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A Breeder For The Triplets – The First Night

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I was almost dozing off when Mrs Hobbs returns with a case that she brings out on top of a table in one corner of the room. As she clicks open the catches of the briefcase and opens it, the contents facing her, away from us, my nose pricks up and my senses heighten. There are scents swirling around, and I strain to catch the notes of warm brandy apple cider, cinnamon and leather. There are other scents crowding it, but I crave to smell more. She brings out several different pouches and gestures for Callie to come forward.

“Scent the different samples on the cloths, and tell me what you feel with each, then select three you prefer,” she demands in her strong, no-nonsense voice. Callie is cautious, there is no way to tell what the right answer will be in this situation, nothing you can prepare yourself for. It’s a scent-matching exercise, that much I know. If we react strongly or with distaste to a scent, that could be us out of the process. Callie goes through the many scent cloths, selecting a few she feels drawn to, and others which she gives back. With her final three chosen, Mrs Hobbs notes her choices, her face devoid of emotion giving nothing away.

I am left until last, and I am getting more and more distracted as time passes, I want to explore the scents, and for the first time today, not just because I have to as part of the selection, but because I want to. There’s a scent I can’t quite grasp and it’s making me itch, like a sneeze that won’t come out. At last, I can approach the table. The itch is now becoming a tingling sensation as I go through the samples. The first one I inhale is chocolatey and rich, with a musky masculine smell. Not unpleasant, but not what I am craving. The second I inhale deeply and close my eyes as sensation envelops me. It’s like a warm campfire, woodsy with smoke, leather and horses. But more than that it smells like comfort, home and safety. I set it down as one of my choices. I try not to think about the consequences of my choices, there’s no way to predict it anyway. I go through the next two or three quickly, discarding them. Then it hits me – that apple brandy cinnamon spice smell, mmmmm, lovely. I almost don’t want to put it down. When I get to the last cloth I realise I have to choose this one or one of my discarded ones. Hopefully, this one hits the spot too. I bring it to my nose and mouth and inhale deeply. Immediately I feel my pupils dilate as the light becomes brighter in the room and my nipples actually tingle. I feel a warmth go straight to my core and a dribble of wetness dots my knickers. I can’t even describe the smell, it just smells of sex, man, mate, Mine.


With trembling fingers, I put it on the table along with the others and confirm my choices. Somehow I made it back to where I had been sitting and plopped down on the cushion. I cover my head and body with the blanket. What the hell does this mean? Is one of the triplets my mate? Or some random alpha whose scent they used? I don’t want a mate ever, after this, I want to go on suppressants until my career is up and running.

I don’t have time to think long because the next thing I know, the blanket is being ripped from me, and I am blinking up at Mrs Hobbs.

“Congratulations Eden, the job is yours if you want it. You’ve been selected. Here’s the contract to look over and sign. We’ll give you a minute to look over things, and if you agree and sign, I’ll take you to your quarters.”

She hands me a manilla folder and a pen, turns and walks out. I look around and notice I’m alone. The other girls, the assistants, they’ve all left. I look up at the two-way mirror. Am I alone? I stand and walk over to the mirror and press my face against the glass, trying to see through to the other side. It’s useless of course, I can’t see anything. I glance over the contract, giving everything a cursory glance. I know I should read it more thoroughly, but at this point, I’ve come too far to back out now. It seems like a standard breeder contract, you must only breed with the triplets, no others, you must stay healthy, no drugs, no alcohol etc., and you must live within the grounds of their territory for the duration of your stay. You will stay until you have birthed an heir in good health, or until your contract is terminated. You waive your rights to the child you birth. I’d already stipulated that the money be paid in instalments to my Mother for Elouise’s treatment, and that’s all that mattered. Any left afterwards I would get when this was all over.

With a deep sigh, I sign the contract and wait. When Mrs Hobbs returns, she checks everything is in order, then leads me away. I lose track of all the twists and turns, my feet dragging as the events of the last few days catch up with me and I’m fighting to keep my eyes open. We get to a large wooden door and she opens it.

“This is your quarters. Your things have been brought here, you may sleep now,” she says and I’m once again alone.

I take in my surroundings briefly. There is a large bed situated in the middle of the far wall, with plenty of cushions and blankets on I am pleased to note. I have two wardrobes, my clothes barely fill half of one of them, a chest of drawers, a dresser, a desk and two bedside tables with lamps. The lampshades are a deep green with birds in branches with flowers on and a fringe at the bottom. I trace my fingers over the pretty design. I turn one on and switch the main light off, breathing slower with the warmer glow. There’s a door I open that leads to a bathroom that’s bigger than my kitchen at home with warm sand coloured marble everywhere, golden brass taps and a bath and walk-in shower. I debate whether to take a swim in the tub or fall into bed. Sleep wins this time as I strip off my clothes and crawl into bed naked. The sheets feel soft as clouds and within minutes I’m fast asleep.

I’m dreaming of summer fields, walking through a meadow with Elouise and she’s finally healthy, running ahead of me trying to catch a butterfly, when I’m suddenly aware of someone grabbing my ankle. I still, not knowing whether to alert her or not, then I realise I’m not in the meadow, I’m in a strange bed in the Vandenburg mansion, and I’ve sold myself. I become aware that I’m not alone in the bed and I freeze. There is a hand on my ankle, it’s gentler than in the dream but just as persistent. The hand moves up my calf, massaging it with a firm pressure as a second hand joins in. As the hands move higher I can’t stop a whimper escaping my lips.

“Sssshhhhh, it’s ok,” whispers a man’s voice. His brandy apple scent reaches my nose and I breathe him in as his warm body slips in to the bed behind me. I have my back to him, and it’s dark, so I can’t see his face. All I can feel is his large hands caressing my legs, my thighs, the curve of my hips and, oh, my ass. His thumbs brush over the swell of my ass and I lean back into him.

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