2. Roman #2
"Please," she whispers. "Please don't send me to jail."
Dad circles her slowly, predatory and assessing. "We're not going to turn you in, little girl. But you will submit to us. Both of us. Completely."
Her throat works on a swallow. "Both?"
"Yes." Dad stops directly in front of her, towering over her petite frame. "Roman and I will take responsibility for you. We'll care for you, protect you, provide for your brother. But in return, you belong to us."
"That's—" Her voice catches. "You can't be serious."
"Can't I?" Dad's hand lifts with deliberate slowness, fingers trailing like a whisper along the delicate curve of her shoulder, tracing the elegant line down over her prominent collarbone.
His touch is almost reverent, exploratory in a way that makes my own hands itch to follow the same path, and Rue's breath hitches audibly in the charged silence of the dungeon.
The sound is sharp, startled, echoing off the stone walls.
"Your body doesn't seem to think this is a bad idea. "
His calloused fingers drift lower with torturous precision, skating across the generous swell of her breast with the barest whisper of contact.
Rue gasps, the sound punched out of her like he's physically stolen the air from her lungs, and I watch in dark fascination as milk immediately beads at her dusky pink nipple, responding to even that minimal stimulation.
A pearly drop slides down the full curve of her breast in a slow, mesmerizing trail before Dad catches it with the pad of his thumb, smearing the wetness across her flushed skin.
"See?" His voice is pure velvet wrapped around steel. "Your body is already responding to us, already preparing itself. Already accepting what your mind is fighting."
"I'm just—it's hormones, I can't—" Rue's protest dies when Dad's hand slides lower, over the soft plane of her stomach, down between her thighs.
My cock hardens instantly, as I watch his thick fingers part her folds. Even from here I can see the shine of arousal coating her inner thighs, the way her hips jerk forward involuntarily when he touches her.
"You're soaked." Dad's thumb finds her clit, circling it with deliberate pressure. "Don't tell me you're not attracted to us when your pussy is this wet, little girl."
"Oh god—" Rue's head falls back, chains rattling as her body arches. More milk streams from her nipples, and I have to grip the edge of the nearby table to keep from crossing the space and putting my mouth on her again.
Dad increases the pressure, rubbing her clit in slow, maddening circles. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you want both of us to teach you, to give you pleasure like your body is begging for."
"I—please—" Rue moans, the sound raw and desperate, her hips rolling against his hand. "I can't, I?—"
"Can't what?" Dad's other hand cups her breast, thumb brushing over her leaking nipple. "Can't admit how good this feels?"
"No!" Rue's eyes fly open, glazed with arousal but panic sharpening her features. "I mean yes, but—I'm fertile. I'm ovulating right now, I can feel it. If you—if we—I'll get pregnant!"
The words slam into me like a fist.
Pregnant.
Round with our child. Full breasts leaking constantly. Soft and swollen and ours.
My cock throbs so hard I nearly double over.
Dad's fingers still against her clit for half a second before resuming their torment, faster now, more demanding. "Is that supposed to discourage us?"
"What?" Rue's voice pitches high, breathless. "You can't—that's insane?—"
"That just makes it better." Dad leans in close, his mouth inches from her ear. "The thought of you carrying our child, your body changing because of what we do to you. That's not a problem, little girl. That's a promise."
I close the distance between us, drawn by the desperate sounds spilling from her throat. My hands find her hips, fingers digging into soft flesh, and I lean in to catch her earlobe between my teeth.
"God, you're perfect like this." My voice comes out rough against her skin. I bite down gently, tugging, and she whimpers. "Dripping milk. Fertile. Your body is begging us to fill you up."
"Please—" The word breaks on a moan as Dad's fingers work her clit faster.
I kiss down the column of her throat, tasting salt and fear and arousal all mixed together.
"I love that you're like this for us. Milky and ripe and ready to be bred.
" My palm slides up her ribcage to cup her heavy breast, feeling the warmth and weight of it.
"These perfect tits are going to stay full for us. We'll make sure of it."
Milk streams over my fingers, hot and sweet-smelling, and Rue's entire body shudders between us.
"That's it, little girl." Dad's thumb presses harder, circling relentlessly. "Stop fighting what your body already knows it wants."
Her hips roll against his hand, chasing friction, and I can feel the moment her resistance starts to crumble. The way her breathing changes, gets deeper, more desperate. The way her spine arches and her head falls back against my shoulder.
"We're going to take such good care of you." I nip at her pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. "Feed you, protect you, fuck you until you can't remember your own name. Until the only words you know are 'daddy' and 'yes' and 'please.'"
"Oh god, oh god—" Rue's voice pitches higher, thighs trembling.
Dad increases the pressure on her clit, his other hand joining mine on her breast, and we work her together—him between her legs, me at her chest, both of us touching and teasing and claiming every inch of her responsive body.
"You want this." Dad's voice drops into pure command.
"You want us to teach you, to give you pleasure, to make you ours completely.
All you have to do is say yes, little girl.
Say yes and you'll be ours. Say yes and we'll give you relief.
Say yes and you'll never have to worry about anything ever again. "
Rue's breath comes in sharp gasps, her whole body wound tight and trembling on the edge.
"Say it." I bite down on her ear again, harder this time. "Say yes and we'll make you come so hard you forget your own name. Say yes and we'll fill this fertile little pussy with our cum until you're round and swollen and full of our baby."
"Yes!" The word rips out of her on a sob. "Yes, please, I want—I need?—"
"Good girl." Dad's approval rumbles through his chest.