Yes, Pa

It's been five months since the first time Pa filled you with his seed. You remember the moment more clearly than anything that has happened to you before or since. After your last breathless vow of submission, "...yes, Pa..." he had leaned back and pulled your legs up over his shoulders. His thick arms had wrapped around your thighs, making your tender ass rub against the coarse hair on his belly. In this position he had hammered your pussy, forcing more of his cock into you than you had ever believed you could take. When he finally reached his climax and poured himself directly into your deepest part, flooding you completely, it felt like cresting a wave and finally seeing the promised land.

You don't remember exactly what happened after that. You remember him pulling himself out of your stretched and aching pussy, allowing a stream of his seed to gush from you. You remember him addressing the crowd, telling them something about your pussy being off-limits, which you remember made you feel special. Made you feel owned.

You had then been taken to begin your new life. You were cleaned up by some of the women and allowed to rest, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. When you awoke, Pa took you to "get rid of the radical in you". The unnatural color of your hair offended his idea of what a good, proper woman was. This meant that you spent the better part of an hour with Pa dunking your head in a bucket of grain **** and scrubbing painfully at your hair with a coarse brush. When he was finally satisfied, he dragged you over in front of a dirty mirror, and you saw that your purple tresses had faded to a feminine pink.

You stared at the image, your eyes burning and your skin tingling from the chemical ****. Pa grunted his approval. "Still not a good natural color, but that'll come with time. At least you look like a girl now." You remembered feeling a faint sadness as one of your defining features was forcefully stripped away from you, but that sadness was tempered by something else. Gratitude to Pa for making you what he wanted you to be.

After that, you began to learn about what life was in the Movement, for a woman. The most important role was to bear children for the men, and Pa made absolutely sure that you would fill that role. As Josiah had said, the bodies of the women belonged to the men. But that meant more than just sex. The women did a staggering amount of work, especially anything the men deemed beneath them. The weaker sex kept out of sight, did their work without complaint, and always obeyed their betters. They lived in sparse quarters when not being claimed by one of the men for the night, and they wore dull modest dresses.

Except for you.

Pa wanted everyone to be reminded of what you were, and who you belonged to. As a lasting punishment for who you had been before submitting to the Movement, your dress was especially made for exposure and access. Your breasts were left uncovered, and your skirt was high and loose. Just walking could lift the skirt enough to give a glimpse of your bare quim, and even a slight breeze would leave you completely exposed for all to see. Instead of sleeping in the women's quarters, your place was in Pa's bed, curled up at his feet with his seed leaking from your well-used pussy.

The other women despised you, denying you even the small joys of companionship. The men seemed to hate you for how much you inspired their lust. Pa owned your pussy, but the rest of your body still belonged to the Movement. Your chores were often interrupted by a rough looking man ordering you to your knees to attend to his hardness, or by a giddy teenager pushing you over a barrel and claiming your tight, tender ass. Every man in the compound did his part to remind you of your place.

Every man, except Josiah.

In addition to your nightly ruttings, Pa would often make a public spectacle of claiming your pussy. Bouncing you on his lap in the dining hall, pushing you down on your back in the dirt with your legs splayed wide for him, slamming into you from behind on the stage of one of the regular church services. The other men would raucously cheer at the show, but Josiah was always there, silently watching his stolen conquest be filled by another.

Josiah was only disallowed from touching you with his dick, so he took every possible opportunity to make you feel his simmering rage in other ways. He often volunteered as overseer wherever you were doing your endless, drudging chores. Punishment was hardly rare for the women of the compound, but Josiah would come down on you for even the slightest infraction. You could feel his pent-up frustration every time his hand struck your soft breast, or his belt whistled down to smack your quivering ass, or he just pushed your face into the dirt for the simple pleasure of debasing you.

There was one time when he dared to defy the patriarch. You had been alone, cleaning some dank back room of one of the farm buildings. You had looked up as Josiah stormed through the door, your breath catching in your throat. He had grabbed you by the shoulders and slammed you back against the rusty metal wall. His eyes were wide, his breath ragged and stinking of gin.

"I remember who you are, little Rose. I remember who made you this way." Your lips parted as he squeezed your shoulders, his **** and anger bringing you back to the beginning. Your knees shook and your pussy dripped warm juices down your thighs. He pushed you down onto your knees and pulled out his hard cock. "Now take it!"

Your mouth opened to accept him and he pushed all the way into your throat. You coughed and grabbed at his jeans for support. You looked up at him, mouth stretched around his cock and tears stinging your eyes. His face was a mask of rage and lust and he wasted no time before viciously fucking your throat.

You knew this wasn't allowed. You knew he was defying Pa. But it wasn't your place to deny him. Your place was to accept the will of the man, and at that moment Josiah was the most dominant man in the room.

The feeling of your throat being stretched and abused by the first cock it had ever fully taken brought you right up to the edge of orgasm. You felt in your core that the climax wouldn't come, though. Not for him. He may have shown you your true nature, but you made yourself the way you are by accepting it. You were forever grateful to Josiah for putting you on this path, but you had given your heart to Pa.

Josiah choked out a string of curses as he squirted his seed down your throat. He held your face against him, only releasing you when every last drop had been pushed inside your receptive body. His limp penis fell from your lips and you breathed in, looking up at the man who had once owned you. His face twisted in anguish and he tensed like he was about to strike you. Instead he turned and fled the room, leaving you alone to catch your breath and finish your chores.

You would not tell Pa of this transgression. That was not for you to do. You had fulfilled your purpose, on your knees in that dirty storeroom. He never touched you again after that, even in punishment. You sometimes wished he would.

Now, though, he was the farthest thing from your mind. You were on your knees in front of Pa as he was stretched out in his easy chair, watching the evening news and swigging from a can of sour-smelling beer. You were naked, as you always were in Pa's house. You were bent down low so your face could reach between his spread legs. The only sounds in the room were the low drone of the television and the wet, soft noises of your tongue servicing his ass.

Your hair had grown out. It was still pink at the ends, but your natural brown was showing more and more. The soft swell of your belly pressed against your thighs as you leaned forward, pushing more of your moist tongue inside his wrinkled, hairy asshole. His musky balls rested across your nose, and he stroked his thick cock above your face, occasionally smacking it heavily down on your forehead. You felt small, powerless, and completely at peace.

Pa laughed at something on the screen. "Listen to this girl. It's your old friends!" He jabs the remote at the set and turns the volume up. Without taking your attention away from Pa's taint, you half-listened to the talking head behind you. More violent pro-abortion activists were arrested today at the site of the old women's clinic. The clinic remains closed after the last protester clash five months ago, as the administration has funneled resources into increased policing and prosecution of those seeking to disrupt the public order. We bring you now to...

You knew you should have felt something, but the words barely registered. The old you cared about things like that. Now, your only concern was being a good girl for Pa, and keeping him happy and sated. You heard him make the familiar grunt that meant he was close to coming, so you moved on to the next phase of your evening ritual.

Your tongue gave one last swirl around the rim of his ass before dragging up and pulling one of his balls into your mouth. You gently sucked it, running your tongue over the wrinkled skin and rolling the testicle back and forth. You especially loved to service his nutsack, feeling if you did a good job it would mean he had more seed to give you later that night. You reached up and grasped his hard cock, holding it lovingly against your face and gently rubbing it up and down. The eye that wasn't blocked by his dick looked up at him adoringly. He looked at the TV.

Your other hand rested on the curve of your belly. A small, quiet part of your mind wondered if Josiah's seed had found your core before your pussy had been thoroughly and utterly claimed by Pa. Josiah had been there first, after all, and he had fed you his essence, which was supposed to prepare your body to accept him in your womb. The child you carried was almost certainly Pa's, but that dim ember of a question gave you one last thing to hold onto:

There was no doubt it was yours.