“You had to leave your life behind. You dug some graves they'll never find. The story's told, with facts and lies. You had a name, but nevermind.”

You’ve been safe with your boyfriends, and their little beta asses have played along nicely, haven’t they? You’ve taken everyone’s advice: “No hat – no party!” your mum sensibly told you. It’s too early for you to take risks. You’re just starting out. You’re going through Uni. You’re not married. You’re in therapy and need stability. You’re not ready.

Let me tell you something kitten: you’re never going to be ready. And another thing: you’re ready when I fucking decide it’s time to cum in your fertile pussy. Women shouldn’t think too much – they were made to produce. Men have thoughts of their own: you make babies, we make decisions.

Inside you know this. Your body has been telling you it’s time to breed. Your limp little partner cums inside his condom, and you moan and sigh dutifully, and thank him for taking ten minutes of his day to not satisfy you. He goes down on you, and you cum, but it only leaves you feeling emptier. Deep inside you feel that yours was just as much a wasted orgasm as his – that a real man makes real decisions, takes total control, gambles for real stakes, makes permanent marks. He isn’t that man darling: he’s too young; too immature.

But I know what you need kitten. I know what nature made you for.

I see your rhythms. I track your desires. I see that flush rising in your cheek and breast and vulva each month. As I inspect you with my fingers each day and I feel your mucus changing, first cloudy white then clearing and stretching, your cervix hanging lower and lower, begging me for more than an index and middle.

I feel your nipples hardening against me. I feel the tenderness of your breasts and squeeze and suckle them more gently. I see how tentative and scared of your own desires you are getting, and start making decisions for you. I sense your need for force and pain, and leave your face, ass and legs bruised as I use you. My fingerprints on your neck a temporary mark of love until we get the test result. I whisper in your ear that it’s our little secret, that others wouldn’t understand, as I soften inside you and plug up the sperm as it pools on your cervix. How it only means that I love you more when I force you to make our perfect little family.

You cum hard when I hold you down. When I overrule your reason, pin your arms and force you to kiss me as my rock-hard cock fucks your helpless fertile cunt. Your pussy can’t help but spasm uncontrollably. It knows I am marking you forever – taking control – making you mine while you struggle and squirm underneath me. Ruining your life and your pathetic feminist plans with a huge load of my sperm because I know this is what you are for. I laugh as you struggle. I tell you this is what you really want, and your body was asking for it. I smile as you cum, and helpless tears rise to your eyes as you realise I’m right, and you did need forced after all.

Then I fill you up. That perfect moment of consummation and forced ecstasy stands outside of time for both of us – the moment I made you real – the moment we took part together in the miracle of creation. I’m on top of you, breathless, panting. I tell you I love you. That you’re a good little girl. That this is what you wanted. Your mouth moves quite naturally, of its own accord, telling me you love me too, that we will always be here, that you need this forever.

I tell you that daddy needs to make you cum again now, so that you suck up all his sperm into your womb. I push the leaking load back into you with my fingers and I lick your rock-hard clit. The orgasms you have shock you, blind you temporarily, change your expectations of what pleasure is meant to be and signify.

You lie in my arms. Your old life has gone, and your new one has begun. Finally you’ve surrendered. To me, to your nature, to your true self.

“The war is lost. The treaty signed. You were not caught. You crossed the line. You were not caught, though many tried. You live among us, well disguised”