One of the things I've come to understand about being a Breeding Supervisor is that it isn't just about getting your girls pregnant. As long as they're still working on their quotas, whether they're breeders or wives, they're your property. Like any other property, they need to be managed. I won't try and tell you that having my own handful of fertile women isn't fun, but it's a farm, not a harem. They're like any other livestock: they take work. Right now, my household has my wife, Amanda, Amanda's niece - she used to be called Josie, but we changed her name recently - and Ginger.
Ginger was a shelter puppy, so to speak. Her original supervisor meant well, but he wasn't ready for long-term commitment, and when Ginger drew a high number, he knew he wasn't going to be able to handle the volume, so he surrendered her. There are men who say that sometimes the breeder chooses you. I always thought that was dangerous bullshit. Females need strong men to keep them in their places. That's for their own safety and it's a responsibility men have to their communities. But damn if I didn't understand it when I saw Ginger the first time. I had thought I would just take a quick stroll through the tent the local breeder shelter had set up outside the grocery store, and enliven my Saturday errands by looking. Her red curls and the dusting of freckles on her pretty little tits were too much to resist. She was wearing a shackle and a tag that read "Annie - quota 11," and I knew I just had to take her home. I had her registered under my name and loaded in the truck before the ice cream had time to melt.
So now, we're a production facility. Amanda has a quota of three. I've promised her that the only babies of mine in our house will be hers. Her niece has the highest quota, at fifteen. Those will have to be carefully managed. Who knows if she'll ever finish. Ginger is in the middle. That's a commitment of twenty-nine. Undoubtedly, some of those will be girls who have babies before they're placed out (a successful pregnancy is a high school graduation requirement for girls around here), and I'll be responsible for those, too, and for any babies they have before they're taken in hand by another man. I'm looking forward to all that - it's a man's calling, one I feel strongly - but I'm not looking to bring home any more breeders right now.
Owning a girl means a lot of things, and one of them is managing her sexuality so that she can best fulfill her purpose. My wife, Mandy, her purpose is to belong to me. Mandy has a naturally deeply submissive nature, but it's important for a man to not be too easy for a girl to please, or she won't value his rewards! Strict discipline makes Amanda blossom into an eager pain slut. She can count on being ordered to please me every day, frequent punishment (she wants it most when her behavior is flawless), and an orgasm every week or so. I'm not knocking her up yet. With such a low quota on her, I can take my time. She gets better at pleasing and serving me every day.
I want Ginger to be sexually focussed on breeding. The only orgasms she gets are going to be from a cock in her cunt, so in the four months she's been in our house, she hasn't had any. Result? One desperate redhead. Just like dogs are more obedient when they're hungry, breeders are most eager to please when they're horny, and Ginger is so horny she can barely see straight. I ordered her to walk a straight line last night, just for fun - she got distracted by Mandy rubbing my cock through my pants and almost fell over. I'm keeping her in a chastity belt until her next checkup. It's traditional for a breeder to not know who her first baby's father is, so once the doctor tells me she's at peak fertility, I'm taking her to the truck stop on the county line and telling her to beg the guys there to use her. I would bet good money that she gets cuntfucked by at least a dozen of them, and cums ten or fifteen times. In the meantime, she's a useful and obedient girl. She takes orders from me like they're religion, and she's eager to learn everything she can from Amanda. Friends and neighbors stop by often for her blowjobs, which I can testify are amazing. Ginger tells me that sucking cock is the only thing keeping her sane until I let her fuck. I'm going to make sure that the supply runs low for her for a few days before that trip to the county line. It's mean to Ginger, sure, but it'll be a great show to watch.
Mandy and Ginger are good girls who crave a strong hand. My other breeder is a brat who needs one. Her first epic tantrum was the night after she drew her quota. That first night, after leaving her to think about her behavior for an hour or so, I went back to the breeder dorm. Since she was screaming names at me (it is absolutely not abuse for a supervisor to stand his breeder in a corner!), I started by yanking her panties the rest of the way off and shoving them in her mouth. Then I unclipped her collar from the wall and turned her over my knee to whip her with my belt (also not abuse - it hurt her plenty but didn't leave permanent damage). I left her face down on the bed, with her black and blue bottom in the air and her arms still tied. I hoped that the one whipping would reform her.
Unfortunately, that was far from her last outburst. She cried the next morning, when I wouldn't give her a cushion to sit on at breakfast. In my house, breeders who can't sit at the table get a bowl of Fertility Chow on the floor. Amanda told her she couldn't use her hands to eat, as punishment for misbehaving at mealtime. Her fits about her quota were nothing to the fit she threw when I told her I wasn't going to breed her myself. For a girl who thought of herself as smart, she sure was dumb - fifteen babies with the exact same parents would be one hell of a waste of genetic diversity (although, don't get me wrong, if that had been Amanda's number, I'd have started her towards it that night). "Hurricane Josie", as we called her at the time, had to be stopped, and the mooing groans she made when I shoved a pair of panties in her mouth and whipped her ass gave me some ideas.
Like I said, it's a supervisor's responsibility to focus a breeder's sexuality where it will do the most good. I hit up the feed store for some supplies. I started putting breast growth supplements in her Fertility Chow right away (she kept earning herself whippings, so she was nowhere near back to sitting at the table), and planned to start the next step the next time she earned punishment. I didn't have to wait very long.
"Aunt Mandy, am I pregnant?" She demanded.
I had been waiting for her to notice. I stood up from my place at the table. "Took you long enough," I said calmly. "I had you inseminated at your checkup four months ago."
"I thought I was going to get to have SEX!" she wailed.