Coming within a day on Amazon.com, a special Holiday edition of The Trials of Anaïs: Part Three: Pregnant, Naked, and Bound in the Snow — A Holiday Tale
Here's an extended sneak-peek exclusive to Preggophilia members. Hit me up with a PM and I will send you another portion! And please consider supporting my creative work at Amazon.com
Chapter One: Six Pregnancies
Anaïs, in her eighth month of her sixth pregnancy as a submissive to her beloved Dom, sat on the cold basement floor, her mouth open and tongue out. She could hear her Dom walking upstairs, but so far he had made no move to come downstairs and use her mouth, cunt, tits, or asshole for his pleasure. She was, as she had always been every minute of every day and night for more than five years, naked.
She felt some of his cum ooze from her hormone-teased cunt as she sat with her legs folded under her, her distended belly drooping between her thighs. He’d taken her about two hours ago, so she knew he would return to use her again soon.
Sometimes she prepared herself and waited for just a few minutes, timing her position for his arrival and training almost perfectly. Sometimes, worried she might miss his arrival, she prepared herself and sat for hours in the display position at the bottom of the basement stairs. Always with her mouth open and tongue out, ready for his cock.
Since he used her day and night every three hours or so, she never waited too long for him to come down stairs and fuck her. Chilled, naked, but hopeful and ready to offer her enormous, sweeping, pregnant belly for his enjoyment, Anaïs waited on the cold floor.
Trained by him to keep her mouth open and tongue out, she was always ready to take his cock in her mouth, or between her massive, milk-heavy tits, or into her asshole, or deep into her hungry cunt almost hidden by her huge, round, pregnant belly.
Once she began to show that full, ample belly of her pregnancy, her Dom trained and fucked her — and invited his close and casual friends to fuck her — almost without pause.
Was there a time when, as an adult, she could not remember a time when she had not lived in this basement, the submissive flesh and servile property — what more appropriate word than property? — of her Dom.
When was she not a kept bit of fuckery, kept nearly always pregnant?
She had trouble remembering a time before, a time when her Dom did not possess her and safeguard her. She had trouble remembering many things. Her Dom filled her head with new lessons, new ways to service him, so older memories faded.
She was near the end of her sixth pregnancy with her Dom, but that meant nothing as a way to mark the years. No sooner had her Dom removed her burden as it slipped from her widened, burning cunt than he began fucking her to make her pregnant again. In all the time of her six pregnancies, she had not been pregnant a total of, perhaps, five months.
When he resumed fucking her after she delivered, her Dom did not care that her cunt was sore and gaping and loose. He didn’t care that her body still ached. Her aches and pains meant nothing to her Dom. She ached from delivering his progeny without the benefit of medical professionals, medicine, or a delivery room.
Her bed now bore permanent stains from five previous deliveries. Stains seeped into and darkened the bedspread, single thin blanket, and threadbare sheets. Her Dom never bothered to provide her with fresh linens.
A few deliveries ago, Anaïs learned to expect to be used throughout her labor. Before her last delivery she’d trained her asshole to accept the biggest cock of her Dom’s friends, even at the very moment her Dom’s issue slipped mewling from her gaping, tender cunt.
Her Dom meant to keep her pregnant almost constantly, to enjoy her full, round belly and smack his cock against it, shoot his cum on it, and slap it with his hands to feel its tautness.
He kept her, she knew, because she would be round and full and jutting with her firm belly that hardened his cock.
As she sat on her knees at the bottom of the stairs, mouth open and ready, she breathed steadily and daydreamed of her Dom’s cock running into every one of her accommodating holes. It was a memory as much as a daydream.
She could recall being taken in her asshole, cunt, and mouth many times even just within the past days. Her Dom’s cum filled her cunt and asshole almost without interruption, which is why she oozed his cum even now, in display position, her cunt leaking its precious nectar onto the chilly basement floor.
Then, a fleeting thought: she struggled to recall the outdoors. She’d known and walked in the outdoors during her three years in college, hadn’t she? The time before her Dom rescued her from that unsteady path into a sedate and predictable life, a life of safety servicing his cock.
He’d rescued her, tucked her in his van, placed her in a dark cloth bag so nobody could know she was at his home, and brought her here to the security of his basement.
He saved her, he said, from a stale and miserable life and from all those who might wish to do her harm. One of his many gifts to her was her rescue, he said. Each donation of his cum was a gift, too, he said. Cum on her face. Cum on her food. In her hair. In her mouth, cunt, and asshole. Cum on her huge, ripe belly. Each a gift.
He’d given her freedom, too, he said. She’d been free to enjoy the bed, the small kitchen area, an even smaller bathroom area with both a shower and a claw-footed tub. She’d been completely free to watch the many extreme porn DVDs and all the little touches of elegance and pleasure her Dom provided.
In return, all he asked — such a trivial demand, really — was that she give her body to him for his pleasure every day and every night, anytime he descended the basement stairs to use her. This was such a trifling thing for her to give, he explained, since he carried the burden of feeding her, housing her, and — most of all — protecting her.
When he wasn’t using her cunt, asshole, tits, and mouth, he was standing guard, he said, to protect her and keep her hidden from those who might wish to harm her. That protection was also a gift.
He was a generous Dom, Anaïs realized. Sometime in the past she’d become accustomed to servicing her Dom’s cock. Then she’d grown to worship his cock.
She knew every part of his flesh, rigid and painful in her asshole, the head soft and filling in her throat, his balls slapping at the bottom of her cunt as he plowed into her.
Now she could not function without the feeling of being stuffed, fucked, used, and abused by him, by his glorious cock, many times every day and night. He’d provided the bed, good food, delicious beverages, art supplies, the DVDs, and his cock.
What more could she want?
Clothes?
What was the point?
She learned to deal with the slight chill of the basement this time of year. None of his friends seemed eager to have her in clothes when they came for their visits, to fuck her in her mouth, to fuck her tits, to fuck her tight cunt and fuck her even tighter asshole.
Her Dom never ordered her to wear clothes. He always wanted to be able to reach her cunt and asshole — and to a lesser extent, her tits — so clothes were an extravagance. He explained, too, that she saved him money by going without clothes and shoes.
This made sense; she was already a tremendous financial burden, she knew, with three filling meals, snacks, and beverages every day. And then the various devices and tools he needed to use upon her, to test her limits.
He alone had to pay for the anal plugs, riding crops, the short bullwhip, those handcuffs, and silky ropes. He alone had to research and buy the amazing pear-shaped butt plug that expanded inside her tiny asshole, to lock itself into place and train her to accept pain and a much wider asshole.
She wore no clothes as one of the few gifts she could give her Dom. She smiled, understanding how she needed to do more for her Dom. Worshiping his cock was only a beginning. She must make her Dom a better gift, she thought. She would try to give more of herself to him, and to his friends. She would make the most of every moment when he visited, to please him with every part of her body.
Yes.
She would show her gratitude with her body. She would never ask him for anything, she decided. Her body would be her gift to him.
Still, the memory of the outdoors nagged at her as she sat, hands resting on her thighs, her small hands barely fitting on the tops of her generous thighs because her pregnant belly pushed them to the side. Her belly was huge. It filled the space between her splayed, folded legs. When she stood or sat, she needed time to maneuver as though her pregnant belly was a river barge moving under a tugboat’s tenuous control.
The huge, inviting belly of Anaïs drove her Dom to heights of sexual frenzy. He used her when they were alone and used her harder when his friends came over to put her through her paces.
She was his to display. It was only right.
Her majestic, pregnant belly was alluring, inviting, mysterious, and intoxicating. Her belly hardened men’s cocks and turned their balls into cum-spewing fountains.
She’d become accustomed to taking seven or eight large-cocked men at a single session, yielding her cunt, asshole, tits, mouth, and both hands to them in her desperate attempts to satisfy them all. She’d become accustomed to being awash in musky cum, to seeing her round belly marked and blazed and sprayed with cum.
Her mind linked that thought to the outdoors. Had she ever been fucked by a man outdoors? She couldn’t remember. In the time before her Dom, had she been fucked by men on the campus of the dingy little college where she’d wasted three years of her life trying to fill her head with serious thoughts?
Surely she’d been fucked by men before sequestering in her Dom’s basement. She must have been. It was her duty to be fucked by men. She knew that much at least. Men had cocks. She had a cunt, and an ugly one at that. Her Dom told her so.
Cunts were for cocks, he’d told her. Her cunt was meant to be filled with cock as often as possible, to please men. She existed to satisfy men and their cocks.
Another of his gifts: he cured her of the thought that she somehow was an equal to men and their cocks. She was doomed to have a cunt, and so she was meant to service cocks.
But to service them outdoors? She couldn’t remember.
Here's an extended sneak-peek exclusive to Preggophilia members. Hit me up with a PM and I will send you another portion! And please consider supporting my creative work at Amazon.com
Chapter One: Six Pregnancies
Anaïs, in her eighth month of her sixth pregnancy as a submissive to her beloved Dom, sat on the cold basement floor, her mouth open and tongue out. She could hear her Dom walking upstairs, but so far he had made no move to come downstairs and use her mouth, cunt, tits, or asshole for his pleasure. She was, as she had always been every minute of every day and night for more than five years, naked.
She felt some of his cum ooze from her hormone-teased cunt as she sat with her legs folded under her, her distended belly drooping between her thighs. He’d taken her about two hours ago, so she knew he would return to use her again soon.
Sometimes she prepared herself and waited for just a few minutes, timing her position for his arrival and training almost perfectly. Sometimes, worried she might miss his arrival, she prepared herself and sat for hours in the display position at the bottom of the basement stairs. Always with her mouth open and tongue out, ready for his cock.
Since he used her day and night every three hours or so, she never waited too long for him to come down stairs and fuck her. Chilled, naked, but hopeful and ready to offer her enormous, sweeping, pregnant belly for his enjoyment, Anaïs waited on the cold floor.
Trained by him to keep her mouth open and tongue out, she was always ready to take his cock in her mouth, or between her massive, milk-heavy tits, or into her asshole, or deep into her hungry cunt almost hidden by her huge, round, pregnant belly.
Once she began to show that full, ample belly of her pregnancy, her Dom trained and fucked her — and invited his close and casual friends to fuck her — almost without pause.
Was there a time when, as an adult, she could not remember a time when she had not lived in this basement, the submissive flesh and servile property — what more appropriate word than property? — of her Dom.
When was she not a kept bit of fuckery, kept nearly always pregnant?
She had trouble remembering a time before, a time when her Dom did not possess her and safeguard her. She had trouble remembering many things. Her Dom filled her head with new lessons, new ways to service him, so older memories faded.
She was near the end of her sixth pregnancy with her Dom, but that meant nothing as a way to mark the years. No sooner had her Dom removed her burden as it slipped from her widened, burning cunt than he began fucking her to make her pregnant again. In all the time of her six pregnancies, she had not been pregnant a total of, perhaps, five months.
When he resumed fucking her after she delivered, her Dom did not care that her cunt was sore and gaping and loose. He didn’t care that her body still ached. Her aches and pains meant nothing to her Dom. She ached from delivering his progeny without the benefit of medical professionals, medicine, or a delivery room.
Her bed now bore permanent stains from five previous deliveries. Stains seeped into and darkened the bedspread, single thin blanket, and threadbare sheets. Her Dom never bothered to provide her with fresh linens.
A few deliveries ago, Anaïs learned to expect to be used throughout her labor. Before her last delivery she’d trained her asshole to accept the biggest cock of her Dom’s friends, even at the very moment her Dom’s issue slipped mewling from her gaping, tender cunt.
Her Dom meant to keep her pregnant almost constantly, to enjoy her full, round belly and smack his cock against it, shoot his cum on it, and slap it with his hands to feel its tautness.
He kept her, she knew, because she would be round and full and jutting with her firm belly that hardened his cock.
As she sat on her knees at the bottom of the stairs, mouth open and ready, she breathed steadily and daydreamed of her Dom’s cock running into every one of her accommodating holes. It was a memory as much as a daydream.
She could recall being taken in her asshole, cunt, and mouth many times even just within the past days. Her Dom’s cum filled her cunt and asshole almost without interruption, which is why she oozed his cum even now, in display position, her cunt leaking its precious nectar onto the chilly basement floor.
Then, a fleeting thought: she struggled to recall the outdoors. She’d known and walked in the outdoors during her three years in college, hadn’t she? The time before her Dom rescued her from that unsteady path into a sedate and predictable life, a life of safety servicing his cock.
He’d rescued her, tucked her in his van, placed her in a dark cloth bag so nobody could know she was at his home, and brought her here to the security of his basement.
He saved her, he said, from a stale and miserable life and from all those who might wish to do her harm. One of his many gifts to her was her rescue, he said. Each donation of his cum was a gift, too, he said. Cum on her face. Cum on her food. In her hair. In her mouth, cunt, and asshole. Cum on her huge, ripe belly. Each a gift.
He’d given her freedom, too, he said. She’d been free to enjoy the bed, the small kitchen area, an even smaller bathroom area with both a shower and a claw-footed tub. She’d been completely free to watch the many extreme porn DVDs and all the little touches of elegance and pleasure her Dom provided.
In return, all he asked — such a trivial demand, really — was that she give her body to him for his pleasure every day and every night, anytime he descended the basement stairs to use her. This was such a trifling thing for her to give, he explained, since he carried the burden of feeding her, housing her, and — most of all — protecting her.
When he wasn’t using her cunt, asshole, tits, and mouth, he was standing guard, he said, to protect her and keep her hidden from those who might wish to harm her. That protection was also a gift.
He was a generous Dom, Anaïs realized. Sometime in the past she’d become accustomed to servicing her Dom’s cock. Then she’d grown to worship his cock.
She knew every part of his flesh, rigid and painful in her asshole, the head soft and filling in her throat, his balls slapping at the bottom of her cunt as he plowed into her.
Now she could not function without the feeling of being stuffed, fucked, used, and abused by him, by his glorious cock, many times every day and night. He’d provided the bed, good food, delicious beverages, art supplies, the DVDs, and his cock.
What more could she want?
Clothes?
What was the point?
She learned to deal with the slight chill of the basement this time of year. None of his friends seemed eager to have her in clothes when they came for their visits, to fuck her in her mouth, to fuck her tits, to fuck her tight cunt and fuck her even tighter asshole.
Her Dom never ordered her to wear clothes. He always wanted to be able to reach her cunt and asshole — and to a lesser extent, her tits — so clothes were an extravagance. He explained, too, that she saved him money by going without clothes and shoes.
This made sense; she was already a tremendous financial burden, she knew, with three filling meals, snacks, and beverages every day. And then the various devices and tools he needed to use upon her, to test her limits.
He alone had to pay for the anal plugs, riding crops, the short bullwhip, those handcuffs, and silky ropes. He alone had to research and buy the amazing pear-shaped butt plug that expanded inside her tiny asshole, to lock itself into place and train her to accept pain and a much wider asshole.
She wore no clothes as one of the few gifts she could give her Dom. She smiled, understanding how she needed to do more for her Dom. Worshiping his cock was only a beginning. She must make her Dom a better gift, she thought. She would try to give more of herself to him, and to his friends. She would make the most of every moment when he visited, to please him with every part of her body.
Yes.
She would show her gratitude with her body. She would never ask him for anything, she decided. Her body would be her gift to him.
Still, the memory of the outdoors nagged at her as she sat, hands resting on her thighs, her small hands barely fitting on the tops of her generous thighs because her pregnant belly pushed them to the side. Her belly was huge. It filled the space between her splayed, folded legs. When she stood or sat, she needed time to maneuver as though her pregnant belly was a river barge moving under a tugboat’s tenuous control.
The huge, inviting belly of Anaïs drove her Dom to heights of sexual frenzy. He used her when they were alone and used her harder when his friends came over to put her through her paces.
She was his to display. It was only right.
Her majestic, pregnant belly was alluring, inviting, mysterious, and intoxicating. Her belly hardened men’s cocks and turned their balls into cum-spewing fountains.
She’d become accustomed to taking seven or eight large-cocked men at a single session, yielding her cunt, asshole, tits, mouth, and both hands to them in her desperate attempts to satisfy them all. She’d become accustomed to being awash in musky cum, to seeing her round belly marked and blazed and sprayed with cum.
Her mind linked that thought to the outdoors. Had she ever been fucked by a man outdoors? She couldn’t remember. In the time before her Dom, had she been fucked by men on the campus of the dingy little college where she’d wasted three years of her life trying to fill her head with serious thoughts?
Surely she’d been fucked by men before sequestering in her Dom’s basement. She must have been. It was her duty to be fucked by men. She knew that much at least. Men had cocks. She had a cunt, and an ugly one at that. Her Dom told her so.
Cunts were for cocks, he’d told her. Her cunt was meant to be filled with cock as often as possible, to please men. She existed to satisfy men and their cocks.
Another of his gifts: he cured her of the thought that she somehow was an equal to men and their cocks. She was doomed to have a cunt, and so she was meant to service cocks.
But to service them outdoors? She couldn’t remember.
