LuneClown

In a society rebuilt around fertility, survival, and sensual power, every adult woman is fitted with a choker—and every eligible man is trained to breed.

Rhea is more than just a top-tier idol and model. She’s a national sweetheart, admired for her grace, beauty, and mystery. But when she quietly registers at the Breedinghall, the world holds its breath.

Joon is a fresh Class C male, quiet but instinct-driven, with a body tuned for sex and a rhythm that makes women melt. Assigned to Rhea for his final orientation stream, he doesn’t just perform—he leaves a mark. Deep. Intimate. Irrevocable.

Rhea lets him in. Then lets him claim her.

Off-camera.

On her terms.

Now the nation watches—not just for the next erotic stream or viral post, but for the evolving intimacy between a man rising through the ranks and the woman who gave him her first thread.

In this world of public breeding, private bonds, and state-sponsored seduction, love isn’t forbidden.

It’s rare.
It’s real.
And it’s claimed.

Reborn to Breed: My Daily Life

The screen pulsed as Joon tapped Rhea's name.

The door at the far end of the hallway slid open with a hiss—low, inviting.

She moved like sound in slow motion—heels clicking softly, hips swaying beneath the sheer shimmer of a lingerie cloak that barely covered anything. Her breasts were cupped by twin silver rings, open to the air, nipples gently pinched by chrome clips that glittered under the chamber lights. A matching Y-chain dangled between her breasts, connecting down her stomach, vanishing between her thighs… and when she turned slightly to greet him, the flash of her clit clip winked like jewelry worn too proudly.

Not with nerves—but with performance.

"Joon," she said warmly, her voice honeyed silk. "I hoped you'd pick me."

He didn't rush toward her. Didn't leer.

He just took a step closer, calm as water, steady as gravity.

"I liked your profile," he said, voice low and smooth. "But mostly… I liked the way you looked when you saw the camera."

That made her blush. And then giggle.

"I'm usually good at staying composed. But your pheromone rating was… wow."

She glanced down—only once—toward the bulge already straining his pants. Her choker pulsed red. Harder this time.

"Shall we?" she asked, gesturing toward the chamber behind her.

Together, they stepped through the door.

The room wasn't just a chamber—it was a stage.

Velvet floors, plush spotlighting, and mirror panels positioned just off-angle to catch the curve of every thrust, every gasp. The bed was low and wide, ringed with sheer curtains that parted with a gesture. Overhead, the live-stream rig blinked softly, waiting. On one wall, a digital counter glowed:

> [STREAM READY – WAITING FOR ACTIVATION]

Rhea turned to face him near the center of the bed.

"So…" she said, brushing her hair back, "this is my favorite chamber. Performance class. Lots of angles, but soft light. Makes me look wetter than I already am."

He chuckled softly. "I don't think the camera's your biggest challenge right now."

Instead, he stepped closer, brushing her cheek gently, letting his fingers trail behind her ear, down the length of her jaw.

Her breath caught—just a little.

"My kink," she said, voice suddenly softer, "is being watched. Not just seen. Watched. When I'm on camera… I melt. My body feels hotter, my pussy gets twitchy, and I start moaning without realizing."

She went on, cheeks pinking. "And I like… praise. Dirty or sweet. Just don't go silent. I want to know I'm making you feel good. That I'm doing it right."

"You'll do more than right," he murmured. "You're gonna make people jealous."

Then he reached up, thumb brushing her lip. She closed her eyes briefly, sighing.

Joon tilted his head. "It's my first time… here. But not my first time knowing what I want."

He stepped behind her. Let his fingers trace her hips through the sheer cloth. Her breath hitched.

"I like seeing a girl relax first," he said quietly into her ear. "I want her to feel safe. And sexy. And seen."

"But if she wants to be handled rough… I can give her that, too."

Rhea turned to him, eyes wide, mouth parted.

"Okay," she whispered, "I'm relaxed."

He leaned in and kissed her. Just once—slow, warm, firm. The kind of kiss that didn't rush toward lust, but smoldered beneath it.

When he pulled back, her nipples were visibly harder beneath the clips. Her thighs shifted slightly. Her choker flared.

She pointed to the button beside the bed—a sleek control pad with one glowing icon:

"If you're ready," she said breathlessly, "press that."

Then down at her trembling body—barely restrained by silver chains and soft expectation.

Chapter 2: Curtain Call