Chapter 9: Peyton

In some ways, Abby had reminded Jacob of his older sister Jessica, flirty and playful. Oh, Jess had teased her little brother to no end growing up, but it was all in good fun. She never abused her power over him like some older siblings. Maybe four years was enough distance to think of him as a child who needed care rather than an annoyance that might interfere with her social life. Now engaged to the boyfriend she met halfway through college, Jess and her man were hoping for a child of their own.

When Jacob came home for holidays, Jess would openly suggest that he do her the favor of breeding her himself. He always assumed she was just joking around—that would be like her—though he could never quite be sure. Times were difficult for committed couples.

It was Jess who had opened his eyes to sex, in a way. When he was 8 and she 12, a messy first period for Jess meant that Jacob got “the talk” earlier than his peers. He wasn’t as clueless as most boys, and consequently felt less anxiety about the opposite sex. Sure, there were the usual fumbles about when to call a girl up and how to tell if his crush liked him back, but there was less fear about what might happen if a relationship got serious.

Even with his prior advantage in the dating game, Jacob’s sex life improved astronomically when the service took him. There was no waiting and little guessing—he would get to fuck a girl whether she wanted to or not. Sometimes he did miss the social aspect, the emotional intimacy, but he couldn’t expect to have everything. For now, he had close buddies he had met in the service and all the pussy he could ask for besides. A girlfriend could wait.

Speaking of pussy, a certain Peyton, age 14, was scheduled for the afternoon session. The file photos showed her to be somewhat tall for her age, and slender. She wore thick-framed glasses that complemented her pretty face, amid shoulder-length wavy brown hair. Her modest breasts fit her figure, and the light patch of pubic hair in front was met by bare labia.

Jacob looked over the form she filled out on arrival, and three responses popped out at him. She was 14, she was a virgin, and she would need to be restrained.

Those unfamiliar with the program might not find that combination strange. It is easy to conjure an image of the beautiful young virgin as an offering to the gods, chained to a rock and fearfully waiting to be eaten by a sea monster. Or something.

However, Peyton was effectively asking to be restrained. In Jacob’s experience, this was atypical. A younger girl might be overly optimistic about her breeding session, or too much in denial to consider the question, or resigned to her fate and thinking restraints would just make it worse. Usually it was the older mates who took restraints out of principle.

“Hi, Peyton?” asked Jacob upon entering the breeding room.

“Yes?” Peyton sat on the edge of the bed, one long leg hanging down and the other bent to her side, heel pulled to her crotch.

“I’m Jacob, your breeder.”

“Aren’t you a little old for that?” she asked with mild derision. Jacob suppressed a chuckle. These younger teens thought anyone out of high school was ancient.

“I’m 19 and quite capable, thank you,” he replied.

“And I’m 14. That’s five years, brah. A few more and you could be my father.”

“A few more after that I could need a cane to get across the room. What’s your point?”

“You’re too old for me. They should give me a breeder the same age.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” said Jacob. “Anyway, you’ve got me. I see from your form you want to be restrained and get some oral action. We can do that. I can also offer you a blindfold, if you’d rather not see me.”

“Nah, brah, I want to glare at you the whole time,” said Peyton.

“Suit yourself.”

Jacob showed Peyton the restraint system and directed her to lie in the center of the bed.

“And remove the robe first,” he added. It wasn’t necessary for the breeding, but if she was going to give him lip, he might as well enjoy the view.

“Look at the little innocent virgin you’re about to violate. I don’t even have tits yet. How do you expect to fit your fat rod in my tiny pussy?” The question dripped of sarcasm. In fact, she was almost as tall as Jacob. It was true that her breasts didn’t look like much when she lay on her back, but even so her prominent nipples stood proud.

Little? Hardly. Innocent? Not with the way she was talking. Virgin? Jacob had his doubts.

Peyton didn’t resist Jacob putting her in the restraints, but she didn’t help either. Jacob dragged her arms to the head of the bed. He lifted the full weight of each leg—really not much—toward the ceiling and balanced it against his torso as he attached the ankle cuff.

“Think you’re man enough to take me all tied up?” she taunted.

Jacob didn’t reply. He looked her over, from the ankle cuffs to her splayed legs, down to her pussy, bare lips already flush. His eye continued across her flat tummy to those slight breasts and juicy nipples, and he took in the sight of her arms, outstretched and bound. Her expression showed disdain, and she glared as advertised.

“I catch my teachers staring at them all the time,” she said as Jacob began to caress her leg. “Mr. Horton tries to look up my skirt in class. More like Mr. Horndog. Such a creep. And now you get a show.”

“I get more than that,” Jacob remarked. He ran his fingers along Peyton’s pussy lips, as if to emphasize the point.

“What does that make you?” she asked.

Again, he didn’t reply. He just ran the flats of his hands from her mons, around her belly to her sides, and up to her chest. Her small boobs tried to hide in this position, but he could feel the soft tissue as he gently kneaded them.

“I’m in eighth grade, you know,” Peyton said.

It was probably true, Jacob reasoned. It was early spring, and that’s the grade when most kids turn 14. Wait, kids? Damn, she was getting to him.

“All those itty bitty titties ... you’d love it. Some of the girls don’t even wear a bra; they just let their nips poke through their shirt.”

Inspired, Jacob pinched her hard nipples, and she moaned. He squeezed them in a slow rhythm.