From suits to chains

I slammed the door on Rachel's tear-streaked face, her pleas bouncing off my back like worthless echoes. Prison had cracked me open, revealed the truth—I craved cock, not her soft curves. Harvey was my obsession now, that smug lawyer who'd always danced just out of reach. I tracked him to his penthouse, waited in the shadows until he stepped out for his evening scotch run. One chloroform rag later, his limp body slumped into my van. I drove to the abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city, my cock already throbbing at the thought of breaking him.

Dragging Harvey's dead weight inside, I chained his ankles to a rusted pipe. He woke with a groan, eyes wide in the harsh fluorescent light. 'Mike? What the fuck—' His words cut off as I punched his gut, doubling him over. I ripped his suit jacket off, buttons flying, then yanked his shirt open, exposing that toned chest. Pants next—down they went with his boxers, his thick cock flopping free, soft and vulnerable. He thrashed, but I pinned him, knees on his thighs. 'You're mine now, Harvey. My wife.' He spat curses, but I laughed, shoving pink lace panties up his legs, the fabric stretching tight over his ass and balls. The matching bra came next, forcing his arms through straps, snapping it around his back. His body trembled, nipples hardening against the sheer cups. I bound his wrists with rough rope, tight loops biting into skin, pulling them above his head to the chain.

He hung there, feminized and exposed, panties wedged between his ass cheeks, cock straining half-hard against the lace. 'Please, Mike, this is insane,' he whimpered, voice cracking. I grabbed a stale loaf of bread and a bowl of water, shoving them at his face. 'Eat, bitch. This is your life now—bread and water, my cum when you're good.' He turned away, but I gripped his jaw, forcing crust between his lips. He chewed slow, tears mixing with crumbs, swallowing hard. Every whimper fueled my dick, swelling rock-hard in my jeans. I unzipped, pulled out my thick shaft, and slapped it across his panty-covered bulge. 'Look at you, submitting already. Your body's betraying you.'

Days blurred into a haze of control. I kept him bound, feeding him scraps, watching his powerful frame weaken, eyes glazing with defeat. One night, as I jerked my cock over his lace-clad body, I remembered the file—his rare condition, that freak medical anomaly allowing male pregnancy, but only with male seed. Perfect. I unchained his wrists just enough to flip him onto all fours, ass up. 'Time to breed you, wife.' He sobbed, 'No, Mike, I can't—' but I tore the panties aside, exposing his tight pink hole. Spit-lubed my cockhead, I rammed in dry, balls-deep in one thrust. He screamed, asshole clenching around my girth, milking me as I pounded raw.

'Fucking take it,' I growled, hips slamming, cock stretching his guts. His bound hands clawed the dirty floor, body rocking with each brutal fuck. Sweat poured off us, his bra straps snapping loose, tits bouncing. I reached around, yanked his cock through the panties—hard as steel, leaking pre-cum. 'You love this, slut. Carrying my kid.' He moaned brokenly, pushing back now, ass swallowing my dick greedily. I flooded him, hot ropes of cum pumping deep, seeding his womb. Pull out slow, watch my load drip from his gaping hole, panties soaked.

Harvey broke completely after that. Belly swelled quick with my spawn, tits lactating under the bra. I fucked him daily—morning blowjobs on his knees, panties pulled aside; afternoon anal poundings while he begged for more bread; nights bent over, my cock owning his pregnant hole. 'Suck it clean, wife,' I'd order, shoving my shit-smeared dick down his throat after ass-fucking him raw. He'd gag, slobber, swallow every drop, eyes worshipful. Bondage stayed tight—wrists cuffed to bedposts, ankles spread wide for easy access. His submission was total, calling me 'husband,' craving my loads to feed the baby.