He cocked a brow as he gazed back down at me, "So? You cum easy, I don't even have to touch you most of the time."
I frowned, confused, then tentatively informed him, "You know… six weeks ago… You told me I wasn't allowed to orgasm. I was a bad slave wife who couldn't appreciate breakfast. Now I have broken your orders. Please break me, Master." Why had he still not broken me? He should have broken me first, then bred me, but I'd become pregnant within the first few weeks in his bed.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Right. I'll break you later, I'm tired tonight."
"Later? When later? How much later?" I bounced up and down against his lap with hands upon his thighs. My eyes were wide and full of hope. "Soon? How soon?" I didn't realize how much I was annoying him. His eyes were wild, I was bad, I was misbehaving. I had orgasmed, hadn't I? I shouldn't be eager and hopeful.
He struck me, not particularly hard, but enough to send me to the floor. My cheek and jaw hurt where his fist had landed, and my elbow ached where I'd had fallen. What followed was a sudden and desperate moan as the sensations warred within me. My sex clenched again, clenched so hard I thought my stomach might rip itself open. I crawled back to my hands and knees, then sat back onto my heels again with thighs parted. The clench came again, even harder this time, and I lost control. I didn't even need to pee, I thought, but the flood that poured from me belied that thought.
"Nooo…" I cried weakly as I stared at the spreading puddle, "I've been a bad slave wife again. I… I swear I didn't drink much, only a little of Master's water. I was—so—thirsty." The clench came again and more fluid poured from me across the floor. I didn't understand, why couldn't I stop peeing? The pain was growing too, every clench more agonizing than the last, more pleasurable too. My fingers dug into the skin below my navel, and I realized that my firm stomach had sunken. Not entirely, but enough. The two struggling neurons I had left activated and the thought connected. I wasn't peeing—my water had broken. I looked back up at Master, he had turned his back on me and was in the process of fetching a book from the shelf. "Master, your son is coming."
I shuddered again as the contraction tore through my stomach. I'd forgotten the word, contraction, I'd helped numerous mothers give birth. I'd been there countless times, how could I not recognize it within myself? The contraction came again and then instinctively I clenched hard and bore down as my knees spread. Master was only just beginning to turn and face me, his expression not entirely sure. I was a simple, stupid creature after all, I could be mistaken. Was I mistaken? Another contraction wracked my abdomen and I pushed as hard as I could.
The unspoken question was answered for both of us a moment later as I clutched at my bulging sex and clenched one final time. Master's son spilled into my hands without another thought, he was born. I stared down at him, in awe. He was beautiful, filthy and wrinkled, but beautiful. It was all of five seconds before his scrunched little face unscrunched and he let free a wail of freedom. I didn't move at first, couldn't think, Brood hosts weren't supposed to think. Instinct perhaps, or just some latent reason took over. I raised him to my breast, wiped his face clear, and cradled him close. My son, my…
I stared between his legs and felt a touch of confusion. He had no penis, small or large. I parted his thighs and realized—Master had been mistaken. My daughter. No, Master's daughter. I looked up to him again, beaming with adoration and pride. He looked back with disgust. I saw myself in his eyes. I was covered in blood, amniotic fluid, and mucous. Worse, my child was a girl. I felt the emotions radiating from him. Not his Daughter, not our daughter, my daughter. She too would be discarded was was proper. A son might have been useful, not a daughter. He wasn't even hiding his emotions or thoughts.
Proper? No, wait… Me, yes, I'm worthless, just a brood host that can't do anything useful. Not her, not our… my daughter! A sense of horror spread through my mind. Who had I become? How could I let him? How could I think it was right? Why was I even here? I tried to climb to my feet, but there was no strength in my legs. My stomach felt loose and ached as if I had been stabbed, a familiar pain. How many gut wounds had experienced as a child? Right… my childhood. Mother. Why hadn't I thought about mother? Was she wondering where I was? Did she miss me? She never wanted me, I knew that, but near the end she seemed to be happy with me. Why was I still here, in the magi tower? Suppressed thoughts broke free at last as I held my daughter for the first time. I had to protect her, and the delusions had to die.
I hadn't even noticed Brother Fostas leave the room. No, Master. When I looked up, he was gone, though the lingering emotions remained, like a bitter aftertaste in the back of my mind. I crawled toward my bed, a tattered fur in a wooden box on the floor. Why had I been so happy in it? That was no place to nurse a child, yet I couldn't force myself to use his bed. I laid myself down upon the damp fur and curled protectively around my daughter. A few minutes passed as I tried to think and I felt her take my nipple and begin to nurse. The pressure in my breast began to fall immediately and another suppressed tension went away. They were small, barely B cups when full, but they were all I had to feed her with. I stared down at her tiny face and dreamed of the day I would name her. Not yet, I couldn't yet.
Memories surfaced, other things I needed to accomplish. I severed and healed the umbilical, I cleaned her ears, her nose, checked her pulse and breathing. Everything seemed normal I used telekinesis to clean her, as I had no cloth or hot water. I hadn't realized it was something I could even do until I simply—did it. What else could I do? What was I capable of? I had been using Biokinesis for a few weeks now. I could heal, and the adjustments to my metabolism had both saved my life, and the life of my daughter. I needed to think, to remember. What else had he discovered within me?
The door banged open again and he stalked in. His mind was a whirl of emotions and half formed thoughts that I could just barely grasp. He stared at the puddle in the middle of the chamber, then scanned the room for a moment. He didn't even sense my presence, not until his eyes found me in my bed, nursing. I stared back as our eyes met. There was a fresh, strange terror in his eyes that matched the clawing sensation in my aching womb. I had to protect her, I had to keep him away from her!
He approached, slow and casual. His mirthless smile tried to disguise how he felt, it sent cold shivers down my spine. His eyes were darkened, wrapped in strain lines from long hours of hard focus. Why? Had I not served him in every possible capacity? Why did he strain, why was he so unhappy? Why… why did he hate her?
His hand reached for me as he dropped to one knee. My cheek, a familiar and comforting touch. I turned my face into his palm and kissed it, habit, instinct, nature. Whatever the reason, my mind opened to his, absorbed his desire, and surrendered. "M-Master?" I asked, quietly.
He nodded, his dark troubled eyes found some sense of peace at last, "It is time, unto death do we now part." He was in control, that was what mattered. It was over at last.
I shuddered as my eyes turned from his, toward the spear hung over the head of his bed. He stood, slowly, and I followed. He touched my breast and silently took my daughter from me, then laid her back down in the fur. She had fallen asleep already anyway. Would He let me hold her, and nurse her as I die? I felt as if it would be inappropriate to ask. This was his moment, not mine. A final gift I could give him, my everything. The thought made my heart ache and tears flow. I would never again be able to serve him.
