Sorority 8 Bred

It's less than a month now before Fall semester ends in mid-December and I have a good shot at the Deans List.

Last year June I finished my Freshman year with a solid 3.3 average. But now that I'm a Phi-Delta soror, I'm receiving regular healthy doses of Vitamin-F, and -- more importantly --

beaucoup

extra study-time because I'm skipping all those time-consuming campus-romance rituals of flirting, dating, and long heart-to-heart conversations.

So I'm hoping to achieve 3.7 -- which is Dean's List territory. And if I ace my finals, maybe even 4.0 across the board and the President's list.

Well, a girl can dream, can't she?

On the downside though, I've made little progress in putting together a stable of regulars for mutual pleasure -- men who I trust my safety to.

Sultan was satisfying to be sure, but we didn't really click. For some reason, he just doesn't appeal to me as someone to repeat with. And much as I enjoy Hero, he doesn't resonate with my kink at all. Nor does Builder.

I still have high hopes for Silver Fox, yet he's often a no-show at P-D events and even if that were not the case, a single stallion doth not a stable make.

Today at Sunday brunch, Anais informs us that we'll again be receiving dhamps tomorrow evening -- not Raphael she quickly reassures me. No, never Raphael.

It's obvious now that so far as dhamps are concerned the house is deeply divided. Half the sisters are attracted to them, half repelled. There's six of us bindi-dot girls, and only three dhamps in the nearby city coven -- two now that Raphael has been banned from our premises (and I doubt any of us are dumb enough to seek him out in his own demesnes).

Since it's the dhamps who select the female they wish to breed, there's subtle (and not so subtle) rivalry over who will catch their eye. And, yes, envy and jealousy over who wins the attentions of Nat, Ariel, or any visiting dhamps that might show up. Plus no small amount of frustration and disappointment among the rejects.

My moon cycle has resumed and I'm taking one of Mrs. Makeba's pregnancy tests every other week. Tomorrow night I'll be at the peak of my fertility so my bindi mark will be legit.

I hope I'll be chosen -- preferably by Ariel who I have not yet experienced, but if Nat chooses me I'm over my pique. He is what he is, I am what I am.

Ariel's clearly the oldest of the three nearby dhamps. He's good looking in a mature sort of way, stouter than Nat or Raphael, with a distinguished touch of gray at his temples. By no means is he eye-candy. He is, however, some kind of big

macher

investor in cutting-edge biotech companies.

Aiko describes him as a, "Connoisseur of fine wine and fine females." It's clear she's targeting him, though I don't know whether it's because of his bedroom prowess or her future career in biotech. Or both? In any case, at the moment her cycle isn't bindi-dot green so tomorrow night she won't place herself on offer when the dhamps come seeking.

* * *

At nine sharp Monday evening, I'm once again casually lounging in the second floor lounge with a bright green bindi dot adorning my forehead. I admit that the thought of being taken by a dhamp stirs up Raphael-related terrors. But I will not -- repeat NOT -- let him limit my life. Ruthlessly I squash down those tremors.

Anais, Innocencia, and Ysabeau, also have bindi dots, but Laila does not -- I assume she's not expecting to be chosen but is simply observing as our resident dhamp expert.

Tonight I'm wearing a gorgeous, second or third-hand, sleeveless wedding gown in white satin and lace that I found at a thrift store in the city. It's knee-length, with a tight row of rouleau buttons down the front from cleavage to waist. Retro to be sure, but I do look fabulous in it.

Ariel, Nat, and a third dhamp I've never seen enter the room together. So, three dhamps, four bindi-girls. Game on!

Nat rocks his usual Brando-Kowalski, tight-T and jeans.

Feh!

Been there, done that. If he mind-melts me I know I'll succumb, but I'd prefer to be taken by one of the other two.

The new one -- who, of course they don't bother to introduce -- is mid-thirtyish, well built, a Spanish/Mediterranean type, sporting a 'Mr. Cool,' stubble-beard with an open, casual black leather jacket over well pressed over black shirt and slacks and a fancy gold watch on his wrist.

As before, Ariel appears in full GQ-dandy with a marvelous, two-piece charcoal bespoke suit that silently proclaims 'Saville Row,' a matching narrow-brim fedora, pale pink shirt, appropriate accessories, and no tie. As before, he carries a tooled-leather manpurse in one hand. All he needs is a fancy walking stick to complete the ensemble.

Like someone casually picking a canape from a servant's tray, Nat leans forward, mind-melts Ysabeau with an exhalation of breath, holds her to keep her from collapsing, and leads her off for his pleasure -- no doubt he knows where her room is.

The stranger dhamp smiles a silent query at Anais, and offers his arm which she freely accepts.

With cool calculation, Ariel slowly studies Innocencia and me from head to toe. Holding my eyes with his gaze, he smiles a predatory smile. He's not mind-melting me, but already he's dominating me. I suddenly realize that somehow he knows -- without even touching me -- that I'm at the peak of my fertility cycle and that this time my bindi dot is true.

I swallow a bit nervously.

Calmly, confidently, he removes a black leather choker from his manpurse. With a slight swirl of his finger he commands me to turn my back to him. I do so without hesitation or demure. With a quickening heart, I lift my blond tresses up off my neck so that he can fasten his slave collar around my throat.

He commands me with a touch and I turn back to face him so that he can clip a silver chain to the collar ring. Though he has not bothered to breath directly into my face, I'm already under his spell, willing to submit my body and soul to his desire, eager to surrender my womb to him.

And as he leads away to be bred, I know with absolute certainty he is about to impregnate me. My heart leaps for joy that I have been chosen to conceive, bear, birth, and nurture his offspring. A son that will be precious to me because it is his.

A few minutes later we're alone in Lark. Nat and Raphael had to exhale their mind-melt breath directly into my face every few minutes to maintain me in thrall. But with Ariel, just the penumbra of his normal breathing is enough to arouse, dominate, and control me.

So much so that pleasuring him with my body in whatever way he desires and welcoming his seed into my womb is now the entirety of my universe. It is my sacred destiny, it is my sole purpose. Nothing else in life matters a whit to me.

He embraces me, bends me back, and kisses me thoroughly. I melt into his arms, offering my body for his pleasure, my womb for his seed.

Slowly, softly, like the caress of a feather, his fingers stroke me through the satin of my gown, leaving traces of erotic fire in their wake.

One by one, he undoes the column of small buttons running down my gown from the 'V' of my cleavage to the flaring skirt below my waist. The incidental brush of his fingers against my throbbing breasts inflames me.

Completely under his domination, I thrill as his strong, firm palms slide the straps off my shoulders and down my arms until the white satin wedding dress flows over my hips to puddle around my feet.

Standing before him in white lace bra, satin half-slip, and four inch heels I quiver with erotic energy as I wait for him to take and breed me.

"Remove and fold my garments." The first actual words he's spoken all evening. Quickly, eagerly, lovingly, I remove his jacket and set it carefully on a plush hanger in my closet, brushing it with my palms to ensure that it's hanging straight. I do the same for his bespoke shirt. His manly chest is not as hard and sculptured as Nat's, but I delight as I caress my palm across it.

A gaze into the deep pools of his eyes tells me his desire. Gracefully, I kneel before him to remove his shoes and socks and place them next to each other by the side of the bed.

I am his worshipful slave. I glance up to confirm that he wishes me to continue. Then, ever so carefully, I unbuckle the belt on his finely creased trousers and draw them down so he can regally step out of them.

I fold, smooth, and hang them beneath his jacket in my closet before quickly returning to kneel submissively at his feet.

Again I gaze up at him. His slight nod of approval delights me and confirms that he will allow me to pleasure him with my mouth. I remove his exquisite boxer shorts to reveal his magnificent erection rising up out of his curly thicket. It is powerfully masculine, beautifully straight and firm. Soon he will impale me on it. I'm almost panting with anticipation.

As if from above, I watch myself kiss it tenderly and begin to lick it. I lean forward and gently, carefully, ease my lips over it. A drop of pre-cum adorns its tip. The taste is heavenly.

My wet tongue caresses and moistens the mating shaft that I know will soon be impregnating me. My nether lips are already sopping wet.

I take him as deep into my mouth as I am able to do without discomfort for either of us. Rhythmically, I move up and down on him, licking, sucking, and arousing him, while simultaneously inflaming my own erotic core.

I can sense his seed swelling up his shaft toward release. He tangles his strong, commanding fingers in my hair and I thrill at his control over me as he gushes his warm, salty semen down my throat.

I savor and cherish his male essence as it slowly descends into my belly.

After he completes, he allows me to adore his male member as it softens in my mouth. The erotic wave that had washed over me begins to partially subside.

Eventually, after endless bliss, he withdraws. Though both eager and desperate for him to breed me, I remain kneeling at my Master's feet, adoring him with my eyes, awaiting his next command.

With rapt gaze, I watch him remove a wine miniature from his purse. It looks expensive, some kind of red, but his fingers obscure the label. "This will make your lips sweet for my kisses," he tells me as he opens it and hands it to me.

But before I can raise it to my lips he halts me with gesture. Obedient to his slightest whim, I patiently await his command.

He takes out a tiny vial filled with a clear fluid, opens it, and places it in my other hand. "Add this to your wine, my sweet," he says softly.

I sigh in pleasure at his tender, "My sweet." He is my true eternal love -- as I am his. I am his all. I am his only. Careful not to spill a drop, I do as he bids me.

"Sip it slowly, my darling. It is a powerful aphrodisiac and fertility-enhancer. I know that you are at the peak of your cycle. Your womb is ready. It awaits my seed. This will make conception a certainty. You will bear me a son."

I sigh in utter contentment. His words increase my erotic arousal. My master has chosen me -- Me! -- to be his vessel, to be the chalice bearing his sacred child. I'm overwhelmed by adoration, and awed that through him I will fulfill and achieve my female destiny.

I sip the wine slowly, savoring it because it comes from his hand. It's delightful, full and fecund. Somewhere in the far recesses of my mind this all sounds strangely familiar, but I don't -- or can't -- or won't -- follow the thought.

Without me noticing, he's powered up my sound system and found my romance playlist, starting with Elgar's

Salut d'amour

. So thoughtful.

At the touch of his fingers I rise into his tender embrace. Gently, softly, lovingly, he unhooks my white-lace bra and allows it to drop to the floor, presenting my swelling breasts and aroused nipples for his pleasure.

He bends me as far back as my slender body can manage and kisses me deeply. My soul melts in delighted submission.

With one powerful hand he holds me secure with my back still deeply arched so that his lips can kiss, lick, and then begin to suck at my erect nipple that has begun to spontaneously lactate a clear, erotic fluid.

Somehow, I can't remember exactly how, I know that the elixir I am expressing into his mouth is also -- for him -- a powerful aphrodisiac and fertility enhancer. The sheer sensual pleasure of my erotic essence flowing from my breast, out through my nipple, into my love's mouth for his pleasure makes me gasp and tremble.

Without warning, an enormous orgasmic wave swells up from my sopping wet apex and sweeps through my entire being like a tsunami of love. My senses are overwhelmed and I collapse, swooning into Ariel's arms.

He cradles me like a sleeping child, still kissing and sucking at my breast. Then, softly, gently -- for I am his eternal love -- he lays me out on the black satin sheets of my large bed.

In complete submission to his male power, I lay passive, my hair a golden halo against the ebony sheets, my arms spread wide to sign my vulnerability and acceptance of being bred by him.

He lays his palm against my flat empty womb, taking possession of it, silently promising me that he will soon fill it with life. He strokes my mons beneath my panties and through the thin fabric he fingers my dripping cleft.

With a sudden, violent jerk he rips away my panties and tosses them on the floor.

"Ahhhhh," I sigh in contentment, knowing that he is about to take me, breed me, impregnate me.

With gentle pressure, he causes my breast to express the erotic fluid I am lactating so that it coats his hand as he plays with my nipple. He inserts his dripping fingers between my lips so that I can share the taste of my female erotic essence. It's the sweetest, most erotic taste I've ever experienced.

Deliberately, gently, thoroughly, he caresses my face, my body, my legs, my sensitized breasts, my eagerly waiting female gate. He's playing me like a virtuoso soloist plays a Stradivarius, controlling and savoring me, bringing me --and then holding me -- at the edge of orgasm.

As the instrument of his pleasure, I respond to the slightest touch of his fingers and his palms. For an endless eternity of sensual pleasure he holds me at peak arousal without release.

"Take me," I moan desperately. "Please take me. Plant your seed in me," I beg. "Breed me. Give me your child."

He smiles. He has such a beautiful smile. His strong, powerful hands grip my ankles and spread my legs wide. He looms over me, his glorious erection dominating my gaze.

I expect him to pin me to the bed with his weight, but instead he inserts his forearms beneath my back to hold his muscular torso above me with just my wet, swollen, tender nipples brushing his chest. I feel as if I'm no longer subject to gravity. Like a cloud, I float in his alpha male universe.

Finally, the tip of his phallus touches, and then slowly, parts my nether lips.

"Oh God! Oh God. Oh yes!" I shriek as he thrusts himself into me. My body thrashes and writhes in ecstasy. He pumps in and out, faster and faster, driving the full length of his mating rod deeper and deeper into my core. He reaches the very center and ultimate purpose of my female existence and I spasm in a squirting orgasm.

As I rock in synchronicity to his powerful thrusts, incredible, uncontrollable, orgasms flood through my body, reducing me to an animal in primal heat, a female beast enslaved by my own biologic imperative.

I clench my channel around his hard manhood and feel it begin to pulse as he gushes his semen into my welcoming womb.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" I scream as he fills me with his life essence, the excess oozing out around his throbbing manspear to run down my thighs on to the already wet black satin sheet.

I'm becoming breathless -- dizzy -- disoriented -- I can't breath. A black wave of darkness overcomes my consciousness and I know nothing more.

* * *

The next morning I awake with a start. It all comes crashing back to me -- every single minute of it.

Oh. My. God!

That... that... that dhamp debased me down to nothing more than a bitch in heat. Not a person, not a human being -- just a female animal in a breeding frenzy. I feel utterly soiled, humiliated -- degraded.

Yes, yes, the sex was incredible! I'm still glowing with sensual satisfaction from a massive Vitamin-F overdose. Compared to Ariel, Nat was hardly more than that awkward, fumbling, high school jock who I disposed my virginity to.

And yes, yes, I know. I thrill at being dominated and taken by a powerful male. But as a woman with a mind and a will who chooses to submit to his power, not a mindless animal in breeding-frenzy.

And without a shadow of a doubt I know that he impregnated me. I'm not even going to bother with a test -- it's Plan B time!

As I start to roll out of bed, sore muscles I never knew existed suddenly call themselves to my attention -- not injuries, just the aftermath of ecstatic writhing and thrashing.

I'm still nude. I'd slept the sleep of the exhausted on fluid-stained sheets, but at least Ariel had thrown a blanket over me before he left.

Or had he? Maybe someone else had. Hero, perhaps? That's a comforting thought -- though the possibility that someone had seen me in that post-estrus state was most definitely

not

comforting.

My garments from last night are still scattered on the floor. My thoughts are a bit hazy -- well, okay, sluggish -- and I have to ponder the pros and cons of showering first and then picking up after, or vice versa? Before I can satisfactorily resolve that deep conundrum, I see that my phone is blinking an alert.

It's a priority text from Aiko:

Ariel? Last night? Please speak with me before doing anything

Aiko! Oh yes indeed, I most definitely want to have a little chat with our little Miss Aiko! I text her back and we agree to have breakfast together after my morning workout.

Aiko and I fill our plates from the breakfast buffet and take a table for two in the far corner of the alcove. By Phi-Delt custom, it's a table reserved for sisters wishing to have private conversations without interruptions from others.

Aiko takes a sip of coffee, "So? Ariel?"

I answer with a look that's half exasperation, half glare, and half O.M.G. why are you even asking? And yes, I know, that's too many halves.

Aiko smiles and blushes prettily. "Uh, did he offer you anything special to drink?"

I nod slowly. She obviously knows damn well that he did. She must have experienced it herself with him -- probably more than once.

"Aiko, that Nyx dream I told you about last September? Remember? It was just like in my dream. How is that possible? You must have recognized some of what I described -- erotic lactation, fertility-aphrodisiac, sexual frenzy -- why didn't you say anything?"

Aiko's face turns red with embarrassment -- no longer cute.

She protests that she's bound by an NDA that strictly limits what she can say, to whom, and when.

But under pressure, she does, finally, admit that she had been astounded at the accuracy of my dream. The only explanation she could come up with is that when she talked to Innocencia after Ariel took her that night, I had been in the alcove having breakfast at the same time.

Too far away to actually overhear, but perhaps not too distant for Subconscious Auditory Effect. The human subconscious can hear and interpret sounds that don't rise to conscious perception -- yet they might be able to influence a dream.

Her explanation sounds fishy to me, but I have no better theory. I wait for her to continue. Sometimes silence is the most effective method of interrogation.

She tells me that her primary interest and project is psycho-pharmacology -- meaning Nyx. But as a science student, she's fascinated by Ariel's fertility and sexuality work.