The heavy door clicked shut, leaving Jai alone in the silent, candlelit chamber. He stayed on his hands and knees as commanded, feeling the warm, thick trickle down his inner thighs. The air was cool on his skin, raising goosebumps, a stark contrast to the deep, claiming heat pooled inside him. He focused on the sensation, the heavy, liquid fullness, the slight, phantom ache where he’d been stretched so completely. Let it settle. Let it work. The words echoed in the quiet.
He didn’t know how much time passed before the door opened again. It wasn’t the man. Two figures entered, moving with silent efficiency. They were dressed in simple, dark tunics, their faces serene and unreadable. They didn’t speak.
Hands, gentle but firm, guided him to his feet. His legs trembled, almost buckling. One attendant supported him while the other produced a soft, warm cloth, beginning to wipe the drying spend from his thighs, his stomach. The touch was clinical, impersonal, but not unkind. They worked in tandem, cleaning him with a practiced reverence, as if handling something fragile and sacred.
They led him, naked and unsteady, from the chamber, down a new corridor he didn’t recognize. The air grew warmer, humid, and carried the scent of herbs and steam. They entered a room dominated by a vast, sunken marble bath. The water was milky and opaque, swirling with fragrant oils and floating petals. Soft, golden light glowed from recessed sconces.
“Step in,” one attendant murmured, the first words spoken. Her voice was a low, melodic whisper.
Jai descended the wide, shallow steps into the water. It was blissfully hot, soaking into his sore muscles. He sank down until the water lapped at his chin, closing his eyes with a sigh. The attendants knelt at the bath’s edge.
“Lean forward,” the same attendant instructed. “Rest your head on the rim.”
Jai obeyed, resting his forehead on the cool, smooth marble. He felt hands in his hair—strong, skilled fingers massaging a creamy, citrus-scented soap into his scalp. The sensation was so unexpectedly tender that a shiver ran through him that had nothing to do with the heat. The other attendant took a sea sponge, running it in slow, sweeping circles over his back, his shoulders, down the curve of his spine.
“The ritual was successful,” the attendant washing his hair said, her fingers working in slow, deep circles. “Your energy is receptive. Open. The seed is anchored.”
Jai opened his mouth to ask a question, but only a soft groan escaped as her thumbs pressed into the tense muscles at the base of his skull. The sponge moved lower, over the swell of his ass, and he tensed instinctively.
“Relax,” the other attendant soothed, the sponge moving in gentle, unwavering circles over his sensitive flesh. “We cleanse. We prepare. The channel must be soothed, not challenged. The implantation is a delicate process. Your body must be a peaceful garden, not a trampled field.”
The metaphor, so calm and certain, sent another wave of heat through him that had nothing to do with the bathwater. The sponge traced his cleft, not intruding, just washing away the last external traces of the man. The water around him clouded slightly.
“Turn,” the first attendant said.
Jai turned, sitting on the submerged bench, the water covering him to his chest. The two women moved around him. One continued with the sponge, washing his chest, his stomach, his arms. The other took his foot, lifting it from the water, and began a slow, firm massage, starting at his arch and working up his calf. The dual attention was overwhelming in its care. He was being pampered, serviced, prepared. It felt like a coronation for a womb.
One attendant’s sponge-washed hand drifted lower, through the water, over his belly. Her touch was feather-light. “So much potential rests here now,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “A deep, silent claim. Your body will decide in the days to come. But tonight… tonight it is a sacred vessel.”
Her companion finished with his feet and moved behind him again, her strong fingers kneading the knots from his shoulders. “Breathe deeply,” she instructed. “Draw the steam into your lungs. Let the heat soothe your core. Imagine the warmth cradling what has been placed inside you.”
Jai let his head loll back, doing as he was told. He breathed in the steam, laced with lavender and chamomile. He focused on the heat between his legs, the lingering, heavy sensation. The words wrapped around him, seductive and terrifying. Sacred vessel. Silent claim. The gentle, ministering hands on his body felt like a form of worship directed at his own fertility.
The sponge-washing attendant’s hand, still moving over his lower abdomen under the water, drifted lower. Her fingertips grazed the base of his soft cock, then lower still, tracing the sensitive skin of his perineum. It wasn’t a sexual touch. It was an inspection. A blessing.
“All paths are clear,” she announced softly to the other. “The offering was deep. The way is open.”
They helped him rise from the bath. Water streamed from his body as they enveloped him in a massive, warmed towel, patting him dry with the same attentive care. They guided him to a low, padded chaise and urged him to lie on his stomach.
Warm oil was poured onto his back. Four hands now, moving in synchronized, sweeping strokes from his shoulders down to his ankles. They pressed into his muscles, loosening the last vestiges of tension from the night’s relentless use. He moaned into the cushion, a sound of pure, helpless pleasure. This was a different kind of submission—a yielding to care, to a preparation that felt just as intense as any penetration.
“The body must be relaxed for the seed to nest,” one murmured, her thumbs pressing deep into the muscles flanking his spine. “Tension is an enemy. You must be soft. Open. Welcoming.”
Her hands slid lower, over the curves of his ass, massaging the firm flesh there. The other attendant’s hands focused on his legs, working up from his feet, her thumbs digging into his calves. The attention was total, consuming. He was being mapped, smoothed, made ready.
“Turn over,” came the soft command.
He turned onto his back, the towel falling away. He was completely exposed under the golden light, under their calm, assessing gazes. They didn’t linger on his nakedness with lust, but with a quiet, professional appraisal. Fresh, warm oil was drizzled over his chest and stomach.
Their four hands spread the oil over his pectorals, his abdomen. The touch was firm, circling, but when the hands moved over his lower belly, just above his pubic bone, the pressure changed. It became lighter, almost reverent. Slower. Circular, clockwise motions, as if stirring the pot of his being.
“This is the hearth,” the attendant on his right whispered, her palm flat against his lower stomach. Her skin was searingly warm from the oil. “This is where the fire will be lit. Where life will spark and grow. We warm the hearth.”
Her hand remained there, a warm, heavy weight, as the other attendant continued massaging his arms, his neck. Jai felt a strange, deep warmth blooming under that persistent palm. It felt like a sun was being kindled inside him. His breath hitched.
The attendant on his left moved lower. Her oil-slick fingers traced the line of his hip, then the crease of his thigh. She gently nudged his legs apart. He allowed it, his heart beginning to pound a new, frantic rhythm. This wasn’t arousal, not exactly. It was a hyper-awareness, a profound sensitivity.
Her fingers glided through the short hair, then cupped him gently, her palm a warm cradle for his softness. “All is in order,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “The vessel is intact. Receptive.” She lifted her hand, but the warmth remained.
The other attendant finally lifted her palm from his stomach. They both looked at him, their expressions serene.
“The preparation is complete,” the first said. “Your body is cleansed. Your energy is aligned. The seed has been welcomed. Now, you rest. You nourish. You wait.”
They helped him sit up, then stand. They draped a new, impossibly soft robe around his shoulders—a deep, emerald green silk that whispered against his skin.
“Come,” one said, taking his elbow. “Your room is ready.”
They led him from the bathing suite, down a quiet hall, to a simple, elegant bedroom. A large bed with crisp white sheets dominated the space. A single candle burned on a nightstand.
“Sleep,” the attendant said, guiding him to the bed. “Dream of deep roots and quiet growth.”
They left, closing the door silently behind them.
Jai stood alone in the center of the room, the silk robe hanging open. He placed a hand on his own stomach, where her palm had burned. It still felt warm. He thought of the profound, liquid weight that had been left inside him, now cradled, according to them, in a prepared and peaceful garden.
He let the robe slide from his shoulders, pooling at his feet. Naked, he crawled between the cool sheets. He lay on his back, one hand still resting on his lower abdomen. The silence was absolute. The waiting had begun. And in the dark, the phantom sensation of a deep, claiming thrust echoed through him, a ghost.
The deep, dreamless silence was shattered by the door swinging open. Jai jolted awake, the soft sheets tangling around his legs. Aditya stood in the doorway, backlit by the hallway light, already pulling his shirt over his head.
“Up,” he said, his voice a low command that brooked no argument. “Now.”
Jai pushed himself up on his elbows, the emerald robe gaping open. “Aditya… the ritual. He said to rest—”
“He said they couldn’t touch you. He didn’t say I couldn’t.” Aditya kicked the door shut, his joggers already hanging low on his hips. His cock was half-hard, thickening as he stalked toward the bed. “That fucking ceremony. All that whispery ‘sacred vessel’ bullshit.” He grabbed the edge of the robe and yanked, tearing it from Jai’s body. “You think that changes what you are? You’re a hole to be used. My hole. And I’m not done with it.”
He climbed onto the bed, his knees caging Jai’s hips. His hand wrapped around Jai’s throat, not squeezing, just holding. A claim. “You’re still loose from him, aren’t you? Still wet with his shit inside you.”
Jai’s heart hammered against his ribs. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Aditya.”
“Good.” Aditya released his throat and spat into his own palm. He didn’t bother with foreplay. He gripped Jai’s hip, flipped him onto his stomach, and shoved a pillow under his pelvis. “You take it just like this. You stay still and you take what I give you.”
The blunt, broad head of Aditya’s cock pressed against him, still slick with spit. He didn’t push. He leaned. The pressure was immense, a stretching, burning fullness that forced a choked gasp from Jai’s lungs. Aditya sank in with one relentless, grinding shove, seating himself to the balls in a single motion.
“Fuck,” Aditya groaned, his body going rigid above him. “You feel that? You feel how I’m pushing his load deeper? My cock is fucking through it. I’m mixing us up inside you.”
He pulled back and slammed home again. The impact drove the air from Jai’s lungs. Aditya set a brutal, driving pace from the first stroke, each thrust a piston-like drive that shook the bed frame. His hands dug into Jai’s hips, fingers biting into the flesh.
“You belong to all of us,” Aditya grunted, his rhythm savage and precise. “But right now, you’re mine. This tight, used little ass is mine to wreck. Tell me you feel it. Tell me you feel his seed moving inside you because of me.”
Jai’s face was mashed into the pillow. “I feel it,” he moaned, the words muffled. “I feel you… mixing it… fuck…”
“Louder.”
“I feel you mixing it!” Jai cried out, the confession ripped from him. The sensation was obscenely real—the deep, churning fullness, the wet, slick heat of Aditya’s thrusts stirring the already-spent pool within him. It felt filthy. Profound. “It’s… it’s all inside…”
“That’s right,” Aditya panted, his pace never faltering. He leaned over, his chest plastered to Jai’s sweat-slick back, his mouth at Jai’s ear. “His and mine. Swirling together. Getting shoved right up against your cervix. Which one’s gonna win, huh? Which one’s gonna knock you up?”
He hooked an arm under Jai’s chest and hauled him up, back against Aditya’s front, Aditya’s cock still buried impossibly deep. The new angle was devastating, hitting a spot that made white stars burst behind Jai’s eyelids. Aditya’s free hand snaked down, wrapping around Jai’s hard, leaking cock.
“You like that?” Aditya snarled, fucking up into him, his hand stroking in a tight, twisting rhythm. “You like being a fucking mixing bowl for our cum? You want a belly full of it? A baby born from a fucking cocktail?”
“Yes!” Jai screamed, his head falling back against Aditya’s shoulder. His body was a live wire, every nerve ending screaming. He was hurtling toward an orgasm, pushed by the ruthless penetration and the filthy, perfect words.
“Not yet,” Aditya commanded, his hand leaving Jai’s cock. He pushed Jai forward, back onto his hands and knees. “I’m not done with you.”
He pulled out entirely. The sudden, empty cold was a shock. Before Jai could process it, Aditya’s hands were on him, flipping him onto his back. He dragged Jai to the edge of the bed, yanked his legs over his shoulders, and drove back in.
This was deeper. More invasive. Jai could see Aditya’s face, see the fierce, possessive triumph in his eyes as he watched his cock disappear inside Jai’s body. Jai’s own cock slapped against his stomach with each thrust, red and dripping.
“Look at me,” Aditya ordered, his voice ragged. “Look at me while I fuck his seed even deeper into you.”
Jai’s gaze locked with his. Aditya’s thrusts became shorter, harder, a focused, grinding assault. “I’m gonna come. I’m gonna fill you up again. You’re gonna be so fucking stuffed with us you’ll be dripping for a week. You’ll walk around with our cum leaking out of you, a reminder of who you really belong to.”
His rhythm broke, becoming frantic. He slammed in one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go, and held. A raw, guttural shout tore from his throat as he came. Jai felt the hot, pulsing rush, another wave of liquid heat joining the mess already inside him. Aditya ground his hips, milking every last drop, his body shuddering with the force of his release.
He collapsed forward, bracing himself on his arms, still sheathed inside Jai. They stayed like that, panting, for a long minute. Finally, Aditya pulled out. A fresh, warm gush followed immediately, spilling onto the sheets beneath Jai.
Aditya looked down at the mess, at Jai’s wrecked, trembling body. He smirked, swiping two fingers through the mixed fluid leaking from Jai and bringing them to Jai’s lips. “Taste it. Taste your purpose.”
Jai opened his mouth, his tongue licking the salty, bitter mixture from Aditya’s fingers.
A sharp, clearing of a throat came from the doorway.
Jai’s head snapped toward the sound. The man in charge stood there, silhouetted, his expression unreadable. Aditya stiffened, slowly straightening up.
“Get cleaned up and dressed,” the man said, his voice like gravel. “Both of you. It’s time for the fertility check.” He turned his gaze to Jai. “The doctors are waiting in the examination suite. Let’s see what our efforts have yielded.”
