Chapter 56: Gena's back arches as the Bull's tongue spears into her tight hole, his nose grinding against her swollen clit while Amy sinks down onto his thick length with a guttural moan. 'Oh fuck, he's so deep,' Amy whimpers, her hands gripping Gena's hips for balance as she rides him, her tight cunt stretching obscenely around his girth. Gena's moans turn into screams as the Bull's tongue fucks her faster, her juices dripping down his chin while Amy's nails dig into her daughter's flesh, their shared plea
The ache in my belly was a dull, familiar throb, a hollowed-out feeling that came after the intense pressure of birth. The sheets were still damp beneath us, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sweet, cloying scent of milk. Our first litter—small, mewling things with dark, knowing eyes—had been taken away to some other part of the suite, their absence a physical weight in the room.
Gena lay beside me, her body glistening with sweat, the silver ring on her finger catching the soft, golden light. She turned her head, her long hair splayed across the pillow. "It never gets easier, does it?" she whispered, her voice raspy from screaming.
Before I could answer, the door opened. The Bull filled the frame, his shadow swallowing the light. He moved into the room with a predator's grace, his gaze fixed on us. He was already hard, his cock jutting out from his body, thick and veined and demanding.
"No rest for the wicked," he grunted, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the floor.
My body responded before my mind could protest, a fresh slickness gathering between my thighs. Gena shifted, a hungry look in her eyes. She sat up, her full breasts swaying, nipples peaked and ready.
"Come on, Mom," she said, her hand reaching for mine. "He needs us again."
We moved to the edge of the bed, our legs shaky. The Bull didn't wait. He pushed me down onto the plush rug, the fibers soft against my back. Gena knelt beside me, her hand on my stomach, over the stretched skin that still felt loose and empty.
"Look at you," The Bull growled, his knees nudging my thighs apart. "My perfect broodmares. Always ready for my seed."
His cockhead pressed against my entrance, and I gasped. It was so much, so soon after the tearing pain of childbirth. But my body opened for him, wet and willing, a traitor to my own exhaustion.
"Fuck, you're still so tight," he groaned, driving into me with a single, brutal thrust.
I cried out, my back arching. The stretch was exquisite, a burning fullness that obliterated everything else. Gena leaned over, her nipple brushing my lips. "Suck, Mom," she urged. "It helps."
I took her into my mouth, the taste of her milk sweet and comforting. The Bull began to move, his hips pounding into me with a rhythm that was both punishment and worship. Each thrust jolted through me, hitting deep, making my cunt clench around his invading length.
"That's it," he snarled, his hands gripping my hips, holding me still for his assault. "Take every fucking inch. You're going to swell with my children again. I can feel it."
Gena's fingers found my clit, rubbing rough, frantic circles. "Come for him, Amy," she whispered, her breath hot in my ear. "Let him feel you come. It makes his cum shoot deeper."
I was losing control, my body convulsing around him. The pleasure was a sharp, blinding thing, coiling tight in my belly. "I'm... I'm gonna..."
"Come, you slut," The Bull commanded, his pace becoming frantic, animalistic.
My orgasm ripped through me, a raw, screaming release that left me trembling. He grunted, his own release hot and sudden, flooding me with his seed. I felt it, a pulsing, living heat that seemed to settle deep in my womb.
He pulled out, his cock slick and glistening. He turned to Gena. "Your turn."
She was already on her hands and knees, presenting herself to him. He didn't hesitate. He entered her from behind, one hand fisted in her hair, the other on her hip. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room.
"Your cunt was made for this," he grunted into her ear. "To be bred. To be filled."
"Yes," Gena moaned, pushing back against him. "Fill me up. I want it. I want to carry your children forever."
I watched, my own body still throbbing, as he took her with the same relentless energy. This was our cycle now. Birth, feed, breed. An endless loop of creation and consumption. The rings on our fingers felt like shackles, beautiful and binding.
He came inside her with a roar, his seed spilling out to mix with the remnants of mine on the rug. He collapsed between us, his heavy body a furnace of heat.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of our ragged breathing. Then Gena reached for my hand, her fingers intertwining with mine. Our rings clicked together.
"He's right, you know," she said softly, her eyes dark with a mixture of love and despair. "This is what we are now."
I looked at our joined hands, then at The Bull's satisfied form. The emptiness in my belly was already being replaced by a new, familiar hunger. I could feel it starting again, the subtle shift inside me, the promise of new life taking root.
And I knew, with a chilling certainty, that it would never end.