[Bulging Biceps] him to watch his wife love you.

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 sob in the corner, 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 kneel to observe her. Still hugging her legs to herself, with a generous slobber of cum hanging from her snatch, she regards you with new, curious eyes... and a growing smile. "You're... you've..." Her mind seems to click in place, and she begins to weep. "You're saving me?"

The power of a ****'s mind is... something beautiful, and perhaps something only you'll ever get to fully enjoy.

"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. That blissful face of hers, matched with this body... it's hardly a question of why Daniel Cross decided to marry his adopted daughter once she was an adult; really, you just resent that it meant you could never find her first, as if she would've been in your league before now.

"Come over here, then." You help her up and out of the corner, and give her body one more appreciative appraisal before leading her to the doorway, in plain view of the slowly awakening Daniel Cross. His pained groans, and shocked, sudden quickening of breath indicates to you that he's realized his debilitating injuries. Good. You rest your arms on either side of the door frame, disregarding your unzipped pants. "Daniel, I know about how Ophelia is your foster daughter." The massive man pauses, and looks up at you with a new horror. "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. "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. "Why would that matter?"

"Because I was thirteen," she calmly replies. "I'm sorry, this might hurt." She starts to dab your wounds with the ointment, applying tiny band-aids to every bite mark with the tender care of a doting mother, her bare 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. You're no saint... far from it, you consider now. But... but this heinous, ugly thing was... Apparently your thoughts are painted on your face, and 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. You try to not consider what parallel experiences could exist there; besides, at least she was an adult when you came around.

You hang onto that moral high ground, a cliff really, for dear life. "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: 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, and by the time Ophelia returns you're already by the bedroom door again.

"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 warm 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..."