His come leaking down my thighs

Chapter 8

The cool stone bit into my back as I lay spread across the archive floor, the old tasting notebooks fanned beneath my hips like a bed of paper dust. I held my knees behind my knees, my cunt open to the dim light, and I felt the slick of my own wanting running down my ass crack.

“Daddy,” I whispered. “I want the breeding ritual.”

He stood over me, his palm already sealed flat over my soaked cunt, the heel of his hand grinding against my c**t. He didn’t move his fingers inside me. He just held me there, his weight pressing my thighs apart, and I felt the heat of his hand like a brand.

“This crosses too far,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You’ll carry my child, girl.”

“I know,” I said, and I arched my hips up into his palm. “That’s what I’m asking for.”

He shook his head, but I saw the hunger in his eyes. “Say exactly what you want.”

I felt the words tear out of me, raw and shameless. “I want you to fill my womb, Daddy. I want your seed planted deep inside me. I want to be your finished wheel, inoculated and sealed.”

He went still. The only sound was the buzz of the cave intercom speaker above our heads and the wet sound of my cunt against his palm as I ground into him.

“From now on,” I said, my voice shaking, “I ask, you fill.”

His breath caught. He reached for the sulfur wash sprayer on the shelf beside him, the sharp chemical smell cutting through the musty paper dust. He sprayed the air around my thighs, the fine mist settling on my skin, and I felt the sharp sting of ammonium on my cunt. I flinched, spreading my legs wider.

“Preparing the rind for inoculation,” he said, his voice a growl. “Hold still.”

The cold mist clung to my thighs, and I felt the goosebumps rise along my skin. He set the sprayer down and grabbed my ankles, pinning them behind my neck. My hips tilted up, my cunt open and exposed, and I felt the cool air on my wet flesh.

He pressed the head of his c**k against my entrance, and I felt the blunt heat of him, slick with my cream. I held my breath.

“Look at me,” he said. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Daddy,” I sobbed. “Fill me. Make me yours forever.”

He pushed inside me in one thick stroke, and I felt my inner walls stretch around him, the ring of muscle clenching as he sank deeper. I felt the ridge of his c**k drag over the rough spot inside me, and I cried out, my toes curling.

“Your cunt is gripping me like it knows what’s coming,” he said, his voice rough. “Like it’s begging for my seed.”

He pulled out slowly, his shaft dragging against my inner walls, and I felt every inch of him leaving me empty. Then he drove back in, his hips slapping against mine with a wet, rhythmic sound. The creak of the archive shelves echoed around us, mixing with the wet squelch of his c**k sliding in and out of my cunt.

“Yes, Daddy,” I moaned. “Deeper. Please.”

He pinned my ankles harder behind my neck, folding me nearly in half, and I felt the head of his c**k press against my cervix. The pressure built in my belly, hot and urgent, and I felt my inner walls flutter around him.

“Your body knows,” he said, his thumb finding my c**t. “It’s been waiting for this. Your womb is clenching around me like it wants to pull my seed deep.”

I felt my own cream coating his shaft, thick and slick, and I heard the wet sound of it with every stroke. The smell of hot sweat and paper dust filled my nose, mixed with the sharp ammonium sting still lingering on my thighs.

“Please, Daddy,” I begged. “Fill me. Breed me.”

He drove into me hard, his hips slamming against mine, and I felt the pressure build to a breaking point. My inner walls clenched around him, my c**t throbbing against his thumb, and I felt the orgasm crash over me in a wave of heat.

The first contraction started deep in my belly, a sharp pulse that spread through my inner walls, pulling him deeper. The heat traveled down my thighs, up my spine, and I felt my toes curl, my back arching off the stone floor. My vision blurred, my breath caught in my throat, and I heard my own sharp cry echo off the walls.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Take it. Take all of it.”

He drove in one last time and held, his c**k pulsing deep inside me. I felt the hot flood of his come hitting my cervix, thick and warm, spreading through my inner walls. I felt my womb clench around the seed, trying to hold it in.

He pulled out slowly, and I felt his come start to leak out of my stuffed cunt. He clamped his palm over my entrance, sealing it shut, and I felt the pressure of his hand holding every drop inside me.

“Stay still,” he commanded. “Don’t let a drop escape.”

I felt his come pooling inside me, warm and thick, pressing against my cervix. I felt my womb clench around it, trying to keep it deep. The pressure was intense, a full ache in my belly, and I felt my inner walls flutter around the seed.

Then the intercom speaker above our heads crackled with static.

“Bruno?” Mona’s voice came through, tinny and distant. “I need you to confirm the camera timestamp gap from yesterday.”

I froze. The fear shot through me like ice, and I felt my cunt clench around his seed, the pressure building. I felt my skin’s sensitivity double, every nerve alive, and I felt the urge to clamp my thighs shut fighting the need to stay still.

Bruno’s hand stayed clamped over my cunt, his palm sealed tight. He reached up with his other hand and pressed the intercom button.

“I was checking humidity,” he said, his voice calm. “The hygrometer was off.”

The intercom clicked. I heard the static crackle again, and I felt his c**k harden inside me, still buried deep.

“The gap was ninety minutes,” Mona said. “That doesn’t add up.”

I felt his thumb press against my c**t, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning. The fear made everything sharper—the pressure of his hand on my cunt, the heat of his come inside me, the cold air on my ankles as I trembled around his neck.

“The reserve batch needed a full wash,” he said, his voice steady. “I was rotating the wheels.”

The intercom clicked again. I heard the sound of her breathing on the other end, and I felt my walls clench around his c**k, the fear making me wetter.

“Fine,” she said, her voice clipped. “But I’m doing a camera-log audit before the festival. Two weeks of night shifts booked.”

The intercom went dead.

Bruno’s hand stayed sealed over my cunt. I felt his c**k pulse inside me, still hard, and I felt the pressure of his come trapped against my cervix.

“She’s gone,” I whispered. “Daddy, please. I need you again.”

He turned me onto all fours among the notebooks, my hands sinking into the paper dust. I felt his c**k slide out of me, his palm still clamped over my cunt, and I felt the seed sloshing inside me, hot and thick.

“Hold it in,” he commanded. “Don’t you dare let a drop out.”

I felt my inner walls clench around the seed, trying to keep it deep. He grabbed my hips and drove his c**k back into me from behind, the blunt head pressing deep, and I felt the stretch of my entrance around him.

“Your cunt is so full,” he said, his voice rough. “So stuffed with my seed. And you still want more.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I sobbed. “Use me. Fill me again.”

He thrust into me hard, his hips slapping against my ass with a wet, rhythmic sound. I felt his c**k drag against my inner walls, the ridge hitting the rough spot with every stroke. The paper dust rose around us, tickling my nose, and I felt the sweat drip down my spine.

“Look at you,” he said, his hand leaving my cunt to grab my hip. “On all fours in my archive, begging for my seed. Your body is a traitor, girl. It wants this more than you do.”

“I know,” I moaned. “I’m yours. All of me is yours.”

He drove into me deep and held, his c**k pulsing inside me. I felt the second flood of his come hitting my cervix, hot and thick, mixing with the first load. My womb clenched around it, the pressure building to a breaking point.

I felt the orgasm crash over me, the first contraction starting deep in my belly and spreading through my inner walls. The heat traveled down my thighs, up my spine, and I felt my toes curl, my vision blurring. I heard my own sharp cry echo off the stone walls.

He pulled out and clamped his palm over my cunt again, sealing the second load inside. I felt his come pooling against his hand, thick and warm, and I felt my womb clench around it, trying to keep every drop.

“Stay still,” he said, his voice a growl. “Hold it in. All night.”

I felt the pressure of his hand holding me closed, the heat of his seed trapped inside me. I felt my inner walls flutter around the fullness, my c**t throbbing against his palm.

“I feel full,” I whispered, my hand pressing against my lower belly. “So full, Daddy.”

He leaned down and kissed me, and I tasted the metallic dust of the intercom button on his lips. The smell of his come and the ammonium wash lingered in the air, mixed with the paper dust and hot sweat.

He pulled back and reached for a paper tag from the shelf. He wrote something on it with his tasting pencil and slipped it onto the shelf beside us.

“Inoculated: Festival Year,” he said.

I felt his seed held inside me, warm and thick, and I knew the truth. I was his now. His finished wheel. His reserve batch.

And in the morning, I would still feel him inside me.