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. The seeding station

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Lutheran Maid, Apr 4, 2018.

. The seeding station 5 5 1votes
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  1. Lutheran Maid

    Lutheran Maid Well-Known Member Author!

    This was definitely the place, the hotel that Eamon had spoken about. It had the same infinity pool looking out over the Mediterranean. it had the same art nouveau features in its architecture. There was the same dismissive bastard in charge of reception that Eamon had showed pictures of from their stay. Carol his wife had booked them in a week in advance of when she was due to ovulate and it had become a three week stay. She needed a beautiful, a perfect kid, a product of the mixed gene pool, handsome and arrogant black male and discerning white female. Of course what she really craved was for a black guy to own them both. But he had to be Mr perfect and with the time to rule Eamon in the way that she had sweet wet dreams about. Such men were rare, so there were these hotels, run by the brotherhood, seeding stations. Carol had come back pregnant. Of course she did. Whilst away on that holiday she had been fucking with half a dozen different black guys, morning noon and night. I asked Eamon, why the fuck were you along then? He blanched, his podgy face draining of blood. Well, that was about commitment wasn't it? You did classes, parent classes, showing that you were ready to raise the other guy's offspring. Whilst your missus was getting her cunt filled, you went and had your brain washed. You went and learned why it was necessary for the skin mix of society to change about face quick time.

    After the taxi dropped us outside the reception I carried the bags in and Emma walked imperiously to the reception desk. She wore the hottest pair of leather pants that you have ever seen. The red leather caressed and followed her hip contours, then back around to hold her pretty bottom so that it moved just so when she walked. Her high heels tilted her posture in that subtle way that accented her arse. Black guys, they liked women with a good butt. Her balcony bra, beneath that flimsy top, it put her tits out on a plate for them. They liked those too apparently. How many months had I tried to resist this place? Fucking months! I'd said that I wanted her to have my kids. She wasn't interested. She's seen Carol's daughter suckling at her breast. I'd begged her not to go with black guys and even become a little insistent about sex at home. But then she reminded me about the new laws. The rape in marriage laws, those set up by that new fucking culture minister, the one who seemed to be pulling certain strings up top. it seemed increasingly easy for a fertile, audacious white wife to get black cock and increasingly hard for a normal married life to proceed. 'If you fail to ask permission to fuck me again, I will, (she emphasised the last two words), report you'. It made me think. It made me think fucking hard. There had been that guy down the street. The one who hadn't been able to constrain himself in the necessary way. They had carted him off.

    Emma handed over our passports and the medical certificates to say that she was clean. She told me to get my dick out when the receptionist asked to see. It was so fucking embarrassing. There, you see? It is small, it is scrunched in the fucking metal cage where it lives 95% of the fucking time. The female receptionist doesn't seem that shocked or that interested. She has seen hundreds of suitably constrained little white cocks. But being locked up and attending as a cuck husband are two of the conditions of this little 'holiday'. Emma hands the key to my cage over. The receptionist says that it is kept in a safe behind reception for emergencies. But he (eh, I am still here, and I have a name thank you!) won't need the key this fortnight. I am apparently to take the luggage up to our room (no fucking porters here friend) and to read my schedule for the week. My wife is meanwhile introduced to Lucien, her 'host' for the stay. He is dressed in immaculate white slacks and an open necked white shirt which makes him look darker still and frankly, yes frankly, fucking beautiful. I look nervously at the receptionist. Lucien has a fucking huge physique. But he won't be the only dude fucking her. They've said that in the promotional video. The receptionist looks back at me irritated and says, 'everyone is health certificated, every other day, stop being vulgar'. Fucking put down. What a fucking put down.

    The room is palatial. It is! No wonder this place costs a fortune. There is a walk in wardrobe where I stow my wife's things and a bed so big you could romp a basket ball team around on it. Beside the bedroom, there is a door to a much smaller room, no more than a single bed space with a little reading light. It is lockable from the master bedroom, so that Emma can decide to either have me watch the seeding or else exclude me. Couples vary it seems. Emma's take on this is simple. If she fancies her host, if she begs for cock from him most nights, then I am to watch. It is simply a way for me to accept what is happening, the rightness of it all. The casual fucks, with other black dudes, well, I might be excluded from those. I step out onto the balcony and look down to the pool. She is there, with Lucien, enjoying a drink. There are other mixed couples everywhere, chatting, flirting, kissing. I can't see a fucking husband in sight.

    I haven't read my schedule properly before a nasty piece of black female work drops by to introduce herself. She is Miss Felicity. I am always to use the Miss term of address. Don't even dream about calling her Felicity. She is dressed in jogging gear. I am to change into mine. We are going to do three miles in the sand. Down at the group, around to the rear of the hotel, by the kitchens, I learn the psychology of this from Mick. He's been here a few days already. They knock you out with a sun and sand boot camp whilst the wives flirt and fuck. The reasoning is that you feel shit, shit about your body, so you are more receptive to the 'messages' that get fed you in the afternoon about fine breeding. We set off. Miss fucking F looks like she could run to the moon and back. We run down to the beach, past where the wives and their bucks are relaxing by the pool. 'they do that on purpose' wheezes Mick beside me, 'so the women can see that you are knackered'. I look across. Christ! The fucker Lucien has just kissed my wife.

    I expected lunch but got none, just water. We eat only in the evening. There is another bout of exercise over what I can only describe as a sand hell assault course. It is fucking hot now. 'you know how hard a woman ovulates when she knows that one male is being put down and the bigger guys are getting free access?' Mick asks. I don't know. Mick does. He has done the reading on the psychology of the place. 'They're teaching them to be bitches...some of them get picked to be paired with a black dude for life'. I think of Lucien, his fucking great paws all over my wife. May be they have profiled him, profiled her and may be they are sizing Emma up for a life long coupling? Shit. As we drink our water, in a huddle on some steps I point out my wife in her hot pants to Mick. He reckons that Lucien will have those off her by early afternoon. 'She'll take the length and fecking cream mate' he told me coldly, 'they always do, never having had a decent fuck before like.' We move on and I am bloody well exhausted. We slump down into the cinema and the first of a series of hypnotic little films start to run. Apparently we are meant to hate ourselves. WE ARE FUCKING WELL MEANT TO HATE OURSELVES FOR OUR COLONIAL PAST. Sorry. But it fucking got my goat. It got my goat especially that discerning, intelligent and emotionally savvy while girls were all correcting that now. The girls, not us, understood the merits of mixing the gene pool up. They've found this tea plantation and the big house. They're rewriting bloody history now, on film, the white memsahib lady taking tea and then touching, kissing, with the black dude in his master duds, out on the verandah. Fuckers like me, just like me, are learning to pick tea.

    Night comes. Thank fuck! It comes at last, the sun dropping out of the sky like a fallen fruit. I'm allowed a bite to eat and told to scrub up and dress smartly in slacks and shirt. I'm to come to the foyer. Emma will decide whether she can be bothered to have me join her. It's like a fucking tea plantation, ex pats club thing. It really is! Emma is wearing a sexy floral dress, short and revealing. I know she will have stockings on beneath. I guess that the fucker Lucien has taken her already. I can see her in the distance and try not to look as though I am pleading. Emma looks relaxed, radiant, exotic even. It's like I have never known her, a posh bitch encountered after I've crawled up from the fields. Miss F approaches and assesses me. Apparently she sometimes sends a husband packing if he doesn't look smart enough. I must have passed, I may see Miss Emma now. We walk over to them with a gin and tonic now supplied and I am warned to thank Lucien politely for fucking her. It is like a grenade has been stuck down my pants. The casual manner in which that was said. Oh...and I am to address every black guy as 'sir'!

    I offer my hand to Lucien when we meet, but he doesn't take it. Mick told me later that handshakes are for equals. 'This is Lucien' said Emma smiling easily 'and this is Fabian'. She gestured towards an equally big black guy who apparently fucks bitches too. I try to measure them but I can't. I can't look them in the eye for more than a micro second. I suspect that something subliminal has been fed into those fucking films that I have ben watching. I find myself looking down, at their legs, their hands, I suppose their fucking crotches too. It is like I am cued to bow to what has been working in and out, relentlessly in and out of Emma.

    'Thank you for looking after my wife today' I whisper to Lucien.

    For a second Emma looks pleased by the civility, but Lucien isn't. He thinks it needs correcting.

    'Thank you for fucking Miss Emma Sir' he insists. Fabian has big fists and he is listening. Fabian is waiting.

    I correct myself. It doesn't seem to shock Emma. Fabian explains,

    'there are no 'wives' here, understood, only mistresses'.

    'Yes sir' I answer. Emma stares at me transfixed. Its as if the goblins got me on the way to the fair and she has been handed back something different. She can't believe how malleable I seem. So we start the small talk, about the coast, the weather, the regime that will keep me busy, about the spa. Well, I say we talk, but I really mean, they talk and I listen. I want to assert things, to say things, but it is as if my brain has been numbed. Emma seems transfixed by the pair of them!

    'Let's go up shall we' said Lucien at last to Emma. He smiled at Fabian, he was invited too. I am instructed to 'attend'.

    My heart was racing then. It was fucking pounding. My mouth was dry like I'd taken more than one mouthful of that fucking hot sand on the course that morning. I followed after them and watched how Lucien held Emma's hand. It was like a fucking date. It was just like a fucking date. Inside the room Emma looked up at him and there in front of me, he kissed her. It wasn't a polite kiss, it was a casual, intimate exploration. She opened her mouth to him and very calmly indeed, he tongued her. Fabian looked at me. He blinked. Something inside my head triggered.

    'Thank you sir' I said, without ever fucking understanding how or why I said it.

    Lucian smiled easily, 'That's alright...would you like to take mistress's panties down for her?'

    'Yes sir' I said. I felt like an automaton. I felt like I was programmed somehow. Shit! How? Fucking hell.

    Emma looked astonished but she quickly regained her composure. She watched as I eased up her dress hem, revealed her lovely stocking tops and drew down her pastel pink panties. There, his semen was already smeared in amongst her curly curly pubic hairs. She smelled of him, the taking. He must have ordered her not to bathe afterwards.

    'Can you smell how ripe she is?' asked Lucien. Fabian was beside me, he grinned.

    I inhaled. It was like I'd been given a psychological cue. it was like a trigger phrase. I inhaled and my mistress smelled.....she smelled so woman. She smelled of aloof, elegant, goddess poise. You can't smell those things...I know that! But my brain smelled them then. It fucking well smelled posh bitch.

    'Yes, thank you sir' I whispered. Someone whispered. Was it.......was it me?

    He kissed her again and she responded eagerly to him. With barely a glance in my direction she sought his kiss. As he kissed her his hand sunk below forward onto her creamed sex and he played with her. He played with her idly as if her sex was always his to enjoy. It was always available. Fabian smiled again. The bastard was some kind of pervert, a fucking minder tonight for Lucien's conquest.

    'Get his trousers, take that prong out son' Fabian ordered.

    I have never touched a guy down there. NEVER, you hear? I am not that way inclined. Fabian though shot me a glance. I was to do this. May be after a few more films it would be natural, but right now I needed a little prompting. I didn't really want to have resistance reported to Miss Felicity did I? He whispered the threat and I unbuckled Lucien's belt, undid the waist band of his trousers and took down his pants. I pulled down his designer briefs and a fucking disgusting, large, circumcised prick sprang into view. I think the thing mesmerised her too, but she was looking beyond to me kneeling on the floor gathering up the clothes.

    'He won't be a problem' he said soothingly to her, 'Fabian won't have to hit him. You need this John, don't you?'

    I looked up. Another compulsion in my head. Fuck it. It was probably in the gin and tonic. They'd doped me. It was something. I felt in a dream or something. I fucking well nodded.

    'Why don't you lie beside mistress and hold her cunt lips open for her' Fabian said, as Lucien eased my wife back into the bed and pushed up her dress. There, she was ready for him. Her stockings and suspenders in place, the straps stretching as she splayed her legs wide. I crept up onto the bed like a creature of some kind. I felt so ashamed and yet so compelled. I couldn't look at Emma but I reached forward with my fingers and daintily held open her generous, swollen labia so that the sticky white cream and peach interior was open to view.

    Lucien drew his bulbous glans up and down her sexy lips. He watched her grimace, anticipating the stretch and then by turn, her face adopt the longing expression that she had already known that afternoon.

    'You needing it?' he asked her quietly.

    She nodded. She didn't look my way. She didn't give me a glance.

    'Beg' he said coldly.

    Now Emma did give me a quick look. He had been good with her that afternoon, no devastating. He knew what he could make her do now. He knew that she was in his thrall.

    'Please Lucien....please darling'.




    I watched Lucien's cock head glide past my fingers, through her quivering labia and into her cunt. He breached her and I felt her body tense beside me. His fucking prick looked so black, so powerful. Contrasted against her creamy white skin, the pink of her pulled about cunt it looked almost alien. It looked as though she was being seeded by something super human, completely unworldly. He pushed in past the glans, and his thick shaft stretched her. I heard Emma groan. She writhed against me, her head in the pillow, her hands spasming against the duvet as he occupied her.

    Fabian cuffed my ear. I was to take my fucking hands out of the way and to pull down her dress top so that I could lick her 'teats'. He used that word and I made my dick stiff. It was like I was designed to stiffen to the thought of her breasts full, her teats hard, feeding her kid by an animal like Lucien. I did as I was bade, undid her front fastening bra and started to lick her teats. They were hard already, but they grew harder still.

    'Suck the fuckers, Mistress will climax harder when you do' Fabian ordered.

    I sucked her tits. I sucked them and they protruded into my mouth like door stops. She was so fucking aroused, so fucking turned on and Lucien started to stroke into her, his massive cock gliding in and out. I glanced down, and saw Emma writhing, her legs wide, craving his shaft. Her face grimaced, her eyes squinting, her mouth opening in little gasps.

    'Please, please, please Lucien' she begged.

    The fucker had such a supercilious expression on his face. He looked as though this was the easiest, the most natural thing in the world. He was fucking another bitch. She was going to pieces on his cock. Bitches orgasmed, they clamped down on his cock, trying to trap it inside them forever. They lost their cool, they pleaded and gasped when he ran his cock greedily into their hot little holes. He'd inseminated a few. He'd inseminated a lot, how many kids did he have? Lots, there must be lots.

    'Give it me....please......'

    Fuck it! I hated it. I hated what she said then. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't stop gripping his cock with her cunt, grabbing at it, eating it, welcoming it, submitting it and craving, all the time craving....

    'OK' Lucien chuckled, 'may be another load now huh?'

    'Darling!' she groaned, as his cock picked up pace. She was making the slap, slap, slap, sucking noise now as he banged into her. Her tits were shaking so that I couldn't get my lips on her teats.

    'Now?' asked Lucien callously. Fabian grinned.

    'Please!' begged Emma.

    'OK' he said casually. I watched his face harden. I watched his buttocks tighten and he bucked into her. He was loading my wife. He loaded her and pumped his cock higher, so that she rose on the strength of his erection. He made her writhe. He made her reach for he pillows, digging her nails hard into its fabric. Emma was gasping, her teeth gritting, her neck flushing pink with blood. She was climaxing so hard on him.

    'Fucking take it' said Lucien, re angling. His cock was still spraying, up into her, deep inside her cunt.

    Emma sounded like an animal too. She grunted convulsively on him shaking her pretty head. His cock was still delivering. Emma looked as though she might pass out.

    'Christ...' I gasped.

    Lucien looked at me. So I was there too, he had forgotten.

    'She is so going to catch man, ' he said cruelly to me, 'her cunt grips so hard. She so needing a kid'.

    I stared at him like a complete idiot.

    'Now fuck off into your cubby room' Lucien said.

    I didn't want to go. I wanted to see his cock, thick, slime covered pull out of her. I wanted to do something, to lick to kiss. My brain was racing down that road.

    'Fucking do as you're told' Fabian ordered. His eyes narrowed. His fists tightened.

    I rolled away. I rolled away feeling gutted. I rolled away and slunk to the small room. Fabian followed me and when I was inside, the light switched on he locked the door. I was to listen from within.

    I could hear them kissing. I could hear that Lucien was suggesting that Fabian take down his pants too. They were both going to fuck her.

    There must have been a remote or something because suddenly my little lamp turned off. It wouldn't come back on. I clicked the switch up and down frantically. I started to bang on the wall, there in the pitch darkness. I felt as though I couldn't breath.

    The other side of the wall, the other side, I swear it, I could hear someone sucking cock.

    [Also from Lutheran Maid, 'The Intimacy of Three' a cuckolding novel for less than the price of a pint, from Amazon, in download and print].
  2. CumSlurpingCuckold

    CumSlurpingCuckold Well-Known Member Member

    Fuck yes. I'm only just beginning this story and it has my usually limp white dicklette throbbing with pretensions. BBC Worship is so fucking true. This is as it should be.
    jayce727 and Lutheran Maid like this.
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