Felicity glared at me, clearly close to tears. ‘Why don’t you breed then?’ she snapped furiously, waving an arm at me. ‘You’re a traitor to all women. Why aren’t you in chains, producing babies for our so-called masters? Why does it only apply to me?’
I set my teeth firmly, suddenly furious myself. This wasn’t the first time that someone had suggested I should be a breeder but it got under my skin. How dared this improvident slut suggest that I was anything like her?
‘Bring her over to the bed,’ I said, standing abruptly and gesturing to the guards.
Jessie delights in preparing her fellow women for their forced breeding…
In a patriarchal dystopia, Jessie loves her job turning reluctant women into captive slaves known as ‘breeders’. In a near-future world, she works for the Breeding Commission, a government agency entrusted with the task of ensuring that all women comply with new compulsory breeding mandates.
Jessie is devoted to the task of detaining women who refuse to work or breed – and incarcerating them at the state-run breeding factories. Her work becomes even more fulfilling when she is given the unique opportunity to supply new breeders to the wealthy and popular politician, Lord Adrian Augustus, for his pleasure and research.
Adrian can be a good friend but he is also a cruel master – and he enjoys nothing more than fucking and breeding unwilling women. A long-time hero of hers, Jessie is immediately smitten with him. But in working for Lord Augustus, Jessie’s own secrets are about to catch up with her…
Jessie’s Dilemma is the first release in new erotic cycle called The Breeding Commission.
Jessie’s Dilemma is on the darker side of my releases, featuring heavy non-consent, female submission, patriarchy, impregnation and lactation and gender betrayal.
Jessie’s Dilemma: Chapter 2
[Jessie’s Dilemma contains heavy non-consent erotica, female submission, virginity, patriarchy, impregnation and lactation and gender betrayal. All characters are fictional and over 18. Chapter 1 is here.]
‘Bring her over to the bed,’ I said, standing abruptly and gesturing to the guards.
The big men were happy to comply. We employ guards who will obey any order, either because of ideological conviction or for mercenary objectives. These two men were among the nastier of our security team. I knew they liked watching the girls humiliated and degraded.
Usually before I bring a girl across to the bed and strip them, I have a little spiel about how she should be happy she is now contributing to society.
Usually, I try to convince each new girl about the importance of her work here and how she will be happier providing babies for society than living a rough and ready existence outside.
I think it’s part of my pastoral care to remind the girls that they’ll be better off here. If only more young women were drawn to serve as breeders and milkers, the work of the Breeding Commission would be much easier.
Today, I realised that I didn’t really care anymore. I can’t understand why selfish sluts like Felicity Carpenter don’t just do the right thing for society. Instead, she had been rude and offensive, and now — although I couldn’t really admit this to myself — I wanted her to suffer as much as possible.
Sometimes I make the girls strip themselves while the guards and I watch but today I was in a hurry. I stripped her myself, roughly and quickly, making sure to trail my hands across her skin so she realised that her body wasn’t her own any more.
Soon, Felicity was standing in front of me butt naked, a guard still holding her by either one of her forearms. I kicked the remains of her clothes away for the cleaners to tidy up later. I had cut them off her with scissors, stripping her as efficiently as possible.
The breeders don’t wear clothes — why would they, when their only purpose is to produce milk and babies, and spread their legs for the men who pay to use them?
Felicity would learn that soon enough.
Standing back, I considered her figure. This is a skill that intake workers like me hone to perfection — assessing on the basis of some medical reports and a physical examination where a girl will be best assigned.
This girl was tall enough and strong, with large hips that would probably grow bigger as she was bred. Her breasts really were the best thing about her — even though she was only in her early twenties, they were full and round, each tipped with an eager pink nipple.
‘I think the slut looks like a jersey cow, don’t you?’ I asked the guards, deliberately using offensive language. ‘With those big udders, clearly she was designed to produce milk as well as babies.’
I’ve found that talking about the girls in front of them, using the most offensive terms possible, helps them to readjust to their new status. They learn to comply more quickly if we treat them from the start how they will be treated going forward on the floor of the breeding factories.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ the guard on Felicity’s right-hand side agreed with a snigger. ‘You sending her to Dairy Lane?’
His eyes met mine, the amusement in them showing clearly that he knew I was punishing the slut and that he approved. Cruel men like him love Dairy Lane and they love it especially when a new girl arrives.
Dairy Lane is the guards’ shorthand for the breeding factory that focuses on milk production. It’s one of the more unpleasant breeding factories. Some of the factories cater to wealthier clients and treat the breeders almost as if they were concubines. But not Dairy Lane — girls there are herded into stalls side-by-side, forced to spend their days on their hands and knees like cows, and treated with additional supplements to make their breasts grow bigger and produce more milk.
I knew that in as short a space as half a year, Felicity’s breasts would each be larger than a basketball, hanging heavy with milk down from her torso, kept nearly permanently in suction cups as she was forced to produce milk every hour of the day.
Her belly would be round with her first baby by then and she would have lost track of the days and weeks, every hour of each day filled with men lining up to use her available holes.
I didn’t think I was being vindictive in sending her to Dairy Lane. She had big tits and she was clearly stupid, so the crowded breeding factory down by the river would be perfect for her. Her bad attitude meant that I couldn’t send her to a more upper class house but Dairy Lane would keep her in line.
I stepped up to her and stroked her breasts, massaging and squeezing. They really were delightful mammaries, I thought, assessing her with a critical eye as she gasped to feel me touching her so intimately. She tried to shrink away from me but the guards knew their jobs and they held her firmly for me to touch.
‘Yes,’ I said shortly, agreeing with the guard. ‘She’s perfect for Dairy Lane. You’ll be a jersey cow from now on,’ I said to her, finishing my assessment of her breasts by squeezing her nipples tightly and tugging hard so that she gasped again.
I threw the guard a quick smile and he winked at me.
‘Maybe Joseph will see you there?’ I said, making notations on my tablet. The big guard was a frequent visitor at the cheap dockside establishment, I knew.
‘She certainly will,’ the man chuckled, winking at me again, and the girl shuddered softly, whimpering to herself as she tried to flinch away from him. ‘I got an award there only last month,’ he smirked, and the other guard sniggered with him. ‘The most impregnations in the last twelve months. I’ll get my name on the plaque on the wall and everything.’
‘Oh, congratulations,’ I smiled at him, while the girl trembled in front of me. ‘That’s a huge achievement.’
I think sometimes, obsessed with the need to acquire more women to breed, we forget the contribution that the men play. We would be nowhere without their continual willingness to step up and be counted, to provide their sperm to solve the population crisis.
I looked at the shivering girl standing in front of me and wished suddenly that she could see it the way I did. Men like Joshua did their part too and they worked a nine to five week as well. Girls like her needed to just stop complaining about it — she was going to get free board and food for the next twenty years, what else did she want?
‘Get her on the bed, would you?’ I said, enjoying how her eyes widened as the men pulled her roughly backwards, manhandling her easily up onto the sturdy frame bed. The guards strapped her down effectively, ignoring her helpless cries.
I ignored her. I’m used to this by now and honestly I enjoy it when the girls finally learn that they’re in our power now. I took the compulsory blood tests and then I moved down between her legs to conduct my examination of her vagina.
She had a pretty cunt with a tight little hole. I slid a finger into her first and then I spread her labia before inserting a dilator deep into her and opening her vagina up for inspection.
‘Have a look inside the bitch,’ I offered to the guards, and they were more than happy to peer into her insides, smirking as she cried out and begged us to stop.
I believe in supporting my colleagues and I know that guards who are given the occasional treat and treated like one of the team will be more loyal to the Commission.
‘She’s nice and clean,’ I said, prodding at her exposed cervix with my broad examination paddle. ‘No cum inside the bitch, more’s the shame.’
She could feel me prodding at her, I knew. I always like to make sure the girls can feel it when I do the inspections — it reminds them how unimportant they are now. I’m always a bit rougher when I can tell that a girl hasn’t had sex in a while. If they can’t be bothered to work for a living, they could at least spread their legs for men to enjoy.
The guards sniggered at the sight of me poking my paddle against the girl’s cervix.
‘Well, she’ll have plenty of cum inside her soon,’ Harris, the younger of the men smirked, resting his hand comfortably on her restrained knee as if it was part of the office furniture.
‘She sure will,’ I agreed. ‘I’ll leave her like that for a bit while I settle up the paperwork. Call Dr Leonard for his assessment, please?’
I ratcheted the dilator open wider and I heard Felicity’s quick intake of breath as I stretched her uncomfortably wide. I smiled in satisfaction — the assessment didn’t need her to be this wide open and I was finished anyway but it was good for her to learn what her hole was for.
Each baby she delivered would stretch her wider than this, not to mention that sometimes the men would get the supervisors’ permission to stretch her wide open just so they could have a look and then cum inside her by splashing themselves directly into her forcibly opened entrance.
She should thank me, I thought vindictively, knowing she never would. Actually, the acute cocktail of fertility and lactation medicines they feed the breeders mean they aren’t aware of much once they’ve had one or two babies. That’s fine by me — the men prefer them like that anyway and these women weren’t worth much to start with.
I knew I was being cruel leaving Felicity with her cunt spread open while I finished the paperwork. She lay crying on the bed, unable to move with her hands in cuffs by her side and her torso held down by broad straps. Her feet and knees were restrained wide open, presenting anyone who walked into the room a perfect view of her exposed entrance.
I smiled to myself as I heard her cry, the sound making me hornier. Damn, I love torturing the new girls just about more than anything else.
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It’s not a manifesto
I write a lot of M/f non-consent erotica, including enslavement of women, degradation and forced breeding. My stories are not your manifesto or anyone else’s. They are not an expression of how the world should be. Everything I write should stay in the hot world of fiction and play. It should absolutely not become part of the real world.
© Pixie Isobella
Pixie Isobella 