To someone else, this entire situation would be obscenely fucked up. To you? Well, as deeply invested in the Project as you were, it was an honor to be selected by Jacob for this.
Your job was to protect the herd. You were very good at your job, silencing the resistance ruthlessly and without mercy. Like any responsible handler, Jacob had a duty to ensure the continuation of his sect of the herd. Ever into the theory of survival of the fittest, after he picked you, a select handful of other women in his army and about five men for each woman before he'd sent each one with her quintet to an outpost.
These were the cream of Jacob's crop, so you'd been given a 30 minute head start before they were after you. You gave them a run for their money, evading the men longer than the average local as you knew how they'd think and how they'd act, as well as how to set them off of your trail in a wrong direction. There were a few close calls, hiding behind a tree as the men darted past you not 10 yards away.
You wanted to be caught, but Jacob made it clear that you were to make them work for it. Only the strongest and the smartest deserved to pass on their genes. If they couldn't find you, catch you or keep a hold of you? That was their problem.
Soon though the jig was up. They'd grouped up and made a plan as opposed to working solo, one of them spooking you only for another to flush you out to the remaining trio. Found but not caught, you'd tried to take off like a startled deer.
Tried being the operative word.
Not that you were complaining, even as the group of men descended on you like wolves. Your clothes were roughly pulled down (or up, in the case of your shirt and bra), not removing the clothing but merely getting them out of the way. Primed and worked up as you were (Of course Jacob waited until you were ovulating- that'd just be wasteful otherwise), the men didn't have to do much to get you wet enough for them. With one man pinning down your shoulders as another lifted your hips, the one holding your shoulders was quick to twist so he was straddling your chest. Feeling like a bitch in heat, you were pleased as pie to have one cock stuffed down your throat as the other slipped into your wet cunt. Whining the moment they started, you happily gagged on the cock in your mouth, falling into a rhythm with the man pounding between your legs. There were more hands pawing at you but it was hard to think straight when someone's fingers found their way to your clit and started playing with you. Struggling to breath through your nose, it took a solid effort to stay focused on the hard dick between your lips while your hips squirmed and bucked.
Hands gripping at the hips of the man in front of you, the scent and taste of his sweat only spurred you further as you worked him with your mouth. Bathing wasn't as routine an occurrence as perhaps it should be, but the opportunity to have sex that would be sanctioned outside of marriage was far too good an opportunity to pass up over such a trivial detail.
By the time the one in your throat came you were a drooling mess. Struggling to swallow as much as you could of the bitter cum down your throat, the pile of bodies holding you down froze dead at the sound of a “tsk” off to your left.
The sound of disapproval was by none other than Jacob Seed himself and the sound of a dropped pin could have been heard while you all scrambled to figure out who screwed up.
“That's just wasteful blowing your load down her throat like that. The whole point is to knock her up.” The silence continued for a beat before he affixed a pointed look to the man between your legs. “Well? Get back to it.”
The men were clearly cowed by their Herald observing them, nervous to make a wrong move before you managed to coax the one between your legs to get back into it.
Years ago you'd have been mortified at the idea of being passed from one man to another as a glorified cum dumpster but with things having panned out as they did and your life having gone the way it had you were all for the current scenario.
Jacob's interruption and the men's newfound hesitancy meant you didn't get to come as the one between your thighs did, though they relaxed more with your baiting pleas of “more” and “faster” and “harder”. You were desperate to cum, but the second man (technically the third) couldn't bring you to climax only causing your frustration to mount even further as the next man mounted you. With enough pawing and batting your eyelashes you were able to coax the final one to stick his dick down your throat, not missing the irritated eye roll from the Herald across the way from you. This one had more discipline than to spill himself down your throat though, withdrawing and lazily stroking himself until he could finally take his turn.
There was no telling if Jacob would allow a round 2 and you were frantic to cum. Barely able to hold your hips still as the final one slid in you, the way was well lubricated with the mixed cum of three other men as he sloppily thrust into you. Bucking in frustration, you were teetering so close to the edge but couldn't quite get there even with the numerous hands on your body. The pressure was too much in the wrong spots and too soft in others, too strung out to verbalize what you needed and left with a disappointed whine as the final one pushed himself into you one last time before spilling his seed.
All too soon your well used body was exposed to the Montana chill as the men backed off of you immediately, much to your disappointment. Subtly hoping one of the first ones would be able to get another erection (because at this point you were about to pin one of them down and ride him like a rented mule until you came), you blinked owlishly as you realized why they'd abandoned you.
Jacob was now standing before you, the outline of his half hard cock pressing very visibly against his jeans as he leisurely started unbuckling his belt.
No wonder the men had scattered to the four winds- with the alpha eyeing you like he was, it was hard to blame the others for not wanting to even look like they were contemplating trying to keep you for themselves. They were still around, just a safe distance away from the pair of you.
You were on your knees in a second, crawling the short distance before sitting back on your heels as your hands reached for him. A small voice in the back of your head told you that you should have more discipline and wait to be told it was okay to touch him. A much larger part of you was frothing at the bit to get his cock down your throat and your impulse control was out the window.
Lucky you, that was exactly what Jacob was wanting out of you anyway. One of those massive hands threaded through the strands of your hair so he could hold you steady as he fucked your mouth. Happily swallowing as much of him as you could get past your lips, your needs from earlier had not gone away. Whimpering nosily as you rubbed your thighs together you didn't dare hope that he would fuck you. Or rather that he would put his cock where you wanted it the most.
“Such a good girl taking all that cum for me. Got five of my best men acting like a bunch of teenagers who can't control themselves.” His praise nearly had you going limp in his grasp.
“And yet not one of them managed to get you off, did they?” If you were in your right mind the answering whine would have been mortifying. His voice was low enough that the others wouldn't have been able to hear him but there was no mistaking the sounds coming from you.
“That's a damn shame isn't it, Sweetheart? You wanna cum?” This time the answering whine was accompanied by an eager nod despite the tug on your hair with each motion. You didn't know if you'd done well enough for him to think you deserved to climax, but that wasn't the question he'd asked was it?
A rough yank had you sputtering as he pulled out of your throat. Several strands of saliva connected your lips to his cock before severing, the drool landing on your face and neck.
“Bend over. Shoulders in the dirt.”
An unexpected thrill shot up your spine as realization hit you. He was going to fuck you.
Quick to comply, you adjusted your position so one cheek was pressed against the ground, shoulders dropped with your ass in the air.
There was no preamble, your only warning when he took another handful of hair to hold you in place before sliding into you to the hilt. You moaned like a bitch in heat, well prepped for the stretch of his girth. The pace he set was simultaneously punishing and perfect. Gripping the dirt underneath you to get the leverage to press back against him, you gave a surprised yelp when one of his hands snuck between your legs.
“Seems it's about quality over quantity, isn't it, Sweetheart?” he teased. Finding your clit with ease, there was no silencing you with how keyed up you were. Bucking between his hand and his hips with the rhythmic tink tink tink as his belt buckle and dog tags bounced with each thrust the only thing you could say was Jacob's name and a litany of curse words.
Your climax was very well deserved in your opinion, going slack jawed and limp in his hold as it washed over you. The herald thrust into you a few more times before groaning low in his throat as his own orgasm finally came, the grip on your hips later leaving bruises that lasted for a week.
Quality over quantity indeed. 40 weeks later you were heavy with child, cursing for everyone to hear and at anyone who so much as glanced your way as you labored to give birth. One final push ushered your baby into the world and there was no denying the parentage with the thick crop of red hair and definitively Seed blue eyes.
Someone sneaks into your room to see the baby
Did anyone ask for this? No. Do I have other things I should be doing? Yes. Is that going to stop me? Also no.
Note; First paragraph contains a dream depicting S.I.D.S. It is only a bad dream, nothing happens to baby- scout's honor.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
The first night after the birth of your son had been traumatic. Less the birth itself and more what happened after you'd gone to sleep.
Waking when needed had never been a struggle for you. Knowing that the baby would need feeding every two hours, you'd woken up in the middle of the night to tend to him at exactly 3:13 according to the clock. Rather than hearing the soft fussing of a baby who was hungry but not quite ready to start crying you heard total silence. Maybe he was still asleep? Going to the crib to pick up the baby your stomach dropped. Something was wrong with his coloring and he was entirely too loose in your grip.
It was when you realized he wasn't breathing you started screaming.
Lurching from bed with a shout, your blood felt like ice in your veins. Your brain was spinning with the realization you were still in your bed. The clock blinked 3:13 at you and the baby started to cry at the same time a knock sounded on the door.
“Everything alright in there?”
The tension dropped out of your shoulders with a heavy exhale. It was a dream. A horrible, wretched dream.
You were too slow to answer, mind still reeling as it sorted reality from the terrible fiction it had concocted. The door opened, light from the hall spilling into the room. You didn't know the man standing in the doorway, but recognized him as one of the night patrol guards. His gaze flicked around the room double check there wasn't a threat looming in the shadows.
“We're fine. I'm sorry.”
He shrugged. “Don't worry about it. Just wanted to check. Jacob'd hand me over to the Cook if something happened and I didn't even open the door.”
The baby still crying, he shut the door so you could tend to your son in peace.
For the past two weeks you'd woken each night at 3:13 on the dot, a wave of panic flooding your system that would compel you to check on him. Just watching his little chest rise and fall calmed you until you settled enough to go back to sleep.
For the past two weeks your paranoia had been for nothing. It became easier to settle down with each progressive night.
When your baby was 17 days old you once again woke at 3:13. The chill in your veins had nothing to do with lingering trauma from your dream.
There was someone in the room with you. Stiffening, you couldn't see well enough to figure out who it was. Not to mention there was no one who had any business being in your room while you slept. Was it a Whitetail? Moving slowly, whoever it was was so fixated on the baby- your baby- that they didn't even notice your shifting as you prepared to pounce.
“I will fucking kill you!” was the only warning they got before you flung yourself at them, arms wrapping around their neck and trying to wrangle them to the ground. You didn't have any weapons and weren't remotely in shape to kill someone with your bare hands, but the maternal rage flooding your system held absolutely no interest in the facts. There was a threat and it needed to die.
A large, warm hand reached back and grabbed you firmly by the back of the neck as the intruder turned and dropped their torso forward. The momentum, guided by the hand on you, flipped you onto your back. Bouncing harmlessly on the bed your still aching body protested the movement and you landed with a grunt. Refusing to let that slow you down, you'd barely comprehended your new position before you reached out with your nails. Fully committed to fighting dirty, you were going to claw the crap out of their face before one hand wrapped around both wrists.
“God damn, Sweetheart, 's just me.”
The sound of his voice jarred you with the realization of who had been in the room.
Jacob had been gone for almost 3 weeks and you'd been far too preoccupied with your child to keep tabs on the rumor mill of his expected return.
Eyes adjusting to the shifted lighting, there was just enough illumination for you to see the predatory expression on his face, pupils blown wide and his chest heaving.
His free hand grasped your hip and pulled you closer to his waist, head dropping near your ear as he spoke quietly. “I knew you were the right one to pick. I chose you. You've fulfilled your purpose for me so well.” His hand drifted further up your leg.
You could feel yourself getting hot under the collar, skin warming at his attention.
The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps down the hall was the only warning you were about to have company. The door opened, the same man who'd checked on you that first night. “Everything alright in h-Oh. Sorry.”
“Close the God damn door, Charlie, or you'll be on Judge duty for a week.”
The door shut quickly and quietly, fortunately for Charlie. If he'd woken the baby you would have killed him yourself.
Jacob's gaze drifted back to you, appraising your figure which was mostly obscured by your sleepwear.
The interruption gave you a clarity of the situation, namely that you'd given birth 17 days ago and your body was not ready for any foolishness.
“Jacob... It's not that I don't want to. I'm just not ready yet after the baby.”
“That's alright, Sweetheart, I can wait.” His tone was easy, expression softening a bit as he regarded you.
“Go back to sleep. I'm gonna look at him some more.”
Sleep sounded wonderful. Between not having slept more than two hours at a time for the past few weeks and the come down from the adrenaline high earlier you were ready for lights out.
When you woke you expected Jacob to be gone. He was still there, back to you with both hands in the crib muttering to himself. “See, kid? Don't know what all the fuss is about. This ain't hard. People act like you're disarming a bomb or somethin'.” The baby cooed happily at his father, waving his pudgy little fist in the air.
From the smell, you knew Jacob was changing the baby's diaper. Jacob was oblivious to the fact that you were awake so you were content to watch him interact with the baby.
Despite knowing your baby's father the moment he'd been born, you hadn't exactly planned on trying to recruit Jacob to be involved in the baby's life. Or even mentioning it. Yet apparently the rumor mill had been out in full force about the red headed, blue eyes baby you toted around during your still-somewhat-rare trips out of your room and around the compound.
Not that you would complain. Especially if he was willing to change diapers.
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