Author’s Note: This story contains human trafficking, raceplay, anger about premature ejaculation, dubious consent and impregnation. All that said, its a relatively happy story, all things considered. Make an informed decision on whether its the kind of material you’d like to read.
The girl’s race is deliberately left unspecified. Please make a decision that suits your personal tastes and imagine thusly in your mind.
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My story is a common one in this world. For a family in an incredibly poor country, having no access to contraception means they always end up with too many mouths to feed. So the week I turn eighteen years old, my parents take me on the long road to the nearest big city. They know I’ll never be worth more than right now, so they quickly sell me off to a company that specializes in this kind of transaction. After an initial evaluation, my parents are paid in cash and sent on their way back home, while I’m kept in a small but modern living quarters in the city. The company knows a young and pretty girl like me will sell quickly.
The next day, I’m bathed and manicured, and the company staff do three photosets of me: one in casual clothes, one in lingerie, and one fully nude. A doctor does a full checkup and certifies me healthy, aside from some minor malnutrition. He signs off that I am a virgin with no evidence of prior sexual activity, and that I’m fully ready and able to bear children.
Meanwhile, you get a decent bonus at work. After some consideration, you decide to spend the windfall cash on a sex slave. You go on the dark web and spend hours paging through hundreds of options before deciding upon me. You go through the picture gallery, downloading high resolution images of my petite body both in revealing lingerie and fully naked. Every single inch of me is recorded in exquisite detail and revealed to you… the swell of my ample breasts, the small mole on my left hip, the carefully trimmed hair on my mons pubis, the delicate folds of my virginal labia. You jerk off to the images of me several times, and when its still not enough, you finally relent and select ‘Purchase’, transmitting the huge sum of money.
Over in my country, I’m loaded into an airtight freight container. Inside is a single sized bed and a small toilet. A climate control system keeps the air fresh and cool, and some packaged food and bottled drinks sits in the corner. Unbeknownst to me, the drinks are all laced with potent aphrodisiacs. My freight container is loaded onto a massive transport plane, fitted into the interlocking rows of other cargo containers. They arrived in this country mostly containing consumer goods and finished products we don’t make here. They’re leaving filled with food, raw resources, and me.
Within 24 hours, my crate is on a truck headed to your house. A few hours after that, my bumpy ride comes to an end. These types of deliveries are always made in the dead of night, to avoid nosy neighbors. The truck driver, paid a large sum to look the other way, waits as you open the door to the container and take me by the hand, leading me into your house.
I look up at you as you shut the door behind us, nervous but not terrified. Your house might seem like a normal middle-class one to you, but to someone like me who grew up in a humid, weed infested bungalow of rotting boards and shattered concrete, it seems like a paradise: good clean water, ample delicious food, cool AC, and electronic entertainment that confuses but intrigues me. I have so many questions, but I don’t know a single word of your language to ask them.
But I’d be lying if I said that was the first thing on my mind at the moment. By this time, the aphrodisiacs are in full effect. My cheeks are flushed pink, and I’m breathing heavily, not understanding my body’s reactions. Arousal drips down the insides of my thighs. You’re fully aware that I was drugged… it was one of the checkboxes you clicked in the delivery options. I’m dressed only in a thin white dress, with nothing underneath, but luckily you splurged on the mid-tier Clothing and Extras package, which arrived a few hours before me. Stacked against the wall are a half dozen boxes of pretty dresses and casual clothes, skirts, socks, panties and bras, all perfectly sized for me. There’s also a dozen or so sets of erotic lingerie, lacy teddies and sheer silk crotchless panties. The last box features a diverse array of sex toys… vibrators, rotors, butt plugs, nipple clamps and bondage accessories including a full body latex suit with a complete mask that, when fully zipped, only has two holes, those being at the crotch, front and back.
I hand you the envelope I’m carrying. Inside is a small collection of paperwork… my birth certificate, sparse medical records, and a sheet explaining how that by the time I arrive at your house, I will be in my most fertile period of my cycle. Attached to the page are two chemical ovulation detection test sticks the doctor had me pee on before I left, both showing strong positives.
You had planned on having me do a sexy little fashion show for you first thing, but its all too much. You scoop me up bridal style and carry me into your bedroom at practically a sprint. I make a small sound of surprise but don’t resist, watching with wide eyes. I get more scared as you yank the white dress off over my head, your expression wild with desire. I’m dripping wet from the aphrodisiacs, but even still, I cry out sharply in pain as you shove your hard cock into my tight, virginal pussy. I try to push you away, desperate to escape the massive intrusion into my body, but you are so much stronger than me. You pump once, twice, three times into my narrow slit, and then gasp as you ejaculate hard inside me, painting the walls of my fertile womb with your cum.
Shame and rage fill you as you pull out, memories of your first girlfriend who laughed at you when you came in your pants from just a bit of rubbing your jeans, telling everyone and making you the laughing stock of the school. The Tinder dates ruined by premature ejaculation, the constant struggle and humiliation.
But there’s no judgement or even awareness from me. I’m only relieved the pain is gone, curled up against you as I tremble and make soft, choking sobs. Guilt replaces the rage almost as fast as it came. You pet my hair softly, your other hand stroking down the small of my back to my firm rump. You murmur apologies, feeling my hot tears wet your chest hair.
About ten minutes later, you’re hard again. You push me onto my back, and I give small noises of protest as you climb atop me. You enter more gently, the soupy pink mix of semen and virgin blood that slicks my channel easing your passage. I whimper softly, more from memory of the terrible first pain than the more moderate discomfort I feel this time. You last almost a full minute before emptying your balls inside me again.
Thirty minutes later, you’re ready for round three. I make a breathy, feminine sound as you push into me this time. I’m still confused, still scared, but at least I’m not in pain. Twinges of unfamiliar sensations, sensations I’d eventually come to recognize as pleasure, light up my brain with each gentle thrust. I watch you bite your lip, focusing on resisting the urge to climax. I don’t get it, but my fear recedes. You’re not trying to hurt me, I realize. Five minutes later, I feel another gush of semen inside me, filling me up.
This time, the tension eases. Whatever trauma from humiliation you endured before, its clear to both of us I am uninvolved in it. I’m a blank canvas, a doll you can shape to your desires. This time, you pull me up against yourself, fitting my smaller body against your bulk. You tilt my head up and kiss me, gently at first, then with increasing intensity.
Its the first time I’ve ever kissed a man. Sex might hurt, but the aphrodisiacs are still flowing through my veins, and kissing… kissing I quickly learn to love. I moan in enjoyment as you probe my mouth with your hungry tongue, quickly learning and adapting, kissing you back as fiercely as you kiss me. We devour one another, and your hands roaming freely across my unblemished skin as I hook my arms up behind your neck, hanging from you lovingly. Our makeout session eventually turns into more sex, and although I’m still incredibly sore and sensitive, you drown me in kisses as you fuck me for a fourth time, spurting yet another load into my already overfull uterus.
Millions of your potent sperm are inside me, making their way towards the egg inside me. As we lay together, basking in our sweat and kisses, they find their target, and eagerly race to be the first to burrow inside it. Within the second hour of you meeting me, I’m already pregnant with your child. We fall to sleep in each others arms.
I wake up first in the morning, wincing as I get out of bed. It feels like I was run through with a spear last night. But I do my best to ignore the soreness and explore my new home. There’s so much that’s new and unknown to me, their uses a mystery. But when I happen across the refrigerator, a growling stomach reminds me of my hunger. A lot of the food, appliances and cooking utensils are different than I’m used to, but I persevere. I carefully taste each ingredient and spice, contemplating and testing. I’m already used to cooking during childhood with whatever scraps of garbage my older siblings didn’t take first, and over a campfire at that. A fully stocked fridge and cupboards like this is easy mode.
In the end, I come up with some skillet mix of scrambled eggs, potato and cheese, all heavily seasoned. Its far from perfect, but not bad for a first try. When you emerge from the bedroom, I proudly display my creation to you on a single plate. Uncertain, you tentatively try it, only to be pleasantly surprised at how good it is. You serve me a bite as well, and I make a small squeal of joy as I chew and swallow. Compared to my usual fare back home, this is paradise. The plate is yours, and I make no move to take it. Instead, I smile at you adoringly as you feed me bite after bite in between your own chewing, accepting the meal as the gift from you it really is.
Next we take a shower together, a fun novelty for me, having grown up without running water. I see your flaccid penis get hard during the washing, something that makes me a bit nervous again, but you gently soothe me as you rub me down with soap, promising to never hurt me again. I don’t understand the words, but I understand the intent, and I relax.
After that, you have me put on the fashion show you originally intended for last night. You get more and more turned on as I show off the lacey garments. After I dance around a little in only a pair of crotchless panties, you beckon me over and have me sit in your lap facing you, fishing your cock out of your pants. As it sinks inside my fresh pussy, you grunt, cumming hard on the very first stroke. I giggle lovingly as I feel the heat blossom inside me. We sit together like that for a few minutes, feeling your girth twitch inside me as it slowly deflates. Surprisingly, there’s no anger or shame this time. I have no preconceptions, no expectations. I don’t understand what happened, or even what the consequences of the swimmers you keep pouring inside me have already done inside my womb. I’m just an adorable little sex doll you can use however you like.
You decide to try out the toys on me, and my first introduction to real pleasure begins. I’m quite sensitive, and with a rotor teasing my clit as a thin little vibrator caresses my depths, it doesn’t take you long to wrench the very first orgasm of my life out of me. I’m left desperately gasping for air as every muscle in my body goes taut, squealing with pleasure until I collapse like a puppet with the strings cut.
You find its quite fun, watching me writhe in ecstasy as you wait to be able to get hard again. And for my part, I’m quickly addicted to the sensations the toys bring, trembling with anticipation as you hover them over me. You teach me naughty phrases in your language, training me to beg for your attentions, and though I don’t know the words, I know the pleasure that follows me speaking them, so I memorize the phrases well. When we do have intercourse, I couldn’t care less if it goes long or short, as there’s always a new toy to tease me with when you’re done.
By evening, its another bath, followed by dinner and then more sex in the bedroom. And so passes the first full day of our happy new lives together, with many more to come.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/v2mkgx/mf_an_impulsive_darknet_purchase_human