Ansh’s body went rigid above him. Jai turned his head, his cheek scraping against the silk pillow, to follow Ansh’s glare.
Aditya leaned against the now-closed door, his arms crossed over his chest. A slow, knowing smile played on his lips. His eyes, dark and assessing, swept over the tangled mess of their bodies—Ansh still buried deep inside Jai, the evidence of his claim cooling between them.
“The door wasn’t locked,” Aditya said, his voice calm, conversational. “Sloppy, Ansh. You were so hungry to reclaim your toy you forgot basic security.”
Ansh didn’t move. The possessive warmth that had cocooned them evaporated, replaced by a crackling, hostile tension. “Get out.”
“I don’t think so,” Aditya replied, pushing off the door. He began to unbutton his own shirt, his movements deliberate. “You don’t get to have a private christening after the group baptism. The vessel belongs to the circle. And I’m not finished with my investment.”
Jai’s breath caught. Ansh’s cock, still half-hard inside him, twitched. A fresh trickle of his release leaked out around the shaft.
“He’s mine,” Ansh snarled, but there was a thread of uncertainty there. A recognition of a higher order.
“He’s ours,” Aditya corrected, his shirt falling open to reveal his chiseled chest. “And the man in charge is downstairs. He watched the feed. He saw your little… performance. He’s not impressed with your attempt at a solo coup.”
Ansh flinched. It was barely perceptible, but Jai felt it. The name ‘the man in charge’ was a key turned in a lock, deflating Ansh’s aggression into wary submission.
Aditya approached the bed, his joggers already hanging low on his hips. “He wants to see the vessel. Personally. And he wants him… prepared. That means he wants him full. That means you don’t get to be the only one topping him off.”
He stopped at the edge of the bed, looking down at where they were joined. “Pull out.”
A muscle ticked in Ansh’s jaw. For a second, Jai thought he’d refuse. Then, with a sound of pure frustration, Ansh withdrew. The sudden emptiness was a shock, a cold gape where there had been possessive heat. More of Ansh’s cum spilled out onto the silk beneath Jai.
“On your hands and knees,” Aditya commanded Jai, his voice leaving no room for debate. “Present that well-used hole. I want to see all of our work. I want to see what I’m adding to.”
Jai scrambled to obey, his body moving on autopilot. He got onto all fours, his head hanging low, his ass in the air. He felt exposed, degraded, and wildly, shamefully aroused. He heard the slick sound of Aditya spitting into his palm, the rustle of fabric as he freed his cock.
“Look at that,” Aditya murmured, a hand spreading Jai’s cheeks wide. “Still gaping. Still dripping him. Good. I want my load to mix with his. I want my fucking swimmers racing his right to the finish line.”
He didn’t tease. The broad, blunt head of his cock pressed against Jai’s entrance and he pushed forward, a steady, relentless invasion. Jai cried out, his back arching. Aditya was thick, and the stretch burned beautifully after Ansh’s claiming.
“Fuck, yes,” Aditya groaned, sinking to the hilt in one smooth stroke. He grabbed Jai’s hips, his fingers digging in. “Still so tight around me. You were made for this, Jai. Made to be a fucking receptacle for seed.”
He began to fuck, a hard, deep, piston-like rhythm that had Jai scrambling for purchase on the slick sheets. It was different from Ansh’s frantic possession. This was cold, clinical, and devastatingly effective. Each thrust punched the air from Jai’s lungs.
“You think his cum is special?” Aditya grunted, leaning over Jai’s back, his lips against Jai’s ear. “You think because he fucked you with feeling it’s going to win? Biology isn’t sentimental, Jai. It’s a fucking war. And my soldiers are strong. I can feel them churning, ready to flood your womb and drown his.”
Ansh watched from the side of the bed, his expression stormy, his fist clenched around his own hardening cock. He was stroking himself, his eyes glued to where Aditya was disappearing inside Jai’s body.
“That’s it,” Ansh muttered, a dark encouragement. “Fuck him. Fill him up. He needs to be dripping when he goes downstairs.”
“He will be,” Aditya promised, his pace quickening. The slap of skin on skin filled the quiet room. “I’m going to come so deep inside you, Jai. I’m going to paint your cervix white. I want you walking down those stairs feeling my load leaking out of you, a fucking reminder of who got there last.”
The filthy, graphic promise coiled heat in Jai’s gut. His own cock swung heavily beneath him, aching and neglected. “Please,” he sobbed, the word muffled by the pillow. “Please, Aditya. Breed me. I want it. I want your baby, too.”
It was the right thing to say. Aditya’s control snapped. His thrusts became ragged, brutal. He was hammering into Jai now, his breath coming in sharp grunts. “Gonna… fucking… claim you!”
He shoved in one final, devastating time and held, his body locking up. Jai felt the hot, pulsing rush of another release, a torrent that seemed to go on and on, flooding his already overfilled channel. Aditya groaned, long and low, grinding his hips in tight circles as he emptied himself.
He stayed buried for a long moment before pulling out slowly. A gush of fluid followed his retreat, dripping down Jai’s thighs onto the ruined silk.
Before Jai could collapse, strong hands turned him onto his back again. Ansh was there, his eyes blazing. He gripped Jai’s legs, pushing them back.
“My turn again,” Ansh growled. “One more for the road. One more to make sure my mark is on top.”
But as he positioned himself, the bedroom door opened again.
Neither Ansh nor Aditya was surprised this time. They both stilled, their heads turning toward the doorway.
The man who stood there was the one from the study. The one with the gravelly voice. The one in charge. He was older, his power not in quick youth but in a dense, imposing stillness. He wore a dark robe, open at the front. His cock was already hard, thick and heavy, jutting out from a thatch of grey hair.
The room seemed to shrink under his gaze.
“Aditya. Ansh. Leave,” he said. The command was quiet, absolute.
Neither man hesitated. Aditya pulled up his joggers, giving Jai one last, unreadable look before following Ansh out of the room. The door clicked shut, leaving Jai alone with him.
The man approached the bed. His eyes, like chips of obsidian, scanned Jai’s body—the sweat, the spend, the trembling exhaustion.
“They’ve prepared you well,” he rumbled. He placed a heavy hand on Jai’s belly, pressing down. Jai gasped, feeling the liquid weight inside him shift. “So full. A cocktail of potential. But a cocktail is a diluted thing.”
He climbed onto the bed, his weight making the frame creak. He didn’t kiss, didn’t caress. He simply pushed Jai’s legs up and apart, his gaze fixed on Jai’s leaking, ruined entrance.
“This is not about pleasure,” the man said, guiding the monstrous head of his cock to Jai’s hole. “This is about purpose. You are a vessel. My vessel. Tonight, we see if you are a fertile one.”
He pushed.
It was an invasion unlike any other. He was bigger, thicker than the rest, and Jai’s body, despite everything, had to fight to accommodate him. It was a slow, agonizing, breathtaking stretch. Jai screamed, his nails clawing at the sheets, his back bowing off the bed.
The man seated himself fully with a deep, satisfied sigh. “There.”
He didn’t move immediately. He just stayed there, buried to the hilt, letting Jai’s body convulse around him. “You feel that, boy? You feel how deep I am? My cock is against your womb. I can feel the heat of it.”
He began to move then, a slow, brutal, grinding rhythm. Each thrust was a deliberate, soul-rattling impact. It wasn’t fast. It was devastatingly thorough.
“I am going to fuck a child into you,” he whispered, his voice a rough caress against Jai’s terror. “I am going to pump my seed so far up inside you it has no choice but to take. My lineage is strong. My blood demands an heir. And your body… your young, hungry, slutty body… will give it to me.”
He picked up the pace, his hips driving forward with a force that felt like it would break Jai in half. “You will swell with my baby. You will carry my mark for the world to see. And you will thank me for this. You will beg for it.”
Jai was beyond words, beyond thought. He was a canvas of pure, brutal sensation. The pain, the overwhelming fullness, the terrifying, exhilarating promise in the man’s words. His own orgasm built, a tsunami with no touch, just from the relentless, claiming fury of the fucking.
“Come for me, vessel,” the man ordered, his own breath becoming labored. “Come while I’m planting my future inside you. Let your body accept its fate.”
The command, the pressure, the sheer psychological fuck of it all, tipped Jai over the edge. He came with a silent, seizing scream, his release splattering his own stomach, his channel clamping down in violent, rhythmic pulses around the thick cock destroying him.
The man above him grunted, a sound of pure animal triumph. “Yes. Milk it. Take it. Take my fucking legacy.”
He drove in one last, deepest time, and Jai felt the hot, volcanic eruption of his release, a flood so profound it felt like it was filling his very soul. The man held himself there, pulsing, grunting, claiming.
He finally stilled, his weight heavy on Jai. He lowered his head, his lips brushing Jai’s ear.
“It is done. The seed is planted. Now we wait.”
The door opened before the weight of the man in charge had fully left Jai’s body. Aditya stood there, clean and composed, a stark contrast to the wreck on the bed.
“Up,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth. “The night isn’t over. You have an audience waiting.”
Jai’s limbs felt like water. He pushed himself up, semen—thick and copious—dripping from him onto the silk. He was helped to his feet, not by Ansh, but by a man he didn’t recognize, who guided him silently from the room and down a different hallway.
They stopped before a plain wooden door. Inside was a smaller, windowless room, lit by a single, bright overhead lamp. It was empty save for a single, high-backed leather chair positioned in the center of the room, facing the door. In the shadows along the walls, Jai could make out figures. Five, maybe six men. They were silent, watching.
The man in charge was already there, seated in a simple chair against the far wall. He had changed into a dark, tailored shirt and trousers. He looked like a CEO observing a board meeting.
“Kneel,” he said, his gravelly voice cutting through the quiet.
Jai sank to his knees on the cool hardwood floor in front of the leather chair. He understood without being told.
The first man stepped from the shadows. It was Rohan. He gave Jai a small, almost apologetic smile as he unzipped his trousers. His cock sprang free, already half-hard. He settled into the leather chair, spreading his legs.
“You remember me, Jai,” Rohan said, his voice that same calm, focused tone from the sensory room. “You counted for me. Now, I want you to taste me. I want your mouth as warm and tight as your ass was.”
Jai leaned forward. The room was silent except for the soft rustle of clothing and the sound of his own shaky breath. He took the head of Rohan’s cock into his mouth. The taste was clean, salty skin. He worked his tongue around the ridge, hearing Rohan’s soft sigh above him.
“Use your hands,” the man in charge instructed from the wall. “Show him you’re eager for it.”
Jai obeyed, wrapping one hand around the base of Rohan’s shaft, stroking in time with the bobbing of his head. His other hand cupped Rohan’s balls, gently rolling them. He sucked deeply, taking more of him in, his throat relaxing.
“Good,” Rohan whispered, his hand coming to rest on the back of Jai’s head, not forcing, just guiding. “That’s so good. Your mouth is perfect. Just like that… fuck, just like that.”
Rohan’s hips began to pump upward in small, shallow thrusts. Jai relaxed his jaw, letting him set the pace, focusing on the slick slide, the heavy weight on his tongue, the musky scent filling his nostrils. He looked up, meeting Rohan’s gaze. The intensity there, the focused pleasure, was its own kind of power.
“I’m close,” Rohan warned, his fingers tangling in Jai’s hair. “I’m going to come down your throat. You’re going to swallow every drop. Show him you can take it.”
Jai redoubled his efforts, sucking hard, his hand stroking faster. Rohan’s breath hitched. With a low groan, he pushed deep, holding Jai’s head in place as his release flooded Jai’s mouth. It was hot, bitter, and copious. Jai swallowed convulsively, once, twice, a third time, until Rohan softened and slipped from his lips.
A ragged breath escaped him. A string of saliva and cum connected his lip to Rohan’s spent cock for a second before breaking.
“Next,” the man in charge said.
There was no break. Vikram was already moving forward, his thick cock already hard and leaking. He didn’t sit. He stood before Jai, gripping his hair.
“Open,” he commanded.
Jai tilted his head back, mouth open. Vikram fed his cock in, not slowly, not gently. He fucked Jai’s mouth with the same intense, driving pace he’d used in the sensory chamber. Jai gagged, tears springing to his eyes as the thick head bumped the back of his throat.
“Relax that throat,” Vikram grunted, pumping steadily. “Take it all. You took my load in your ass, now take it in your gut. I want to feel you swallow around me when I come.”
Jai focused on breathing through his nose, on relaxing the muscles, on making his mouth a wet, tight sleeve. He reached up, grabbing Vikram’s muscular thighs for balance. The vulgar sounds of wet suction filled the room.
“Look at him,” someone murmured from the shadows. “Born for it.”
Vikram’s thrusts grew erratic. “Gonna come! Swallow it! Swallow it all!”
He shoved in to the root and held, his body rigid. The bitter flood hit Jai’s throat. He swallowed desperately, gulping down the thick pulses, some of it escaping to trickle from the corner of his mouth. Vikram pulled out with a slick pop, wiping the tip on Jai’s cheek.
A third man was there. Then a fourth. Jai lost track of their faces. He became a mechanism, a warm, wet hole to be used. His jaw ached. His throat was raw. Each man used him differently. One came on his face, making him lick it from his own skin. Another made him beg for it, whispering filthy promises of breeding before allowing him to suck.
Through it all, the man in charge watched, his expression unreadable.
“Enough,” he finally said, after the sixth man had stepped back, buckling his belt. “Bring him to the medical room.”
Jai was pulled to his feet, his legs shaky. He was led out, down another sterile hallway, and into a different kind of space. It was cold, tiled, and smelled of antiseptic. A padded examination table sat in the center, under a bright, clinical light. Various medical instruments gleamed on a tray nearby.
“On the table. On your back. Legs in the stirrups,” the man in charge ordered, washing his hands at a sink.
The vulnerability was absolute. More than during any of the fuckings. The cold air raised goosebumps on his skin. The leather stirrups were cold against his calves and heels. He was spread wide, completely exposed under the harsh light.
The man in charge approached, now wearing sterile gloves. He stood between Jai’s spread legs, his obsidian eyes critically assessing.
“We will see what the night’s work has wrought,” he said, his voice low.
He began with his fingers, probing Jai’s stretched, swollen entrance. Jai flinched at the cold, clinical touch. The man pushed two fingers in deep, twisting them slowly.
“Relaxed. Well-used. Good capillary response,” he muttered, as if to himself. “No significant trauma. The vessel is resilient.”
He withdrew his fingers, which glistened with a mixture of fluids. He then picked up a cold, metal speculum from the tray. Jai’s breath caught.
“This will feel strange. Do not move.”
The cold metal pressed against him, then, with a smooth, practiced motion, the man inserted it and opened the blades. The internal stretch was bizarre, impersonal. Jai squeezed his eyes shut.
“Look,” the man commanded.
Jai opened his eyes. The man had angled a small, bright light. He was staring intently between the speculum blades, deep into Jai’s body.
“Excellent cervical positioning,” he murmured. “Swollen. Receptive. You can see the fluid pooling here—a mixture, of course. A potent cocktail.” He leaned closer. “The os is slightly open. A sign of peak fertility. Your body is screaming for implantation.”
The words, so coldly clinical, were more obscene than any dirty talk. Jai trembled.
The man removed the speculum with a soft click. He then pressed a hand firmly on Jai’s lower abdomen, just above his pubic bone. He pushed down, deep.
A gush of warm semen leaked from Jai’s body, spilling onto the table beneath him. The man watched it, a faint smile touching his lips.
“See that? So much. So deep. My release is the heaviest. It would have sunk to the bottom, against your cervix.” He leaned over Jai, his gloved hand still pressing. “In a few days, we will test. We will see if my seed has taken root. If your body has accepted its purpose.”
He removed his hand and peeled off the gloves.
“Until then,” he said, his gaze lingering on Jai’s exposed, leaking form, “you will rest. You will eat what you are given. You will keep yourself ready. My potential is growing inside you now. Every part of you belongs to that possibility.”
He turned to leave, pausing at the door.
“Ansh,” he called out, his voice echoing in the tiled room.
Ansh appeared in the doorway, his face a mask of tension. He looked at Jai, strapped to the table, covered in the evidence of the night, and his eyes darkened.
“Clean him up,” the man in charge ordered. “Then put him to bed. He is not to be touched again until we have results. He is carrying something precious now.”
Ansh’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The man left. Ansh approached the table, his eyes running over Jai’s shivering body. He reached out, his thumb wiping a smear of drying semen from Jai’s chin.
“You heard him,” Ansh said, his voice strangely thick.
