I want his cum inside me.

That’s not a hypothetical question, but a very practical prospect, since Jordan is currently busy plowing into my formerly-lesbian cunt.

The physical sensation of his thrusts is nice, but what really stokes the fire that’s burning me from the inside out is the idea, the subtle shades of meaning behind all of this.

I’m on my back, legs spread, tits to the air, throat exposed, a vulnerable prey item, open and accessible. He’s towering over me, pinning me down as he stakes his claim to my cunt.

I’m a ruined lesbian, and he’s my conqueror.

Gnnhhh…

It’s driving me insane. It’s making me unravel. And, like every time he’s fucked me recently, it’s making my mind writhe and squirm around an intrusive thought, just like my body writhes and squirms around his cock.

It’s a single thought, sharp, hot and cold at once. It cuts through my awareness like a knife.

Imagine if he decided that, after changing my orientation, he was going to take away my reproductive autonomy too.

It’s the same thought as last time. It runs through my head, over and over and over. Repeating it like a mantra makes me so fucking wet, it helps me race towards orgasm, it makes my limbs shake with pure adrenaline…

I can’t keep quiet about this anymore.

"Sir," I say in between gasps, "I… need to ask you something."

Jordan’s thrusting slows down. He looks down at me, visibly surprised by my sudden interjection. "What is it, Lexi?"

I swallow hard, my heart hammering in my chest. This is insane. We're not even together, and here I am, asking indirectly if he’d ever consider taking ownership of my own body away from me.

"I was just wondering…" I say, shakily. "What do you think about… about birth control?"

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks completely taken aback. He’s still buried deep inside me, but his attention is fully on my face now, searching my expression.

"Birth control?" he repeats, as if making sure he heard me right. "What about it?"

I can see the gears turning in his mind as he tries to understand where this is coming from. Hell, I’m not even sure where this is coming from. I’m supposed to be a fucking lesbian.

"I… I was just wondering about… you know… who gets to decide. In a relationship."

Jordan's eyes search mine, and I can see the moment when understanding dawns. His breath catches, and his cock twitches inside me, betraying his own arousal at the thought.

"Who gets to decide, huh?" he says slowly, his voice low and thoughtful. His hips start moving again, making me gasp.

I nod, biting my lip. My cheeks are burning. I can't believe I'm having this conversation while he's literally inside me.

"Well," he continues, his thrusts gradually picking up speed, "I guess the best way to answer that is a… physical demonstration."

His eyes bore into mine, intense and searching. I feel like he's looking straight into my soul. Then, he leans forward.

His hand moves to my throat, his fingers wrapping around it, applying just the slightest pressure. Not enough to restrict my breathing, but enough to make it crystal clear that he could choke me.

His other hand resumes its assault on my clit, and his cock pistons faster and faster into me. The message couldn’t be clearer. I’m asking who has the power to decide about birth control. And he’s showing me who has the power.

"I think it’s pretty obvious," he says, and there’s such an edge to his voice, a low growl of feral arousal, "that the boyfriend calls the shots. He decides. The girlfriend’s body is his rightful property, after all."

Oh god. Oh fuck. He's spelling it out, making it real. It makes my cunt clench hard around his cock. I’m a terrible lesbian, and a terrible feminist, but God, do I make for a good fuckslut…

"But Sir," I manage to say between ragged breaths, "I don't… I don't have a boyfriend."

Jordan smirks, as if I’ve just stepped into his trap. "Really, Lexi? Then riddle me this… who’s fucking you right now?"

His words are like a match to a powder keg, igniting something primal within me. I can only whimper in response, my eyes rolling back in my head as his words send me hurtling towards the edge.

The world around me seems to recede further and further. All there is is his cock in my cunt, his fingers on my clit, his hands on my throat, pinning me down, snuffing out any ember of rebellion or independence or autonomy. Reducing my will. Ending my feminism. Rewriting my sexual orientation. Annexing me to his will.

Jordan. My boyfriend. My owner. My Sir.

If he knocked me up, everyone would know who I belong to. If he summarily bred me, everyone would know that he’s taken me, that he’s converted me, that I’m now a proper straight girl whose place in life is at a man’s feet.

The thought swirls around and around in my head, amplifying my arousal to a fever pitch. He’s going to stake his claim on my body and life ad will in the most primal, undeniable way possible.

He’s going to deny me the pill. He’s going to keep me as his pet. He’s going to take and take, until I have nothing left to give…

Oh god oh fuck oh jesus I can't I can't I can't —

My orgasm comes so rapidly that it almost ambushes me. My body convulses under his, a moan rips out of my throat, and my cunt clenches hard around his cock. Wave after wave of intense, almost violent pleasure crashes over me, whiting out my vision, short-circuiting my brain.

Distantly, I’m aware of Jordan grunting above me, his cock beginning to quiver and pulse. But when the first ropes of cum release inside me, I feel that in full. My cunt milks spurt after spurt, fulfilling my biological duty to the stronger sex.

Just thinking about that prolongs my own climax, until it feels like it’s lasted an eternity.

The climb down is slow. The sheets beneath us are drenched in our sweat, and our slow, deep breathing is the only sound to be heard in the room for some time. Maybe minutes, but there’s an odd, suspended quality to it that makes it feel much longer than that.

"You have my permission to take the pill…" Jordan says at last. My boyfriend. My owner. My Sir.

He flashes me a mischievous smile. "… This time, that is."

***

I find myself in a position that's growing all too familiar—on my knees, waiting for Jordan.

My boyfriend. My owner. My Sir.

The cold bathroom tile bites into my skin through the thin fabric of my dress, a pretty blue one that I bought specifically because Jordan mentioned once that he likes me in blue. It's short enough to be called slutty, long enough to maintain some pretense of dignity. Not that dignity matters much to me anymore.

The bathroom is pristine, all marble and chrome, nothing like the grimy college party bathroom where Jordan first made me... where I first chose to suck his cock. Where I first felt my lesbianism crack, like the shell of a robin’s egg.

My heart pounds as I hear footsteps approaching. I've been in here for nearly ten minutes, my anticipation building with each passing second.

The door opens, and my sultry smile freezes on my face.

Jordan isn't alone.

Behind him stands a guy I vaguely recognize from one of my college classes.

I feel a sudden bout of anxiety and panic at someone knowing, which is silly, because I’ve been toying with the idea of Jordan impregnating me, so secrecy has clearly long since stopped being a concern.

"Hey, Lexi," Jordan says casually, as if this is all perfectly normal. "You remember my buddy Ethan, right?"

I think so. Computer science major. He has thick glasses, unkempt brown hair, and a faded nerdy t-shirt that's seen better days.

Ethan gives an awkward wave, his eyes darting between Jordan and me. His gaze lingers on my position—on my knees, dressed up, clearly waiting for something that wasn't meant to include him.

"I… yes," I manage, my voice small. I can feel heat rising to my cheeks. "Hi, Ethan."

Jordan locks the door behind them, the click echoing in the suddenly too-small bathroom. My stomach flips, a confusing mixture of humiliation and arousal swirling inside me.

"Ethan here has been having a rough time lately," Jordan explains, his voice casual as he leans against the sink. "Girl troubles, you know how it is. I told him you might be able to help cheer him up."

My eyes widen as understanding dawns. This isn't just an unexpected interruption. This is intentional. This is Jordan sharing me.

"Jordan, I..." I begin, but he silences me with a look. That look. The one that makes my protests die in my throat, that makes my thighs clench involuntarily.

"Sir…" I correct myself.

"That’s better. Now, hands behind your back."

I obediently place my hands behind my back, feeling strangely calm despite the surreal situation unfolding. This should feel wrong—being traded like currency between friends, being used as a party favor for someone I barely know. Instead, it feels like a natural progression. From lesbian to straight. From autonomous woman to sexual property. From Jordan's exclusive plaything to... this.

Jordan steps behind me.

I feel something soft but sturdy wrap around my wrists—his belt, I realize, as he cinches it tight enough to be secure without cutting off circulation.

"There," Jordan says, satisfaction evident in his voice. "Now you can focus entirely on making Ethan feel good." He moves to stand behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "Ethan, why don't you show Lexi what you've got for her?"

Ethan shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting between Jordan and me. He looks nervous, unsure—the complete opposite of Jordan's easy confidence.

"Dude, I don't know about this," Ethan says, pushing his glasses up his nose with one finger. "She doesn't seem—"

"Lexi," Jordan interrupts, his voice taking on that commanding edge. "Tell Ethan how much you want this."

My mouth goes dry. This is humiliation on a whole new level. It's not just about being made to perform sexually—it's about having to verbally beg for it, to actively participate in my own degradation.

And God help me, I want it.

"I want this," I say, my voice steadier than I expected. "I want to... to make you feel good, Ethan."

"Come on," Jordan says, "you can do better than that."

The humiliation burns through me like wildfire, making my pussy throb with that now-familiar ache. This is different from being with Jordan. This is being passed around, being used as entertainment, as a party favor. It's degrading in a way that makes me dizzy with shame and arousal.

"I... I want to suck your cock, Ethan," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jordan's hand comes to rest atop my head, like I’m just a pet. It sends a shiver down my spine. "See? She's eager to show you what that pretty mouth can do."

Ethan still looks hesitant, but something shifts in his expression—a flicker of desire breaking through his uncertainty.

"You’re right, by the way. She used to be a lesbian, you know," Jordan continues conversationally, as if discussing the weather rather than my sexual history. "I straightened her out. Trained her mouth to take cock like she was born for it. And then did the same with… the rest of her."

I feel myself flush hot with shame and arousal. The casual way Jordan discusses my conversion, like I'm a project he successfully completed, makes me squirm where I kneel.

"Really?" Ethan asks, his voice cracking slightly.

"Oh yeah. Gold star lesbian until a few weeks ago. Now she can't get enough dick. Isn't that right, Lexi?"

"Yes, Sir," I whisper, the words falling from my lips automatically now.

That finally breaks Ethan’s hesitation.

He fumbles with his zipper, and when he finally frees his cock, I'm surprised—it's actually quite nice, slightly longer than Jordan's though not as thick.

Look at me, appreciating the aesthetic value of cock. Some lesbian I am.

Jordan's hands tighten on my shoulders. "Go ahead, Lexi. Show Ethan what that lesbian mouth of yours can do now."

I lean forward, my bound hands forcing me to maintain my balance carefully as I approach Ethan's cock. It hovers before me, semi-hard and waiting.

The first touch of Ethan's cock against my lips feels monumental. My lesbian lips, which once proudly refused all male contact, now willingly part for the second cock they've ever encountered. I dart my tongue out, giving the tip an experimental lick, and hear Ethan's sharp intake of breath above me.

There's something different about this—not just physically, but symbolically. With Jordan, I could tell myself it was just a dare that got out of hand, a singular exception. But this? This is undeniable proof of what I've become. One cock could be explained away as curiosity. Two cocks makes me... what exactly?

The significance isn't lost on me as I part my lips and take Ethan into my mouth. These lips that once whispered sweet nothings to women, that claimed a lesbian identity with pride, are now eagerly wrapping around a second man's cock. The symbolism is crushing, exhilarating, devastating.

I hear Ethan gasp above me as I begin to work my tongue around his shaft. He tastes different from Jordan—slightly saltier, with a hint of something I can't quite place. My mind catalogues these differences clinically while my body responds with shameful enthusiasm.

"Look at her go," Jordan comments, pride evident in his voice. "She's a natural. Never would've guessed she was eating pussy exclusively until a few weeks ago, would you?"

Ethan makes a strangled sound that might be agreement. His hands hover awkwardly at his sides, unsure where to land.

"You can grab her hair," Jordan instructs casually. "She likes it rough."

My cheeks burn at how easily Jordan speaks for me, decides what I like. The worst part is that he's right—I do like it rough now. He's taught me to.

Ethan's fingers tentatively thread through my hair, gently at first, then with growing confidence as I moan around his cock. The vibration makes him twitch against my tongue.

I'm putting on a show now, I realize—not just for Ethan, but for Jordan. Showing him how well I've learned, how thoroughly I've been converted. I hollow my cheeks and suck harder, using all the techniques Jordan has taught me.

"Fuck," Ethan breathes. "This is... she's..."

"I know, right? Look at her take it. Natural cocksucker, wouldn't you think? You'd never guess she was eating pussy exclusively just a month ago."

The commentary sends another wave of humiliation crashing through me. I'm being discussed like I'm not even here, like I'm just a relief implement, sexual furniture—the converted lesbian, now serving as a communal fucktoy.

And yet, I find myself working harder, hollowing my cheeks, taking Ethan deeper. I want to prove Jordan right. I want to show that I'm good at this, that I've learned well, that I'm worthy of being shown off. The psychological contradiction makes me dizzy with arousal.

"Fuck, Jordan," Ethan groans, his grip tightening in my hair. "You weren't kidding. Her mouth is amazing."

"Right? Dykes give the best head once they're properly trained. Something about the self-abnegation and being so aware of how much they’re debasing themselves… it makes them super attentive."

I feel Jordan's hands descend onto the back of my head, his grip firm but not painful. His fingers thread through my hair, taking control, dictating my movements. The autonomy I had in pleasuring Ethan evaporates instantly.

"Let me show you how she likes it," Jordan says above me, his voice casual as if discussing proper form for a gym exercise.

His hands begin to regulate my pace, pushing me forward and pulling me back in a rhythm that's faster than what I'd been doing on my own. I feel the head of Ethan's cock hitting the back of my throat with each forward motion, making me gag slightly despite my growing experience.

"Jesus," Ethan hisses through clenched teeth. "That's... oh fuck..."

I can tell he's getting close. His cock throbs against my tongue, his breathing becomes more ragged, and his hips start to buck forward involuntarily. Jordan's hands keep me steady, preventing me from pulling back even when Ethan's thrusts become more erratic.

"I'm... I'm gonna..." Ethan stammers, his fingers joining Jordan's in my hair, gripping tightly.

That's when I feel Jordan lean down, his lips brushing against my ear.

"You know what would be really hot, Lexi?" he whispers, his voice low enough that only I can hear him. "Maybe I'll have you get knocked up by Ethan. Imagine that—my lesbian girlfriend carrying some nerd's baby."

Cold dread washes over me like a bucket of ice water. My heart literally seems to skip a beat, then pounds painfully against my ribcage. The bathroom tilts around me, and for a moment, I think I might pass out.

At that exact moment, Ethan groans loudly above me, his cock pulsing as the first jet of cum hits the back of my throat.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

Jordan's hands press firmly on my head, keeping me in place, ensuring I have no choice but to swallow.

My mind is reeling, torn between the physical act of swallowing Ethan's release and the psychological bomb Jordan just dropped in my ear. Get knocked up by Ethan? Have another man's baby? Not even Jordan's, but a stranger's?

The cum keeps coming, filling my mouth faster than I can swallow. Some of it dribbles down my chin despite my best efforts. Jordan's hands remain firm on my head, not allowing me to pull away until Ethan is completely spent.

Finally, mercifully, Ethan withdraws from my mouth with a satisfied groan. His softening cock slips from between my lips as he steps back, tucking himself away with a satisfied sigh.

"Fuck, that was amazing," he says, his voice dreamy and distant to my ears. "Thanks, man. And, uh, thanks Lexi."

I barely register his words. I'm still frozen, a loose strand of cum dangling from my lips as I turn to face Sir with wide, terrified uncertainty in my eyes.

But when I meet his eyes, a strange calmness washes over me. The terror that had gripped me just seconds ago begins to dissolve as I see the glint in his gaze—that familiar, playful spark that I've come to recognize. He doesn't mean it. He wouldn't actually do that to me.

What he's doing, however… is showing me that he could.

He runs his hand through my hair, and holds up a finger. "You should thank me that I’ve found you another sexual partner you can practice on, Lexi. And in return, there is one thing…"

He leans forward, closer and closer, until his forehead presses against mine.

"…one thing, you must do for me."

***

This time, when I find myself on my rightful feminine position — folded on my knees, like a compact little decorative accessory for the male gaze, fit only to look at from above, sexy and curvy and demure and beneath — I’m not alone. Not this time.

Sir has instructed me to look forward, but I still try and steal glances at Chloe, kneeling to my left. She’s fidgeting. Ten minutes in, and her knees are probably hurting already.

I feel absurdly proud that mine don’t. I guess I’ve had a lot more practice on my knees than she has. No problem though. Sir will correct that.

Like he’s corrected me.

When Sir told me to bring him one of my ex-girlfriends, Chloe was the obvious choice. Her bisexuality made her the perfect candidate – already primed for cock, with that submissive streak I'd always found so amusing during our relationship. I didn’t even indulge it — I wanted a sexual equal, much as her meekness was endearing. Now, I’ve actively lured her into a foursome — but more importantly, into joining me in prostration before male power.

Sir clears his throat, drawing both our attentions forward again. He's lounging in an armchair, legs spread wide, taking up space in that effortlessly masculine way. Ethan stands awkwardly beside him, but there's a new confidence in his posture.

He, too, is getting used to female sexual availability.

"Ladies," Sir says, his voice low and commanding. "I'm glad you could both join us tonight."

Chloe shifts beside me again. I can feel her tension, her uncertainty. It makes my own submission feel all the more complete by comparison.

"Thank you for having us, Sir," I respond promptly, the words flowing naturally now.

"You did good, Lexi," Jordan says, his approval filling me with such pure warmth. "Bringing me such a pretty little gift. Chloe, your ex-girlfriend here has been very eager to share you with us. She tells me you have... compatible interests."

Chloe's cheeks flush pink. "I... yes. I mean, I'm bisexual, so..."

"That's not what I meant."

Her blush deepens, and Ethan starts wringing his hands together, his eyes darting between Chloe and me with obvious excitement. He’s clearly still processing that his nerdy ass gets access to not one but two hot girls just because Jordan decided to share his toys. Chloe is here for him today.

That's what we are. Toys. Playthings. A converted dyke and her former girlfriend, serving as party favours for our rightful owners and superiors.

My poor ex-gf. I never pushed her far enough. I'd never understood how deeply she needed to submit.

She has no idea what she's in for. No idea how thoroughly Jordan can dismantle everything you thought you knew about yourself.

"Chloe," Jordan addresses her directly once again, and I watch her straighten under his attention. "Have you ever had cock before?"

"A few times, Sir. But it's been a while."

Jordan smirks. "Well, that's about to change. Lexi, why don't you help your friend get started? Show her how it's done."

The command sends a bolt of electricity through me. Chloe and I may have had sex countless times, but there’s a sexy side of me she hasn’t had the chance to see yet. It’s the side Jordan has sculpted. Time to show her how masterfully a lesbian can service cock with her mouth.

I turn to Ethan, who's already fumbling with his zipper. His cock springs free, already half-hard from anticipation. Without hesitation, I lean forward and take him into my mouth, using all the skills Jordan has taught me over the past month.

I take my time with Ethan's cock, letting Chloe see exactly what I'm doing. I want her to witness what I've become—what Jordan has made me into. His cock grows harder in my mouth with each careful lick and gentle suck. I'm not rushing this. This isn't about getting Ethan off; it's about preparing him for Chloe while showing her what I can do now.

"Watch carefully," Jordan says. "See how eagerly she takes it? How your ex-girlfriend handles a cock now? That's what proper training does to a lesbian."

I glance sideways at Chloe without stopping my ministrations. Her eyes are wide, fixed on my mouth as it slides up and down Ethan's shaft. I recognize that look—she's aroused, confused, and fascinated all at once.

Ethan stays relatively still, his hands at his sides, occasionally twitching when I hit a particularly sensitive spot. He’s no Jordan, that much is clear… but he is a man, and he deserves our worship all the same. Besides, his passivity allows me to demonstrate my skills to Chloe in full.

I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock, tasting the salty pre-cum that's starting to leak out.

Master chuckles at the show, still addressing Chloe. "Would you ever have imagined your lesbian ex-girlfriend would become such an enthusiastic cocksucker?"

I moan softly around Ethan's cock at Jordan's words, the vibration making Ethan gasp. But then, Jordan's hand lands on my head, pulling me back. A strand of saliva connects my lips to Ethan's cock as I withdraw.

“Switch,” he says, simply. Chloe hesitates… but only for a moment. Then, obediently, she shuffles forward to take my place like a well-trained dog.

I feel a strange pride watching my ex-girlfriend wrap the lips around the head of Ethan’s cock. He’s basically a stranger to her. She’s doing it out of pure, fundamental, ontological meekness. She’s doing it because I’ve seduced her into doing it. I position myself behind her and place my hand at the back of her head.

So hot, God. I bite my lower lip as I begin controlling her depth and pace.

I'm not just watching my ex-girlfriend suck a man's cock - I'm actively controlling her, teaching her, becoming an agent in her submission. I've gone from converted lesbian to converter. The thought sends a rush of heat between my legs.

Ethan groans above us, his hips making small, involuntary thrusts. Chloe gags slightly when he pushes too deep, and I immediately increase the pressure on Chloe's head, pushing her down until Ethan's cock hits the back of her throat. She gags, her body tensing, but I hold her there for just a moment before letting her pull back.

"You can handle more than that," I whisper in her ear, my voice surprisingly firm. "Just relax your throat. Let him in."

Jordan's hand lands on my shoulder, pulling me backward. I release Chloe immediately, turning to face him.

"Enough," he says. "I think Ethan can take it from here."

He grabs my wrist and pulls me up to my feet. And when Master tugs on any leash, I follow. He leads me gently but firmly towards the bed. When we reach it, he spins me around to face him, and we kiss, deeply.

"On your back," he says then, and I comply instantly.

I lie down, my body sinking into the mattress. Jordan looms over me, his presence filling my field of vision. Behind him, I can see Ethan guiding Chloe to her feet, his movements less confident than Jordan's but no less purposeful.

Jordan pushes my legs apart with his knee and positions himself between them. He's already unbuckling his belt, his eyes never leaving mine.

"You brought me a gift tonight," he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "Now I'm going to give you a gift."

He doesn't bother undressing me fully. He simply pushes my dress up around my waist and pulls my panties aside. And then, he stakes his claim on my conquered cunt, entering me with his hard cock. My body, already wet and ready for him, accepts him easily.

I am well-broken in.

From across the room, I hear Chloe's sharp intake of breath. Ethan must be entering her too. The thought of my ex-girlfriend being penetrated by a man just feet away from me is just…

It’s like we’re back together, but in a much more meaningful way than a sapphic relationship could ever hope to be.

"Listen to her," Jordan says, establishing a steady rhythm, his hips slapping against my thighs as he methodically fucks my cunt into submission. "Your ex-girlfriend, yielding to cock, because you delivered her to us."

As if on cue, Chloe makes a particularly desperate sound—half gag, half moan. The noise makes me clench around Jordan's own cock.

"There we go," Jordan says. "Two former dykes getting properly fucked. As nature intended."

The dirty talk seems to be having an effect, because from across the room, I hear the unmistakable sounds of Chloe reaching her first climax—a series of high-pitched cries followed by a long, throating moan. The sound of my ex-girlfriend orgasming on another man's cock makes every single muscle in my body tense, and my breathing becomes more erratic.

Master notices.

"Tell me what you are."

"I'm yours, Master!

"More specific," he says, grunting, fucking me harder, faster, oh, oh…

"I'm... I'm a gender traitor…"

"Louder."

"I'm a gender traitor!" I cry out, and Chloe moans in response to my confession. She’s mind-broken already…

Jordan’s breath is getting laboured. He seems much more worked up than usual… this whole scene maybe… he licks his lips. "What else?"

"I'm a converted dyke. A... a cock-hungry slut who recruits other lesbians for you."

A particularly powerful thrust is the positive reinforcement that tells me he likes my answer. My toes curl. My eyes roll back into my skull. "And what did you give up for this, whore?"

"Everything," I say. "My identity, my politics, my autonomy..."

"Your reproductive autonomy most of all," he says, and my pussy clenches involuntarily around him.

That's the crux of it, isn't it? Not just that I let him fuck me, but that I've surrendered even the most basic control over my own body. That I wait for his permission to take birth control. That some primitive part of me gets wet at the thought of him deciding to breed me.

Chloe's second orgasm, when it comes, is violent. She screams—actually screams—in a way she never did with me. The sound of her complete surrender to cock destroys something in me. Or maybe completes my destruction.

Ethan grunts, obviously close himself. "Where should I—"

"Inside," Jordan answers for Chloe. "She needs to learn that her cunt belongs to men now."

I hear Ethan's groan of release, followed by Chloe's whimper of submission. The knowledge that she's taking his cum, that she's been claimed just as I was, sends me spiraling toward my own orgasm.

"Not yet," Jordan says. "You don't get to cum until you thank me."

"Thank you, Master!" I shout immediately. I won’t be able to teeter long on this edge. I won’t… can’t…

"For what?"

"For straightening me out! For showing me what I really am! For letting me help convert other women!"

"And?"

I frown, searching for what he wants to hear. Then it clicks.

"Thank you for owning my body. For deciding when I can take birth control. For having the power to breed me whenever you want."

"Better," he says.

And then, he speeds up.

My muscles contract around Jordan's cock as my back arches off the bed. The intensity of it all takes my breath away. That familiar intrusive thought returns—stronger than ever. The fantasy that's been building for weeks, growing more insistent each time Jordan fucks me.

"Please, Sir," I beg between ragged breaths. "You've broken me completely. Straightened me out. I recruited an ex-gf for you, just like you wanted. I've been so good, haven't I? I've earned... I think I've earned..."

"Earned what?" His voice is dangerously soft.

"The right to beg," I whisper. "Please, Sir. I know I don't deserve to ask, but... please cum inside me. Not just to use me, but to... to..."

"Say it."

"To breed me." I say it, at last. "Fill my womb. Knock me up. Make me your babymaking, incubator, pregnant slave girlfriend who everyone will know belongs to you, please please please—"

I've finally said it out loud, the thing that's been consuming my thoughts for weeks. My body trembles beneath him, waiting for his response. My will cowers beneath is. My womb acknowledges its rightful owner.

Jordan's eyes darken with something primal. His hands grip my hips harder, fingers digging into my flesh as his thrusts suddenly become deeper, more purposeful. Each stroke feels like he's trying to reach something fundamental inside me, to plant himself so deep that I'll never be free of him.

"You want to be knocked up, dyke? You want everyone to see what you've become?"

"Yes," I say, arching up to meet his thrusts. "Please, Sir. I need it. I need you to—"

He silences me with a particularly brutal thrust that makes me see stars. This isn't like our other times. This is claiming. This is conquest at its most basic level.

Beside us, I'm dimly aware of Chloe whimpering through a third orgasm, but she feels distant, unimportant. All that matters is Jordan above me, inside me, about to make the most permanent decision about my body without my input.

His breathing becomes ragged. I recognize the signs—the way his rhythm falters slightly, the tension in his shoulders, the way his cock seems to swell even larger inside me. He's close.

"Fuck," he growls, and then louder, "FUCK!"

He drives into me one final time, burying himself to the hilt as his orgasm overtakes him.

"You're mine now. No more pills. You're going to be my good, straight, pregnant slave girlfriend. Now you can cum, gender traitor!"

I become unwound just as he does. My body becomes taut, like a violin string, and a desperate moan of brain-shattering pleasure is ripped from my throat, at the same time as Master begins emptying himself inside me. I feel every single spurt of his cum flooding my unprotected womb. He doesn't pull out, doesn't give me even the option of minimising the risk. Just holds himself deep inside me as he fills me up completely.

The weight of what's happening crashes over me. He's breeding me.

The trailind end of this cataclysmic orgasm tears through me with devastating force. I convulse beneath him, my pussy milking the last drops of cum from his cock desperately and greedily.

He's marking me, claiming me, breeding me—and I have no say in any of it.

The last vestige of the lesbian feminist I used to be crumbles to dust. In her place is just... this. Jordan's property. A converted dyke knocked up by her tamer.

"Thank you," I whisper, and I mean it from the depth of my soul. "Thank you, Sir."

He stays inside me for I don’t know how long, making sure his seed has the best chance of taking root. Or perhaps, just contemplating the extent of my sexual annihilation. When he finally withdraws, I instinctively close my legs, as if to prevent any cum from leaking out.

"Good girl," he says approvingly. "We'll get you a pregnancy test in a few weeks. And if this doesn't take, we'll just keep trying until it does."

The casualness of his tone—like he's discussing dinner plans rather than fundamentally altering my life—makes my pussy clench again.

"Ethan," Jordan calls out, still catching his breath. "You finished with Chloe?"

"Yeah, man," comes the reply. "She's, uh, she's pretty out of it."

I turn my head to see Chloe sprawled on the floor, legs spread, Ethan's cum visibly leaking from her well-fucked pussy. Her eyes are glazed, staring at nothing, processing what just happened to her.

That's the look of a woman discovering she's not who she thought she was.

Not a human being. Not the master of her fate or her body. Just a lesser creature, a life support system for the holes required to pleasure cock. Maybe she’ll end up pregnant too, if we give Ethan enough time. And why not? After all, her and I are just women.

We don’t have it in us to disobey our lords and masters.

THE END