[Bulging Biceps] Absolve him.

Both of your hands close around his clenched fist... and the combined might of your arms crunches and breaks the bracing bones they hold there. He howls as he withdraws his mangled hand, but your newfound adrenaline rush launches you from your corner and onto him, striking his body in a flurry of blows, cracking ribs and breaking the arm that cradles his ruined hand, stripping him of both of his primary weapons of ****. Blinded by his own rage, Daniel's head rushes at you and finds your shoulder to viciously bite into shirt and flesh. Answering his own agonized roars with your own, you deliver a final, crushing strike to his skull and, though it's an awkward enough angle so that his head remains intact, his jaw slackens. The concussion sends him to the ground with a graceless, face-planting thud.

Panting, bleeding slightly from where this massive animal bit you, and with knuckles bloodied by your rage, you stand over him while his wife continues to lay quietly mindfucked on the bed, ready to be impregnated with your child and, soon enough, impregnated with loyalty to you. Staring down at the gorilla of a man, you decide that you want him to eventually wake up before you leave with Ophelia... but the last thing you need is him coming after you. With that resolve in your mind, you look down to his ankles... and, with only the barest hesitation of a civilized human being, you stomp with the **** of your whole body onto his left ankle, repeating the strike until you hear a satisfying crack, and then another, and then once more. By the time your abusive work is complete, the man stirs only in sobbing breaths that shake his body out of unconsciousness.

As he slowly recovers, you attend Mrs. Cross once more, and crawl over her prone body. She looks up at you, tears in her eyes as she seems to regain enough of her senses to be afraid once again. You pull the gag out of her mouth; she'll know better than to scream, now. "How was your first time with him?"

"Wh..." Her words fail as you shove two fingers into her ass, getting them slick with your own cum.

"Don't ask; answer. The first time he popped this little pussy," you say as you probe it with seed-slick fingers, shoving the first of some billions of sperm you intend to deposit, "did you get pregnant right away?" She looks down, and shakes her head with an eerie quiet. "How long did it take him?" Your intention is quite simple: whatever she says, it won't take you even half as long. You'd impregnate her right here and now, 100% probability as you spunk up her ovulating twat... you're totally prepared to say it-

"Five years," she whispers.

"Five... what?"

"It took him... from when I was thirteen," she whispers, "until I was eighteen."

Silence. Dark as your heart has become, you weren't ready to hear she was **** as an adolescent under this madman's thumb... but dark as your heart has become, you smile with a new, terrible glint. "Thirteen? Well, look at this body!" You spread her cheeks again, work your cock out from where it hid during the fight, and impale her cunt on your manhood. "I'd have fucked you pregnant, too!"

She wails as you rail into her, and right back into her mouth the cum-soaked panties go. The horror of her ordeal, of how her life was ruined... it inspires you, makes fucking her so much better. You're quietly surprised at how much you love this, but offer no hesitation in powering into her with this new passion, your voice trembling with eager arousal as you taunt her. "Did he home school this little pussy, too? It's gripping me like it has a degree," you moan into her ear before licking a tear off of her offered cheek. "What was the lesson plan? Some English, some history, and how to take a hot load in the cooter... God, you must've been tight as fuck." You half-moan, half-laugh into her ear as you quicken your pace; indeed, her attempts to deny your entry and shove you out have only increased the enjoyment. You lift yourself up and look over to watch Daniel: he's still moaning in pain, trying to get his bearings while Ophelia's body readies to bear your young. You dive back down to lay on her completely, letting your full length reach into battered cunt as you beat her cervix near-bloody with your violent thrusts. It buckles with the ease afforded by fairly recent childbirth, and soon your deep dives into her womb are threatening to bring her uterus down with your thrusts. "I want you to think about that moment, baby," you hiss into ear, digging yourself into her cervix until, with a satisfying pop and her own wailing into the gag, your head enters her unprotected womb.

"Nhho, nnhhhhoo-!" Her cries and protests have finally become refined to that single, **** 'no' that falls on deaf ears.

"I want you to think about where he took you to **** you," you continue, "and how he prepped you... rubbing that girly little twat of yours with those massive gorilla hands of his... God, probably fingered your virginity away, didn't he? I want you to think about," you lick your lips as your orgasm builds without thrusting, as her cervix tries to crush the intruding object, "his prick violating that little cunny of yours, about how much it hurt, about how much you knew you were a whore from that day forward... a little baby-making whore... and I want you to see me there... filling that middle-school cunt with... MY SPUNK...!" The adult woman beneath you, through the trauma and agony, through the feeling of you dick pulsing as it readies to cum directly into her uterus, and the bleeding cuts on her ass...

... regresses. She returns to that home-schooling day, "middle school" as her father called it. She remembers the smell of **** on his breath, of his giant hands peeling away her tiny panties. She quietly begged him to let her go to sleep, or bathe, or any excuse that would free her... but her immature pleas fell as she felt something slide across her immature crotch. She looked down and saw the angry, purple head of his prick, seemingly so massive to a girl her age, and... she cries. She cries beneath you, because now that monstrous thing is so much bigger; because you are the father and the husband, the invading cock painting over her hopes and dreams with your own, and painting them in white. In her mind's eye, she is that innocent child once again, still full of hope and possibility, still with a future... one being plucked away as your dick rampages into her pussy. Only her daddy pulled out... you, her new daddy, just keep grinding and groaning inside her, dooming her tiny body to the pregnancy and labor she'll one day hate as an adult. "Pruhs daddyyy, nhhhhooo~" Her whimpers into the gag are just barely understandable... but they'r enough. You throw your head back and gasp, pulsing new life into her very core as you join her in this terrible, ugly fantasy. She feels her uterus inflate with your copious seed, and once again it's her adolescent womb, barely developed, now flooded with a stranger's cum. Pregnant. Oh God, she's just so young... she can't be pregnant now! She weeps as her womb fills until it finally expels the invading manhood, sealing in a fist of jizz that refuses to leak, falling into miserable, loud sobbing as she feels it continue to fill her tiny birth canal.

Ophelia Dale, the orphan girl with a future, dies again as you fertilize her second child; another son, another male to ruin her life once carried to term.

You stay inside her for another minute, ever ruining your own moment with the occasional glance back at Daniel, who looks up at you with a terrible, impotent fury as he cradles his own body with variably broken limbs. When at last you decide she's had enough time to "soak", you withdraw, and reach down to kiss her sliced-up ass cheek once you've a fine view to appreciate all your hard work leaking from both of her violated holes. You start to cut the restraints on her limp, soiled body. "Daniel, you're pretty fucked up," you chuckle as you work, "and certainly the 'go to prison' kind of fucked up, too... I guess you think I am too, but you'll know the score soon enough." He doesn't respond to your words... not yet anyways. You drag Ophelia's legs to the edge of the bed farthest from Daniel's writhing, broken form, and slowly help her stand with that vacant, glassy-eyed stare of hers. "Still with us, little one?" you whisper, violently squeezing her massive mammaries from behind her and enjoying the strong spray of white in a cone before her.

Her head cocks and turns to find your face, and she regards you with new, curious eyes... and a growing smile. "You are... you are..." Her mind seems to click in place, coming back to the present despite the womb full of seed that now slowly oozes down her leg. Her face is smothered in tears, but only now does she cry happily. "You're saving me?"

The power of a ****'s mind is something beautiful, even artful given what you've done here today... and it almost saddens you that none will appreciate your craft, save you and your victims... and the occasional faux-husband with broken bones.

"Of course," you whisper with a smile, "but I need you to help me make sure he knows it. Can you help me?" She nods innocently, gently fingering her soiled twat... and, as her smile widens, raising her soaked fingers to her mouth and sucking on them. She doesn't even seem to notice the welts on her ass, or her husband for that matter. That blissful face of hers, matched with this body... it's yours now, and forever.

You walk her over and past the bed, and give her body one more appreciative appraisal before leading her to the doorway, in plain view of the bitterly humiliated Daniel Cross. You rest your arms on either side of the door frame, disregarding your unzipped pants. "Daniel, you probably heard some of our little 'roleplay' just now, but... I know about how Ophelia is your foster daughter." The massive man pauses, and looks up at you with a new horror all the same. "I know you moved here with her recently... how do you think the police will take the news of what you did?" You cock your head to your naked ****, who now looks at you with dreamy eyes. You suppress a shiver of delight as Daniel's eyes finally realize his wife's disposition, despite your brutal ****. "Ophelia, how do you think they'll react?"

"Oh... well..." She walks over to you, and gently taps your shoulder wounds, earning a wince from you. She immediately looks apologetic, and rushes to a nightstand. "Well," she says from afar, "I guess they might frown upon that... oh, and... and probably more on how our first time went..."

You cock an eyebrow, first at how they keep band-aids and antibacterial ointments in the bedroom and second at her response. "Ah... I guess that would be because you were thirteen? Yeah, yeah, polite society frowns on that," you chuckle, winking at Mr. Cross. He does not wink back.

She nods, and approaches with the ointment. "I'm sorry, this might hurt." She starts to dab your wounds, applying tiny band-aids to every bite mark with the tender care of a doting mother, her battered rump and cum-dripping pussy turned in Daniel Cross' direction. You don't move while she works. You don't move your mouth, your posture... your entire face is locked, and with them your eyes as you glare down at Daniel Cross. Your toothy-grin would be etched into his memory until his dying day. Apparently it's enough to disturb your **** as well as she looks to you with new worry. "Did I say something wrong?"

You swallow hard. "Of course not," you whisper through a tight smile. "You probably said the best thing you could." Daniel's grunts of pain are quieted, and he looks at Ophelia's abused crotch. In a moment of clarity, you guess that he must be recalling the moment he had his own 'crack' at her. In truth, you weren't going to go fucking some adolescents or even dangerously young teens, unlike this hypocrite... but your growing sadism can't help but admire the cruelty of it.

You hang onto that moral high ground, a crumbling cliff really, for as long as you care. "Ophelia, what do you think of... me?"

She gasps, and then blushes furiously for a woman so at ease with full nudity and the smell of fucking that permeated this chamber. "Well, I... I mean... I love you," she whispers.

"Say it louder," you whisper back, your eyes never leaving Daniel.

"I love you!"

"You know, I just got you pregnant," you declare in a louder voice, making sure the man heard it. "Is that OK? What about your husband?"

"I..." She almost turns to regard him, but goes back to finishing treating you. "I love that you knocked me up, Master... and I don't care what that man there thinks. We're not even really married, so he doesn't matter anymore."

You really wish you could enjoy the look on Daniel's face everyday: the shattering of his reality, the drop of his jaw, the tears welling in those beady eyes. He tries to stand, and his ankle folds in a way that throws him back to the ground, covering his mouth as he howls in agony. As if on cue, a loud knock raps on the front door, enough for you all to hear. Alarmed, Ophelia rushes into the closet (thankfully away from Daniel) and finds a satin robe to toss on. "You'll tell them that you're roleplaying with your husband," you whisper, "and apologize for the noise." She looks to you, realizes your instructions, and nods with a smile before leaving. As she works the door, assuring whatever nosy neighbor came to snoop goes away quietly, you approach the broken, ugly man that has begun crawling away from you on his good elbow, blubbering some kind of plea that you'll never accept.

"Shut up." You grab a bit of the ruined clothes from Ophelia's earlier episode on the bed and rush at Daniel, shoving the fistful of cloth into his mouth as he inhales to protest or cry out. "I'll tear that tiny dick of yours off if you don't shut the fuck up." Your words hiss out, and like poison they reach into Daniel and slacken his body. Tears run freely down his cheeks. "You've lost everything... and I'll take even more if you so much as smell wrong." By the time Ophelia returns, you're already by the bedroom door again and trying to appear suave.

"Mrs. Coffee next door," she sighs, "surprised as ever at what we... do together... but she was quick to leave us to it."

"Good... because before we leave, I want you to show Daniel here how much you love me." Her eyes light up, and she quickly moves in to hug you, staining your shirt anew with her milk as she crushes her massive breasts against you. "You're already pregnant... and you'll happily bear my child. Is there some other way you want to show him how much you love me?"

"Can I please..." She looks sidelong at the crippled man in the room, and then back to you. "Can I suck your cock, Master?" You're not sure why that earns a wide-eyed glare from Daniel, but you nod, and let her work. She pulls out your manhood, soft given the recent events but quickly hardening as she pumps your length with her fist. "It's so much bigger than my husband's," she declares, "and so thick... I never knew how small he was until you showed up, Master." Daniel looks down to the floor and continues to weep.

"Would you marry me, Ophelia?" you sigh. Not that you would bind yourself to one woman at this point, of course... at least, probably not. No sense making that kind of call this early in the game.

"Of course, Master," are her last words before she begins to try and suck you off... poorly, enough so that you realize she must have only the most basic idea of what a blowjob involves as she puts it in her mouth, gags in surprise, and then begins to lick it like some form of old-timey confectionary.

"You're not very good at giving head," you state bluntly, and the puppy-dog eyes she throws up to you, sincere with how badly she takes your news... the guilt you feel is almost enough to turn you Catholic. "... so use your strengths." You gently run your fingers across her massive teat... and she takes a moment to realize your thinking. Like the caveman's first experiments with the wheel, she tries to consider precisely how she could use them... until she finally wraps your rod in her massive breasts, lubricating it with milk as she shoves you in and out of her cleavage. Gods, and how deep her cleavage ran! You never thought these titjobs could be any good, but watching her work so hard, her nipples spraying white droplets everywhere, the tight clench of her generous titflesh compounding on your cock... it's almost enough to come. Almost. "Open your mouth," you cry out, withdrawing your milk-drenched cock and jacking it furiously towards her mouth. "Drink it!" Her mouth dives forward as you feel your orgasm build, and those inexperienced lips finally do their job and close over and behind your head, sealing it in a chamber with a confused tongue that attempts to speak, wiggling it against your flared tip. "Yes," you sigh as you begin to come, holding her head in place as you fill her mouth, then her throat, and **** her to try and drink faster than you can come. She coughs as she fails, and by the time you withdraw some of your seed has dribbled uselessly down her chin and, much to your amusement, out of her nose in two tiny droplets.

"Was it... ugh..." she wipes her nose, and sniffles. "Was it good, Master?"

"You'll have plenty of time to improve," you assure her with a wicked smile, still pumping your cock for more until you realize how hungry you're getting... and that is as long a moment as you had without even thinking of the broken piece of garbage in the room. You glance over at him, and see the shade of Daniel Cross: body slack, eyes glazed over and distant, mouth still willingly stuffed with her ruined shorts. "We ought to leave... is there anything you want to tell your ex-husband?"

His eyes briefly drift to his wife, whose face is happily plastered with your seed. She doesn't even look back at him, choosing instead to look up at you with that happy grin. "Not a thing."

You smile and nod... and a familiar cry, somehow quiet until now, fills the air. You nearly forgot that she already has a child... and now she looks up to you, and you see what you never considered possible in a ****, save if you threatened cutting them off sexually: fear. Her eyes are wide with some kind of awful fear... fear for her baby.

Fear of you."Your baby..." you begin.

"Please, Master," she pleads, her voice ****, the entire plea absurd with jizz and milk all over her nude body, "let me bring Lazarus... he's more my baby than his, and... and he'll have nothing without me. I'll take care him all on my own, I promise, somehow... I'm... please..."