As she sucked and worshiped, I spoke gently to her.
“This is no coincidence, dear Anneli, that when you kneel you are level with
the dick you owe everything to. You kneel and the center of your world is there, in
front of you, angry and red and thick. Only you can calm this dick, take the force
and passion out of it, take in all the cum it offers you. This dick forced you to be
pregnant, Anneli. This dick is your world, Anneli.”
“Dominick’s nice cock is everything to Anneli, sir,” she said. She kissed the
very tip of my cock slowly, reverently. Then she licked the entire underside and
sucked each ball deep into her mouth, carefully, lovingly raising my shaft in her
right hand. And then, freeing the balls, she nuzzled in deep, burying her face
against the underside of my ball sack. She held my cock high, the thick, still-ruddy
tip overwhelming her petite hand.
When she pulled back, she only pulled away enough to bring her head up and
open her mouth. With as smooth a movement as I’d ever felt from her, she took my
pumped, swollen dick into her mouth and further, into her throat. All the way, until
her lips — those thick, hungry, sexy lips — were pressing gingerly against my
abdomen. She held herself there and put both hands on the back of my thighs as I
stood before her, to hold me to her.
Seconds passed. She did not flinch. More time, and she did not even breathe. I
felt her tongue running side to side under my dick, tickling and caressing the shaft
buried in her mouth and throat.
And finally, slowly, exquisitely slowly, she began withdrawing from my dick.
When enough of my shaft was free of her pursed, fat lips, she held her hands in a
quiet prayer pose on either side of my dick, cradling it. And when my cock head
exited those lush lips, she paused and ran her tongue into my cock hole, to wring
21
the last droplet of cum from me. Several final, slow kisses all over my cock head, a
line of kisses and licks up and down my shaft, and she was done.
Anneli had truly learned her place.
Over the next two months, as her pregnancy progressed and her belly grew
even larger, she seemed to grow more compliant, if that was possible. We settled
into a routine of an hour or two of cock worship, a few morning fucks, and a
vigorous visit to the basement dungeon after lunch.
The farm was doing well; I had little reason to interfere with my farm hands
and their work. I could devote myself to supervising and guiding my bride,
molding her as I wished.
She went about the house naked, always, on my orders. She was always ready
to help me with pumping, with pulling the cylinder from my thick, fat dick, and
with caressing my dick. I attached her pussy pump to her for ever-longer periods,
hoping she would accept it as readily as she accepted the toy I wore with
increasing frequency.
She found her chores were harder, but not impossible, with the pussy pump
on her mound and her enormous belly growing larger as she approached her ninth
month. The pussy pump drew out her pussy lips, fattening them and making them
more sensitive. If we were both pumped up for about half an hour, the sex was
wondrous. We combined my fat cock and her swollen pussy in a perfect blend of
painful and magical.
One afternoon, one of my uncles was eyeing Anneli go about her naked
chores in our house, her pussy pumped and swollen inside its big chamber, when
he quietly informed me of the special delights in watching a hugely pregnant
woman lie on her back on the floor or a bed and then struggle to get up. Such a
simple task, he said, but cock-hardening and very satisfying to watch.
It was the struggle, the demeaning act of suffering under the burden a man’s
cock had forced upon her with her pregnancy and then answering to that man to
rise up, to lift that burden for his pleasure. My uncle stumbled upon this during one
of his lengthy training sessions with his pregnant wife. He’d exhausted her with his
22
demands, and she finally tried to raise herself one last time to perform as he
directed. He happened to be in such a position that her looming belly was all he
could see of her; that, and her sopping wet pussy and sleek legs.
Despite having cum many times that night, my uncle found his cock
hardening and rising to take his wife once again, making her comply with his
orders to lift her huge, mountainous belly off their fucking bed. As she groaned, he
merely reminded her that her role was to obey and to give her body to him for his
whims.
That was the enjoyment of it; reminding the hugely pregnant woman that her
body, her day, her motions were not hers to control. He said he enjoyed it very
much.
I decided I would enjoy that, too.
Whether Anneli would enjoy lifting her burden from such a position was
inconsequential; she was here to provide for me, and that meant satisfying my
curiosity and sexual whims. So I had two day beds installed in the dining room.
The farm hands seemed confused at first, storing the antique Mission style dining
table and setting out two newly acquired day beds, angled toward each other.
Anneli, I realized, learned best by example. I invited one of my pregnant
cousins to the house to show Anneli what the daybeds were for. My cousin exited
the pickup truck’s passenger seat already naked (it is the family’s way) and walked
slowly up our walk to the house, Anneli’s nose and triumphant belly were both
pressed against the living room window the entire time.
Quick introductions — this cousin had not been at the wedding and had not
been pregnant enough at the most recent family gathering for most of the men,
including myself, to notice her. Now, of course, her belly: ripe and inviting; and
she only in her seventh month. Her husband texted me that she was having triplets,
though she did not know it.
Again, the custom of the family was to limit the information our pregnant
wives had about their own bodies. Their bodies were for their husbands (and for
23
the men in the extended family, of course), so what did it matter if they knew they
were carrying one, two, or three in their mountainous bellies?
Anyway, my cousin clambered up onto the porch and swept into the dining
room, knowing only that her husband had ordered her to present herself to me and
take a spot on the daybed to her left as she entered my home. She sat down rather
quickly; she tired fast carrying her load.
My cousin’s belly was pronounced, a massive, pendulous belly that widened
as it emerged from her frame.
Some of my pregnant family members look as if half a beach ball has been
affixed to them, just a rude projection of alluring flesh that seamlessly joins with
their torso.
Some of my pregnant relatives look like they snuck up behind one of those
large exercise balls. Their bellies sweep out and around, rather than straight back to
their hips. That was this cousin; a splendid, gargantuan belly that seemed tenuously
attached to the rest of her.
It was her duty to carry this burden around and offer it to any man who
wanted to enjoy her. It was her responsibility to offer her belly to men of the
family, to their cocks as her husband directed. Though she married into the family,
she adopted our customs readily, taking her place of submission to her husband
and offering her body — her mouth, her tits, her asshole, her cunt, her belly — is
subservient service to any cock desiring her.
As with all the women of our family, she couldn’t help but run her own hands
over her massive belly. Of course she ran her hand through a sticky trail of cum;
her husband had dropped her off only after a quick round of enjoying her. Who
could blame him?
I spoke quietly to her as she sat on the very edge of the daybed, my cock
stiffening as I shoved it into her mouth to harden even more as I gave her the sense
of my desires. She nodded as she took me into her throat. The women of my family
were not expected to talk as much as they were expected to use their mouths to
24
satisfy cocks. She understood what I was after. Her belly was alluring, inviting,
and instructive. She would comply immediately.
I pulled from her and motioned for Anneli, who was, as usual, standing
behind and beside me, to sit on the daybed to my right.
I stepped back and pulled up a chair, so I was some distance from, but exactly
between, the two daybeds. My cousin waved at Anneli and then motioned for her
to copy her movements.
My cousin lay back, her feet flat on the floor and her legs folded at the very
edge of the bed, spread wide to make her pussy easy for me to see. At all times, the
women of the family were to display themselves, to open their bald pussies for
maximum enjoyment by the men around them.
Anneli looked over and did the same. I was treated to the two bellies, rising
up like glorious, fleshy hills, from the daybeds. The rest of each woman sank softly
into the cushions.
My cock rose straight up as I sat in the chair. I grunted my satisfaction to my
cousin and told her to proceed.
I could not see either woman’s head beyond their bellies; their stunning, full
bellies hid their faces, tits, hair, everything. They were obviously looking at each
other, so that Anneli could understand what to do.
My cousin’s hands rose up from her sides and smoothed over her gigantic
belly. Anneli did the same. Then the oil, drizzling down from each little bottle. It
reminded me of caramel sauce topping a flawless scoop of vanilla ice cream, the
oil streaks sliding down in long, sensuous paths from the rounded peak of each
belly toward their pussy mounds and thighs.
Then four small hands, smoothing and running over the oiled, glistening
flesh. Two huge bellies, my cousin’s even more pronounced than Anneli’s,
glimmering with oil and seeming to warm the room.
I grunted my satisfaction, noticing the slow, steady advance of precum
flooding from my cock hole. I called out to my cousin, explaining in detail how she
25
was to put her arms to her side, not turning in any way. I wanted to see her lift that
belly, that gorgeous, gigantic belly, straight up from the bed. I wanted to see
Anneli do the same.
My cousin, always eager to please the men of her family, moaned in
acknowledgement. She had serviced her own husband and my uncle in the same
fashion just days before. She knew the effect her lush form had on the men in her
life. She knew she hardened cocks every day, and through the nights. Her daily life
centered on accepting gobbets of cum from the men around her, watching their
cocks harden and lust for her, and opening herself to their attentions.
She groaned as she struggled, her arms stiffening first along her thighs and
then reaching straight behind her as she tried to rise, lifting that ripe, heavy belly
with her back straight, her burden pressing down on her small body and then that
glorious, full belly dropping between her splayed thighs as she reached a position
perpendicular to the daybed.
Anneli watched in horrified fascination and then repeated the movement. She
seemed at first pinned fast to the bed, her mighty belly holding her down against
all her power to rise up. But she made a deep, guttural sound and raised herself up,
her belly seeming to float up and guide her to the daybed’s edge.
And then they were there, presenting me with their two ripe, full bellies, my
cousin and my wife, side by side on their little daybeds. They knew their own
opinions of this display did not matter. They knew nothing they thought or felt
mattered. What mattered, they also knew, was the pleasure their round bellies
brought to me and to my rigid dick.
The oil continued to flow down over each of the massive bellies. My cock
continued to ooze precum. Both women smiled to watch me.
This may seem immature, but if watching them obey me once was good,
watching them follow my orders multiple times would be better, I was certain. I
was compelling them to struggle against their burdens for the pleasure of my dick.
I was reminding them with every muscle ache and pain that a man’s enjoyment of
their bodies was more important than their wishes, than their pain.
26
I was controlling them, dominating them, humiliating them.
So I wagged my hands at both of them, to lie back down and repeat the
struggle.
My cousin collapsed back onto her little bed immediately. Anneli wrinkled
her nose at me and sighed deeply.
Then, of course, Anneli complied.
She lay back down. I let them lie there for a moment, my cock rigid and
catching the gentle breezes of the dining room. I marveled at their heaping, rising
bellies, bellies that obscured all the unimportant parts of each woman. Their tits,
heads, and arms were almost unnoticeable with the rising flesh and their pussies
glistening at me.
I clucked my tongue and the two of them began again to try to lift their
massive, heavy bellies up from the bed, gathering all their strength to raise
themselves up awkwardly and present their flesh to me. Their bellies were their
gifts to my dick, to my balls, to me as the man controlling them.
Anneli smiled feebly to see the rigidness in my dick, the flood of precum
flowing down over my cock head and along my shaft. Instinctively she leaned
forward, making as if to get off the daybed to suck my dick and clean up the
precum. I shook my head, letting my shaft wave and sway before them both.
My cousin smiled in genuine happiness that, as a trained and submissive wife,
she could bring this joy to a man of her extended family.
I wagged my hands and they both fell back, their bellies shooting upward into
the clean, pure air of the dining room-turned display room. They were very much
on display, their magnificent, soaring bellies on full offering for me.
When Anneli finally sat upright for the fifth time, her breathing ragged, her
eyes closed in focusing on the struggle of rising beneath her burden, I surprised her
by standing in front of her, my dick thrusting into her rounded flesh as she drew up
and let her huge belly drop between her thighs.
27
She startled, smiled, and reached for my dick, stroking it gently and patiently
until I spurted cum all over her oiled belly. She laughed in satisfaction; she had
complied with my orders and she had brought her husband to a full, ball-tightening
cum.
My cousin, who watched in rapture as a man of her family used one of the
encircled, included women of her family, nodded and smiled. She had suffered
under her husband’s and many other cocks before, offering up her pain and fatigue
to please those cocks. She knew the joy of feeling a man shoot cum all over her
belly, a christening of manly excitement that had to be earned.
But I was not done.
I anointed my cousin’s pregnant belly as well, with a second flood of cum on
her immense flesh, flesh hiding triplets from the world and most especially from
her. She reached up to stroke me, and our hands mingled on my thick shaft. She
ran her thumb under my cock head, expertly touching the sensitive spot she knew
so well from all the male family members she’d serviced.
The third and fourth spurts landed on her noble and fine tits, and a bit
splashed against her raised chin as she smiled up at me.
My cousin had done her job. She’d shown my wife, Anneli, what I wanted.
She’d shown another pregnant, obedient wife what to do to please her husband.
I invited my cousin to stay as long as she wished. I said she could coach and
cajole Anneli through the rest of the day’s paces, if she desired. I wanted to repeat
this moment for some time, to force Anneli into complete exhaustion and see how
far past her limits she would go to obey me.
Anneli would relax and settle into the daybed, and then I would stand in front
of her and flick my finger; come here, it said.
I thoroughly loved both parts of this demeaning exercise: her huge belly
pressing her down into the daybed, and her struggle to rise from the bed, her arms
splayed out and her feet trying to plant firmly on the floor as she tried to lift that
belly, that jutting, rising mountain of stretched flesh that sat atop her like a perfect
sphere of sexual energy.
28
I did not want her to roll to the side no matter how tired she became; I wanted
her to lift and raise that belly toward me, thrusting it in offering to me.
And she did, over and over. Each time, she forced herself to get up, that belly
riding up ahead of her and pushing out into the cool, empty space of the display
room, an announcement of her submission to my dick.
She stood in her naked glory and reached out to stroke my dick. She turned
once or twice to stare at my cousin, who still lay back beneath her own heavy
belly. My cousin moaned in sexual excitement to watch another pregnant wife
service a husband.
Anneli realized after a few more of these exercises that she, too, was
becoming sexually charged by the experience, not least because she was on display
to another pregnant beauty. She stroked me, and then knelt down with great
difficulty to take my dick into her mouth. I spurted into her far too quickly,
groaning loudly in animal lust as my cum surged into her mouth and down into her
throat.
My cousin, her colossal belly pinning her against the soft cushions of the
daybed, tried to reach her own pussy and rub herself to climax as she watched us.
Even as my cum shot into Anneli’s mouth, I noticed her movements. My cousin is
very beautiful, and I have been intimately familiar with her body for many years.
She easily catches my eye.
No sooner had Anneli swallowed the last of my cum than I guided her up onto
her feet and then over, to the daybed my cousin occupied. I motioned for Anneli to
kneel again, this time before my cousin’s sopping wet pussy.
Anneli understood and stared up at me, her nose wrinkling. I smacked her
face with my still-hard cock, and pointed again. She sighed and turned, moving her
face between my cousin’s thighs and rushing her tongue out to find my cousin’s
clit.
My cousin writhed in delight, her immense belly swaying back and forth and
her breath getting ragged. Anneli gagged and coughed but for every time she
pulled away, she returned to bury her face in the folds of my cousin’s pussy.
29
Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was Anneli’s inexperienced but eager
tongue. My cousin came hard, and came again, and then again. With the crushing
weight of her belly pressing down on her lungs and diaphragm, her breathing was
already labored; with the added excitement of my wife’s tongue on her clit, my
cousin was in a precarious balance between agony and ecstasy.
After forcing Anneli to give my cousin her sixth orgasm (which, truth to tell,
my cousin did not want, but no matter; I wanted it), I gently helped Anneli to her
feet, her belly grazing up against the inside of my cousin’s thighs as she stood.
I escorted my obedient wife back to her own daybed and encouraged her to lie
back down, her feet still on the floor and her knees spread very wide so her pussy
was close to the bed’s edge. I returned to my cousin and used my rough fingers to
coax a seventh and final orgasm from her, my fingers rudely grinding over her clit
and pussy lips.
She thrashed her arms in protest, but she knew better than to controvert a
man’s decision. She would suffer another orgasm, with its painfully short breaths
and shuddering muscle spasms, because I wanted it. She would obey.
And then, watching her fall limp with exhaustion, I retrieved my cousin
simply by fluttering my index finger at her weary face in a silent command to rise
again, to heft her gorgeous, ample belly up for me.
She knew, without another word, what I intended. She struggled mightily to
rise up as I wanted, to jut her huge belly out at me, and to waddle over to where my
wife lay.
My cousin was to service Anneli, to return the grace of those many orgasms. I
knew from our family gatherings that just about all the women, pregnant or not,
had at some point tasted each other’s most intimate flesh. This would be nothing
unusual for my cousin, surely.
What was different, though, was the challenge, the burden of my exhausted
cousin trying to kneel down, to navigate the movement of her pendulous belly,
with its triplets deep inside, as she dropped to her knees.
30
The display room floor was old wood and cool to the touch. It chilled the
underside of my cousin’s protruding belly, and she gasped at the feeling.
But she immediately leaned forward, eager to comply to a man’s orders, her
tits grinding into the cushion’s side, her belly rubbing hard against the cool wood
floor, and her face working its way between Anneli’s narrow thighs. Licking,
tonguing, pressing hard against Anneli’s quivering clit.
Rolls of crashing orgasms — Anneli screaming out in pleasure and surprise at
the unfamiliar sensation of a woman’s tongue expertly licking and teasing her clit.
I contentedly ran my hands over both women’s bellies, alternating between them
and working a bit harder than I thought I should to heft and move Anneli’s great
belly.
With my cousin providing nine rippling, meandering orgasms to my wife, I
felt their time together was through. They would either attend again to me, or my
cousin would leave.
I lifted my cousin up from her position at Anneli’s pussy and asked her the
only question she’d heard all day.
Very few of the men in my extended family asked their wives and female
relatives anything; they issued orders. The wives and female relatives submitted to
those orders, obediently and quickly.
I asked my cousin if she wanted to remain with Anneli and me for a while —
to provide more pleasures to my cock and balls — or if she wanted to return to her
husband. She knew her pussy was off limits to me. She took a fevered moment to
consider her options, eyeing Anneli and her succulent pussy as she did.
Emitting a small whine, and reaching down to finger her own clit, my cousin
chose to leave, to see if she could entice her husband to make full use of her in her
excited state. Of all the men she served, he alone could enjoy her pussy; no other
male family member had the privilege. Despite her seven orgasms and her fatigue,
my cousin was primed to fuck, and to fuck a lot. She wanted a cock in her pussy.
Her husband, of course, had been waiting outside. Patiently, calmly waiting
for his naked, obscenely huge-bellied, pregnant wife to return to him. His wife,
31
familiar with the feeling of appearing everywhere without clothes, waddled naked
out of my home and down the porch stairs and down the walkway, my cum still
gleaming on her protruding belly and Anneli’s pussy juices still smeared across her
face.
As I began to close the front door, I watched my cousin climb with great
difficulty into the pickup truck and bend forward, her legs folding up under her so
her ass and pussy were facing me. She engulfed her husband’s thick cock and
(perhaps intentionally) showed me her butthole and wet slit.
I turned back, knowing her husband was getting a blow job for the ages and
soon would be pounding my cousin’s wet pussy. I turned back to my wife, to
Anneli as she lay on her daybed. She may have been eager to rush to the front
window once again, to press her nose and belly against the glass to glimpse her
newfound friend. I spent the rest of the morning compelling her to rise from the
bed with her thrusting belly offered to my dick and hands. She spent the rest of the
morning sexually satisifying me, time after time.
Sometimes she would suck me to finish in mere minutes, careful to pull off
and direct my cum onto her belly. Sometimes she would take more time, or I
would be slower to feel my cum rising, and she would raise herself to slide my
dick between her big, fake tits.
Sometimes, if I indicated with simple words (Anneli was picking up English
far faster than I was learning Norwegian), she would just oil up her belly and rub
my dick until I exploded onto her ample, taut flesh.
She now knew what I wanted from the daybed, which was to remain in the
display room/dining room for the foreseeable future. Bit by bit, room by room,
Anneli was learning to be the properly submissive, docile wife I wanted.
And then, in her ninth month, as I ordered her up off the daybed and reveled
in watching that belly sway and bob and weave toward me — a huge, ballooning
ball of flesh offered to me in supplication — I ran my hands over that welcome
flesh and slowly turned Anneli.
32
I turned her and bent her forward, back straight. I took the baby oil and
drizzled it down between her ass cheeks, and then I moved a single finger down
the cleft of her cheeks and stopped at her smaller hole.
She stood up straight and turned around, wrinkling her nose up at me. Her
English was simple, but obvious.
“No, pleasing, Dominick, not open wide pleasing.”
“You are my wife, Anneli.”
“I pleasing you any way you nicing, Dominick, not there.”
“You can’t have both. You can’t say you will please me any way, and then
say I don’t control that hole.”
She wrinkled her nose again. She was stammering for the words.
“I … I am for you, but that is not opening. Not wide for Dominick’s nice
cock, pleasing.”
“You are for me? You are mine?”
She nodded, smiling nervously. “Yes, I am yours, body is yours, all of me for
you, for Dominick’s nice cock. For farm hands, cousins, uncle. Sexy cousin with
nice tongue. I am family. I am yours.”
“But I am ordering you to open yourself for me. I want my dick in your
butthole.”
She stamped a foot and raised both hands into tiny fists and shook her arms
up and down. She struggled to reconcile all her conflicts, all her fears, in that
moment. She struggled, and failed. Tears fell down her high cheekbones and
sidewinded into the corner creases of her mouth.
“I tell you, Anneli, we will go very slow. Your tits are mine. Your lips and
mouth are mine. Your belly is mine.”
“Yes! Yes, Dominick, all yours, for you! Anneli’s nice poosy for you, only
you. No farm hands in Anneli’s poosy, no uncle in Anneli’s poosy. Only
Dominick’s nice cock in Anneli’s poosy. Baby yours, Anneli’s belly for your cum
33
all over, All — almost all — of Anneli for Dominick’s hot cum. Anneli loving
Dominick’s cum. But not … not that.” Her finger fluttered back behind her, to feel
the slickness of her ass cheeks from the baby oil.
“We are husband and wife, Anneli. I want all of you. Not just this and that
part of you. All of you. I want to fuck your butthole.”
She wrinkled her nose and frowned and tears fell again. She reached for my
dick and stroked it, hoping to distract me. She rubbed her jutting belly against my
dick, and used her other hand to massage my balls.
I would have none of it. Either I dominated her or I didn’t. Either she
submitted to me or she didn’t. She had barely experienced the basement furniture,
barely felt the flogger or suffered the paddle, in all the months of our marriage.
“You going very slowing, pleasing, Dominick. Dominick’s nice cock going
very slowing into Anneli’s small open.”
I nodded and stroked her shoulders and wiped away her tears. She turned, as
slowly as she possibly could, and handed me the baby oil bottle again.
“Lots of oiling, Dominick, on Anneli’s tiny hole before Dominick’s nice
cock, pleasing. Lots of oilings.”
She was nervous, and she was tight. I got three fingers in to loosen her up a
bit. Together they are roughly the thickness of my dick, so I really thought I could
continue. Lots of oil, going slowly. She was squealing a bit, to tell you the truth,
but once I got the head of my dick into her, the rest was easy. For me.
She submitted. She took it, all of it, until I was balls-deep inside her and
loving the feeling. I’d ass-fucked a few of my submissive female cousins and some
of the displayed docile wives before, but this was another level of tight, slippery,
hot lust.
This was my own Anneli, with her big, round fullness dropping beneath her
like a bloated water balloon, with my hands roaming over her belly while my dick
rammed in and out of her butthole.
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“Pleasing, cum Dominick, cum pleasing inside, now, pleasing.” Her voice
was rising in urgency.
She steadied herself on the edge of the daybed, rocking away and back as I
pounded into her. By now I didn’t worry about stretching her, all I worried about
was how far up her butthole I would shoot my load. I kept dripping baby oil around
her tiny, tormented opening and along my dick, but it really was not necessary. She
was plenty lubed, and my dick was plenty thick inside her.
“Dominick’s nice cock pleasing cum quick, cum cum cum pleasing.”
She kept squealing, and after a while, realizing I was going to take my time,
she reached back under her gorgeous belly to get one hand on her clit. I get it. She
was submitting her butthole to me, so she should have a little bit of fun, I guess.
“Cum, Dominick, pleasing to cum inside Anneli’s small hole, please. Please
cum. It hurts, it hurts. Oh, please cum please cum cum cum cum please.” She was
sobbing, her body shaking from tears and pain as I thrust even harder into her.
I did finally unload in her, way up inside her. In porn videos, the guys usually
cum with just their cock heads inside the slut’s asshole. That way, the slut can
easily push the cum out for a nice, visually exciting creampie.
But when I came inside Anneli’s butthole, I came deep and long and over and
over. I filled her, really topped her off with cum so she would be pushing it out for
at least a day.
She seemed grateful that I finally came.
And, whether she realized it or not, she made another step in her language
skills, with that final round of, “Please, please.” Gone was “pleasing.” Anneli
would please me for many encounters to come.
Of course I made her spread her bubble butt ass cheeks with both hands and
push out whatever amount of cum was near her butthole. She did, obedient as ever,
and then when she let go of her ass cheeks, my cum spread like butter between the
flesh mounds. It oozed down the curving inside of her thighs. It perfumed her with
that heavy, manly scent. She was marked. She was mine.
35
As each day got us closer to her due date, Anneli worked ever harder to
satisfy me. She lay on the daybed, displaying her heaping belly and fighting to
stand as I demanded, to offer her amazing belly for my pleasure, to spread her
bubble butt ass cheeks and take my dick into her small hole.
She moved awkwardly everywhere in the house. Her belly made every
movement a major adventure, with the taut flesh moving back and forth, her legs
waddling her about, her huge tits thrusting up and outward in perpetual offering.
She moved awkwardly outside, too, on days when I ordered her outside to
bring lemonade and ice water to the farm hands. They never minded her approach,
her engorged, fake tits with their deep brown areolas, her pussy with lips thick
from hormones, often capped with the strong, clear chamber of the pussy pump.
They fondled her belly and ran their hands over her ass, but they knew never to
touch or penetrate her pussy and butthole. Those, I’d made clear, were mine
exclusively. Sometimes she provided them refreshments with my cum dripping
fresh from her pussy or butthole.
Her waddle was endearing, especially when she had once been so athletic and
fit. She really was a tennis ball attached to an ice cream stick. Her belly looked
massive; flawlessly round, jutting out and riding high over her hips. Almost no
stretch marks, and a faint linea nigra from her belly button down to her pussy
mound. The bolt-on tits looked like perfect introductions to her thrusting,
welcoming belly. The pregnancy moved her tits upward and out, so her stiff
nipples — they were now perpetually stiff and excited — seemed to point like anti-
aircraft guns aimed at some unknown, airborne cocks swooping in to defile her.
She need never have worried about unknown cocks assaulting her. She had
plenty of attention from the many eager cocks of my farm hands. She seldom
returned from delivering refreshments to the farm hands without a coating of cum
on that belly and those tits.
Any shyness my Anneli had at her arrival all those months ago, any hesitation
to give herself freely at my command, was now long gone. This Anneli was eager
to please me, willing to do everything I ordered of her, and fast to comply. She had
enough English to know which flogger I told her to retrieve. She learned enough of
36
my family to offer a visiting male relative exactly what he wanted in a sexual
indulgence.
The family tradition was to respect the boundary of the wives’ pussies,
especially during pregnancy. But just about anything else was part of the family
culture. No wife, pregnant or not, was unfamiliar with the equipment in my
basements; all my male relatives had such a room. Some were more modern than
others.
Some of the equipment I used on Anneli had been handed down for several
generations of fathers and sons. The anal bench I have in the Craftsman-style home
had been a family heirloom since my great-great grandfather sent it back East from
Dotsero Springs, Colorado as a gift for his brother. That big-dicked ancestor of
mine built the thing and it has been used to keep the family’s women in line for
many a year.
My ancestor, who like all my male relatives had a certain yearning for
pregnant women and anal sex, built it to accommodate his bride, Yesenia, even as
she was full and ripe with his child.
Children.
He used the bench on her throughout their long marriage, even after he had
grandkids and she was no longer fecund.
But when Yesenia was fecund, when her belly grew dramatically full and
heavy, she could still be strapped into my great-great-grandfather’s anal bench and
her belly would hang down, free and available for his amusement as he took her
butthole. Family lore says he was well hung. Enough, apparently, to hurt Yesenia
every time he fucked her butt.
Leonidas — my great-great grandfather — was a leather worker, not a
carpenter, but that bench is still perfect. The leather has been sweated into and
lubed for generations, let me tell you. Arm pads. Knee pads. Shin pads, and
bracelets to lock down ankles and wrists. A nice, looping leather pad for the head,
so the wife’s face can slip into the hole in the middle of the pad. A neck bracelet to
keep her steady.
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Once a wife is in the anal bench, she is in. Family lore — and a few cousins
who we’ve strapped into it — says it can be a little intimidating at first. Anneli
took to it right away, though! She knew what I wanted, and she wanted to please
me. Besides, it was probably comfortable for her, in those last few weeks before
she was ready to deliver. Strapped in more or less on all fours, her head
comfortable in the cushion. Opened wide so I could use either of her holes to have
my way. Her body was for my use, after all.
The first time we tried it, I used her and the bench for only about two hours.
Three good cums, twice in her butthole and once in her pussy. Nothing special. She
was sore for a day or two, but that didn’t matter to me. I wasn’t sore. She was
going to be very sore soon enough.
The second, third, and fourth times we used Leonidas’ anal bench, I kept her
strapped in it all night. I started with her just after dinner (she made a lovely
mutton and cabbage concoction) and enjoyed her for some nine hours. By the end
of the night — morning, really — my dick was a little sore and my balls ached
from cumming seven times in her butthole, twice in her pussy, and once up along
her back. Yes, yes, of course her butthole was sore, but so what? She is mine; she
does what I say. And I said she should be strapped into the anal bench for a good,
long session.
Now, not faulting Grandpa Leon about his anal bench. He was very inventive,
even thinking of installing a little beaten-copper pan under the cross piece for the
back legs, so the wife could empty her bladder while still strapped into the bench.
Clever, really. And practical! Keep her bound, add a little to her humiliation;
nothing wrong with that! I’m not into watersports, but hearing Anneli dribble into
the pan, it singing out her lowly stature, makes me rock-hard.
No, Leonidas was very inventive and I find only a minor fault with his
century-old anal bench. The fault is, that belly — Anneli’s stunning, ripe belly —
was buried down below, dropping beneath her like a burdened cow. I couldn’t get
to it, couldn’t shoot cum onto it, could fondle it only so much.
So I set to work in the woodshop — it’s a farm, we have all sorts of
outbuildings — and built Leon II, an anal bench with a rotating platform. Fuck her
38
butthole with belly down? No problem. Want to turn her like a pig on a spit roast
so her belly is up and available, but still have access to her butthole? No problem.
Leon II works a bit like a small concrete mixer works, with gears and levers and
such. Wooden gears for the charm and simplicity, but still gears and a lever.
The first afternoon I had Anneli in it, she was nervous but willing. Always
willing. She came out to the woodshop to see it. That itself provided some
entertainment for the farm hands, who watched her parade from the Craftsman-
style home’s back kitchen door across the yard to the shop, naked and full and
round. Her long, blonde hair lifting and whispering in the wind, her thighs looking
a little fuller with her added pregnancy weight. Still the bubble butt. Still the big,
fake tits riding high and proud.
These days I had her wearing nipple clamps most of the time, just because I
enjoyed reminding her that I owned those fake tits of hers. Small bells on them
helped me keep track of her. They also announced her to the farm hands. So her
little trek from house to workshop led to a tiny parade of passionate and curious
followers, who watched her waddle into the workshop and right over to where I
had the thing set up.
At first, Anneli wrinkled up her nose at the construction, which I named Leon
II in my ancestor’s honor. I still had some smoothing to do, and I’m not the leather
worker Grandpa Leonidas was. So, yes, it was a bit rough. But she understood and
bent herself into the at-first familiar direction. Face in the pad, wrists locked in,
legs splayed. Her large tits hung down, the clamps and bells dangling.
I let the farm hands watch — such events help with productivity and made
them feel part of the larger family — as I tried her out in her pussy and her
butthole. This time, with her weeks of training, she handled me without lube.
I say “handled me,” but that doesn’t mean taking my dick deep into her
butthole was without a bit of … a challenge … for Anneli. I think it hurt, perhaps
quite a bit actually, but no matter. Her issue, not mine. It’s her butthole she needs
to loosen or widen, not anything I need to do.
39
Butthole. Pussy. Butthole. And then, a turn of the crank on my right, and the
entire bench moved clankety-clank, rotating 180 degrees with Anneli squawking
and moaning. She knew it would happen, but it still startled. The farm hands
laughed a bit.
With my dick waving and wagging, I moved from her pussy and butthole up
around to Anneli’s head and pulled a small retaining pin. It allowed the facepad to
hinge away, but then I could bring up another headrest for her, so she still had the
support she needed.
And it made her mouth accessible. I had her suck me a bit to take some of the
strain off the rest of her. I could slide in and out of her mouth, my hands groping
those great, fake tits as much as I liked. And then, by angling just right, I could
shove further into her mouth and still reach her belly.
That belly. That divine, enormous belly rising up from her small frame, from
those slender hips and thin, muscular thighs. Ah, that belly!
To relieve the strain on her wrists and ankles, I had four little hinged parts
that flipped into place, to hold her up in this position, with legs up, bent, and
splayed. Now her butthole and pussy were still available, but so was her belly. A
guy could spurt on her from the side, or from down near her pussy, or from her
head. Plenty of opportunity to rub and fondle and smack that big belly. Plenty of
skin surface for cum.
Plenty. She squealed and fussed a bit — I told you I needed to work on a few
rough spots — but for the most part, it was a huge success. My dick found her
pussy and butthole very easily. In, out. In. Out.
Finally, a quick surge of cum by pulling from between her legs and shooting
up along that belly, my hands still moving across her mound of firm, ripe flesh. I
didn’t realize until a few minutes later that the second spurt went up and smacked
her in the eye.
Anyway, I was done. I invited the farm hands to have a go at her butthole,
too, if they wanted. Or her mouth. Just not her pussy, not so close to her delivery
date.
40
And they did, about a baker’s dozen of them. I just watched, and made some
notes about sanding this or tightening that.
Watching them have a go at her, and watching Anneli in Leon II, I began to
hatch a positively brilliant idea; she could start her labor in this.
She could recreate a lot of what dear Yesenia went through, all those years
ago. Anneli could be forced to deliver my son — I hope she delivers a son — in
the workshop, perhaps, or in a barn.
Yes!
In the barn, strapped into the Leon II, to be taken in her butthole and fucked in
her pussy during contractions.
How long does labor last? I would have to ask several of my relatives’ wives.
Some in that pregnant circle, their bellies offered in beseeching silence to the men
of the family to be christened with their spurting cum, would know how long their
labors lasted, surely.
Anneli may want to enjoy the comforts of a hospital, of a maternity room, of
clean sheets and sterile gloves.
But is that what I want?
Is that best for me, best for my dick? Or is her huge, ballooning belly best
kept right here, for me to enjoy up until the last possible moment?
It was a good plan. I discussed it over the next day or so with several of the
farm hands. I contacted a few uncles, who also heartily approved. They all wanted
to come by and see the Leon II, and naturally some of them wanted to bring their
pregnant wives.
I ordered Anneli to be on hand with each pregnant wife, to watch as the docile
wife stepped into the device and her husband strapped her down. I wanted Anneli
to become accustomed to this, to expect exactly this. I wanted the Leon II to
become part of the background, a transparent bit of humiliation and my domination
over her.
41
She watched each of my male relatives take his own wife in all three holes.
She listened as the wives complied with their orders, moaned their pleasures, and
shrieked their agonies. She smelled and licked and tongued their pussies and
buttholes, and kissed their faces, and rubbed their bellies. All at the commands of
the men around her.
By the time the fifth husband arrived with his wife, Anneli was waddling
them out on her own, to the barn where Leon II was set up in anticipation of her
labor. She helped the wife into the harness, she turned the crank to rotate her, she
held the wife’s ass cheeks wide as the husband stretched her butthole with his
cock.
Anneli knew what to expect, at least. She would yield to me in delivery. She
would strap into the Leon II during her labor, during active labor. And then, when I
could wring no more pleasure from her body, when by balls were dry and my dick
unable to rise again, she would be let loose, to push out my son — I am sure it will
be a son — into the clean, fresh-smelling hay of the barn floor.
Part of my strategy in planning this and showing her what to expect was to
build in a bit of worry, a tension in Anneli. I enjoy playing off her … not fears,
really … let’s call them her … concerns … over the ways I use her. I wanted, with
Leon II and her impending labor, to keep my domination over her uppermost in her
mind.
It makes her pussy wet to always be thinking of my free use of her as she
would be strapped in, bound to the leather and sturdy wood. Opened to my dick
and unable to stop me from plowing her butthole, mouth, and pussy as the waves
of contractions engulfed her.
Women like to move around as the contractions hit. They walk; they ride big
bouncy balls; they take baths. I get it.
The wives of my relatives have explained it to me. They shuddered to think of
starting their labors bound into Leon II, into the oak frame and black leather straps
and iron bracelets. Then, to a woman, they gushed in their pussies and wanted to
42
see what it might feel like. The men of my family have trained their wives well.
Snap, click — bracelets binding wrists and ankles.
Well, I call them bracelets. Handcuffs and shackles, really. The relatives’
wives are accustomed to being shackled, chained, bound, leashed, and handcuffed.
A few of them enjoy it, surely.
Not that I’ve asked.
It’s not the way of my family’s men. The women are ours to control. We
don’t really worry whether they enjoy it or don't enjoy it. I think most of them do,
or have learned to.
Either way.
And if Anneli enjoys being strapped in, great. If she doesn’t and still delivers
my handsome baby boy, great, too. It’s on her, really. My duty is to use her, to let
her know my dick needs her, always. Protect her, keep her entertained. I had a duty
as her husband to help her to anticipate the next interesting moment in her life.
Why else would she want to stay married to me?
I’m not heartless. I got her several of those exercise balls women roll around
on, during labor, to get things moving. I listened as she complained in her halting
English about backaches and sore muscles and having to pee all the time. I
listened, or pretended to. Mostly, I dreamed about strapping Anneli into the device
I made with my own two hands and using her freely for hours, hours on end.
One of my uncles made a casual suggestion that if I knew Anneli’s due date, I
could count back from then and store up my cum. Until he mentioned it, I’d been
using Anneli several times a day, cumming with abandon each time. What did I
care? My last deliberate drought was when I flew Anneli in from Norway.
He had a point, though. I thought if I stored up, tapped my balls only once a
day, for maybe five or six days, then I could go at least seven or so times when she
finally did go into labor. I had to show her I could perform, right? I didn’t want to
disappoint her.
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Imagine, just for a moment, imagine being Anneli. You wait and anticipate
getting dominated in delivery by your husband, and then when he straps you in and
starts fucking your mouth, pussy, and butthole, he cums only two or three times.
That was it? He cares so little about you that he can only muster two or three good,
hard cums with you strapped into the anal bench?
How much doubt would fill your mind, how much would you question your
every decision, if he failed to use you good and hard and long during your labor?
Why should you even bother being his submissive, docile wife if that was the best
he could do?
No, I had to perform. I owed it to Anneli. Hours of hard use. Hours of my
pleasure extracted from her flesh, from her very pores of her stretched flesh, from
that ripe, heavy belly and those perfect, bubble butt cheeks. From her perfect bow
lips to her slippery, welcoming pussy to her tight, winking butthole, I would have
to use her over and over, flooding her with my cum.
It was really for her, you see, all the domination. To give her a sense of
security, of stability. A feeling of belonging, to this place, to this family, to me.
To remind her how hard I worked to make her feel welcome and part of the
family. And once I had her properly trained, I could not just waste her training,
squander her as a proper submissive. I had to keep up appearances. I had to
dominate her thoroughly, painfully, continuously during her delivery.
For her sake.
So then and there I resolved to show her just how much of a strong, virile
husband I could be. I would set a personal best record. I would use her hard, for
many hours, and cum no fewer than 11 times. I told her as much, and I even asked
for her thoughts on it.
“You wanting know how many times you cumming on your Anneli while I
pushing out your son through my poosy?” She said it — I don’t think she meant it
to sound this way — almost with a tone of disbelief. It must have been the
Norwegian accent, her bad English.
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“I … Dominick, your nice cock making Anneli very big in belly for you. For
you. I am working, wide making my poosy and pushing out baby. I am hoof-
poofing my breathes to make you Daddy, Dominick. I … I am will not be counting
cums from Dominick’s nice dick, no.”
That seemed a little abrupt, and I told her so. So she tried a different way,
thinking perhaps she had not been very clear.
“Agreeing, since other big-bellied wifes going into you handmaking small-
open-behind bench, your Anneli do this, too. Straps, straps, leather, paddings.
Holding your Anneli in fucking bench for starting of laborings. Please to make
Dominick proud, showing Anneli off to pregnant cousins. You, you use Anneli
please as you wish. I am on the laboring, the hoof-poof breathes. The poosy getting
wide and hot and big.”
And now I was concerned. She seemed to have no regard at all for what I
would be doing while she was strapped into the Leon II. She was only pregnant
because of me, because of my dick driving in and out of her pussy oh-so-many
times. Why all of a sudden was I being kept out of the process, here at this crucial
moment? She seemed almost like she didn’t care what was happening to me at all.
And I told her so. I told her she was being a bit rude to show such little regard
for what I was feeling, for my concerns about performing on her big day — our big
day.
Anneli stared at me very hard, very long. Those deep blue eyes seemed to
move past me, gaze through me. And then she nodded. At last. She seemed to
understand.
“No. Now I understanding Dominick with such a nice dick. Your Anneli had
not putting together the two plus the two, you know. Please, I understand.” To
show me she did understand, she moved from the daybed, where she had perched
for this conversation, down onto the floor in front of me. She’d not worn clothes in
many weeks. She was still glazed with a frosting of morning cum on her forehead
and in her hair. She knelt in front of me, carefully lowering her belly between her
thighs and starting directly at my semi-rigid cock.
45
“You taking nice dick, Dominick, and you splurting cum on your wife
Anneli’s face two times while I laborings. You splurting into your Anneli wife’s
poosy three times while I contractions and crampings. And you splurting your hot
cums deep inside your obedients wife Anneli’s tight butthole five times while my
poosy wides for your baby boy.”
She leaned forward, lifting her arms to grip the outside of my tensed thighs.
She lined her mouth up carefully with my cock head, now stiff and reddening at
her words. She slowly took me into her mouth, and then further, so that she — inch
by glorious inch — had me entirely inside her mouth and throat. She kept herself
there, just holding me, just warming up my dick, for some minutes. Her breathing
was slow and careful, methodical as her tongue darted around inside her mouth,
licking and tickling my shaft and the tender spot underneath my cock head.
And then she pulled from me entirely, saliva strings draping down over her
chin and lips and back to my dick.
“And you splurting at least three times only Anneli’s big, round belly while it
lasts for your. That is 13 cums with Anneli in fucking small-open bench, laboring
for our baby. No less than 13 cums, Dominick. No less. Use your Anneli, every
moment you can, Dominick. Use me now.”
And then she took my cock long and deep into her mouth again, sucking so
hard her cheeks drew in and she held herself hard against my groin. I felt her throat
tighten around my shaft and cock head. I felt her gulping and breathing hard
through her nose.
And of course I pumped cum straight down her throat. I felt her grip my
thighs and offer herself entirely to my cock, and I shot cum into her, down into her
gullet. She sensed when I finished, and she pulled very slowly off my cock,
allowing cum and spittle to mix and dribble down onto her belly, resplendent
beneath my cock and balls.
She tenderly kissed my cock, up and down the shaft, gently lifting it to suck
and lick my balls until she was satisfied she had cleaned me well.
46
She leaned away from me, her head pushing against the daybed cushion as
she struggled to her feet.
She stood before me, swaying uncertainly, and raised one finger to wag at me.
“Follow me,” the finger said, her mouth glazed with my cum but her lips not
moving.
She waddled from the display room to the kitchen, and then out the back
door. The screen door slammed behind her. I watched, and then hustled to follow
her, my dick wagging and pointing the way. Her ass cheeks rolled slowly as she
moved toward the barn.
Inside, she was already placing herself in the bindings of Leon II when I
ducked through the large barn door.
“We practice, Dominick. We practice your wife Anneli inside fucking bench
while you take mouth, poosy, butthole much as you want. Come, tight on my
wrists the straps and locks and buckles to holding your obedients wife to your
bench.”
She looked up at me, her head twisted at an awkward angle because of the
bench. I took in the sight of her petite frame, her belly hanging low and huge
beneath the device. If she was taunting me, if I was hearing a lilt of sarcasm in her
voice, I could not be sure. All I could see was my submissive wife’s bubble butt
displayed and ready for me, her gorgeous, full belly heavy beneath her and also
available.
So I strapped her in. I attached her wrists and elbows, ankles and knees. I
stilled her head and strapped it into its slightly upright position, to ensure a smooth
entry into her mouth and throat.
She wiggled her wrists and thighs. “Tighter, Dominick, my husband. Tighter
to hold your wife Anneli in your small-open fucking bench. Tighter. I wants please
you very much as my poosy heats and widens and slips baby out.”
And so I tightened all the straps and buckles. She sighed and I stepped in
behind the Leon II and slid my dick, now rock-hard, into her dry pussy. She
47
moaned and whined and then actually shrieked to feel me push into her, her dry
flesh against my steely dick.
“Good, good Dominick. Using your obedients wife all wanting. Many cums.
Turn and have at belly, Dominick.”
Now I was almost — almost, but not quite — certain she was in her own way
ridiculing me. It was a slight flavoring to her words, a little rise and fall in the way
she spoke. But I could not be sure. I would turn her, and invade her butthole, and
stroke her belly as it rose up before me. That would let me know, definitely.
I turned the device and she rotated, shrieking in disturbed unsteadiness at the
helpless sensation. I spread both her legs using the rack and pinion arrangement I’d
devised. Now all that remained was to get my two hands under her ass cheeks and
spread them very slightly, to reveal and display that glorious, pink, bleached
asshole I wished to conquer yet again.
As with her pussy, she was dry. I pushed and she yielded, but the sensation
was not smooth or silky for my dick or her butthole. But I buried myself inside her
and moved my hands up onto her huge, rising belly.
“Deep inside, Dominick. Deep inside my small open for your handsome cock.
Deeper. Push all way inside, splurt cum if you wants. Cum inside me, Dominick.
It’s what you want to doing, Anneli knows. Anneli obedients.”
I looked down to see my dick running in and out of her, her fragile flesh
stretched paper-thin around my shaft as I plundered her. I felt my cum rising, as I
knew it would from this fast, rough use of my docile wife. As I unloaded two, then
five, then seven explosions of cum far up inside her, she shrieked once more and
exhaled a long and agonizing sound, a deep, raspy sound of exhaustion and pain.
I pulled my dick from her butthole and moved around to find her open,
accepting mouth. She must clean her husband’s dick, fresh from her butthole. She
must. She did.
Still racked and framed in Leon II, Anneli gazed up at me, licking her lips.
“You leaving obedients wife in bench, please, Dominick. Leaving me here three
48
hour. Tell farm hands, Anneli ready for mouth and small open to use. When you
come back, you using your obedients wife again, please.”
I stared down at her. I stared at her face, slippery and shining with spit and
cum and her own anal juices smeared across her immaculate flesh. I stared at her
gigantic, alluring belly and her fake tits, stiff and standing firm against gravity’s
pull. I stared at her svelte thighs slightly purpling from the bindings locking them
into Leon II.
I would go get the farm hands. I would even call some of my uncles and other
male relatives, to come have a look. And I would return to fuck her, to dominate
her, in a few hours.
But she had taken something from me. She had so utterly acquiesced into
becoming one with the anal bench that she offered no challenge. She not only did
not struggle against her bonds, she insisted on them being tighter. She not only did
not fight against me locking into Leon II, she led the way.
This was not my acquiescent cousin, demonstrating her submissiveness on my
daybed. This was not a circle of pregnant wives, humiliated into being splattered
with explosions of cum during a family gathering. This was my wife, and she
offered no resistance, no objection, to my command over her.
And there it was. She had underlined, boldfaced, and italicized my failure as a
dominant man in my family. I had not broken her. I had not shaped and molded her
to do what I wished even if it repulsed her. I had only opened new avenues to her,
new enticements of flesh and fluid and passion and promise.
As I leaned against one of the massive wood posts of the barn, watching two
farm hands spit roast her while another stroked himself to finish on her belly as she
lay helpless in Leon II, I felt myself shrink. Shrink in the eyes not only of Anneli
but everyone else. The many farm hands cheering one another on as they took
Anneli in her butthole and mouth. The male relatives who complimented me on the
construction of Leon II and their watching wives who said how lucky Anneli was
to be strapped into it.
49
As I watched one of my uncles — a man with a cock thicker than my wrist
and as long as a roofing hammer’s handle — run his cock swiftly and surely into
Anneli’s tormented butthole (his obedient wife standing beside Anneli with her
head bowed, holding onto my wife’s ass cheeks to spread them so her own
husband could fuck my wife’s butthole more easily), I resolved that Anneli would
know true dominance.
She would feel herself bend to my will, to some place far beneath her lowliest
imaginings. And she would feel it during her delivery.
It was this uncle’s wife who gave me the insight. I forced myself to glance
away from my uncle and his huge cock driving into my wife’s butthole. I forced
myself to glance at his wife, and I saw what I sought but could not find in Anneli:
that look of disgust and resigned defeat in her face.
She was holding my wife’s ass flesh in her hands, yes, and she was standing
meekly beside her husband as he plowed my wife’s ass, yes, but my uncle’s meek
wife had a look on her face that said she found the whole situation intolerably
distasteful.
She had the look of a woman who still stirred to imagine not standing in a
relative’s barn as her husband fucked another woman held in bondage. My uncle’s
wife had the look of someone who once hoped for more and now had to accept —
repeatedly, and humiliatingly — that she would never have more than this, never
be more than a subdued submissive forced to endure degrading experiences like
this.
And that was what I sought in Anneli. I wanted to ruin her, to wring some
disgust and revulsion still from her pure, sweet core.
She was innured to seeing nearly all the women around her naked and
exposed. She was accustomed to displaying her belly, her pussy, her tits and ass for
the clothed men in her surroundings.
She was accustomed to being pelted with cum, day in and day out. She never
voiced an objection to my orders.
She was obedient to my every command.
50
I wanted to take my impossibly beautiful Anneli, my compliant and obedient
Anneli, now round and full and heavy with that gigantic belly, and force a look of
disgust from her. Surely something still lay on the horizon, some unspeakable, vile
act that would scorch her and break through the docility. Surely.
But how to gain that inspiration without asking my male relatives such a
humbling question? No master of the family could dare to admit inadequacy.
Either we men of my family were men who took their wives as they wished, or
they were not men.
No, I could not ask my relatives. I could wrack my mind for memories of
humiliations heaped on the wives I had witnessed over the years. I could ask the
farm hands. I could ask Anneli.
No. No. And no. I had to think creatively.
And then I had it. What would Leon have done? Why had he sent the anal
bench back East? What had he gone on to do to his wife, his sex slave, his pregnant
property? Whatever he had done, it had been something for which an anal bench
was too easy, too noble.
What would Leon do?
As I went about my daily chores — overseeing the farm hands at their work,
desultarily fucking Anneli almost as an obligation, arranging the barn for Anneli’s
labor display — I thought and thought on it. I purposefully watched my cock ride
in and out of Anneli’s three open holes, or across her ballooning belly, or between
her fake tits. I watched, and considered, and weighed.
And then, with Leon whispering in my ear from across the years, with
Yesenia (his slave wife, his pregnant property) stirring my cock, and with Anneli
seeming to grow larger by the hour, I felt my plan fall into place.
I had no time to build anything. I had no money to order extravagances. For
all the land value of owning a farm, the margins are close, the debts constant. I am
a man of ordinary means, and over the past year the expense of bringing Anneli,
my mail order Norwegian submissive bride, to me destroyed my savings. No,
money, time, building were not the answer.
51
I gathered the antique full-length mirrors from the upstairs bedrooms — or
rather, I ordered my farm hands to move them to the barn. A few sheets of
plywood for a firm footing and they would stay secure, their spindly oak legs and
Victorian casters seeming to tip them at the slightest breeze.
A half circle of these around the anal bench, the head of the wooden bench
pointing toward the mirrors. Anneli’s anal bench would hold Anneli and allow her
to see herself, to see her stunning beauty on display and being used by me.
And used by other men, at my invitation.
And used by their wives, on the orders of their men.
No more rehearsals. She was not to see anything in the barn until she was
well and truly ready to deliver. The next time she saw her display area, she would
be in active labor, with no recourse to turn away or turn back.
farm hands answered my calls with relish, knowing they would, surely, be
part of the festivities. They very nearly emptied the basement dungeon of its
devices.
I spent perhaps an hour moving from home to barn all the video equipment
that had first introduced me to Anneli. I made no bluff to hide it. I set it up between
the middle two full-length mirrors, so its camera took in all of Anneli and the anal
bench, and the background festooned with the implements and sex toys fetched up
from the basement.
I tested the connections. All was in readiness. All that was needed now was
for Anneli to go into labor, a reality that seemed to become more and more certain
with each passing hour.
Anneli was so enormously pregnant, so obscenely displaying her belly full of
my cum and its result, that she could barely move 30 or 40 feet without wanting to
sit and rest. Her slight frame — those rail-thin legs and skinny arms — seemed an
afterthought to the bounty that was her massive tits and huge belly. I kept her slick
with oil throughout each day, so that her belly and tits glistened and glowed like
beacons for men’s cocks. My cock.
52
She answered my slightest wag of my finger or grunt eagerly, bringing her
bountiful tits and sumptuous belly near my cock to be blessed with yet another
blast of my hot, sticky, musky cum. She was redolent with my scent throughout
each day.
Anneli was obedient to my commands to display, heft, or offer her belly for
my pleasure. She became proficient in snaking a cloth tape measure around her
long-disappeared waist to inform me of her expanding girth, her belly seeming to
grow larger by the hour.
The daylight hours were a feast for my dick, with almost no farm work
offering a stronger pull for my attentions than Anneli’s curving figure. Everyone
understood. If I forgot to order a particular farm implement because I was, instead,
thrusting my dick between Anneli’s volleyball-sized tits for more than an hour,
nobody called out my error. They understood.
If I overlooked a trip to the bank for payroll, the farm hands may have been a
bit less understanding but were willing to wait until Monday if they could have
Anneli for themselves on the Sunday. That, of course, was a completely fair
arrangement, so long as I could trust them to leave her pussy alone.
Once back from the bank on the Monday, I inspected Anneli to ensure her
butthole was bruised and brimming with men’s cum. I had her splay her pussy lips
open to confirm she had no pools of cum dripping from her slit.
She offered no resistance to this inspection, performed in the open space
between the farm house and the barns, in front of the impatient farm hands. She
kept her head down and her voice quiet as I peered at her most intimate flesh.
“Dominick, the farming hands want their pay, sir. Please, inspect your Anneli
later. They used me very rough, many times in tiny hole, yes, but never in poosy.
Please, Dominick, pay your farm hands so Anneli can go back into house, please.”
I relished this. She was uncomfortable, something she had not been for some
time. I glanced up at the eyes of the farm hands, milling about and desperate for
their pay. To a man their pants were open, their cocks out and hardening. They
were a rough bunch, no doubt, but they kept their distance. I knew the bargain: if I
53
failed to give them the pay they deserved, they would take their vengeance out on
Anneli.
Anneli knew it, too. And this tension, this nervousness, was dick-hardening
ambrosia to me. I could only toy with her — and my farm hands — so long before
the moment had to pass.
And so I extracted one more humiliation from Anneli. I shoved my finger into
her butthole and pulled it out, hooklike, taking a considerable dollop of cum with
it. This I held at her thick, fake lips. And this I told her to lick, in front of the men.
“Just lick my finger clean, Anneli, and the men can be paid. They are waiting
for you, my sweet. Just lick the cum from your butthole off my finger and they can
all be paid. You really do not want to make them wait much longer, do you?”
Anneli squirmed. I had forced her to lick and suck the pussies of several
cousins, and to lick my own butthole. I had taught her to accept, if not enjoy, my
dick in her own butthole. But I had never paraded her shame in front of the farm
hands like this.
She glanced down and saw my own dick, so thick and rigid it seemed ready to
burst from its excitement. She glanced up at my eyes, peering into me with her
deep blue eyes and trying to suss me out. And then she leaned forward slightly,
taking my cum-covered, anal-smeared finger into her mouth.
She must have tasted her own ass on my finger, in addition to the salty cum of
whichever farmhand last used her. She wrinkled her nose very slightly and
coughed, but swallowed.
And so I paid the farm hands. And Anneli rushed back into the house, crying.
It was perfect.
Anneli was a distraction to all the men, clearly, but she was far more
distracting to me than to anyone else. Anneli was mine, magnificently, supremely,
pregnantly mine. Little more than two breadstick-thin legs barely able to support a
heaving, dick-hardening mound of curving flesh and capped by two balloon-like
tits. Always ready to take my dick in her thick-lipped mouth, her hormone-
54
throbbing pussy, or her tight butthole. Always ready to waddle off in search of her
pussy pump and my penis pump, to openly display her swollen, pumped pussy for
my amusement.
Each evening, I bathed and showered her, soaping her generously and sliding
my cock around on her sudsy belly. She stood, compliant with her arms at her sides
and her eyes fixed on me, moaning as I groped and penetrated her pussy and
butthole. She stayed still as I soaped both entrances so my dick could enter without
any unpleasant friction.
She sometimes knelt at my command to heft her tits around my cock, helping
me to slide between her cartoonishly huge tits even as warm water cascaded over
her. She sometimes turned away from me and bent forward, her huge belly
dropping and her tits hanging free for me to enjoy. She knew to expect my dick in
both her holes.
She whimpered only slightly at this humiliation, since she was tired and
worried about slipping in the tub as I ran my dick into her. But every evening she
turned, docile and humble, to allow me to fuck her butthole from behind and then
run my dick into her pussy. She leaned slightly, using one hand to steady herself on
the shower knobs and her other hand to spread one ass cheek so I could invade her
more easily.
Over successive days, she became even more cooperative in her own
degradation. She knew I enjoyed cumming all over her belly, even if my cock
throbbed to orgasm inside her butthole. So she tipped her head against the shower
wall to steady herself. This freed up her hand, though it of course forced her to
hold herself up using only her head. No matter — her hand was now free to feel
my balls, testing when I was about to cum. She reached back, struggling to get her
arm past her immense, pendulous belly. Her tiny fingers wrapped around my
heavy, full balls. When she felt them tightening, she would raise herself up and
turn, my dick sliding from her tight butthole. She tucked her belly up toward my
cock as it quivered and pulsed.
A single stroke or two with her soapy hand and I would spurt hot, white cum
all over her full, round belly. She stared up at me with those deep blue eyes,
55
questioning whether she had pleased me or not. Anytime she obeyed my spoken or
unspoken orders, she pleased me.
Her evening showers became less and less about getting her clean and more
about satisfying me.
As it should be.
Anneli was mine to use, even as the hours ticked down to her labor, even as
she prepared for bed and many hours of sleep interrupted by my incessant need to
fuck her.
Why the bathing? Oh, yes, of course it was about my dick, but there was
more. The oil. I wanted her to shine and glow from the oil during my daily uses,
but I did not want her to get clogged pores. I wanted her — needed her — skin to
be flawless for her performance — yes, it would be a performance — in the Leon
II anal bench.
And then an early morning brought the frenzy of labor and delivery into our
bedroom. Anneli woke to feel the distinct and sure signs that she was in labor. I
had her get off the bed, to stand on the floor in case her water broke. She was
accustomed to being naked at all times, so she simply stood, her legs slightly
parted, and stared down at her belly, hoping to see her own pussy. I think she
longed for the whole progression to move quickly. I did not.
I wanted to extract as much sexual pleasure as I could from these next few
hours. I made a quick call to start the phone chain, notifying my various male
relatives that their presence would be greatly appreciated, in the barn, with their
wives as we had previously discussed.
I scrambled downstairs and rang the large triangle hanging from the kitchen
entryway, to alert the farm hands that their work was about to be rewarded.
No matter what, Anneli could not go out to the barn until the crowd was
assembled. Her public humiliation would be at its most intense only if the farm
hands and my relatives were witnesses.
56
She stood very still listening as I made the call and then rang the loud metal
triangle. She did not dare move from her position until I told her to, which I did
once I returned upstairs. She would start on the front porch, with the sun just
creeping up over the horizon and casting long morning shadows across the front of
the house. That way, she could see the line of cars approaching, all to drive past
her slowly, along the side of the house, to park and allow everyone to make their
way into the barn.
I slipped away for just a few minutes, to make a few last connections needed
for the barn delivery. And then I checked on the barn itself. The gathered group
was quiet and some a bit bleary-eyed, but they were on hand. Several of the wives
sat demurely in collars at the feet of their husbands, their collars leading up to
leashes gripped by rough, country-worn hands.
A few of the pregnant wives were already busying themselves with their
chores, some of them encumbered by gentle touches provided by their husbands:
butt plugs, nipple clamps, an anal hook lashed upwards to a leather collar.
At last the final connection registered, and I went to fetch Anneli. I
encouraged everyone to line the short path from kitchen door to barn, so that she
could be properly displayed.
I used only a short switch, a freshly cut bit of hazel from our front yard. I used
it to guide Anneli ahead of me, her slight frame weaving left and right on the
concrete walk between home and barn. The ephemeral touches of the switch on her
ass kept her moving, though she was greatly distracted by the double line of men
and women all watching her.
Anneli struggled not to put her hands over her pussy and tits. She knew better
than to do this, but also knew she felt a keen sense of penetration, a feeling of
invasion by all the eyes upon her. I saw her turn her head from one side to another,
her lips pursing and her nose wrinkling very slightly. The dawn light outlined her
against the line of stiff cocks from my male relatives. Every so often down the line,
a helpful wife had her small hand around her husband’s cock, pumping him in
encouragement and appreciative of the excitement he felt at Anneli’s shame.
57
Halfway down the line, Anneli’s water did break. She spilled onto the
sidewalk, and though some of the farm hands tut-tutted her, several of the women
tried to take a helpful tone.
“That’s all right, love, you just keep walking. We’ll wash everything up good
and clean before you squeeze that baby out of your cunt.”
“No worries, Anneli! I spilled my waters all over three of my uncles.”
“Better to let it loose outside than in the house. It can saturate a floor,
sweetie.”
And down the line, the men moving closer to reach out and paw at her
massive tits, force her hand around their dicks, or slap her ass. My switch still fell
in light, tickling blows that scarcely left more than a few red welts. This
introduction to the barn was nothing compared to what she faced inside.
The farm hands had arranged a series of chairs on platforms, almost like risers
for a church choir, behind the full-length mirrors. These platforms were deep,
leaving clear aisles for folks to move into the seats in comfort.
The seats behind the anal bench were necessarily sparse; they had to leave
room for the several cameras already set up and running.
Borrowed from relatives, five computer screens nestled on the ground
between the full-length mirrors. They provided images of the feed, from cameras
ringing behind and in front of Leon II, the anal bench I’d built. The feed right now
showed only Leon II, and the background of cameras, straw, and the barn wall. The
monitor directly in front of Leon II, the screen that would be in Anneli’s sight,
showed something slightly different.
The men moved in and took their chairs, pointing or grunting to the spots in
front of them on the platforms. Their wives, even the pregnant ones, took their
spots at their husbands’ feet. One or two had to wait for their husbands to adjust
whatever small torments were in place: tightening the nipple clamps, adding
clothes pins to a tongue.
58
I pointed past Anneli’s shoulder to guide her toward the anal bench. She took
in the sight of the mirrors, the farm hands (most of whom chose to stand behind the
bench, between and behind the many cameras), and the guests. She took in the
Leon II, raised slightly off the barn floor by a low dais.
And then, as she moved closer to the Leon II, to the familiar grip of its arm
shackles and ankle cuffs, she glanced at the computer screens. And she stopped,
her eyes wide in surprise. Fear. Shame.
This was it. This was what I sought from her. She began quivering, shaking
uncontrollably and turning to escape our barn. But I was there, my strong,
comforting arms around her. I stood her in front of Leon II, facing the monitor and
camera central to the display.
Anneli at first tried to raise her arms to cover herself, but months of training
took over, and she held her arms rigid at her side. Her belly was so supremely
engorged, so completely round, it seemed to be far in front of her, nearly filling the
screen of the monitors. But she was not concerned with what was visible about her.
She was mortified to see her parents on the monitor.
They exchanged brief greetings in Norwegian, with my abilities so limited I
could only pick out a few words.
And then she spoke rapidly, waving her arms around her and stepping aside to
show her parents the anal bench. She seemed to be explaining everything, lifting
and flapping the leather straps, turning the handle that would soon rotate her and
allow her to be used by anyone around her. Tears streamed down her face as she
spoke, her words choking in her throat.
And then, in English, she looked up at me and said, “Why, Dominick? Your
Anneli is doing all you ask. My belly grows big for you, my poosy full of your
cum and only your cum. I learning customs of your family, I letting your cousins
put lips on my poosy, I opening small open for your cock. Why this? Why Mamma
og Pappa?”
59
The tears were pouring from her eyes as he spoke, and her nose was
wrinkling. I saw the tiny fists form and then unfurl. She closed her eyes, her head
shaking in silent sobs.
She opened her eyes and stared, wild-eyed, around her. And then her father
spoke through the connection. He spoke quickly, but with a lilt to his voice that did
not signal distress or anger.
Anneli stared at the screen.
“What did he say? Anneli, what did your father say?”
She stared, her thick lips trembling. A wave of pain coursed over her, a
contraction hitting her. She bent forward and straightened up, breathing hard.
“He said he wants me to get in the bench. He said I am to do what my
husband orders.”
I smiled. I stared at her. She swiveled her head around, taking in the farm
hands, their mighty cocks rigid and strong and pointing toward her. She took in the
rows of men seated with their wives curled at their feet. And she stared again at the
screen showing her mother and father.
A quick exchange. And then Anneli, her nose wrinkling in disgust and her
shoulders heaving from more silent crying, moved toward Leon II and placed
herself in the armatures. Two farm hands and a pregnant cousin moved in swiftly
to lock her in place.
“He said. Dominick, my father said.” She struggled as she felt the leather
straps and metal cuffs tighten. “My father said I am yours to use as you wish. He
says I am to be prouds to be your wife.”
“Are you, Anneli? Are you proud to be my wife?” I stepped forward, my dick
hovering inches from her face. Since I was now blocking her parents’ view of their
daughter, I motioned for a farmhand to switch the feed. A flicker and then the
image was sideways, with Anneli strapped into Leon II and her beautiful, gigantic
belly dropping down into the open space beneath the frame.
60
And to the right of the feed, my dick, an inch or so from Anneli’s plump lips.
I could reach down and, with the farmhand carefully zooming out, her parents
could see me fondle and slap her inflated, gargantuan tits. They saw this as my
dick slid into their daughter’s mouth.
I could hear Anneli’s father, seven hours further into his day than his
daughter, groan in fascinated excitement. I heard her mother suck in air and then
the sound of a zipper. Anneli could see nothing of this, but heard it all. The sound
of her own mother going down on her father’s cock, excited to stiffness from the
sight of his pregnant daughter strapped into Leon II, ready to be abused and
dominated during her delivery.
I pulled my dick from my wife’s mouth and gave her time to catch her breath.
I also expected an answer.
“Yes, Dominick. I am prouds to be your wife, mother of your baby, holes for
your cock. But this, this is so much, Dominick. This —”
Her words were cut off by my dick slamming hard into her mouth again. I
shoved in and out for a few moments, then pulled away.
“Why you doing this to your wife, Dominick? I having baby this morning, I
opening poosy and letting baby slip out. No more big belly, no more fucking all
night. Raising baby.”
“Why, Anneli? You have answered this many times. You. Are. My. Wife.
You are mine, and I will use you as I wish to use you. Do you understand?”
I heard a murmur of assent from the men on the risers behind me. I heard a
restless commotion among the farm hands. And from the pregnant cousin standing
beside Anneli, I smelled the distinct aroma of her excited pussy gushing with
submissive, yielding juices.
Anneli wrinkled her nose at me. I stepped aside, making to move around to
her other end. She saw her parents — she saw her father, with her mother’s head
bobbing up and down over his shaft just below the camera’s frame — and saw the
vast collection of eager men before her.
61
“I understand, Dominick. I am not liking any of this, I am hatings this. I do it
for you, Dominick. Because you commands me. I do it for my husband.”
“I hope, Anneli, you never come to like all that I do with you. Look around.
You think all the wives, pregnant and otherwise, really enjoy all that their
husbands make them do? Of course not. You are not supposed to like it. You are
just supposed to take it.”
And with that, I slid my dick into her tight, unlubricated butthole. She
squealed and felt another strong contraction move through her. It meant a stronger
grip around my dick. I rode her pain and then began pumping hard into her. On the
screen before her, she watched in horror-filled fascination as her father exploded
into her mother’s mouth, the sounds of her mother gagging amplified for all in the
barn to hear.
Another quick exchange in Norwegian, father to daughter. I ordered Anneli,
my dick deep in her ass and my hands moving freely over her belly, to tell me what
was said.
“I tell my father he should not look, his daughter being sexual slut to
husband.” She breathed hard, feeling my dick work further into her butthole and
feeling our baby roil her belly.
“And he say, I very good camera whore. He say he watch manys video and I
among best. He want see other mens using Anneli, and Leon II turning so he can
see my big, fake tits.”
Several of the men in the risers needed no further encouragement. They
stepped down just as the pregnant cousin turned the crank that rotated Anneli in the
Leon II, turning her around my dick as I stayed deep inside her. It was a sensation I
thrilled to feel, and one that put me over the edge for the first time that morning. I
flooded her tight butthole with cum.
Laughter and moans began to echo in the barn as a ring of men and
submissive wives stepped in to fondle, tease, and torment Anneli. They stepped
aside every now and then so her parents could see her humiliation afresh.
62
And then, as several of the pregnant wives moved in closer and took more and
more control of the rising crisis, Anneli went into active labor. No one suggested
loosening her bonds; she would let her burden slip from her pussy with arms and
legs firmly locked in place. She would spill her charge with someone’s cock deep
in her asshole, and another in her mouth. And everyone around her would sigh and
laugh and encourage, including her mother and father so distant and yet so close.
And when the moment came, and it was my dick working its way into her
throat and spurting yet another load of cum, the entire barnful of men and women
cheered. One of my pregnant cousins carefully showed Anneli’s parents their new
grandson, then gave Anneli a quick peek before spiriting the child away to the safe,
warm and quiet confines of my house.
Anneli rattled her arm shackles, confused.
“Now, Dominick, I serving you all time in labors, open, swallowing cum,
feeling dicks in poosy and small open. Now I get out, yes?”
I turned to the monitor, still displaying Anneli’s parents. I raised my
eyebrows in a universal questioning gesture.
Her father spoke, his voice bubbling with elation. I could see him reaching for
his wife, peeling away her clothes in their home on the other side of the planet.
And then the feed ended.
“What did he say?” I asked my wife, her wrists still tight in the anal bench.
“What did your wise father say just before he fucked your mother?”
“He say everyone taking one more turn with his daughter, because in two
hours, three hours, I am only for taking care of baby. No more fuckings with all
these men and women. He say everyone having go at dominating his Anneli, now
Dominick’s Anneli.”
“Well, we can’t disobey your Pappa, can we?” I said, slapping my hard cock
against her face as I spoke.
Anneli wrinkled her nose and sighed and sneered slightly. She was
completely, utterly humiliated. “No, Dominick, we cannot disobey Pappa. I am
63
opens for more dicks, Dominick. Use your Anneli. Use your wife. Dominate your
Anneli.”
The End
64
Other Novels
www.LotsCave.com
The Truth Click Here

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My Peeping Mom Click Here
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Pussycat Smile Click Here
Lot’s Cave ~ Publishers of Incest Erotica ~ Lot’s Cave

Family Exotica
If you enjoyed this erotic tale and haven’t read Kathy Andrews’ stimulating
story, ‘Mom’s Horny Bargain’ it’s available now at Lot’s Cave, your family
exotica eBook source. The story features Mom taking her son's hand, she
drawing it underneath her skirt and, opening her thighs to place it on her
hairy cunt…!”
Kathy Andrews MOM’S HORNY BARGAIN

Available from Lot’s Cave
(Description)
When Peggy discovers her son has an endless craving for sex, things get hot
fast. But his interest in the cute girl next door is an intolerable competition. Peggy
conspires to teach her son the deeper pleasures of the most depraved and
adventurous sex! What kinky acts can this incestuous mother indulge in that will
persuade her horny son only Mom can provide him the sexual bargain of a
lifetime? What about those nasty neighbors?

(Excerpt)
Now, with her son's eyes unabashedly gazing at her upturned ass, Peggy
watched his expression closely. She tried to sit up, but her arms would not push
and her thigh muscles didn't want to work. Since she had been thinking of erotic
exercises and her cunt had been steamy, her gaze drifted downward, seeing the
growing bulge in the front of his pants.
She felt a catch in her throat as she understood it was her, her ass and thighs,
that was giving him this growing, hard-on. She wondered if it was possible that
Donny was interested in her, his own mother, that way. If the swelling lump in his
pants was any indication, she knew he was interested, very much so.
For just an instant, she felt humiliation, but it was such a fleeting instant that
she let it go. It was replaced by a sense of elation, of pleasure. She felt a pulsation
between her thighs, the tingle of her cunt becoming more pronounced.
This is silly, she thought. Waving my fucking ass in the Goddamn air and
letting my son look all he wants and me… staring right at his cock. Silly… but
kind of nice, too.
Donny never took his gaze from his mother's ass. He could see the slight
puffing of her panty crotch. Finally he shifted his eyes and was looking directly
into those of his brother. He grinned wickedly, and Peggy gasped when he ran his
hand down and cupped his cock and balls, giving his prick a squeeze.
“Donny!” she said sharply, finding the strength to sit on her heels. “What are
you doing, young man?”
He ignored his mother and arched his hips forward, his hand still cupping his
cock and balls. “Want some, Mother?” he said boldly, then laughed.
“Donny!” Peggy gasped, but her eyes burning as she watched him squeezing
his cock and balls.
Knowing she should be angry with him, she found that impossible. On the
contrary, watching him so openly fondle himself excited her more than she would
have suspected.
If your amazing MILF mom offered to give you all the sex you want
provided you stop fucking with girls at school, would you…? Read
‘Mom’s Horny Bargain’, available now at www.LotsCave.com.

Incest Erotica
If you enjoyed reading this erotic story and would like to know more about
mothers and sons who break the incest taboo, then don’t miss Kathy
Andrew’s tale of ‘Harder! Mom Said’. It’s available now at Lot’s Cave, your
family exotica eBook source. The story features Mom who “obeyed her son
like a robot. The feeling of shame went deep as she pulled her shoulders
back, arching her tits outward, her nipples rigid...!”
Kathy Andrew’s HARDER! MOM SAID

Available at Lot’s Cave
(Description)
The seething passions that lurk within many mothers are often hidden beneath
veneers of normalcy, exposed only under extremely tempting conditions. What can
a son do to sufficiently tempt his mom? What mechanisms must a son employ to
trigger his mother's seething taboo passions sufficiently to allow him the forbidden
sexual access he craves? His method, though incestuous, may well be considered
unusual or shocking, but is nonetheless successful.

(Excerpt)
“Joey, do you have a sister?” she asked.
He turned dark in color and didn't say anything. Sabrina knew then. She
laughed—a low, husky, erotic sound.
“That's nice, Joey,” she whispered throatily, “to have a sister who loves to
suck your cock.”
She twisted about until she had her head resting on her son's thighs. She drew
his cock close to her face, nuzzling it at her cheek, looking at Joey. “I suck my
son's cock all the time, Joey. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. If your
sister enjoys sucking you and you like it, don't be ashamed.”
“I'm not supposed to tell, that's all,” Joey said.
“You didn't tell, honey,” she soothed, then turned her mouth to Brien's cock
and rubbed the dripping piss hole about her lips. “You didn't tell us anything. I just
guessed.”
Sabrina ran her tongue along the hard shaft of her son's cock, feeling it hot on
the flat surface. She twisted it about the smoothly swollen head, her eyes burning
into Joey's. It gave her a thrill to be seen licking at her son's cock and the
knowledge that this boy's sister was sucking him off sent ripples of excitement
through her. Lying on her back, her head turned toward her son's cock, Sabrina
spread her legs wide. She ran her tongue about her son's cock eagerly but keeping
her burning eyes on Joey. She moved a hand down her flat stomach and rubbed at
her wet cunt. Taking her son's cock between her lips, she sucked at the head for a
moment or so, then pulled off.
“Joey, eat my pussy,” she said softly but urgently, lifting her crotch up. “Lick
my cunt, Joey. My pussy is so hairy and wet and hot and it loves to get licked. You
suck my cunt, Joey and I'll suck your cock off.”
Sabrina giggled as the boy hurriedly moved between her thighs, knowing this
would not bet the first time he tongued a cunt. Perhaps he was tongue-fucking his
sister while she sucked on his prick. She arched her crotch up…
If you could get away with blackmailing your hot mom into anything
you wanted, what would you…? Read ‘Harder! Mom Said’, available at
www.LotsCave.com now!

Author’s Note
Mike relishes the simple and beautiful things in life, like tightly tied breasts,
French vanilla ice cream cones, submissive women, and daydreaming.
He has written passionately about anal sex, curvy sex slaves, pregnancy
fetish, degradation, humiliation, interracial sex, and BDSM.
Few of us have castles, unless they are in the sky. Mike hopes erotic literature
can bring those castles down to earth, update them to condos and ranch houses, and
make us all appreciate the simple, beautiful things again.
Look for all of my hot and erotic eBooks, available now at

www.LotsCave.com, the publisher of controversially taboo erotica.
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All Characters In This Book Are Age 18 Or Older

A Lot’s Cave Novel

The Truth Click Here

Lot’s Cave ~ Publishers of Incest Erotica ~ Lot’s Cave

Kathy Andrews MOM’S HORNY BARGAIN

Lot’s Cave ~ Publishers of Incest Erotica ~ Lot’s Cave

Lot’s Cave ~ Publishers of Incest Erotica ~ Lot’s Cave

Kathy Andrew’s HARDER! MOM SAID

Lot’s Cave ~ Publishers of Incest Erotica ~ Lot’s Cave

Lot’s Cave ~ Publishers of Incest Erotica ~ Lot’s Cave

Look for all of my hot and erotic eBooks, available now at

Lot’s Cave ~ Publishers of Incest Erotica ~ Lot’s Cave

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