Bred Blind: A Love Story

I did something that would make my mother clutch her pearls so hard they'd turn to dust. For my 24th birthday, instead of the wine tasting my friends planned, I arranged something different. I've always played it safe; I didn't drink until I was 20 so I was boring in high school. I didn't fuck until I was in college, on my own, and could get on the pill (I grew-up in a small town with religious minded parents). I graduated from college and had a decent job and dated 'safe' guys.

But I'd become bored with 'safe', and I started having these overwhelming, animalistic dreams about surrendering all control and being claimed by someone I didn't know. I was rebelling against everything: my previous religious beliefs, everything that society had to say about what I should want as a woman. It all jumbled into this crazy desire to being bred like that was my only purpose in life.

At the time there was a BDSM club in my city and I finally gathered the courage to go talk to the owners. We got to know each other, they suggested I attend some classes and get to know the members. There were a few cute guys I let know that I hoped they'd sign-up for my birthday gangbang if it happened. I got to try out different pieces of dungeon furniture they had, and I found that I really enjoyed this BDSM pillory board which was like the medieval stockades only it put me on my knees instead of standing which was what I needed if I was going to be locked in it from 11pm to 3am!

After a few months, everyone was comfortable with making my fantasy a reality. The owners handled the logistics: clean STI tests required, NDAs and promises I wouldn't seek child support were signed, and a safe word was established. I might be kinky and reckless, but I'm not stupid.

If a child was born, there would be a DNA test. The men who joined in could decide whether or not to see if they were a match.

The night before my birthday, I showed up at 9pm. The owner's wife helped me get ready by doing my hair and make-up. I wore a white teddy, matching stockings, and high heels. I wanted to look like a bride because while I wasn't giving up my virginity, I was sacrificing that good girl who always did 'safe' and what others thought was right.

The blindfold went on at exactly 11pm and the owner's wife led me into the room where they'd moved the pillory. It was the club's bar which I knew was elegantly designed. As we approached the door, I could hear the murmur of men. My guide knocked and announced that the night's entertainment had arrived. The door opened and I felt a man's hand replace my guide and I was led to the middle of the room as the gathered men applauded me.

I was placed in the familiar stocks and greeted with the mellow, nutty sweetness of Beech wood. My knees sunk into padded leather. I leaned forward and placed my neck and wrists in the bottom board; the top board was set into place and locked. Rough hands moved my ankles into place at a smaller stockade for them behind me. I tried to move and found myself delightfully immobilized.

Then I waited.

The agenda was 11 to midnight would be a social hour. The gathered men had some drinks and hors d'oeuvres while they chatted. I tried to pick out familiar voices, but if they had met me it seemed they were remaining silent.

I also felt many hands on me. During the social hour, they were allowed to 'inspect' me. There was a mix of experience in those hands, some crudely groped my ass, breasts, and cunt like they were touching a woman for the first time. Other hands touched me with finesse, a tickle here and a little spank there. At some point there was a competition for who could make me moan the loudest.

This pair of gentle hands won. He knew just how to touch a woman; he started at my lips and because of the stockade moved to my back. I kept expecting him to slide those fingers to my breasts and release them from the captivity of my Teddy, but he never did. With excruciating sensuality he made me squirm. Finally, he slid two fingers over my slit and teased my clit but he didn't linger. He moved down my thigh and caressed my nylon clad leg before removing a heel and giving me a foot rub that made me moan the second loudest time under this delightful torture.

The loudest moan came when he returned to my pussy. He almost lovingly cupped my vulva, and ground into it just enough that I started grinding back. He found all my pleasure points, the ticklish part on either side of my lips. He knew how to play my Mons, driving me nuts with his palm while teasing penetration between my lips. Then he touched my clit, softly and gently. I'm very sensitive there and don't like it when guys go straight there and focus on it.

But damn, he knew just when to push that button and I shuddered in the stockade for the first time that night. It also secured him the right of first entry when midnight came.

I heard a clock chime midnight and knew that it was no longer about me. There was a pause to see if I would use my safe word, and I remained silent. Someone announced that it was time for the winner to take me first. I felt those same damn hands on me; he started with cradling my cheek then caressing my back. This time, he didn't linger when he got behind me.

I felt his bare cock pressing against my lips, he eased into me. He didn't rush, but he didn't take his time either; he just sunk inside me. I couldn't help but moan, especially when I felt his hands grip my hips as he started to thrust. I'd learn later that according to the social hour rules, as the winner he had all to himself for 2 minutes. Which explained why I didn't feel any other hands on me, or a dick shoved down my throat.

I heard a timer go off, and while in the moment I didn't know what it signified, I understood soon enough as a cock was teasing my lips. I opened my mouth, and the cock slid inside, I could taste his precum. I couldn't move or resist, I could only submit or use my safe word. If a guy wanted to fuck my face, he could. If he wanted to take it slow and gentle and receive head, I was obliged to give it to him.

This first cock wanted to show me who was boss and soon it was down my throat. His balls slapping on my chin. Which was too much for Gentle Hands, who gripped my hips and pulled me into his last thrust as he came deep inside me. I came with him.

The cock from my mouth was removed, and I felt my drool as it was slapped on my ass a few times before being rammed inside me. He only lasted a few quick pumps before he dumped inside me, and with a spank pulled out as another cock was presented to my lips, this time wanting a sensual BJ. I thought maybe this was Gentle Hands, but he'd either quickly washed because I couldn't taste myself on it or it belonged to another man.

I think I'd been cummed in about 6 times when I tasted a dirty cock for the first time; that heady, oddly satisfying taste of me and him combined on his dick. I was desperate to know which dick belonged to Gentle Hands. But the way this guy held my head, I knew it wasn't him. In fact, I didn't feel those hands again that night.

Soon after I tasted my first dirty cock, someone took my ass for the first time not only that night but in my life. I knew it was coming, but it still hurt. The owner of the cock was gentle, but not quite as good as the pair of hands I needed to feel on me again. I didn't know if I'd become lost in the eroticism, or maybe he left deciding he didn't want to watch me get fucked by other men.

Eventually the clock chimed 3, and the cocks in my mouth and pussy finished. I kneeled there, gasping and catching my breath as I heard the men file out. One man remained, the club owner who freed me. I tried to stand but my legs were rubber, and I was so sore. He lifted me and carried me to the office I'd used as a changing room earlier. His wife was waiting and removed my blindfold and tended to my well -used body.

In the days that followed I knew I'd been changed. Exhausted, satisfied, sore in the best ways. But also, incomplete as my body searched for something it had found and lost.

The pregnancy test two weeks later was negative. But my body knew before my mind did. I took another test a week later, and it was positive. Instead of panic, I felt purposeful. Like this was always meant to happen.

Five months pregnant, I'm at a coffee shop, reading a pregnancy book. This man approaches - tall, shoulders like a linebacker, eyes the color of whiskey in firelight. He says, "I know this sounds insane, but you're carrying my child."

I blushed, while for any other single soon-to-be mother this would be terrifying I knew I was safe. I looked at his hands, they looked gentle. Also, I'd had a prenatal DNA test done per the gangbang agreement. The results were given to the attendees. I was told only a third had compared them against their own DNA. I asked the owner who was handling all this if he knew if the father was one of the men who compared their DNA to my baby's.

He didn't know.

"My DNA test matched," he said as he pulled up the chair across from me. We talked for six hours. He was a veterinarian, coached youth hockey, and had a laugh that made my toes curl even through morning sickness. He placed one hand on my cheek as he asked if I wanted to see his test results from that night. I told him that I didn't need to see proof.

We dated for three months first, but engagement and marriage were inevitable from that first coffee shop conversation. My body had chosen him before my eyes ever saw him.

Our daughter is three weeks old now. She has his eyes and my stubborn streak. Sometimes I catch him looking at me with this wonder, like he can't believe we found each other. I told him it was fate. He says it was pheromones. Maybe we're both right.

My mother thinks we met at a church singles event (some secrets are worth keeping).

But I needed to tell someone the truth about how sometimes the wildest risks lead to the most unexpected happiness. How sometimes your body knows things your mind isn't ready to accept. How sometimes surrender is its own kind of power.

Besides, our daughter's going to need a sibling eventually. And my next birthday is coming up...